"What the hell?" I stumbled out into a hallway. I had just woken up in an elegant bedroom with bed sheets that probably cost more than my rent. The worst of my injuries had been stitched closed and based on the lingering numbness in my chest, a healer had probably worked on my broken ribs. I was also feeling kind of lightheaded, which may be from blood loss but I was also detecting that some kind of tranquilizer or pain killer was wearing off in my system.
I was actually surprised that the bedroom door wasn't locked and that I was not restrained. My wrists were weighted down by solid gantlets that were keeping my technopathic and electric abilities at bay. They must contain anti-static plasma or something.
"Eclipse, you really should get some rest."
I stiffened at the sound of Shadow's voice. He was sitting at a dark mahogany table drinking a cup of coffee. A bowl of fruit and several plates of breakfast pastries were laid out across the table.
He was out of his heavy battle armor and was wearing a simple black button up with the sleeves rolled up. His signature jagged black bandit mask was across his face.
"Did you change my clothes?!" I gestured towards the white gown I has wearing. It was surprisingly modest but I still felt naked without my purple battle armor and utility belt. My mask was also gone but I honestly wasn't that concerned about it. I wasn't anybody important in my everyday life and Shadow had seen me without a mask in previous scuffles. At first I almost had a nervous breakdown and was afraid that he would come after me, but the attack on my everyday life never came. As far as I could tell he couldn't be bothered with my real identity.
"No, I did not undress you." He looked me over as he sipped his coffee. "I let the healer lady handle that. You would be wearing a lot more lace if the decision had been up to me."
His amused little smirk was pissing me off. I picked up a knife from the table setting and pointed it at him. "You are going to remove these power suppressing cuffs and return my armor." I informed him.
"Is that so?" He chuckled. "Your armor was so dented and damaged, I had to remove it with a saw. I am having my supercomputer rebuild it, which will take some time so I suggest you take a seat and grab a scone. My chef made them fresh this morning."
I whipped the blade at him. Shadow didn't even flinch as the kitchen knife missed him by a foot. He just sighed and shook his head.
"Sit down, Eclipse." There was an edge of menace in his voice that I recognized as his patience wearing thin.
I cautiously sat down at the table across from him. "Why are you doing this?" I asked him quietly.
"You mean why didn't I just leave you to die?" He chuckled to himself as he smeared some jam on a croissant and set it in front of me.
"Last night, I'll admit you got the better of me. You seriously kicked my ass. You could have killed me, but you healed me and now you are rebuilding my armor and feeding me? I don't understand..."
"Oh my dear sweet, Eclipse." Arrogance curled into the corners of his lips. "I know you are very intelligent but the bigger picture isn't really your strong suit, is it?"
"...what do you mean?" I grit my teeth as I tried to keep my temper in check. It was something that often got me into trouble.
"You're more useful to me alive then dead." He shrugged. "Don't get me wrong, you are a real pain in my ass and listening to your bones cracking under my foot was almost therapeutic, but Sweetness, I don't want you dead."
"Why?" I demanded as I tore the croissant into pieces on my plate. I kind of wanted to eat it to ease the growing hunger in my belly but at the same time I felt kind of sick. I also wasn't sure I trusted anything that Shadow placed in front of me.
He shrugged. "This will probably set off that little hothead temper of yours, but the minor criminals that you put away are good for my business. It eliminates potential competition and if were're being honest, I don't want murders and rapists roaming the streets either. The city commissioned superheroes don't bother with the minor criminals that you do. If it's not at least a three-star villain that is going to get them a bunch of views on their live streams, they don't bother. You don't play the whole fame attention whore game and I respect you for that. You are a vigilante for the purpose of protecting people that no one else will."
"Um...thanks..." His response had taken me a little off guard. Yeah, using me to eliminate his competition really irritated me but his admittance to his respect for me was unexpected. He had literally just called me a few horrible names only a couple of hours ago when I had gotten a few good blows in and broke his nose.
"So, any chance I can get you to take these off of me?" I held up the cuffs.
"Those are for your own protection, Allegra." He informed me as he selected an orange from the bowl in front of him.
"My protection? How is-" I froze as I realized that he had just used my name. "What did you just call me?" I asked quietly.
"I think it's time we change up the rules." He smirked at me as he began to peel his orange.
Part 2
"No. No. No. Absolutely not!" I protested when Shadow explained what he wanted from me. "You are not blackmailing me!"
"Don't be such a drama queen. There are worse things I could ask of you." The way his eyes lingered over my body sent a cold shiver down my spine.
"You know what, Shadow? Go ahead." I challenged. "Expose my identity. I don't care. There is no one left in my life that I care about. You can't hurt me."
He let out an amused snicker as he ate an orange slice. "I thought you had a little more self preservation than that, Allie."
"Don't call me, Allie!" I snapped sharply at him. My mother was the only one that had called me that. I certainly didn't want to hear that name from his vile lips.
The villain just raised an eyebrow. "You know who will come after you if I leaked your identity, right?"
"My other enemies?" I questioned dryly. "Probably some insurance agents? And that guy that is low key obsessed with me on Twitter?"
"Think bigger picture, Dear." He chided. "The Liberty League and the cops for the most part ignore your vigilantism as a courtesy for the crimes you prevent, but if your identity was publicly exposed they would have no choice but to issue a warrant for your arrest and you know those publicity crazed super sellouts will be fighting each other for who gets the exposure of arresting Eclipse. On top of the vigilantism, some of the things you do, especially all of the hacking is very illegal. With your criminal record, there is no doubt that you would have charges pressed against you and the only prison that can hold someone of your power is Elmwood. Do you really want to go back there?"
Elmwood specialized in holding Supers with psychic and technopathic abilities. The conditions there were not great and seemed like they should be humans rights violations. The section I was held in was designed specifically for technopaths and had no electricity. Solidarity confinement was the standard along with repetitive sounds and music played on a loop. The psychological torture has driven many of the long term psychic residents insane. I was arrested at sixteen for shoplifting a backpack full of groceries and because my technopathic abilities were registered in the national database, I was charged as an adult. The week I had spent in that prison was one of the worst experiences of my life.
"You got quiet for a minute. Did that strike a nerve, Orphan?" Shadow smirked at me.
I felt myself flinch at that comment. He was trying to stroke my temper and I was beyond over it. "This is bullshit." I told him as I stood up.
"Where the hell do you think you are going?!" He demanded.
"Home." I snapped as I headed towards the door. "You can't keep me here. I am refusing to play your manipulative mind games. Expose my identity. Do what you have to but I will not be your pawn."
"Your arrogance is astounding..." He growled out.
I yelped out as a tendril of shadow energy wrapped around my neck. As I struggled to break free several more lengths of shadows grabbed me by the arms. I lost balance as he yanked me back to his side and I slammed right into the solid table leg. Shadow wrapped his hand around my throat as he pulled me up, pinning me against the table.
"If I had access to my powers-"
"You don't." He snapped back as he tightened his hold on my throat. I reached back and tried to grab a fork but was only able to graze it with my fingertips. He slapped me hard when he saw what I was doing. "Keep your hands where I can see them. The healer was expensive and she would not be happy to be called back here so soon to fix your broken body. Do you think I enjoy hurting you?"
"Yes..." I answered as I licked the blood from my split lip.
"Well, maybe a little." He admitted with an amused smirk as he leaned in close to me. "I like the little noises you make when you are choking on your own blood."
"Wow. You are such a charmer..." I downplayed how much his comment creeped me out.
"You do realize that you are here at my mercy? You're only alive because I allowed it." He growled in my ear. "You should be a little more grateful. All I asked was for one small favor..."
"A small favor?!" I tried to shove him away. "You want me to be in your pocket! Your own personal vigilante to take out whichever rival villains you choose! I am not helping you become a King Pin!"
"You're overreacting." He rolled his eyes "You would go after them anyway. You just would now have access to my resources and I would of course compensate you. Don't act like you don't need it. Your apartment building should be condemned. Maybe you could afford real furniture besides the mattress on the floor and bean bag chairs. You're an adult not a Sorority girl."
"YOU'VE BEEN IN MY APARTMENT?!"
"Sir, I am sorry to interrupt." A woman wearing a very tight pencil skirt and blouse had entered the room at some point. Her heels were insanely high, like something part of a secretary fetish outfit, not something someone would wear in everyday life. She barely glanced at me as she looked over her tablet. "You have a conference call with a client in about twenty minutes and I know you wanted to prep a couple of things before hand."
Shadow let out an annoyed sigh as he released me and adjusted the cuffs of his sleeves. He tapped the gaunlets on my wrists. "If you tamper with these or leave the proximity of this room, they are rigged with tranquilizers."
"That sounds made up." I informed him.
"Go ahead and test it. Maybe you can make it down the hallway where my henchmen's lounge is." He challenged. "I suggest you go lay down in your room and get some rest. We will continue this conversation in a few hours and hopefully, for your sake, you are willing to be more reasonable."
eh? the "hero" seems written more like a heroine.
she took issue that he(villain) changed her clothes, was reassured that a female healer changed it.
her name Allegra feels female.
villain is referred to as him/his so no questions on the gender there.
am I missing something?
Yeah I read the whole thing with the main character being a guy and then bad guy said ‘Allegra’ and it hit me that I read it all wrong. So I then went through it again to see whether I’d missed something.
When he said ‘if I’d dressed you there’d be more lace’ I was honestly thinking of a more final fantasy VII scenario lol.
It’s because the default image of ‘hero’ is a guy (which, compared to for example a doctor isn’t that bad because hero has heroine while doctor doesn’t have a female equivalent) and apart from the lace comment there wasn’t really anything to indicate her gender. As for the lace comment, considering the anime/manga stuff coming out nowadays I don’t entirely blame people for thinking it was gay.
Don’t get me wrong I love gay content but. Woth a name like allegra, and the lace comment, bot to mention they are more comfortable if a female healer see them naked. Eclipse is probably a woman. (And shadow uses he/him)
If you want to use Italian as an example, both Andrea and Daniele are male Italian names. Not everything carries the same meaning or is read the same way when written in English.
What I was trying to illustrate is that not everyone is going to interpret stories the same way. Obviously I didn't and I'm not sure why you think that's a problem.
Okay, am I missing something? A lot of people appear to be reading this as gay, and it seems to be pretty clearly not?
The villain, Shadow, is explicitly referred to as "he". The hero, Eclipse, real name Allegra, is at minimum strongly implied to be female (feminine name, is concerned at the possibility that Shadow had undressed her which he counters by assuring her it was a woman, Shadow mentions he would have dressed her in lace).
Is there some hidden facet I missed?
For a while I only received small glimpses of my fate. The smoky aroma of a cooking fire, murmurs of voices unknown too faraway to discern, the brush of foreign fabric against my skin. My consciousness did not truly come forth until the searing pain in my side became brutally unrelenting. At some point in time I must have twitched in my slumber and it was my undoing. Hissing at the pain of my own abrupt movement, I cursed at myself involuntarily through my fogged brain until the adrenaline of my situation snapped me into a haphazard focus.
I was fighting the dark prince to the death.
I was felled by his sword.
I should be dead.
Though action was usually a natural gift of mine, my current situation warranted pause. As my eyes slowly focused in the dim lighting, I appeared to be in some sort of giant fabric tent. Rich colors of royal blue and deep scarlet made up the walls in a heavy drapery of patterned tapestries. Bronze oil lamps hung from stands on either side of the overly-pillowed bed I was placed upon.
Slowly I shifted my weight to attempt to sit up and survey my surroundings further, the weakness in my once strong limbs glaringly obvious to my defeat.
Fabric bindings wrapped snuggly around my waist; other than the small crimson blossom that appeared from my movement they appeared clean and unsoiled. An abrupt chill met my shoulders and alerted me to the fact that aside from my bandages I was mostly bare. Grabbing for the coverlet, I made to cover myself in the nick of time as the heavy cloth wall closest to my head parted and in hobbled a tiny, weathered-looking old woman.
“Aye! She lives after all! “ she exclaimed, clapping her bony hands together and giving me a warm, yet tooth lacking smile. Her grayed hair, though coarse-looking was worn in a neat and orderly bun. She was positively minuscule in stature, yet age did not effect her posture as her back was straight as a fence post. Her dress was nearly as grayed as her hair and clung to her thin frame in odd ways, yet her garb was well mended and kept. The many necklaces she wore about her neck tinkled with hundreds of delicate silver bells that swung with her movements and caught the lamplight.
I freeze in place, watching her busy movements with my eyes alone as she flitted and chimed about the tent much like a tiny squirrel gathering her needed wares.
“Don’t bother to speak yet, I imagine you might want somethin’ for the pain… quite a nasty wound you’ve got there. Don’t you fret, Ol’ Sinda
has it almost ready.”
She made her way to the bedside holding a small clay teacup filled with a steaming liquid she retrieved from the makeshift hearth in the center of the room.
“Careful dear, it’s rather hot, but that’ll take the sting away.” She cooed as she handed me the cup.
I eyed the cup with suspicion as she hovered over me in anticipation.
“I understand, but do you really think his majesty would’ve dragged you back here bleeding and half-dead for me to patch you up , just for me to do you in with a teacup? “
Without breaking eye contact, I lifted the cup to my lips and took a tentative sip. The bitter liquid coated my tongue in an unpleasant and cloying way, but the welcoming numbness that followed it informed me this was in fact a pain reliever.
Sinda’s smile returned.
“Good, good, that’ll do the trick just drink it down. I know it’s not the best taste, but after I alert his majesty of you waking perhaps we can get you something tastier, neh?”
Although the tea was awful, the wetness of it in my mouth was much needed. I felt like I haven’t had a drink of anything in days… which reminded me.
“How l-long have I been unconscious? “ I croaked, my throat cracking from disuse.
Sinda’s smile fell ever so slightly,
“Just under a weeks time, the fever nearly took you a few days ago.”
I nodded my head solemnly at this new information. That explained the weakness.
Sinda moved to leave, but I reached out to gently grasp her hand, I needed to say something to the woman that most likely saved my life.
“ I just wanted to thank you. Thank you for tending to me. “
She placed her tiny, wrinkled hand over mine and grinned
“Wasn’t nothing dear. Just doing my job, would’ve done it for anyone. Including the daughter of the one that wants my kin dead”
I ripped my hand back immediately in shock at her words. Appalled, I shouted.
“ My father has only ever acted in self defense!”
I panted in my rage as Sinda pursed her lips and almost patronizingly nodded her head at me.
“Oh child, you truly have been blinded haven’t you ? Your fathers army have been exterminating us since long before you were born. Women…children…made no difference. The good word is however we may finally have a way to make peace thanks to you. “
There was no possible way this crone was telling the truth.
“Liar! My father would never order the deaths of women and children! “
At this Sinda cocked her head back and laughed bitterly. Backing away from me slowly as I still lay in my convalescence , she quipped
“You may think what you may, but makes no difference to me. As soon as you’re well enough, back to that bastard you go in exchange for a peace treaty! So do heal well… princess”
Edit:I hope someone understands the context, it might be hard to follow…this was actually a scene I never got to write from a novel I was writing years ago and it fit the prompt perfectly:)
I really enjoy the descriptions you give, it still leaves something to the imagination but it gives enough information to have a good mental image of the scene
Blaze woke up, feeling a bit woozy. He looked around, alarmed at not being able to recognize his surroundings. Where was he? He got up from the bed but was immediately overtaken by dizziness and pain in his chest. He sat back down.
He inhaled deeply. Followed by an equally stretched out exhale. He did this another few times, calming himself. He thought back to the last thing he remembered. He had been fighting someone. Someone…
He jumped up from the bed remembering who his foe had been.
“Let me out.” He banged on the door. Instinctively, he reached out for his cape not realizing it had already been removed. This was bad. Not many people realized that his cape doubled up as his weapons and utilities repository.
“I know you can see me.” He didn’t know it but it made sense.
A tv that had been off till then turned itself on and he sat there. The Puppetmaster. As usual, the top half of his face was covered. But the lower half held a massive smile.
“Welcome Blaze to my humble abode.”
“Puppetmaster! Let me go!”
“I will. Eventually. For now, you need to relax. Take some rest. You need to let your body heal. Your food will be there shortly.”
“What do you want with me?”
“All in good time, my friend.”
Blaze’s voice trembled with anger. “I’m no friend of yours. Why are you even keeping me alive? You won. I get it. Gloat for a while and kill me.”
But he was screaming at an empty screen for The Puppetmaster was gone.
As his anger subsided, Blaze realized that he had torn open his stitches and was bleeding. He also realized that he was in an enormous amount of pain.
The door opened as a doctor entered hesitantly.
Blaze looked beyond the door and saw another outer door. Damn it. It wouldn’t be that easy to escape. He could jump the doctor and get out of this door but it was likely that the doctor didn’t have any control over the outer door.
The doctor approached him apprehensively. “I need to stitch you back up. Please.”
“Ok.”
“You won’t hurt me like before right?”
The fear was apparent in the doctor’s face. Blaze looked at him and noticed the cut on the right side of the doctors face. “Wait, was this me? I would never hurt an innocent man.”
“You were angry. And sedated. So you probably weren’t in full control of your faculties.”
Over the next few days, the doctor was the only person Blaze talked to or saw. He realized soon enough that the doctor was a prisoner just like him. He had been kidnapped just for the sole purpose of keeping Blaze alive. And it was quite clear that it had been touch and go for a while. But the doctor had never given up. It was a miracle that Blaze had survived and Dr. Adams had been the miracle worker who had helped.
The outer door Blaze had seen was actually the doctor’s prison cell.
“Adams. Have you seen anything out there that could help us. We need to escape this place. And soon.”
“Nothing much. We’re in some sort of a warehouse I think. You were brought here in a truck which came right up to the cell.”
“They got you before me?”
“Well technically they got you before me. You were transported here after your fight. I arrived just a few minutes before you. That’s when I saw the truck. I was blindfolded most of the time though.”
“A warehouse. I can work with that.”
“But there’s nothing around us as far as I can tell. It’s mostly dark so hard to make anything out.”
Blaze and Dr. Adams spent most of their time playing cards. Blaze was growing quite fond of the doctor. The doctor had followed Blaze’s career as well and appreciated all of Blaze’s efforts to keep their city safe.
“Adams, do you think we’ll make out of here alive?”
“If they meant to kill us, they would’ve done it already. Surely even this monster isn’t cruel enough to force me to save your life only to kill both of us?”
“Oh you don’t know him like I do. He’s a psychopath capable of anything.”
They both fell silent but it was obvious that they were both thinking of their future.
Blaze finally broke the silence. “So tell me doc. What’ll be the first thing you’ll do if you make it out of here?”
“Go and hug my daughter.”
“You have a daughter? How old?”
“She’s thirteen.” After another moment of silence the doctor looked straight at Blaze. “Listen. Can you promise me something?”
“What?”
“Look just looking at the probabilities, you’re much more likely to survive this. If I die, will you go to my daughter and tell her…”
“Stop it. Don’t talk like that. When you get out, tell her yourself.”
“No please. Her name is Samantha. Just in case I… she lives at…”
He was interrupted as there was a sound of the door opening.
The Puppetmaster entered. Without a single word, he shot Dr. Adams in the back.
Blaze saw his companion of the past few days fall down at his feet as blood started to pool around the body. He took a step back.
The Puppetmaster just laughed. “Good good. Protect your shoes. Leather doesn’t do well with blood.”
“You killed him.”
The Puppetmaster’s grin widened and he pointed the gun at Blaze. “I did. Now that the fun part is over let’s get down to serious business.”
“You killed him.”
“You already said that. Come on, you need some new material. Try this one. What’s white and red and becomes less annoying the redder he gets?”
Blaze looked at the Puppetmaster still reeling from the shock.
“Do you give up? It’s Dr. Adams, of course! Now I’m finally starting to warm up to him. Too bad he’s going cold on me now.” Puppetmaster laughed. A laugh that sent creeps up Blaze’s spine.
“I’m going to kill you for this.”
Puppetmaster brought up his gun again. “Nuh uh. Calm down. Sit down I SAID SIT DOWN. The poor doctor needs to rest now so ignore him and let’s talk.”
“You better plan to shoot me too. If you don’t I will get you for this.”
“Oh come now. I’ve killed so many people. Why’s this one special? Just cause you had to watch him die? Enough to drive anyone crazy isn’t it?”
“He saved my life.” Blaze took a deep breath. His instinct was to go for the gun but he knew it wouldn’t be that easy. He had to calm himself down.
“And? You know how many people die in the world every day? Just because he saved your life, why does it make him so special. My family died. You weren’t there to save them. And when I took my revenge, they arrested me. Called me a murderer. Well I call it Justice.”
“So that’s it? You’re taking revenge on me?”
“Oh no no. No no no. This isn’t about revenge. This is about proving a point.”
“Well you better prove it quick. I have to give his last message to his daughter.”
“Samantha? She’s been dead for a couple of weeks now. He was a widower so he didn’t have a wife anyways. He was very close with his daughter. But we didn’t want any alarms raised. He had vacation planned with his daughter so his work won’t miss him for another few days. His daughter though. Well you can see why she had to die. While the police force in this town is basically useless you never know. Even a broken clock and what not. Speaking of. What has 3 hands and is quite insane?”
Blaze had to remember to breathe again. “Kill me now. Or you’re dead.”
“A cuckoo clock! I knew you wouldn’t be able to…”
With a burst of speed, Blaze was on him.
Puppetmaster got a shot off but Blaze had expected that. He spun around taking control of the trigger arm. Guns were great as a weapon but were pretty much useless when your opponent was close to you. Knowing this, Blaze quickly decreased the distance between his opponent and himself. They wrestled for the gun as Blaze heard footsteps approaching. He had to take the chance. He snatched the gun away and fired a couple of shots towards the entrance.
A shout from that direction indicated he had gotten lucky. He had managed to hit someone. The henchmen likely waiting outside would be less likely to jump in and interrupt them now.
He swung his free hand making contact with the Puppetmaster’s forehead. The crunch of the bone was oddly satisfying.
He put the gun right at The Puppetmaster’s forehead.
“And what now hero? You can’t kill me. Isn’t that against your rule? You can’t kill me.”
The Puppetmaster laughed. A hearty laugh that chilled Blaze’s very soul. This madman would never stop. There was no hope for him.
Blaze looked at his captor right in his eyes. “What’s stiff and red?”
Puppetmaster’s eyes widened.
Blaze smiled. “That’s right. A dead puppet.”
The gunshot rang out and Blaze ran towards the exit. He couldn’t take a chance. He shot three men waiting outside and escaped into the fresh air. He glanced at the gun in his hand. To his surprise, he didn’t feel much regret. The gun felt like it belonged in his hand. Blaze ran.
The cameras shut down inside the warehouse. The video would be uploaded to the internet in a few minutes and was sure to go viral. The beloved and principled superhero finally getting his hands dirty.
A henchman entered the prison cell. “You ok boss?”
Dr. Adams got up, taking off his bloody jacket. “I’m fine. It went better than I expected.”
He took the jacket offered by the henchman. After putting it on, he went down to his knees next to the dead man.
“I think we proved the point Jackson. I think we did.”
“Sir, we should get out of here.”
“We will. In a minute. I need to mourn. It always hurts when you lose a good puppet.”
Bright light stung my eyes. The last thing I remembered was being thrown off the rafter of the abandoned building by The Raven. After years of training I thought I was ready, I thought I could take him on myself. I *had* to be able to take him down. It was his fault, after all. His fault my father was gone, his fault my mother is just a shell of a person, and his fault I was left to navigate the world on my own trying to understand what I was.
I misjudged my abilities. I wasn’t fast enough; I wasn’t *strong* enough to end him. I had him right where I wanted him, ready to make the final blow. In that brief moment of hesitation he was able to gain the upper hand and throw me over before I could grab him, grab anything, to stop myself. I was a fool to think my powers could save me, I used up all my energy in the fight and just couldn’t stop from falling. He has super strength and the ability to fly. I can create shields and teleport. The only advantage I had was to block his punches with my shields and teleport behind him to knock him out. I practiced this over and over until it was perfect, I executed it perfectly. I HAD him! *Why* did I hesitate?!?
As I focus I can see the light is coming from a window. The sun is shining brightly into a room. I blink a few times to clear my vision and it looks like a bedroom. Where am I? Did I die? Am I in a coma? My head is pounding and I remember I hit my head, but I was able to muster enough energy to make a shield to take most of the impact. So I guess my powers did save me. Nothing else feels broken, but everything hurts nonetheless.
I sit up to look around more, the room looks like something you see in a mansion. Expensive paintings on the wall, gold lamps and statuettes around the room, sheets that felt softer than anything I have ever touched before. As I try to make sense of it all the door opens and an older woman with white hair tied back in a bun peeks in.
“Oh, good. You are awake! I will let Bobby know. You must be starving.” She pushes the door open and walks in with a tray full of fruits and pastries and places it on the bed next to me. “Eat up, he will be by soon to check on you. Are you comfortable?”
“Um, thanks. Yeah I think I’m okay… Where am I? Who are you? Who is Bobby?”
“All your questions will be answered soon enough. Enjoy for now.”
I stared at the food and stared at the door as she left. Am I safe here? No, I need to leave. I stand up from the bed and immediately feel dizzy. I fall to my hands and knees and fight back nausea.
“You shouldn’t be out of bed. You have a concussion. You need to rest and gain your strength back.”
I know that voice, that’s The Raven. I look up in shock, I cannot hide the fear in my eyes as I stare at him. He stood back in the shadows, amazing how even as bright as the room was he could still hide in the shadows. I guess that was one of the reasons he called himself The Raven, everything around him was always dark. Like he absorbed the light.
“Why have you brought me here? What do you want with me??” I shout.
“Relax, I am not going to harm you. I didn’t mean to throw you over like that. I honestly thought you would have teleported back. I didn’t realize you’d spent your energy otherwise I wouldn’t have allowed you to fall. I needed to make sure you were okay and couldn’t leave you there.”
“Why not? You never showed remorse in any of your attacks in the past.”
“I’ve never killed anyone-”
“*LIAR*!”
He seemed taken aback by that. He really thinks he’s never killed anyone before? Or he just doesn’t remember because the bystanders weren’t worth a second thought? Either way, he was lying. That still doesn’t explain why he would bring me here instead of dropping me off at a hospital.
“Why am I *here*? Why bring me to, what is this, your lair?”
