Being Heroes, Being Villains: A Superhero Short Story Anthology - Kindle edition by Winona, Catelyn. Download it once and read it on your Ki
Here is a link to a book you all needed to buy yesterday.
I am not kidding, I stayed up till 4 am reading every single one of these. The sleep deprivation was worth it. If dubious lines of good and evil is your thing this is your book. Also badass characters that finally have human reactions to heroes being heroes.
Summary: Sylvia has two problems. One is a ghost in her house. The other is her husband. (Tw: domestic abuse, violence)
Morgan is not a malevolent spirit.
Her visitors treat her like one. They crawl through her rotting house with cameras clasped in sweaty hands, hissing about evil and violence. They bring out objects of prayer to ward her off. Some of them try to trick her into speaking. Into acting. They spend hours recording the whispering of the wind through the cracks in the attic or the creaking of her home sinking into a century old foundation.
Morgan watches them from the slanted chandelier in the foyer and never says a word.
Truthfully, she doesn’t hate them. They’re alive and addicted to the strange cocktail of hormones the body produces when afraid. She can’t hate what is created by nature.Â
Perhaps that’s why she isn’t a malevolent spirit. She knows addiction and to be alive is to be an addict. Food, water, passion, lust, greed, love, fear. A complex array of cocktails all pumped directly into your receptive brain. The bad ghosts are jealous of it. Greedy for it. And Morgan simply…isn’t.
She has her routines. She stays well out of the way of the people who come to explore her abandoned and withering house. When those who need the shelter of her walls find themselves there late at night, she makes sure that the wind doesn’t blow the doors open, that they choose the rooms with the best windows, that the pests that have started to nest in the roofline don’t wander down.
On days she has no one, she stares out the window of the master bedroom - what used to be her bedroom - into the garden. Her neighbor’s houses shrink and expand, fall apart, get torn down, and then reemerge like new, brightly colored with gleaming windows, but her garden stays the same. The weeds bloom into late spring, pops of white false morning glory all along her wrought iron fence, and wither into long, thin stalks in the winter. The squirrels she once chastised for eating her tomatoes lay down to rest and their descendents descend on the new vegetable patches in the neighborhood.
Then, one day, a man in a white van pulls up. He cracks open the back door and pulls out a long orange banner. This he strings along her fence with precision, pinning it so that it lays flat. He examines his work, nods, pulls out his phone to snap a picture, and then he’s on his way.
When Morgan goes to investigate, she finds the words UNDER DEVELOPMENT emblazoned on the banner.
You scan the briefing documents as your team leader, Mr. Subterranean, drones on. As usual, the pack of graphs and statistics look impressive. As usual, you seem to be the only one at the table who knows they’re wrong. Or, maybe, cares that they’re wrong.
“Crime is down in the 52nd ward by 30% as compared to 2016…”
You take the chance to glance at the nerd. He’s listening to Mr. Subterranean as attentively as you did when you first joined this team of the Hero Force. His hands are folded very nicely on the table and he’s watching Mr. Subterranean lie through his teeth with a very polite look on his face. His thick, coke bottle glasses sitting neatly on top of his black mask hide his eyes, but you bet he’s the only one at the table not daydreaming while the leader talks. He strikes you as a teacher’s pet.
Teacher’s pet glances at you through his peripherals. His mouth twitches, revealing a deep dimple, and then he refocuses on Mr. Subterranean. A chill races down your spine.
You’re not sure why you think he knows, but you’ve got animal instincts. If your brain is screeching at you that your plan is in jeopardy, it is.
What are you going to do about it?
“We can see marked improvement in commerce in Old Downtown thanks to the consideration and dedication shown by our new patrol routes…”
Because you’re watching the new guy, you’re the first one to notice when he raises his hand.
The heroes around the table go still. You’re a small team compared to some others, only five members in total including the leader, but heroes always seem bigger than they are. When all of you start staring at him, it has to feel like a hundred people are. The nerdy guy only sits there with a pleasant, mild smile on his face, one hand raised and the other resting calmly on the table.
