Pearl

“I need your help.”

“And what in the whole wide-fucking-world makes you think I’ll help you?” Hero snapped back. The ropes around their sore wrists tightened as their fists clenched. “You drugged me and tied me up like a dog in a dark place and you’re asking for my help? What kind of psycho are you?”

“Can we skip this whole, ‘enemies’, ‘oh I hate you Villain’, ‘you’re insane’, blah blah blah? It’s become really repetitive and boring as of late, I’d like to get to the point--”

“You want to get to the point, alright, here’s my answer: I wouldn’t help you in a million fucking years, you shit-wipe monster. You kidnapped me! Again. You don’t ever try to ‘talk’, you just kidnap me, over and over and over, for no reason other than just to prove... something, I don’t even know what. That you have power? Well, you don’t.” 

Villain let out a short impatient sigh. “No, okay, look. I only actually ever kidnap you when you’re of use to me. It’s not like you’d listen any other way, you’d probably start throwing punches and giving long, shitty monologues about justice or whatever.”

Hero opened their mouth to retort, but Villain cut them off once more. “Ah- ah-ah,” Villain tutted, “I’m not finished speaking yet. So shut your pretty mouth and let’s stay on track here, alright?”

Hero shut their mouth with a hateful glare.

It all got deleted.

“It’s odd, but also so beautiful. It's like I can’t hear any noise but nature.” Villain’s eyes drifted to the lush ferns lining the dirt path to the brilliant, sprawling canopy above. 

Hero was caught off guard by the thick emotion in the villain’s voice. They glanced at them, intrigued to see a far away look on Villain’s face. Their skin had a soft tone of green reflected from the plantation below, and all around that forest. 

“You shouldn’t have done this.”

”You taught me.”

Mentor shook their head slowly. “No. I taught you how to reign Ataraxia, how to manipulate your natural rhythm and harness energy. I did not teach you to do this.” They gestured out the window. Below the snowy mountain bunker, a fortress lay flaming with smoke and destruction. “This… this is what a villain would do. Villain’s Name had too much influence on you over the last few months. You became too similar. Too close.”

Hero’s bottom lip trembled. “Fuck you.” The sound of their name was like a punch to the gut.

“I know it’s been hard for you. I’ve given you time. The League has given you time. But grief can only be so much of an excuse.“ Mentor paused. “Do you see, down there? The suffering you’ve caused those people?”

Hero clenched and unclenched their fists. Tears burned in their eyes as they watched thick, ebony smoke disappear with the Northern wind.

“Grief is no excuse for that.“

You don’t know the whole story. “Those people killed Villain.”

”No,” Mentor said strongly. “Villain killed themselves. They danced too close to the sun, and it cost them their life.“

”They didn’t know Supervillain was part of the Darker League. They couldn’t have known Supervillain would use them as bait. Use me.”

”You blame yourself.”

”Of course I do!” Hero yelled abruptly. It caused a shocking silence for a few seconds “Every day when I give myself the chance I think of what went wrong, of how I fucked up because it was me! I was the one who got too close to Villain and now they’re dead!” Their breath caught on the last word. Because of me, that was the truth. Their throat constricted, making it difficult to swallow.

“I’m not here to argue with you over who’s fault it was that Villain passed away.”

”Say it like it is,” whispered Hero. “They’re dead.”

”I’ll say it how I see it, and I see it as a broken-hearted kid who can’t tell the difference between justice and revenge.”

For a moment, the cold room became quiet. Hero stared at the metal floor as the burning in their eyes became tears rolling down their cheeks.

”So what if it’s revenge.”

”What?” Mentor took a step forward.

“So what if it’s revenge,” Hero repeated, bolder. “This satisfied feeling I feel right now? Knowing Supervillain’s corpse is burning in the bright red snow, becoming nothing more than ash? —“ Their mouth twisted into a sadistic grin. “Oh, it makes me feel so good. I wish I could watch as they burn. I wish the whole world could watch. “

“They are. Look around you, Hero. The world is watching, your point has been made. Your fixation on taking out all associates of Supervillain is unhealthy, it’s not justice.”