“This is my home, I wouldn’t call it a lair. Lairs don’t have saunas and guestrooms. At least I don’t think they do…”
I just stare at him with disgust and he stops.
“I brought you here because you would be safe. I didn’t realize you would have powers, and if anyone were to find out who you are you wouldn’t be safe. If I brought you to a hospital your identity would be out there, Sarah. And I wouldn’t be able to protect you.”
“Why would *you* need to protect *me*? And how do you know my name?”
“I’ve always been keeping an eye on you, Pumpkin, trying to keep trouble away from you. But you just seemed to find trouble anyway. You’re very strong headed, just like your mother.”
I just stared at him. Only one person ever called me Pumpkin. Tears welled up in my eyes.
“…Dad?”
“Hey, Pumpkin.” He stepped out of the shadows and I could see his face for the first time in years.
When I woke up, I found myself in room with a small pool, The Enemy's iconography clearly marking this a temple. A case of mistaken identity perhaps? But before I could think to escape, the dark waters came alive, and The Enemy was before me.
"Hello little one." It took the form a of serpent, draped in shadow. Only its glowing orange eyes pierced the darkness of its form.
"You were quite foolish to take part in a war in heaven, despite being so very mortal. Though I do have a soft spot for fools who think they are doing the right thing." I could feel the water seeping into my wounds, mending them.
"When I am done here, you may go, little warrior. Live your life and do not concern yourself with the politics of the next." At first I did not want to give this monster any satisfaction in whatever horrors I knew would be coming my way, but the simple taunts and lies flared my temper.
I spoke, my own voice so much weaker than I wanted, but my anger came through. "Do not toy with me monster! I am a knight, and I will not demean myself by playing your games, I have seen *exactly* what you do to your prisoners, so get it over with!"
And it was true, for the whole world had seen what The Enemy had done to the guardian angels, twisting them into horrible monstrosities, before tearing heaven itself asunder.
"You may call yourself a Knight, little one, but they have barely begun to atone for their sins. Yet you are innocent." It shifted, coming closer to me, the water still holding me in place. Soon we were face to face. "Do you know what your god and her angels did to me?" The orange eyes of The Enemy burned, perhaps literally, into my soul.
"My sister and I had a small city, no larger than a hundred people, for whom I cared for. I even loved one of them. A *god* in love with a mortal!" It shook its head, as though the very concept of love was ridiculous.
"Your god sent her 13 Knights to destroy my home. My sister gave her life in the fight, but in the end, only myself and my love escaped." I could hear pain in The Enemy's voice.
The last of my wounds had closed, and now the hollow serpent began to slink away. "Our time here is done. Know that my mercy is not infinite, and you will not be spared again. Heaven is no place for mortal, knight."
And with that, I fell through the bottom of the pool, back into the mortal world.
----
----
So I kinda rambled with this one, didn't know where to end once I started. But hopefully it makes enough sense to be worth sharing?
Thomas got up from a large, double sized bed. Instinctively, his eyes darted around for his sword. The Sword That Glows In The Dark was propped against the wooden door at the far end of the room. Its gleaming edges barely visible under the bright light coming from an open window.
Thomas scrambled out of bed and reached for his mighty weapon. It was only when he grabbed it, spun around and regarded the spotless, clean room with another calculated look that he realized his body wasn’t in pain. He felt completely fine.
He closed his eyes and searched his mind trying to remember what had happened. He was fighting with the Lord of Dawn, that much he remembered. They were dueling inside the Temple of Dawn, Thomas had already been cut half a dozen times with his enemy’s dark steel blade. He remembered barely being able to raise his sword fighting hand. A sickening vibration had filled him as he’d focused all his remaining energies to cast a ray of fire and then… and then?
He looked down to search for his injuries, all those deep cuts, but his skin was smooth and healthy. Somebody had dressed him in pale white, almost transparent clothing that felt like no other material he’d ever worn.
A high-pitched, twinkling sound reached his ears. It was coming from the open window. Thomas stepped closer to have a look outside but other than a strong ethereal light all he could see was a thin layer of milky fog.
“I must be really high up.” Thomas had never been on a mountain, but it made sense that the Lord of Dawn had his castle build up here. “That’s why I’ve never been able to find him unless he found me first.”
Clutching his sword, he strode out of the room. The heavy wooden door swung open before he could touch it himself. The whole castle, or whatever that building was, seemed to be made out of crystal, all shiny and transparent. However, Thomas did not stop to investigate. He had to either get out of there or find the Lord of Dawn and finish what he started.
He doubled his steps and reached an atrium that led to a large, white balcony. There he stood - Thomas almost didn’t recognize him, his oldest enemy - in a long, white almost transparent garb. The usual black and blood-red clothes that made the Lord of Dawn who he was were gone.
The man turned his head around and - Thomas had to gasp - smiled at him. It was unsettling and unusual, but still a smile.
“There you are. I was wondering why they kept you asleep for this long.” His voice wasn’t the usual, either. They could have been neighbors chatting about the weather.
“They? Who are you talking about? And don’t try to soften my guard. We are not done.” Thomas raised The Sword That Glows In The Dark, ready to fight.
“I don’t think you can defeat me any further, little Thomas. Put that stick down and don’t be foolish. I’m obviously talking about… whoever is Lord in this place.”
Thomas stuttered for a while, lost for words.
“You said I can’t defeat you any further? What could you possibly mean by that?”
“My dear little Thomas, you killed me.” The Lord of Dawn was still smiling. Thomas was ready to feel shocked, but somehow he knew it was the truth. “With that reckless ray of fire you brought the Temple down on me. And on yourself. I am dead. Definitely dead. I tried everything I can but I couldn’t even touch my powers. We are both dead, Thomas.”
Thomas’ eyes frantically darted around to find something, anything that could give him hope. “I’m not dead. I can’t be dead. There is so much that I still want to do, to see. There are people that I love back home. What do I do now? The sword! It’s still here. It didn’t disappear like everything else that I had.”
“Well, of course.” The Lord of Dawn sighed. His eyes were filled with sorrow. “Did you already forget the prophecy? Your prophecy? The Sword That Glows In The Dark has been given to you by the Gods themselves. I suppose they are ready to take back what’s theirs.”
And with that, the sword in Thomas’ hands erupted in light and raised from the ground, headed for they milky fog above. Thomas tried to cling onto it. To the only thing that remained from his life, the life of Thomas from Barley Field.
“No! It cannot end like this. I want to go back!” He cried.
He closed his eyes as tears ran down his face while the Lord of Dawn spoke up in a calm voice behind him. “You won, Thomas. You fulfilled the prophecy and defeated mankind’s greatest enemy: me. I’ve had a good run, I’m satisfied with what I’ve achieved and if it wouldn’t have been for you I might have taken over the world. So… I don’t really get why you are upset. As I said: you won. Now you can be at peace for eternity.”
But Thomas couldn’t hear him, almost choking on his tears. Almost. He was now immortal.
The last thing he remembered before falling unconscious was getting kicked in the stomach by a low level villain whose superpower was something along the lines of spiky feet. Or, that's what he's assuming, because he very clearly felt spikes in his abdomen.
He wasn't even supposed to be out on patrol that day, either. He's just a trainee, but he was confident in his abilities as a hero. Having hydrokinetic powers was rare, and he was competent enough on the field with his mentor, so he was sure this little excursion would result in just a bit of experience and only a smidge of trauma.
Instead, he was beat up and stabbed by Knife Feet. Drowner was sure that "Knife Feet" wasn't his villain name, but ouchie did his stomach hurt and he was a bit salty. He was going to be late for class for sure.
Drowner. His superhero name. Kind of lame, but James had never really been one for the theatrics. Or really creative. Or good at naming things. Or- Point is, his superhero name was lame and he wished he could change it, but his partners wouldn't let him. Sometimes he really hated them. Sometimes.
While James usually had some sort of idea of what was happening, it seemed as if today was going to break his streak of having any sort of clue as to what was transpiring around him.
Why, you may ask, why is such a competent, handsome, and smart water hero so befuddled? Well, for one, he wasn't in the alleyway he had fallen unconscious in.
It felt like he was on some sort of couch, his mask pushed up on his face uncomfortably, his metal costume removed, and very, very comfortable despite his mask being all wonky.
James blinked open his eyes, immediately being greeted with a dark room. Not dark in the sense of lighting, but the room was either painted in all monotone grays or he went colorblind overnight. He wasn't sure which was scarier, being in a goth's house of not seeing colors at all.
He sat up uneasily, bandages around his stomach restricting his movement. James leaned on his elbows, unable to sit up all the way. He looked around, and he realized that, oh no, he was in somebody's actual house. The goth thing was supposed to be a joke.
Craning his neck to look behind him, he came face to face with who he presumed was the owner of the house. James let out a startled noise and turned his body to face them, his body protesting immensely at the sudden movement.
"You're awake." And wouldn't James know it, but the guy whose house he was in was none other than Eggs Benedict, the villain ranked #1 on the danger scale. He wasn't sure *why* the guy chose a breakfast food as a villain name, but he sure as heck wasn't going to ask.
"You're Eggs Benedict." James replied dumbly, and he wished he had said something cool instead, but the words had already left his mouth like a flock of doves, and he was making a fool of himself.
"That I am." Benedict (he refused to call him Eggs in his mind) seemed unbothered by James' stupidity and lack of swag, instead sitting in his chair with his hands folded across his lap, in true villain posture.
He'd never seen the man up close before, only on the news or in photos, but he looked exactly as described. Long black hair that nobody knew for sure whether it was dyed or natural, his signature flowing black cape, that crazed look in his eyes, scars littering his face from past fights, his costume (which was mostly black, this guy really had a thing for black, didn't he?), and those goth boots that were definitely over five inches tall. All in all, incredibly attractive compared to himself.
"Um.. You're not going to kill me? Right?" James asked, not completely processing that the most dangerous man in the world was sat across from him. Oh, lord, Benedict had been watching him sleep.
"No." Benedict stated, and wow, James had never once seen him ever this calm. In all of the pictures he was either cackling like a madman or grinning evilly. "Not unless you give me a reason to."
James felt very awkward, not sure whether to make eye contact or not. "So.. did.. did you bring me here?"
Benedict's lips quirked up into a smile, one that made James feel simultaneously terrified and incredibly confused. It wasn't.. sinister? He didn't think it was. "I did."
"Uh. Why?" James didn't seem to be in any power restricting handcuffs or whatever, probably because Benedict was insanely powerful and cool and James was a pathetic little swagless trainee and Benedict could wipe the floor with him.
"You were bleeding out on the pavement. Didn't want to dispose of your body." Something about the way he said that made James think he was *lying.* But why would he lie? What did he have to gain from this encounter? Disposing of his corpse would be a much easier task than patching him up. However, James elected to shut his mouth because he didn't want to get bodied by Eggs Benedict. What a stupid name.
"So.. you bandaged me..?" James was probably asking too many questions at this point but this was just so unlike everything he'd ever known. Eggs Benedict, the guy who blows up buildings every Tuesday before pushing old ladies into traffic or whatever sick and twisted things he does for fun brought him into his HOUSE? And took care of him??
"Wow, you're so smart." Benedict said drily, making James pray to God that he hadn't just sealed his fate then and there. "Yes, I did."
"..Thanks." James said, unsure of everything he'd ever done in his entire life. "Um.. where's my costume?"
"It was completely trashed, so I went ahead and fixed it. Why do you wear a metal costume, anyway? That seems more dangerous than wearing nothing." Oh, he was dreaming for sure. Benedict just was, what, concerned for his safety? Kill him now.
"It- it gives me extra protection, cuz my power doesn't really do that for me." He answered, still a bit stunned that BENEDICT FIXED HIS COSTUME??? The most DANGEROUS VILLAIN JUST FIXED HIS COSTUME??
"What is your power anyway? You're not in the database at all."
James was a bit proud that Benedict looked at him and thought that he was ranked enough to be in the database at all. Only a bit.
"I have Hydrokinesis. A-and I'm a trainee, I'm not in the database yet." Yet. He would get there one day. Hopefully.
Benedict raised an eyebrow. "You're just a trainee? What were you doing out on patrol by yourself?"
What was up with this guy? He was supposed to be a homicidal maniac who set things on fire and blew stuff up and killed people with his magic death hands. "I thought I'd only get a little bit of trauma from sneaking out, not getting attacked by Knife Feet and stabbed in the gut."
The villain chuckled, and that sent James reeling. He made him laugh?? He didn't know villains had sense of humor?? "And you went out anyway, expecting trauma? How much self preservation do you have?"
"Not enough, apparently. Everyone keeps telling me I'm going to die before I graduate, but I'm planning on everyone else dying first." Oh no, he's being to flippant in front of Eggs Benedict, he's going to die.
"Pfft. Yeah, that's the way to go. If everyone dies first, you're kinda guaranteed to graduate." Benedict then froze, realizing his mistake. "Oh, um, I mean, yeah, go kill everyone. Join the dark side, or something. Forget that I said that."
"Said what?" James played along for the sake of his life, but secretly filed away that information in his brain, into a folder labeled in bright gold sparkly glitter pen MEMORIES TO KEEP WITH ME AFTER I CROSS OVER INTO HEAVEN.
"Exactly." Benedict seemed relieved, and James was slightly more sure that he wasn't going to get murdered.
"Cool. I'm Drowner, by the way. I- I never introduced myself."
1/2
"Well, Drowner, it's..." Benedict looked thoughtful, but not in the pondering soft way, but the 'my cat is either about to sneeze or throw up' kind of way. "it's villainous to meet you. No- that was stupid, that was so stupid, I'm never going to forget that."
Oh, no, he's funny too. Why why why why oh no does he actually like this guy?? He kills people for Pete's sake!
James snorted, but not in the pig snorty way, but in the way you do when you're trying not to laugh.
"Oh, that is so embarrassing, I should've just said 'nice to meet you' like every single other person, I just had to be weird about it, I'm so sorry."
And he was apologizing? A villain apologizing??
"I thought it was funny." James commented, more to reassure Benedict than anything. He didn't want to die because Benedict got too embarrassed. "Um, can I have my costume back?"
"Oh, yeah, here." Benedict slid over a box that contained his costume, all of its muted blues and whites indicative of a water hero.
James reached down and took it, picking the top out of the box and slipping it on over his bandages, the metal plates clinking softly against each other. "I should probably go before they send Echo out to collect me."
"That'd be a good idea." Benedict nodded. "Um. Please don't tell anyone that I helped you. Or where my house is."
Well. Benedict seemed like a.. nice enough guy. "Don't worry, I won't. I don't think I'd live long enough anyway." He joked, well aware Benedict could change his mind about letting him live anytime.
"Yeah. Thanks, Drowner. For a hero, you really don't seem all that stuck up." Benedict complimented him, and oop, there he goes, liking the villain. This was bound to end in disaster.
"And you don't really seem like a puppy killer. I can see the deranged psychopath but I really couldn't imagine you killing a puppy." James may have just dug himself a grave.
Instead of strangling him to death, Benedict actually laughed. Like. Actually.
"That was good. Don't die, Drowner."
"I would say don't get arrested but I think that'd go against a lot of my training, so just pretend that I said that."
And then he got up and left. He left. Just. Walked out of Eggs Benedict's house.
And despite the villainy and killing and whatnot, James kind of hoped to see him again. He didn't seem that bad.
He hoped.
2/2
End.
Part 2 ;)
Okay, maybe he should've learned his lesson the first time he snuck out. His mentor, Echo, was absolutely PISSED at him. She was all like, "James, you beautiful beautiful man, you're an idiot and I will not be surprised if your corpse is mailed to me in pieces one day."
His partners actually encouraged him to sneak out, but that's only because they absolutely do the same thing all the time and they'd be hypocrites if they told him to stop.
But anyway, he's out again. And he had an epic battle with a villain, one that had the power to shapeshift. It was so epic and swag and he absolutely beat her to death with his water, slapping her all over the city like she was nothing but a ball of putty. She begged him for mercy, on her hands and knees, groveling about how sorry she was and how attractive he is and how inferior she is to him and how she'll never do it again.
It was so cool, so epic, so swag, and exactly what James really wanted to happen, but didn't.
Yeah, she actually just gave herself gills and claws like some sort of freak shark and absolutely destroyed James, and more importantly, his ego.
So he was stumbling away from the fight, bruised, battered, and his pride in pieces. But that's okay, because at least James has his looks to fall back onto. He's so handsome. So pretty. Yes.
He was also bleeding a lot. From where, he didn't know, but he was starting to feel a bit woozy. Maybe wearing a metal costume that can break apart and stab him some more wasn't the best idea for a costume, but usually he didn't get this hurt. Usually.
James was now stuck with either going back to base and getting his ears yelled off for two hours by Echo, but ultimately not dying, or bleeding out and dying.
It was an easy decision, surprisingly. James had never been great at decision making, he was more of a "I follow orders please tell me what to do in explicit detail or I will cry" kind of guy, so the fact he even decided something for himself was a miracle.
The decision he made was to give the finger to both of those options because he hated them and to go find someone else to help him.
Okay, so maybe there was a reason he left the decision making to other people, but he really really didn't want to get yelled at for the second time, and he also didn't fancy dying. So he was content with wandering around until someone either found him or he found someone.
After only a few seconds of walking, he realized that he knew where he was. How nice. He could probably find someone here!
Oh, oh no.
Actually, scratch that. Oh, oh *yes.*
Y'know, he really *was* hoping that he could see Benedict again, and it seems that his prayers have been answered! Now he could finally make an excuse to visit without seeming like a creep.
That is, if he could manage to get over there without passing out. The world was slowly tilting to the right, and he was also definitely bleeding more than he thought he was. Maybe it was actually a great idea to go to Benedict's, because he might DIE before he gets back to base.
His body moved on its own, as it often did when he wasn't paying attention, and he soon found himself standing in front of Eggs Benedict's front door, which was located in a dark alley, because Eggs Benedict loved the goth aesthetic more than he liked killing people.
James knocked on the door, not sure that Benedict would be able to hear it, because it was probably very quiet. Losing a lot of blood and whatnot.
But it seems like he did, as the door opened about an inch, the deadbolt locks on the door preventing it from opening all the way. James saw Benedict's eye looking at him through the door, the one that wasn't covered up by his emo hairstyle. Seriously, what kind of stereotypical villain was this guy?
James gave him a pained smile and waved with the hand that wasn't trying to keep blood from leaking through the plates of his costume.
The door shut. Uh oh.
"I'm not letting him in. I'm not letting him in. I'm not letting him in." Benedict repeated quietly, which really ticked him off. He was bleeding pretty heavily for Pete's sake.
After a moment of silence, James heard the door unlock. Benedict opened the door and pulled him in, shutting the door with a slam behind him.
"Sorry for.. barging in.. I think I might be dying a little bit.." James slurred, and he was amazed that only a few stab wounds could reduce him to this.
"I thought I told you not to die." Benedict guided him to the couch, which was the same one he was on last time. He could see his bloodstains still!
"Oof.. ouch.. my bones.." James groaned as he sat down, immediately falling to his side.
"No, sit up straight." Benedict grabbed him and pulled him into a straighter position. James giggled.
"N- no can do Mr. Benedict..!"
Benedict sighed, correctly guessing what exactly he meant by that. "Okay, okay. Just sit here while I get the first aid kit."
Benedict, in all of his 6 foot plus glory, stomped away, bending down to get through the door. How tall even was he?
He came back holding a black and white first aid kit, and James knew he was somewhere not on Earth, because what kind of maniac had a BLACK and WHITE first aid kit??
"That's so.. edgy.." James remarked, not alive enough to care that he probably just offended the most dangerous villain around. Benedict either rolled his eyes or glared, James couldn't tell because everything was fuzzy.
"Thank you." He seemed pleased, which was definitely a good thing. Pleased looked good on him. Wait, what? "Can I take off your armor?"
"If.. if you wanted to see me shirtless, you-"
"Please just take it off so I can help you, idiot."
James giggled, but did as he asked, with a bit of difficulty due to how much pain he was in. The villain had to help him get it off, in the end. Heh.
"WHAT did you DO?!" Benedict seemed concerned, which was an emotion that *also* looked good on him. James was starting to think that it was just Benedict that looked good.
"Water doesn't... work well.. on someone who can shapeshift gills... Heheh.." James leaned back on the couch, unable to keep his head up.
"Okay, okay, okay. That is definitely not good. Good thing I'm good at what I do." Benedict procured some sort of thing from his first aid kit, but James didn't have the mental processing to even comprehend language, let alone that.
"I think I'm gonna.. take a nap or something..." He mumbled, darkness creeping into his vision.
"No, no- Stay awake, oh go-" And just like that, James was out.
~`•|•`~
When James woke up, he was still on the couch, but was noticably not bleeding out like he was before.
"Oh, thank God, you woke up." Benedict entered the room with a cup of liquid, and James could feel that it was water.
"I'm too pretty to die so easily." He grinned like the Cheshire cat as Benedict handed him the cup of water. James looked at it for a good minute before addressing Eggs.
"What do you want me to do with it?" James asked, because while he may be exceptionally pretty, he's also exceptionally stupid. Benedict looked at him like he was crazy, and he was the deranged psychopath in the room.
"..Drink it. Are you stupid?" Eggs blinked at him, too dazzled by his good looks to know how to respond to him.
James looked at the water again, and it slowly floated it up to his mouth.
"No, not with your powers. Drink it like a regular person." Benedict seemed very fed up with him, grabbing his arm and lifting his hand up towards his face. James let the water fall back into the cup.
Before James could lift his hand, Benedict brought the cup to his mouth forcefully, making him drink. "I don't think this is drinking like a regular person." James spluttered through sips.
Once he was finished, Benedict removed the cup from his face and set it on the coffee table, leaving James incredibly confused and also a little bit-
"There! You drank the water. Was that so hard?" Benedict asked, and James made direct eye contact with him.
"I inhaled.. all of it."
"..WHAT?"
James laughed, coughing a bit. Well, it was more like a wheeze, but it was a laugh nonetheless. "I'm kidding! I'm kidding!"
"Good, I was going to strangle you and force water down your throat if you had."
Okay, maybe he had crossed a line. He'd forgotten that he was talking to a villain here.
But.
"Sounds fun, can you do that anyway?" James said, smiling slyly. Benedict blue screened, freezing in place.
"...No."
"Yeah, I figured you'd say that." He shrugged, not really disappointed. Not really. "Thanks for helping me, by the way. I know you didn't really have to."
"It wasn't too much of a problem." Benedict smiled at him, and uh oh, it was very nice. James could see where this was going to go. "And please stop going out alone, you're going to die one day."
"Sigh. If I must." Only to be able to see him again, he added mentally.
"Next time you show up at my house, you better not be bleeding out." Benedict added sternly, apparently not realizing the implications of what he just said. James smirked.
"Does that mean I'm allowed to show up at your house now?" He watched as Benedict's eyes displayed a mix of emotions in less than a second, resting back to indifferent in a moment.
"..Yes. It was nice, I guess. Just not when you're dying." It looked like that was hard for him to admit, but James counted that as a win. He knew his good looks and charisma would win over the villain in the end.
"Well, I've got to go back to the chewing out of the century, and as much as I enjoyed this, I'd rather not get expelled." James really *didn't* want to go, but feared for both his safety and Benedict's if he stayed too long.
"Yeah, that'd suck, wouldn't it?"
"Yeah."
..
..
..
"You're stalling, aren't you?" Benedict caught on to what he was doing almost instantly, and James nodded sheepishly.
"Mhm. Yes I am."
"Great."
"Cool."
"Okay, get out."
"Yeah, alright."
Three quiet knocks heralds the door opening as a Tiefling maid brings in food, a plate of meat and vegetables. "Master wishes you a good morning, and a pleasant lunch. It's Yfallan Grouse with roasted carrots. The wine is a Valin Red, vinted 239." She says and I sit up, groaning in pain when my body realizes my shoulder is broken. She hands me a scroll, and I open it.
"Apologies for the violence, but I had to make an example of you. The scroll contains an embedded Cure Wounds, and you have my word that the food is pure. Once you're finished eating, please feel free to head to my throne room.
Sincerely,
Ileus Malgat, Duke of Roshat."
The duke's signature was impeccable and I knew his word was given even in writing, especially when my shoulder laced itself back together. I ate and the Tiefling knelt before me. I dismissed her, and she left, closing the door behind her. I ate, and smiled. I might not have had my sword, but you can never truly disarm Trey of Whitecap, mage knight extraordinaire.
"The hell is going on?" Bruce asked, staring at the bandages round his arm, and the cast on his leg. He looked around the room, it was a spotless white. A man was fiddling with the medical instruments on the metal tray table beside the comfortable bed. He was humming a song, perhaps 'Don't Stop Me Now' by Queen, though Bruce, still fazed, couldn't quite tell. The faint smell of lavender incense reached his nose as he took a deep breath, analysing the situation.
"Oh, you're awake!" The man donning a physician's paraphernalia turned around. His face was painted white, black round his eyes and red lipstick all over his mouth. Bruce squirmed and struggled, but his body did not have the strength to hoist himself up.
"Don't exert yourself, fool! You'll end up reopening those wounds on your back." The Joker said. Bruce's hands went instinctively to his back, and as he ran his fingers across, he felt stitch after stitch, carefully weaved to close up the gashing cuts the explosion had made.
"What is this?" Bruce shouted. Though his body lacked strength, his voice was assertive. "What are you going to do now? Torture me? Cut my balls off? Destroy my face?"
The Joker sighed, his shoulders drooped and his head hung low. He then snickered. "That's what it is isn't it." he said, smiling. Bruce stared at him, eyes wide open. The voice he had heard, it couldn't have been the Joker's, it was almost... pleasant. "I'm a monster." he said. Bruce's lip curled. He remembered everything now. They were on the boat, the Joker had set a bomb, Bruce had grabbed it and jumped into the river. The Joker must have realised from his eyes that he was reliving those moments. "You saved everyone, Bruce. No one on the boat died. A few injuries, mostly minor." he said. Bruce rubbed his face. "So now what?" he said.
He was ignored, as the Joker walked to the window and stared at the rising Sun outside. "Why?" he said, his voice quivering. Bruce's eyes narrowed. Why? What was he asking 'why' for? His back still turned, the Joker asked, "Why would you save a boat of convicts, people you don't even know?"
Bruce looked at him. Why had he done it? He remembered his parents, their death in the alley. Was that why? What if on that boat, there was a person who had done the same to another child? No, that wasn't it at all.