“Yes…?” Mr. Subterranean sounds like he’s been asked to improvise after only ever reading off script. He frowns. “Did you have a question, Star Lad?”
See, this is why you don’t remember his hero name. Star Lad? Nerdy guy is infinitely better than anything with Lad in it.
“More of an observation,” Star Lad says.Â
Mr. Subterranean blinks owlishly at him. “About what? The crime percentages? The patrols? If it’s not about either of those things, I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to wait until the end of the presentation. As you can see from the pages in front of you, we have a very full schedule today. I don’t want to waste anyone’s time.”
You look down at the fabricated graph in front of you so he can’t see your face. Waste anyone’s time? That’s all he does.Â
That’s why you’re going rogue.
You barely feel any remorse about it anymore, which is why you know tonight is the night you run away from all this. You’re all set up to siphon the entirety of Mr. Subterannean’s accounts into yours. You imagine that getting started as a vigilante will be pretty expensive. It’s only right that Mr. Subterranean, the reason for your sudden career change, pays for it.
Your instincts tell you that you’re being watched. When you look up, you meet Star Lad’s grey eyes. To your horror, he winks once before turning his attention back to Mr. Subterranean.
Oh, you think faintly, he definitely knows.
“I’ll be brief,” Star Lad says, eyes sliding from you to Angel at your side and then around to Flower Power. Could he have been looking around the table for reactions? You doubt it.
Mr. Subterranean inclines his head.
“When I first joined the team,” Star Lad says, “I was impressed. I’ll admit to some hero worship! To fight alongside Angel and Flower Power and Mr. Subterranean!” He starts to say something else and then quickly adds your name to list. “And the Shark, of course.”
Of course. Nobody finds your powers particularly impressive. Yes, you’ve got super strength and night vision and the ability to breathe underwater, yes, you’re able to grow fins and swim so fast, but nobody really remembers that when you’re stationed five hundred miles away from the ocean. Plus your insistence on being the Shark rather than Shark Person or whatever it was the Hero Force really wanted you to switch to basically means you’re persona non grata at HQ. About once a month, a Hero Force agent calls to beg you to change your name. You’ve never heard from the same agent twice.
“Yes, we remember your introduction,” Mr. Subterranean says. He’s visibly annoyed now, the wood table under his hands turning moist from his subterranean powers. “Moving on— “
“Then I was impressed by a meeting like this.” Star Lad beams at Mr. Subterranean as if he didn’t hear the leader speak. “Did you know no other team lead takes the time to collect data like this? To analyze their every action from fights to patrols? Other teams rely heavily on Hero Force analysts for that information. You’ve saved the Hero Force a pretty penny by insisting on doing the analyses yourself.”
“Well,” Mr. Subterranean say. He clears his throat and shuffles his papers. You bet there’d be a blush on his cheeks if you could see under his scuba-like mask. “It’s nice of you to notice. I spend a lot of time on these.”
“In fact,” Star Lad says, leaning forward, “you’ve saved Hero Force so much time and money, people can’t believe it! I mean, literally—“ his smile drops “—can’t believe it.”
Angel stops playing her mobile game, slowly lowering her phone to the table. Flower Power frowns and takes a closer look at her meeting papers.
Oh shit, you think. You knew Star Lad was here to bust someone. You just didn’t think it’d be the boss.
Mr. Subterranean either doesn’t get the insinuation or is a better actor than you thought. He nods. “Yes, yes, I’ve heard the same from the head of the Hero Force himself. But I don’t do it for praise. I do it because it’s the right thing to do.”
“Is that why you’ve refused to be audited?” Star Lad asks. He’s definitely not smiling now. In fact he looks very different from the nerdy newbie who got so excited to join the team. He looks like a Hero. “And why you cancelled your annual review?”
