#sidekicked

“No, no, no, no, no,” he turned around, gulping from his coffee mug. “You’re not.” 

“I...what?” She tilted her head up as he stomped across the room and then sank cross-legged onto the carpet. It was a nice carpet, probably the nicest carpet she’d ever been unceremoniously dumped onto and was doing a great job of absorbing the blood dripping from her forehead. 

“You’re a sidekick, that’s what you’re classified as, and you’re probably the least interesting sidekick out of the bunch and you’ve been a sidekick longer than any other sidekick out there.” He flopped a thick file beside her face and yanked out the top sheet. “No superhero keeps you for long. The longest you were a sidekick to someone was two years and they sent you off on a six months undercover mission in which you destroyed my mining operation in  Sao Paulo.” 

“Errrr.” She had, eighteen years old and terrified out of her mind, in a country whose language she didn’t speak and customs she didn’t know. Firebreaker had sent her on a mission with the vague orders to ‘Find out what’s going on here’.  

“No one even blamed it on a superhero or a sidekick.” He slapped his chest, outraged. “It got taken down by cops.” 

“I thought the situation should be handled by those who knew the.” 

“That’s the thing!” He exclaimed, and down more coffee. “You spent a year with that Parisan hero and you just....you shut down my art smuggling ring and my wine counterfeiters.” 

“I didn’t mean to bust the wine counterfeiters,” she replied, “It’s such a ridiculous scam thought, but there was this little family owned winery.” 

“I don’t care,” he cut her off for the second time. “My point it is, is that you’re not just the sidekick who’s been the sidekick for too long, you’re literally the reason none of grand schemes have succeeded. I had analysts and people going over every bit of data and it all led back to you! Busting up the small operations and taking down my little mobs...you’re getting in my way.” 

“Okay?” She stared up at him. “So?” 

“I want you to work for me.” He said earnestly. 

“What?” She demanded flatly. 

“Your skills aren’t being recognized!” He held up a document, the numbers too small for her to read. “You’ve cost me over 5 billion dollars in the last few years! Do you know how much 5 billion dollars is? It’s a lot of money!” 

“It’s a lot of money.” She agreed, confused. 

“When was the last time you felt like you were doing something? Huh? When you were appreciated?” 

“I,” she licked her lips, tasting the blood still staining them. “I’m not going to defect.” 

“Why not?” He demanded, thoroughly undignified for a grown man. 

“You’re a villain,” she replied flatly. 

“And you’re doing all of this for people who don’t pay enough attention to you to promote you. Or even people who notice your extraordinary talents and skill. How long did you spend in the undercover job in Germany living as an ex-pat and did anyone say anything when you saved that shipment of gold?” He knew too much, which meant that there was a leak. 

Sighing, she let her head drop against the carpet. It felt good against her head. He was right, as much as she hated to admit it. Spending the last few years shuttled between hero to hero, growing increasingly isolated, unable to make friends with civilians because her job would end soon enough and she couldn’t keep in contact. 

“Aren’t you tired of being alone?” he asked, “aren’t you tired?”  

“I’m fine,” she lied, not bothering to open her eyes. 

“Do they ever send you backup? Do they ever help you? Don’t they ask you how your mission went? Do you even have a home?” 

“You’ve been in our headquarters?” 

“My spies have and I swear you live in a shoebox. You’re like a gerbil that some kid gets for Christmas and refuses to take care of. Did you even like working with Firebreaker?”

“Hmmm,” rolling onto her back, Tully laid still for several seconds. It didn’t matter if she replied, his scheme in Boston was going to go through and that would chip away at the foundation of the heroes home base. 

“Your codename in the official documents is Janitor.” 

“There’s nothing wrong with being a janitor.” 

“I agree. I know, because I pay my janitors, at minimum of 70,000 a year. They are the first line of defense and I give generous bonus’ and promotions, and they use it as an insult! You deserve better than this! Look, look. you don’t have to make up your mind right away. You’re still recovering from jet-lag and the rough handling. I’ll put you up for a bit, you’ll be under guard, and everything, but it’ll be a total spa treatment.” 

Tully frowned and gave a slow nod. “I’m not defecting,” she said, “but I could use a break.” 

“Great!” He smiled, too friendly to be nice. “I’ve got a room with a killer view. I had to stop the construction of a ski chalet to keep it, so I think you’ll like it.” 

She probably would, after all. That was how she’d found this base in the first place. With a slow nod, she watched the handcuffs getting unlocked and tossed aside.