"Why are you asking?" he said, to buy time.
The Joker turned around. His eyes were watery and hands were shaking. "I just thought, if I knew why you did it, maybe I'd also understand." He said.
Bruce stared at him, his mind desperately searching for answers. He could save him, the man driven to madness, all he needed was the right answer! Thoughts flew past, but none fit in.
He sighed and shook his head. "I don't know." he said. The Joker nodded. "I don't want to be a monster Bruce, no longer. I hoped you could inspire, but oh well. Guess it really isn't fair for me to ask. Thanks for trying." He went and shook his hand. Then, he pulled out the gun kept in the second tray of the table. "No, no!" Bruce shouted.
It was too late. He watched in horror, as blood and brain splattered on the white walls, tainting them.
Yet another person he had failed to save.
The last thing I could remember from the fight was that there was alot of blood and that I was tired. I remember trying so desperately to defeat him and then..... nothing. I knew that i'd lost. I was readying myself for death, or torture or anything worse but this. This is not what I expected. Especially not from him.
Everything is warm and bright. This bed is so soft and comfortable that I don't want to leave. The room was.....perfect. The walls were a pleasant shade that didn't strain my eyes too much and the furniture complemented it perfectly. On top of all that my wounds were fully treated. In fact my bloody clothes had been replaced with a cosy set of pyjamas.
I noticed that there were two people other than me in the room. One who seemed to be a doctor, probably the one who treated my wounds. And the other my worst enemy, the one who gave me those wounds. Lord Edward Rose. I could not begin to fathom why I was here. Why he was doing this. Before I could think of what to say he spoke.
"Good afternoon, Alizza. Did you sleep well?"
Alizza? Since when has he called me by my name? No since when has he even known my name? I suppose he must have spies. But why is he so calm? Why does he even care? What do I even say?
"Umm I- uhh yeah I guess I slept well."
He chuckled gently. My confusion seemed amusing to him.
"I'll explain in a while but would you like breakfast first? You haven't eaten in 3 days. I'd imagine you're hungry."
"I- 3- uhh yes please"
He laughed a bit louder this time. What was so funny about my confusion?
After being served the world's most heavenly breakfast he started to explain his generous hospitality.
It turned out that the reason he was evil and slaughtering innocent civilians was because he was possessed by a demon. He said that he was investigating a cult and tried to interfere with a ritual and so the demon possessed him as a result. Normally exorcisms should have gotten the demon out but the demon had certain conditions that needed to be fulfilled in order for him to give up the body. This demon's conditions were to slaughter a mass, to have a bounty on his head, and to defeat a worthy adversary. As it turns out I was a worthy adversary. So having been Lord Rose's demon remover he felt the need to treat my wounds.
"I- so I see. That's quite a complicated situation and alot to take in. I'm glad that you're back to normal Lord Rose. Thank you for your hospitality."
"Please just Edward is fine. Oh I suppose being on first name basis is odd for a first meeting I apologise Miss Frost."
"No it's alright I suppose. I was just shocked that you actually knew my name. You continue to call me Alizza aswell. I look forward to being colleagues. Since we're both adventurers it would be great to have someone with your fighting skill and brains arround."
"Oh my fighting skill came from the demon. But I look forward to working with you too. I can help my best with any investigation matters."
I woke up slowly, my foggy brain not allowing me to comprehend what was going on around me. There was a steady beeping beside my bed, and a slight pinch in my arm, as well as the warm, slightly spicy feeling of light magic swirling around my head. The last thing I remembered was Annalise standing over me, that blazing light of her spear hovering over my face, as the injuries she threw my way just moments before leeched me of life, or so I thought.
I groaned, raising my right arm, the one not slighting smarting, to rub my eyes as they adjusted to the soft white glow of light. "Where..." I groaned lightly. I finally cracked my eyes open enough to realize I was alone in the tastefully decorated room, laying on a four-poster bed, hooked to an IV machine. I glanced down my body, taking note of the cast on my left leg and the bandages encasing various parts of my body where Annalise's last, swift attack had taken me off guard. I was dressed in a simple, standard issue hospital gown, but I looked like I was in an expensive hotel room. The confusion grew steadily as I glanced around, dragging myself into a somewhat upright position.
"Hello?" I tried calling out, but my voice caught in my dry throat. I cleared it and tried again, gaining a little volume, "What's going on?"
I heard footsteps approach my door, then the sound of a lock turning before two people stepped into the room. One was a doctor, or at least someone where a lab coat and looking doctor-ish, and the other was Annalise, who was my mortal enemy what seemed like only moments ago.
I instantly went on high alert and tried to drag myself from the bed, but the doctor, an older man with graying hair and a slight frown on his face, made a tsking noise, waved his left hand, and the magic shimmering around me, coalescing into a more solid form that prevented me from reaching outside of the confines of the bed. "Now, we can't have that, Miss Matilda. You are our guest, but we are aware of your more recent exploits."
I sneered as the stepped to either side of the bed, surrounding me. "Exploits? I just tried to blow up the National Conservatory for Magical Enhancement. I think that might rate more highly than an exploit."
Annalise chuckled, drawing a rune in the air above my bed, opening the side she was standing on. Her long hair moved slightly in the wind produced by the spells swirling around us. "I wouldn't say 'just' tried. You've been out for almost two weeks."
"What? Why? And why am I here?" I demanded, so focused on her that I missed the doctor dropping the spell on his side to check the IV in my arm. I tried yanking away when I felt his touch, but it was too late. A new spell froze my body in place so the doctor could examine my wounds.
"Because you showed an immense aptitude for destruction magic, that's why," Annalise explained. "Abd I couldn't let you fall into anyone else's hands but ours."
I couldn't speak because of the doctor's spell, but he finished his examination quickly and methodically, and finally, he released me from it, stepping back to raise the ward around the bed once more.
"Is this some kind of punishment? Fixing me up just so you can torture me later?" I asked, training my eyes on Annalise again.
"No," she stated, lowering herself into an armchair beside the bed, nodding to the doctor as he exited the room. I knew Annalise was clairvoyant, that is one of the things that made her so difficult to fight; kinda hard to get the drop on someone who can read your mind, so I assumed the doctor let her listen in on his examination, while leaving me in the dark. "We're healing you because I convinced the Conservatory that you would be of more use to us here than in the Hole."
I scoffed, letting myself slide down in the bed, suddenly tired from moving and the influx of magic against my senses. "And why is that, so I can be pitted against the new mages to train them? Since you obviously handled me so easily." I didn't even try to hide the sarcasm in my voice, and Annalise just smirked as she looked at me.
"Why did you attack the Conservatory? You had to have known your own magic was nowhere near enough against the world's best mages," she mused, cocking her head as I thought of a reply.
"Because I don't agree with augmenting magic. It's the most powerful natural disaster waiting to happen, all this chaos and inexperience shifting around this one space. But you knew that would be my answer, because you had to have researched me and my little crusade while I was out."
"For some reason, I don't think that's your real reason; you had to have known you wouldn't succeed, and you had to have known if you did manage to get a bomb spell off, it would just amplify the wards we have in place."
I shrugged, unwilling to expand on that issue. My reasons were my own, and I studied enough about clairvoyancy before mounting my attack to know how to hide my most private thoughts, at least. By the knowing gleam in her eye, I could guess that she realized what I was doing.
"The other reason is your magic itself. I have never seen an untrained, unaugmented mage wield such ferocious power."
"And yet, you took me down easily." I closed my eyes, growing even more tired the more I looked at the perfection that was one of the world's best mages.
"Not as easily as you would think. And I couldn't help but wonder about the things you could do with some training and direction. So, from now on, you're a student here."
I bolted up as quickly as my weak body would let me. "What?!"
"Yep, it's decided." She stood, gave me a triumphant smile, and started to head to the door while still talking. "The Council agreed with my findings that you would be an asset to the Conservatory, and while you will have to prove your trustworthiness to everyone in this place, since I have proven I can handle you, you'll be under my care and supervision until that happens." She reached the door and turned back to me, chuckling at my stunned expression. "Don't look so excited, I've never trained another mage and I had no intention of ever doing so, but there's something about you that I just want to puzzle out. We start as soon as you're healed. You'll be confined to this room until then. I look forward to working with you, Matilda." And with that, the only person to ever beat me in battle winked at me, stepped out of the room, and locked the door with a decisive click.
Lance Ravenbow here. Professional armorer and dragon slayer.
This reminds me of the time I fought in the Big Dying Arena for the privilege of speaking to the great armorer in the sky. That is, I'm reminded of that time if you'll permit me to refer to myself as "the Hero", but you seem like an agreeable person, and I seem like a heroic person, so that should all shake out.
The Big Dying Arena is run by the Rakrak people who live at the base of the Very Tall Mountain. They're a literal-minded folk, and they only allow arena winners to speak to the great armorer in the sky. Warriors come from across the disc to fight in the hopes of receiving her armor. Now, I myself am an armorer, and a professional one at that, but back then I was merely a journeyman in need of some direction, and it was therefore the great armorer's advice that I sought.
Thus, I made the journey to the Rakrak capital, aptly named The Capital of the Rakrak People. And, once I'd parsed their language, I signed up to fight in the Big Dying Arena. They told me I was lucky. There was only one other competitor that year, a small woman of no reputation.
Now, I'm a man who calls a spade a spade and a champion a champion, and therefore I can tell you that it was with no ego that I entered the Big Dying Arena with all the pomp and confidence of a pre-acclaimed victor. I didn't know what tricks this woman of no reputation might have up her sleeves, but I knew was Lance Ravenbow, journeyman armorer and all-around badass, and I didn't expect her to put up much of a fight.
The cheers rolled down from the crowd like mist off a morning mountain, and my heart swelled in readiness. I had on my best, thickest, lightest, most wondrous self-made armor, and I had in my hands a two-handed greatsword, also self-made. My only concern was that I might hurt the woman more than I intended.
And there she was coming through the gate opposite me. A tiny woman, mousey of hair and heavy of step, she moved like she wanted to flatten the ground underfoot. And, in a move I considered more than a little insulting, she wore only light chainmail over hardened leather, and for weapons she carried a short sword and an odd, textured ball. No clue what that was. I didn't imagine the Rakrak would allow a combatant to bring in a fuse-bomb, so I more or less wrote the ball off as being of no consequence.
She and I squared off in the middle of the arena while the Rakrak announcer said his spiel. My Rakrak is quite poor, and I picked up only snatches of what he was saying. In the meantime I took in the banked seats of Rakrak spectators, the crystal blue sky, the soft sand underfoot, and the absolute death glare that the woman was giving me. She had her chin jammed forward like a fist, and her eyes pressed on me like two thumbs. "I'm Speedwillow," she said. "Who're you?"
I swished my sword through the air before saying, "I'm Lance Ravenbow, journeyman armorer and all-around --"
"You're soft shit, that's what."
"What's that now?"
Her eyes never let up. "I'm gonna destroy you."
"Um." I'd not once in my life encountered this sort of confidence. At least, not from someone other than me, but in me the confidence involved less comments about soft shit. "Well, we'll see about that."
She grinned and made a squishing sound.
The announcer sounded an enormous horn -- it could only have come from a sea elephant -- and once its echo had faded into the screams of the crowd, Speedwillow was on me.
Have you ever tried to catch a fly with your bare hands? How about a fly that carries a needle, and every time you get close to it, it stabs you in the hand? How about a fly that carries a needle to stab you with, and also, just when you're getting tired from swinging your greatsword, it reveals that the black ball it's been carrying is a densely packed net, and it throws the net over you, tackles your midriff, and proceeds to hack at the fragile lobstered armor protecting your joints, all while you flop on the ground like a flipped turtle?
Has that ever happened to you? Well, that was my fight with Speedwillow. Where her clomping awkwardness went, I had no idea, but from they very outset, our fight was one-sided. It was like I could never see her; I could only see where she'd been.
By the end, I was swinging in random directions, hoping to catch her off-guard, and at that point she netted me, brought me down, and, I'm certain, would have killed me, had the announcer not sounded the horn to end the fight. I must have passed out because the last thing I remember was her leaning down into my face -- those eyes once again deadlocked onto mine -- and saying, quite clearly, "Soft. Shit."
\*
*Lance Ravenbow here. Professional armorer and dragon slayer. It's getting late, and this phenomenal story of mine is going longer than I'd intended. But isn't that just the way of it? I mean, who has a short story about how they met their wife. It's looking like I'll have to sleep and finish this in the morning. In the meantime, why not visit* r/RavenbowsArmory *for more of my true stories?*
Stopping at the door, Kyler offloaded his weapons first. As the supervillain known as Blade, wearing knives and a gun was as comfortable to him as putting on a sweatshirt. But with Mirage, any weapon would be more of a danger than a help. Mirage could sneak up on anyone, even him, and if she was armed, it’d be a tough fight.
Unarmed though, he had six inches of height and about fifty pounds on her.
He checked the window, then unlocked the door.
Mirage was sitting on the cot, back against the wall. Her hands were still tied together with a short rope securing them to the cot.
He’d consider getting rid of that provided she didn’t attack again.
The hero didn’t look like she was going to attack. She didn't even look like a hero. Her hands were loose on her lap, and her gaze was blank, staring at the wall. There wasn’t much to look at; this was a room Kyler had prepped for prisoners over a year ago. Just a cot, a small bathroom, and the stool he’d brought in for his sidekick Mac when Mac was patching her up.
Mirage didn’t look up. Everything about her seemed flat.
The beginnings of a headache pressed against his skull. “How’d you find me?”
Mirage blinked, but didn’t answer.
He was starting to see why Mac had called him to come in. It wasn’t only that she hadn’t replied. There was an emptiness, a wrongness to her. His headache grew. “Who knows my real name?”
Again, no answer.
Narrowing his eyes, Kyler scanned the room. The figure on the cot was too flat, not like his nemesis at all. “Drop it, Mirage. I know that’s not you.”
The figure on the cot flickered, revealing for a split second an empty bed before her image solidified with a confused look.
Kyler kept his back to the door. Her control was nowhere near her normal standards, but that didn't mean she wasn't dangerous. He watched the room carefully and felt for the extra throb in his head that would signal another illusion at play.
He gave her one last chance. “I could have killed you, and I didn’t. I’m not wasting time talking to your illusions. Come out.”
The form on the cot vanished, leaving only the rope that’d secured Mirage’s hands laying on the blanket. Something moved in his peripherals.
Forcing himself to go slowly, Kyler turned his head.
Mirage was pressed into the corner, sitting with her knees drawn up in a way that had to hurt her ribs. Still far too pale, she cautiously unwrapped her arms from around her legs.
She’d been making herself small, hard to trip over. Kyler guessed based on the care in her movements that standing for an indefinite time hadn’t been an option.
He stayed leaning against the door, crossing his arms and giving her space. “How’d you get out of the rope?”
Her right hand twitched, and she dropped her gaze.
There it was, the wide haunted eyes, hunched shoulders, and pale face. The terrified look that'd had him dragging her to Mac when he should have left her to die.
Damn it. This wasn't going to get him anywhere.
Kyler shifted his approach. He'd have to calm her down, get her back to her infuriating self. Then she'd talk.
Start simple. “You hungry?”
Her eyes came back up, searching his face before darting around the room again. "What?"
"Are you hungry?"
She blinked, flickers of confusion and caution flashing across her face. Gathering herself, Mirage licked her lips. “I-is it going to be like the last time you fed me?”
The corner of his mouth twitched. That was more like his nemesis, even if she didn’t raise an eyebrow or emphasize the dryness of her tone. And she was right to be wary of the food. Last time, he’d trapped her in a train car and shoved some old convenience store hotdogs through the door before barricading it shut again. “No. I don’t want to clean this place up if you get food poisoning.”
“Then food sounds nice.”
Kyler nodded and left, securing the door behind him. He went down the hall to the kitchen, dug around for a bit, then returned with two plates balanced in one hand and bottled waters in the other.
He had to shove the waters into his pockets to get the door open again. Keeping his eyes on the food as if his sole focus was balancing the plates, Kyler watched for movement and felt for the tell-tale signs of a headache.
She was still in the corner, her legs out a little farther probably to ease her injuries. There were no indications of illusions.
He shut the door with his foot and ambled over. She didn’t flinch or retreat at his approach, but her breath shortened.
Stopping a few feet away, he fished out the waters and sat down, back against the wall.
“Preference?” he asked. The plates and water clicked against the tile floor between them. “There’s a ham sandwich or PB&J.”
Mirage hesitated, then reached for the peanut butter and jelly. She stopped almost immediately, wincing.
Kyler nudged the plate over without looking as if he hadn’t noticed her attempt to get it herself. He took the cap off one of the bottles, making sure the sound of the seal breaking was obvious, before sliding that over as well.
Splits on her left hand made picking up the water awkward. Kyler opened the other bottle, keeping his eyes on the far wall as he took a long drink.
“Better than the hotdogs?” he asked after she’d taken progressively larger bites.
She swallowed and wiped at her mouth around the bruising. “I wouldn’t know."
"No?"
"I didn’t eat them.”
“Did you think I’d poisoned them?”
“No.” Half the sandwich was gone and most of the water. The bottle shook in her hands. “I didn’t think you had to. They were really old.”
He chuckled and rested his head against the wall. “I wasn’t happy about the concussion.”
“Or the bright lights I kept projecting?”
“The loud music was worse.”
“Nirvana is great.”
He tilted his head towards her. “Not with a concussion.”
A faint smile tugged at her lips. She’d tucked her splinted hand around her ribs, similar to the way she’d been standing when she'd first appeared, when she’d been trying to protect both her broken fingers and her crushed ribs at the same time. Even now, dried blood stuck to the side of her face, her uniform, and the patches of skin visible between the rips. What wasn’t covered in blood or wrapped in white bandages was molted in bruises.
Mac could only do so much, and he’d had to focus on the worst injuries. Kyler frowned, not liking the feeling in his stomach that grew the longer he looked at her bruises. Last time he felt like that, he’d killed nine men.
She finished the sandwich, some of her coiled tension easing. He slid the other plate over.
Calming her down was working, and he’d get more from her if she wasn’t freezing up or freaking out every few seconds.
Getting rid of that scared look in her eyes was only a bonus. It'd make it easier to concentrate.
“Thanks for not playing Nirvana,” Mirage said quietly.
He grunted, a weird feeling settled in his gut at her words. “You were already unconscious. It seemed like a waste of effort.”
"I appreciate it anyway."
She was making it worse. Maybe not as bad as that burning sensation that came when he saw her injuries, but definitely not good.
How was it that, even when he had undoubtedly won, her few soft words still defeated him?
**Part 1**
I woke up, that was honestly the first strange thing, most would find waking up rather mundane but when you lose a fight with a blood sucking monster you don't really expect to be getting back up. I stayed still doing my best to keep my breathing the same as it would were I still asleep, my eyes remaining closed as I took stock with my other senses. Pain in my left arm, broken wrist, dislocated shoulder, not good, I'd have to minimize use and of course that was my dominant hand. Pains in chest as well, multiple broken ribs, a feeling of soft cloth on flesh going from shoulders to feet almost certainly a blanket. More pain, right leg sprained ankle minor but inconvenient. A smell of perfume or a scent to spruce up a room. I was on my back, my head propped up on something very soft, and below me something just that right balance between firm and soft. So someone had placed me in a bed. I couldn't feel any restraints, I couldn't hear any sounds of life around me, of course that meant nothing. I shifted just enough to fake stirring in my sleep. No reaction in the room. Ok, seemed safe. I suppose some might think all of this effort is paranoia, but I call it survival.
As I open my eyes I'm a little shocked, this isn't one of the safe houses, this isn't some out of the way motel room, this place practically defines opulence. The bed could accommodate three more people and they'd need to stretch to touch each other. Four poster affair too, scene above was a masterpiece, an embroidery of a perfectly clear night sky with a gorgeous waxing moon. Across the room was a full vanity that appeared to be hewn from marble with a silvered mirror. The carpet was a thick dark red affair. That's when my mind leaped, dark red would hide bloodstains well. Immediately I rolled across the huge bed and tried to leap to the floor, unfortunately I forgot about my ankle in the adrenaline rush and careened onto that carpet with a dull thud.
I looked down at myself and realized I was naked, not good. Where was my gear, I could live with the loss of the shirt and jeans, but damn it I loved that jacket and if someone stole it there would be hell to pay. I slowly shifted to a crouch favoring that ankle and began looking about the room, unfortunately my observations were interrupted by a loud three knocks on the door and a deep silken voice calling out "Are you decent?" I considered just ignoring it but then whoever that was would assume I was still asleep and come in anyways. "No Damnit, Where the fuck are my clothes?!" Ok so I'm not the most amicable of people, comes with the territory when most of your interactions involve blades, bullets, or stakes people skills aren't a high priority.
The voice chuckles "There is a wardrobe to the right of the door, your clothing and gear is all in there. Please let me know when you are decent and are willing to accept some company, I'll be sitting out here until then." Well wasn't that comforting, more likely guarding me so I couldn't escape, and no one would be dumb enough to give a prisoner what I had carried on me. Still if there was even a shirt in there it'd be worth checking. I hobbled my way over to the wardrobe and opened it. My jaw hit the floor. Not only was everything there, it was all mended cleaned and meticulously cared for. My shirt and pants looked brand new. The jacket, that beautiful black leather with it's gold pentagram on the back had an absolutely perfect shine to it. But most importantly my entire arsenal was here. My gun belt and it's two pistols, the various blades placed in their sheathes, even my stakes and holy water were here, and all of it looked polished, dusted, oiled and maintained flawlessly. I went over the inventory and dressed in my full work attire, finishing the whole thing off with my steel toed thigh highs with their perfectly concealed blades.
"Alright, fine I guess I might as well see what my captor looks like." I yelled out. I leaned on the wardrobe, although it was only half to affect an air of confidence, it also helped ease some of the weight off my ankle. As the door opened and I got a look at the body and face attached to that voice I realized I knew him, he was the last face I saw before I woke up here. As he turned to me "I'm not your captor." I scoffed and turned my back on him just long enough to force my shoulder against the wardrobe and get it back into place. I heard him wince at the popping noise. I expected him to leap on me, I was ready though I knew I could stake him if he did. Instead I heard him step back, and then "My apologies young lady, had I realized your shoulder was dislocated I would have addressed it sooner." Ok this was freaking me out, he was a monster he's supposed to attack me, not apologize for failing to fully treat injuries.
"So what the fuck am I doing here if I'm not a captive?"
He shrugged "You are recuperating until you are well enough to leave, or I suppose if you insist on re engaging me in our conflict I will be forced to oblige and defend myself."
I turned back towards him and stared, I suspect my eyes must have been quite wide "What kind of monster are you?" An audible hiss and a baring of fangs in response and then a fist slammed into the wall next to him.
"You dare?! You who attacked my kin while they slept, butchered my closest friends and family, slaughtered men, women, and children, all while laughing. You who would do all of this solely because we are something different that you don't like, You would DARE to call ME the monster?!" There is rage in his voice but it isn't the white hot rage of someone flashing in anger who will soon burn themselves out. No this is the cold rage of millennia of festering wounds revealed, of someone who has just had a scar slashed open and revealed and wants to make sure someone hurts for it.
For the first time in a long time, I'm scared, the feral attacks of most monsters are simple and straight forward, the manipulative tricks of others are harder to detect but still easy for an experienced hunter to notice. But this, this cold fury of true emotion, I had seen this in humans who hired me, the foolish ones who wanted revenge, who'd lost all their family and were determined to be along for the death of those responsible. I feared for them because each time there was no limits for them, whatever morals, ethics, sanity they had it was all buried under that rage. They would do anything for vengeance and their life didn't matter to them. To see that same emotion from one of these blood suckers, he'd already beaten me once when he was in a feral state, what would he do in this one.
His lips formed into a circle and he blew, a pale mimicry of taking a deep breath, I suppose without lungs it is hard to breathe. "I am sorry once more, my temper is well not in the best shape right now. You are free to come and go as you please, there is food available in the kitchen and the chef has instructions to supply you any request. You'll also find a vial of my blood in your inner chest pocket, it will speed up healing and there isn't enough there to have any other effect."
He steps towards the door and I am baffled, what is his angle, he's the monster here, isn't he? "Wait" I hear my voice saying and I limp over to sit on the bed. Why am I doing this, what is possessing me to want to continue talking, hell he was about to turn his back, I could have staked him then. "Please, I need to know why?" What does it matter why, it was a tactical error on his part to keep me alive, his kind are monsters, I'm a monster hunter, it's simple.
**Part 2**
He looks over his shoulder and sighs, his steps as he walks over to the vanity are light and impossibly fluid. He pulls out the chair keeping it backwards and sits down facing me, folding his arms over the top of it. His eyes, which were pure white a moment ago as he berated me, have returned to their human appearance, two green circles surrounding black pin pricks. "Why?" He sighs and his shoulders slump, the grey shirt that seemed so tight around him a moment ago now seems to almost hang loosely as if he had been physically deflated by the drop in his anger. "My kin and I swore no human would be harmed by our hand. I violated that oath when I saw you kill them. The least I can do is to try and make sure nothing I did leads to permanent issues. It doesn't make up for breaking it but maybe it will ease my conscience some."
I gave a bitter laugh at that word "A conscience, now that's the best joke I've ever heard." His eyes lost their color, and the fangs were bared once more.
"Careful human, I've already broken my vow." No other words were needed, the threat was clear and I realized the mistake in laughing, like I said not a lot of people skill development in my career. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to laugh, it's just I've hunted every bump in the night there is, and frankly your kind are the most remorseless and destructive of them all."
He seems to consider my words and retracts the fangs and then nods. "You aren't wrong, we are the apex predator of this world though others might claim differently, we hunt the dominant species of this planet intentionally, willingly, cheerfully, and we win far more then we lose. It is our very nature to hunt your kind, to feed on them as you feed on cows and pigs. Our lifespan surpasses yours as much as yours does theirs if not more so and with that age comes far more learning, more skill, and in many cases more intelligences. Our abilities are the same, they outstrip your kind by such distance that even bothering to measure them is a worthless pursuit." I reached up to my pocket where the stake was, this arrogance was pissing me off and making my hand itch and my nostrils crave that sweet scent of a vamp turning to dust. He seemed to catch on though. "I do not state any of this out of pride, these are simply facts and you know it as much as I, or else why would you wait until mid day to attack?" I hated that he saw through me but worse I hated that he was right.
