“Why would they give me to you?” they asked, head leaned down and eyes fixed on the floor, aiming to calm the trembling of their hands, the shaking of their voice as they thought of more to say, then, giving up.
“As a peace offering, treasure, you in exchange of the city.”
Hero shook their head, denying Villain's words. It didn't make sense, they team would never do such a thing to them.
“I'm speaking truth, Hero” Villain assured, an ungloved hand supping the side of Hero’s face.
Hero could see the blood on Villain’s sleeve, watered down by most probably the washing of their hands before meeting them, a conscious precaution given away by a negligence to detail. They probably would never notice, but Hero’s eyes were quick, their smell was sharp. They could distinguish the hesitance in Villain’s voice in each word they spoke.
“That established, we are to leave this place tomorrow morning. I truly hope I can count on your cooperation.”
Hero met their eyes. The flicking of a lie reflected on their iris.
Warmth blossomed inside their chest, Villain was lying for their sake, they cared. Of course they did, they had to.
Hero nodded.
Their team wished them dead, the gifting of their person to the enemy would signify the greatest risk for their cause, loyalties weavered easily when one felt no affiliation to a senseless ideal. The heroes would have never done it, a shot to the back was far easier, and Leader was too smart to lose that chance.
Villain had killed for their safety at the threat of Hero’s life.
They hid the smile they couldn’t help but utter, perhaps this one love would finally succeed.
_
Masterlist
I'm back from the dead, finally done with my summer science research stay :D
I honestly think this very bad but everytinr I stop writing for a while it's like I have to relearn it from scratch
Part 2 (Civilian) / Part 3 (Villain) / Part 4 (Superhero / Part 5 (Vigilante)
Hero eyed the newcomer when the bell above the door announced their arrival. They only looked for long enough to note their appearance before turning back to their coffee. Their latte wasn't hot anymore, but they brought it to their lips to take a sip regardless. They let their eyes roam around the room, taking in the faces around them.
"Hi, what can I get for you?" The barista's cheery voice filtered in through the noise of other patrons drinking and chatting around them. They'd chosen a table by one of the large floor to ceiling windows. Hero wasn't used to this type of atmosphere. For a place supposedly full of villains, the shop was rather pleasant. Peaceful and calming, like a summer breeze.
Idly, Hero watched the barista turn their back to the customer to make their order. Their gaze flickered over the stranger's face before returning to the worker. They didn't recognize them - not from the files or personal encounters. They weren't a hero, nor a notable villain. A civilian then, perhaps.
There was only one worker today, but they'd been assured that this was normal and that the single staff member was 'perfectly capable' of 'managing affairs' on their own.
Hero's eyes landed on the name tag pinned to the barista's shirt when they turned around again. 'Civilian' certainly didn't look like a fighter, but Hero knew better than anyone that looks were deceiving. They tapped a pen to their notepad. They didn't have much written, hyper aware of the open environment they were in.
"Will that be all?" The worker had a pleasant smile, Hero noted as they took another sip of their lukewarm coffee. The signature customer service smile really did make them seem so unassuming.
When a 'neutral zone' for supers had been set up right in the middle of the city, it had obviously drawn attention. It wasn't official by any means and of course the heroes were skeptical of this announcement. The shop was frequented by both villains and civilians, though it was speculated that any civilians who dared go in were simply villains in disguise. Since its opening and the owner's declaration the shop stood untouched, as if no one had ever dared challenge the ludicrous claim.
And of course there had been those who dared. And yet, no matter how destructive the attacks, the little shop remained standing. Any disputes between patrons with powers were handled with minimal violence, though discourse seemed rare despite the nature of those who frequent it.
After sitting here for over an hour, Hero thought that perhaps that intel wasn't as incorrect as their agency believed. It was hard to get worked up in such a calming environment. The music was light and unobtrusive and the smell of coffee and pastries made it hard not to relax.