”So? Do you think I give a shit about yours or the Leagues superhero ‘morals’ or whatever bullshit you tell yourselves to feel better? This is sweet revenge, and justice is my workbench. I’ll keep swinging the hammer down until I’m satisfied.”

”This is what I’m talking about, Hero,” Mentor pressed. Their expression showed disappointment, but their eyes conveyed concern. “This revenge thing, it’s relentless. Please, stop causing all this misery and come home.”

”To where?” Hero scoffed with a dry smile. Their tears were gone. “To your sagging shack in the middle of nowhere, so you can what?— teach me more of your ‘sacred’ fighting skills? I’m not some stuck up little kid with too much to say, anymore. I’ve grown up, Mentor, and this is who I am.” On a moment of impulse, they jabbed their finger to Mentor’s chest, practically spitting the words in their face; “And you’re no thanks to that, because I raised myself, and I’ll keep living by myself. My home left this Earth four months ago, you’re no longer any matter to me.”

Anger flickered across Mentors features. Hero wondered briefly if they would strike them, maybe break the finger that was jabbing into their chest. It was for this reason they flinched when Mentor put a hand over theirs. Looking down at their hand, then back to Mentor — Hero saw the pain they’d just inflicted. It showed in the shimmer of Mentor’s eyes, the squeeze to their hand deep with candidness.

For a minute, all they did was stare at each other. Realization sunk into the hero that they may have just injured their mentor far beyond repair. Layers of anger peeled away, leaving emptiness. Regret.

They returned the squeeze to Mentor’s hands. “Love can make you grieve unhealthily.”

Empty.

”I’ll give the League your formal resignation.”

I have a history project to do that was due yesterday and it has 46 slides. It was only supposed to be 13. THIRTEEN. And why? Why would you do that? One might ask.

Well, because I’m a stupid perfectionist. A stupid, miserable, stressed perfectionist. 

“Shut up.”

“Villain--”

“Shut up! Shut up! Just shut the fuck up, okay?!” 

Dead silence hung in the air. Hero didn’t even dare to breathe. 

Evade. Adjust. Attack.

Repeat, repeat, repeat. 

Hero knew this unplanned choreography like the back of their hand. It was more than simple predictions, it was muscle memory. 

Combat with Villain always seemed to have a certain flow, a rhythm, like they were dancing. Their weapons would clash, they’d use their powers, dodge, throw some dirt-talking or teasing in the air and ignore all else. When Hero and Villain fought, it was like they were the only ones around. They were like birds playing in the sky. 

Hero recognized a bated breath from Villain, knew they were about to attack. A flicker of the eye gave away the next stance. A smirk, light flirting followed. 

It was all familiar.

“God, you are quite slow today. Did last night take a toll on you, baby? You need to sit down?”

Their voice was like heaven. Hero’s heart fluttered as they threw a few punches in a vigorous succession. The villain, of course, dodged them all. Frustration -- or was it flusteration? -- made the hero’s attacks all lightning-fast, but sloppy. 

Villain moved backwards, smirking. Just that was enough to set free butterflies in Hero’s stomach.  

Hero knew Villain was baiting them, waiting for them. They moved forward anyway, unsheathing a slim, light grey staff that extended with the press of a button. It was nearly the same height as Hero. 

“Oh, so you want to use toys? Excellent idea.” They drew out a blunt weapon of their own, which was felicitous for discapacitating, but not for severely hurting. “I’ve got all kinds.” 

It’s all a game. An act. That’s what Hero told themself. A ruse for the villains enjoyment -- they probably found it amusing when their quips caused reactions on Hero. That’s what villains did, isn’t it? Prey on the embarrassment of others, create distractions for their opponents. It should seem only like empty banter. 

Yet, even shoving all thoughts into a mental chest and locking it tight doesn’t work to keep Villain from infiltrating the Hero’s mind. It was frustrating.

“Your passion for me is flattering.”

Hero grit their teeth and put more effort into fighting. Villain got whacked hard in the leg by Hero’s staff and yelped. They blocked Hero’s attacks and saw the oncoming sweep of the leg, jumping back. 

They wiped sweat from their forehead, grinning despite any injuries. “Your concentration is adorable. Your stamina, however, is enticing.”

Hero searched for some affable undertone in that sentence, but none turned up.