#witeblr

Part One

“You’re kidding me." Villain slapped her forehead, dragging the hand slowly down her face. "Of all the thousands of henchmen I could've picked, of all the dozens of departments, I chose a culinary minion? I might as well have brought a rolling pin! Or a donut!"

Henchman frowned. A whole host of arguments sat on his tongue. She might have realized his department sooner if she had taken a moment to talk instead of ordering him around like a dog. Also, she'd obviously lied about Supervillain asking for him, so she only had herself to blame for this situation, and frankly, he didn't trust anything she said anymore. In fact, he was very suspicious about what she was actually doing all the way out here and why she'd tricked a henchman to come along. Not to mention she'd jeopardized his job, maybe even his life, with her selfishness.

He quickly swallowed it all down. None of it would be met well, and he didn't need to be more on Villain's bad side than he apparently already was. He could defend his power though.

"Well, maybe if let me bake you something--"

"Just shut up." Villain plopped back down on the mattress and rolled the other direction.

Henchman stared at her back for a moment. "Should I still keep watch?"

"You might as well go to bed. You’re useless to me.”

Again with the combat-superiority bias. Henchman bit his tongue. “I might not be a good fighter, but I could still wake you up if there's trouble."

"Do whatever you want."

Fine then. He threw off his shoes, kicked under the covers, and flipped toward the wall, the bed springs squeaking aggressively under his weight.

Why should he break his back helping out a villain who didn’t even appreciate it? This was just so typical villain. What a bunch of pretentious snobs flouncing around with their "special" powers and looking down on everyone else. When it came down to it, it wasn't like Villain was really any different from him. They were both pieces. She was just as much under Supervillain's thumb.

“Excuse me?” Villain snarled.

Henchman stiffened. Did he say that out loud? Which part? How much?

He wet his lips and slowly peeked toward Villain's bed but was instantly thrown down. Villain's knees dug hard into Henchman's forearms while her hands were already around his throat, squeezing just tight enough that there was room for a trickle of breath and little else, certainly not any vocals like screaming or begging. "I'm not under anyone's thumb. Got that? I'm not afraid of anyone. If I wanted, I could finish you right here."

Henchman froze. Some prey ran, some fought back, but he was of the type that went still. Like a possum playing dead or a deer in the headlights. He couldn’t move even if he wanted to. All he could really do was stare helplessly wide-eyed up at her. The ends of her hair tickled Henchman’s cheeks, and she bent close enough that he could pick out the amber specks in her molten eyes and feel the warmth of her breath across the bridge of his nose. She blinked into his gaze, and the snarl on her face softened.

She huffed. You’re just lucky I don’t have the time to clean up a body.” She unstraddled his chest and rose off the edge of the bed.

Henchman coughed a couple times and rubbing away the lingering pressure of her fingertips from his throat. "Bit of an overreaction for someone so sure of herself."

Villain whirled, red mane catching the air before floating back to her shoulders. "Do you want to die?"

Henchman smiled innocently. He was being so stupid. He knew that. But for some reason, he felt if Villain really was the sort of person who killed carelessly, she would have rid herself of him the moment he revealed the mistake. One less witness to her trip, mission, thing.

"Certainly not."

“Then shut. Up.” She flicked off the lamp on her way to her bed, blanketing them in darkness except for the sliver of street light stealing through a gap in the curtains.

“Of course, your eminence.”

Henchman curled back on his side, prey heart pounding even under the cover of freshly conjured snark. He rubbed his throat again. He was probably lucky she’d chosen a physical warning over using her powers. If there was any villain he should actually be showing respect to it was her. A primary power user. She’d been top dog of the city before Supervillain showed up and organized everything. She had the power to rearrange, but he had the power to take apart. And taking apart was so much quicker. So right hand it was.

“Villain?”

“Didn’t I tell you to shut up? I’m trying to sleep.”

“Are you running away?”

“What?” Her eyes caught the light from the street, glowing catlike. “Do you think I’m some sort of cow—”

“It’s ok if you are. I bet you could run your own city.”

She blinked.

“Supervillain’s sort of made it impossible for any sort of natural growth in the organization. He kills people for their mistakes, he pits his subordinates against each other, he doesn’t value any of tertiary power types; sometimes it feels like he doesn’t care about the strength of the organization as long as everyone else stays beneath him. It’s not like he’s at risk of being taken out by anyone. Heroes or otherwise.” Henchman caught himself, quickly shaking out his rant. “I’m just saying that it makes sense to me why you might want to leave. Do your own thing.”

"That's not any of your business." She closed her eyes again and didn't say any more.

Henchman forced his own eyes shut. Despite being tired, his thoughts were filled with Supervillain. His insides twisted into knots, raising a light bout of nausea. He couldn't go back. Henchman might be too valuable to kill, but there was no guarantee. Supervillain's decisions weren't always logical. Henchman was actually a little glad to be away from it all. There had been no hope for escape on his own--Supervillain didn't like being stolen from, and leaving was a theft of yourself--but maybe if he was on Villain's side he'd be ok.

Henchman pulled the covers closer around him. He must have fallen asleep because when he next opened his eyes, the room was lit in the dim blue-gray of early morning. The shower handle squeaked from the other side of the wall, and a few minutes later, Villain emerged in the same clothes as yesterday, hair pulled in a wet bubble braid that reached to the middle of her back. She yanked on her boots and snatched the car keys from the bedside table.

“I'll drop you off at a bus stop, but you'll have to find your own way back.”

Henchman blinked groggily at her, but as it struck he shot upright. "Back?" He gaped at her. "You want me to go back? Alone? With nothing but my own word that you forced me to come with you?"