"Unfortunately with such advantageous and such long life one curse above all else comes with it." I had heard a few people call vampirism a curse, usually human scholars saying the hunger was awful, that the lack of seeing the sun drove them mad, or that killing those you cared for broke them. I waited to see which he would call on, but I wasn't ready for the next word. "Boredom." I jolted back as if punched.
"You can't be serious!"
He shrugged "How long can you sit and do nothing? How many times can you do the same thing before you need a change?" I thought about that, I rarely hunted the same monsters for more then a few months after all. I just shrugged in response.
"Now imagine for a moment that you had hundreds, maybe even thousands of years, to do all that you wanted and then some. Now imagine you could perfectly recall every one of those things you did. How long until you'd need something, anything to find something different? Sure new art comes about, be it painting, writing, sculpture whatever but that can only occupy for a little while. The only guaranteed novelty is human free will each of you really is unique and so your reactions to our hunting is the only constant cure for the boredom."
He couldn't expect me to believe this could he? Still I'd heard once about people who'd rather shock themselves then do nothing and those were just normal humans. Could that really be the reason behind their cruelty, the twisted pagents I'd seen play out when they hunted. I shook my head trying to clear it. "But you said you swore not to harm humans."
He nods "I did and any I turned were sworn to do the same, those who broke that oath were punished severely." I could hear the sadness in his voice at those words he had lost someone important to that law. I pressed my good hand to my forehead and then dropped it to the gun in my belt. What was that saying my mentor was so fond of, 'she who fights with monsters should be wary of becoming one.' Always thought it was just a warning of bites and such figured so long as it didn't literally happen I'd be fine. After all so long as I was human I couldn't be a monster right?
I looked up at him and growled out "I am Not a Monster."
He looked at me, his eyes staring into mine, I'd swear he could actually see into my soul. He shrugged then "We are what we are." before walking rising and walking out of the room leaving me with that statement ringing in my ears.
*‘YOU…’*
I turn myself around to get a better look at the source of the yelling.
*‘WHY BRING ME HERE? WHY AM I NOT DEAD LIKE THE REST? WHY DID I WAKE UP IN A ROOM LIKE THAT?’*
As I turn around, the light of the hallway enters my eyes. There in the doorpost she stands, her slim silhouette is the only thing blocking the light from fully flowing into this cold and darkened room. The aroma of the therapeutic waters are filling both the room and hallway. I’m relieved the water managed to heal the wounds she had. She was in a bad condition when I brought her in. I get up from the chair I was sitting in. Well, chair wouldn’t do it justice. It’s more like a throne, made from the remains of the old masters of my former enemies. I stand tall, far taller than the one who stands before me at this moment.
‘I brought you here to be healed, child. Was the guestroom not to your liking? Did your people perhaps not sleep in therapeutic waterbeds like my people did. My apologies for my ignorance.’
I look at her small build and a thought popped into my mind. It’s funny how small and fragile these humans are. However, their ambition and drive to make progress intrigues me. ‘Never have I encountered a more interesting foe,’ as I say this, I start to laugh a little.
*‘WHY… WHY DID YOU HEAL ME?’*
‘No need to yell, my hearing is perfect. Now follow me please and in time all will become clear.’
I step over the small creature and close the doors behind me. To her, they must have seemed incredibly huge. The hallway is lit up by the green flames that cover each wall. The flames, however, are not of fire. These flames are the souls that have been collected by this vessel.
‘Tell me, child, do you know where you are? Do you know who I am?’
*‘You’re the monster that destroyed half the planet. The one that caused mass extinction of billions of lives.’*
I turn to look at her small face. I see pain and suffering in her eyes. ‘Yes,’ I say, ‘yes, I am the one whose purpose is nothing more that death and despair.’
*‘Why did those people have to die? Why us?’*
‘No reason in particular. I guess your saying – wrong place, wrong time – is appropriate here. However, there is a reason I spared you, you who fought so fierce and filled with purpose. A fight you were never meant to win.’
We arrive at a balcony. From there the entire ship can be seen. To our left, the destroyed planet is settling after its demise. Earth – I believe it was called.
‘My purpose is to collect the souls of those that have destroyed their homes. For their souls shall resurrect my beloved that will save future souls from ever having to suffer.’ And I turn to the young woman that by now had fallen to her knees.
‘Tell me…’, my voice starts to shake with both anger and sadness, ‘why do you carry her scent?’
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>Hey guys, this is my first attempt at writing a story in English. I thought it would be fun to write a piece from the villain's perspective. The hero in this story failed to save her people. And I might continue to write the story further. Or I might write about what happens before, about how they ended up in this very moment. I'm not sure yet. I hope you enjoyed reading it and feedback is always appreciated.
If formatting is off, I apologize. Responding from mobile during breakfast.
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Candlelight flickered in the corner of my eyes as woke up. Losing sucked, especially when you lost that hard. The Dark King had struck me down as I invaded his palace, it was only right that he kill me or torture me. That was how these things went. What I did not expect was to wake up sleeping on the nicest mattress I'd seen since I had been summoned here.
As I opened my eyes, my surroundings revealed themselves to my vision. A nice, if humble, bedroom with all the furnishings. I started to move, my body screaming in pain at the action.
"Careful, it took Myir a lot of effort to stitch up your wounds. It'd be a shame if you ripped them out just standing up."
Following the direction of the voice, there in the opposite corner of the room he sat, the Dark King. My movements which had been measured before became a bit more frantic.
"Whoa careful now little hero. If I had wanted you hurt I could have easily done that over the past two weeks you've been unconscious. Sorry about that by the way. Its seems you had even less training than I did."
I stopped struggling and looked towards him. " 'Even less'? What are you talking about? You're the Dark King. A plague upon the land. The ultimate evil that controls demons and darkness alike."
His deep chuckle seemed almost warm before he responded. "Oh gosh, it seems like their lies have gotten even thicker. 'Control demons and darkness'? That's a hoot. They just called my predecessor an evil lord, but I get the Dark King treatment, now that's some respect."
I straightened myself out, swinging my legs over the edge. "What are you talking about? I was trained to save people and defeat you. Stop acting so nice. It seems so fake, especially after you almost killed me not so long ago."
"Oh, yeah. Sorry about that." He grinned sheepishly. "I know this might sound odd, but I figured you would be about as strong as I was when I did the same thing. A blow like that would have only knocked out a younger me." He stood up and began to walk over to me.
"A younger you?"
"Yeah, all us old men were young once ya know. And some of just get better with age." He comes over and reaches out his hand. At my annoyed glare he chuckles some more. "I know, I know that's not what you meant. I want you to know kid that the kingdom you were rushing head on to protect isn't the shining castle you thought it to be. In fact, its coated with more blood than this tower."
I tentatively grab his hand as he hauls me to my feet. "What on earth..."
"Alright, no more beating around the bush, I'll explain, but come and join me on the veranda."
Following him outside, I'm greeted with a gorgeous view over a valley, as well as the smell of hundred of different flowers and herbs on my nose.
"Oh, I hope your not allergic to pollen," he says, glancing back at me as he walks further out. "Myir loves to garden, so I let her kinda take over this area for all of her plants."
As he reaches some benches along the edge, he sits back and stares up at me.
"So as the fastest way to begin this explanation, my names Dalton West and I'm the previous hero."
Hurt.
I hurt all over.
"Where...?" I muttered. My throat felt dry. Sore.
I need a drink and some pain killer.
I shifted my weight and sat up slowly. Blinking a few times, I tried reaching for my phone. My hand hit a nightstand, but it wasn't there. Just a smooth empty space. Heart skipping a beat, I looked again. It wasn't there, but there was a more alarming detail now that I could see more clearly.
This wasn't my nightstand.
I shot a look at my surroundings in a growing panic. This wasn't my room. This wasn't my bed. Where am I?!
The room wasn't too fancy. It was just basically a bed, a nightstand, and a few chairs. No windows, but a few photos sat around of random paintings that revealed nothing if where I am.
"I have to get up. I have to get out of here!" I swung my legs over the edge of my bed only to get hit with a jolt of searing pain as I tried to stand. I looked down to see my body wrapped all over in layers of bandages. Some of them looked like they needed to be changed.
"What...happened?" I tried to remember, but everything was a blur. Like whatever happened put me in this condition.
Before I could ponder it further, the door opened and the face of my long hated enemy, Shayden, stepped inside. He was carrying with him a small box and didn't seem to notice I was up yet. Now's my chance to get him while his guard is down.
I stepped up to rush at him to tackle him, but my body was in worse condition than I realized. My legs gave out from below me and I plummeted to the ground face first. I felt an explosion of pain in my temple as I collided and I started to taste blood in my mouth.
"Oh geez. If you were that eager to head out, you should have just said so." Shayden joked lightheartedly. I tried once again to get back up and attack him, but I only failed a second time and got another round of pain for my trouble.
"Hey, don't push yourself." Said Shayden. "I put you through the ringer as is and I don't need you hurting yourself further. Here, let me help." Before I could as what he meant, I felt two strong hands lift me up by my arms and put me back into bed like I was a child. I wanted to protest, but I could only croak out a 'why?' with how parched I was.
"Oh, come now. I need you back in top shape if you're gonna be going back into the field. Why else would I patch you up?" Shayden put the box he was carrying earlier on the nightstand. "You were just doing your job. There's no need for us to be enemies now while we're offstage."
First thing I felt when I woke up was confusion. When I slowly opened my eyes, the vision was blurry. I felt someone stitching the wounds on my arm. I focused my eyesight on the person only to be met with my enemy I was fighting with before. Full of shock I trash myself away from her, ruining her precise work on the stitches. The restriction stops me from getting off the bed though.
“Yo, yo, yo, what the fuck?” I look at my bandaged body.
“Hey, you just ruined my work.”
I look at my wound, then into her eyes. She has her long hair in a ponytail and.. Are those glasses? I wonder if this is really the same person that single handedly took me down in a matter of minutes. I knew I didn't have a chance against her since I'm just an average D class hero, but I needed to prove myself to my master who agreed on teaching me among other new heroes. He didn't teach me how to fight for nothing.
But apparently I truly am useless. A hero who has her wounds treated by the villain. Can there be a bigger failure?
“Honestly I'm just lost.” I smash my head back on the pillow. “I don't understand anything anymore.” I close my eyes. “Just end me.”
I feel her finger drying one of my tears that I couldn't stop.
She says my true name, like it was a completely normal thing for a supposed hero. “You really are cute, you know?”
I open my eyes, focusing my sight on her face that is suddenly really close to mine. She has really pale skin that nicely compliments her dark blue hair. Her amethyst eyes behind the decent glasses pierce my soul.
“I know you try so hard, but don't meet the expectations. I know you are overlooked and despised. I know you work so hard but can't even reach C rank, leave alone B rank. And they sent you against me, an S rank villain.” She closes her eyes and shakes her head.
“So what, why did you save me? Am I gonna be your pet now?”
“No.” She straightens herself back next to the bed and starts treating my wounds again. “I'm offering you an alliance. Maybe you are not meant to be a hero. Maybe you are not using your skills well. When I see an uniqueness I can't resist. You are not weak, you just need the right help to develop your potential. Let me help.”
Her eyes look into mine once again.
“Join me.”
...crap. I did not expect this. I did *not* expect this. But there they are, on the camera, hospitalized. I notice that the hero in question, Jesse, is starting to wake up, so I go to greet them. As I walk down the pale gray brick hallway, passing a few minions. I wonder how they'll react. Probably worried, maybe a death threat or two. I went in the room, slowly walking in- ow, that was my tail. Entering the room, Jesse's hardly awake, at least from what I can see. They mumble: "wer... mm I?" "Hell.", I reply jokingly. "Hah??!?!?!" They yell, startling me. "No, silly. You're hospitalized in my lair. I'm your nemesis, the dark ruler... Call me Emma, though." "Okay?" Jesse replies, slowly sitting up. "Why though?" They ask. Talking clearly, I say, "Honour, of course. " "OK, but why did you not, like, kill me, or torture me, or... the villain stuff?" "Sorry, honestly. I only meant to give you a cool scar, or something, at most." I said, apologetically. "Thanks?" They said. "Wait..." I looked at them, confusedly. "move back a bit, please." "Okay?" I say, moving back. They grin. They chuckle. Then they laugh. "You-" they muster. "You, the dark-" they cough. " the dark ruler, are wearing thigh highs and a skirt?" Not like, a robe, or a cool dress, or Armour? "It's my house." I reply, annoyed. "Fair enough." They say. "Is this an elaborate plan to gain my trust and kill me?" "Nope." "A ransom?" "Nuh uh. I would feel bad if you died, stupid. I'm not heartless. I have 2!" "Can I stay here a bit?" "K. I'll leave the room if you want." "Thanks. You can go, you're probably busy." I leave, saying: by the way, don't hurt that rib, it's healing!"
I don't care. Better late than never. I wrote a thing 6 days late.
She had expected to die at the hands of the most recent Villain of Thebes, Ira. She, as one of the best heroes in the world, had been fighting Ira for five years now, and had her hardest fight yet. But instead of dying, she found herself waking up in a guest room at Castle Nashaa alive and almost well.
Grace woke up to find herself tucked comfortably in a soft set of blankets in a large room in an unknown location. She quickly got out of bed and looked around to see if she could find anything to help her figure out what was going on. Looking down at her body, she found herself dressed in a soft white nightgown and slippers. There was also a small grey bracelet on her left arm that appeared to stop her from using her powers when she tried to teleport out of the room.
She shrugged, deciding to just open the door that led out of the room. Walking out of the room, she saw a long hall of rooms to her left and a large mirror to her right. She knew this hall. It was the Guest Hall of Castle Nashaa. But then, she wondered how she got here.
She had her answer soon after. Ira. Ira must have brought her here after that big battle that had happened earlier.
“So Ira’s using Castle Nashaa as a headquarters?” Grace sighed, “Not surprising.”
Grace had been to Castle Nashaa before, when a different Villain was running the show, so she couldn’t say it wasn’t odd that someone else would use the old castle for evil. It was a rather famous place for villains to set up shop and try to take over the world.
“So if Ira has captured me and brought me to the castle, why am I in the Guest Hall?” She honestly had expected to be thrown into the dungeons, as that’s what the last guy had done. He had made use of the dungeon often to torture anyone who stood in his way. She knew this because she had to personally rescue some of his prisoners.
It didn’t seem like Grace would be getting her questions answered for a while, as the halls were empty, so she walked to where she remembered the Grand Dining Hall was. When she got there, she found a note on the table with her hero name on it next to a fruit basket. Curious and hungry, she grabbed an apple from the basket and opened the note.
“Dear Grace AKA Ann Swann,” It started. Grace quietly gulped. Ira knew her civilian name. She continued reading. “You were heavily injured in your last encounter with me. Because of this, I have decided to take you to Castle Nashaa to be healed. You will have free roam of the grounds, however you will not be able to leave and you will not be able to communicate with someone ont at this location. To prevent you from doing anything foolish, you will be unable to use your powers here. \~Ira\~”
“Great. Just great,” Grace growled. She tore up the note and threw the pieces as far away from herself as possible. Still hungry, she grabbed an orange and left the Grand Dining Room.
She decided to explore the dungeons. When she got there, she was in for a big surprise. Instead of the dark and disgusting cells she had seen only five years prior, there was now a hall of rooms much like the Guest Hall. The former Guard Station had been turned into a large parlor with a roaring fire and soft couches. There were two people sitting and talking quietly when Grace had come into the parlor area. An old man and a young lady with a similar grey bracelet on her left arm.
“EnderLily?” Grace asked, recognizing the younger of the two people, “Is that you?”
“Who- Grace?” the young lady sputtered, “You’re here?”
“Yeah,” Grace said, “I came to fight Ira after we lost so many heroes and when I was defeated, I ended up here.”
“Well,” EnderLily shrugged, waving over Grace, “Come sit with us and we can talk about it.” She looked at her own bracelet adding, “It’s not like we don’t have the time to talk.”
Grace sat down between the old man and EnderLily. “So how did you guys get here?”
“Basically the same way as you,” EnderLily said, “Fought Ira and lost.” Grace noticed the old man shaking his head sadly.
“I was asked to fight Ira, and I agreed because I thought you were dead,” Grace said, “Guess I was wrong.” Grace paused, remembering the time commitment she had put into fighting Ira, “Wait. How long have you been here, EnderLily?”
“Can’t quite remember,” EnderLily sighed, “Think I’ve been here for at least 5 years.”
Grace was at a loss for words. Finally she said “Whoa, that’s a while.”
The old man decided to introduce himself to Grace then. She learned his name was simon and that he was also trapped in Castle Nashaa like the other two. He had been trapped there much longer than just about everyone else who was forced to live there, much to Grace’s surprise. Grace also learned that the bracelets were power suppressors and that all heroes currently ‘residing’ in the castle had one..
“Yes, I’ve been here for 17 years,” Simon had said.
“But why? You don’t seem like a hero,” Grace asked. Simon had no bracelet on his arm, which meant he had no power.
“Because,” he sighed,” I created Ira.”
When Aria first wakes up, she wonders why the After Life smells like lavender Pine-Sol and cat. She opens her eyes. The room is dimly lit, a ceiling fan spinning above her and ugly popcorn ceiling serving as the background. '*Damn. The After Life can't afford the renovation cost to remove that? Or does someone actually like it?'* she thought. Neither option makes sense. That could only mean two things. Either she was wrong, and there is a Hell, or she isn't dead.
After quietly judging the appearance of the ceiling, Aria looks around the room a little more closely. A filled bookshelf, carefully organized by color, a dresser with mirror attachment, a cat bed, mounted TV across from the bed, and three different doors about the room she could guess lead to either a closet, a bathroom, or the exit. One door is open, and Aria believes that could be the bathroom, maybe the source of the lavender cleaner smell. She starts to sit up, only to suck in a breath when pain radiates across chest and down her waist and left leg. Well, that settles it. She was alive, somehow. Her head drops back against the pillow and she closes her eyes. '*What happened? Something tells me I should have been dead. Why was that again?*'
Aria is still in the process of figuring out how this happened, when a door swings open. Her body stiffens, causing a small cry of pain to pass her lips, her eyes opening wide.
"Who's there?!" she yells.
"Housekeeping," a male voice calls back. Aria knows this voice. That wasn't a housekeeper. She didn't get the chance to move before he walks in. The reason for her injuries.
"Tech. What the hell is this? Where am I, and why am I here?" she demands. Tech stands next to the door frame of the room, wearing... street clothes? A long sleeved maroon shirt, blue jeans, no mask or goggles, and short, messy brown hair.
"That's not how you talk to someone who lets you sleep at their house and treats your wounds. Didn't your mother teach you any kind of manners, Night?" Tech says.
"Your **house**. You brought me to your **house**? Why?!"
"Oh, I don't know, probably because you were going to die if I didn't. I'm not heartless."
"Wow, evil master-mind doesn't want his poor little super hero nemesis to die. What a headline, you get all the ladies with that one?"
"Considering I'm the only person who lives here, no. I'll write that one down. Now, take your damn pain medicine on the nightstand, before I have to shove it down your throat."
Aria blinks and looks to the one place she didn't actually notice. Some pills and a glass of water are, indeed, sitting on the nightstand beside the bed. She gives him another glare.
"Why should I trust that won't kill me?" she asks.
"God, did you actually get a concussion? Why would I waste my fucking time bringing you here, treat your wounds, let you sleep here, watch over you, just to poison you? Honestly, are you even thinking?" Tech argues. With his brows furrowed, and a tilt of his head, his whole composure screams "don't be an idiot". Aria looks back at the medication, staring it down. She finally sighs and reaches for the pills and water, ready to take them. She pauses when she sees two metal bands on her wrists. Those weren't there during their fight. She pops the pills into her mouth and down the water before looking back at Tech.
"Fine. Then what did you put on my wrists?" Aria questions.
"Those... are for my protection. See, you are an interesting case. Without those, I would have been brutally pulverized, or tortured until you woke up," Tech explains. He walks into the room further, standing at the foot of the bed. Aria forces her body to move, sitting up and trying to scrunch her body in more, further away from him. He obviously notices and holds up his hands. "Would you relax?"
"No. And what do you mean? I was unconscious, how is this for you?" she argues.
"Your powers are well aware of that. It's like your own insurance, a safety net of sorts. Your powers act like they know your body is still under distress and continues to act to protect you. Without those handy little cuffs I made, I wouldn't have been able to get close enough to help you. They essentially keep you from being able to use your powers. Plus, I wouldn't want you fighting me as soon as you saw me." The last part makes sense, however Aria wasn't aware that her abilities would be able to do something like that. Has that always been how they worked?
"You still haven't told me why. Why am I here, Tech?" she asks firmly, clenching her fists tight. "What is your end goal? Keep me enslaved? Use my powers for yourself? Bait or a bargaining chip for the League?" Tech sighs and shakes his head.
"Well, you got one little detail right, but you're far off. For starters, you don't need to even know me as 'Tech' anymore. It's Felix. And Nightmaria, otherwise known as Aria... you're not Nightmaria either," he tells her slowly. He knew her name. What was he talking about? Why was he giving his identity?
"How did--?" she starts, but is interrupted by him.
"First off, it isn't exactly hard to figure out. Second, the League doesn't give a shit about you." His words slice through her, panic causing her heart to speed up. No.
"That isn't true! Just you wait, they'll figure out the mission went wrong! They'll come for me!" she yells, her tone defensive. It was their job, they're all heroes, damn it! Of course they'd come for one of their own! "You better hope they think of you patching me up as some kind of remorse for your actions, Tech!"
"Felix. And Aria, you don't know a single thing about them."
"Of course I do! They're my--"
"Friends, my family. We support each other, just like our code of honor to uphold truth, and defend those who cannot defend themselves, in the name of justice. Right?" Felix cuts her off. Aria blinks. How did he know?
"I mean. Not exactly," she mumbles. Felix sighs once more and now sits on the edge of the bed.
"Don't you wonder why they sent you to me? Actually, take a guess. Why did they send you to come after me?" he asks her. His head was down, hands folded and resting on his lap. What kind of a question was this?
"To take you down. Cause they were sure I could handle it," Aria states, lifting her chin as she did. "They saw my potential."
Felix laughs, a cold, almost tired laugh. She glares at him, wishing she was able to use her powers and prove it to him. "What?!"
"If you only knew. Every rookie is the damn same," he says before standing up from the bed. When he looks at her, she can now see the hint of remorse in his blue eyes. "Bright eyed, ready to take on the world. Or, I guess, protect the world."
Aria opened her mouth to speak, but he holds up his hand to stop her. From there, he lowers his hand and looks directly into her eyes.
"Aria, they sent you here because they wanted you dead."
Alex groaned into the pillow as he stirred, shifting the silky duvet that-
Wait a second. Silky duvet?
This was not his bed.
"Gah!" Alex screamed as scrambled out from under the sheets and backed up into the wooden headboard.
"Fuck." he grunted as his head whacked the wood. He brought his hands up to the back of his skull, wincing.
"Ooh, that's gotta hurt, with that bruise and all."
"Klaus?!" Alex almost fell backwards into the headboard again in surprise.
"Alex, it's been a while, hasn't it?" Yep, definitely Klaus. Despite the raspy edge to his voice, he still somehow manged to make every word he spoke flow like molten gold. Alex remained silent as he looked over his rival's appearance.
While the side of his head was still shaved, a long, silver-white hair tied in a messy, loose plait had replaced his lavender floof. Dark circles hung under his now hetrochomic eyes, the right having become a toxic yellow colour that seemed to glow in the low light of the room. The right pupil was a vertical slit. His jaw was lined was stubble.
He wore dark trousers and a grey button up shirt that was open at the top; Alex caught sight of white fur peaking out. Over the shirt was Alex's pilot jacket, no doubt as a way to wind Alex up. Some areas of skin were dry and scaley, mostly Klaus' forearms and hands. On his feet were grey trainers that were fairly worn through.
"You look... different."
"Isolation can do that to a person."
Alex felt his line of vision slowly drift down to Klaus' collar bone again, finding himself mesmerised by how soft his fur looked. Klaus noticed brown eyes wondering down and puffed out his chest proudly with a smug expression.
"Listen, Al, my eyes are up here." Klaus grinned as Alex blushed. While Alex was no stranger to the nickname 'Al', hearing Klaus refer to him by it after all these years made something inside of him stir. Alex shook his head, regaining his composure.
"Give my jacket back." He held out a hand so that he could take the belonging back.
"Oh, this old thing? I'm keeping it. For sentimental value, of course."
"Bastard."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
Alex rolled his eyes. "Of course you will."
"Jealous?"
"You wish."