“A review would distract us from important work,” Mr. Subterranean says. He squares his shoulders, trying to look bigger, and waves as if to knock Star Lad’s question out of the air like a particularly annoying fly. “I send very clear records every month to Hero Force. It’d be a waste for an agent to do all that work again so I deemed an audit unnecessary.” He flips a page in his packet. “Now, as I was saying, while we’ve enjoyed immense progress in district 14, ward 8 needs—“
Star Lad half laughs, interrupting Mr. Subterranean. He looks around the table with his hands splayed in front of him. “You guys got it, right? I didn’t think I was being that delicate.”
“No, I got it,” Angel says. She looks like she’s going to throw up. Even her halo looks a little green as her light-based powers respond to her emotions. She shakes her head as if to clear it. “Boss, you refused an audit? That’s not how Hero Force audits work!”
“I don’t think that’s how any audits work,” Star Lad says generously. He flips his hands over in a sort of shrug motion. “It’s pretty common knowledge that you can’t just cancel an audit.”
Mr. Subterranean tries to meet each of your team’s eyes in turn to convey his honesty. When he meets yours, he grimaces. You can feel how your pupils have completely overtaken your irises as you watch him. He tries, “It wasn’t necessary—“
“I don’t have anything to do with this,” Flower Power tells Star Lad. She’s not like you and Angel, both heroes in your first year. She’s older, nearly 65 in an industry that kills people before they’re 30, and you know she only accepted this position as a form of semi-retirement. Any wrongdoing endangers her pension. “I swear.”
“You’ve all heard my analyses of the city,” Mr. Subterranean says. The wetness from his palms is spreading across the table like fungus. He casually leans forward to brace his forearms on the table, hiding the stains. “I’m sorry that I didn’t understand what an audit is, but the correct information has always made its way to—“
“Mr. Subterranean,” Star Lad interrupts, “did you really think the Hero Force wouldn’t be able to recognize a fraudulent report?”
Mr. Subterranean looks at him. Opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again. “They’re not—“
“Your city doesn’t have a district 14,” Star Lad says. He taps the report. “Your city isn’t big enough to have multiple districts. And crime is not down. It’s up, actually. It’s very, very up.”
Mr. Subterranean stutters. “I guarantee that that is not the case. We have fewer super-powered villains here than there have been in a decade!”
“That’s not true,” Star Lad says. He turns to Angel. “Let’s ask your team. How many villains, on average, do you think a town this size should have?”
Angel’s clear green eyes dart to you and then away. “Um…four?” Whatever she reads on Star Lad’s face makes her flinch. “Six?”
You are very still. You and Angel are both new. Neither of you know the answer to Star Lad’s question, but you should. Flower Power and Mr. Subterranean should have told you. You’re getting the sense of blood in the water. Thankfully, it’s not your blood. When Star Lad looks at you, you have your answer ready. “We currently have five active, regular villains in town.”
“Mr. Subterranean, you reported two.” Star Lad flips his hand and a red file appears in front of him out of thin air. Emblazoned across it is the word CONFIDENTIAL. “I was sent here to verify your, frankly, ridiculous claims. I was expecting some fudging of the numbers or even a few battle exaggerations to make your mediocre leadership look more impressive than it is.”
You have to resist the urge to bite your cheek in an effort to keep a straight face. You’re transformed right now and even you aren’t invulnerable to the razor-sharp shark teeth.
“He’s been a competent leader,” Flower Power says. When Angel and you make sounds of disbelief, her mouth presses into a thin line. “Trust me, I’ve seen worse. I would have reported anything too extreme to the Hero Force.”
“Which is why, as of today, you are retired, Flower Power,” Star Lad says without taking his eyes off Mr. Subterranean. The room is getting suspiciously moist as your team leader’s composure cracks. “You’re excused.”
“What?” Flower Power shoots to her feet. “You can’t fire me because of a difference in opinion—“
“You are being retired,” Star Lad says quietly but firmly. He meets Flower Power’s eyes evenly. “Out of respect for your long career with the Hero Force, I am not going to go into the nuances of that decision in front of your team. If you would like access to the report that led to that decision, you are welcome to request it from the nearest Hero Force Main Chapter.”
