hero/villain

Archive of the Hero/Villain pieces. May or may not be updated in future.

Reputations and Expectations

A Hero/Villain piece. Minor cw for violence.

It is to be noted that this is one of the few remaining H/V pieces. Cursed Prince posts will resume promptly.

The Hero and Villain faced each other, violent intent marring their expressions. 

Both bled freely from the myriad wounds they’d inflicted upon each other: the Villain had a split lip and several loose teeth, but they’d given their own back by blacking both of the Hero’s eyes and breaking their nose for the umpteenth time.

Their fight had been scrappy, violent, not so much to kill as to maim. 

To hurt and scar. 

All The Villain had simply taken the Sidekick prisoner, and the Hero had retaliated by targeting the Minion, taking their torment a step further. 

The Hero had beaten the Minion so soundly that the Villain hadn’t recognized them, finding them only thanks to the tracking necklace they made them wear.

“Since when… did you stop pulling punches?” The Villain panted, wiping blood from their aching mouth. Grim determination contorted their bloody face into a sneer.

“Since you made this personal.” The Hero snarled. They made to lunge, but drew up short, a hand pressed to their undoubtedly broken ribs. 

The Villain exhaled sharply in disbelief.

“You thought I wouldn’t retaliate when you beat my Minion?” 

Thanks to the Hero the Minion had lost an eye, and had required reconstructive surgery. Even now, they was laid up in the Villain’s private medical ward, unconscious and hurting. 

Silence rang through the abandoned lot. The Hero stared at the Villain through slitted eyes, righteous hatred radiating from them like heat from a flame.

“Figures.” The Villain sagged, bracing their hands on their knees, staring at the Hero a gimlet eye. “It’s always a double standard with you galumphing Hero types. It’s okay for you to beat the shit out of people in ‘the name of good,’” – the Villain’s tone dripped with sarcasm – “but as soon as I, the Villain, retaliate in kind it’s wrong?”

“They’re not involved.” The Hero argued. Their breathing was labored, wheezing from between clenched teeth. Satisfaction welled within the Villain: they had finally, finally, managed to hurt the Hero in a fight.

“They became involved the moment they came into your life, my darling.” They snapped back. “You’re just too blind to recognize that what you call protection is damnation!”

“From you!”

“From me?! You absolute shit filled idiot! It’s not just me. It’s never just been me. And do you know why?”

The Hero remained silent and glaring, shoulders hitching in pain.

“Because I swore that I would flay and gut anyone who crossed you without my leave. You think you know what power is.” The Villain laughed, only to fold double with a wet cough. Blood dribbled from their mouth, landing with a wet pat on the cement. “Well, darling. That, is power.”

“It’s not true power if it’s based in fear,” The Hero argued. 

“And what would you have it be? Respect?”

“Ideally? Yes.”

“Well news flash for you. Fear and respect are of a kind, in the grand scheme of things. At least with fear you actually know where you stand with people. They’re not lying behind your back or to your face, making protestations that they love and adore you when in truth they are terrified of you. Terrified of what you may become should your oh so precious morals fail.

“Me?” The Villain uttered a bitter, agonized laugh. “They know what I am, and I know what they think I am. They don’t expect me to ask for forgiveness, and I’m unapologetic in my actions. That’s as close to being truly free as you can be in this fucked society.”

“That sounds like a lonely way to live.”

The Villain rolled their eyes and straightened, throwing their shoulders back despite the pain that racked their entire body.  

“It’s a true way to live, dear Hero. And I’d rather be isolated and lonely and free than surrounded by the cage of the peoples’ adoration.” They turned and limped away, the Hero’s gaze searing into their back. “Don’t think this is over, either.” The Villain paused and sent a look of complete, malicious intent over their shoulder at the sagging Hero. “This is just the beginning, dear Hero. Revenge is a sweet and sublet thing, and subtly has never been your strong suit. You’ll be lucky if you survive long enough to see that revenge come to fruition.”

With that they left, refusing to let the Hero see just how much pain they were in.

When starting a war, it never bode well for your enemy to know you were weak before the first shots were even fired.

And what a war this would be. 