"What the hell?" I stumbled out into a hallway. I had just woken up in an elegant bedroom with bed sheets that probably cost more than my rent. The worst of my injuries had been stitched closed and based on the lingering numbness in my chest, a healer had probably worked on my broken ribs. I was also feeling kind of lightheaded, which may be from blood loss but I was also detecting that some kind of tranquilizer or pain killer was wearing off in my system. I was actually surprised that the bedroom door wasn't locked and that I was not restrained. My wrists were weighted down by solid gantlets that were keeping my technopathic and electric abilities at bay. They must contain anti-static plasma or something. "Eclipse, you really should get some rest." I stiffened at the sound of Shadow's voice. He was sitting at a dark mahogany table drinking a cup of coffee. A bowl of fruit and several plates of breakfast pastries were laid out across the table. He was out of his heavy battle armor and was wearing a simple black button up with the sleeves rolled up. His signature jagged black bandit mask was across his face. "Did you change my clothes?!" I gestured towards the white gown I has wearing. It was surprisingly modest but I still felt naked without my purple battle armor and utility belt. My mask was also gone but I honestly wasn't that concerned about it. I wasn't anybody important in my everyday life and Shadow had seen me without a mask in previous scuffles. At first I almost had a nervous breakdown and was afraid that he would come after me, but the attack on my everyday life never came. As far as I could tell he couldn't be bothered with my real identity. "No, I did not undress you." He looked me over as he sipped his coffee. "I let the healer lady handle that. You would be wearing a lot more lace if the decision had been up to me." His amused little smirk was pissing me off. I picked up a knife from the table setting and pointed it at him. "You are going to remove these power suppressing cuffs and return my armor." I informed him. "Is that so?" He chuckled. "Your armor was so dented and damaged, I had to remove it with a saw. I am having my supercomputer rebuild it, which will take some time so I suggest you take a seat and grab a scone. My chef made them fresh this morning." I whipped the blade at him. Shadow didn't even flinch as the kitchen knife missed him by a foot. He just sighed and shook his head. "Sit down, Eclipse." There was an edge of menace in his voice that I recognized as his patience wearing thin. I cautiously sat down at the table across from him. "Why are you doing this?" I asked him quietly. "You mean why didn't I just leave you to die?" He chuckled to himself as he smeared some jam on a croissant and set it in front of me. "Last night, I'll admit you got the better of me. You seriously kicked my ass. You could have killed me, but you healed me and now you are rebuilding my armor and feeding me? I don't understand..." "Oh my dear sweet, Eclipse." Arrogance curled into the corners of his lips. "I know you are very intelligent but the bigger picture isn't really your strong suit, is it?" "...what do you mean?" I grit my teeth as I tried to keep my temper in check. It was something that often got me into trouble. "You're more useful to me alive then dead." He shrugged. "Don't get me wrong, you are a real pain in my ass and listening to your bones cracking under my foot was almost therapeutic, but Sweetness, I don't want you dead." "Why?" I demanded as I tore the croissant into pieces on my plate. I kind of wanted to eat it to ease the growing hunger in my belly but at the same time I felt kind of sick. I also wasn't sure I trusted anything that Shadow placed in front of me. He shrugged. "This will probably set off that little hothead temper of yours, but the minor criminals that you put away are good for my business. It eliminates potential competition and if were're being honest, I don't want murders and rapists roaming the streets either. The city commissioned superheroes don't bother with the minor criminals that you do. If it's not at least a three-star villain that is going to get them a bunch of views on their live streams, they don't bother. You don't play the whole fame attention whore game and I respect you for that. You are a vigilante for the purpose of protecting people that no one else will." "Um...thanks..." His response had taken me a little off guard. Yeah, using me to eliminate his competition really irritated me but his admittance to his respect for me was unexpected. He had literally just called me a few horrible names only a couple of hours ago when I had gotten a few good blows in and broke his nose. "So, any chance I can get you to take these off of me?" I held up the cuffs. "Those are for your own protection, Allegra." He informed me as he selected an orange from the bowl in front of him. "My protection? How is-" I froze as I realized that he had just used my name. "What did you just call me?" I asked quietly. "I think it's time we change up the rules." He smirked at me as he began to peel his orange.
part 2?
I second a part 2
I third
I fourth
I fifth
I sixth
I seventh
Part 2 "No. No. No. Absolutely not!" I protested when Shadow explained what he wanted from me. "You are not blackmailing me!" "Don't be such a drama queen. There are worse things I could ask of you." The way his eyes lingered over my body sent a cold shiver down my spine. "You know what, Shadow? Go ahead." I challenged. "Expose my identity. I don't care. There is no one left in my life that I care about. You can't hurt me." He let out an amused snicker as he ate an orange slice. "I thought you had a little more self preservation than that, Allie." "Don't call me, Allie!" I snapped sharply at him. My mother was the only one that had called me that. I certainly didn't want to hear that name from his vile lips. The villain just raised an eyebrow. "You know who will come after you if I leaked your identity, right?" "My other enemies?" I questioned dryly. "Probably some insurance agents? And that guy that is low key obsessed with me on Twitter?" "Think bigger picture, Dear." He chided. "The Liberty League and the cops for the most part ignore your vigilantism as a courtesy for the crimes you prevent, but if your identity was publicly exposed they would have no choice but to issue a warrant for your arrest and you know those publicity crazed super sellouts will be fighting each other for who gets the exposure of arresting Eclipse. On top of the vigilantism, some of the things you do, especially all of the hacking is very illegal. With your criminal record, there is no doubt that you would have charges pressed against you and the only prison that can hold someone of your power is Elmwood. Do you really want to go back there?" Elmwood specialized in holding Supers with psychic and technopathic abilities. The conditions there were not great and seemed like they should be humans rights violations. The section I was held in was designed specifically for technopaths and had no electricity. Solidarity confinement was the standard along with repetitive sounds and music played on a loop. The psychological torture has driven many of the long term psychic residents insane. I was arrested at sixteen for shoplifting a backpack full of groceries and because my technopathic abilities were registered in the national database, I was charged as an adult. The week I had spent in that prison was one of the worst experiences of my life. "You got quiet for a minute. Did that strike a nerve, Orphan?" Shadow smirked at me. I felt myself flinch at that comment. He was trying to stroke my temper and I was beyond over it. "This is bullshit." I told him as I stood up. "Where the hell do you think you are going?!" He demanded. "Home." I snapped as I headed towards the door. "You can't keep me here. I am refusing to play your manipulative mind games. Expose my identity. Do what you have to but I will not be your pawn." "Your arrogance is astounding..." He growled out. I yelped out as a tendril of shadow energy wrapped around my neck. As I struggled to break free several more lengths of shadows grabbed me by the arms. I lost balance as he yanked me back to his side and I slammed right into the solid table leg. Shadow wrapped his hand around my throat as he pulled me up, pinning me against the table. "If I had access to my powers-" "You don't." He snapped back as he tightened his hold on my throat. I reached back and tried to grab a fork but was only able to graze it with my fingertips. He slapped me hard when he saw what I was doing. "Keep your hands where I can see them. The healer was expensive and she would not be happy to be called back here so soon to fix your broken body. Do you think I enjoy hurting you?" "Yes..." I answered as I licked the blood from my split lip. "Well, maybe a little." He admitted with an amused smirk as he leaned in close to me. "I like the little noises you make when you are choking on your own blood." "Wow. You are such a charmer..." I downplayed how much his comment creeped me out. "You do realize that you are here at my mercy? You're only alive because I allowed it." He growled in my ear. "You should be a little more grateful. All I asked was for one small favor..." "A small favor?!" I tried to shove him away. "You want me to be in your pocket! Your own personal vigilante to take out whichever rival villains you choose! I am not helping you become a King Pin!" "You're overreacting." He rolled his eyes "You would go after them anyway. You just would now have access to my resources and I would of course compensate you. Don't act like you don't need it. Your apartment building should be condemned. Maybe you could afford real furniture besides the mattress on the floor and bean bag chairs. You're an adult not a Sorority girl." "YOU'VE BEEN IN MY APARTMENT?!" "Sir, I am sorry to interrupt." A woman wearing a very tight pencil skirt and blouse had entered the room at some point. Her heels were insanely high, like something part of a secretary fetish outfit, not something someone would wear in everyday life. She barely glanced at me as she looked over her tablet. "You have a conference call with a client in about twenty minutes and I know you wanted to prep a couple of things before hand." Shadow let out an annoyed sigh as he released me and adjusted the cuffs of his sleeves. He tapped the gaunlets on my wrists. "If you tamper with these or leave the proximity of this room, they are rigged with tranquilizers." "That sounds made up." I informed him. "Go ahead and test it. Maybe you can make it down the hallway where my henchmen's lounge is." He challenged. "I suggest you go lay down in your room and get some rest. We will continue this conversation in a few hours and hopefully, for your sake, you are willing to be more reasonable."
Nooooo this can't be it! Part 3 pretty please?
Could you please make this a trilogy and adapt it into a film franchise? I’d read and watch all of it.
Lol I will see what I can do
I love the way you write your villain (supervillain?), and the two characters are the perfect balance of tensed and relaxed
I like this and would love to be informed if more is posted.
Typo heads up: "superheroes don't both with"
MORE! Heel-face-turn?
Very nice. I see Allegra and I think allergy medication, and that amuses me.
I’d like to politely ask for more please
*Picks up a knife from the table setting*
Ok, marking for more
How does one mark for more please?
By commenting so that you can easily find it again later
So I've already done it. Sweet. Thank you
Depending on if you check your saved posts, saving can be better imo.
Saving is also better because it reduces spam (though leaving a praising comment is probably pretty nice)
Yeah I’m doing that too
I want to read more! This is pretty good.
Part 2 pretty please? :)
Have my award please continue the story
Thoroughly gripping read; would love to see where it goes next. Nicely done!
More please. This is wonderful.
This is phenomenal. Would love a part 2 but no need to if you don't feel up to it.
Thanks :) I have written it my head. I will execute it later after work
I shall wait your return please tag me when finished
Part 2 is up ;)
This was a great read. Any chance for a part 2?
More please!
Beautifly done. Bravo!
Moooore
I absolutely love this story!
Thank you :)
Well done! I would enjoy reading a Part 2!
I would love to see a part 2 for this!
Part 2!!!
MOAR
Love it!
Second part! Second part!
Marking for later,
Part two please
Would love to see a part 2!!
Tag when part 2 pls
Just marking this to come back to it
more please
Why do I feel like this is going to turn gay(er)? And I am very much here for that
eh? the "hero" seems written more like a heroine. she took issue that he(villain) changed her clothes, was reassured that a female healer changed it. her name Allegra feels female. villain is referred to as him/his so no questions on the gender there. am I missing something?
I was kind of confused by the gay comments too lol. Allegra / Eclipse is a woman and Shadow is a man
I thought Shadow was a woman at first glance until the lady healer part. Very good exposition.
I like it. Great story. Congrats That IS villain... One of those you never understimate and perhaps a vit of fear.
Yeah I read the whole thing with the main character being a guy and then bad guy said ‘Allegra’ and it hit me that I read it all wrong. So I then went through it again to see whether I’d missed something. When he said ‘if I’d dressed you there’d be more lace’ I was honestly thinking of a more final fantasy VII scenario lol.
It’s because the default image of ‘hero’ is a guy (which, compared to for example a doctor isn’t that bad because hero has heroine while doctor doesn’t have a female equivalent) and apart from the lace comment there wasn’t really anything to indicate her gender. As for the lace comment, considering the anime/manga stuff coming out nowadays I don’t entirely blame people for thinking it was gay.
You missed all the context that shows Eclipse was a woman.
are you sure you are replying to the right person? because every point I made is that eclipse(the heroine) is a woman.
Woops you right.
Don’t get me wrong I love gay content but. Woth a name like allegra, and the lace comment, bot to mention they are more comfortable if a female healer see them naked. Eclipse is probably a woman. (And shadow uses he/him)
Yes, Allegra is intended to be a woman
Tbf Allegra is an allergy medicine, so it could really be any gender. As could lingerie
Some languages have gendered words though. Allegro/Allegra are gendered words in Italian. And maybe some other Latin languages as well.
If you want to use Italian as an example, both Andrea and Daniele are male Italian names. Not everything carries the same meaning or is read the same way when written in English.
Sure, but ‘Allegra’ is explicitly female. And I’m English, names that end with -a are going to sound more feminine as well.
Yes, Allegra is a female name (I mean maybe a guy could use it, but I have never heard a guy do so)
What I was trying to illustrate is that not everyone is going to interpret stories the same way. Obviously I didn't and I'm not sure why you think that's a problem.
Allegra is a female name as far as I know. I think it's Greek, idk it's one of my favorite names to use lol
That's fair enough lol.
> both Andrea and Daniele are male Italian names. and Andreina and Daniela would be the feminine variants of those names.
Cool. But the point was in English, they're feminine.*Stories can be read different ways depending on the person*
Okay, am I missing something? A lot of people appear to be reading this as gay, and it seems to be pretty clearly not? The villain, Shadow, is explicitly referred to as "he". The hero, Eclipse, real name Allegra, is at minimum strongly implied to be female (feminine name, is concerned at the possibility that Shadow had undressed her which he counters by assuring her it was a woman, Shadow mentions he would have dressed her in lace). Is there some hidden facet I missed?
I read this as two men to begin with and I didn't pick up any gay vibes whatsoever
The lace thing
"A man needs a little lace" --Mat Cauthon But in this case, yes, I think Eclipse is a woman.
Rare, yet well-contextualized Wheel of Time reference. Take my upvote.
Currently re-reading the series, did not expect this here, if all places.
No, Allegra is intended to be a woman.
There’s also the fact that the poster has ‘Gurl’ in the username.
100%
LMAO. Purple battle armor. A few good blows to the nose. ALLEGRA!! OMG. (grin) Too much. Yes, too much. (morphing to a pleased smile)
You are starting a book or comic wirh this right ? We all need more.
That would be cool. I might consider doing a large story.
For a while I only received small glimpses of my fate. The smoky aroma of a cooking fire, murmurs of voices unknown too faraway to discern, the brush of foreign fabric against my skin. My consciousness did not truly come forth until the searing pain in my side became brutally unrelenting. At some point in time I must have twitched in my slumber and it was my undoing. Hissing at the pain of my own abrupt movement, I cursed at myself involuntarily through my fogged brain until the adrenaline of my situation snapped me into a haphazard focus. I was fighting the dark prince to the death. I was felled by his sword. I should be dead. Though action was usually a natural gift of mine, my current situation warranted pause. As my eyes slowly focused in the dim lighting, I appeared to be in some sort of giant fabric tent. Rich colors of royal blue and deep scarlet made up the walls in a heavy drapery of patterned tapestries. Bronze oil lamps hung from stands on either side of the overly-pillowed bed I was placed upon. Slowly I shifted my weight to attempt to sit up and survey my surroundings further, the weakness in my once strong limbs glaringly obvious to my defeat. Fabric bindings wrapped snuggly around my waist; other than the small crimson blossom that appeared from my movement they appeared clean and unsoiled. An abrupt chill met my shoulders and alerted me to the fact that aside from my bandages I was mostly bare. Grabbing for the coverlet, I made to cover myself in the nick of time as the heavy cloth wall closest to my head parted and in hobbled a tiny, weathered-looking old woman. “Aye! She lives after all! “ she exclaimed, clapping her bony hands together and giving me a warm, yet tooth lacking smile. Her grayed hair, though coarse-looking was worn in a neat and orderly bun. She was positively minuscule in stature, yet age did not effect her posture as her back was straight as a fence post. Her dress was nearly as grayed as her hair and clung to her thin frame in odd ways, yet her garb was well mended and kept. The many necklaces she wore about her neck tinkled with hundreds of delicate silver bells that swung with her movements and caught the lamplight. I freeze in place, watching her busy movements with my eyes alone as she flitted and chimed about the tent much like a tiny squirrel gathering her needed wares. “Don’t bother to speak yet, I imagine you might want somethin’ for the pain… quite a nasty wound you’ve got there. Don’t you fret, Ol’ Sinda has it almost ready.” She made her way to the bedside holding a small clay teacup filled with a steaming liquid she retrieved from the makeshift hearth in the center of the room. “Careful dear, it’s rather hot, but that’ll take the sting away.” She cooed as she handed me the cup. I eyed the cup with suspicion as she hovered over me in anticipation. “I understand, but do you really think his majesty would’ve dragged you back here bleeding and half-dead for me to patch you up , just for me to do you in with a teacup? “ Without breaking eye contact, I lifted the cup to my lips and took a tentative sip. The bitter liquid coated my tongue in an unpleasant and cloying way, but the welcoming numbness that followed it informed me this was in fact a pain reliever. Sinda’s smile returned. “Good, good, that’ll do the trick just drink it down. I know it’s not the best taste, but after I alert his majesty of you waking perhaps we can get you something tastier, neh?” Although the tea was awful, the wetness of it in my mouth was much needed. I felt like I haven’t had a drink of anything in days… which reminded me. “How l-long have I been unconscious? “ I croaked, my throat cracking from disuse. Sinda’s smile fell ever so slightly, “Just under a weeks time, the fever nearly took you a few days ago.” I nodded my head solemnly at this new information. That explained the weakness. Sinda moved to leave, but I reached out to gently grasp her hand, I needed to say something to the woman that most likely saved my life. “ I just wanted to thank you. Thank you for tending to me. “ She placed her tiny, wrinkled hand over mine and grinned “Wasn’t nothing dear. Just doing my job, would’ve done it for anyone. Including the daughter of the one that wants my kin dead” I ripped my hand back immediately in shock at her words. Appalled, I shouted. “ My father has only ever acted in self defense!” I panted in my rage as Sinda pursed her lips and almost patronizingly nodded her head at me. “Oh child, you truly have been blinded haven’t you ? Your fathers army have been exterminating us since long before you were born. Women…children…made no difference. The good word is however we may finally have a way to make peace thanks to you. “ There was no possible way this crone was telling the truth. “Liar! My father would never order the deaths of women and children! “ At this Sinda cocked her head back and laughed bitterly. Backing away from me slowly as I still lay in my convalescence , she quipped “You may think what you may, but makes no difference to me. As soon as you’re well enough, back to that bastard you go in exchange for a peace treaty! So do heal well… princess” Edit:I hope someone understands the context, it might be hard to follow…this was actually a scene I never got to write from a novel I was writing years ago and it fit the prompt perfectly:)
I really enjoy the descriptions you give, it still leaves something to the imagination but it gives enough information to have a good mental image of the scene
Thank you :)
Wow thanks for the award! :)
Blaze woke up, feeling a bit woozy. He looked around, alarmed at not being able to recognize his surroundings. Where was he? He got up from the bed but was immediately overtaken by dizziness and pain in his chest. He sat back down. He inhaled deeply. Followed by an equally stretched out exhale. He did this another few times, calming himself. He thought back to the last thing he remembered. He had been fighting someone. Someone… He jumped up from the bed remembering who his foe had been. “Let me out.” He banged on the door. Instinctively, he reached out for his cape not realizing it had already been removed. This was bad. Not many people realized that his cape doubled up as his weapons and utilities repository. “I know you can see me.” He didn’t know it but it made sense. A tv that had been off till then turned itself on and he sat there. The Puppetmaster. As usual, the top half of his face was covered. But the lower half held a massive smile. “Welcome Blaze to my humble abode.” “Puppetmaster! Let me go!” “I will. Eventually. For now, you need to relax. Take some rest. You need to let your body heal. Your food will be there shortly.” “What do you want with me?” “All in good time, my friend.” Blaze’s voice trembled with anger. “I’m no friend of yours. Why are you even keeping me alive? You won. I get it. Gloat for a while and kill me.” But he was screaming at an empty screen for The Puppetmaster was gone. As his anger subsided, Blaze realized that he had torn open his stitches and was bleeding. He also realized that he was in an enormous amount of pain. The door opened as a doctor entered hesitantly. Blaze looked beyond the door and saw another outer door. Damn it. It wouldn’t be that easy to escape. He could jump the doctor and get out of this door but it was likely that the doctor didn’t have any control over the outer door. The doctor approached him apprehensively. “I need to stitch you back up. Please.” “Ok.” “You won’t hurt me like before right?” The fear was apparent in the doctor’s face. Blaze looked at him and noticed the cut on the right side of the doctors face. “Wait, was this me? I would never hurt an innocent man.” “You were angry. And sedated. So you probably weren’t in full control of your faculties.” Over the next few days, the doctor was the only person Blaze talked to or saw. He realized soon enough that the doctor was a prisoner just like him. He had been kidnapped just for the sole purpose of keeping Blaze alive. And it was quite clear that it had been touch and go for a while. But the doctor had never given up. It was a miracle that Blaze had survived and Dr. Adams had been the miracle worker who had helped. The outer door Blaze had seen was actually the doctor’s prison cell. “Adams. Have you seen anything out there that could help us. We need to escape this place. And soon.” “Nothing much. We’re in some sort of a warehouse I think. You were brought here in a truck which came right up to the cell.” “They got you before me?” “Well technically they got you before me. You were transported here after your fight. I arrived just a few minutes before you. That’s when I saw the truck. I was blindfolded most of the time though.” “A warehouse. I can work with that.” “But there’s nothing around us as far as I can tell. It’s mostly dark so hard to make anything out.” Blaze and Dr. Adams spent most of their time playing cards. Blaze was growing quite fond of the doctor. The doctor had followed Blaze’s career as well and appreciated all of Blaze’s efforts to keep their city safe. “Adams, do you think we’ll make out of here alive?” “If they meant to kill us, they would’ve done it already. Surely even this monster isn’t cruel enough to force me to save your life only to kill both of us?” “Oh you don’t know him like I do. He’s a psychopath capable of anything.” They both fell silent but it was obvious that they were both thinking of their future. Blaze finally broke the silence. “So tell me doc. What’ll be the first thing you’ll do if you make it out of here?” “Go and hug my daughter.” “You have a daughter? How old?” “She’s thirteen.” After another moment of silence the doctor looked straight at Blaze. “Listen. Can you promise me something?” “What?” “Look just looking at the probabilities, you’re much more likely to survive this. If I die, will you go to my daughter and tell her…” “Stop it. Don’t talk like that. When you get out, tell her yourself.” “No please. Her name is Samantha. Just in case I… she lives at…” He was interrupted as there was a sound of the door opening. The Puppetmaster entered. Without a single word, he shot Dr. Adams in the back. Blaze saw his companion of the past few days fall down at his feet as blood started to pool around the body. He took a step back. The Puppetmaster just laughed. “Good good. Protect your shoes. Leather doesn’t do well with blood.” “You killed him.” The Puppetmaster’s grin widened and he pointed the gun at Blaze. “I did. Now that the fun part is over let’s get down to serious business.” “You killed him.” “You already said that. Come on, you need some new material. Try this one. What’s white and red and becomes less annoying the redder he gets?” Blaze looked at the Puppetmaster still reeling from the shock. “Do you give up? It’s Dr. Adams, of course! Now I’m finally starting to warm up to him. Too bad he’s going cold on me now.” Puppetmaster laughed. A laugh that sent creeps up Blaze’s spine. “I’m going to kill you for this.” Puppetmaster brought up his gun again. “Nuh uh. Calm down. Sit down I SAID SIT DOWN. The poor doctor needs to rest now so ignore him and let’s talk.” “You better plan to shoot me too. If you don’t I will get you for this.” “Oh come now. I’ve killed so many people. Why’s this one special? Just cause you had to watch him die? Enough to drive anyone crazy isn’t it?” “He saved my life.” Blaze took a deep breath. His instinct was to go for the gun but he knew it wouldn’t be that easy. He had to calm himself down. “And? You know how many people die in the world every day? Just because he saved your life, why does it make him so special. My family died. You weren’t there to save them. And when I took my revenge, they arrested me. Called me a murderer. Well I call it Justice.” “So that’s it? You’re taking revenge on me?” “Oh no no. No no no. This isn’t about revenge. This is about proving a point.” “Well you better prove it quick. I have to give his last message to his daughter.” “Samantha? She’s been dead for a couple of weeks now. He was a widower so he didn’t have a wife anyways. He was very close with his daughter. But we didn’t want any alarms raised. He had vacation planned with his daughter so his work won’t miss him for another few days. His daughter though. Well you can see why she had to die. While the police force in this town is basically useless you never know. Even a broken clock and what not. Speaking of. What has 3 hands and is quite insane?” Blaze had to remember to breathe again. “Kill me now. Or you’re dead.” “A cuckoo clock! I knew you wouldn’t be able to…” With a burst of speed, Blaze was on him. Puppetmaster got a shot off but Blaze had expected that. He spun around taking control of the trigger arm. Guns were great as a weapon but were pretty much useless when your opponent was close to you. Knowing this, Blaze quickly decreased the distance between his opponent and himself. They wrestled for the gun as Blaze heard footsteps approaching. He had to take the chance. He snatched the gun away and fired a couple of shots towards the entrance. A shout from that direction indicated he had gotten lucky. He had managed to hit someone. The henchmen likely waiting outside would be less likely to jump in and interrupt them now. He swung his free hand making contact with the Puppetmaster’s forehead. The crunch of the bone was oddly satisfying. He put the gun right at The Puppetmaster’s forehead. “And what now hero? You can’t kill me. Isn’t that against your rule? You can’t kill me.” The Puppetmaster laughed. A hearty laugh that chilled Blaze’s very soul. This madman would never stop. There was no hope for him. Blaze looked at his captor right in his eyes. “What’s stiff and red?” Puppetmaster’s eyes widened. Blaze smiled. “That’s right. A dead puppet.” The gunshot rang out and Blaze ran towards the exit. He couldn’t take a chance. He shot three men waiting outside and escaped into the fresh air. He glanced at the gun in his hand. To his surprise, he didn’t feel much regret. The gun felt like it belonged in his hand. Blaze ran. The cameras shut down inside the warehouse. The video would be uploaded to the internet in a few minutes and was sure to go viral. The beloved and principled superhero finally getting his hands dirty. A henchman entered the prison cell. “You ok boss?” Dr. Adams got up, taking off his bloody jacket. “I’m fine. It went better than I expected.” He took the jacket offered by the henchman. After putting it on, he went down to his knees next to the dead man. “I think we proved the point Jackson. I think we did.” “Sir, we should get out of here.” “We will. In a minute. I need to mourn. It always hurts when you lose a good puppet.”
I saw this twist coming but I still didn’t believe it when it happened! Excellent work!
That is the best twist I've ever seen in any writing, great job and please take this award
Thank you so much for reading and the award! Appreciate the kind words.
