invalidstories

About me:

Hello! I’m Sage, a 21-year-old writer and student who uses they/them pronouns. I’ve always identified as asexual, and writing has been my lifelong passion. I’ve even turned it into a side hustle, selling my work to those who appreciate it.

When I’m not writing, I love to draw. It’s my creative escape, a way to unwind and let my imagination run free. You’ll often find me doodling in my sketchbook or experimenting with new mediums, though it’s more of a hobby than anything else.

That said, most days I lack the motivation for either and end up binge-reading instead. It’s the perfect hobby for me—probably the closest I’ll ever get to teleportation.

Personality-wise, I’m a loving, carefree soul who loves finding beauty in the world and spreading positivity. But some days, like a werewolf under the moonlight, I turn into a villain. evil laugh

On my blog, you’ll find snippets of my writing—short stories, poetry, essays—and occasional glimpses of my artwork (if I feel confident enough to share it). I also reblog things that inspire me. I welcome asks and DMs about almost anything, so don’t hesitate to reach out! Feel free to use my work as inspiration or prompts, and you can reblog it with proper credit. I’m always open to feedback on how I can improve.

When it comes to ethics, honesty and authenticity matter deeply to me, and I strive to respect others’ perspectives. I’m not comfortable creating explicit sexual content, hate speech, or highly controversial topics like politics or religion. I also avoid body horror, gore, or extreme violence. Reposting without credit is a no-go, but you’re welcome to continue any stories I write.

If you’re looking for a blend of writing, art, and a sprinkle of sunshine—like the perfect cup of coffee after a cold day—you’ve come to the right place. Welcome to my little corner of the internet; I’m so glad you’re here. :)

Potion Problems

This was very fun to write lol! Hope this is what you had in mind.

Warnings: Potions

The villain had one job; steal the enchanted amulet, knock out the hero, and escape. Simple. Clean. Professional.

Instead, they were currently hiding behind a marble pillar, palms sweaty, heart pounding like a war drum, because oh no, oh no, oh no

The hero looked good.

Not just their usual brand of infuriatingly attractive. No, this was something far worse. The way their gloves flexed when they cracked their knuckles, the way their stupidly perfect hair caught the light, that smug smirk that should have been grating but now sent the villain’s stomach into frantic somersaults—it was unbearable.

"You’re really bad at hiding," the hero called out, voice laced with amusement.

The villain pressed their forehead against the cool marble. "Shut up, I’m strategizing."

"From behind a pillar?"

"Yes! Pillars are—very strategic—oh hell—" The villain peeked out and immediately regretted it, because the hero had taken a step closer, and wow, their eyes were so blue, and—

ABORT. ABORT.

They lunged sideways, only to tangle themselves in their own cape and face-plant directly into a potted fern.

The hero’s laughter was bright and far too delighted. "Okay, what’s wrong with you today?"

"Nothing!" The villain’s voice was muffled by leaves. "I’m fine!"

Strong hands gripped their shoulders, hauling them upright. The villain refused to meet the hero’s gaze, but they could feel the way those eyes studied them, could practically hear the smirk in their voice.

"You’re bright red."

"Allergies."

"To me?"

The villain’s traitorous mouth opened, then closed. "...Maybe."

A beat of silence. Then, impossibly soft, the hero murmured, "...Huh. Cute."

The villain’s brain short-circuited.

"This is the worst," they groaned, covering their burning face with their hands.

Masterlist

Chained

Warnings: Forcing, threats, mentions of bombs, and fighting

The villain’s hands trembled as they planted the last explosive charge, their breath coming in shallow gasps. The warehouse was rigged to collapse, another "mission" completed under the Supervillain’s command. Another sin to carry.

They never wanted this.

But choice had been stolen from them long ago.

"Disobey me," the Supervillain had whispered once, fingers digging into their shoulder like claws, "and I’ll make sure you watch as I burn everything you ever loved to the ground. Starting with her."

So they obeyed. They stole. They sabotaged. They lied.

And with every order followed, a piece of them withered.

The Hero caught them in the aftermath of a bank heist, the villain’s mask cracked, their shoulders slumped in exhaustion. The fight was half-hearted, both of them knew it.

"You don’t have to do this," the Hero said, lowering their weapon. Their voice wasn’t angry. It was knowing.

