The hero wanted to believe it was one of their friends, an agency member, someone else, anyone else, they would have taken a burglar at this point.

But no. No friend, agency member, or burglar would leave the front door open so purposefully, so dauntingly.

They knew this day would come, they just didn’t imagine it would be so soon.

The light turned on.

“Where have you been?” The villain asked from the lounge chair, petting the hero’s cat.

It was very obviously a rhetorical question, the villain knew where the hero had been, because now the villain was here, too.

The hero’s eyes flicked down to their purring cat comfortable in the villain’s lap, back up to the villain’s expectant face.

“I was–am on an assignment.” They wondered how fast they would have to be to get their cat and then get to the panic button.

Not fast enough.

If they needed to be placating, they could be. It would what drew the villain to them, they knew that now.

“An assignment that takes six months?” The villain asked, lazily waving their free hand around. “An assignment that gives you this? It’s cutesy, comfortable. Too small for my taste, but you know that.”

It was a test hidden behind poisonously pleasant words.

Will you be telling me the truth? Are you foolish enough to lie?

A question the hero didn’t want to answer, but there were limited options.

Placate, placate, placate.

“It’s my final assignment.” The hero clenched their fists, nails digging into skin, forcing upon them clarity to think, a reminder not to stutter, not to feel. “Going civilian, for my safety.”

“Oh?” The villain’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second. “Do tell. What was so dangerous that your little agency felt the need to give you an identity change?

Another test.

“It was noted that the others–other–other villains,” The hero forced themselves to take a breath in, and clenched their fists even harder. “were targeting me, thinking it would hurt you.”

“Mm.” The villain cocked their head to the side, looking at the hero in an indecipherable way.

Disappointment? Amusement? Hunger?

The hero was never able to tell.

“Well. I can admit my faults, but this is an easy fix, my darling. I’ll handle the others. Now, the car’s been running just a bit too long, so if we could?”

The villain stood, still holding the hero’s cat.

“I can’t.” The hero’s fists unclenched, wondering if their cat could be swayed to jump from the villain’s arms. “I signed a contract. If I re-emerge, I could be considered an active threat, measures would be taken against me, um, I can’t.”

The villain smiled. “Now that is a bigger problem, but I could garner a few solutions. Come along, we can even bring…” They trailed off, looking at the cat’s name tag. “Chestnut.”

“I’ll become a public enemy. I don’t own the name Hero, I just use it, I–”

“And that’s the very problem, isn’t it?” The villain let Chestnut jump from their arms, watching the hero’s shoulders relax ever so slightly. “This day and age of heroics and villainy, it’s all very theatrical. We used to do this because of values, morals, plans for world domination.”

They gave the hero a once over.

“The other heroes are good at the limelight, thrive, even, it’s the whole reason they sign the contracts and take the name, but they can’t beat you in character, and the numbers of casualties in their fights versus yours speaks volumes. You weren’t good at the attention, not until I got to you, at least.”

“And I thank you for the help, but I’m done with the cameras, interviews, the saving people.”

“What a shame. You used to talk about being a symbol, about helping people, a hero through and through, not any of that pretending you’re a movie star. It’s what makes you…”

“Malleable?”

“I was going to say unique. No need for the dramatics.”

When the hero didn’t respond, didn’t move, didn’t even look like they were breathing, the villain’s polite mask dropped.

The hero hated that, how easily the villain could switch around their personality. They also hated the villain’s unblinking eyes.

The villain could blink, the hero was sure, but whenever it was just the two of them, the villain always made sure to be constantly watching.

“As I said, I can think of a few solutions to your problems.” They held out an expectant hand. “Shall we?”

“You were using me.” The hero blurted out. “You weren’t trying to help me be better, you were–you were–”

“I was what?”

“Making me into a tool. You would have turned me into a monster.”

The villain scoffed. “A monster? Please. You would have been beloved by the world, no contract or agency could hold you, you would have been second to none.”

“Except you.” The hero noticed that Chestnut was curling around the villain’s legs, slowly realizing that their best option at this point might have been to turn heel. “I would have been second to none except you.”

The villain smiled again, though it looked more like an animal bearing their teeth in annoyance.

