You're an attractive, unhinged, villian; you just seduced a billionare, killed them, and ran off with their money. You're dancing around your room waiting for the cops to show up. When they do, you're standing on the ledge of your 6th story window. Before killing them all with toxic gas you deliver a one liner and jump through the glass backwards, saluting. What's your one liner.
Fallen Hero: Rebirth fanfiction! set after the end, before the in-progress sequel
“Ortega, what is it? I’m kind of in the middle of something right now.” You hiss into your suit’s headset as you scramble under the barricade.
“Are you okay there?”
“I’m fine. It’s fine. Everything’s fine here. We’re fine. It’s fine.” The ground rattles as a screeching metal beam crashes through the floor behind you. The lights flicker for a second then go out. In the distance you hear people scream and shout. There. That should buy you some time.
“Woah– hey, uh, Ari, what was that noise?”
“Things are a little… hectic at work right now. This really isn’t the best time.” You run through your escape path in your head as you make sure the bag clipped to your waist belt is secured.
“I thought you said you worked at a repair shop.”
“Look Ortega, some things are more–“ There’s another crashing of metal through drywall behind you. Load bearing drywall? Really? Shoddy construction job. “–more resistant to fixing than others. You know how it is.” You put your best upbeat smile into your voice, willing Ortega to accept it at face value.
That gets a laugh out of her. “Yeah, don’t I know it.”
You cut her off before she can press you again. “Look, I really gotta go.”
“Uh-huh. Are we still on to meet at the park this afternoon?” You’re going to have to really work on an explanation to explain this away later..
“Y-yeah, sure, 3 o’clock? Great-see-you-then-bye.” You end the call, count to ten, and then make a run for it.
———
“So, this isn’t what I had planned on talking about; but you’ll never guess what happened this morning.” Ortega looks at you, leaning in, an edge to her smile.
You look back over the rim of your milkshake, straw in your mouth. “Mm?”
“You remember Pennybags?”
You drum the side of the glass with your fingers, making a show of thinking back. “The magnetic guy?”
Ortega nods. “Yeah. Big bank robber, stole a bunch of things from the old Rangers HQ too, remember?”
You nod, grimacing. “Yeah, that was a mess.” Of course you remember. One of the few times you had actually seen Julia really upset.
“Well, did you see the news today?” Ortega leans in further.
You lean back, shaking your head. “I was a little busy this morning, remember?” Stupid, you berate yourself. Don’t call attention to it.
Ortega tilts her head, side-eyeing you. “Yeah, I still need to ask you about that.” She waves it off with a hand. “Anyway, there was this big complex that collapsed up in the mountains in Hidden Springs.”
You eyebrows shoot up, practiced concern in your voice. “Oh geeze, an earthquake? Was anyone hurt?”
Ortega shakes her head, “That’s the weird part, no quake and most of the service staff were just hanging around outside when Steel and I got there. I tried talking to them, apparently everyone just felt… compelled to go talk a walk at the same time.”
You frown, why had they all gone back? “That’s… kind of spooky,” you say aloud.
Ortega gestures with a fry as she speaks, “You think that’s spooky, turns out, this is where Pennybags has been held up the past nine years, can you imagine? Stole millions of dollars and then vanishes so he can spend a decade playing stockbroker out in the sticks.”
You take another sip of your milkshake before saying anything, “So… you found Pennybags then?”
“Not yet, but he might be still be in there, Ground sonar shows an intact safe-room under the rubble. They’re still digging out the mess to get to it.” You take another sip of your milkshake to hide the possible smile. It had taken a lot of effort to leave only the single path.
But still, would it really be so bad if Pennybags… didn’t make it? Your smile wilts and you shift your arms under your poncho, always uncomfortably warm in the California heat. “Shouldn’t you be up there then?”
Now it’s Ortega’s turn to make a face, “Steel’s overseeing the effort.”
“Doesn’t trust you?” You ask, innocently.
Ortega’s response surprises you however, how her shoulders slump a little. “Maybe the right call in this case.” After a few more fries, she picks back up, “You’ll never guess how we know it’s Pennybags down there though.”
“Voice of god? Welcome sign? Villains Weekly magazine subscription?”
“Good guesses, but no.” Ortega’s smirk melts back into a frown. “Right outside what would have been the entrance someone left a folder… and an action figure.”
“An… action figure.” You repeat, skeptically.
“The signed Marshall Hood figure Pennybags stole actually. And the folder was full of all the photographs he’d taken from us too.”
“Oh.” You say. You hadn’t expected her to actually talk about this.
“I… don’t really have a lot left of him. I thought I’d lost these for good.”
“I remember.” You remember seeing the front door of its hinges, running through wrecked room after room, finding an alarmingly sobbing Ortega. The first time you willingly hugged someone.
“There’s maybe five people who know about that figure, Ari, and two of them are dead now.” Ortega’s voice is quiet, her hand on the table balled into a fist.
“What are you saying?” You whisper back, mirroring her tension with your own.
“I don’t think that building collapsed on its own. No, I think that new villain did this.” Ortega looks at you, questioning. “I just can’t figure out why.”