The villain let out a hollow laugh. "You have no idea what you’re talking about."

"I think I do." The Hero stepped closer, eyes sharp but not unkind. "The explosives at the docks last week, rigged to detonate away from civilians. The stolen tech you ‘accidentally’ left behind for us to trace. I wouldn't expect it for someone who didn't want to be caught."

A lump rose in the villain’s throat. They wanted to scream. To beg. To say, "Help me."

Instead, they whispered, "It doesn’t matter. He owns me. There’s no way out."

The Hero’s gaze hardened. "Yes, there is." A hand extended to pull them up. "Tell me who’s making you do this."

For the first time in years, the villain felt something dangerous.

Hope.

Masterlist

I Can't Hate You Even if I Try

Thank you so much! :) Warning: Injuries, blood, betrayal

The safehouse was quiet except for the crackle of the fireplace and the villain’s labored breathing. Blood seeped through the bandages wrapped around her ribs, staining the hero’s hands crimson as he pressed fresh gauze to the wound.

She laughed weakly, her voice hoarse. "Funny, isn’t it? You spent months pretending to care about me. Now here you are, actually playing nurse."

The hero’s jaw tightened. He’d replayed their last conversation a thousand times, the way her face had crumpled when he’d confessed his mission, the way she’d whispered "Was any of it real?" before vanishing into the night.

"Don’t talk," he muttered, securing the bandage. "You’ll reopen the injury."

She grabbed his wrist, her nails digging in. "Answer me. Why save me now? After everything?"

Outside, rain lashed against the windows. The supervillain they’d been sent to kill was still out there, but for once, the hero wasn’t thinking about the mission. He was thinking about the way she’d shoved him out of the sniper’s line of fire, taking the bullet meant for him.

"Because you didn’t hesitate," he admitted, his thumb brushing her knuckles. "Even though you had every right to let me die."

Her grip loosened. The fury slipped for a second, just enough for him to see the old hurt beneath. "Stupid," she murmured, closing her eyes. "I should’ve left you to bleed."

The hero exhaled, his forehead resting against hers. "Yeah. You should have."

Masterlist

Warning: Pinning, unmasking

The abandoned warehouse was eerily silent, save for the faint drip of water from a broken pipe and the sharp, uneven breaths of the hero. She was pinned against the cold concrete wall, the villain’s gloved hand gripping her wrist tightly, his other arm braced beside her head. His smirk was infuriating, his eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and something darker, something she couldn’t quite place.

“Let me go,” she hissed, twisting in his grip, but he only tightened his hold, leaning in closer. His breath was warm against her cheek, his voice a low, velvety purr.

“Now, now, darling,” he said, his tone dripping with mock sympathy. “Is that any way to treat someone who’s just trying to have a little fun?”

She kicked out, her boot connecting with his shin, but he barely flinched. Instead, he chuckled, the sound sending a shiver down her spine. “Feisty as ever. I’ve always liked that about you.”

“You’re insane,” she spat, her free hand clawing at his arm. “Let. Me. Go.”

He tilted his head, his smirk widening. “Oh, I don’t think so. Not until you do something for me.”

She froze, her eyes narrowing. “What do you want?”

His gaze dropped to her mask, the sleek black fabric that hid her identity from the world. Slowly, deliberately, he reached up, his fingers brushing against the edge of it. She jerked her head away, but he caught her chin, his grip firm but not painful.

“Take the mask off,” he said, his voice soft, almost coaxing. “Let me see you.”

Her heart pounded in her chest, her breath coming faster. “No.”

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, “Why not? Afraid I’ll like what I see?”

She swallowed hard, her mind racing. This was dangerous. Too dangerous. But the way he was looking at her, the way his voice curled around her like smoke, made it hard to think straight.

“You’re not getting my mask,” she said, her voice trembling despite her best efforts to keep it steady.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes locking onto hers. “Darling,” he said, his tone almost playful, “you’re not in a position to negotiate.”

She glared at him, her jaw clenched. “You’re not getting it.”

He sighed, feigning disappointment. “Stubborn as always. But you know what? I think I’ll take it anyway.”

Before she could react, his hand darted up, his fingers hooking under the edge of her mask. She gasped, her hands flying up to stop him, but he was faster, yanking it off in one swift motion.