“Eventually not. Once we’ve finished with the others, all the theatrics and the celebrity treatment, we could begin the real work. We could be equals, my darling.”

“You were manipulating me so that you could have the perfect opponent?” The hero felt bile rise in their throat.

There was evidence of the villain using them, solid proof shown directly after that scolding from the agency for allowing a villain to mentor them, but to hear it from the villain themselves was something else entirely.

“Twist my words in whatever way you’ll have. We both win. You won’t have to worry about the performance of being a hero, you can simply go out and save the day how you like. Tell me it’s not tempting. Now, it has been a treat tracking you down, my darling, they hid you well, but I must insist we leave. There’s a long drive ahead of us.”

“No.”

Chestnut had wandered closer to the hero.

“Ah, would you prefer we fly? It’s not my favorite, but–”

“I’m not going with you.” They reached down slowly, picking up Chestnut, hoping to make it look as though they were holding her for comfort.

The villain watched, their jaw clenched, anger barely concealed.

“I made you.” They seethed through an unusually quiet voice. “And if I have to, I will break you, and build you up again.”

The hero took a step back. “Find another hero to manipulate.”

With a deep breath, the villain collected themselves, never breaking eye contact with the hero.

“You know, part of the plan was to make you fall in love with me.” They admitted, taking only a step forward to match the hero’s step back. “Or at least have you grow fond enough of me that you wouldn’t betray me so easily. But obviously, it didn’t work. Lucky for the both of us, I can work with fear. You have an abundance of that, don’t you?”

The hero turned heel.

Oscar witnessing John drag Arthur out of bed for the sole reason he can feel Arthur's hunger now and hates it.

Oscar: So that's the John you talked about?

Arthur face down on the floor: Unfortunately

Shin’s stomach clenches when Sabine ghosts her mouth near her navel, and a strangled, unhappy sound weasels out of their throat. 

Sabine’s eyes are wide when she pulls back and her mouth is set in a small, open smile. “Did you just– Are you ticklish?” 

She’s not sure why the idea sounds so absurd – Shin’s only human – but somehow the thought of her getting tickled as Sabine kisses her stomach feels like an even more insane thought than the two of them fucking. 

Shin’s glare could melt steel. “Don’t.”

Sabine’s thumb sweeps gently over their stomach, but before she can even make up her mind if she wants to test them, breath chokes off in her throat, Shin’s Force grip on her warning enough for Sabine to lift her hand in surrender. 

When she can breathe again, she nods and rubs her throat. 

“Noted,” she says seriously, and means it. 

Basically there are “Legends” who are people with predetermined fates and gifts given to them by who the hell knows. There are schools all around the universe specifically to train these Legends and teach them their destinies.

Every year new Legends are chosen at random to fulfil their roles and they cannot refuse. They either go willingly or they basically become prisoners in the school.

There are three types of Legends; Heroes, Villains or Support.

Heroes are basically what it says on the tin, they are fated to save others and be upstanding members of the community. People look up to Heroes and kids dream about being one.

Villains are the unluckiest of the bunch, they’re fated to hurt others even if they don’t want to. Of course there are some that are overjoyed to be a Villain but for others it’s like a death sentence.

Support are fated to be side characters with no exceptions, their destiny is to be secondary to a Hero or Villain. Unlike Heroes and Villains, Support Legends pretty much never are given a Gift (I’ll explain that soon) and are mostly forgotten by the general public.

“You look beautiful.” The villain murmured, their lips light above the hero’s knuckles before letting go.

“You look hideous.”

It warranted a laugh from the villain, leaving the hero to wonder what was humorous in this situation.

“Shall we?” The villain extended a hand.

And in those fineries that the villain had prepared for them, the hero knew there was no other option than to take the hand, and to dance.

Dance they did, gliding across the floor in a beautiful grace, one might be breathless if they were actually watching.

But the hero knew that they weren’t watching, they were just there, dolls under the villain’s control.

“Do you have to have them here?”

“The other villains and heroes? Yes, I want them to see you.”

“But they don’t see me, not really, not when you’re in their heads.”

The villain made a humming sound, thinking of how best to phrase it.

“Think of it like a trance, they are there, they just can’t move.”

Ah, the hero was wrong. It just made the villain’s ability more horrifying, knowing that their friends were in there somewhere, trapped and waiting to get out, waiting for someone to save them.