Everyone who went in used it for what it was - a coffee shop. An unusual, indestructible one, but a coffee shop nonetheless.
Academic Rival looked hero up and down, gaze like shattered glass cutting into hero. Hero knew if Rival could draw blood with their stare, Hero would be bleeding out on the ground right now.
“It’s a good thing you’re pretty, Hero,” Rival said stepping closer. Hero stepped back, back hitting the wall with a stifled gasp huffed out their nose as they tried to not look intimidated by Rival. “God knows your poor brain can barely scrape by.”
“Still sore about Professor Sagacious’s apprenticeship? Honestly, Rival. I’d say jealousy looks good on you, but I know how much you hate liars.”
Rival flashed a toothy grin. That was all Hero saw before the wind was knocked out of them and they were bent double, looking at the hardwood floor and gasping lungfuls of air. Rival grabbed them by the collar of their shirt and righted Hero against the wall.
When Hero was righted, Rival smirked at them. “Oh I’m sorry, Hero. You okay there?”
Hero narrowed their eyes a fraction, the air reaching their lungs better now that they were standing. They opened their mouth to reply, but Rival pressed their forearm across Hero’s chest pinning them against the wall. When Hero tried to push forward, Rival twisted their body and their elbow dug into Hero’s collarbone painfully.
“Always knew you were more brawn than brain,” Hero said with a breath. Rival flashed their toothy grin that promised pain. It came in the form of a closed fist angling an uppercut to Hero’s nose. Hero’s head slammed against the wall with the force of it and they cried out as warm blood gushed down their nose passed their lips and onto their chin.
“Motherfucker!” Hero hissed. Rival leaned in close and grabbed Hero’s cheeks in one hand, grip pinching and bruising and Hero realised slow, painfully slow that they couldn’t fight back. Their arms pinned useless under Rival’s weight holding them against the wall. Rival leaned in closer, Hero swallowed hard, trying to get their face away from them but they couldn’t go anywhere.
Was Rival about to kiss them? Like this? Hero didn’t want it. Their heart pounded against their chest as Rival stuck out their tongue and licked the blood from Hero’s chin up their lips and stopped at Hero’s upper lip.
Somehow that felt worse than if Rival would have just kissed them. A shudder ran down Hero’s spine when Rival pulled back, their tongue painted with Hero’s blood and they wanted to be sick.
“Red is your colour, Hero. You look so cute when you’re utterly powerless against me,” Rival said releasing Hero’s cheeks and leaning their lips closer to Hero’s ears and they whispered: “but you’d look absolutely stunning under me.”
Something instinctual snapped like a rubber band in Hero and suddenly they were aware of everything in their body. Their hands. Their breath. Their blood drumming in their ears. They world was starting to cave in and get bigger all at once. They had to get out of here.
“Rival. Is there a reason you’re keeping my lab partner against the wall?”
Hero’s wide eyes went to Nemesis who stood at the top of the stairs. Rival looked up too and grinned, but they stepped away from Hero, looking at Hero still they said to Nemesis: “no reason, no. I was just getting to know the new genius in town.”
Nemesis was descending the stairs slowly looking between the two, hands languidly resting in their trouser pockets. Their permanent glare on Rival, and then when they looked at Hero it seemed as if their eye’s softened a fraction.
But Nemesis hated Hero, they would never feel sorry for them.
“Well don’t get caught. For whatever reason, Headmaster Argute is rather fond of the resident idiot.”
“I’m not an idiot,” Hero ground out and Nemesis’s cool, grey eyes shot a deadpan look at Hero.
“You risked your life to save a plebeian from the noose,” Nemesis said, voice measured with every word. That was all they said, however, and Hero frowned at them.
“A life is a life. They were innocent,” Hero argued, and Nemesis cocked an eyebrow as if to say: point proven.