For a moment, they both froze. The villain’s smirk faded, replaced by something softer, something almost… reverent. “Well,” he said quietly, his eyes tracing her features. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”

She felt exposed, vulnerable in a way she hadn’t in years. But she refused to let him see her fear. “Happy now?” she snapped, her voice sharp.

He tilted his head, his thumb brushing against her cheek. “Not yet,” he murmured. “But I’m getting there.”

She opened her mouth to retort, but he cut her off, his lips crashing against hers in a kiss that was equal parts possessive and tender. She froze, her mind reeling, before she shoved him away with all her strength.

He stumbled back, his smirk returning as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Worth it,” he said, his voice dripping with satisfaction.

She glared at him, her chest heaving. “You’re going to regret that.”

He laughed, the sound echoing through the empty warehouse. “Oh, darling,” he said, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “I already do.”

Masterlist

The Rescue You Didn’t Ask For

Thank you for the request, hope you like it!

Warning: Mention of broken bones, injuries, blood, destruction, kidnapping and violence

The hero stumbled through the alley, their breath coming in ragged gasps. Blood dripped from a gash on their forehead, staining the pavement beneath their boots. Their ribs screamed with every step, and their left arm hung uselessly at their side. But they couldn’t stop. Not yet. Not while the city was still in danger.

Behind them, the sounds of chaos echoed—screams, explosions, the distant wail of sirens. The villain’s latest scheme was in full swing, and the hero was the only one standing in their way. Or at least, they were supposed to be. Right now, they could barely stand at all.

“You’re in no condition to fight,” a voice said, smooth and familiar. The hero froze, their head snapping up to see the villain leaning casually against the alley wall, their arms crossed. “Honestly, it’s embarrassing to watch.”

The hero glared, though the effect was somewhat ruined by the way they swayed on their feet. “Get out of my way. I don’t have time for this.”

The villain pushed off the wall, their expression unreadable. “You’re bleeding. Badly. And unless I’m mistaken, you’ve got at least two broken ribs. Maybe three. Do you really think you can take me on like this?”

The hero didn’t answer. Instead, they lunged forward, their fist swinging in a clumsy arc. The villain sidestepped easily, catching the hero by the wrist and pulling them close.

“Stop,” the villain said, their voice low and firm. “You’re going to get yourself killed.”

The hero struggled weakly, their strength fading fast. “I have to… stop them…”

“Them?” The villain’s brow furrowed. “You’re not even fighting me right now, are you? Who’s out there?”

The hero didn’t answer, their knees buckling as the adrenaline finally gave out. The villain caught them before they could hit the ground, their arms surprisingly gentle.

“You’re impossible,” the villain muttered, though there was no real anger in their voice. “Stubborn, reckless, and utterly impossible.”

The hero’s vision blurred, their words slurring as they tried to speak. “Have to… save them…”

The villain sighed, adjusting their grip on the hero. “You’re not saving anyone like this. And I can’t have my favorite hero dying on me. So, for once in your life, just… stop.”

Before the hero could protest, the villain pressed a small device to their neck. A sharp sting, and then darkness.

When the hero woke, they were lying on a soft couch, a blanket draped over them. The room was dimly lit, the air warm and quiet. For a moment, they thought they were dreaming. Then they saw the villain sitting in a chair nearby, flipping through a book.

“Where…?” the hero croaked, their throat dry.

“My safehouse,” the villain said, not looking up. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

The hero tried to sit up, but a sharp pain in their side made them gasp. The villain was at their side in an instant, a hand on their shoulder.

“Don’t,” they said firmly. “You’re still healing.”

The hero blinked up at them, confused. “Why… why are you doing this?”

The villain hesitated, their expression softening just slightly. “Because someone has to keep you alive. And apparently, that someone is me.”

The hero stared at them, their mind struggling to process the words. The villain, their enemy, the one they’d fought countless times, was… helping them?

“You kidnapped me,” the hero said finally.

The villain smirked. “I prefer to think of it as a strategic relocation for your own wellbeing.”

The hero couldn’t help it—they laughed, though it quickly turned into a wince. “You’re unbelievable.”

“So I’ve been told,” the villain said, sitting back in their chair. “Now, rest. The city can survive without you for one night. And if it can’t… well, maybe it doesn’t deserve you.”