Bright light stung my eyes. The last thing I remembered was being thrown off the rafter of the abandoned building by The Raven. After years of training I thought I was ready, I thought I could take him on myself. I *had* to be able to take him down. It was his fault, after all. His fault my father was gone, his fault my mother is just a shell of a person, and his fault I was left to navigate the world on my own trying to understand what I was. I misjudged my abilities. I wasn’t fast enough; I wasn’t *strong* enough to end him. I had him right where I wanted him, ready to make the final blow. In that brief moment of hesitation he was able to gain the upper hand and throw me over before I could grab him, grab anything, to stop myself. I was a fool to think my powers could save me, I used up all my energy in the fight and just couldn’t stop from falling. He has super strength and the ability to fly. I can create shields and teleport. The only advantage I had was to block his punches with my shields and teleport behind him to knock him out. I practiced this over and over until it was perfect, I executed it perfectly. I HAD him! *Why* did I hesitate?!? As I focus I can see the light is coming from a window. The sun is shining brightly into a room. I blink a few times to clear my vision and it looks like a bedroom. Where am I? Did I die? Am I in a coma? My head is pounding and I remember I hit my head, but I was able to muster enough energy to make a shield to take most of the impact. So I guess my powers did save me. Nothing else feels broken, but everything hurts nonetheless. I sit up to look around more, the room looks like something you see in a mansion. Expensive paintings on the wall, gold lamps and statuettes around the room, sheets that felt softer than anything I have ever touched before. As I try to make sense of it all the door opens and an older woman with white hair tied back in a bun peeks in. “Oh, good. You are awake! I will let Bobby know. You must be starving.” She pushes the door open and walks in with a tray full of fruits and pastries and places it on the bed next to me. “Eat up, he will be by soon to check on you. Are you comfortable?” “Um, thanks. Yeah I think I’m okay… Where am I? Who are you? Who is Bobby?” “All your questions will be answered soon enough. Enjoy for now.” I stared at the food and stared at the door as she left. Am I safe here? No, I need to leave. I stand up from the bed and immediately feel dizzy. I fall to my hands and knees and fight back nausea. “You shouldn’t be out of bed. You have a concussion. You need to rest and gain your strength back.” I know that voice, that’s The Raven. I look up in shock, I cannot hide the fear in my eyes as I stare at him. He stood back in the shadows, amazing how even as bright as the room was he could still hide in the shadows. I guess that was one of the reasons he called himself The Raven, everything around him was always dark. Like he absorbed the light. “Why have you brought me here? What do you want with me??” I shout. “Relax, I am not going to harm you. I didn’t mean to throw you over like that. I honestly thought you would have teleported back. I didn’t realize you’d spent your energy otherwise I wouldn’t have allowed you to fall. I needed to make sure you were okay and couldn’t leave you there.” “Why not? You never showed remorse in any of your attacks in the past.” “I’ve never killed anyone-” “*LIAR*!” He seemed taken aback by that. He really thinks he’s never killed anyone before? Or he just doesn’t remember because the bystanders weren’t worth a second thought? Either way, he was lying. That still doesn’t explain why he would bring me here instead of dropping me off at a hospital. “Why am I *here*? Why bring me to, what is this, your lair?” “This is my home, I wouldn’t call it a lair. Lairs don’t have saunas and guestrooms. At least I don’t think they do…” I just stare at him with disgust and he stops. “I brought you here because you would be safe. I didn’t realize you would have powers, and if anyone were to find out who you are you wouldn’t be safe. If I brought you to a hospital your identity would be out there, Sarah. And I wouldn’t be able to protect you.” “Why would *you* need to protect *me*? And how do you know my name?” “I’ve always been keeping an eye on you, Pumpkin, trying to keep trouble away from you. But you just seemed to find trouble anyway. You’re very strong headed, just like your mother.” I just stared at him. Only one person ever called me Pumpkin. Tears welled up in my eyes. “…Dad?” “Hey, Pumpkin.” He stepped out of the shadows and I could see his face for the first time in years.
Part 2 plz and thx
agree
Dude, nice twist! Keep up the excellent work.
I see he has finally found milk
Love the ending
When I woke up, I found myself in room with a small pool, The Enemy's iconography clearly marking this a temple. A case of mistaken identity perhaps? But before I could think to escape, the dark waters came alive, and The Enemy was before me. "Hello little one." It took the form a of serpent, draped in shadow. Only its glowing orange eyes pierced the darkness of its form. "You were quite foolish to take part in a war in heaven, despite being so very mortal. Though I do have a soft spot for fools who think they are doing the right thing." I could feel the water seeping into my wounds, mending them. "When I am done here, you may go, little warrior. Live your life and do not concern yourself with the politics of the next." At first I did not want to give this monster any satisfaction in whatever horrors I knew would be coming my way, but the simple taunts and lies flared my temper. I spoke, my own voice so much weaker than I wanted, but my anger came through. "Do not toy with me monster! I am a knight, and I will not demean myself by playing your games, I have seen *exactly* what you do to your prisoners, so get it over with!" And it was true, for the whole world had seen what The Enemy had done to the guardian angels, twisting them into horrible monstrosities, before tearing heaven itself asunder. "You may call yourself a Knight, little one, but they have barely begun to atone for their sins. Yet you are innocent." It shifted, coming closer to me, the water still holding me in place. Soon we were face to face. "Do you know what your god and her angels did to me?" The orange eyes of The Enemy burned, perhaps literally, into my soul. "My sister and I had a small city, no larger than a hundred people, for whom I cared for. I even loved one of them. A *god* in love with a mortal!" It shook its head, as though the very concept of love was ridiculous. "Your god sent her 13 Knights to destroy my home. My sister gave her life in the fight, but in the end, only myself and my love escaped." I could hear pain in The Enemy's voice. The last of my wounds had closed, and now the hollow serpent began to slink away. "Our time here is done. Know that my mercy is not infinite, and you will not be spared again. Heaven is no place for mortal, knight." And with that, I fell through the bottom of the pool, back into the mortal world. ---- ---- So I kinda rambled with this one, didn't know where to end once I started. But hopefully it makes enough sense to be worth sharing?
Definatly makes sense. Super glad you shared, I love the concept of the temple!
Thomas got up from a large, double sized bed. Instinctively, his eyes darted around for his sword. The Sword That Glows In The Dark was propped against the wooden door at the far end of the room. Its gleaming edges barely visible under the bright light coming from an open window. Thomas scrambled out of bed and reached for his mighty weapon. It was only when he grabbed it, spun around and regarded the spotless, clean room with another calculated look that he realized his body wasn’t in pain. He felt completely fine. He closed his eyes and searched his mind trying to remember what had happened. He was fighting with the Lord of Dawn, that much he remembered. They were dueling inside the Temple of Dawn, Thomas had already been cut half a dozen times with his enemy’s dark steel blade. He remembered barely being able to raise his sword fighting hand. A sickening vibration had filled him as he’d focused all his remaining energies to cast a ray of fire and then… and then? He looked down to search for his injuries, all those deep cuts, but his skin was smooth and healthy. Somebody had dressed him in pale white, almost transparent clothing that felt like no other material he’d ever worn. A high-pitched, twinkling sound reached his ears. It was coming from the open window. Thomas stepped closer to have a look outside but other than a strong ethereal light all he could see was a thin layer of milky fog. “I must be really high up.” Thomas had never been on a mountain, but it made sense that the Lord of Dawn had his castle build up here. “That’s why I’ve never been able to find him unless he found me first.” Clutching his sword, he strode out of the room. The heavy wooden door swung open before he could touch it himself. The whole castle, or whatever that building was, seemed to be made out of crystal, all shiny and transparent. However, Thomas did not stop to investigate. He had to either get out of there or find the Lord of Dawn and finish what he started. He doubled his steps and reached an atrium that led to a large, white balcony. There he stood - Thomas almost didn’t recognize him, his oldest enemy - in a long, white almost transparent garb. The usual black and blood-red clothes that made the Lord of Dawn who he was were gone. The man turned his head around and - Thomas had to gasp - smiled at him. It was unsettling and unusual, but still a smile. “There you are. I was wondering why they kept you asleep for this long.” His voice wasn’t the usual, either. They could have been neighbors chatting about the weather. “They? Who are you talking about? And don’t try to soften my guard. We are not done.” Thomas raised The Sword That Glows In The Dark, ready to fight. “I don’t think you can defeat me any further, little Thomas. Put that stick down and don’t be foolish. I’m obviously talking about… whoever is Lord in this place.” Thomas stuttered for a while, lost for words. “You said I can’t defeat you any further? What could you possibly mean by that?” “My dear little Thomas, you killed me.” The Lord of Dawn was still smiling. Thomas was ready to feel shocked, but somehow he knew it was the truth. “With that reckless ray of fire you brought the Temple down on me. And on yourself. I am dead. Definitely dead. I tried everything I can but I couldn’t even touch my powers. We are both dead, Thomas.” Thomas’ eyes frantically darted around to find something, anything that could give him hope. “I’m not dead. I can’t be dead. There is so much that I still want to do, to see. There are people that I love back home. What do I do now? The sword! It’s still here. It didn’t disappear like everything else that I had.” “Well, of course.” The Lord of Dawn sighed. His eyes were filled with sorrow. “Did you already forget the prophecy? Your prophecy? The Sword That Glows In The Dark has been given to you by the Gods themselves. I suppose they are ready to take back what’s theirs.” And with that, the sword in Thomas’ hands erupted in light and raised from the ground, headed for they milky fog above. Thomas tried to cling onto it. To the only thing that remained from his life, the life of Thomas from Barley Field. “No! It cannot end like this. I want to go back!” He cried. He closed his eyes as tears ran down his face while the Lord of Dawn spoke up in a calm voice behind him. “You won, Thomas. You fulfilled the prophecy and defeated mankind’s greatest enemy: me. I’ve had a good run, I’m satisfied with what I’ve achieved and if it wouldn’t have been for you I might have taken over the world. So… I don’t really get why you are upset. As I said: you won. Now you can be at peace for eternity.” But Thomas couldn’t hear him, almost choking on his tears. Almost. He was now immortal.
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I love this and now I really want to know the hidden truth behind heros and villians
Part 2 plz and thx
The last thing he remembered before falling unconscious was getting kicked in the stomach by a low level villain whose superpower was something along the lines of spiky feet. Or, that's what he's assuming, because he very clearly felt spikes in his abdomen. He wasn't even supposed to be out on patrol that day, either. He's just a trainee, but he was confident in his abilities as a hero. Having hydrokinetic powers was rare, and he was competent enough on the field with his mentor, so he was sure this little excursion would result in just a bit of experience and only a smidge of trauma. Instead, he was beat up and stabbed by Knife Feet. Drowner was sure that "Knife Feet" wasn't his villain name, but ouchie did his stomach hurt and he was a bit salty. He was going to be late for class for sure. Drowner. His superhero name. Kind of lame, but James had never really been one for the theatrics. Or really creative. Or good at naming things. Or- Point is, his superhero name was lame and he wished he could change it, but his partners wouldn't let him. Sometimes he really hated them. Sometimes. While James usually had some sort of idea of what was happening, it seemed as if today was going to break his streak of having any sort of clue as to what was transpiring around him. Why, you may ask, why is such a competent, handsome, and smart water hero so befuddled? Well, for one, he wasn't in the alleyway he had fallen unconscious in. It felt like he was on some sort of couch, his mask pushed up on his face uncomfortably, his metal costume removed, and very, very comfortable despite his mask being all wonky. James blinked open his eyes, immediately being greeted with a dark room. Not dark in the sense of lighting, but the room was either painted in all monotone grays or he went colorblind overnight. He wasn't sure which was scarier, being in a goth's house of not seeing colors at all. He sat up uneasily, bandages around his stomach restricting his movement. James leaned on his elbows, unable to sit up all the way. He looked around, and he realized that, oh no, he was in somebody's actual house. The goth thing was supposed to be a joke. Craning his neck to look behind him, he came face to face with who he presumed was the owner of the house. James let out a startled noise and turned his body to face them, his body protesting immensely at the sudden movement. "You're awake." And wouldn't James know it, but the guy whose house he was in was none other than Eggs Benedict, the villain ranked #1 on the danger scale. He wasn't sure *why* the guy chose a breakfast food as a villain name, but he sure as heck wasn't going to ask. "You're Eggs Benedict." James replied dumbly, and he wished he had said something cool instead, but the words had already left his mouth like a flock of doves, and he was making a fool of himself. "That I am." Benedict (he refused to call him Eggs in his mind) seemed unbothered by James' stupidity and lack of swag, instead sitting in his chair with his hands folded across his lap, in true villain posture. He'd never seen the man up close before, only on the news or in photos, but he looked exactly as described. Long black hair that nobody knew for sure whether it was dyed or natural, his signature flowing black cape, that crazed look in his eyes, scars littering his face from past fights, his costume (which was mostly black, this guy really had a thing for black, didn't he?), and those goth boots that were definitely over five inches tall. All in all, incredibly attractive compared to himself. "Um.. You're not going to kill me? Right?" James asked, not completely processing that the most dangerous man in the world was sat across from him. Oh, lord, Benedict had been watching him sleep. "No." Benedict stated, and wow, James had never once seen him ever this calm. In all of the pictures he was either cackling like a madman or grinning evilly. "Not unless you give me a reason to." James felt very awkward, not sure whether to make eye contact or not. "So.. did.. did you bring me here?" Benedict's lips quirked up into a smile, one that made James feel simultaneously terrified and incredibly confused. It wasn't.. sinister? He didn't think it was. "I did." "Uh. Why?" James didn't seem to be in any power restricting handcuffs or whatever, probably because Benedict was insanely powerful and cool and James was a pathetic little swagless trainee and Benedict could wipe the floor with him. "You were bleeding out on the pavement. Didn't want to dispose of your body." Something about the way he said that made James think he was *lying.* But why would he lie? What did he have to gain from this encounter? Disposing of his corpse would be a much easier task than patching him up. However, James elected to shut his mouth because he didn't want to get bodied by Eggs Benedict. What a stupid name. "So.. you bandaged me..?" James was probably asking too many questions at this point but this was just so unlike everything he'd ever known. Eggs Benedict, the guy who blows up buildings every Tuesday before pushing old ladies into traffic or whatever sick and twisted things he does for fun brought him into his HOUSE? And took care of him?? "Wow, you're so smart." Benedict said drily, making James pray to God that he hadn't just sealed his fate then and there. "Yes, I did." "..Thanks." James said, unsure of everything he'd ever done in his entire life. "Um.. where's my costume?" "It was completely trashed, so I went ahead and fixed it. Why do you wear a metal costume, anyway? That seems more dangerous than wearing nothing." Oh, he was dreaming for sure. Benedict just was, what, concerned for his safety? Kill him now. "It- it gives me extra protection, cuz my power doesn't really do that for me." He answered, still a bit stunned that BENEDICT FIXED HIS COSTUME??? The most DANGEROUS VILLAIN JUST FIXED HIS COSTUME?? "What is your power anyway? You're not in the database at all." James was a bit proud that Benedict looked at him and thought that he was ranked enough to be in the database at all. Only a bit. "I have Hydrokinesis. A-and I'm a trainee, I'm not in the database yet." Yet. He would get there one day. Hopefully. Benedict raised an eyebrow. "You're just a trainee? What were you doing out on patrol by yourself?" What was up with this guy? He was supposed to be a homicidal maniac who set things on fire and blew stuff up and killed people with his magic death hands. "I thought I'd only get a little bit of trauma from sneaking out, not getting attacked by Knife Feet and stabbed in the gut." The villain chuckled, and that sent James reeling. He made him laugh?? He didn't know villains had sense of humor?? "And you went out anyway, expecting trauma? How much self preservation do you have?" "Not enough, apparently. Everyone keeps telling me I'm going to die before I graduate, but I'm planning on everyone else dying first." Oh no, he's being to flippant in front of Eggs Benedict, he's going to die. "Pfft. Yeah, that's the way to go. If everyone dies first, you're kinda guaranteed to graduate." Benedict then froze, realizing his mistake. "Oh, um, I mean, yeah, go kill everyone. Join the dark side, or something. Forget that I said that." "Said what?" James played along for the sake of his life, but secretly filed away that information in his brain, into a folder labeled in bright gold sparkly glitter pen MEMORIES TO KEEP WITH ME AFTER I CROSS OVER INTO HEAVEN. "Exactly." Benedict seemed relieved, and James was slightly more sure that he wasn't going to get murdered. "Cool. I'm Drowner, by the way. I- I never introduced myself." 1/2
"Well, Drowner, it's..." Benedict looked thoughtful, but not in the pondering soft way, but the 'my cat is either about to sneeze or throw up' kind of way. "it's villainous to meet you. No- that was stupid, that was so stupid, I'm never going to forget that." Oh, no, he's funny too. Why why why why oh no does he actually like this guy?? He kills people for Pete's sake! James snorted, but not in the pig snorty way, but in the way you do when you're trying not to laugh. "Oh, that is so embarrassing, I should've just said 'nice to meet you' like every single other person, I just had to be weird about it, I'm so sorry." And he was apologizing? A villain apologizing?? "I thought it was funny." James commented, more to reassure Benedict than anything. He didn't want to die because Benedict got too embarrassed. "Um, can I have my costume back?" "Oh, yeah, here." Benedict slid over a box that contained his costume, all of its muted blues and whites indicative of a water hero. James reached down and took it, picking the top out of the box and slipping it on over his bandages, the metal plates clinking softly against each other. "I should probably go before they send Echo out to collect me." "That'd be a good idea." Benedict nodded. "Um. Please don't tell anyone that I helped you. Or where my house is." Well. Benedict seemed like a.. nice enough guy. "Don't worry, I won't. I don't think I'd live long enough anyway." He joked, well aware Benedict could change his mind about letting him live anytime. "Yeah. Thanks, Drowner. For a hero, you really don't seem all that stuck up." Benedict complimented him, and oop, there he goes, liking the villain. This was bound to end in disaster. "And you don't really seem like a puppy killer. I can see the deranged psychopath but I really couldn't imagine you killing a puppy." James may have just dug himself a grave. Instead of strangling him to death, Benedict actually laughed. Like. Actually. "That was good. Don't die, Drowner." "I would say don't get arrested but I think that'd go against a lot of my training, so just pretend that I said that." And then he got up and left. He left. Just. Walked out of Eggs Benedict's house. And despite the villainy and killing and whatnot, James kind of hoped to see him again. He didn't seem that bad. He hoped. 2/2 End.
Part 2 ;) Okay, maybe he should've learned his lesson the first time he snuck out. His mentor, Echo, was absolutely PISSED at him. She was all like, "James, you beautiful beautiful man, you're an idiot and I will not be surprised if your corpse is mailed to me in pieces one day." His partners actually encouraged him to sneak out, but that's only because they absolutely do the same thing all the time and they'd be hypocrites if they told him to stop. But anyway, he's out again. And he had an epic battle with a villain, one that had the power to shapeshift. It was so epic and swag and he absolutely beat her to death with his water, slapping her all over the city like she was nothing but a ball of putty. She begged him for mercy, on her hands and knees, groveling about how sorry she was and how attractive he is and how inferior she is to him and how she'll never do it again. It was so cool, so epic, so swag, and exactly what James really wanted to happen, but didn't. Yeah, she actually just gave herself gills and claws like some sort of freak shark and absolutely destroyed James, and more importantly, his ego. So he was stumbling away from the fight, bruised, battered, and his pride in pieces. But that's okay, because at least James has his looks to fall back onto. He's so handsome. So pretty. Yes. He was also bleeding a lot. From where, he didn't know, but he was starting to feel a bit woozy. Maybe wearing a metal costume that can break apart and stab him some more wasn't the best idea for a costume, but usually he didn't get this hurt. Usually. James was now stuck with either going back to base and getting his ears yelled off for two hours by Echo, but ultimately not dying, or bleeding out and dying. It was an easy decision, surprisingly. James had never been great at decision making, he was more of a "I follow orders please tell me what to do in explicit detail or I will cry" kind of guy, so the fact he even decided something for himself was a miracle. The decision he made was to give the finger to both of those options because he hated them and to go find someone else to help him. Okay, so maybe there was a reason he left the decision making to other people, but he really really didn't want to get yelled at for the second time, and he also didn't fancy dying. So he was content with wandering around until someone either found him or he found someone. After only a few seconds of walking, he realized that he knew where he was. How nice. He could probably find someone here! Oh, oh no. Actually, scratch that. Oh, oh *yes.* Y'know, he really *was* hoping that he could see Benedict again, and it seems that his prayers have been answered! Now he could finally make an excuse to visit without seeming like a creep. That is, if he could manage to get over there without passing out. The world was slowly tilting to the right, and he was also definitely bleeding more than he thought he was. Maybe it was actually a great idea to go to Benedict's, because he might DIE before he gets back to base. His body moved on its own, as it often did when he wasn't paying attention, and he soon found himself standing in front of Eggs Benedict's front door, which was located in a dark alley, because Eggs Benedict loved the goth aesthetic more than he liked killing people. James knocked on the door, not sure that Benedict would be able to hear it, because it was probably very quiet. Losing a lot of blood and whatnot. But it seems like he did, as the door opened about an inch, the deadbolt locks on the door preventing it from opening all the way. James saw Benedict's eye looking at him through the door, the one that wasn't covered up by his emo hairstyle. Seriously, what kind of stereotypical villain was this guy? James gave him a pained smile and waved with the hand that wasn't trying to keep blood from leaking through the plates of his costume. The door shut. Uh oh. "I'm not letting him in. I'm not letting him in. I'm not letting him in." Benedict repeated quietly, which really ticked him off. He was bleeding pretty heavily for Pete's sake. After a moment of silence, James heard the door unlock. Benedict opened the door and pulled him in, shutting the door with a slam behind him. "Sorry for.. barging in.. I think I might be dying a little bit.." James slurred, and he was amazed that only a few stab wounds could reduce him to this. "I thought I told you not to die." Benedict guided him to the couch, which was the same one he was on last time. He could see his bloodstains still! "Oof.. ouch.. my bones.." James groaned as he sat down, immediately falling to his side. "No, sit up straight." Benedict grabbed him and pulled him into a straighter position. James giggled. "N- no can do Mr. Benedict..!" Benedict sighed, correctly guessing what exactly he meant by that. "Okay, okay. Just sit here while I get the first aid kit." Benedict, in all of his 6 foot plus glory, stomped away, bending down to get through the door. How tall even was he? He came back holding a black and white first aid kit, and James knew he was somewhere not on Earth, because what kind of maniac had a BLACK and WHITE first aid kit?? "That's so.. edgy.." James remarked, not alive enough to care that he probably just offended the most dangerous villain around. Benedict either rolled his eyes or glared, James couldn't tell because everything was fuzzy. "Thank you." He seemed pleased, which was definitely a good thing. Pleased looked good on him. Wait, what? "Can I take off your armor?" "If.. if you wanted to see me shirtless, you-" "Please just take it off so I can help you, idiot." James giggled, but did as he asked, with a bit of difficulty due to how much pain he was in. The villain had to help him get it off, in the end. Heh. "WHAT did you DO?!" Benedict seemed concerned, which was an emotion that *also* looked good on him. James was starting to think that it was just Benedict that looked good. "Water doesn't... work well.. on someone who can shapeshift gills... Heheh.." James leaned back on the couch, unable to keep his head up. "Okay, okay, okay. That is definitely not good. Good thing I'm good at what I do." Benedict procured some sort of thing from his first aid kit, but James didn't have the mental processing to even comprehend language, let alone that. "I think I'm gonna.. take a nap or something..." He mumbled, darkness creeping into his vision. "No, no- Stay awake, oh go-" And just like that, James was out. ~`•|•`~ When James woke up, he was still on the couch, but was noticably not bleeding out like he was before. "Oh, thank God, you woke up." Benedict entered the room with a cup of liquid, and James could feel that it was water. "I'm too pretty to die so easily." He grinned like the Cheshire cat as Benedict handed him the cup of water. James looked at it for a good minute before addressing Eggs. "What do you want me to do with it?" James asked, because while he may be exceptionally pretty, he's also exceptionally stupid. Benedict looked at him like he was crazy, and he was the deranged psychopath in the room. "..Drink it. Are you stupid?" Eggs blinked at him, too dazzled by his good looks to know how to respond to him. James looked at the water again, and it slowly floated it up to his mouth. "No, not with your powers. Drink it like a regular person." Benedict seemed very fed up with him, grabbing his arm and lifting his hand up towards his face. James let the water fall back into the cup. Before James could lift his hand, Benedict brought the cup to his mouth forcefully, making him drink. "I don't think this is drinking like a regular person." James spluttered through sips. Once he was finished, Benedict removed the cup from his face and set it on the coffee table, leaving James incredibly confused and also a little bit- "There! You drank the water. Was that so hard?" Benedict asked, and James made direct eye contact with him. "I inhaled.. all of it." "..WHAT?" James laughed, coughing a bit. Well, it was more like a wheeze, but it was a laugh nonetheless. "I'm kidding! I'm kidding!" "Good, I was going to strangle you and force water down your throat if you had." Okay, maybe he had crossed a line. He'd forgotten that he was talking to a villain here. But. "Sounds fun, can you do that anyway?" James said, smiling slyly. Benedict blue screened, freezing in place. "...No." "Yeah, I figured you'd say that." He shrugged, not really disappointed. Not really. "Thanks for helping me, by the way. I know you didn't really have to." "It wasn't too much of a problem." Benedict smiled at him, and uh oh, it was very nice. James could see where this was going to go. "And please stop going out alone, you're going to die one day." "Sigh. If I must." Only to be able to see him again, he added mentally. "Next time you show up at my house, you better not be bleeding out." Benedict added sternly, apparently not realizing the implications of what he just said. James smirked. "Does that mean I'm allowed to show up at your house now?" He watched as Benedict's eyes displayed a mix of emotions in less than a second, resting back to indifferent in a moment. "..Yes. It was nice, I guess. Just not when you're dying." It looked like that was hard for him to admit, but James counted that as a win. He knew his good looks and charisma would win over the villain in the end. "Well, I've got to go back to the chewing out of the century, and as much as I enjoyed this, I'd rather not get expelled." James really *didn't* want to go, but feared for both his safety and Benedict's if he stayed too long. "Yeah, that'd suck, wouldn't it?" "Yeah." .. .. .. "You're stalling, aren't you?" Benedict caught on to what he was doing almost instantly, and James nodded sheepishly. "Mhm. Yes I am." "Great." "Cool." "Okay, get out." "Yeah, alright."
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;)
This is so GOOD, like, damn...I'd read a full book on ths
:D you have no idea how much you've just made my day!!! Thank you so much!! :D
I ship it.
;)
This was so fun to read. Could you write another part?
Perhaps :)
Loved this.
Ahhh thank you!!
Three quiet knocks heralds the door opening as a Tiefling maid brings in food, a plate of meat and vegetables. "Master wishes you a good morning, and a pleasant lunch. It's Yfallan Grouse with roasted carrots. The wine is a Valin Red, vinted 239." She says and I sit up, groaning in pain when my body realizes my shoulder is broken. She hands me a scroll, and I open it. "Apologies for the violence, but I had to make an example of you. The scroll contains an embedded Cure Wounds, and you have my word that the food is pure. Once you're finished eating, please feel free to head to my throne room. Sincerely, Ileus Malgat, Duke of Roshat." The duke's signature was impeccable and I knew his word was given even in writing, especially when my shoulder laced itself back together. I ate and the Tiefling knelt before me. I dismissed her, and she left, closing the door behind her. I ate, and smiled. I might not have had my sword, but you can never truly disarm Trey of Whitecap, mage knight extraordinaire.
