PLEASE. DO. NOT. REBLOG UNLESS TAGGED PERSONALLY BY ME. THIS ISN’T FREE SPECULATION IS MY OWN HEADCANONS AND REASONING.

DO NOT REBLOG 

She stares down at the little rat, uncertain of just how or why it got here in the first place. Its questions clearly make her uncomfortable; her eyes darting off here and there as she mulls over some form of response. 

it’s because you can’t prove my point invalid .

there’s NO ESCAPE, LARRY - LOSER . E N D. O F. T H E. L I N E .

@henchbrat

there’s nothing wrong with a bit of late night TRAINING — especially when you’re working towards such a prestigious goal that your sisters have already long since accomplished .

that’s how mao mao justified the late night exercises. he was in the middle of push ups when he heard a noise. ever ready to pounce on hungry monsters, the hero braced himself towards the door, and, toe beans ready to leap if necessary - !!

and there’s a .. child. no, not A child. the rat brat VILLAIN child ! mao reached for his sword but stumbled when he realized his sheath wasnt on his back. dammit ! what if she .. wait ... is she asleep ?? the cat crouched low, green irises narrowing to dangerous slits. she’s dastardly. she’s a villain ! but .. she’s also a child ... hardly any bigger than adorabat, who was snuggled comfortably in the middle bunk of their room. something suddenly tugged violently at his chest, and the hero found himself at an emotional, moral standstill. cursing silently under his breath, knowing he’d possibly regret this later, mao made a choice.

He actually hadn’t expected to actually ever see her again, but here she was.

Back in a dumpster. Not with Carol, not with Boxman -- on her own, a six to eleven year old run out of her home with nowhere to go.

He’d seen everything that’d happened, he could understand why she ran. He could certainly understand why BOXMAN had left -- after kicking him out, of course. That particular stunt had been nothing but cruel. He hadn’t even said goodbye, just laughed as the inventor walked out of the company he built from the ground up.

He couldn’t face that right now, and he doubted he ever could. Boxman was safer without him around, sure, but the motivations for keeping away was more selfish than that, even if he wouldn’t fully admit it outward.

It had been a week since he’d finally regained control, a week since he’d gone underground again. Seeing the destruction firsthand instead of from the back was chilling. Even for him. A week struggling, a week running. He knew it wasn’t outwardly healthy, but of course healthy was out the window at this point. He’d kicked healthy right on out when he’d agreed for limitless power and was shoved in the trunk of the car while someone else took the wheel.

And they all knew how THAT went.

The man’s heart was in his throat as she turned, too quick for him to flee. He’d gotten used to -- or rather, his destructive fusion had -- gotten used to being able to manipulate and blend into shadows. Being able to disappear. Regular old Venomous could not do such things.

When their eyes locked, he could hear his blood rushing while his thoughts stopped.

“F-- Fink--”

“I -- I thought you were with -- What are you doing here?”