“Doesn’t matter,” Nemesis shrugged, putting a hand on Rival’s shoulder and pushing them forward and away from Hero. “We’re not being taught how to be heroes. Next time you want to rebel against the system, make sure you’re not in our uniform.”
“My family is Plebeian you dick. They’re not all beyond saving. Just because you come from a background of elitist pricks!”
Nemesis’s glare burned this time. Burned Hero no matter what they were. Where Hero’s passion was fire, Nemesis’s logic was ice and freezing Hero to the spot.
“Doesn’t matter now,” Nemesis shrugged. “You’re here. You’re one of us, and you brought the council’s eyes on our school.”
Hero scoffed, and said: “Scared of a fucking council?”
“This is why you’re an idiot,” Nemesis sighed, pinching the bridge of their nose. “If you were smart you’d be afraid of them too. What they can do. Who they have in their pockets. Your act of foolish Heroism puts us all in danger.”
“Good,” Hero spat, wiping at their nose. Hand coming away bloody. “It’s about time people like you were scared. I was born scared. I grew up scared. Dot my I’s and crossing my T’s out of fear. Welcome to the party, pal.”
Nemesis’s expression fixed back into a bored kind of neutrality, “I’d like to decline the invitation, but thanks all the same.” They put a hand on Rival’s shoulder and steered them down the hall.
“Be seeing ya, Hero,” Rival said over their shoulder with a horrible grin.
As they walked Hero heard Nemesis say to Rival: “this is what happens when they let the rabble into education. They get ideas.”
“You ran from Shade?” their boss asks the moment the hero steps into the agency. The hero’s shoulders immediately tense and their posture straightens. They’re about to mutter out a casual greeting when their conversation with Shade echoes in their head.
“Sending you here was a death sentence,” the villain, Shade, says, their voice quiet yet carrying volume against the silence settled over the downtown area.
“Was it?” the hero replies, raising their eyebrows in interest. The villain across from them crosses their arms over their chest. They’re wearing a mask, but the hero can imagine the smug smirk on their face.
“Yes, it was,” Shade continues. The stars glimmer and wink in the night sky. “You’re too valuable to die here. I’ll give you one chance to leave, if you wish.” They exude confidence, and if the hero were any other hero they would immediately drop into a fighting stance.
“I’ll take it, thanks,” the hero says, making sure to speak loud enough so that there is no room for confusion or misinterpretation. They take a few half-steps backwards, waiting for the objection they know is going to come.
“You’re an interesting one,” Shade mutters, throwing the hero for a loop. They had been expecting another taunt, or maybe even a thrown punch- not a whispered admission. The villain’s figure is nearly camouflaged in the dark, but their twisted grin glows and burns its way into the hero’s eyes. The hero swallows hard, watching with thinly-concealed apprehension as they hear Shade’s footsteps echo in the night air. They don’t have the time to get into a fighting stance, and are already regretting letting their guard down when they feel a hand grab their fist. The hero stays frozen, despite the gut feeling to run away. Their fist is unclenched and something that feels like a card is placed in their hand. The gloved hand on theirs gently pushes their hand back closed. “You know where to find me.” The hero doesn’t so much as blink before the villain in front of them completely disappears.
It isn’t until they're in the safety of their dimly-lit apartment that they dare to unclench their fist and look at the card. They squint down at it, the letters blurring together for a moment. The hero’s vision soon clears, and they huff out a laugh at the two words written on the paper, underneath an address and a phone number.
Shade Enterprises.
A pointed cough breaks them out of their thoughts. Their boss is looking at them expectantly, and the hero just barely suppresses an annoyed hiss. “I did run,” the hero eventually answers, lying through their teeth. They’re not sure how else to describe the strange conversation on the rooftop. Their boss stares at them for a moment, before moving to walk towards their office, the invitation to come inside unspoken yet present nonetheless. The hero wonders how they hadn’t noticed their boss’s cowardice sooner. They had been blinded by admiration, bound by the duty to follow their orders. “Unfortunately for you,” the hero mutters to their boss’s retreating back.