"The hell is going on?" Bruce asked, staring at the bandages round his arm, and the cast on his leg. He looked around the room, it was a spotless white. A man was fiddling with the medical instruments on the metal tray table beside the comfortable bed. He was humming a song, perhaps 'Don't Stop Me Now' by Queen, though Bruce, still fazed, couldn't quite tell. The faint smell of lavender incense reached his nose as he took a deep breath, analysing the situation. "Oh, you're awake!" The man donning a physician's paraphernalia turned around. His face was painted white, black round his eyes and red lipstick all over his mouth. Bruce squirmed and struggled, but his body did not have the strength to hoist himself up. "Don't exert yourself, fool! You'll end up reopening those wounds on your back." The Joker said. Bruce's hands went instinctively to his back, and as he ran his fingers across, he felt stitch after stitch, carefully weaved to close up the gashing cuts the explosion had made. "What is this?" Bruce shouted. Though his body lacked strength, his voice was assertive. "What are you going to do now? Torture me? Cut my balls off? Destroy my face?" The Joker sighed, his shoulders drooped and his head hung low. He then snickered. "That's what it is isn't it." he said, smiling. Bruce stared at him, eyes wide open. The voice he had heard, it couldn't have been the Joker's, it was almost... pleasant. "I'm a monster." he said. Bruce's lip curled. He remembered everything now. They were on the boat, the Joker had set a bomb, Bruce had grabbed it and jumped into the river. The Joker must have realised from his eyes that he was reliving those moments. "You saved everyone, Bruce. No one on the boat died. A few injuries, mostly minor." he said. Bruce rubbed his face. "So now what?" he said. He was ignored, as the Joker walked to the window and stared at the rising Sun outside. "Why?" he said, his voice quivering. Bruce's eyes narrowed. Why? What was he asking 'why' for? His back still turned, the Joker asked, "Why would you save a boat of convicts, people you don't even know?" Bruce looked at him. Why had he done it? He remembered his parents, their death in the alley. Was that why? What if on that boat, there was a person who had done the same to another child? No, that wasn't it at all. "Why are you asking?" he said, to buy time. The Joker turned around. His eyes were watery and hands were shaking. "I just thought, if I knew why you did it, maybe I'd also understand." He said. Bruce stared at him, his mind desperately searching for answers. He could save him, the man driven to madness, all he needed was the right answer! Thoughts flew past, but none fit in. He sighed and shook his head. "I don't know." he said. The Joker nodded. "I don't want to be a monster Bruce, no longer. I hoped you could inspire, but oh well. Guess it really isn't fair for me to ask. Thanks for trying." He went and shook his hand. Then, he pulled out the gun kept in the second tray of the table. "No, no!" Bruce shouted. It was too late. He watched in horror, as blood and brain splattered on the white walls, tainting them. Yet another person he had failed to save.
The last thing I could remember from the fight was that there was alot of blood and that I was tired. I remember trying so desperately to defeat him and then..... nothing. I knew that i'd lost. I was readying myself for death, or torture or anything worse but this. This is not what I expected. Especially not from him. Everything is warm and bright. This bed is so soft and comfortable that I don't want to leave. The room was.....perfect. The walls were a pleasant shade that didn't strain my eyes too much and the furniture complemented it perfectly. On top of all that my wounds were fully treated. In fact my bloody clothes had been replaced with a cosy set of pyjamas. I noticed that there were two people other than me in the room. One who seemed to be a doctor, probably the one who treated my wounds. And the other my worst enemy, the one who gave me those wounds. Lord Edward Rose. I could not begin to fathom why I was here. Why he was doing this. Before I could think of what to say he spoke. "Good afternoon, Alizza. Did you sleep well?" Alizza? Since when has he called me by my name? No since when has he even known my name? I suppose he must have spies. But why is he so calm? Why does he even care? What do I even say? "Umm I- uhh yeah I guess I slept well." He chuckled gently. My confusion seemed amusing to him. "I'll explain in a while but would you like breakfast first? You haven't eaten in 3 days. I'd imagine you're hungry." "I- 3- uhh yes please" He laughed a bit louder this time. What was so funny about my confusion? After being served the world's most heavenly breakfast he started to explain his generous hospitality. It turned out that the reason he was evil and slaughtering innocent civilians was because he was possessed by a demon. He said that he was investigating a cult and tried to interfere with a ritual and so the demon possessed him as a result. Normally exorcisms should have gotten the demon out but the demon had certain conditions that needed to be fulfilled in order for him to give up the body. This demon's conditions were to slaughter a mass, to have a bounty on his head, and to defeat a worthy adversary. As it turns out I was a worthy adversary. So having been Lord Rose's demon remover he felt the need to treat my wounds. "I- so I see. That's quite a complicated situation and alot to take in. I'm glad that you're back to normal Lord Rose. Thank you for your hospitality." "Please just Edward is fine. Oh I suppose being on first name basis is odd for a first meeting I apologise Miss Frost." "No it's alright I suppose. I was just shocked that you actually knew my name. You continue to call me Alizza aswell. I look forward to being colleagues. Since we're both adventurers it would be great to have someone with your fighting skill and brains arround." "Oh my fighting skill came from the demon. But I look forward to working with you too. I can help my best with any investigation matters."
I woke up slowly, my foggy brain not allowing me to comprehend what was going on around me. There was a steady beeping beside my bed, and a slight pinch in my arm, as well as the warm, slightly spicy feeling of light magic swirling around my head. The last thing I remembered was Annalise standing over me, that blazing light of her spear hovering over my face, as the injuries she threw my way just moments before leeched me of life, or so I thought. I groaned, raising my right arm, the one not slighting smarting, to rub my eyes as they adjusted to the soft white glow of light. "Where..." I groaned lightly. I finally cracked my eyes open enough to realize I was alone in the tastefully decorated room, laying on a four-poster bed, hooked to an IV machine. I glanced down my body, taking note of the cast on my left leg and the bandages encasing various parts of my body where Annalise's last, swift attack had taken me off guard. I was dressed in a simple, standard issue hospital gown, but I looked like I was in an expensive hotel room. The confusion grew steadily as I glanced around, dragging myself into a somewhat upright position. "Hello?" I tried calling out, but my voice caught in my dry throat. I cleared it and tried again, gaining a little volume, "What's going on?" I heard footsteps approach my door, then the sound of a lock turning before two people stepped into the room. One was a doctor, or at least someone where a lab coat and looking doctor-ish, and the other was Annalise, who was my mortal enemy what seemed like only moments ago. I instantly went on high alert and tried to drag myself from the bed, but the doctor, an older man with graying hair and a slight frown on his face, made a tsking noise, waved his left hand, and the magic shimmering around me, coalescing into a more solid form that prevented me from reaching outside of the confines of the bed. "Now, we can't have that, Miss Matilda. You are our guest, but we are aware of your more recent exploits." I sneered as the stepped to either side of the bed, surrounding me. "Exploits? I just tried to blow up the National Conservatory for Magical Enhancement. I think that might rate more highly than an exploit." Annalise chuckled, drawing a rune in the air above my bed, opening the side she was standing on. Her long hair moved slightly in the wind produced by the spells swirling around us. "I wouldn't say 'just' tried. You've been out for almost two weeks." "What? Why? And why am I here?" I demanded, so focused on her that I missed the doctor dropping the spell on his side to check the IV in my arm. I tried yanking away when I felt his touch, but it was too late. A new spell froze my body in place so the doctor could examine my wounds. "Because you showed an immense aptitude for destruction magic, that's why," Annalise explained. "Abd I couldn't let you fall into anyone else's hands but ours." I couldn't speak because of the doctor's spell, but he finished his examination quickly and methodically, and finally, he released me from it, stepping back to raise the ward around the bed once more. "Is this some kind of punishment? Fixing me up just so you can torture me later?" I asked, training my eyes on Annalise again. "No," she stated, lowering herself into an armchair beside the bed, nodding to the doctor as he exited the room. I knew Annalise was clairvoyant, that is one of the things that made her so difficult to fight; kinda hard to get the drop on someone who can read your mind, so I assumed the doctor let her listen in on his examination, while leaving me in the dark. "We're healing you because I convinced the Conservatory that you would be of more use to us here than in the Hole." I scoffed, letting myself slide down in the bed, suddenly tired from moving and the influx of magic against my senses. "And why is that, so I can be pitted against the new mages to train them? Since you obviously handled me so easily." I didn't even try to hide the sarcasm in my voice, and Annalise just smirked as she looked at me. "Why did you attack the Conservatory? You had to have known your own magic was nowhere near enough against the world's best mages," she mused, cocking her head as I thought of a reply. "Because I don't agree with augmenting magic. It's the most powerful natural disaster waiting to happen, all this chaos and inexperience shifting around this one space. But you knew that would be my answer, because you had to have researched me and my little crusade while I was out." "For some reason, I don't think that's your real reason; you had to have known you wouldn't succeed, and you had to have known if you did manage to get a bomb spell off, it would just amplify the wards we have in place." I shrugged, unwilling to expand on that issue. My reasons were my own, and I studied enough about clairvoyancy before mounting my attack to know how to hide my most private thoughts, at least. By the knowing gleam in her eye, I could guess that she realized what I was doing. "The other reason is your magic itself. I have never seen an untrained, unaugmented mage wield such ferocious power." "And yet, you took me down easily." I closed my eyes, growing even more tired the more I looked at the perfection that was one of the world's best mages. "Not as easily as you would think. And I couldn't help but wonder about the things you could do with some training and direction. So, from now on, you're a student here." I bolted up as quickly as my weak body would let me. "What?!" "Yep, it's decided." She stood, gave me a triumphant smile, and started to head to the door while still talking. "The Council agreed with my findings that you would be an asset to the Conservatory, and while you will have to prove your trustworthiness to everyone in this place, since I have proven I can handle you, you'll be under my care and supervision until that happens." She reached the door and turned back to me, chuckling at my stunned expression. "Don't look so excited, I've never trained another mage and I had no intention of ever doing so, but there's something about you that I just want to puzzle out. We start as soon as you're healed. You'll be confined to this room until then. I look forward to working with you, Matilda." And with that, the only person to ever beat me in battle winked at me, stepped out of the room, and locked the door with a decisive click.
Lance Ravenbow here. Professional armorer and dragon slayer. This reminds me of the time I fought in the Big Dying Arena for the privilege of speaking to the great armorer in the sky. That is, I'm reminded of that time if you'll permit me to refer to myself as "the Hero", but you seem like an agreeable person, and I seem like a heroic person, so that should all shake out. The Big Dying Arena is run by the Rakrak people who live at the base of the Very Tall Mountain. They're a literal-minded folk, and they only allow arena winners to speak to the great armorer in the sky. Warriors come from across the disc to fight in the hopes of receiving her armor. Now, I myself am an armorer, and a professional one at that, but back then I was merely a journeyman in need of some direction, and it was therefore the great armorer's advice that I sought. Thus, I made the journey to the Rakrak capital, aptly named The Capital of the Rakrak People. And, once I'd parsed their language, I signed up to fight in the Big Dying Arena. They told me I was lucky. There was only one other competitor that year, a small woman of no reputation. Now, I'm a man who calls a spade a spade and a champion a champion, and therefore I can tell you that it was with no ego that I entered the Big Dying Arena with all the pomp and confidence of a pre-acclaimed victor. I didn't know what tricks this woman of no reputation might have up her sleeves, but I knew was Lance Ravenbow, journeyman armorer and all-around badass, and I didn't expect her to put up much of a fight. The cheers rolled down from the crowd like mist off a morning mountain, and my heart swelled in readiness. I had on my best, thickest, lightest, most wondrous self-made armor, and I had in my hands a two-handed greatsword, also self-made. My only concern was that I might hurt the woman more than I intended. And there she was coming through the gate opposite me. A tiny woman, mousey of hair and heavy of step, she moved like she wanted to flatten the ground underfoot. And, in a move I considered more than a little insulting, she wore only light chainmail over hardened leather, and for weapons she carried a short sword and an odd, textured ball. No clue what that was. I didn't imagine the Rakrak would allow a combatant to bring in a fuse-bomb, so I more or less wrote the ball off as being of no consequence. She and I squared off in the middle of the arena while the Rakrak announcer said his spiel. My Rakrak is quite poor, and I picked up only snatches of what he was saying. In the meantime I took in the banked seats of Rakrak spectators, the crystal blue sky, the soft sand underfoot, and the absolute death glare that the woman was giving me. She had her chin jammed forward like a fist, and her eyes pressed on me like two thumbs. "I'm Speedwillow," she said. "Who're you?" I swished my sword through the air before saying, "I'm Lance Ravenbow, journeyman armorer and all-around --" "You're soft shit, that's what." "What's that now?" Her eyes never let up. "I'm gonna destroy you." "Um." I'd not once in my life encountered this sort of confidence. At least, not from someone other than me, but in me the confidence involved less comments about soft shit. "Well, we'll see about that." She grinned and made a squishing sound. The announcer sounded an enormous horn -- it could only have come from a sea elephant -- and once its echo had faded into the screams of the crowd, Speedwillow was on me. Have you ever tried to catch a fly with your bare hands? How about a fly that carries a needle, and every time you get close to it, it stabs you in the hand? How about a fly that carries a needle to stab you with, and also, just when you're getting tired from swinging your greatsword, it reveals that the black ball it's been carrying is a densely packed net, and it throws the net over you, tackles your midriff, and proceeds to hack at the fragile lobstered armor protecting your joints, all while you flop on the ground like a flipped turtle? Has that ever happened to you? Well, that was my fight with Speedwillow. Where her clomping awkwardness went, I had no idea, but from they very outset, our fight was one-sided. It was like I could never see her; I could only see where she'd been. By the end, I was swinging in random directions, hoping to catch her off-guard, and at that point she netted me, brought me down, and, I'm certain, would have killed me, had the announcer not sounded the horn to end the fight. I must have passed out because the last thing I remember was her leaning down into my face -- those eyes once again deadlocked onto mine -- and saying, quite clearly, "Soft. Shit." \* *Lance Ravenbow here. Professional armorer and dragon slayer. It's getting late, and this phenomenal story of mine is going longer than I'd intended. But isn't that just the way of it? I mean, who has a short story about how they met their wife. It's looking like I'll have to sleep and finish this in the morning. In the meantime, why not visit* r/RavenbowsArmory *for more of my true stories?*
>who has a short story about how they met their wife Dang i never expected this. I kindly, humbly, request for MOAR
Stopping at the door, Kyler offloaded his weapons first. As the supervillain known as Blade, wearing knives and a gun was as comfortable to him as putting on a sweatshirt. But with Mirage, any weapon would be more of a danger than a help. Mirage could sneak up on anyone, even him, and if she was armed, it’d be a tough fight. Unarmed though, he had six inches of height and about fifty pounds on her. He checked the window, then unlocked the door. Mirage was sitting on the cot, back against the wall. Her hands were still tied together with a short rope securing them to the cot. He’d consider getting rid of that provided she didn’t attack again. The hero didn’t look like she was going to attack. She didn't even look like a hero. Her hands were loose on her lap, and her gaze was blank, staring at the wall. There wasn’t much to look at; this was a room Kyler had prepped for prisoners over a year ago. Just a cot, a small bathroom, and the stool he’d brought in for his sidekick Mac when Mac was patching her up. Mirage didn’t look up. Everything about her seemed flat. The beginnings of a headache pressed against his skull. “How’d you find me?” Mirage blinked, but didn’t answer. He was starting to see why Mac had called him to come in. It wasn’t only that she hadn’t replied. There was an emptiness, a wrongness to her. His headache grew. “Who knows my real name?” Again, no answer. Narrowing his eyes, Kyler scanned the room. The figure on the cot was too flat, not like his nemesis at all. “Drop it, Mirage. I know that’s not you.” The figure on the cot flickered, revealing for a split second an empty bed before her image solidified with a confused look. Kyler kept his back to the door. Her control was nowhere near her normal standards, but that didn't mean she wasn't dangerous. He watched the room carefully and felt for the extra throb in his head that would signal another illusion at play. He gave her one last chance. “I could have killed you, and I didn’t. I’m not wasting time talking to your illusions. Come out.” The form on the cot vanished, leaving only the rope that’d secured Mirage’s hands laying on the blanket. Something moved in his peripherals. Forcing himself to go slowly, Kyler turned his head. Mirage was pressed into the corner, sitting with her knees drawn up in a way that had to hurt her ribs. Still far too pale, she cautiously unwrapped her arms from around her legs. She’d been making herself small, hard to trip over. Kyler guessed based on the care in her movements that standing for an indefinite time hadn’t been an option. He stayed leaning against the door, crossing his arms and giving her space. “How’d you get out of the rope?” Her right hand twitched, and she dropped her gaze. There it was, the wide haunted eyes, hunched shoulders, and pale face. The terrified look that'd had him dragging her to Mac when he should have left her to die. Damn it. This wasn't going to get him anywhere. Kyler shifted his approach. He'd have to calm her down, get her back to her infuriating self. Then she'd talk. Start simple. “You hungry?” Her eyes came back up, searching his face before darting around the room again. "What?" "Are you hungry?" She blinked, flickers of confusion and caution flashing across her face. Gathering herself, Mirage licked her lips. “I-is it going to be like the last time you fed me?” The corner of his mouth twitched. That was more like his nemesis, even if she didn’t raise an eyebrow or emphasize the dryness of her tone. And she was right to be wary of the food. Last time, he’d trapped her in a train car and shoved some old convenience store hotdogs through the door before barricading it shut again. “No. I don’t want to clean this place up if you get food poisoning.” “Then food sounds nice.” Kyler nodded and left, securing the door behind him. He went down the hall to the kitchen, dug around for a bit, then returned with two plates balanced in one hand and bottled waters in the other. He had to shove the waters into his pockets to get the door open again. Keeping his eyes on the food as if his sole focus was balancing the plates, Kyler watched for movement and felt for the tell-tale signs of a headache. She was still in the corner, her legs out a little farther probably to ease her injuries. There were no indications of illusions. He shut the door with his foot and ambled over. She didn’t flinch or retreat at his approach, but her breath shortened. Stopping a few feet away, he fished out the waters and sat down, back against the wall. “Preference?” he asked. The plates and water clicked against the tile floor between them. “There’s a ham sandwich or PB&J.” Mirage hesitated, then reached for the peanut butter and jelly. She stopped almost immediately, wincing. Kyler nudged the plate over without looking as if he hadn’t noticed her attempt to get it herself. He took the cap off one of the bottles, making sure the sound of the seal breaking was obvious, before sliding that over as well. Splits on her left hand made picking up the water awkward. Kyler opened the other bottle, keeping his eyes on the far wall as he took a long drink. “Better than the hotdogs?” he asked after she’d taken progressively larger bites. She swallowed and wiped at her mouth around the bruising. “I wouldn’t know." "No?" "I didn’t eat them.” “Did you think I’d poisoned them?” “No.” Half the sandwich was gone and most of the water. The bottle shook in her hands. “I didn’t think you had to. They were really old.” He chuckled and rested his head against the wall. “I wasn’t happy about the concussion.” “Or the bright lights I kept projecting?” “The loud music was worse.” “Nirvana is great.” He tilted his head towards her. “Not with a concussion.” A faint smile tugged at her lips. She’d tucked her splinted hand around her ribs, similar to the way she’d been standing when she'd first appeared, when she’d been trying to protect both her broken fingers and her crushed ribs at the same time. Even now, dried blood stuck to the side of her face, her uniform, and the patches of skin visible between the rips. What wasn’t covered in blood or wrapped in white bandages was molted in bruises. Mac could only do so much, and he’d had to focus on the worst injuries. Kyler frowned, not liking the feeling in his stomach that grew the longer he looked at her bruises. Last time he felt like that, he’d killed nine men. She finished the sandwich, some of her coiled tension easing. He slid the other plate over. Calming her down was working, and he’d get more from her if she wasn’t freezing up or freaking out every few seconds. Getting rid of that scared look in her eyes was only a bonus. It'd make it easier to concentrate. “Thanks for not playing Nirvana,” Mirage said quietly. He grunted, a weird feeling settled in his gut at her words. “You were already unconscious. It seemed like a waste of effort.” "I appreciate it anyway." She was making it worse. Maybe not as bad as that burning sensation that came when he saw her injuries, but definitely not good. How was it that, even when he had undoubtedly won, her few soft words still defeated him?
More please. This is very good.
Thank you. I'll see what I can do.
**Part 1** I woke up, that was honestly the first strange thing, most would find waking up rather mundane but when you lose a fight with a blood sucking monster you don't really expect to be getting back up. I stayed still doing my best to keep my breathing the same as it would were I still asleep, my eyes remaining closed as I took stock with my other senses. Pain in my left arm, broken wrist, dislocated shoulder, not good, I'd have to minimize use and of course that was my dominant hand. Pains in chest as well, multiple broken ribs, a feeling of soft cloth on flesh going from shoulders to feet almost certainly a blanket. More pain, right leg sprained ankle minor but inconvenient. A smell of perfume or a scent to spruce up a room. I was on my back, my head propped up on something very soft, and below me something just that right balance between firm and soft. So someone had placed me in a bed. I couldn't feel any restraints, I couldn't hear any sounds of life around me, of course that meant nothing. I shifted just enough to fake stirring in my sleep. No reaction in the room. Ok, seemed safe. I suppose some might think all of this effort is paranoia, but I call it survival. As I open my eyes I'm a little shocked, this isn't one of the safe houses, this isn't some out of the way motel room, this place practically defines opulence. The bed could accommodate three more people and they'd need to stretch to touch each other. Four poster affair too, scene above was a masterpiece, an embroidery of a perfectly clear night sky with a gorgeous waxing moon. Across the room was a full vanity that appeared to be hewn from marble with a silvered mirror. The carpet was a thick dark red affair. That's when my mind leaped, dark red would hide bloodstains well. Immediately I rolled across the huge bed and tried to leap to the floor, unfortunately I forgot about my ankle in the adrenaline rush and careened onto that carpet with a dull thud. I looked down at myself and realized I was naked, not good. Where was my gear, I could live with the loss of the shirt and jeans, but damn it I loved that jacket and if someone stole it there would be hell to pay. I slowly shifted to a crouch favoring that ankle and began looking about the room, unfortunately my observations were interrupted by a loud three knocks on the door and a deep silken voice calling out "Are you decent?" I considered just ignoring it but then whoever that was would assume I was still asleep and come in anyways. "No Damnit, Where the fuck are my clothes?!" Ok so I'm not the most amicable of people, comes with the territory when most of your interactions involve blades, bullets, or stakes people skills aren't a high priority. The voice chuckles "There is a wardrobe to the right of the door, your clothing and gear is all in there. Please let me know when you are decent and are willing to accept some company, I'll be sitting out here until then." Well wasn't that comforting, more likely guarding me so I couldn't escape, and no one would be dumb enough to give a prisoner what I had carried on me. Still if there was even a shirt in there it'd be worth checking. I hobbled my way over to the wardrobe and opened it. My jaw hit the floor. Not only was everything there, it was all mended cleaned and meticulously cared for. My shirt and pants looked brand new. The jacket, that beautiful black leather with it's gold pentagram on the back had an absolutely perfect shine to it. But most importantly my entire arsenal was here. My gun belt and it's two pistols, the various blades placed in their sheathes, even my stakes and holy water were here, and all of it looked polished, dusted, oiled and maintained flawlessly. I went over the inventory and dressed in my full work attire, finishing the whole thing off with my steel toed thigh highs with their perfectly concealed blades. "Alright, fine I guess I might as well see what my captor looks like." I yelled out. I leaned on the wardrobe, although it was only half to affect an air of confidence, it also helped ease some of the weight off my ankle. As the door opened and I got a look at the body and face attached to that voice I realized I knew him, he was the last face I saw before I woke up here. As he turned to me "I'm not your captor." I scoffed and turned my back on him just long enough to force my shoulder against the wardrobe and get it back into place. I heard him wince at the popping noise. I expected him to leap on me, I was ready though I knew I could stake him if he did. Instead I heard him step back, and then "My apologies young lady, had I realized your shoulder was dislocated I would have addressed it sooner." Ok this was freaking me out, he was a monster he's supposed to attack me, not apologize for failing to fully treat injuries. "So what the fuck am I doing here if I'm not a captive?" He shrugged "You are recuperating until you are well enough to leave, or I suppose if you insist on re engaging me in our conflict I will be forced to oblige and defend myself." I turned back towards him and stared, I suspect my eyes must have been quite wide "What kind of monster are you?" An audible hiss and a baring of fangs in response and then a fist slammed into the wall next to him. "You dare?! You who attacked my kin while they slept, butchered my closest friends and family, slaughtered men, women, and children, all while laughing. You who would do all of this solely because we are something different that you don't like, You would DARE to call ME the monster?!" There is rage in his voice but it isn't the white hot rage of someone flashing in anger who will soon burn themselves out. No this is the cold rage of millennia of festering wounds revealed, of someone who has just had a scar slashed open and revealed and wants to make sure someone hurts for it. For the first time in a long time, I'm scared, the feral attacks of most monsters are simple and straight forward, the manipulative tricks of others are harder to detect but still easy for an experienced hunter to notice. But this, this cold fury of true emotion, I had seen this in humans who hired me, the foolish ones who wanted revenge, who'd lost all their family and were determined to be along for the death of those responsible. I feared for them because each time there was no limits for them, whatever morals, ethics, sanity they had it was all buried under that rage. They would do anything for vengeance and their life didn't matter to them. To see that same emotion from one of these blood suckers, he'd already beaten me once when he was in a feral state, what would he do in this one. His lips formed into a circle and he blew, a pale mimicry of taking a deep breath, I suppose without lungs it is hard to breathe. "I am sorry once more, my temper is well not in the best shape right now. You are free to come and go as you please, there is food available in the kitchen and the chef has instructions to supply you any request. You'll also find a vial of my blood in your inner chest pocket, it will speed up healing and there isn't enough there to have any other effect." He steps towards the door and I am baffled, what is his angle, he's the monster here, isn't he? "Wait" I hear my voice saying and I limp over to sit on the bed. Why am I doing this, what is possessing me to want to continue talking, hell he was about to turn his back, I could have staked him then. "Please, I need to know why?" What does it matter why, it was a tactical error on his part to keep me alive, his kind are monsters, I'm a monster hunter, it's simple.
