#creadigol

Civilian hoped it was the former, their Spouse worked harder than they did and deserved the rest. 

Upon entering the bedroom, Civilian was delighted to see the dark shape of their spouse on the bed facing away from them. Their body was still, with only the intermittent rise and fall of their shoulder to indicate breathing. 

Civilian left the lights off and gathered their pajamas as quietly as possible. 

They elected to shower in the morning, not wanting the terrible water pressure in the pipes to wake Spouse. Even so, when finished in the bathroom, Civilian felt ten times more comfortable than before. Long t-shirt and baggy sweats letting their body feel looser than it had been in their cheap suit. 

Once again entering the bedroom, Civilian took a moment to admire the shape of their Spouse, feeling a little put out, yet relieved that Spouse had not waited up. 

Spouse had it rough lately. After a few missions gone wrong, their injuries started to add up and they had been assigned desk duty. Spouse hated sitting still (the exact opposite of Civilian) and the tension matched with the injuries caused a lot of sore muscles. Civilian helped as much as they could, massages and hot baths, but with their work schedule becoming more and more demanding, they felt they hadn’t been there as much as they should have been. 

Perhaps they would go away for a long weekend. Somewhere warm. Spouse would like that and Civilian had built up enough flyer miles to keep it in the budget. 

With a smile, Civilian crawled into bed determined to ask Spouse about it in the morning. 

As Civilian stretched across their side, Spouse hummed and stied on theirs, one arm arched up in a stretch. 

“Sorry honey, I’m just getting in. Go back to sleep,” Civilian whispered. They turned on their side to face Spouse’s back. They ran a light touch up and down Spouse’s side. “I’ll make breakfast in the morning.” 

They hoped the concession would lull Spouse back into slumber, dreaming of the pancakes Civilian made which were their favorite, but no such luck. 

“Ynomphkismoe…” Came the muffled response. And though it was unlike Spouse to talk into their pillow, Civilian understood. 

“Of course I’m going to kiss you, I just didn’t want to wake you.” 

Spouse didn’t turn on their back, also a bit unlike them, so Civilian propped themselves on one elbow, leaned close, and reached over to smooth Spouse’s hair from their cheek. 

That was when Civilian realized something was wrong. 

Civilian knew everything there was to know about their spouse. And their spouse knew everything there was to know about them. 

That included the fact that Spouse knew Civilian had a trick shoulder and thus hated holding themselves up on one arm. 

And the fact that Civilian knew what Spouse’s hair felt like. 

This was not their hair! 

The next few actions happened in a millisecond, yet to Civilian it felt like slow motion. 

They reached out and brushed the hair with their fingers. 

Their eyes grew wide as the feeling computed in their brain. 

They kept moving the hair to reveal a face that was NOT THEIR SPOUSE. 

They barely muttered a loud “WHAT THE FUC…” before the stranger flipped and pinned them to the other side of the bed. 

Civilian let out a terrified yelp, reaching to push the stranger off only for both their wrists to be trapped on either side of their head. They kicked, but the stranger quickly secured their legs by leaning both their shins on the top of Civilian’s thighs. 

“Whoa there now,” came the sickening voice. “No need to panic, we were having such a beautiful moment.” 

Civilian looked up, fear tightening their chest and panic gripping their lungs. There was little light in the bedroom, only that of the streetlights through the window, but Civilian knew that shadowed face…they knew that voice.  

“Villain…” They gasped. “Let…what…”

“Shhhhhh…” Villain let go of one wrist to trail a finger down Civilan’s lips. “Does this mean I don’t get breakfast?” 

Civilian lashed out and threw a heel punch at Villain’s face, it was like hitting a brick wall. Pain exploded down Civilan’s arm and Villain didn’t flinch in the slightest. 

Civilian screamed and their arm fell useless to their side. 

Villain tightened their grip on their other wrist, “Oh! That was a good try. Had I been anyone else that might have worked. Did sweet Spouse teach that to you?” 

Yes. Civilian thought through the terror and the pain. Spouse had wanted them to be able to defend themselves. 

Civilian turned their head away, looking at the door, hoping against hope that Spouse would walk in at any moment. 

“Now, now, no need to be so distressed,” Villain tutted. They grabbed Civilian’s face and forced their head to look at them. “I’m only doing my part of the plan. About time Hero learned the consequences of their actions.” 

What?! No! No! How did Villian know Hero’s identity? A new terror gripped Civilian, Where was Spouse?!

They stilled their squirming and looked Villain dead in the eye. “Where is Spouse?” They grunted through the grip on their jaw. “What have you done to them?!” 

Villain tipped their head back and laughed. 

“Oh nothing you sweet thing!” They said jovially. Civilian felt the weight leave their legs and wrist as Villain swung themselves off of them. Civilian hastily pushed themselves up and against the headboard. 

“When looking into their private life I never would have guessed this!” Villain gestured to Civilian on the last word. “How domestic. You even make breakfast for them when you’re the one home late!” 

Villain cut again with maniacal laughter. Civilian pushed themselves as far as they could go on the headboard as if it would create more space between them. They wondered at their chances of escaping, but knew Villain was not only super strong, but fast. Civilian’s wrist throbbed and their heart rate was dizzying. They tried to gather as much courage as possible.

“What do you want? To know Hero’s homelife? Well, you’ve seen, so now you can go!” Civilian hated how their voice shook. 

Villain sobered in less then a second. “Leave? Well, yes I suppose that is the plan…but me thinks I should stay true to my villainous ways and steal something.” 

A deep dread settled in Civilian's stomach. 

“It’s true I haven’t done anything to Hero,” Villain continued looking at them, “yet. But I’m no fool as to believe I can defeat them with only this.” Villain patted their own arm, flexing the muscle underneath. 

“No, I believe I can with this,” and then Villain was pushing into Civilian's space and with a pointed finger they jabbed Civilian in the chest, right over their heart. “I steal this, and Hero will crumble.” 

“No…” But Civilian didn’t finish. Villain latched onto their arms in an iron grip and pulled them from the bed. Securing an arm around Civilan’s waist they effortlessly picked them up and started to drag them away. Civilian kicked, screamed, and tried to grab anything they could as Villain pulled them into the hallway. 

“Ah, yes, please do make a mess,” Villain chortled, not bothered in the slightest at Civilian's efforts. “Leave a trail right to the door…I want Hero to see how much you fought.”

“What’s wrong boss?” Other Villain turned from their dimmed phone screen to look at Henchman. True to their title, the towering figure was rarely out of sight of Other Villain. Henchman had pledged and proved their loyalty to Other Villain years ago. When Supervillain not so asked for Other Villain’s involvement for this mission Henchman refused to have their boss work with the other viliantry without their support. No matter how much Other Villain told them to stay behind. 

“What?” Other Villian squinted their eyes, adjusting to the bright lights of the warehouse after staring at their phone for so long. 

Staring at a specific text for so long. 

Tonites the nite! Off to pck up a litle gem! 

Any time Villain sent such a vague text there was trouble in store. And not the usual kind that Other Villain enjoyed. 

“Your face,” clarified Henchman. “You’ve been scowling for two hours. What has Villain done now?” 

Other Villain rubbed a hand over their face. “It’s nothing they’ve done…at least I don’t think so…or nothing they’ve done yet.” 

“Oh god.” 

“I know,” Other Villain nodded. “The sooner this is done the better. I’m starting to think leaving and starting over in another city would be better than this.” Safer, surly.

Henchman’s face pinched in a mix of concern and distaste, “Don’t talk like that boss. This city’s always been yours by rights. What’s Supervillain and Villain compared to you? Nothin’ that’s what!” 

Other Villain jolted at the words and gripped Henchman hard on the arm, they hushed, “Henchman you can’t talk like that here…”

“No worries boss,” Henchman leaned close. “Supervillain left hours ago and Villain went out again this morning.” 

Still looking around the warehouse in paranoia, Other Villain felt their heart rate stay elevated. “Okay just…be careful how you talk while we’re working this. I don’t want to risk…well you know.” 

Henchman stared at Other Villain for a moment, using that unsettling ability they had at reading everything off Other Villain’s face. 

“Alright boss,” they said gently. “I’ll watch it.”

Other Villain released a shaky breath and nodded. With a pat on Henchman’s arm they went back to staring at Villain’s mysterious text. 

“So?”

Damn you, Henchman.

“So what?”

“So what’s on your phone that’s got you in a tizzy?” 

Other Villain rolled their eyes but held up their screen for Henchman to see. 

“Oh shit,” Henchman breathed. “Does this mean they actually found it? Whatcha think they’re going to take?”

Other Villain shook their head, “I have no idea. I mean it’s bad enough that they found Hero’s house and didn’t take backup with them, if that is what this means…but what could they take? What could we even use from there? A birth certificate? Family photos? Villain should have checked in before running off. We could have had a plan on what to use…”

“A family member?” 

“That’s not something…”

“No,” Henchman interrupted. Other Villain felt Henchman’s hand gently take their chin to direct their gaze to the front door of the warehouse. “A family member!”

Other Villian felt their heart drop to their stomach. 

No! This was not happening! Supervillain said reconnaissance only if Hero’s house was found! 

With a figure slumped and visibly shaking over their arm, Villain sauntered in with a cocky smile, a proud strut, and a glint in their eye that Other Villain knew only too well. 

“I come bearing gifts!” Declared Villain. At their approach of Other Villain and Henchman, they threw the figure to the ground. They landed hard, arms restrained behind them, a small and choked off cry escaped through the makeshift cloth gag. 

“Villain…what…who…” Other Villain started. The figure on the ground flinched and curled into themselves, hiding most of their face though Other Villain was positive they would see signs of Villain’s violence. Already they saw the figure’s right hand was red and swollen, knuckles bleeding sluggishly. 

“Can you believe what I got?!” Villain cackled. “You should have seen it! Hand knitted blankets, apple pie in the kitchen, a fucking wall of just family photos! I mean who would have thought! Hero of all people!”

“My god…” breathed Henchman. 

“Family photos…” Other Villain whispered. Then their vision zeroed in past the swollen right hand to see the left, bruised and pale tied to the right…with a simple gold band around the ring finger. “Villain, you don’t mean…that is…is this?”

“Hero’s spouse?” Villain gave the figure a playful kick causing the person to pull so far into themselves in a way Other Villain did not think possible. “I know right? Turns out, our dear old Hero goes home every night to this little treat. Eating home cooked food, getting that sweet love…” 

Villain crouched down, with the grace of super strength they easily turned Civilian so their front was facing Other Villain and Henchman.Civilian whimpered and tried to keep their head down, but Villain roughly gripped their chin and hoisted their face up towards the warehouses’ dimmed fluorescent lights. 