Empathy

A Hero/Villain piece

It is to be noted that this is one of the few remaining H/V pieces. Cursed Prince posts will resume promptly.

“You don’t understand!” The Hero choked. 

The Villain stood completely still, their face a mask. 

“Actually, I do,” they murmured, tone neutral.

The Hero shot them an agonized look, desolation ravaging their insufferably confident expression. Their face crumpled, and they curled over themselves as gut wrenching sobs tearing from their chest. 

Seeing the Hero so low, so utterly broken, cracked the Villain’s icy facade. Tears welled in their eyes, and they knelt, slowly. They reached out, slower still, to the Hero. 

Their hand brushing the Hero’s shoulder, they expected the Hero to retaliate, to lash out in grief or rage or some violent combination of both. Instead the Hero collapsed back and to the side, landing agains the Villain’s body. 

Shocked, the Villain did all they could think to do: they held the Hero. After a moment they ran their hand down the Hero’s head and back in soothing strokes. 

“It’s alright…” they whispered. They were unsure if the Hero heard them. 

“How can… can it…” the Hero sobbed, fist bunching in the Villain’s freshly pressed linen shirt. 

A flicker of annoyance flashed through the Villain at the inconvenience, but they didn’t say anything. Instead they held the Hero tighter as sobs continued to wrack their powerful body. 

They were surprised to realize they didn’t want to gloat. Didn’t want to make a snide comment about sentimentality and weakness and goodness. All they wanted to do was be there. In the moment. For the Hero. In the only way they knew how. 

As a Villain, they’d had countless moments like this, feeling so desolate they didn’t know how to move forward. But always, always, their Minion had been there. Sometimes they talked. Sometimes they sat in silence, in each other‘s arms. And sometimes they simply occupied the same space. Sure, the Villain had comforted their Minion a time or two. But never like this. 

They blinked furiously, refusing to let the Hero realize they were as human as the next fool by crying. 

The Villain held the Hero. 

Through screams of anguish and gasping sobs, they held them. They held them for an eternity, a moment, an indeterminate amount of time, until their knees and legs were screaming and throbbing in protest at being folded under the weight of two bodies, their back aching from the angle in which they sat. And yet they never let go. 

Eventually the Hero’s sobs died out, their sorrow and rage and grief spent, if only for the moment. After a prolonged moment of silence they gripped the Villain in a ferocious hug, nails biting into the Villain’s back through their thoroughly ruined shirt. 

The Villain didn’t say anything, only returned the embrace even as their desire to run, to escape, returned in full force. 

A moment later the Hero sat up. Their face was splotchy and tear streaked, their eyes swollen and red. There was a crease across their forehead from the Villain’s shirt, which was soaked in tears and snot. 

The Hero looked at the Villain. 

Neither spoke. Neither had to. Sometimes silence spoke louder than words. 

Heaving a sigh the Hero pushed to their feet, reaching a hand down to the Villain. 

The Villain took it, allowing themselves to be pulled to their feet. 

Still they didn’t say anything, even though snarky comments were fighting to break through their momentary vow of silence. 

The Hero met their gaze with tear-rimmed eyes, their hands still clasped with the Villain’s. If they noted the tears still clinging to the Villain’s lashes they didn’t comment. 

“Thank you…” they rasped. They squeezed the Villain’s hand, and the Villain squeezed back. 

The Villain opened their mouth to reply, comment, retort, anything to break the sudden tension. They never got the chance. 

With a decisive nod, the Hero released their hand, turned, and strode away, leaving the Villain standing alone in the empty alley. 

“The fuck just happened?” The Villain murmured into the rainy night. They were suddenly shivering, but whether from nerves, anticipation, cold, or a combination, they couldn’t tell. 

All they knew, in that moment, was that something irrevocable had passed between themself and the Hero. As they turned and walked the opposite direction, they realized that it wasn’t a bad thing. 

What that meant for their feud remained to be seen, true. But for now… 

For now they had come to an understanding. And the Villain felt less alone than they had in years. 

Flicker

A Hero/Villain Piece

For those of you who’ve read others, this piece can be considered a loose prelude to Grey

The Villain reached down and lifted the Sidekick’s head, fingers pressed to the underside of their chin.