“Do…” You fish for an idea, “do you think they’re trying to send you a message?”
Ortega looks you straight in the face, half-eaten hamburger now completely forgotten. You wish she wouldn’t. “A message? For what?”
You look back, willing yourself not to look away, not to look guilty. “I don’t know… I mean, it’s no secret you and Hood were close, is it?”
The look on Ortega’s face only intensifies. “You think maybe it was a threat?”
Your face blanches, and shake your head. This is not going how you thought it would. “I’m not in this game anymore, remember?” You shrug your shoulders theatrically, “for all I know it could be a love letter.”
The absurdity of it gets a laugh out of Ortega and you both relax a little. “Mierda,” she shakes her head. “That’s a hell of a way to send a letter.”
i started this fic over a month ago and only recent finally figured out how to actually write it dang blast
fallen hero: rebirth, no spoilers, ~1.9k words
“Watch out, that’s Puppetmaster!”
A spike of adrenaline courses through you and you can’t help but cackle as you dive feet first through a a stack of boxes, sending crates of delicate electronic equipment everywhere. “Out of the way losers! I’ve got a a timetable to meet!” You can hear alarms sound around you as the factory goes into full alert, the clanging of barring gates. You grin under the mirror sheen of your helmet. That suits you fine, keep the small fry penned up and out of the way? You’re too kind.
The wall in front of you collapses into dust and you tear through the office, grabbing at papers at random. What you take doesn’t actually matter, compromising their records is the goal here. Still you make sure to capture as much as you can on your in-suit camera so you can review everything later. You never know what kind of dirt you’ll find.
Damage done, you refer to your map, dissolve another wall and follow your thread out, back to the main entrance. As expected by this point, its Lady Argent, hands at her sides poised to rush you, a half-circle of rent-a-cop security goons behind her to block you in. “A factory, Puppetmaster? This a step down for you.” She hunches down, fingers lengthening into sharpened claws.
Your face twitches under your helmet. “Don’t read the papers, Argent? It’s Banshee.” You hiss. Your voice, filtered through your helmet has a hollow reverberating sound, like a bell. You take a quick count of Lady Argent’s back-up, who’s most pliable to tying up the rest. None of the officers seem to trust Argent. Good. That makes this easier.
The metallic woman looks unimpressed. “Can’t say I care what you call yourself.”
That does it.
One of the rent-a-cop’s guns goes off ‘prematurely’, firing wide to your left, the rest follow in blind panic as you dive to the side. Argent is too focused on you, but with the Rat-King’s help you’re able to pull the rest of the goof troop into your song, pulling their attention in random directions. One of the shots dings Argent in her shoulder, bouncing off to through ground and to her credit she doesn’t look for the culprit, making straight for you.
You run your hand along the ground as you move, leaving a split in the asphalt as the Nanovores chew through material. Lady Argent tries to cut you off so you encourage two of the goons to stumble into her way as you continue your circle around them. You can’t afford to move slow enough for a deep groove, but if this works as planned, all you need is to prime the cut.
If it works.
Argent huffs, shoving one of the men the side, only for the another to conveniently take position between the two of you. “Get out of the way!” It doesn’t slow her down long, but it’s enough for you to finish the circle. Under your helmet you grin, heart pounding.
All that’s left is the magic word. You give the Rat-King the command to pull the strings and yank everyone back in.
You dash forward and slide down, just under the swipe of her claws. She turns to stab down at you as you come to halt. You roll out of the way and kick her arm aside on your way back up.
You check to make sure everyone’s inside the circle you’ve carved through the asphalt. “Look alive boys,” is all the warning you give before an explosion rocks the ground under everyone’s feet. You leap back as the asphalt caves in under their feet. The coast is clear enough for the moment that you can risk taking a quick check of everyone’s mental state; a lot of fear and alarm, but the headcount is still the same. You think.
Hopefully.
You shake your head. Focus. Don’t get distracted.“Well, that’s not supposed to be there!” You call down to Argent, exaggerating the sarcasm in your voice. You watch Argent and the rest pick themselves up, clear rubble off their buddies. You have to steel your heart against it, remember who they are, what they represent. You admit though, Argent makes it easier, she’s staring up at you, a single silver middle finger outstretched.
You try not to laugh. Focus. Remember the goal. Don’t get distracted. “Maybe instead of chasing ghosts you should take a look around down there, hrm? Might be surprised what yo-“ You cut yourself off, the Rat-King pulling your attention away just in time to sidestep Herald's dive.
That’s a surprise, is Herald's back in action already? Weren’t they keeping him on the press circuit while his leg healed? Well, that’s his mistake to make, you suppose. You strike at his back as he goes past and send flyboy spinning head over heels down into the hole. Is he strong enough to carry Argent out? You don’t intend to stick around and see, it’s time to make yourself scarce.
You don’t need to hear the stomping of boots in the hallway to know your time is almost up. You seal the envelope in your hands and push it across the desk to the man in the three piece suit cowering before you. “Looks like the party has arrived. Do consider what we’ve talked about, won’t you dear?” He hesitates so you reach into his mind and give him a push before stepping away. By the time the riot police have broken down the door the envelope is gone, inside his vest.