“I mean would you just look at them?” Tears streaked down the captive’s face as Villain’s sharp nails bit into the skin of their cheeks. Their eyes looked at Other Villain with a mix of pleading, hopelessness, and fear all vying for dominance. 

There was a spark of something else in there too…was it resignation? Or defiance?

Take away the fear and the tear stains and that face looked familiar. 

“Tell me you’ve never seen something as cute as this!” Villain cooed. They let go of Civilian’s face and effortlessly dragged Civilian into a kneeling position. Fingers digging into their upper arm. Hair fell into their eyes, but it did nothing to hide their complex expression. 

Other Villain felt like they were going to be sick. 

They didn’t use hostages! There was no point…it was so much more work than what was needed. Other Villain liked quiet missions, takes in the night where no one was the wiser…and they were good at that.

Which is exactly why Villain did this. A treacherous voice in their mind supplied. 

“Villian,” Other Villain slowly approached them, they felt Henchman move closely at their side. “Are they even…”

“Powered?” Villain cut them off gleefully. “Nope!” They clutched onto the back of 

Civilian's neck with such force that they squeaked through the gag, eyes widening. 

“Totally and completely mundane. I mean, can you believe it? They’re a writer or something.” 

“A writer?” Other Villain looked down at Civilian, noting the way their gaze looked down and to the side. 

“Oh yeah, always running around with a messenger bag and taking notes for various hoity toities.” Villain flipped their free hand back and forth, “Getting coffee down on 31st at the same time every morning, typing away in that cubicle all day, just to come home and make our dear Hero dinner.” 

Other Villain watched as Civilian jerked in Villain’s grasp at the words, a muffled shout of protest coming from their dry lips. 

“Oh, did I not say that on the way over?” Villain said sweetly down at them. With grace that beguiled their true intentions, Villain delicately brushed Civilian's hair off their face. “I’ve been watching you for over a month, pookie. Same routine day in and day out. I can see why Hero fell for you. Such dependability.” They scrunched up Civilian's face and gave it a little shake.

Civilian huff and snorted through the gag. They jerked back and Villain let them, abruptly releasing their neck as well, causing Civilian to almost lose balance, only catching themselves just in time by leaning forward. 

“So that’s where you’ve been going every morning?” Asked Henchman, their voice scandalized. Other Villain placed a hand on Henchman’s arm just as Villain sneered at them,

“I can’t see how it matters to you where I go.” Their gaze narrowed and they took a step toward Henchman, but Other Villain moved in front of them,

“You found Hero’s place over a month ago and didn’t check in?” Other Villain said while they pushed Henchman further behind them.

Villain rolled their eyes, “Why would I? Once I found out about this…”

Villain’s voice tapered out as they moved toward the shaky Civilian. The captive had somehow managed to stand on their unsteady legs and was looking back toward the entrance. 

In a flash Villain lined themselves up, only inches from their face. Civilian stumbled back in a panic. Villain wiped out their arm like lightning and swept it around their waste, pulling Civilian flush against them. 

Civilian squirmed, jerked, and kicked, only to freeze as a sharp nailed finger slowly traced down their neck, circling their jugular. Villain watched their pounding, racing pulse with a look of hunger,

“Hero married a little, no powered, pathetic, cutie pie...” Villain whispered, “and thought no one would want a taste?” Villain licked their lips, matching Civilian eye to eye, tracing the tear tracks, an obsessed look on their face. “Hero needs to learn they can’t have their cake and eat it too,” They said lowly. 

“Villain…” Other Villain whispered.

“Can’t you just picture it?” Villain breathed. “Hero barging in…frantic, scared…willing to risk everything…just to see me rip their Spouse’s throat out in front of them? They watch as the life drains out of them…knowing they’ve failed.”

Civilian keened a pleading whimper, new tears spilling down their face. They couldn’t jerk away for risk of Villian’s nail impaling their skin. 

Oh god, thought Other Villain. They felt ill. Oh fuck!

This whole time, Other Villain had thought it was Hero…Villain had been fixated, obsessed with Hero…always had been…but now, it was more…it was, it was…

It was Hero’s Spouse the whole time. This whole month. 

They were the drug Villain craved. Villain had been watching them, memorizing them, all the while plotting the perfect death for them. Imagining all the ways to kill Civilian that would best destroy Hero from the inside. 

How was anyone this crazy?!

Villain looked like all they wanted was to claw into Civilian’s neck and devour them all at once.

This was bad on so many levels. Other Villain should have left when they had the chance. 

“Villain…” Other Villain tentatively stepped closer. Villain hummed, but their gaze never left the shaking civilian in their arms. 

Henchman placed a hand on Other Villain’s shoulder, a silent support. 

“Villain,” Other Villain stated louder. This time Villain did look at them, grip loosening on Civilian just a fraction. 

“What?”

“You need to report to Supervillian.” 

“It’s late.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Other Villain shook their head. “They need to know now, would want to know now. You know what will happen if they find out you did this and didn’t bring it to them immediately.” 

Villain looked Other Villain up and down, seeming to assess their seriousness. When Other Villain didn’t blink they shrugged, 

“I guess you’re right.” They said with a huff. They maneuvered Civilian so they were being dragged along by their arm. “Supervillain wouldn’t want to miss this.”

“Wait.” 

Villain turned back to Other Villain,

“What now?”

“Leave Hero’s Spouse here.” Henchman’s hand tightened on Other Villain’s shoulder at their words. 

“And why would I do that?” Villain seemed to be amused at the request. Civilian was looking at Other Villain with wide eyes.

“Protocol,” Other Villain improvised. “We can’t have them know where Supervillain is holed up. On the very off chance they get away…well, you know Supervillain only allows certain people near them.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Henchman’s grip on their shoulder was getting painful. 

Villain reached into their jacket. 

Other Villain tensed, Henchman pulled on their shoulder as if to put Other Villain behind them.

Villain pulled out their phone.

“Fine,” They said nonchalantly. “I’ll text that I'm coming over with news. Here,”

They all but threw Civilian at Other Villain’s feet. The poor captive landed in a crumpled heap, shaking and silently crying. 

“Good, good. You can give them an update and tell them I’ll be waiting here for further instructions.” Other Villain’s voice came out strong and confident, even though on the inside they were crumbling. They could feel Henchman standing so close now their back was warmed by their front.

What Villain was planning to do was another level. One that Other Villain was positive Supervillain would not only allow, but endorse. 

“Yes, yes,” Villain cast one last glance at Civilian before leveling Other Villain with a look of pure stone. “Remember, I worked hard to get us this…oportunity. If they get away under your watch… yours will be the throat I rip out.” They tossed a smirk at Henchman, “And I’ll make them watch.” 

“How dare you…”Henchman began, but Villain was already off with a jaunty step and a manic chuckle. 

“Ta, ta!”

They waited in silent stillness for a few long moments after Villain swung the door closed behind them. Finally, Other Villain moved, crouching down to Civilian while abruptly holding their arm out to Henchman. 

“I need your phone.” 

“What?”

Civilian cringed away from Other Villain’s hand as they neared their face, but Other Villain only reached behind them and undid the gag. 

“Wha…” Came their dry voice as they spit out their gag.

“I need your phone,” Other Villain stated again to Henchman. 

Henchmen easily slipped it into their hand. Other Villain immediately typed in the passcode and started scrolling with one hand, the other took out a switchblade and flipped it open. Civilian scooted back,

“Wait, no…”

“Calm down,” Henchman said for them. “They just want to cut the ropes.”

Henchman stooped and took the knife from Other Villain and left them to their scrolling. 

Once freed from their bonds, Civilian tentatively shuffled into a seated position. They watched as Other Villain typed on Henchman’s phone.

“What are you doing?” They asked quietly. 

“They can track mine,” Said Other Villain as if that answered the question. 

“Oh,” Civilian turned and looked toward the door, but Henchman planted themselves in the way. They leveled a hard look at them. Civilian took in the large stature and knew there was no out running or out fighting the hulk in their current state. 

After another few moments, Other Villain suddenly called out,

“Ha!” They looked up from the phone and straight at Civilian. Civilian stared back in fear. “I knew I’d seen your face before!” 

Shaking their head, Civilian stammered, “I don’t know what…” “When Villain said you’re a writer, you looked cagey. I knew you looked familiar. It took me a few minutes, but I finally figured it out. On the staff web page.”

Other Villain held up the phone, there in bright colors was Civilian's name and picture. Underneath in neat typed letter was,

Lead Policy Advisor

“You’re a policy writer, you work for Senator McWilliams.”

“No way. Hero hitched themselves to a politician?” Henchman asked.

“Works for politicians. There’s a difference," said Other Villain. They smirked, “And Hero hitched themselves to the one responsible for the Power Policy Bill that’s about to go to vote, didn’t they?.” 

“No shit,” Henchman looked Civilian up and down. “You write that?”

Civilian looked between the two of them in total confusion. Fear and curiosity warring across their features. “Maybe…not that it matters anymore. Villain’s going to…”

“Oh, I’m not giving you back to Villain,” Other Villain said. 

Civilian stiffened, eyebrows knitting together. “So are you going to let me go?” Their voice shook with unveiled hope.

“Nope,” Other Villain shook their head. Civilian crumpled. “But I’m not going to kill you.”

They leaned forward.They felt like Charlie finding the golden ticket. Finally! They could spin this situation and be out from Supervillain’s grasp for good, 

 “Look, I don’t know if you noticed, but Villain and I don’t really see eye to eye. That being said, I’m not altruistic, nor am I stupid enough to go against your spouse in a one on one fight. I, we, need a ticket out of here and you my friend are the ransom.”

Civilian drew their knees close to themselves, shaking their head, “But you just said…you’re not going against my spouse.”

“Exactly,” Other Villain stood abruptly, pulling Civilian up with them. Meeting Henchman’s eyes for a silence confirmation, Other Villain spoke to Civilian, “So let’s get the hell out of here, then you're going to call your boss. He’s going to give me a lot of money to get his best policy writer back.” And then Henchman and I will be good as gone. No harm, no foul. Civilian goes back to apple pies and family photos, we get out of working for Supervillain, They thought.

Civilian shook their head firmly. “Spouse will come for me long before a ransom goes through!”

Other Villain shook their head with a smirk. 

“Not where we’re going.”

Other Villain watched as Henchman pulled a black cloth from their pocket and swiftly threw it over the eyes of Civilian, tying it before easily taking hold of Civilian’s arms. They cried out,

“Wait!”

“Let’s go.” 

If all went well, Other Villain and Henchman would be gone in a new city by tomorrow.