“You,” the Villain tsked, “Have a hopelessly misplaced sense of trust, my dear.” 

The Sidekick glowered, their lips trembling in rage and pain. 

“They’ll come,” they rasped. “The Hero always comes.” 

The Villain laughed, a dark sensual thing that wrapped its fingers around the Sidekick’s throat, its intent choking them with fear. They struggled to look away from the Villain’s gaze. 

“My sweet, sweetly naive Sidekick.” They ran their finger down the Sidekick’s jaw to their neck. They squeezed, and the Sidekick had a weird sense of de ja vu. 

“The Hero isn’t coming for you.” They leaned in, lips brushing the Sidekick’s ear. The Sidekick whimpered, and the Villain smiled. “The Hero isn’t coming, and neither is anyone else. You.” They squeezed harder; the Sidekick’s eyes bulged. “Are.” They pressed a kiss to their jaw. “Mine.”

When the Villain leaned back, a flicker of doubt shone in the Sidekick’s eyes. 

They wouldn’t, they thought, too weak to break free from the Villain’s grasp, weak as it was. They wouldn’t leave me, would they? 

As the Villain straightened, that damned smirk still curling their lips, the Sidekick realized they didn’t know the Hero at all. 

Shouldn’t I know that? They wondered, desperation clawing at their throat as the Villain turned and grinned as they shut and locked the door, leaving the Sidekick to their thoughts. The Villain’s laughter echoed around them. Taunting them.

A tear rolled down Sidekick’s cheek as more questions and doubts began to crowd their mind. 

Maybe the Villain is right.

A lump welled in their throat.

Why would they come for me?

More tears fell, and the Sidekick was glad the Villain wasn’t around to see, to mock their fear and faith.

Faith that began to waver the longer they sat there, alone in the cold dark of the cell. 

Why would they care about me? The Sidekick thought, curling in on themselves around their bound wrists.

I’m just a Sidekick. 

Domestic

A Hero/Villain piece.

The Villain woke with a start and a gasp. They tried sitting up, but gave up as their entire body creaked and ached in protest. Groaning they closed their eyes against the glare from the window across from them. They relaxed back, and were surprised to realize they were… in a bed? 

Upon further inspection, dragging their hands over the fabric beneath them, they realized the sheets were soft, clean. Not as high a thread count as their own, but comfortable and cozy. 

They were also naked, under the blankets. 

Wondering what the hell had happened or who they had fucked to get here, they tried sitting up again. 

Their ribs creaked, and every muscle in their upper body barked in dull agony, but slowly they managed to sit up, the sheets and blankets piling around their hips. 

They were in a modest room: queen size bed with too many blankets, a dresser, and a small bookshelf. There was a closet as well but the door was closed, preventing the Villain from identifying who’s bed they were in. There was also some art on the wall above the dresser, but it was too dim for them to make any details out beyond ‘squiggly plant shape.’ 

Clanking came from the half-open door to their left. 

Intrigued, the Villain geared themself, took a deep breath, and stood. They swayed on weak legs for a moment or two before finding the strength to stand unaided.

There was no sign of their clothes, no sign of their beloved coat. 

Someone’s going to pay, they thought, grinding their teeth. 

Heedless of their nakedness they opened the door, padding across cheap carpet into a narrow hall. A few more pieces of original art hung from the walls – more plants, and what looked suspiciously like a nude done in charcoal – which opened onto a cozy, lived-in sitting room. Books littered the desk in the corner, and more blankets were piled on the overstuffed loveseat in the middle of the room that faced a southern window. 

Another clank sounded from the right, and the Villain turned just as the Hero stepped around the corner from the galley kitchen. 

“Oh. You’re up.” If they were shocked or embarrassed by the Villains nudity, their face didn’t show it. Someone had bathed the Villain, that was clear from the unfamiliar scent in their hair. “I made you some tea.” 

The Villain stared, bewildered by the simple statement.

“Made me tea?’ They looked at the Hero, then around the apartment, realization dawning on them. They were in the Hero’s home. 

They turned to peer at the Hero, who still stood halfway behind the kitchen wall. Never looking away, the Villain strode to the couch, folding their legs under them as they settled in the corner, the image of polite interest.