And save them they would, the hero just needed to keep dancing.

So they let themselves be dipped, twirled, waltzed around while some lovely orchestra played some lovely song.

“Wouldn’t it be easier to do that to me?” The hero asked. “Rather than…” they couldn’t say it.

“Control the rest?” The villain could say it, of course they could. “I guess it would be. But I don’t want to, not to you. I respect you too much. I love you too much.”

“Don’t say that.”

The lovely song ended.

“What shall I say instead?”

“Say that you’ll let them go.” The hero pleaded. “Say that you’ll end it all.”

Another lovely song began, and the hero, somewhere in the back of their mind, wondered if the orchestra was also controlled by the villain, or if they were just paid handsomely.

The villain didn’t speak for a moment, they simply pulled the hero into another dance.

“I could have taken this whole city by storm.” They began. “I could have each and every civilian in my mind’s influence, and it would be painfully easy. Is that what I’m doing? No. I’m dancing with the person I want, in the place I want, surrounded by people we consider friends, the people who fight pointlessly. I want them to see that I could have stopped them all, that the fighting isn’t a choice so long as I’m here. The city’s greatest enemies in the same room together, and they have no choice but to listen. I’m not a villain, Hero.”

Ok, maybe the villain wasn’t doing the worst thing they could have been doing, but it didn’t make their methods anymore right. It didn’t make this right.

“And you think this is how you get it done? What’s next, world peace?”

“I don’t care about the rest of the world, I care about my corner, I care about this city.”

The second lovely song ended.

“Now what?”

“Now, there’s no more squabbling, they know that there will be consequences.” The villain shot the crowd of heroes and villains a look. “Now, I love how I like, and how I like is with you.”

The hero really didn’t know how to respond, so the villain continued.

“Do you remember fighting me? Back when I could only control one person at a time? The others,” they motioned to the heroes. “always had a group of four, for when I inevitably turned one against the rest. You came alone, you didn’t want to fight your own team, so you faced me by yourself. I knew I couldn’t control you then and there, I would never want to risk destroying the compassion and personality that I so rarely see in the others.”

The hero frowned. “The others have personality, compassion, kindness. That isn’t unique to me.”

In turn, the villain stared. “I’m in their heads, Hero. You shouldn’t lie to me on their behalf. I know the things they think, the anger they have, especially towards you.”

That made the hero step back. “Towards me?”

“They assumed I held my punches when it came to you. It didn’t matter if every other villain didn’t, because I did, and that was enough to earn their…hatred isn’t it, but it’s turning to hate now, as they see you with me, not stuck like them.”

“I didn’t ask you to let me go free.”

“Did you hear that?” The villain said, the message directed towards the frozen crowd, all the while still looking at the hero. “They didn’t ask for my affections, nor did they ask me to do this to you.”

The hero didn’t want to ask, but they wanted to know. “Do they still hate me?” And then another thought crossed their mind. “Or are you lying to me so that I’m swayed to your side?”

“There are no sides, Hero, that’s my whole point.”

They held out their hand for another dance, but the hero refused.

“Let them go, please.”

The villain cast a sweeping glance towards the crowd.

“And you will stay with me?”

“Yes.”

“Then it is as you wish.”

The crowd began to move again, some in marionette like movements, jerky and delayed, others more fluid, jumping back into the motion denied to them like an old friend.

But no one attacked each other, no one went towards the villain or the hero, no one dared to cross the one who could easily take control like that again.

“My gift to you, peace in the city. And now, we dance.”

The hero took the villain’s hand.

Their gaze feels crushing when they meet Sabine’s eye again and there’s a faint push of something at the corner of Sabine’s mind that leaves her feeling hollow after. When Shin leans over to glance at her hands still trapped behind her back, it dawns on Sabine that Shin was feeling out for where she was hurt. Her gut twists. 

Trying to recall Ahsoka’s teachings, she works to quiet her mind and draw up her walls to block Shin out. She squeezes her palms into defiant fists. 

Shin stalks behind her and reaches for her clenched hands. In the polished chrome of the door in front of her, she can make out the reflection of Shin’s disgruntled frown. 

“Open your hands.” One of theirs fights to open Sabine’s.