In this instance, Photographer was looking at hour four in the bathroom. At least, they thought so. There was no sense of time available to them. 

They knew Hero could take a few minutes to an entire day with Photographer locked in the bathroom, so they did what three weeks of habit had taught them, and placed a few towels on the floor of the tub to curl up and nurse their never ending injuries. 

God, Photographer couldn’t do this much longer. 

They could feel their body giving up, withering away. There’s only so many beatings one could take before the healing process just couldn’t keep up anymore. 

They couldn’t even walk without assistance. Well, not without Hero dragging them about the apartment. 

It was terrifying. Knowing, feeling, their body shut down bit by bit…Hero hurting just enough for Photographer to experience the fear of a long unavoidable death. 

‘I can still save you, you know, if you tell me’, Hero whispered to them this morning as they lay prone on their bedroom floor. ‘This is all still reversible…but not for much longer. You’ve got no powers my friend, we both know you won’t bounce back soon.’

When Photographer said nothing, Hero dragged them into the bathroom with a ‘Let’s see what one more day with no food does, eh?’ And left to presumably do their classic hero-ing. 

Photographer shifted and whimpered. With no one else in the apartment, they didn’t feel the need to hide just how awful they felt. And awful was an understatement. 

Hero fed them, but only just enough. After all, a dead Photographer couldn’t reveal where the film was, nor become a puppet for Hero to use later. But Photographer could still feel the sharpness of their bones against skin every time they moved in the porcelain bowl. The bruises were now so extensive that Photographer couldn’t make out what their skin color used to be on their torso. And every day Hero would shift between the tyrannical murderer Photographer caught in the warehouse, and just plain Hero, Photographer’s friend who had saved them on countless occasions. 

Photographer knew what Hero was doing to them… gaslighting, manipulating…but their exhaustion was getting to the point that they might just believe Hero was still their friend one of these days. 

But what would happen once Hero got the film? Finally acquiring the one thing that seemed to put a hold on whatever plan Hero put in place?

Photographer had a feeling that many people would die. One in particular for sure. 

They couldn’t let that happen. 

Shifting again, Photographer pulled a towel to cover their already clothed body. Even with sweatpants and a long sleeve shirt the chill never left their body. It upset them that they hadn’t escaped before this, Hero constantly with them at first…now their body was too weak to do so. 

Hurry Villain! They thought desperately. Just as they had since Villain showed up on their door step two days ago. Please!

They wondered what plan Villain was concocting to rescue them…if they were going to at all. No, of course Villain would. Photographer remembered Villain’s face at the warehouse when (after having lots of time to think about it, Photographer figured it out), Villain thought the dead body on the warehouse ground was theirs. 

It was a look of pure devastation. Pure fury. 

The same way Photographer would feel if their places were switched. 

No, Villain was coming for them. They just needed to hold on a little longer. 

And what about Assistant Director? Did he open the package Photographer left on his desk? Had he developed the film? A security guard at Investigation Agency owed Photographer a favor and they cashed it in to get the package placed on the desk of the man Hero seemed to hate the most. 

Photographer chuckled through their slow tears. It was ironic, Hero holding them hostage so they would reveal where the film was, before it got into Assistant Director’s hands. And Assistant Director was where Photographer hid it in the first place. 

Then again, the note included would have dissuaded the young bureaucrat from looking at the film too soon. 

Hero holding them hostage in their own home was unexpected. Not at all a part of the plan. 

Then again, neither was Villain coming to look for them. 

The slam of the front door pulled Photographer from their musings. The sound of fast, heavy foot steps towards the bathroom made them push up against the side of the tub. They curled up. Try to be small, try to be small, the mantra echoed in their head. 

“PHOTOGRAPHER!” Hero screamed. The door flew open. It hit the side wall with enough force to leave a glaring dent. 

Photographer’s eyes widened in the face of Hero’s fury. They couldn’t stop the uncontrollable shaking nor the sound of fear that escaped them. 

This was not the Hero Photographer had known the past few weeks. This was not the methodical, torturous captor. Photographer felt ice claw up their spine as their gaze met Hero’s…Hero was angry. No, Hero was furious. This was the same face Hero had when they lost control with Agent. 

Something happened today. 

Dear god…did Hero find the film? Was Assistant Director dead? Did Villain try something? 

Was Photographer about to be murdered in their own bathroom?

“What happened?!” Hero roared, crowding into Photographer’s space and looming over them. 

Hero gripped the porcelain sides, the space going from protected to prison in a matter of seconds. 

“I don’t know what you mean,” Photographer stammered, sliding down as far as they could go. Their feet and knees bunched near the faucet as their back lay flat. 

“What did you say?!” Hero growled. 

“Noth…Nothing,” Photographer felt their heart would stop with how fast it was going. “I’ve been here all day, I swear, even since you dragged me…”

“I KNOW!” Hero punctuated with their face jutting down closer to the tub. Photographer whimpered and pushed themselves flatter. “I know you’ve been here all day, you pathetic, no power, waste of trash! I mean before!”

“Wha…What before?” 

“Before,” Hero lowered their voice, “when Villain was at the door.”

What? But that was two days ago!

“I…I don’t…” Photographer hated how weak they sounded, but sheer panic shot through their veins like lightning. “You were there! You heard! I sent them away!” 

Hero reached down and placed their left hand flat against Photographer’s chest. 

“Yes, I heard.” Slowly, almost gently, they began to push down. Pressure increased as Photographer became pinned against the bottom of the tub. “So how did you do it? Huh, Photographer? I listened to everything, I know you had no pen or paper, how did you ask for help?” 

Hero pushed down further. Photographer’s eyes popped and their breathing hitched when they realized what Hero was doing.

Dear god, Hero was going to crush them!

Slowly, painfully, Hero would make it last…morbidly Photographer’s brain flashed the image of that guy they learned about in the fifth grade, who was crushed during the Salem Witch Trials.

Photographer desperately gripped Hero’s arm with both hands, pushing up in a futile attempt to relieve the pressure. 

“I…I didn’t…” They squeaked. Hero pushed down harder, all air forced out of Photographer’s lungs. They gasped rapidly for breaths that never made it past their throat. Their nails clawed at Hero. 

“Then why!” Hero ground out, each word accented with an extra push of their hand. “Why was Villain spotted leaving Assistant Director’s house this morning? Huh?! Why would that swine ever go near that man unless…” 

“...please…” Photographer wheezed. Their vision was going dark. The pain so severe they were sure to hear the crunching of ribs any second. 

“Unless,” Hero continued. Their face now mere inches from the gasping Photographer's. “Unless they were willing to risk it all…and they would only do that for one person.” 

Suddenly, the pressure was gone. Photographer violently jerked as their body spasmed against the first deep breath of air. 

Every fiber of their being was on fire. 

Tears spilled from Photographer’s eyes as they curled onto their side away from Hero. Body shaking and lungs aching. 

A hand slid up and down their arm before gripping their bicep holding them still. 

“You know, Villain was ready to kill me when they thought it was you who’s heart I held in my hand…I had no idea, not before then anyway, how much you meant to them.” 

“...please…” Photographer rasped. Their hand rested against the porcelain side, as if it would magically become a door and let them escape. 

“I wonder,” Hero’s voice tickled so close to their ear, “if they mean the same to you.” 

Photographer stilled. Not a breath, not a sound escaped them. They felt ice shoot through their heart. 

No.

“I’m done playing games, Photographer." Hero straightened up and wiped their hands together. “I didn’t want to do this. I thought all our years of friendship meant something.”

Even though they just wanted to sink into the tub and disappear, Photographer forced themselves to roll over and meet Hero’s gaze. 

“It did,” they rasped. “It meant so much…but you threw that away when you became a murderer and took me hostage in my own home.” 

Hero glared down at them, “You can’t possibly understand. There are forces at play here that no non-powered little wretch could ever comprehend. And you, my friend, are screwing up the gameboard.” 

A moment of silence followed Hero’s words. 

Photographer sucked in a breath as realization struck. 

“That’s why…” their eyes widened in wonder as they spoke. “That’s why.”

 Hero quirked an eye brow,

“Why what?” 

“That’s why you hate him,” Photographer all but whispered. “Why you needed Agent. Why you wanted his file.” They painfully pulled themselves up into a sitting position. As each puzzle piece fell into place it gave them the energy to look Hero in the eye. “You hate him, because he has no powers." 

  Hero grabbed their hair and yanked their head back. They drew their face so close Photographer could feel the spit as Hero growled.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about!”

Photographer grit their teeth, “Don’t I?” 

As Hero pulled their hair harder, Photographer forced themselves to speak through the pain,

“You hate Assistant Director because he has no powers.”

With an animalistic yell Hero shoved Photographer away, their shoulder blades hit the tub’s edge with a loud thump. They slumped forward. 

Hero huffed deep angry breaths from above as they tried and failed to get themselve up. 

 “He’s bested heroes and villains time and time again,” Photographer almost felt like laughing. They finally pulled themselves up with their knees close to their chest. “And he has no powers.” 

They raised their gaze and met Hero straight on. 

“I’m done with this,” Hero whispered. In a flash they turned their back and strode towards the door. And a much more conversational tone, they said, “You have no family and no friends of note around here, Photographer.” 

Photographer drew their eyebrows together in question. Hero reached over and grabbed the door handle, moving the door back and forth, testing that it was still functional. 

“I know how much you value true journalism. With no one to threaten, I figured your freedom was worth more than anything to you.” 

Cold dread filled Photographer. They stumbled to untangle themselves and reach over the tub’s edge. 

“I want that film, Photographer. I’m not waiting any longer.”

“Wait…” Photographer stammered. Their mind knew where this was going and all previous confidence at figuring out Hero’s motivations left them. “You…”

“Let’s see how tight lipped you are when it’s Villain squirming under my hand.”

“No…”

“See you in a bit Photographer.” Hero threw one last look over their shoulder. A sadistic glint in their eye, “We’ll soon have a guest.”

“NO!” Photographer screamed as the door closed, locking them in once more.

A crunch and slight scuffle on the gravel took Detective from their thoughts. The two were getting closer. No more than a couple cars over now. Should Detective make a run for it? No, trying to out run two supers was not only futile, but would anger them further. Best to stay in their hiding space…with any luck the sound of the rain will cover Detective’s breathing enough that Hero’s super hearing will gloss over it. 

Their leg shifted involuntarily causing loose dirt and rock to scuff against their shoe. Dammit! Detective’s shaking was getting out of control. They couldn’t remember the last time they felt this scared. Three years on the job and Detective had felt they were pretty experienced. Yet, here they were, most likely about to die. No wonder the older guys still called them a green horn. 