“I will,” Flower Power says, chin raised. Whether she senses the losing battle as well as you or not, you don’t know. She turns on her heel and stalks from the room leaving the scent of roses in her wake.
You whistle under your breath.
“Where was I?” Star Lad takes the file out of the air and flips through it. “Right. I expected a lot of things when I began my investigation. I did not expect you to be—“
“So you’re a spy,” Mr. Subterranean says. He stands, bracing both hands on the table. “I should have known you weren’t one of us. From the moment you arrived—“
“I am an auditor,” Star Lad interrupts loudly. “Which I have made abundantly clear at this point, yes?”
“Yep,” Angel says. She shrinks back when Star Lad grins at her and Mr. Subterranean glares. You lean around her so you can meet Mr. Subterranean’s eyes. He glares at you for of all a second and then his eyes dart away.
Ha.Â
“You didn’t announce yourself,” Mr. Subterranean says. The fungus - part of his power - is swirling across the table now, decaying the wood. On concrete, it makes the footing slippery. Good for stopping villains. In this room, it reeks. “You came onto my team with false pretenses. I’ll be filing a complaint with Hero Force.”
Star Lad is not impressed. He takes off his glasses with one hand and then folds them deliberately, setting them on the table in front of him. He’s still smiling. “You are, of course, welcome to do that, Mr. Subterranean. You will have ample time while awaiting your trial.”
Mr. Subterranean freezes. His suit - a pair of grey coveralls, like a miner - starts looking…moist around the collar. “Trial?”
Star Lad nods. “You’re under arrest,” he says. “If you’d quit interrupting me, I can finish reading your charges.”
Star Lad doesn’t sound like Star Lad anymore. Star Lad is the goofy newcomer who asks stupid questions and is always underfoot. Star Lad doesn’t know what to do with his big, gangly body and whose costume is always ill-fitting. Star Lad can’t sit as still as a predator, his grey eyes fixed to Mr. Subterranean as if considering whether or not he can swallow the other man whole. His voice isn’t dark with menace and his aura isn’t quite so furious.
Mr. Subterranean takes a half-step back and then stops himself. He swallows, hard. “I don’t have any charges,” Mr. Subterranean says with false bravado. “But you will when I report you for threatening a team leader.”
“Okay,” Star Lad says and stands up.
You and Angel lean back. Mr. Subterranean is braced over the head of the table, trying to look as big as possible, but Star Lad fills up the room when he stands. He’s shorter than Mr. Subterranean but broader and a lot more confident. Both you and Angel are at the opposite end of the room, but it feels way too close. Angel nudges your foot with hers. When she gets your attention, she deliberately looks at your hands, shakes her head, and then looks away.
Your nails - as sharp as shark’s teeth - are piercing the softening wood of the table. Carefully you pry them out. You stare at the grooves, your heart rate slowing and slowing as your fight or flight instincts war.
“You are under arrest,” Star Lad says, each word like a bit. “For falsifying mission reports, misleading critical Hero Force personnel and endangering rookie—“
Mr. Subterranean sneezes. It sounds like a kitten’s sneeze. He sneezes again and there are visible particles in it. After a moment, the droplets from the sneeze dissipate into the humid air and Mr. Subterranean wipes his nose.
You and Angel lean back further from him. Angel covers her nose with her long sleeve. Your costume is sleeveless so you don’t have that luxury.
Star Lad isn’t so squeamish. “Bless you.” He continues, “You are under suspicion of aiding and abetting various villainous elements in this city to further your public image as—“
Mr. Subterranean sneezes again.
You are very curious about that suspicion, but you don’t get to hear the rest of it. Star Lad blinks once, twice, three times. He presses a hand to his head.
“You are— you are under suspicion—“ He sinks back down into his seat. “U-under—“ He presses his other hand to his temple so he’s cradling his head. “Wh-what is happening to me?”