“What happened?” They asked bluntly. They pulled a blanket around their shoulders. Not because they cared what the Hero thought. Of course not. They were just cold. 

“I found you dying in a ditch.” The Hero deadpanned. 

The Villain snorted. 

“No. Seriously. What happened?”

“That did.” 

When the Hero didn’t elaborate the Villain sat up a little straighter. 

“Wait. You’re serious, aren’t you…”

“Would I lie to you?”

The Villain squinted, searching for a trap. 

“That depends on the situation.”

The Hero shrugged. 

“Sure. But not in this situation. Whoever attacked you was long gone by the time I got to you.” 

“Why didn’t you take me to a hospital?”

That summoned a weak grin from the Hero. Leave it to the Villain to turn a simple act of kindness into an interrogation. 

“And waste all that time and expose you as human to the masses while you were unconscious? That hardly seems fair.” 

The Villain ceded the point with an elegantly indifferent lift of an exposed shoulder. 

“Fair enough. But why here?” 

“Where else could I have gone?”

That gave the Villain pause. The location of their lair was a well kept secret. Even their minions didn’t know the location, all but their most trusted agents arriving blindfolded and hooded. That left their bunker, which apparently would have been too… gauche, and a hospital. Which meant…

“Why save me at all?” They demanded, suspicious and peeved that the Hero had been right about something. 

The Hero paused, deeply considering the question. 

“It didn’t seem fair.” 

“Life is hardly fair. You know that. I’ve taught you well enough.” 

“True. But… I don’t know.” The Hero shrugged, and folded their arms over their chest. “Seemed the thing to do.” 

The Villain scoffed. Typical Hero mentality. 

“Mm. If you insist. I’ll have that tea now, if you don’t mind.” 

Shaking their head but smirking, the Hero pushed off the wall and rounded the corner. They returned a minute later with a steaming vat of milky tea. 

“Cream and three sugars, as you like it.” They handed the massive mug to the Villain. 

“Why are you being so damn nice to me?” The Villain said, taking the mug. It warmed fingers they hadn’t realized were cold.  

The Hero was about to answer but the Villain cut them off. “And don’t go on about it being the right thing to do. God knows I’ve done enough horrible things to you and your Sidekick that it would have been poetic justice for you to let me die wherever the hell you found me. There’s another reason and you and I both know you know it.” They cringed inwardly at the shoddy logic, but stared hard at the Hero, waiting for an answer. 

A long moment passed before the Hero finally replied. 

“I.. seeing you there, unmoving…” they paused. “It scared me, what I felt.” 

“And what was that?” The Villain’s lip curled in a half-sneer.

“Desperation? A regret that this…” the Hero waved their hand, encompassing them both. “Our game could be over so soon, so quickly. And without my knowing how or why.” 

Both fell silent at the implications. 

Try as they might, the Villain couldn’t for the life or death of them remember what had happened the night before. Surly they hadn’t been careless enough to allow themselves to be drugged. But if not that, then…

“I took your coat to the dry cleaners,” the Hero said into the quiet, shaking their head slightly. “It should be ready this afternoon. And your clothes are just about done in the dryer. Had to wash them a few times to get the blood and dirt out. I doubt your pants will ever be the same again.” 

The Villain barked a laugh, though their thoughts remained fixed on bloody, painful revenge. 

“Well. I suppose the effort must count for something, even if you completely ruined them.” 

The Hero smiled ruefully. 

“In the mean time, you can wear anything you find in the closet. Though I doubt it’s up to your standards.” 

The Villain nodded wisely. It was undoubtedly a blow to their ego, just thinking about wearing fast fashion. But they were curious to see what sort of things the Hero wore on the daily. 

“Aren’t you worried I’ll try something?” Their expression was wry, a challenge gleaming in their eyes. 

The Hero looked at them, expression unreadable. Unfazed. 

“It wouldn’t surprise me, no. But I don’t think you will.”

“Oh? Enlighten me.”

The Hero spread their hands, eyebrows comically raised. 

“You’ve never struck me as the type to over exert yourself.” 

The Villain scowled. Damn the Hero for being so damn perceptive. But, never one to say no to a little pampering, the Villain settled back in the seat as the Hero disappeared around the corner again. 