They didn’t even call Partner. Never had the chance. Other Villain caused Detective’s phone to turn white hot in their hand the moment it was close to their ear, just before Detective ran into the maze of railcars. The palm of their hand stung with a burn they knew would scar. 

“I know you’re here Detective,” Hero’s sickenly sweet tone floated from a few cars away. “I can hear your heartbeat…fluttering like a little rabbit…tell me Detective, are you scared? Or is it the thrill of the chase? It is for me…”

Detective squeezed their eyes shut at the words. In their mind they could see the autopsy reports of Other Villain’s victims, so many victims, from the years when Other Villain owned this city. The things done to them…they had not died quickly. 

It had taken years to run them out of town. And Hero was bringing them back again. 

Hero let out a sharp laugh, now much closer than they had been. 

“I heard that Detective! The skip in your heart…you’re not just scared are you? You’re terrified!” 

Detectives forced themselves to breathe slower, hearing their racing heart themselves as it pounded in their ears. 

“That’s good,” Hero continued; each sentence getting them closer and closer. “Other Villain likes them that way…terrified and quivering…never saw the appeal myself, but for you I’m willing to make an exception. Who knows? Perhaps you can live up to that baby face of yours and we can get you crying before you die.” 

As scared as they were, Hero’s words sent a jolt of anger through Detective. Like Hell! They might become just another tally on Other Villain’s record, another autopsy report, but hell if they weren’t going to go down fighting. They vowed not to shed a single tear. 

They had to do something! Detective frantically whipped their head around, looking from the gravel under them to the heavy iron above…surely there was something they could…THERE! 

As fast, and as quietly as they could, Detective gripped the old rusty nail from among the rocks with their uninjured left hand. With their right, they used the tips of their fingers, avoiding their burnt palm, to take hold of a larger stone. With a prayer and a wish they tossed it out and away from where they were hiding. They knew Hero finding them was inevitable, but with the rain and now the sound of the thrown rock, perhaps Hero finding them could be delayed long enough for Detective to leave a message. 

They shifted onto their back and, with the old nail, started scratching into the rusted iron above as fast as they could.

H X OV…the scratching was louder then they anticipated and they heard the abrupt scuff of steps changing direction… PP DOX…The steps had turned to heavy stomps as Hero followed the sound and got closer…9 30 NO V… Detective’s hand shook as they scratched as fast as legibility would allow, Hero was only a couple cars away…TL FM SRY…

A firm hand clamped painfully on their ankle and Detective was ripped with brutal force from their hiding spot. There was no resistance they could give, the strength was unmatched. Detective felt their back rip across the large stone ballast and the back of their head hit the rail. In less than a second they were lying prone in the space between cars, the rain not hitting their face due to the weight which had settled above them, across their middle and hips. 

A sharp, piercing, deranged, cackle rang across the railyard. 

Detective squinted their eyes open. Above them, now pinning them to the ground, was not Hero…but Other Villain. Detective moved to pull their gun from their holster, but Other Villain was fast, deceptively, powerfly, fast, and with the same speed and strength that had pulled them from under the railcar, Detective’s gun was thrown at least ten years from them and their wrist was gripped and twisted until a loud and sickening crack echoed in the rain. 

Detective screamed, instinctively pulling their broken wrist closer only to have Other Villain grab both arms and wretch them over their head. The burn on their right hand throbbed, and the broken wrist on their left was white hot agony. 

“Now, now, now…no need to use something so primitive,” sing-songed Other Villain. “Though, I guess when you're so mundane, there’s nothing else for you…” Other Villain leaned down, so close their nose almost brushed Detective’s. “I can smell your fear.” 

Detective snarled, bucked and kicked, but it was no use. Other Villain was not gifted with just one, but many, powers. Speed and strength being the top two. 

“It’s been so long since I’ve experimented…tell me, how long do you think you can live as I pull out your organs one by one?” 

Detective’s eyes widened at the words and their useless struggles took on new life, but still to no avail. 

“Surely, not as long as a super…but maybe…you do seem a determined one..” Other Villian shifted Detective’s arms to only be held down by one hand, while the other slid down to grip the side of their abdomen with their clawlike nails. Detective gasped. “I could start here. Do you still have your appendix? I guess I’ll find out…”

“Oh do stop teasing the poor wretch,” came Hero’s voice. Crunching gravel echoed in Detective’s ear as Hero came to stand next to their head and leaned into their view. “We can’t kill them until they’ve answered a few questions. Not that I’m adverse to the idea,” Hero nudged the tip of their boot into Detective’s armpit, making them jerk. “This one’s been a pain in my ass for a couple years now.” 

Other Villain leaned away to address Hero, but still kept pressure on Detectives wrists and side, the nails now surely drawing blood with the force that they gripped with. “Then perhaps the less important ones first? They’ll have to talk once one of their kidneys is dangling in front of their face.” 

If Detective’s heart sounded like a rabbit before, it was supersonic now. But despite the fear, Detective held their tongue. They would not talk. 

Hero threw back their head and laughed, “Oh my friend, I forgot how deliciously ruthless you are!”

Other Villain turned their attention back to Detective, their nails dug in further; Detective winced and tensed. 

“You ask the questions,” Other Villain told Hero, “I’ll get the answers.” 

“Sounds like a…”

BOOM!

The sound of an explosion cut off Hero words. The force of it reverberated through the ground and Detective felt it through their bones. 

“What the hell?”

 BOOM!

Another, much closer this time, shook the train cars and caused Other Villain to lean forward for balance and place more weight on the hand digging into Detective’s side. 

Detective yelled as they felt blood pour freely from the wound. 

Other Villain and Hero were looking frantically around now, trying to assess the new threat. 

BOOM!

Another explosion rocked the ground, this time only a few rails away. 

Hero’s eyes settled on the withering Detective. 

“Who did you call?” Hero demanded. 

Shaking and wracked with pain, Detective shook their head. 

BOOM! Another explosion. Closer still. 

“Who did you call?!” Hero pushed Other Villain off Detective and pushed their polished boot into Detective’s stomach. 

Detective, once again, shook their head. 

BOOM!

The train cars to Detective's right groaned with the impact. 

“Dammit, Detective! Who did you call!?” Hero was screaming now, in a voice that Detective only distantly realized was fear, but the force of Hero’s weight on their stomach made thinking impossible. Hero leaned in, placing all of their weight on the one foot as they matched their face with Detective’s. 

Detective gagged as Hero made it impossible to breathe. 

“WHO?” 

“Go...to…hell…” Detective choked. 

With a look of pure fury, Hero raised their fist and Detective knew they couldn’t survive a hit from their super powered arm. 

It seemed their time was up.

The fist came down and Detective closed their eyes. 

The hit never came. 

In a sudden and whirling sound of fire and impact, Detective felt the weight on their stomach vanish and their body leave the ground. It was disorienting and loud, and they could only spare the single thought that they had been caught up in one of the oncoming explosions, before the sensations became too much and they felt themselves lost between awareness and unconsciousness. 

There were distant screams which Detective wasn’t completely sure weren’t their own. 

They came too in what could have been minutes, seconds, or even hours later to find themselves half seated in wet grass and half cradled in someone’s arms. It took another few minutes for them to realize words were being whispered into their hair as a hand raked up and down their back in soothing motions. 

“It’s okay, you’re okay…I know it hurts…I’m sorry…I’ll make it better…please wake up…I know it hurts, but you need to wake up…you’re okay…”

In the haze of words, Detective felt themselves going back and forth as the person holding them rocked ever so slightly. Whether it was for Detective’s benefit or their own, Detective didn’t know. The voice sounded so panicked. 

“You’re safe…”the voice continued. “You’re okay…They’re gone now…You’re okay…I know it hurts…”

Detective twitched their head a bit and let out a groan, awareness brought back the pain of their many injuries. 

“Detective?” The rocking stopped and the voice went from panicked whispers to a shocked croak. “Detective? Are you awake?”

Detective shifted and gasped, they moved their head to look up at the cloudy sky, feeling the lips which had been rhythmically whispering pull back. 

It was no longer raining, but the sky was still overcast. 

“Detective?” Came the tentative voice. 

It was only then that Detective realized who the voice belonged to. 

Not wanting to move their neck any more than needed, Detective shifted their eyes to focus on the person holding them and whose face was staring directly down at them. 

“Vil…Villain?” Detective’s voice sounded like it had gone through a shredder. 

A smile broke through Villian’s tear stained face. 

“Detective! You’re awake!” 

Confusion laced Detective’s thoughts. “Wha…why?”

“I have help coming. A healer…we’ll get you patched up…don’t worry.” Judging by the look on Villain’s face and the grip with which they held on, Detective wondered if Villain was more worried about their wounds then they were. 

“No…why…”

Why did you save me? How did you know? Where are we?

All the questions got lodged in their throat and couldn’t make it out. 

“We’ll talk after, okay? I’ll explain everything. Just focus on getting better right now.” The words were so soft, nothing like the Villain the Detective knew, nothing like the Villain who terrorized the city on a weekly basis. 

“You’re okay,” Villain whispered again. This time more to themselves. “Just focus on getting better. You’re okay.”

Neurotic, Second called him. Perfectionist, no nonsense, couldn’t crack a smile to save the world…honestly, what you see in an uptight, no powered…

But that was just it. Villain did see all that about him. How he turned his watch dial three times before a mission, how he woke up at 5am every morning to starch the perfect pleats in his shirt, how he rearranged his asparagus at the top of his plate before he ate it…how he never forgot a detail, like when Villain offhandedly made a comment that she liked cranberries, so he started adding them to her chicken salad. How he hates disordered or dirty things, but when Villain was sick, leaking all kinds of fluids, he was right there holding her as she coughed all over him. How he used his ‘neurotic’ nature as a weapon, never forgetting and always demanding perfection, making a character trait which used to cause him grief into his greatest strength…

What do I see? Villain thought with glee. I see everything, and I love him for it.

“What was it you wanted to show me?” He asked. His eyes went up and around the warehouse taking in the security cameras and storage containers, “Have I ever been here before?” 

“No,” she smiled and slipped her hand down his arm to hold his hand. “You would have remembered.” 

He rolled his eyes, “Seriously, what’s got you in such a good mood? I haven’t seen you like this since…” His voice trailed off, a smirk on his lips. 

Since I plucked up the courage to pull you into my office and plant a kiss on you. Oh, the joy she felt when he returned the kiss full force all those months ago. 

“Remember that shipment I told you about? The one from that got rerouted from O’ahu.” 

“The 3am call last week? Of course, but I only know we lost a few hours sleep.” 