At your side, Angel is slumping down in her seat. Her breath hitches before smoothing into deep and even repetitions. Like sleep. But when you look at her face, she’s not sleeping. Her light-based powers undulate with sick fear, casting the room in shades of green and grey. She’s staring wide-eyed and horrified right at Mr. Subterranean.
Mr. Subterranean is smiling.
You’ve always found his smile unpleasant, though you’ve never been sure why. His teeth are a little crooked, sure, but so are yours (having four sets at all times will do that). His lips are thin but not nonexistent and his smiles always reach his eyes. That actually might be the problem.
There’s a feverish light in Mr. Subterranean’s eyes as he stands fully upright. He looms over Star Lad. The fungus creeps from the table and curls across the floor until even the walls are mildewing. “Think you’re clever do you?”
Oh my god, you think, my boss is a villain. You take care to stay slumped in your seat. There was something in Mr. Subterranean’s sneeze. Some sort of fungus that’s caused Star Lad and Angel to lose strength. You flex your fingers under the table, mouth dry as you wait for a similar effect to hit you.
“One thing I learned from Hero Force; don’t tell anyone everything,” Mr. Subterranean says. He drags a finger across the back of Star Lad’s chair and it creaks as rot eats away the varnish. “It’s why we have civilian identities, isn’t it? So that we’re protected. Safe. Able to do our jobs. I left out a few of my power’s affects when I filled out my Hero Force application.” His smile sharpens. “So that I can do my job.”
Star Lad is doing a wonderful job of not panicking. A muscle in his jaw flexes as he fights Mr. Subterranean’s fungus. He shifts in his seat, wiggling so that he can lean his head against the least rotten part of the chair back. “Lying on a Hero Force application,” he says through gritted teeth, “is a crime.”
“Who are you to decide that?” Mr. Subterranean says. He stalks around the table in agitation, eyes barely landing on you and Angel before he’s fixed right back on Star Lad. “I keep this city safe. I do. The crime percentages are wrong, so what? The number of villains is wrong, so what? I’m here. I lead my team. We fight and we win. So what’s the problem?”
“I am an auditor,” Star Lad says. He pants and then squeezes his eyes shut as if in pain. You see a tremor roll through him. “Y-you can’t do what you want.”
“But I can,” Mr. Subterranean says. He spreads his arms to show that the suit underneath his arms is very damp indeed. Drips of spore-laden moisture drip onto the ground. “I file my reports. I do my patrols. You said it yourself - you had no idea the lengths to which I’ve gone until you saw my presentation! When Hero Force asks me where you went, I just have to say you lead my team on a training exercise and none of you came back.”
“S-Sir,” Angel says. She’s not doing as well as Star Lad. Her breathing is becoming more and more labored. “W-why?”
Mr. Subterranean clicks his tongue. “Sorry, rookie. Bad luck, I guess.”Â
Angel whimpers.
Star Lad’s groans, back arching as he fights with all his might. His power flickers like falling stars all around him, but it doesn’t do anything. Wherever it flashes, it illuminates Mr. Subterranean’s particulates and whatever spore that has incapacitated the auditor.
A spore that, apparently, has no effect on you.
Mr. Subterranean steps towards Angel. His eyes flash as he stretches a hand out toward her, an ominous black fungus rising through the skin of his palm. “I’m sorry, but I can and will do more good for this city than you ever will—“
Angel’s light slips into a despairing blue.
You lunge over the table.
Maybe it would’ve been more hero-like to match Mr. Subterranean monologue for monologue. Maybe you should’ve warned him before you threw all 200 pounds of on top of him, teeth first. Maybe you should’ve done a lot of things, but you didn’t and by the time you think of any of it, Mr. Subterranean’s head hits the opposite wall with a sickening smack!
“S-shark?” He stutters. His hands paw at your wrist where you’re holding his neck.
“The Shark,” you hiss through your growing teeth. Little drops of blood well up under the points of your nails where you’re using just a little too much strength. “Training accident? That’s the best you can come up with?”
Mr. Subterranean sneezes in your face. It’s disgusting and gross, but it doesn’t do anything.