“I’ll make you breakfast, though I don’t have much.”

A chorus of banging and clanking followed, and the Villain was struck by how ridiculous this situation was. 

Them, sitting naked in a blanket, in the Hero’s living room, while the Hero made them breakfast.

Was this normal peasant behavior?

They took a sip of their tea, surprised to find it was exactly as they liked it. 

Just as the Hero had claimed it to be.

The Villain glared out the window, even as they took another sip, savoring the way the tea warmed them from the inside out. 

This was all together too weird. The Villain couldn’t quite believe they were having such a… domestic moment, and with their nemesis, of all people. 

The sound of a fridge door opening and closing drew their attention back to the little haven they were in. 

“Toast and eggs?”

When the Villain realized the Hero was waiting for an answer, they spoke. 

“That is acceptable.”

“How do you take ‘em?”

It took the Villain a moment to realize what they were asking. 

“O- Oh. Scrambled whites, feta, onions, and mushrooms if you have them.”

“I’m not the Ritz, you know.”

The Villain sighed dramatically, sinking deeper into the couch. 

“Fiiiiiine. However you deem fit, oh wise kitchen god.”

A snicker met the statement, but the Hero didn’t say anything else as they set about making breakfast. 

A Treacherous Path

Trigger warning for violence, dub con, and minor sexual content

After losing yet another fight, the Hero woke once again in the Villain’s home.They were tied, as usual, to an uncomfortable chair. Though this time they were in what they assumed was some sort of sitting room. Though, given the presence of only a single love seat across from the their chair, they had to assume this room served other, darker purposes most of the time.

Disgusted with themselves, with the Villain, and with the world in general, the Hero immediately began working at the knots that bound their hands. The Villain’s rope work was spectacular as usual, but the Hero had been doing research. In a matter of minutes and a few dislocated joints, they had their hands and one foot free. They were working on the other one when the Villain entered the room. 

“Wha…” the Villain gaped, dropping their tea. It hit the hardwood floor and shattered. 

With a snarl the Hero tore the remaining rope from their body, and launched themselves at the Villain. This was a rare opportunity and they weren’t going to waste it. Besides, they had a score to settle.

Coming within reach, the Hero flung a fist at the Villain, hoping the suddenness of their attack was enough. 

It wasn’t. With effortless grace, the Villain dodged the blow, and landed one of their own on the Hero’s ribs. 

The Hero grunted, but turned and attacked again. 

“Well isn’t this fighting spirit new,” the Villain commented, dodging one punch only to take a kick to their upper thigh. They staggered, but maintained their defensive position. 

“Oh, it’s always been here,” panted the Hero, eyes burning. 

“Has it? I hadn’t noticed.”

The Hero yelled, and threw themselves at the Villain. Shockingly, the direct attack worked. The Villain – surprised at finding the Hero free, and unbalanced from the blow to their leg – wasn’t fast enough. They tried to slip aside as they always did, but instead caught the Hero’s bulk full in the chest. 

They barely had time to catch their breath before the Hero slammed them into the wall, knocking the wind from them again. Using the moment, the Hero grabbed their neck, locking their fingers behind their jaw. The Villain’s eyes bulged in surprise. 

“I should crush your throat,” the Hero growled. “For what you did to my Sidekick.”

“Ah, so that’s what’s got you so worked up.” The Villain grabbed the Hero’s shirt and twisted, searching for a hold. They kneed the Hero in the thigh, stepped on their feet, but it was no use. The Hero’s grip was relentless. As was the weight of their body, keeping them pinned against the wall. “I was wondering when that would come up. I should have thought of it soo-achk-“

Their taunt was cut off as the Hero upped the pressure on their throat. 

The Villain had a moment of panic as their vision darkened on the edges. But they found they still had a voice. 

“Do it then,” the Villain goaded, vocal cords whistling. Their eyes gleamed dangerously. “Avenge your Sidekick.”

The Hero sneered, and nearly lifted the Villain off the ground. 

The Villain smirked, despite being choked. They knew they had the upper hand now. 

“Ah. But you… won’t, will… You… You’ve proven… that before.” 