She tugged on his hand and led him deeper into the warehouse. Going by large metal containers that held her usual business ventures, some being loaded, some unloaded. But the one she was currently invested in was kept in a more secluded spot. 

“We? You could have gone back to sleep.”

“I wanted to be ready in case something came up.” 

She knew that was his code for the bed was cold without you.

God, she loved him. 

And she could finally be completely honest with him! That was the reason for her

happiness. For months she’d wanted to include Henchman in her more nefarious dealings, but Second convinced her not to. 

You know virtually nothing about him, for all we know he could be a cop. Villain had laughed in Second’s face. Henchman? A cop? Not likely. But Second took a lot of convincing to trust someone and Villain respected them for that. So, when Donovan proposed that lucrative deal to Villain three weeks ago, she set up a new partnership and shipping arrangement that only a handful of those closest to her knew about. 

Second insisted Henchman know nothing. 

Until yesterday. 

Yesterday morning, when Second was cornered by one of the agents from that damned Investigation Agency. The pricks who felt the need to stick their noses into villain and hero business alike. Fucking boyscouts who’ve taken out as much as 30% of Villain’s best shipping routes all in the name of so called ‘justice’.

They were how Second found themselves caught, redhanded, yesterday. If those agents got any of the information Second was carrying…it would have been the end of it all. 

Until Henchman shot them. 

Point blank, three bullets, three agents. Henchman saved Second. 

Now in Second’s eyes, Henchman proved who he was truly loyal to. 

Not that Villain hadn’t known from the first time their lips met.

They meandered the various containers, until they got into a nondescript corner lit by only one overhead. Second stood there, holding the keys in one hand and settling the other on their hip with their gun. Not that they ever used it. Second’s powers made guns look like playthings. 

“Just got in,” Second updated as Villian approached. “He wanted to see you when he turned it over, but I told him you were…indesposed.”

Second gave Henchman a look up and down and smirked,

“Your creases are uneven, Henchman.” They shifted the look over to Villain, “Mazel tov.” 

Henchman looked down at his shirt and grimaced, quickly letting go of Villain to readjust the damage Villain’s spur of the moment makeout created. 

“How’d he take it?” Villain asked, hoping the handoff of the container hadn’t been too difficult for Second. “I can’t imagine Donovan took my absence lightly.”

Henchman stilled in their fussing.

“Twenty minutes of your time next week to discuss the new hero in town.” Clipping the right key off the ring, Second undid the large padlock on the container. “He wants to go old school, if I had to take a guess. Be prepared for that rant.”

Villain laughed as she walked over to help Second with the heavy door. “We’ve all heard it a thousand times before…”

“Donovan?” 

Villain turned to look at Henchman. His eyebrows were creased and he was staring at her with a quiet alarm. 

She smiled at his pensive look, knowing he must have put the pieces together already. Her love was so brilliant. 

“Surprise!” She gushed walking over and taking his hand. His palms, which had just been warm and welcoming, were cold and damp. She didn’t think too hard on it. 

“What?”

“The vacation to Hawaii?” She continued as if he hadn’t spoken, reminding him of the conversation they’d relayed time and time again over the past month. A lovely vacation, just the two of them…they’d both dreamt of Hawaii all their lives, but never was there someone to share it with. 

The perfect gift for her perfect boyfriend. 

“I told Donovan I’d agree to partner only if we set a post in O’ahu. It just so happens that someone is needed there to oversee and I couldn’t help but notice you’ve gotten a little pale …maybe if we were to take that post for a couple of months…” She laughed at his shocked look. “That re-route was to set up the mansion.” 

“Villain,” he whispered, just as they approached the opening of the container. Pulling out of her grasp before she could show him the lucrative commodity inside he said, “You said you’ve never done business with Donovan…promised you never would.” 

The tone of his voice made her elation simmered down. What was the problem here?

“I did, and I meant it…at the time.” She shrugged and reached over to rub his arms up and down, “I know you’re worried because of Donovan’s reputation, but trust me babe! I can handle Donovan, we both know he’s terrified of me.”

“And for good reason,” chuckled Second. 

“But you said…you promised…” Henchman looked between her and Second, finally settling on the large dark container. “Please tell me you didn’t,” His voice cracked, eyes wide. 

Villain’s mood took a one-eighty at Henchman’s voice. He never sounded like this…so shaken…so unsure…and…she realized why his voice alarmed her so…he sounded utterly broken. 

“Babe, I don’t understand. This is a good thing,” she emphasized, hands gripping both his arms. “We can finally have our dream vacation! Think about it! If we like it enough we could even stay there…”

“Hang on…” Second sounded behind them. 

“You’ve always wanted to be a dad. We set up at the mansion, have some time for ourselves…actually follow through with those retirement plans!” Villain knew she sounded desperate, but something was breaking in her boyfriend, his face becoming more and more ashen, his arms shaking. Why was he so upset?

“You two planned what?!” Second bellowed, but Villain kept going as if she hadn’t heard. All that mattered right now was Henchman. 

“I know we planned to get out completely, but if this proves stable enough, just think of the life we could have! Our children would never want for anything!” He wretched out of her grasp. Rearing back, he bumped into the open container door and peered into the dark interior. He took a deep breath, the kind she knew he only took to fortify himself, the starch pleats stretching with the amount of oxygen he took in. 

Looking at her, she saw his jaw clench as he took out his phone, swiped the flashlight on, and illuminated the dark contents inside. 

He shuddered a choked gasp at the sight. One hand dropped the flashlight, the other clenched tightly in his pocket. 

“Villain…” god, why did he sound so…betrayed? 

“You two mind telling me what in the fuck you mean by retiring?” Second yelled. They stopped between the two of them. “You know this guy four months and suddenly you want to play house with him?” 

Villain, looked between the two. Henchman with his gaze unwavering on the cursed contents and Second red faced, looking straight at her. 

“I told you we were serious,” Villain ventured, hoping the statement would pacify both parties. 

“And what was I supposed to make of that?” Second seethed. “I figured you'd keep him around, get him in on the big stuff maybe. But what? Fucking him isn’t enough anymore? Gotta set yourselves up with the perfect little American dream? What’s next, making him dinner while he works a nine to five?” 

Rage coursed through Villain at the words. 

“How dare you,” she straightened to her full height, power crackling within her fists. Second gave the tiniest of flinches as if registering just who they spouted these words to. “Disrespect me? Talk about him like that? How dare…”

Second stumbled back, their own power vibrating around them when Henchman yelled,

“Villain!” 

Both froze to look at him. Henchman stood tall, a hard expression filling his countenance. A stark difference than just moments before when Villain held him in her arms.  

His whole frame went from completely shaken, to alarmingly still. 

“Henchman…” 

“Do you know how this is harvested?” His voice might have been considered a whisper, yet it filled the entire space. 

“Hun, what are you…”

“Do you know how this is harvested?!” he snapped. Second took a step back to stand with Villain. 

 “Of course,” Villain narrowed her eyes, but kept her voice low. “Dononvan explained. I never enter into a deal without all the facts, you know that.”

His posture hardened even more at the words. 

“Then you know how painful…” he cut himself off, “how many lives must have been destroyed to get this much?” 

Second scoffed, “And what’s it to us? Not like we know ‘em.”

Henchman’s eye twitched. 

“Villain?” He questioned. 

She met his eyes, a silent conversation happening between the two of them. He knew she knew. There was no reality in which she didn’t know. She owned this city, and knew everything that came and went from it. 

She watched as his eyes went from quiet pleading to closed off determination. The same closed off look which he used to have all the time, always guarded, always ready…the look she fought months to break down. Back in an instant. 

“Of course I know,” She breathed. 

It was like the last gong of a bell. His eyes closed, his breath stuttered. When they opened again, a finality settled there. 

“I meant everything,” he whispered. The hand not in his pocket, settling to the gun on his hip. “Everything” 

“What the hell?” Second startled, powers once again crackling around them. 

“Why,” Henchman slowly withdrew his gun, “Why did you have to make that deal?”

“Honey,” Villain had no idea what was happening. 

Henchman leveled the gun on the two of them, “Don’t move.”

“Henchman, you need to tell me what’s going on right now.” Villain had an inkling, but hoped to god she was wrong. 

Not taking his eyes off either of them, Henchman finally pulled his other hand out of his pocket. 

A small black box with a red blinking light. 

A tracker. Already activated. 

“Villian,” he spoke, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I thought…I truly meant everything.” 

no.

“You son of a bitch!” Second screamed. “He set us up!” Their power fully came online. The electricity crackling along their arms, murder in their eyes. 

No. 

BOOM!

The warehouse shook as Villain heard the main doors blasted off. The sounds of a fight immediately taking over. 

“You have the right to remain silent…” Henchman began.

No!

“FUCK YOU!” Second raged as they sent a large volt towards him, but he was faster, always was, had to be without any powers to back him up…the resounding crack of his gun jolted Second back by the shoulder, their electric blast missing his head by only a few inches, melting the metal door behind him. 

He didn’t even flinch. 

“Anything you say, can and will be used against you in a court of law…” 

Second gasped from the ground, hand clutching their shoulder, power already gearing up for another attempt.

NO!

The container…the evidence…

“You…You…” Villain felt her world crumbling, her heart bursting, her soul disintegrating. 

He was her everything. 

And her everything was a lie. 

“You have the right to an attorney…” 

Second screeched, electricity flying. Henchman rolled to the side. Once again the deadly attack only missed him by an inch. 

Just as he righted himself in a crouch, and Second stumbled to their feet, the building gave a mighty shake. Dust came down from the rafters and the sounds of battle crawled ever closer. 

The sound of the guns told Villian all she needed to know. Heroes didn’t need guns, and Donovan never used handguns, he was more of a rapid fire kind of man.

These were the sounds of Glock 17’s and Sig Sauers. The kind that only got issued to law enforcement. 

Just like the Smith & Wesson in Henchman’s hand. 

She should have known before now, he was always so anal about his side arm…but he had been so perfect. 

Henchman was a fucking Agent from Investigation Agency!

AND HE HAS RUINED EVERYTHING!

With a scream of pure heartbroken rage, Villain let the power inside her explode in a circle of whipping force. 

She had no target, no point anymore, she just wanted to destroy!

Second quickly used their own power to shield themselves as they were slammed against the container, collapsing unconscious, but otherwise unharmed. 

“Shit!” Henchman yelled. His body was torn from the concrete and plowed into the wall opposite the container. Villain heard a satisfying crunch with the impact. 