“Sharks,” you tell him, “are immune to poison.”
“No, they aren’t,” he gasps.
You shake him like a rag doll. “If I say they are, they are.” You glance over your shoulder. “Yo, auditor. Am I allowed to arrest my team leader? I don’t think I’m a full Hero yet.”
Star Lad is slumped over in his chair. It takes him two tries to speak. “I—I deputize you to do so.”
“Great,” you say. You manhandle your team leader. He makes all sorts of interesting sounds when he tries to fight only to come up against your super strength. Somehow heroes always forget about your super strength. “I knew you were sketchy. This brings me incredible pleasure, sir.”
“Fuck you,” Mr. Subterranean spits.
There are a pair of power-suppression cuffs hanging from Mr. Subterranean’s utility belt. You grab them and click them on both of his wrists. They activate, flaring neon blue and Mr. Subterranean screams. As a physical power type, suppressing his powers is painful. You watch with interest as the mildew on the walls fades as he loses consciousness.
“Does this mean the mold lives inside him?” You let Mr. Subterranean fall to the ground. “Or is it a fungus?”
Star Lad coughs, sucking in a deep breath for the first time since he collapsed. He rubs at his throat. “How would I know that? He lied on his Hero Force Application form.”
The light in the room changes again to soemthing soft and pink as Angel calms down. She wraps her arms around herself. “Oh my god, are we his accomplices? I swear, I didn’t know anything about—“
“As rookies, neither of you bear any responsibility in Mr. Subterranean’s actions,” Star Lad says. He stands gingerly, testing his legs. “Unless either of you helped him hide villains from visiting heroes in order to defeat them himself at a later date?”
“What the fuck,” you say.
Angel presses a hand to her mouth. “Wait, I thought he had a second apartment for a mistress, not villains!”
“Could’ve been both,” you say. You watch Star Lad bring his mysterious sorcerer-like power to his hand and then dismiss it. “So what happens now?”
“I take Mr. Subterranean in,” Star Lad says promptly. He rolls his shoulders. “Both of you go home and wait for Hero Force to contact you. I assume you’ll be reassigned.” He eyes you. “You’ll probably go to San Francisco. Why didn’t you tell anyone you’re a shark transformer?”
You throw your hands up in the air. “I call myself the Shark!”
“Everyone in HQ thinks you’re being dramatic when you call yourself that,” Star Lad says. “You wrote superstrength and amazing teeth on your Hero Force Application.”
You bare all of your amazing shark teeth at him. “Which is true.”
He stares at you. “…right.” He sets about collecting Mr. Subterranean. His powers wrap around the other man’s arms and legs, lifting him into the air like a dead cow. “You both have options. Luckily we sorted those whole thing before either of you went rogue.”
“Whaaaat,” Angel says. Her halo shifts to a panicked orange color. “That’s craaaazy, I would never go rogue.”
“Yeah,” you say, bracing your hands on your hips. “What she said. Obviously.”
Star Lad shakes his head. “Right. Well, keep your noses clean. We’ll be in touch.”
He leaves the room, dragging Mr. Subterranean behind him. Both of you breathe a sigh of relief when the door closes.
“You were going to ditch too?” Angel asks.
“Big time,” you say. You fish your phone out of your pocket and show her the program you were going to use to drain Mr. Subterranean’s accounts. “I was going to rob our illustrious team leader first though.”
Angel pulls a pair of spark plugs out of her back pocket. “These are from his car.”
“So he couldn’t chase you?” You ask, impressed.
Angel looks at you like you’re crazy and pockets the spark plugs. “I can fly. He couldn’t chase me. I just wanted to ruin his day.”
You laugh. You didn’t know Angel was so funny. You sling an arm around her shoulders. “Let’s go get a drink, Angel. We can write a letter to Star Lad asking to be reassigned together.”
Angel wrinkles her nose but allows herself to be led from the room. “Star Lad. What a stupid name.”
You’re delighted. “Right?!”
You go to get drinks.