The Hero snarled and leaned in, thinking rapidly. Clearly threats of physical harm didn’t work with on the Villain.  Their face was a breath from the Villain’s.

 A sudden thought occurred to them, something that could potentially put the odds in their favor.  

They slackened their grip on the Villain’s neck and closed the distance. They breathed on the Villain’s lips, holding the Villain’s gaze with their own. 

“What are you doing?” The Villain asked, bemused and completely nonplussed. They even stopped struggling, their body still.

“I…” The Hero’s chest rose and fell with startled breaths. It hadn’t worked. But something had shifted. “I don’t…”

Suddenly the tension between them was different. More heated. 

One moment, they’d been seconds away from killing each other, the next…

The Villain pulled on the Hero’s collar, bringing them closer.

Their gazes locked.

And then they were kissing. 

Frantically. 

Viciously. 

The Hero’s hands shifted from the Villain’s throat to cup their head and grab their hair, and the Villain wrapped their arms around the Hero, suddenly needing to truly feel them. 

The Hero broke the kiss first, gasping. 

“What are you doing?” They rasped, fingers till tangled in the Villain’s glossy hair. 

“I don’t know.” The Villain giggled. “You started it though, and isn’t it wonderful?” They kissed the Hero again, fingers digging into the muscles of their back. 

Deciding to return the odds to their favor, the Villain reached up and jerked the Hero’s hair, pulling their head back. 

The Hero let out a startled yelp that turned into a sigh as the Villain began kissing their neck. They pressed kisses to the hollow of their throat, their collar bone, the pocket behind their jaw, and was pleased to hear the Hero’s breathing become even more ragged. 

Backing them up towards the love seat, the Villain pressed the Hero to their knees. The Hero didn’t resist, instead pulling the Villain down with them. 

With no idea what they were doing, but enjoying it all the same, the Villain straddled the Hero’s hips and leaned the Hero back until their back was pressed into the couch cushions, chest and throat beautifully exposed. 

This was certainly a new way to play their little game. And the Villain was far from disappointed with this development.

With a quick shrug of their shoulders the Villain freed themselves from the Hero’s arms. Grabbing their wrists, they extended and pinned the Hero’s arms down, holding them in place with the weight of their body. Staring down at the Hero, prone before them as they should be, the Villain decided they wanted to continue whatever this was shaping up to be. They kissed the Hero again, letting their desire for control guide them. 

The Hero struggled, but only half heartedly, and after a few seconds they melted into the Villain’s rhythm.

Forgetting themself and their game, the Villain released one of the Hero’s hands to run their hand under the Hero’s shirt.

“Oh Hell,” the Villain breathed, feeling the Hero’s body in a completely new way.

Finding a hand free, the Hero briefly considered fighting, doing anything besides continuing to maul the Villain’s face. Instead they wrapped an arm around the Villain’s back and pulled them closer. 

A surprised gasp escaped the Villain at the new friction between them, and the Hero grinned like a cat. 

Clearly this was a game, and two could play.

Feeling the Villain tense, the Hero lurched forward, sending the Villain sprawling backwards. The Hero sprang after them and straddled them, pinning their shoulders to the ground with their elbows. 

Perplexed, the Villain stared at the Hero, cheeks flushed, lips swollen. 

The Hero looked down at them, surprised at themselves. 

“What now?” The Villain asked, trying and failing to keep their tone steady; their voice cracked halfway through the question. 

Digging their elbows in, the Hero leaned forward, savoring the way the Villain gasped in discomfort. 

“Now?” The Hero mused. Their expression turned positively devious. They shifted their hips, and the Villain tipped their head back, eyes closed, throat bobbing as they swallowed a moan. “Now, I leave you with a parting gift.”

Leaning down, they kissed the Villain hard and swift. Then they shot to their feet and bolted out the door, leaving the Villain too stunned and frustrated to follow. 

***

The Hero didn’t stop running until they reached the street outside. They took the stairs three at a time, practically falling on the bottom flight in their haste to get away from… whatever that was. 

On the street, the night air was cool against their flushed cheeks. The Hero slowed to a brisk walk, feeling like their skin was too tight.

They took a shaky breath, mind reeling.

They shook their head, surprised to find that they were trembling.