Henchman landed in a crumpled heap, the moment his body hit the ground he cried out. He reached out for his gun in a blind attempt, yet Villain saw it laying feet away. With the way he was cowered in on himself she knew a few ribs were broken, if not an arm or a leg too. That gun might as well have been all the way in O’ahu, for all that he was able to reach it. 

He gasped and cringed with each breath as Villain stalked forward. 

“All those nights,” She whispered as she kicked the gun further away, making sure he could hear the clatter. “All those sweet nothings in the dark.”

She stopped just over him. Shaking, he looked up and met her eyes. 

“All those promises,” with the point of the heel Henchman himself  had bought her, she pushed into his shoulder, rolling him onto his back. His pained cry fuelled something in her that she could not name. 

The sounds of battle loomed ever closer, but she didn’t care. Nothing mattered anymore except him. Yet, in only ten minutes that meaning changed as drastically as it ever could. 

“LIES?!” She bellowed, jabbing the heel straight into his shoulder, blood gushed, he screamed. 

“Villain!” He gasped as his working hand wrapped around her ankle. “Villain, I meant it….everything…please…” His breaths were shallow and laboured. “I love you.”

Her soul broke. 

“You love me?!” Ripping out the heel, she kneeled right in his chest and gripped the face she had dreamt about for the past four months. He choked as the air cut off from her weight. 

“Love? Love would be supporting me in my business! Love would be creating that life we talked about! Love would be…would be…” She broke off as tears fell from her eyes and mingled with the blood leaking down his forehead. “...not this…”

As soon as it had come, the rage left her. She couldn’t do it. Couldn’t hurt him anymore…could never kill him…because…because she had loved him too. 

“Dammit!” She lifted her knee and dropped his face, collapsing next to him as he gasped for air. “...dammit…” The tears flowed and her shoulders shook. Truly weak for the first time in her career. 

“...Villian…” Through her own haze she saw tears falling from his eyes, pooling across the side of his face and dropping to the dirt covered floor. 

“Why?” She whispered. It was over, she could hear the fight and knew it wasn’t her men who were winning. Now she just needed to know why?

Henchman sucked in a broken breath, “I had no choice…” He reached for her with his good arm, but could only make it a couple of inches. She refused to meet him halfway. “The shipment…Donovan…I had no choice.”

“Always a stickler for the rules,” She dipped her head. “Always so proper. Should have known. Your kind make good cops.” 

“Villain…” Whatever he was about to say was cut off by a yell, coming from the open area of the warehouse. 

“Agent! Agent!” The voice drew closer, “Name!” 

Pounding footsteps were almost to them. The shooting had died down. Villain could only imagine the fight her men put up, to guard her, Second, and who they thought was Villain’s love. 

“Name!” The voice was frantic. “Answer me, dammit! Agent!”

So that’s his real name. She thought. 

“Name!”

“Here,” Henchman (or was it Agent? Name?) called, though it was pitiful. He tried again,

“Partner!” Henchman met her eyes, a silent conviction, a silent acquiesce. “Here! Partner! We’re in here!” 

A man barreled into the back room, dressed in full tac and carrying one of those obnoxiously large power inhibitor rifles. 

“Name!” He cried as he took in the scene. 

Villain looked up and realized this newcomer was one of the three agents Henchman had supposedly shot yesterday…of course that had been a lie as well. 

Looking from Henchman’s broken form to Villain kneeling beside, Partner’s eyes narrowed. He raised the rifle. 

“Damn you! What did you do to him?!”

“Partner! No! WAIT!” Henchman’s cries were unheeded as the weapon powered up and was fired. 

Villain only knew darkness after that. 

Everything was a blur. The holding, the trail, listening as Henchman (now officially being called Agent) gave his testimony about all of Villain’s dealings, not just the Donovan deal. 

Villain pointedly did not make eye contact with his bruised face, nor did she worry about his arm in the sling. 

Donovan swore revenge as he too was convicted on several counts. 

Second somehow ended up in the same cell block as Villain…she didn’t think too hard on it. 

Weeks morphed into months. It was easy to make a reputation in the power inhibiting prison. Villain was threatening with or without her powers…yet, it didn’t feel the same as commanding her crew did on the outside. Second stayed by her side. 

At the end of month one, Villain was torn from her musings in the lounge by Second’s cry of rage.

“THEY FUCKING PROMOTED HIM! THAT LITTLE BASTARD!”

Villain quickly glanced at the television screen to see Henchman’s face, stoic as always, headlining. 

THE NEW FACE OF INVESTIGATION AGENCY, it read. 

He was now Assistant Director. The youngest in the agency’s history. 

“So happy we made his fucking career!” 

Villain only looked down, unable to look at his face or deal with Second’s anger.

At the third month, Villain was informed she had a visitor. 

She ignored the way her heart jumped and refused to think it could be…

It was Partner. 

“I hate you, you know.” He stated frankly the moment she picked up the phone. 

“Can’t say I'm a fan of you,” She drawled.

He rubbed a hand through his hair, eyes going everywhere but meeting hers. 

“You broke him.”

The words were spoken so softly, she was surprised the shitty phone speakers picked it up. 

“Excuse me?”

“You. Broke. Him.” He finally met her gaze, and oh was there anger pooled in his eyes. 

“Some would argue it’s the other way around,” she remained aloof. “Why doesn’t he use his precious new promotion to cheer himself up? I’m sure there’s all kinds of perks.”

Partner huffed, “He’s always turned it down.”

“What?”

“That promotion. They’ve been offering it to him every month for the past two years,” Partner glared. “He always turned it down. Wanted to stay undercover, in the field…that is, until you.”

“Well poopoo for you, guess you won’t have your little friend to play pretend with anymore, not with his face all over the news. Or I guess, even then, I’m sure he could convince some crook to fuck him. Maybe then he can be Director?”

“You bitch…” 

“I don’t have to hear this…” Villain went to hang up. 

“Wait! He doesn’t do that!”

She slowly brought the phone back to her ear. 

“Excuse me?” She stated. 

“He doesn’t…do that. He never did.” 

Villain couldn’t stop the snide laugh, “Oh! I can assure you, he does! Quite well I must admit. He’s wasted on bureaucracy.” 

She watched as Partner fought to control his expression. “That’s why…” he hesitated. 

“Why what?” “He doesn’t do that. Not unless he’s serious,” Partner muttered. “He’s a forever kind of guy…which is why I hate you.”

Villain scoffed, gesturing at her surroundings, “You can’t possibly try to make him the victim in all of this! Who exactly is in maximum lock up and who is running a federal agency?”

“Do you know how long it took me to get him to open up?!” Partner forced. “How long it took to get him to trust me enough to loosen his ways? To get him comfortable enough that he didn’t need to rely on his habits anymore?”

Villain opened her mouth to respond, but Partner pushed on,

“Years! It took me years to break down those rituals! Years to make him feel safe enough not to fortify everything about himself!”

“I don’t…”

“And you blew that all to shit! Do you have any idea what kind of cop chooses undercover work?”

As angry as she was, Villain felt ice grip her heart. She shook her head,

“I can’t imagine,” her voice remained uncaring. 

“The kind that grew up knowing exactly what kind of fucked up shit can happen when supers get too ambitious.” 

“He doesn’t have any…” “Powers? No, he never has. Doesn’t mean he wasn’t around supers every second of every day.”

Silence enveloped the two as Villain processed the words. 

“You still can’t make this out to be anything but his fault,” she said shakily. “After he took my city away from me.”

Partner sighed, whatever resentment seemed to evaporate now that he had his piece. 

“Think what you will. I just…I just needed you to know. He doesn’t…he lied about a lot of things, it was part of the job…but he’s not the kind to lie about what really matters.”

Villain fought to hold back the frustration of tears. She was stronger than that dammit!

“Did he send you here to say that?”

“No. He has no idea,” Partner stood, straightening his coat with the hand not holding the phone. “You won’t see him here…it’s too much. He’s an avoider. One of his quirks. He’s convinced himself you’ll never see him.” 

Villain leveled him with a gaze, “I know.”

I know everything about him…

Villain vowed right then, one way or another, she was breaking out.

Present

Assistant Director felt his knees pop as he climbed the stairs in his home. 

God, it had been a terrible day. 

First, Director dragged him to the interagency cooperation meeting, claiming Assistant Director knew the ins and outs of the procedural chain of command better than they did. 

Then, Director took him out to lunch to a quaint little sushi place that just opened round the corner, “I know you have a particular pallet, my boy. But I think this is more than up to your standards!” The food was fine, great even, but Assistant Director could have done with less of the glory days talk. 

Finally, he was stuck late going over the  piles of new requisition forms, Director claiming that Assistant Director was the only one ‘detailed oriented’ enough to field them as their quartermaster was conveniently out sick today. 

If Agent Haggarty thought Assistant Director was going to approve yet another ankle holster, they had another thing coming! 

He’d make Haggarty and their slippery ankles an example if he had to. Most of the agents held a respectful fear of Assistant Director, and he wanted to keep it that way. 

Assistant Director sighed as he made it to his bedroom door. He thumped his head against the hard wood as he willed the energy to open it.

He knew why Director gave him all those assignments. Why Director had been filling his schedule up to the brink with even the most mundane tasks. 

His boss was trying to distract him. 

Ever since the news hit both their desks last week. 

Villain escaped. No leads. 

God, it was torture. And Director knew it. Knew how Assistant Director functioned.

So they gave him a to-do list and hoped maybe he wouldn't do something stupid. 

Director also insisted on a protection detail, though Assistant Director had negotiated it down to a couple of agents stationed outside his house. 

‘Villain won’t come for me,’ he’d insisted. ‘She’s far too smart. She’ll be halfway to Aruba by now.’

Or O’ahu, but he’d kept that to himself. 

Once in his bedroom, he shucked his clothes as fast as his achy joints would allow and slipped into a clean pair of boxers and a large Led Zeppelin t-shirt. He found just enough energy to do his nightly routine (making sure everything from himself to his bedroom was clean and in order) before practically falling onto the bed.

He wasn’t sure if it was the day’s endless tasks that did him in, or the emotional roller coaster his brain insisted on riding ever since Villain’s escape. 

Sleep hit him instantly. 

Something woke him. 

He’d rolled onto his stomach at some point, and kicked most of the covers off, that and the cotton in his brain told him he had slept for a few hours at least. But what woke him?

Creek.

His eyes flew open. He recognized the sound of the squeaky floorboard in front of his bathroom. 

Pretend to be asleep, he chanted to himself. Pretend to be asleep and slowly, ever so slowly, move your arm until it’s near the Smith & Wesson on the side table…make it look like you're adjusting in your sleep…

SHIT! A large weight landed on his back before he even moved an inch. With speed that rivaled a cat, Assistant Director was pinned as knees dug into his bare thighs and a clawed hand gripped the back of his neck. 