----------------------.
 thanks for reading! A bit of a long one but I had so much fun writing it!
If you’d like to see stories like this a week early, please consider supporting me on Patreon (X)! It’s a “pay what you can” system that starts as low as $1 per month. I post every Friday and sometimes post Patreon Exclusive stories there!
You can also follow me on TikTok (X) which is the funniest sentence I’ve ever typed in my entire life!
Fans: It's insane how Guillermo didn't AVENGE Marwa and KILL Nandor on the spot, he should be SO ANGRY
Guillermo, who invited his only human friend to a vampire orgy, lured innocent people to the house to be killed or locked in the basement, chopped up dead bodies for over 10 years, watched the vampires hypnotize a guy to death and kill a local celebrity right in front of him, and never actually saved a single victim from his vampires ever:
that fake renovation show was SO spot-on it bordered on eerie. the tone and pace of the patter. the voice overs. the graphics. the slow-mo shots in the title theme. the way nadja's line delivery of "bad news" changed after commercial break. stunning work made with love and hate
the fact that guillermo viewed him being gay as a bigger secret to tell his family than him working for vampires with the goal of becoming one…thats so real
Prompt: You’ve been a hero for half your life. You’ve fought villains so powerful that they’re called monsters. You’ve foiled bank robberies, saved babies, and stopped the city from exploding into flames. Being a hero is all you know and yet…this is it. The last straw.
The pizza box is empty, a greasy circle the ghost of what was supposed to be your dinner. You can hear your team laughing in the other room, deciding on what to watch in the last few hours of their shift. Apparently they finished patrolling a lot earlier than you. You stare at the crumpled napkins, the dirty plates, the half-full glasses of cola. Are you expected to clean this up?
You ache. Twenty-six and your knees won’t ever be the same. They radiate pain up to your hips. The fresh bruises on your back throb in time with your heart and the bandage half-heartedly taped to your forehead feels suspiciously damp. One of your shoulders clicks when you raise your arms too high and nearly half your teeth are fake.
“Misty’s back!”Â
You turn to see your team leader grinning at you from the doorway, half-eaten pizza in hand. Flame-Man is out of uniform except for his mask. The leather flames lick up the sides of his face and highlight his perfectly coiffed hair. The sweats he’s wearing aren’t fireproof which means he’s not combat ready. When he picked you up over a decade ago, he emphasized the importance of always being combat ready.
“Looks like you ran into trouble,” Flame-Man says. He scratches his side. “Was it the warehouses? Is it the mob, like we thought?”
We. You’re the one who ran the recon on the abandoned warehouses just outside of town. You’re the one who wrote the report for that discovery and you’re the one who followed through on the plan to stop the human traffickers. “Yes.”
The Chosen One just gaslighting the people training them into thinking they’re the chosen one for different prophecies.
“You had a vision six years ago,” the wise man said. “The day the Castle fell.”
“I did have a vision then,” the Chosen One said. “There was a duck. A lake. No, it wasn’t a duck. It was a swan. A woman trapped as a swan. I need to save her!”
The group glanced at each other uneasily.
“Maybe,” the woman meant to teach them magic, “you had a-another vision? About a Demon King rising?”
“That’s crazy,” the Chosen One said even though they definitely had. “That’d be messed up if I saw that.”
“Maybe the swan was a metaphor,” the knight suggested to the other two. “Can’t visions be metaphoric?”
“You’re thinking of oracles,” the Chosen One bullshitted. “No, no, I’ve never had an oracle. I did have another vision.”
The trio leaned forward eagerly. “yes?”
“It was dark,” the Chosen One whispered. They closed their eyes. “So dark. I was in a forest. I walked and walked until I came into a clearing. In the middle of the clearing was a stone. A sword was embedded in the stone.”
“Uh,” the wise man said. He pulled out a scroll and studied it. “There’s nothing here about a sword—“
The chosen one gasped, eyes flying open. “I know now what I’ve been chosen to do! I am to find the stone, pull the sword from it, and become King!”