The hero wanted to argue, to insist they were fine, but the warmth of the blanket and the steady rhythm of their breathing made it hard to stay awake. As their eyes drifted shut, they thought they felt the villain’s hand brush against their forehead, their voice a soft murmur.

“You’re going to be the death of me, hero.”

Masterlist

Hey everyone! I’m starting a tag list for my writing. If you’d like to be tagged whenever I post writing, just comment below or reblog this post. Taglist so far: (let me know if I missed) @neon-kazoo - @sausages-things - @trash-queen-af - @person1234hi - @sublimepainterwitch - @Mailo_Blue

He just lets them think they can beat him.

Then, something happens (maybe they cross a line, and one of the heroes tries to stop their team from crossing that line but they don't listen) where the supervillain shows them just how powerful he actually is?:

Thanks for reading!! Sorry it you don’t do requests!

Hey! I'm soo sorry I thought I posted this but I ended up finding it in my drafts, forgotten about. I don't know how It happened. I'm not sure if I should post this but here is it anyway. Sorry again

Warnings: Destruction, injuries, threats

The rookie heroes stood in a loose circle, their breathing heavy, their costumes scuffed and torn. In the center of the room, the supervillain lounged on a makeshift throne of rubble, his legs crossed, his chin resting on one hand. He looked bored.

“Is that all you’ve got?” he drawled, flicking a piece of debris off his sleeve. “I expected more from the city’s finest.”

The leader of the group, a fiery young hero named Blaze, stepped forward, her fists crackling with energy. “We’re not done yet,” she snapped. “You’re going down.”

The villain raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. “Oh, I’m shaking.”

The team lunged at him, their movements clumsy but determined. Blaze sent a wave of fire in his direction, while another hero, Vortex, tried to trap him in a whirlwind. The villain dodged effortlessly, his movements almost lazy, as if he were playing a game. He countered with a flick of his wrist, sending Blaze stumbling back with a gust of wind.

“Careful,” he said, his tone mocking. “You might hurt yourself.”

The youngest of the group, a wide-eyed hero named Alice, hung back, her hands glowing faintly. She watched the fight with growing unease. Something about the villain’s demeanor—the way he seemed to be holding back, the way he almost smiled when they attacked—made her stomach twist.

“Guys,” she called out, her voice trembling. “I don’t think this is a good idea. We should—”

“Stay out of it, Alice!” Blaze barked, sending another blast of fire at the villain. “We’ve got this.”

The villain sidestepped the attack, his smirk widening. “Do you, though?”

Alice’s unease grew. She could feel the tension in the air, the way the villain’s energy seemed to shift, like a storm gathering on the horizon. “Blaze, please,” she tried again. “He’s not even trying. We’re pushing him too far.”

But Blaze wasn’t listening. None of them were. They were too caught up in the thrill of the fight, too convinced of their own strength. And then it happened.

Vortex, in a reckless move, aimed a powerful blast of wind at the villain, sending a chunk of the ceiling crashing down toward a group of civilians who had been hiding in the corner. Alice’s eyes widened in horror. “No!” she screamed, diving to shield them, but she knew she wouldn’t be fast enough.

The villain’s expression changed in an instant. His smirk vanished, replaced by a cold, hard glare. With a flick of his hand, he froze the debris midair, his power crackling like lightning. The room fell silent.

“That,” he said, his voice low and dangerous, “was a mistake.”

The air around him seemed to darken, his energy surging as he rose to his feet. The rookie heroes stumbled back, their bravado crumbling under the weight of his presence. Even Blaze looked shaken.

“I’ve been playing nice,” the villain said, his voice like ice. “But you’ve crossed a line.”

He raised his hand, and the debris shot back toward Vortex, pinning him to the wall. Blaze tried to attack, but the villain caught her wrist, his grip like iron. “You think you’re heroes?” he snarled. “You’re children playing dress-up.”

Alice stepped forward, her hands raised in surrender. “Please,” she said, her voice trembling. “We’re sorry. We didn’t mean—”

“You didn’t think,” the villain interrupted, his gaze piercing. “And that’s the problem.”

He released Blaze, sending her stumbling back. “Consider this a lesson,” he said, his voice cold. “Next time, think twice before you bite off more than you can chew.”