“Move and you’re dead you little rat,” seethed a voice. 

“Second!” He gasped, but was cut off as the nails dug deeper, a slight electric current humming with dangerous potential. 

“You should really train your guys better,” Second chuckled. Assistant Director felt a chill at the sound. This was not the Second they knew from before…something was different…something was worse. 

“You didn’t!” Assistant Director moved to buck them off, but a well placed hand between his shoulderblades, along with a flex along his neck stilled him. 

“Ha! You bet I did! All too easy,” Second flipped their hair and Assistant Director felt the weight shift on his legs. “Bet you hate that part of the job, no? Being the boss and all, guess it’s up to you to give the death notifications…But I wonder…who does the death notify if it’s you? Would it have to be the big boss? The head honcho who’s never seen without their faithful lapdog? Then again, who would they even tell?”

“You motherfuck…” “ah…ah…ah” Second tisked. They leaned their head down so their lips were just grazing Assistant Director’s ear. He felt the pressure on his neck and back. “None of that now. We have better things to talk about, you know.”

“Where’s Villain?” he ground out, hoping Second didn’t lean anymore or his neck would snap.

“Always straight to the point. Nice to see you haven’t changed.” 

A light tingling stretched down his neck, Second’s power leaking ever so slightly through their fingertips. It traveled until it met the hand on his back. Like a locked circuit.

“How far is your little agency in tracking us?” Second’s breath, wreaking, played along the shell of his ear. “What do they know?”

Assistant Director squirmed, but the tingling amped up to almost painful. 

“Come now Assistant Director,” Second said mockingly. “You’re a smart man, you know what I have set up here.”

His breath thumped out of him as they pressed more firmly into the hand between his shoulders. 

“Two hands, one connection…just a little juice from me,” Second punched out a volt, Assistant Director yelped as the pain seized up his neck and shoulders and made his heart jump. “And I can stop your heart without letting your brain know what’s going on…keeping you awake,” Second sent another jolt, “alert” then another, “and aware that you're dying…knowing nothing can stop it.” 

“Second…” He gasped, sweat trailing his brow. 

“What do they know?” They seethed. 

“I don’t…” Another jolt and Assistant Director fought to keep in the cry. “I don’t know!”

“You’re lying…”

“I’m not lying! I was deemed too close. I’m not involved in the investigation.”

“But you know who is!” This time the jolt was longer, causing Assistant Director to yell despite his best efforts. His muscles seized and his hand gripped the sheets. 

“I don’t!” 

He did. 

“For once in your life stop lying!” 

Jolt.

“We both know there is nothing that goes on in this city that you don’t know about!” 

Jolt.

“Now who’s leading the investigation?!”

Jolt. 

Partner. 

“You’ll have to kill me.” Assistant Director's voice was horse, it sounded as if he'd been screaming for hours, yet it had only been minutes. 

Second leaned back in silence. The current between his neck and shoulders faded as the weight on his legs increased. 

“Some things never change,” they mused. “Loyal to a fault, yet never to the right people.” 

“Pickles.” He rasped. 

“Excuse me?” Second chuckled. “Is that pretty brain of yours fried already?” 

“Just thinking about what would smell better than your breath right now.”

Sharp nails pierced his skin along his shoulders as Second hefted themselves off him. With the amount of residual electricity in his muscles, he couldn’t even turn his head to look and see what Second was doing. It was a nightmare in and of itself. Hearing but unable to move. 

He was ripped from the bed and thrown to the floor, hard wood smacking against the back of his head. 

Second leered over him. 

“If that’s how you want to play it, I’ll gladly make this a two for one special…hope your precious agency is worth it.”

“Wait,” He didn’t get to finish. Second’s large hand covered his eyes and he knew nothing but darkness. 

(Ten miles north)

Partner shook the grogginess from his mind as he blindly felt for his phone that buzzed incessantly. 

He squinted at the bright notification that appeared. Then felt all sleepiness and annoyance leave him as the cold reality of the message held his heart in a vice-like grip.

…HOME SECURITY SYSTEM ACTIVATED…

…ASSISTANT DIRECTOR - NAME…

…INITIATE CODE WORD ‘PICKLES’...

…UPPER EAST BEDROOM FOOTAGE LAST HOUR SAVED…

…LIVE FEED INCOMING…

…PROTOCOL RED…

He was already on his landline with Director as he watched the footage of his friend being interrogated and dragged from his bedroom. 

(Unknown Location)

When Assistant Director woke again, it was to a splitting headache and knives in every one of his muscles. 

With a groan he rolled over, feeling concrete bite into his knees, starkly reminding him that he only dorned a pair of boxers and a thin t-shirt. The cold seeped into his bones and, had his muscles not been so weak, he was sure he’d be shivering like crazy. 

Everything hurt.

Sometimes he really hated not having powers. 

“Well look who’s up?” 

Assistant Director struggled to sit himself up, only able to shakily prop up on his arms, as he lifted his head to face the voice. 

He was in a warehouse of somekind…heavily damaged, empty, and haunting. The rafters overhead creaked and groaned in an ominous manner, the windows long since knocked out, letting in the chilled night air. 

Air that held a certain salty smell to it.

And a light that hung overhead, swinging from side to side.

Dear god, they were back in the warehouse…that warehouse. 

“I knew you would recognize it.”

Assistant Director met the eyes of Second. They stood tall and intimidating only a few feet away. They seemed quite unworried that Assistant Director would try anything, not that he could, not with his legs still so weak. 

They weren’t alone, kneeling at their side, arms secured behind them, was a figure who had a dark hood covering their face. Second gripped them by the back of the neck, much like they had done with Assistant Director. 

“I’ll ask again, who’s in charge of finding Villain and I?”

The hooded figure gave a little shake in protest, grunting as Second no doubt sent a jolt through them. 

“Apologies, my companion isn’t completely onboard with my methods at the moment…no matter, once we’re done here I’m sure all will come together.”

Assistant Director studied the figure, slim, hunched, yet bunched tight in poorly concealed rage. 

“Second,” he croaked. “Who is that?”

At the sound of his voice, the figure visibly jumped. They tried to dig out of Second’s grasp despite the, no doubt, pain shocks being sent through them. As Second grunted in effort to hold them, an unholy muffled screech sounded from under the hood.

“Second!” Assistant Director exclaimed, cold realization shot through his chest and settled in the pit of his stomach. “Who is that?!”

“Ugh!” Second rolled their eyes as they stabilized their struggling figure. “Ruin the surprise why don’t ya? Fine.”

They ripped off the hood and there, bloody, bruised, gagged and thin was Villain. 

His Villain. Eyes watering in pain, anger coiled in every muscle. 

“Villain…” he whispered, taking in the scene before him. He struggled to get his feet under him, but only accomplished his knees. 

Her eyes drunk him in like he was water in the desert. It was as if she was trying to memorize everything that might have changed in the time they were apart.

“All day every day for three years we created the perfect plan to break out,” Second let go of Villain’s neck to grip her hair, in the stumble Assistant Director saw the glint of the power inhibitor cuffs. “And last week, we finally did it…home free…nothing to stop us from building an empire again…except…”

Second gave Villain an ugly sneer.

“All she wanted was to see her precious Henchman again. No matter that it was too dangerous, no matter that he was the one who  betrayed us in the first place…no matter it wasn’t Henchman who stayed up all those nights with her…planned with her…supported her…no, of course, all that mattered was the fuckboy who ruined EVERYTHING!” 

Second yanked Villain’s head, training it straight on Assistant Director. 

“Well there you go sweetie!” Second also stared at him, taking in his disheveled appearance. Blood leaked from the gashes on his shoulders as well as from the cut on his head. His form shook with exertion and his arms and legs had goosebumps from their state of undress. “You got to see him! No starched shirts, no ironed pants, hell, not even a pair of shoes! Just the pathetic, little, mundane, that he is!” Second leaned in close to Villain, “And always was.”

“Villain…” he tried again. Her entire body was quaking and her eyes, though streaked with pain, held a rage he’d never seen before. 

Their eyes met, they held a silent conversation…as if no time had passed. 

He shifted to look at Second,

“I’m going to kill you,” he stated. “You hurt her. I’m going to kill you.”

“Haha!” Second cackled and their hand loosened on Villain’s hair. “And how, exactly, do you plan to do that? You can’t even stand! You’re the one who’s going to die today, Assistant Director. You’ll scream as she watches, and no one will come to save you.”

Just as Second leaned in to emphasize the last word, Villain sprung up with a snarl. She knocked her head straight into Second’s nose resulting in a resounding crack!

With an agility Assistant Director never possessed, Villain shot forward like a bullet, right for him. 

But Second recovered quickly. 

Power crackling, Second screamed as they sprung forward after her, hard outstretched to grip Villain with the intention to subdue. 

With every ounce of willpower he possessed, Assistant Director threw himself at Villain. He practically rolled over top of her, and gripped the chain length connecting her wrists behind her back. 

Second’s attack, meant for Villain, hit him right between the shoulder blades.

He’d never felt pain like this. 

His scream echoed through the empty warehouse as the electricity coursed through him…

And straight into the cuffs. 

They burst apart. 

Before Second could even contemplate what happened, Villain snarled, grabbed and threw them across the space. 

A resounding and sickening crunch signaled it was the end. 

Assistant Director tried to steadied himself on unsteady arms, wondering how in the world his heart was still beating. He coughed and tasted metal and bile. 

It all went to the cuffs. He was saved because it all redirected into the cuffs…

Damn, he definitely needed to meet with a cardiologist after this. 

Delicate hands smoothed over his forehead, swiped down to his cheeks and brought his head up. 

“Henchman…oh god…” Villain had tears in her eyes, whether it was her injuries or seeing him again that caused the tremor, he didn’t know, but he relished her touch. “Where did they hurt you?”

“I'm okay,” his voice cracked. “You…you’re hurt…”

He was enveloped in a bone crushing hug. He clung back with desperation. 

“None of that matters now.”

The sound of shouting and banging assaulted their ears. 

“Name!” He heard Partner call for him. 

“Assistant Director!” Came the shouts of more agents. 

Villain stiffened in his arms. 

Thinking quickly, or maybe not thinking at all, Assistant Director took off his thin shirt, “Lay against me,” he said and he pushed her head down to press against his bare stomach, her nose tickling his naval. 

With his shirt he covered what remained visible of her face and hair. He clung to her and willed her not to move. 

Trust me, he wanted to say, but dared not. Still, she seemed to understand. 