"Well, it's not like I need you to stay. Two people are much easier to track than one."

"You screwed up my job! I missed my deadline! Supervillain could have me killed!"

"And you'll be better off begging for forgiveness than continuing on."

Henchman frowned. Was she actually looking out for him? "What if became your henchman?"

"What are you even talking about?"

"You're building your own empire, right? You'll need followers. So, I'll be the first one. I'll do everything you don't want to and prove that I'm actually useful."

Villain furrowed her brow, suspicion rearranging the pattern of her freckles. "Why?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're just a random henchman that I've never even met. Why are throwing yourself at me?"

Henchman flushed. "Ok, first of all, I don't think I'd describe it like that. Second, we have met. Last, my powers are 100% support-based. I need a boss, and I'd rather work for you than Supervillain."

"What are you going to do, make me cupcakes?"

"Sure. And pot pie. And buttermilk biscuits. And apple strudel. And--"

"How do you--"

Henchman cut the accusation short. "I know everyone of note's favorites. It was my job. Which was a pretty significant job if you ask me."

"You mildly boost powers, so what?"

"That's not..." Whatever. Henchman wasn't in the mood for convincing someone who obviously didn't want to be convinced. "Nutrition is actually a very critical part of an escape. It keeps you alert, energized, and happy. And anyway, I'm pretty sure I've spent more time being inconspicuous than you have, especially when Supervillain first took over the underbelly. I can help organize things. Give advice." He fiddled nervously with a string on his sleeve. He needed this. "Like...for example, you're going to want to trade out that car. It's nice and all but ultra-trackable. Pretty sure Supervillain has a way to hack cameras."

Villain pressed her lips together so tightly it looked painful. "Fine."

"To which part."

Villain waved her hand in the air and strode for the door. "Fine, you can come, and fine, we'll get a new car. But we're making a shopping run first. I left in a rush. So start thinking of things you need."

Henchman trotted grinning after her. “Flour, sugar, baking powder—”

"Not that. There will be no baking."

Master Taglist:

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WRITING CHARACTERS: ZYA & CO November 14th, my next book, Invisible, releases (pre-order here). It's the first in a young adult dystopian quartet that deals with a lot of disability and has a whole heap of disabled rep. I thought that this week and next, I would take a bit of a deep dive into the characters that make up the book. The story is dual POV and so this week I'll start with Zya and her friends and the things she and they bring to the story and then next week I'll delve into the other POV. So what's the book about? The UK is split into nine self-governing segments. South-West, where Zya is based and has lived her whole life is pretty much similar to the other eight segments with how they deal with things. Zya was not born disabled, but she did have a stroke when she was a baby that paralysed the left side of her body. She's been in a wheelchair, and mostly segregated schools every since. With the book set in the far distant future, it allowed for some tech advances like wheelchairs that were charged by solar power, and were able to be steer by the user's torso movements. Zya's is like this and it gives her more independence than a different kind of chair would. She's seventeen, about to face the Exit Exam, which should, hopefully, allow her to be placed into a working position. Of course there's always the risk of Further Training, something that's painted as a way to help those less able to learn skills that will one day help the segment. Zya, being disabled, is terrified on F.T. It's usually disabled teens who fail the EE and end up there, and they are usually never heard from again. Zya has her best friend, Lena, who's completely abled, and looking forward to the EE herself. The day the book starts, they're both just at school, in lessons, and then all hell breaks loose when several bombs are dropped in the segment, decimating the population, and leaving many injured or sick with an unknown virus. Going from pretty sure she'll never see the working world, to being thrown into the aftermath of the attack, seeing new diagnoses comes from seemingly nowhere, Zya can only watch as one by one every one of her abled friends becomes disabled in some way. And that's when the real work begins. That's when everything starts to slot into place and we follow Zya through her navigating this new and strange world. When I was planning this novel, I had a different kind of plot in mind, but once I got to know Zya, and got to know the world better, I knew it could only go a certain way. Zya was a loud voice in my head telling me what she expected from me and where things were going to go and there was little I could do to disagree. Writing Zya, writing her friends, those disabled before the bombs, and those who became so because of them, was a delight for me. I've had sensitivity readers, editors and the like, all point out the mirror this book holds up to society and the way they view disability and disabled people. I didn't write it with that intent, and this book was written long before COVID became a thing as well, but it does seem fitting to be releasing it into a world that has somewhat experienced the feeling of terror that comes from the unknown. Zya felt like a character that would look at our world and realise that a lot of things were the same as in hers, only hers had gone more extreme in another way. I wanted to tell this story because it wouldn't leave me alone. I'd sit there and think about other plots, and there would be Invisible just demanding to be told. I adore the story, I adore the characters, and while the next three books are written, I'm itching to get started on revising them because I know where this story goes, and know how it ends and I want people to be able to go along this journey with Zya and the others as well! If you want to pre-order Invisible, you can do so here, and if you do pre-order, you can sign up for the pre-order SWAG here, which is open internationally. Any questions? Lemme know in the comments!

🚨🚨 CODE RED! 🚨🚨

Cat Voleur's novella REVENGE ARC is emerging from the Archives SUMMER 2023.

as some of you may -or may not- know, I'm currently working on a novel, and i might want to post something about it here, on this blog.

that being said, english is not my first language, i'm italian, so i can't post some extracts of my novel because basically no one could understand them.

so, if this doesn't completely flop, and it probably will, i might start posting something about it, such as my ocs, the world building, what the whole thing is even about and maybe some concepts that will be apart of it. who knows, maybe i'll post some translated quotes and lines.