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving the rookie heroes shaken and humbled. Nova watched him go, her heart pounding. She had always known the villain was powerful, but seeing it up close—seeing the raw, terrifying force he had been holding back—was something else entirely.

As the dust settled, she turned to her team. “We need to be better,” she said quietly. “Or next time, he might not let us walk away.”

Why not write about a supervillain inviting the hero to a dinner to a fancy restaurant. The hero would accept and he would be either dumbfounded or happy to be treated well (or any feeling you would like but something strangely positive). The supervillain would be a gentleman, the hero would be able to eat what he truly wants and not what is cheaper (broke hero perhaps?)…

I feel like I’ve been super specific already so I hope you enjoyed the prompt and if you pick this prompt, hopefully you’ll have a good time writing it.

Dinner with the Villain

This was so fancy to write lol, I love how it was more specific. I hope this is what you had in mind.

Warnings: Poor living conditions

The hero stood outside the restaurant, staring up at the glowing sign with a mix of disbelief and apprehension. Le Clair de Lune was the kind of place they’d only ever seen in movies—crystal chandeliers, white tablecloths, waiters in tailored suits. Not exactly the kind of spot you’d expect to be invited to by your arch-nemesis.

But here they were, clutching the embossed invitation in their hand, the words “Join me for dinner. 8 PM sharp. No capes.” scrawled in the villain’s elegant handwriting. They’d almost thrown it away, convinced it was some kind of trap. But curiosity—and the gnawing hunger that came with living on instant noodles—had won out.

The moment they stepped inside, a waiter greeted them with a polite smile. “Ah, you must be our guest of honor. Right this way.”

The hero followed, their boots squeaking awkwardly on the polished floor. They felt out of place in their patched-up jacket and scuffed jeans, but the staff didn’t seem to notice. Or if they did, they were too professional to comment.

The villain was already seated at a table near the back, dressed in a tailored suit that probably cost more than the hero’s entire apartment. They looked up as the hero approached, a smirk playing on their lips.

“You came,” the villain said, their voice smooth and amused. “I wasn’t sure you would.”

“Yeah, well,” the hero muttered, sliding into the chair across from them. “Free food is free food.”

The villain chuckled, gesturing to the menu. “Order whatever you like. My treat.”

The hero hesitated, their eyes scanning the menu. The prices were astronomical, the kind of numbers that made their stomach twist. But the villain had said whatever you like, and the hero wasn’t about to pass up the chance to eat something that didn’t come out of a microwave.

They ordered the most expensive steak on the menu, along with a side of truffle fries and a dessert they couldn’t even pronounce. The villain raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment, simply sipping their wine as the waiter took the order.

“So,” the hero said once they were alone, “what’s the catch?”

The villain tilted their head, feigning innocence. “Catch?”

“Yeah. You don’t just invite me to a fancy dinner for no reason. What’s your angle?”

The villain leaned back in their chair, their smirk widening. “Can’t a villain simply enjoy the company of their favorite adversary?”

The hero snorted. “Favorite adversary? You tried to blow up my apartment last week.”

“And yet, here you are,” the villain said, gesturing to the table. “Eating my food, drinking my wine. Clearly, you’ve forgiven me.”

“I haven’t forgiven you,” the hero shot back, though there was no real bite to their words. “I’m just… curious.”

The villain’s expression softened, just slightly. “Perhaps I’m curious too. We’re always fighting, always at each other’s throats. I thought it might be… refreshing to see what happens when we’re not.”

The hero didn’t know how to respond to that. They were saved by the arrival of their food, the aroma of perfectly cooked steak making their mouth water. They dug in without hesitation, savoring every bite. It was the best meal they’d had in years.

The villain watched them eat, their expression unreadable. “You know,” they said after a moment, “you don’t have to live like this.”

The hero paused, a forkful of steak halfway to their mouth. “Like what?”

“Like you’re always one paycheck away from disaster,” the villain said, their voice surprisingly gentle. “You’re a hero. You save lives. And yet, you can’t even afford a decent meal. It’s… tragic.”

The hero set their fork down, their appetite suddenly gone. “What are you saying?”

The villain leaned forward, their eyes gleaming. “I’m saying you deserve better. And maybe… I can help with that.”

The hero stared at them, their mind racing. This had to be a trick. Some kind of manipulation. But the villain’s expression was sincere, their offer genuine. And for the first time, the hero wondered if maybe, just maybe, they didn’t have to do this alone.