“Name!” Partner gasped as he skidded to a halt beside him. 

“Assistant Director!” Cried Director, who was not far behind. “Good god lad! What did they do to you!” 

The elder instantly took off his jacket and laid it over Assistant Director’s bare shoulders, covering the electrical burns. 

“Name…” Partner uneasily knelt beside them, taking in the individual with a covered head. Assistant Director pressed her closer to him. 

“Second is dead, over there,” he gestured with his head. The two took in the broken body beyond. 

They looked back expectantly.

“This is a civilian…Second took her…um…though I would talk if they…” Partner’s eyebrows rose and Director’s posture hardened. “She has a head wound, so you know…”

He felt his lie die in his throat. There was no way they’d get away with this. 

They stared at him in silence, the seconds ticking by, his heart hammering. VIllain held one arm around his waist and it tightened with each moment. 

“Please…” Assistant Director broke. A tear finally breaking through his shield. 

Partner sighed, “Name…”

“A head wound you say?” Director grunted. They studied the couple, each clinging to the other. “Well, I guess you’d better keep that covered.”

Assistant Director’s eyes widened. He nodded slowly, “Yes, sir. Of course, sir.”

Director gripped a confused Partner by the arm and hauled him away. “Best we secure the perimeter.” 

Leaning over, Assistant Director felt all the tension drain from him. He pressed his lips to her shoulder and left them there as he deflated. 

Or at least, he probably had been before Villain showed up at his doorstep in the middle of the night. Now his appearance clashed with the look on his face which was all too familiar. 

A look that was a cross between, pissed off, hurry up, and begrudging intrigue. 

Normally that face was paired with an impeccable suit, but even with the change in attire it was no less intimidating. 

The famous Assistant Director of the Investigation Agency. The young upstart with no powers who somehow holds his own against every super powered villain and hero alike in the entire city; using nothing but intelligence, tenacity, and a hell of a lot of bureaucracy. 

Villain hated the man.

Villain needed the man. 

Villain needed him to save Photographer. 

“The same way you know where I live,” Assistant Director twirled a pencil between his fingers, leveling it in a way that resembled a cigarette. 

“What?” Villain inquired. 

“How I know you take ice,” Assistant Director elaborated. “The same way you know where I live.” 

Villain nodded. Point taken. 

Assistant Director replaced the pencil with his glass, rolling it in his hand one…two…three times before taking a sip. 

Villain sipped theirs. It burned from the moment it touched their tongue to its landing in their stomach. If it were anyone else, Villain might have worried about poison, but not Assistant Director. Sure, he was terrifying, brutal, and had a track record that could rival Donnie Brasco; but he was also methodical, curious, by-the-book, and unbelievably fair.

That was why Villain was here. 

Villain was positive Assistant Director could put them behind bars for any number of reasons and for any number of years if he wanted…but Villain was also banking on that famous sense of justice the man had. If the rumors were correct there was no way Assistant Director would let an innocent civilian, ie Photographer, remain in the situation they were in. 

The glass rolled one, two, three, times as Assistant Director took another sip,

“Why are you here, Villain?” The hard edged voice sounded tired.

Villain looked down in their glass, the amber liquid getting lighter as the ice melted. 

“I…” Villain started. How to approach this…it had to be perfect. They needed him on their side. “Rumor on the street is you started out in undercover.”

Assistant Director lifted an eyebrow, “Hardly a secret.” 

Villain lifted their gaze, “But you didn’t stay there long. Moved up the ranks rather fast.”

One, two, three turns and Assistant Director took another sip.

“Are you here to discuss my ambition?” He questioned. Both knew the topic of his age, or rather lack thereof, was common gossip among heroes and villains alike. 

“More to question your motivation,” Villain paused to tip back some of their own drink. “Why not stick around? You were apparently very good at it. Maybe even the best.” 

Assistant Director shrugged, “Perhaps I didn’t care for it.” 

Villain chuckled ruefully, the old scotch making the sound raspy. “No one is that good at something they don’t care for.” 

One, two, three, sip. Assistant Director tipped his head to the side considering. 

“That’s true, in a way. And in this case accurate. I did enjoy undercover when I started, but what’s that to do with you? I don’t believe we ever ran in the same circles, even then.” 

“No, but I had done a few jobs for Other Villain…” Villain watched as Assistant Director rolled his glass, one, two…he froze. “...before you took her down, that is.” 

Villain studied Assistant Director’s face. It was still, frozen, no emotion. Except the eyes. His eyes held everything. Every secret, every angle, every memory that Villain was not privy to. 

A long moment stretched. 

“And?” The hard tone broke the silence. When Villain looked up, they found Assistant Director’s gaze piercing their own. His glass stayed unmoving in his hand. 

“And that victory gave you a reputation among Villains and Heroes,” Villain spoke. “No one can outwit you. Powers, no powers, doesn’t matter. Not even the best of us stood a chance.” 

The gaze remained. 

“And?” He questioned once more. 

This was it. 

“And…” Villain leaned forward, “I need you to do it again.” 

The hard look broke to one of total confusion. “Again?” 

“Yes!” Villain’s insides were twisting in apprehension. “Again.”

Assistant Director was even more confused. “I don’t…”

“Not the undercover,” Villain cut in. “The outwitting. I need you to do what you do best.”

Assistant Director leaned back in his chair, “But Other Villain is…” he gestured out and up helplessly. 

“Not Other Villain…Hero.” 

Two eyebrows shot up. “Hero?” 

“Yes! Hero is not who you think they are,” Villain haphazardly put their drink on the table as they leaned even more into Assistant Director’s personal space. This was it. It needed to be perfect. 

They needed his help.

They needed his help. 

They needed his help!

“And I have proof, well Photographer has proof, or at least they have proof somewhere!” 

So much for perfect. Try frenzied. 

“Wait, Photographer?” 

Villain felt the weight of the day’s discoveries push them. “They’re the one who killed Agent!” 

Assistant Director let out a disbelieving huff, “Photographer killed Agent? I don’t think so…”

“Not Photographer! Hero! Hero killed Agent and Photographer has the proof!”

Silence.

For the first time since Villain had ever seen him, Assistant Director looked…stunned. 

“Hero killed Agent,” he repeated slowly. 

Villain nodded. “And Photographer was there. Got the pictures.” 

“With that 1950s Kodac of theirs.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. Of course, everyone who read the paper knew Photographer favored a certain style. Villain wasn’t surprised Assistant Director knew the make and model just by the pictures in the news alone. 

“Yes.” 

“Where is Photographer now?” Assistant Director asked. 

“That’s just it,” Villain lowered their voice. They couldn’t help the shake of it as they thought of Photographer locked up, trapped in their own home…with a monster. “Hero has them.”

“Explain.”

And Villain did. 

Everything. 

Hero acting suspicious the last few months, the text from Reporter stating Photographer was in trouble, Villain breaking every traffic law to get to the harbor, the body, Villain thinking it was Photographer, the rage, the fight with Hero, Villain losing control…Photographer taking a picture of Villain losing control…fear in their eyes…Hero knowing Photographer had the film, Hero imprisoning Photographer in their very own apartment, Villain tracking Photographer down, the sign language…the bruises…the hidden film that only Photographer knew where. 

“...and I can’t…I can’t get them out on my own…” Villain finished. “They’ll never be safe from Hero even if I did. I need Hero taken down…Taken to justice…if Photographer is truly going to be safe.” 

Silence followed the tirade. Villain’s mouth was dry. It felt as though they had been talking for hours, though they knew it hadn’t been more than fifteen minutes. They felt panicked, open and raw. They hadn’t meant to get emotional, yet it had happened. Out of all the people to see Villain at their most vulnerable, their most desperate…they never suspected it would be Assistant Director. 

“You truly care for them,” Assistant Director spoke softly. 

“They’re the only decent person in this entire city. Present company included.” 

 “Too right.” 

Assistant Director leaned in to Villain, scotch almost spilling as he matched Villain’s pose, “So what do you propose?” 

Villain felt a spark of hope, “You’re going to help?” 

Assistant Director drew out his next breath in contemplation. Villain could see him weighing the pros and cons in his mind. 

Methodical bastard. 

 “It’s not going to be easy,” he relinquished. “Hero is powerful, both in their actual powers and their connections. I can call in every favor owed to me and it still might not be enough.”

“You did it with Other Villain, and she had the highest connections I knew of.”

“I had different tactics then.” Assistant Director straightened and placed his glass on the table right in the center of a wooden coaster. 

“But the same mind. That’s all we need.” 

“Your confidence is appreciated, but perhaps overestimated.” 

“You’re the only one Hero is afraid of. We can use that.” Villain pressed. They needed Assistant Directors help. They needed him to agree. 

“Reputation can only get you so far,” Assistant Director countered. 

Please!

“Please,” Villain whispered. “Please.”

It was the first time in their life they ever begged. 

Assistant Director studied them, calculating, no doubt taking in the pathetic distress written all over Villain’s face.

With a huff and a release of his shoulders he placed one finger on Villain’s forehead and pushed them back to sitting upright in their seat. 

“Keep your pants on, Villain.” He said in his signature business tone of voice. “Of course I’m going to help. No need for hysterics.”

Yes, yes, yes, yes! With Assistant Director they had a chance! 

“So, where do we start?” 

“The film.” Villain declared firmly. “We find the film, we have what we need to both lure Hero away and convict them. We just need a plan on how to do that without making Photographer expendable in their eyes.” 

“The film taken with the 1950s Kodak Vito B,” Assistant Director stated. 

“It’s their favorite,” Villain acquiesce. “It has to be somewhere not too far. Photographer never left the city after the incident and I’m sure Hero would have already checked the postage.” Villain ran a hand through their hair in thought. “They never told Reporter or Editor, wouldn’t want them involved I suspect…Photographer must have left some clue though. Something small in the event they couldn’t get to it. Maybe in our signs…”

While Villain rambled, Assistant Director stood and walked over to a hard wood desk in the corner. Placing his gun on the smooth surface, he reached into his pocket, removed a key and unlocked the bottom drawer. 

“So we begin by searching for the film.” Villain concluded. They watched Assistant Director’s back for any sign of agreement. 

“No.” Assistant Director had removed a small box from the drawer and was unlying the twine that surrounded it. 

“What do you mean no?! Finding the film is the only way to gain some leverage on Hero and get Photographer back!” 

“No, I mean no we don’t have to search.”

“And why wouldn’t we search?” Villain spouted. 

Villain’s breath left them as Assistant Director turned around. 

There in Assistant Director’s hand was a small black tube. Shiney, fragile, with an orange sticker on the side labeled Kodak Vito B.

“Because I already have it.”