“We have a king,” the knight said, nonplussed. “You’ve met him.”
“See, you have one now,” the Chosen One said ominously. “That’s what the sword is for.”
The knight and the mage looked to the wise man in a panic.
"In my defense," Zephyr said, "I thought nobody would care."
It wasn't even a lie. In their first year as a hero, they'd been involved in a total of six missions, two of which they were fairly sure that they'd only been included because their callsign had been mistaken for the hero Zervent, who wasn't a big name hero by any means, but was definitely more established than Zephyr.
The team still needed Zephyr for the daily patrols, though. Their name was never taken off of that list, not even after doing ten-hour shifts for eight days straight, running lines through their region for hours and hours until their vision blurred. When Zephyr had finally brought it up to the shift manager, pointing out how no one else had even taken a patrol shift in over three months, all they'd had to say was; "Really? I'll check that out." Nothing had changed.
Given that, and the complete lack of resources that Zephyr had been granted—along with a mentor that never paid them any attention, training sessions that weren't even logged by the gym staff anymore, and a paycheck that only arrived if they personally hunted down the accounts manager every month—meant that Zephyr didn't think it would be much of a surprise that they wanted to quit, or that anyone would even notice.
Which was why, frankly, they hadn't given it much thought when Howl had started to follow them around everywhere.Â
He was an even newer hero than them, still all shiny and full of pride. Of course, his pride was only compounded when he started being put on the roster immediately after he joined, going out on missions several times a week, sometimes even more. That's what happened to a hero with powers like that—Zephyr's superspeed was damn useful, and they'd argue against anyone who tried to say otherwise, but nothing could beat the classic strength-flight-laser eyes combo. It was no wonder that Howl had been thrown up to the major leagues immediately after graduating.
Not like Zephyr, who'd had to claw their way up through local teams for over a decade just to make it this far.
And now they were going to throw it all away.
"Care?!" Howl cried indignantly. He was bristling from where he stood at the end of the hall, eyes flashing dangerously, but Zephyr couldn't bring themself to fear him. This was just a kid. His voice still cracked, for god's sake. "You're planning to betray everything we stand for as heroes, of course we care!"
"We?" Zephyr snorted, turning their back to him. They continued tossing the records into their bag, uncaring if the folders bent. "Kid, you're the only one here."
"I left the others a message before I confronted you!" he said indignantly. "I'm sure they're on their way!"
"I doubt they even remembered who you were referring to," Zephyr mumbled, before they sighed, zipping up the duffle bag and hefting it up onto their shoulders.Â
They turned to face Howl again, tapping the heel of their sneaker against the ground. He was tense, shifting nervously. That kind of posture would do him no favors—were the trainers actually helping him at all? Or did they just assume that because he had the power to burst through the side of a building unharmed that nothing could hurt him, not even in the long-term?
Maybe he was just nervous. Maybe this had nothing to do with the team at all, and Zephyr was just looking for something to affirm the beliefs that they already held. But it was enough to steel their resolve.
"It's not a betrayal to look out for yourself," Zephyr said firmly. "And refusing to let people take advantage of you doesn't make you a villain. I hope you learn that sooner rather than later, kid."
"And those documents?" Howl said, raising his fists—did he seriously think that Zephyr was going to fight their way out? Please. "What are you planning to do with all that?"
"Oh, this?" they said, patting the bag filled with all the paper records of the team's roster information and resource allocation. "This is just for me."
And they kicked up a whirlwind as they sped away, out of the building and over state lines before Howl even had a chance to blink.
Since they'd lost out on their paycheck this week, it only made sense to grab something that would give them a bit of pocket money, right? There were a lot of people in this world that would pay top-dollar for information like this, and Zephyr figured it was only fair—it was about the only useful thing this team had ever done for them.
<•>
thanks so much for the prompt @caffeinewitchcraft !! can't wait to see your version later! and thank you all for reading <3
theartofmadeline
ellievsbear
gummygunk
origamiaround
kaledo-art
vaporwave