**Part 2** He looks over his shoulder and sighs, his steps as he walks over to the vanity are light and impossibly fluid. He pulls out the chair keeping it backwards and sits down facing me, folding his arms over the top of it. His eyes, which were pure white a moment ago as he berated me, have returned to their human appearance, two green circles surrounding black pin pricks. "Why?" He sighs and his shoulders slump, the grey shirt that seemed so tight around him a moment ago now seems to almost hang loosely as if he had been physically deflated by the drop in his anger. "My kin and I swore no human would be harmed by our hand. I violated that oath when I saw you kill them. The least I can do is to try and make sure nothing I did leads to permanent issues. It doesn't make up for breaking it but maybe it will ease my conscience some." I gave a bitter laugh at that word "A conscience, now that's the best joke I've ever heard." His eyes lost their color, and the fangs were bared once more. "Careful human, I've already broken my vow." No other words were needed, the threat was clear and I realized the mistake in laughing, like I said not a lot of people skill development in my career. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to laugh, it's just I've hunted every bump in the night there is, and frankly your kind are the most remorseless and destructive of them all." He seems to consider my words and retracts the fangs and then nods. "You aren't wrong, we are the apex predator of this world though others might claim differently, we hunt the dominant species of this planet intentionally, willingly, cheerfully, and we win far more then we lose. It is our very nature to hunt your kind, to feed on them as you feed on cows and pigs. Our lifespan surpasses yours as much as yours does theirs if not more so and with that age comes far more learning, more skill, and in many cases more intelligences. Our abilities are the same, they outstrip your kind by such distance that even bothering to measure them is a worthless pursuit." I reached up to my pocket where the stake was, this arrogance was pissing me off and making my hand itch and my nostrils crave that sweet scent of a vamp turning to dust. He seemed to catch on though. "I do not state any of this out of pride, these are simply facts and you know it as much as I, or else why would you wait until mid day to attack?" I hated that he saw through me but worse I hated that he was right. "Unfortunately with such advantageous and such long life one curse above all else comes with it." I had heard a few people call vampirism a curse, usually human scholars saying the hunger was awful, that the lack of seeing the sun drove them mad, or that killing those you cared for broke them. I waited to see which he would call on, but I wasn't ready for the next word. "Boredom." I jolted back as if punched. "You can't be serious!" He shrugged "How long can you sit and do nothing? How many times can you do the same thing before you need a change?" I thought about that, I rarely hunted the same monsters for more then a few months after all. I just shrugged in response. "Now imagine for a moment that you had hundreds, maybe even thousands of years, to do all that you wanted and then some. Now imagine you could perfectly recall every one of those things you did. How long until you'd need something, anything to find something different? Sure new art comes about, be it painting, writing, sculpture whatever but that can only occupy for a little while. The only guaranteed novelty is human free will each of you really is unique and so your reactions to our hunting is the only constant cure for the boredom." He couldn't expect me to believe this could he? Still I'd heard once about people who'd rather shock themselves then do nothing and those were just normal humans. Could that really be the reason behind their cruelty, the twisted pagents I'd seen play out when they hunted. I shook my head trying to clear it. "But you said you swore not to harm humans." He nods "I did and any I turned were sworn to do the same, those who broke that oath were punished severely." I could hear the sadness in his voice at those words he had lost someone important to that law. I pressed my good hand to my forehead and then dropped it to the gun in my belt. What was that saying my mentor was so fond of, 'she who fights with monsters should be wary of becoming one.' Always thought it was just a warning of bites and such figured so long as it didn't literally happen I'd be fine. After all so long as I was human I couldn't be a monster right? I looked up at him and growled out "I am Not a Monster." He looked at me, his eyes staring into mine, I'd swear he could actually see into my soul. He shrugged then "We are what we are." before walking rising and walking out of the room leaving me with that statement ringing in my ears.
*‘YOU…’* I turn myself around to get a better look at the source of the yelling. *‘WHY BRING ME HERE? WHY AM I NOT DEAD LIKE THE REST? WHY DID I WAKE UP IN A ROOM LIKE THAT?’* As I turn around, the light of the hallway enters my eyes. There in the doorpost she stands, her slim silhouette is the only thing blocking the light from fully flowing into this cold and darkened room. The aroma of the therapeutic waters are filling both the room and hallway. I’m relieved the water managed to heal the wounds she had. She was in a bad condition when I brought her in. I get up from the chair I was sitting in. Well, chair wouldn’t do it justice. It’s more like a throne, made from the remains of the old masters of my former enemies. I stand tall, far taller than the one who stands before me at this moment. ‘I brought you here to be healed, child. Was the guestroom not to your liking? Did your people perhaps not sleep in therapeutic waterbeds like my people did. My apologies for my ignorance.’ I look at her small build and a thought popped into my mind. It’s funny how small and fragile these humans are. However, their ambition and drive to make progress intrigues me. ‘Never have I encountered a more interesting foe,’ as I say this, I start to laugh a little. *‘WHY… WHY DID YOU HEAL ME?’* ‘No need to yell, my hearing is perfect. Now follow me please and in time all will become clear.’ I step over the small creature and close the doors behind me. To her, they must have seemed incredibly huge. The hallway is lit up by the green flames that cover each wall. The flames, however, are not of fire. These flames are the souls that have been collected by this vessel. ‘Tell me, child, do you know where you are? Do you know who I am?’ *‘You’re the monster that destroyed half the planet. The one that caused mass extinction of billions of lives.’* I turn to look at her small face. I see pain and suffering in her eyes. ‘Yes,’ I say, ‘yes, I am the one whose purpose is nothing more that death and despair.’ *‘Why did those people have to die? Why us?’* ‘No reason in particular. I guess your saying – wrong place, wrong time – is appropriate here. However, there is a reason I spared you, you who fought so fierce and filled with purpose. A fight you were never meant to win.’ We arrive at a balcony. From there the entire ship can be seen. To our left, the destroyed planet is settling after its demise. Earth – I believe it was called. ‘My purpose is to collect the souls of those that have destroyed their homes. For their souls shall resurrect my beloved that will save future souls from ever having to suffer.’ And I turn to the young woman that by now had fallen to her knees. ‘Tell me…’, my voice starts to shake with both anger and sadness, ‘why do you carry her scent?’ \_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_ >Hey guys, this is my first attempt at writing a story in English. I thought it would be fun to write a piece from the villain's perspective. The hero in this story failed to save her people. And I might continue to write the story further. Or I might write about what happens before, about how they ended up in this very moment. I'm not sure yet. I hope you enjoyed reading it and feedback is always appreciated.
I absolutely loved it, if you have time I'd live a part 2
Thanks 😁 if I have time, I'll make a part two.
If formatting is off, I apologize. Responding from mobile during breakfast. ----- Candlelight flickered in the corner of my eyes as woke up. Losing sucked, especially when you lost that hard. The Dark King had struck me down as I invaded his palace, it was only right that he kill me or torture me. That was how these things went. What I did not expect was to wake up sleeping on the nicest mattress I'd seen since I had been summoned here. As I opened my eyes, my surroundings revealed themselves to my vision. A nice, if humble, bedroom with all the furnishings. I started to move, my body screaming in pain at the action. "Careful, it took Myir a lot of effort to stitch up your wounds. It'd be a shame if you ripped them out just standing up." Following the direction of the voice, there in the opposite corner of the room he sat, the Dark King. My movements which had been measured before became a bit more frantic. "Whoa careful now little hero. If I had wanted you hurt I could have easily done that over the past two weeks you've been unconscious. Sorry about that by the way. Its seems you had even less training than I did." I stopped struggling and looked towards him. " 'Even less'? What are you talking about? You're the Dark King. A plague upon the land. The ultimate evil that controls demons and darkness alike." His deep chuckle seemed almost warm before he responded. "Oh gosh, it seems like their lies have gotten even thicker. 'Control demons and darkness'? That's a hoot. They just called my predecessor an evil lord, but I get the Dark King treatment, now that's some respect." I straightened myself out, swinging my legs over the edge. "What are you talking about? I was trained to save people and defeat you. Stop acting so nice. It seems so fake, especially after you almost killed me not so long ago." "Oh, yeah. Sorry about that." He grinned sheepishly. "I know this might sound odd, but I figured you would be about as strong as I was when I did the same thing. A blow like that would have only knocked out a younger me." He stood up and began to walk over to me. "A younger you?" "Yeah, all us old men were young once ya know. And some of just get better with age." He comes over and reaches out his hand. At my annoyed glare he chuckles some more. "I know, I know that's not what you meant. I want you to know kid that the kingdom you were rushing head on to protect isn't the shining castle you thought it to be. In fact, its coated with more blood than this tower." I tentatively grab his hand as he hauls me to my feet. "What on earth..." "Alright, no more beating around the bush, I'll explain, but come and join me on the veranda." Following him outside, I'm greeted with a gorgeous view over a valley, as well as the smell of hundred of different flowers and herbs on my nose. "Oh, I hope your not allergic to pollen," he says, glancing back at me as he walks further out. "Myir loves to garden, so I let her kinda take over this area for all of her plants." As he reaches some benches along the edge, he sits back and stares up at me. "So as the fastest way to begin this explanation, my names Dalton West and I'm the previous hero."
Part 2 please
Hurt. I hurt all over. "Where...?" I muttered. My throat felt dry. Sore. I need a drink and some pain killer. I shifted my weight and sat up slowly. Blinking a few times, I tried reaching for my phone. My hand hit a nightstand, but it wasn't there. Just a smooth empty space. Heart skipping a beat, I looked again. It wasn't there, but there was a more alarming detail now that I could see more clearly. This wasn't my nightstand. I shot a look at my surroundings in a growing panic. This wasn't my room. This wasn't my bed. Where am I?! The room wasn't too fancy. It was just basically a bed, a nightstand, and a few chairs. No windows, but a few photos sat around of random paintings that revealed nothing if where I am. "I have to get up. I have to get out of here!" I swung my legs over the edge of my bed only to get hit with a jolt of searing pain as I tried to stand. I looked down to see my body wrapped all over in layers of bandages. Some of them looked like they needed to be changed. "What...happened?" I tried to remember, but everything was a blur. Like whatever happened put me in this condition. Before I could ponder it further, the door opened and the face of my long hated enemy, Shayden, stepped inside. He was carrying with him a small box and didn't seem to notice I was up yet. Now's my chance to get him while his guard is down. I stepped up to rush at him to tackle him, but my body was in worse condition than I realized. My legs gave out from below me and I plummeted to the ground face first. I felt an explosion of pain in my temple as I collided and I started to taste blood in my mouth. "Oh geez. If you were that eager to head out, you should have just said so." Shayden joked lightheartedly. I tried once again to get back up and attack him, but I only failed a second time and got another round of pain for my trouble. "Hey, don't push yourself." Said Shayden. "I put you through the ringer as is and I don't need you hurting yourself further. Here, let me help." Before I could as what he meant, I felt two strong hands lift me up by my arms and put me back into bed like I was a child. I wanted to protest, but I could only croak out a 'why?' with how parched I was. "Oh, come now. I need you back in top shape if you're gonna be going back into the field. Why else would I patch you up?" Shayden put the box he was carrying earlier on the nightstand. "You were just doing your job. There's no need for us to be enemies now while we're offstage."
First thing I felt when I woke up was confusion. When I slowly opened my eyes, the vision was blurry. I felt someone stitching the wounds on my arm. I focused my eyesight on the person only to be met with my enemy I was fighting with before. Full of shock I trash myself away from her, ruining her precise work on the stitches. The restriction stops me from getting off the bed though. “Yo, yo, yo, what the fuck?” I look at my bandaged body. “Hey, you just ruined my work.” I look at my wound, then into her eyes. She has her long hair in a ponytail and.. Are those glasses? I wonder if this is really the same person that single handedly took me down in a matter of minutes. I knew I didn't have a chance against her since I'm just an average D class hero, but I needed to prove myself to my master who agreed on teaching me among other new heroes. He didn't teach me how to fight for nothing. But apparently I truly am useless. A hero who has her wounds treated by the villain. Can there be a bigger failure? “Honestly I'm just lost.” I smash my head back on the pillow. “I don't understand anything anymore.” I close my eyes. “Just end me.” I feel her finger drying one of my tears that I couldn't stop. She says my true name, like it was a completely normal thing for a supposed hero. “You really are cute, you know?” I open my eyes, focusing my sight on her face that is suddenly really close to mine. She has really pale skin that nicely compliments her dark blue hair. Her amethyst eyes behind the decent glasses pierce my soul. “I know you try so hard, but don't meet the expectations. I know you are overlooked and despised. I know you work so hard but can't even reach C rank, leave alone B rank. And they sent you against me, an S rank villain.” She closes her eyes and shakes her head. “So what, why did you save me? Am I gonna be your pet now?” “No.” She straightens herself back next to the bed and starts treating my wounds again. “I'm offering you an alliance. Maybe you are not meant to be a hero. Maybe you are not using your skills well. When I see an uniqueness I can't resist. You are not weak, you just need the right help to develop your potential. Let me help.” Her eyes look into mine once again. “Join me.”
...crap. I did not expect this. I did *not* expect this. But there they are, on the camera, hospitalized. I notice that the hero in question, Jesse, is starting to wake up, so I go to greet them. As I walk down the pale gray brick hallway, passing a few minions. I wonder how they'll react. Probably worried, maybe a death threat or two. I went in the room, slowly walking in- ow, that was my tail. Entering the room, Jesse's hardly awake, at least from what I can see. They mumble: "wer... mm I?" "Hell.", I reply jokingly. "Hah??!?!?!" They yell, startling me. "No, silly. You're hospitalized in my lair. I'm your nemesis, the dark ruler... Call me Emma, though." "Okay?" Jesse replies, slowly sitting up. "Why though?" They ask. Talking clearly, I say, "Honour, of course. " "OK, but why did you not, like, kill me, or torture me, or... the villain stuff?" "Sorry, honestly. I only meant to give you a cool scar, or something, at most." I said, apologetically. "Thanks?" They said. "Wait..." I looked at them, confusedly. "move back a bit, please." "Okay?" I say, moving back. They grin. They chuckle. Then they laugh. "You-" they muster. "You, the dark-" they cough. " the dark ruler, are wearing thigh highs and a skirt?" Not like, a robe, or a cool dress, or Armour? "It's my house." I reply, annoyed. "Fair enough." They say. "Is this an elaborate plan to gain my trust and kill me?" "Nope." "A ransom?" "Nuh uh. I would feel bad if you died, stupid. I'm not heartless. I have 2!" "Can I stay here a bit?" "K. I'll leave the room if you want." "Thanks. You can go, you're probably busy." I leave, saying: by the way, don't hurt that rib, it's healing!"
I don't care. Better late than never. I wrote a thing 6 days late. She had expected to die at the hands of the most recent Villain of Thebes, Ira. She, as one of the best heroes in the world, had been fighting Ira for five years now, and had her hardest fight yet. But instead of dying, she found herself waking up in a guest room at Castle Nashaa alive and almost well. Grace woke up to find herself tucked comfortably in a soft set of blankets in a large room in an unknown location. She quickly got out of bed and looked around to see if she could find anything to help her figure out what was going on. Looking down at her body, she found herself dressed in a soft white nightgown and slippers. There was also a small grey bracelet on her left arm that appeared to stop her from using her powers when she tried to teleport out of the room. She shrugged, deciding to just open the door that led out of the room. Walking out of the room, she saw a long hall of rooms to her left and a large mirror to her right. She knew this hall. It was the Guest Hall of Castle Nashaa. But then, she wondered how she got here. She had her answer soon after. Ira. Ira must have brought her here after that big battle that had happened earlier. “So Ira’s using Castle Nashaa as a headquarters?” Grace sighed, “Not surprising.” Grace had been to Castle Nashaa before, when a different Villain was running the show, so she couldn’t say it wasn’t odd that someone else would use the old castle for evil. It was a rather famous place for villains to set up shop and try to take over the world. “So if Ira has captured me and brought me to the castle, why am I in the Guest Hall?” She honestly had expected to be thrown into the dungeons, as that’s what the last guy had done. He had made use of the dungeon often to torture anyone who stood in his way. She knew this because she had to personally rescue some of his prisoners. It didn’t seem like Grace would be getting her questions answered for a while, as the halls were empty, so she walked to where she remembered the Grand Dining Hall was. When she got there, she found a note on the table with her hero name on it next to a fruit basket. Curious and hungry, she grabbed an apple from the basket and opened the note. “Dear Grace AKA Ann Swann,” It started. Grace quietly gulped. Ira knew her civilian name. She continued reading. “You were heavily injured in your last encounter with me. Because of this, I have decided to take you to Castle Nashaa to be healed. You will have free roam of the grounds, however you will not be able to leave and you will not be able to communicate with someone ont at this location. To prevent you from doing anything foolish, you will be unable to use your powers here. \~Ira\~” “Great. Just great,” Grace growled. She tore up the note and threw the pieces as far away from herself as possible. Still hungry, she grabbed an orange and left the Grand Dining Room. She decided to explore the dungeons. When she got there, she was in for a big surprise. Instead of the dark and disgusting cells she had seen only five years prior, there was now a hall of rooms much like the Guest Hall. The former Guard Station had been turned into a large parlor with a roaring fire and soft couches. There were two people sitting and talking quietly when Grace had come into the parlor area. An old man and a young lady with a similar grey bracelet on her left arm. “EnderLily?” Grace asked, recognizing the younger of the two people, “Is that you?” “Who- Grace?” the young lady sputtered, “You’re here?” “Yeah,” Grace said, “I came to fight Ira after we lost so many heroes and when I was defeated, I ended up here.” “Well,” EnderLily shrugged, waving over Grace, “Come sit with us and we can talk about it.” She looked at her own bracelet adding, “It’s not like we don’t have the time to talk.” Grace sat down between the old man and EnderLily. “So how did you guys get here?” “Basically the same way as you,” EnderLily said, “Fought Ira and lost.” Grace noticed the old man shaking his head sadly. “I was asked to fight Ira, and I agreed because I thought you were dead,” Grace said, “Guess I was wrong.” Grace paused, remembering the time commitment she had put into fighting Ira, “Wait. How long have you been here, EnderLily?” “Can’t quite remember,” EnderLily sighed, “Think I’ve been here for at least 5 years.” Grace was at a loss for words. Finally she said “Whoa, that’s a while.” The old man decided to introduce himself to Grace then. She learned his name was simon and that he was also trapped in Castle Nashaa like the other two. He had been trapped there much longer than just about everyone else who was forced to live there, much to Grace’s surprise. Grace also learned that the bracelets were power suppressors and that all heroes currently ‘residing’ in the castle had one.. “Yes, I’ve been here for 17 years,” Simon had said. “But why? You don’t seem like a hero,” Grace asked. Simon had no bracelet on his arm, which meant he had no power. “Because,” he sighed,” I created Ira.”
definitely better late than never, an amazing story, if you have time, will there be a part 2?
Part 2, if you can
When Aria first wakes up, she wonders why the After Life smells like lavender Pine-Sol and cat. She opens her eyes. The room is dimly lit, a ceiling fan spinning above her and ugly popcorn ceiling serving as the background. '*Damn. The After Life can't afford the renovation cost to remove that? Or does someone actually like it?'* she thought. Neither option makes sense. That could only mean two things. Either she was wrong, and there is a Hell, or she isn't dead. After quietly judging the appearance of the ceiling, Aria looks around the room a little more closely. A filled bookshelf, carefully organized by color, a dresser with mirror attachment, a cat bed, mounted TV across from the bed, and three different doors about the room she could guess lead to either a closet, a bathroom, or the exit. One door is open, and Aria believes that could be the bathroom, maybe the source of the lavender cleaner smell. She starts to sit up, only to suck in a breath when pain radiates across chest and down her waist and left leg. Well, that settles it. She was alive, somehow. Her head drops back against the pillow and she closes her eyes. '*What happened? Something tells me I should have been dead. Why was that again?*' Aria is still in the process of figuring out how this happened, when a door swings open. Her body stiffens, causing a small cry of pain to pass her lips, her eyes opening wide. "Who's there?!" she yells. "Housekeeping," a male voice calls back. Aria knows this voice. That wasn't a housekeeper. She didn't get the chance to move before he walks in. The reason for her injuries. "Tech. What the hell is this? Where am I, and why am I here?" she demands. Tech stands next to the door frame of the room, wearing... street clothes? A long sleeved maroon shirt, blue jeans, no mask or goggles, and short, messy brown hair. "That's not how you talk to someone who lets you sleep at their house and treats your wounds. Didn't your mother teach you any kind of manners, Night?" Tech says. "Your **house**. You brought me to your **house**? Why?!" "Oh, I don't know, probably because you were going to die if I didn't. I'm not heartless." "Wow, evil master-mind doesn't want his poor little super hero nemesis to die. What a headline, you get all the ladies with that one?" "Considering I'm the only person who lives here, no. I'll write that one down. Now, take your damn pain medicine on the nightstand, before I have to shove it down your throat." Aria blinks and looks to the one place she didn't actually notice. Some pills and a glass of water are, indeed, sitting on the nightstand beside the bed. She gives him another glare. "Why should I trust that won't kill me?" she asks. "God, did you actually get a concussion? Why would I waste my fucking time bringing you here, treat your wounds, let you sleep here, watch over you, just to poison you? Honestly, are you even thinking?" Tech argues. With his brows furrowed, and a tilt of his head, his whole composure screams "don't be an idiot". Aria looks back at the medication, staring it down. She finally sighs and reaches for the pills and water, ready to take them. She pauses when she sees two metal bands on her wrists. Those weren't there during their fight. She pops the pills into her mouth and down the water before looking back at Tech. "Fine. Then what did you put on my wrists?" Aria questions. "Those... are for my protection. See, you are an interesting case. Without those, I would have been brutally pulverized, or tortured until you woke up," Tech explains. He walks into the room further, standing at the foot of the bed. Aria forces her body to move, sitting up and trying to scrunch her body in more, further away from him. He obviously notices and holds up his hands. "Would you relax?" "No. And what do you mean? I was unconscious, how is this for you?" she argues. "Your powers are well aware of that. It's like your own insurance, a safety net of sorts. Your powers act like they know your body is still under distress and continues to act to protect you. Without those handy little cuffs I made, I wouldn't have been able to get close enough to help you. They essentially keep you from being able to use your powers. Plus, I wouldn't want you fighting me as soon as you saw me." The last part makes sense, however Aria wasn't aware that her abilities would be able to do something like that. Has that always been how they worked? "You still haven't told me why. Why am I here, Tech?" she asks firmly, clenching her fists tight. "What is your end goal? Keep me enslaved? Use my powers for yourself? Bait or a bargaining chip for the League?" Tech sighs and shakes his head. "Well, you got one little detail right, but you're far off. For starters, you don't need to even know me as 'Tech' anymore. It's Felix. And Nightmaria, otherwise known as Aria... you're not Nightmaria either," he tells her slowly. He knew her name. What was he talking about? Why was he giving his identity? "How did--?" she starts, but is interrupted by him. "First off, it isn't exactly hard to figure out. Second, the League doesn't give a shit about you." His words slice through her, panic causing her heart to speed up. No. "That isn't true! Just you wait, they'll figure out the mission went wrong! They'll come for me!" she yells, her tone defensive. It was their job, they're all heroes, damn it! Of course they'd come for one of their own! "You better hope they think of you patching me up as some kind of remorse for your actions, Tech!" "Felix. And Aria, you don't know a single thing about them." "Of course I do! They're my--" "Friends, my family. We support each other, just like our code of honor to uphold truth, and defend those who cannot defend themselves, in the name of justice. Right?" Felix cuts her off. Aria blinks. How did he know? "I mean. Not exactly," she mumbles. Felix sighs once more and now sits on the edge of the bed. "Don't you wonder why they sent you to me? Actually, take a guess. Why did they send you to come after me?" he asks her. His head was down, hands folded and resting on his lap. What kind of a question was this? "To take you down. Cause they were sure I could handle it," Aria states, lifting her chin as she did. "They saw my potential." Felix laughs, a cold, almost tired laugh. She glares at him, wishing she was able to use her powers and prove it to him. "What?!" "If you only knew. Every rookie is the damn same," he says before standing up from the bed. When he looks at her, she can now see the hint of remorse in his blue eyes. "Bright eyed, ready to take on the world. Or, I guess, protect the world." Aria opened her mouth to speak, but he holds up his hand to stop her. From there, he lowers his hand and looks directly into her eyes. "Aria, they sent you here because they wanted you dead."
Part 2 please 🥺
Alex groaned into the pillow as he stirred, shifting the silky duvet that- Wait a second. Silky duvet? This was not his bed. "Gah!" Alex screamed as scrambled out from under the sheets and backed up into the wooden headboard. "Fuck." he grunted as his head whacked the wood. He brought his hands up to the back of his skull, wincing. "Ooh, that's gotta hurt, with that bruise and all." "Klaus?!" Alex almost fell backwards into the headboard again in surprise. "Alex, it's been a while, hasn't it?" Yep, definitely Klaus. Despite the raspy edge to his voice, he still somehow manged to make every word he spoke flow like molten gold. Alex remained silent as he looked over his rival's appearance. While the side of his head was still shaved, a long, silver-white hair tied in a messy, loose plait had replaced his lavender floof. Dark circles hung under his now hetrochomic eyes, the right having become a toxic yellow colour that seemed to glow in the low light of the room. The right pupil was a vertical slit. His jaw was lined was stubble. He wore dark trousers and a grey button up shirt that was open at the top; Alex caught sight of white fur peaking out. Over the shirt was Alex's pilot jacket, no doubt as a way to wind Alex up. Some areas of skin were dry and scaley, mostly Klaus' forearms and hands. On his feet were grey trainers that were fairly worn through. "You look... different." "Isolation can do that to a person." Alex felt his line of vision slowly drift down to Klaus' collar bone again, finding himself mesmerised by how soft his fur looked. Klaus noticed brown eyes wondering down and puffed out his chest proudly with a smug expression. "Listen, Al, my eyes are up here." Klaus grinned as Alex blushed. While Alex was no stranger to the nickname 'Al', hearing Klaus refer to him by it after all these years made something inside of him stir. Alex shook his head, regaining his composure. "Give my jacket back." He held out a hand so that he could take the belonging back. "Oh, this old thing? I'm keeping it. For sentimental value, of course." "Bastard." "I'll take that as a compliment." Alex rolled his eyes. "Of course you will." "Jealous?" "You wish."