“Why?” they asked finally. “Why would you help me?”

The villain smiled, a rare, genuine smile. “Because even villains have their soft spots. And because… I think you’re worth it.”

The hero didn’t know what to say to that. So they didn’t say anything. They just picked up their fork and kept eating, the weight of the villain’s words settling over them like a warm blanket.

For the first time in a long time, they felt… hopeful.

Idk this has been buzzing around my head for a while now and I’d love to see whatever you do with it! 💗💕

Lies of Reformation

Ooh this was interesting to write. Sorry it took so long, I saw your request twice but my writing wasn't writing. Hope you like it!

Warnings: Mentions of disappearance and experimenting

The hero sat at their desk, the glow of their computer screen casting harsh shadows across the room. They were supposed to be reviewing mission reports, but their mind kept wandering back to the files they’d stumbled across earlier. Files that didn’t add up. Files that made their stomach churn.

The agency’s reformation program was supposed to be a beacon of hope, a second chance for villains who wanted to turn their lives around. But the numbers didn’t lie. Of the dozens of villains who had entered the program, only a handful had “graduated.” The rest… well, the rest had simply disappeared. Officially, they’d dropped out or relocated. Unofficially, the hero wasn’t so sure.

A knock at their door pulled them from their thoughts. “Come in,” they called, closing the files quickly.

The door opened, and a young villain—no, a kid—stepped inside. They couldn’t have been older than seventeen, their face still round with youth, their eyes wide and nervous. They wore the standard-issue uniform of the reformation program, the bright white fabric looking out of place against their hunched shoulders.

“Uh, they said I should report to you,” the kid mumbled, avoiding eye contact. “For, uh, mentorship or whatever.”

The hero’s chest tightened. They’d heard about this one—a rookie villain who’d gotten in over their head, caught trying to rob a bank with nothing but a homemade gadget and a lot of bravado. The agency had scooped them up, touting the reformation program as their salvation. But now, seeing the kid up close, the hero couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being fed to the wolves.

“What’s your name?” the hero asked, their voice softer than they intended.

The kid hesitated. “They call me Spark.”

“Spark,” the hero repeated, nodding. “I’m—”

“I know who you are,” Spark interrupted, their voice tinged with awe. “You’re, like, the agency’s golden child.”

The hero winced at the title. Golden child. Right. If only Spark knew how tarnished that gold really was.

“Sit down,” the hero said, gesturing to the chair across from them. Spark obeyed, perching on the edge of the seat like they were ready to bolt at any moment. “How long have you been in the program?”

“A week,” Spark said, fidgeting with the hem of their sleeve. “It’s… not what I expected.”

The hero leaned forward, their voice dropping to a whisper. “What do you mean?”

Spark glanced at the door, then back at the hero. “I don’t know. It’s just… they keep asking me all these questions. About my powers, my past, my family. And they’re always watching. Like, always. It’s creepy.”

The hero’s jaw tightened. That wasn’t part of the program. At least, not the program they’d been told about.

“Have they… done anything else?” the hero asked carefully.

Spark hesitated, then shook their head. “Not yet. But I heard things. About the others. The ones who didn’t make it.”

The hero’s stomach dropped. “What did you hear?”

Spark’s voice was barely audible. “That they’re not really gone. That the agency… does things to them. Experiments or something. I don’t know. Maybe it’s just rumors, but…” They trailed off, their hands trembling.

The hero stood abruptly, their chair scraping against the floor. “Come with me.”

Spark blinked up at them. “What? Where?”

“Somewhere safe,” the hero said, grabbing their coat. “You’re not staying here.”

“But… the program. They said it’s my only chance.”

The hero knelt in front of Spark, their expression fierce. “Listen to me. You don’t need their program. You don’t need their lies. If you want to change, if you want to be better, I’ll help you. But not like this. Not here.”

Spark stared at them, their eyes wide with a mix of fear and hope. “Why? Why would you help me?”

The hero’s gaze softened. “Because someone has to. And because… I think I’ve been on the wrong side for too long.”

As they led Spark out of the office and into the night, the hero couldn’t shake the weight of what they were doing. They were breaking every rule, risking everything. But for the first time in a long time, they felt like they were doing something right.