You watch the police fill the other end of the room, shields up and guns drawn. The idiots. They’ll kill your hostage if they shoot like this. You don’t see or sense any of the Rangers. That’s just fine with you, if maybe a little strange. The man in charge steps forward, hand on the trigger finger. “Banshee, you’re under arrest. We have you surrounded.” You don’t need to read his mind to know from the look on his face and the way he’s holding his gun that the man is regretting coming in to work today. What does the LDPD think they’re doing? They’re no match for you. Sure, you aren’t immune to bullets, but when has that ever stopped you?
You reach out to his mind and encourage him to lower his gun before he sets off the whole room. “Banshee?” You laugh, the distorters warping it into a shrill, discordant noise, then say innocently, “Don’t know anyone by that name.”
You crouch down, bracing yourself, placing a hand on the floor. You’ll only have a second before the tension of situation wakes them up again. “I’m just a ghost.” There’s a moment where it seems like nothing is going to happen and then the nanovores eat a hole in the floor directly beneath you, dropping you down. You grunt, letting the armor absorb most of the shock, though the landing still plays hell on your knees. You’re going to regret this in the morning.
Above you the room erupts in shouts of alarm and someone fires their gun, setting off another gunshot, then another. You grimace in frustration and reach back up to give them a metaphorical shake of the shoulders. You can’t have them killing your new plant.
You break into a run, following your thread to the nearest elevator shaft and breaking the door open with a mixture of force and nanovores. As you make your escape sliding down the elevator shaft you can’t stop yourself from humming a few bars, the chittering of the Rat-King creates an accompaniment in the back of your head.
Hitting the basement level you barely manage to clear the doors when Lady Argent is on you, all knives and quicksilver. Her claws dig into your arm before you’re able to get her to back off with an uppercut to the head. Argent flexes her jaw and gives you a predatory grin. “I had a feeling I’d find you down here Ghost.”
You study her face, waiting for a sign of any sudden movement. Getting predicted like this is embarrassing but you need to save the over-analysis for when a woman capable of opening you up like a can-opener isn’t staring you down.“Ghost? I– I wasn’t being literal up there.” You’ve got to reassert control of the situation. You make sure to put an edge to your voice, “It’s Méabh, sweetheart.” You just came up with that one on the spot. You kind of like it. “If you’re going to play lap dog, at least remember to fill in the incident report form correctly this time, will you?”
Argent’s grin turns into a scowl. “Ugh. I don’t actually care,” and she moves in.
The subway tunnel shudders, loose bits of concert drizzling down. An abandoned pet project from a self-obsessed billionaire thinking they could revitalize a city located on fault line with an underground rail system. Rich people. It had been a good hideout for a while. Now?
Now you can feel your heart pound in your throat as the two of you exchange blows. When you try to slide past her, Lady Argent is ready for you, raking claws against the side of your armor, trying to find a point of purchase to pry you apart. You grab her wrist and pull her down on top of you. It’s a stupid move, and you pay for it with razor filings running down your sides but because it’s stupid she doesn’t expect it and you’re able to knee her in the gut and kick her away.
You hate fighting Argent in an enclosed spaces like this. It’ll be a game of attrition as to whether you can get away before she can land a clean hit. The two of you are back to circling each other when you bump up against a support pillar.
Maybe….? You mentally check your map.
You’ll need to stall Argent. “Well! We met again, Lady Argent.” As you talk you rest your hand on the concrete pillar beside you, coaxing the nanovores to get to work. “Accosting a private citizen in the sanctity of their own home? People are going to talk.”
Lady Argent narrows her eyes, “Méabh.”
“You remembered this time, I’m touched.”
There’s a shark-toothed grin and the distinct feeling that she’s sizing you up. “You haven’t changed your name yet?”
“Oh, still thinking it over.” You give a theatrical flip of your hand. “I don’t suppose you have a suggestion?”
“My only ‘suggestion’ is bringing you to justice..” She keeps her focus trained on you, ready for the moment you make a move. Part of you is surprised she’s still letting you talk. Is backup on the way? That’s not Argent’s style.
“That’s a good thought about justice.” You rap your armored fingers against the pillar, testing to see if it’s hollowed out yet. “There’s been a distinct lack of it in this city, don’t you think?” …Maybe you should go with your first choice for a villain name? You’d been resisting because it seemed, well, too obvious. But nothing else was feeling right.
“Oh please, is boring me to death with clichés the best you can do?”
“See, it’s that kind of thinking that’s the problem. Lets the real bad guys stay on top.”
Argent finally notices how you’ve kept your hand pressed to the pillar, and growls. “What are you up to?”
“Are you talking about, like, in general or just right now?” You can’t help it, you cackle. “Because I’ve got a list.” You push hard against the concert. The stone breaks like glass and the ceiling sags from the sudden lack of support, tiles crashing down around you. “Right now?” You drop your voice for effect. “Adrestia is cleaning house.”