“Why would that be unfortunate for me?” their boss eventually replies, after closing the door behind them and siting down in their throne chair. The grandfather clock the executive seems to treasure so much ticks behind them, filling the room with a monotonous rhythm. The hero takes a moment to think about all the times they nervously sat through discussions about their recklessness, their inferiority.
“Don’t play dumb,” the hero laughs, crossing their arms over their chest. Their boss looks confused, but they don’t buy it. “Sending me there was a death sentence.” They copy Shade’s statement. Their boss remains silent at that, a confirmation of the hero's thoughts and the villain’s claims.
“You’ve wanted me dead for years,” the hero smirks, standing up and placing their hands on the desk. Their boss remains seated, the only slip in their mask a twitch of their left eye. “After all, I’ve caused so much trouble for you, haven’t I? Speaking out on the corruption running rampant in this agency? It’s a miracle I’ve made it this long.”
“You’re leaving?” their boss asks, a strange gleam in their eyes. The hero wants to think it’s greed, but they realize that it’s actually desperation. They resist the urge to burst out laughing. That's right. Their boss needs them.
“I am,” the hero replies, trying their best to keep their anger from seeping through into their voice. They shove their hands in their pockets and clench their fists. The office around them suddenly seems much smaller. The hero had always felt like a tiny speck in their boss’s office- surrounded by paraphernalia and trophies. Now, however, they feel stronger. Bigger. The walls shrink as the hero commands the space around them with confidence.
“You need to fill out the paperwork,” their boss says, their voice almost a whine. Their hand fiddles with the silver ring on their finger, their sleeve hitching up to reveal a watch that likely costs more money than the hero has ever seen. Their boss’s dry cleaning hangs on the back of the bookshelf behind them.
“Come on, the paperwork is nothing more than a formality,” the hero scoffs, rolling their eyes. Their patience is fading by the second. “Besides, there’s no way in hell I’m giving you my address and contact information.” They know enough about the nature of the agency to know that the paperwork is nothing but an attempt at tracking their movements. After all, the agency relies on control.
“You have nowhere to go,” their boss smirks, and finally, there’s something. Something in the way their shoulders are pulled taut, their lips twisting cruelly. The hero grins before they can help it.
“That’s what you think,” the hero says. Their boss’s eyes widen at the uncharacteristic argument, and the hero once more finds themselves resisting the urge to chuckle. They don’t laugh, however, and instead shove their hand in their jacket pocket. Their boss watches them with an intense gaze, and the hero isn’t ashamed to admit that they enjoy keeping them on the ropes. For once, they’re not the one in the dark, and it’s liberating. Their fingers wrap around the heavy weight in their pocket, and they pull it out into the light.
Their boss recognizes the business card immediately, of course. After all, they were the ones that assigned them the mission of taking Shade down. Their face turns a rather greenish hue, and the hero makes sure to hold up the card for a few more seconds before slipping it back into their pocket.
“I’ll be taking my leave now,” the hero asserts, shifting their weight on their heels. The sharp edges of the card dig into their skin, a painful yet necessary reminder that they’re anchored in reality.
“You have no value,” their boss hisses, a vein popping from their neck and their knuckles whitening on the desk. The hero watches in amusement. All these years, they hadn’t gotten so much as a single emotional reaction from their boss. They’re a bit satisfied, they have to admit. “You’re nothing.”
“Shade doesn’t seem to think so,” the hero shrugs, unable to resist the urge to name drop. It works wonders, and their ex-boss’s face quickly turns from indignation to anger and fear. It’s not an unwelcome change. The hero muses on this as they turn on their heel and walk out of the building, smiling to themselves and clutching the business card in their pocket.
author’s note: smart hero is such an underrated trope. like, give me intelligent hero. cunning hero. a hero that knows when to quit, a hero that knows what they’re worth and isn't afraid to assert themselves.