But they weren’t… scared. They were… 

Exhilarated. 

Blinking, the Hero realized with horror that they liked the feel of the Villain’s hands on them, the way they…

No. The Hero thought. I shouldn’t be… We’re sworn enemies, nemeses. Hero, and Villain. I can’t afford to let the Villain get to me like that. Especially not after what they did.

They thought about what the Villain had done to their Sidekick, tried to elicit some of the rage they’d felt such a short time ago. It was there, that rage and hate. But it didn’t feel as potent in light of what had transpired between themself and the Villain.

Their thoughts strayed back to the feeling of the Villain beneath them, of the Villain at their mercy for once. 

It was intoxicating, that kind of power. 

The Hero suddenly understood the Villain on a level they never thought they would, and wasn’t sure they wanted to. 

Shaking themselves from their dazed reverie, the Hero turned a corner and hailed a cab. They were in no state to drive. Besides, the likelihood of a Minion lurking by their car was high, and they didn’t want to go back to that room. Back to the Villain.

At least not yet.

Sliding into the back seat of the cab, and absently giving their address, the Hero couldn’t refute the fact that they had been the one to initiate the shift in the game.

 And as much as they wanted to deny it, to deny everything that had just happened, the Hero knew they had just taken a step down a very treacherous path indeed. 

An Addition

Hello my lovelies! (again)

I have a number of playlists dedicated to Hero/Villain pieces, and it occurred to me that I could share them here! So, here you go!

Elegant Villainy: which inspired Evil Tea Party
Fekin Fabulous, let’s have a great time
Hero/Villain angst

Dangerous Temptation

Trigger warning for violence

The fight had been longer than usual.

Once again, it was the Villain who instigated.

Wasn’t it always the Villain who instigated? I suppose it depends on who you ask.

But this time, the Hero had the upper hand. It was rare that this happened. And so often in the past had they let their opportunity pass, that this time… this time… the Hero would have the final word.

After downing the Villain, they hadn’t left the Villain for whichever Minion to find. No, they’d taken the Villain to their own special bolthole. It was nicer than a warehouse, but not much more comfortable. The Hero started using the abandon mansion as a sort of sanctuary when the rigors and responsibility of being a Hero got to be too much. Here they could relax. Here, they could experiment.

“What…” the Villain spat, waking up with a jerk. They were poorly tied in an uncomfortable chair, the Hero sitting before them. This had never happened to them before. They weren’t entirely sure they liked it. But they didn’t dislike it either. This position had an air of… opportunistic irony about it that they could appreciate.

The Hero leaned forward and grabbed their cheeks with their nails. The Villain tried to pull away, expression defiant, but the Hero held them fast. 

The Villain heaved a sigh. 

“I schposh…” they drawled around the Hero’s fingers. The Hero released them enough to speak. 

“I suppose this is you thinking you’re clever, isn’t it?” 

The Villain leaned back, exposing their chest while they stretched their legs out. A pity about their hands and arms being tied. Their neck hurt. 

“You think that after me being your prisoner.. what… once? Will ever make you my equal?” 

The Hero glared and started to say something but the Villain cut them off with a laugh.

“You’re pathetic! If you think this…” they shrugged their arms, spread their knees. I”s enough to cow me…” 

The Hero snarled and slapped the Villain. And was met with another laugh. 

“AHAH! FINALLY!” They laughed again, gleefully. “You’re finally realizing the value of physical violence. Come on, do it again.” 

The Hero blinked at the Villain. 

“What?” 

“Oh please. Hit me. Hit me again, with all the strength you have.”

The Hero hesitated and the Villain kept talking. 

“Or are you too morally right? Too polite to-” 

The Villain grunted as the Hero punched them hard in the face. The Hero felt surprisingly better for it. 

“You talk too much,” the Hero said. 

Head still to the side, the Villain gave the Hero a side eye. 

“Yes, it’s because everyone else is a bore. Someone has to make up for-” 

The Hero hit them again, and this time the amusement faded from the Villain’s face. Blood trickled from their nose to their lips. 

They looked at the Hero, noted their heightened breathing, the barely restrained rage burning in their eyes. 

A soft chuckle escaped the Villain, and they spoke again in a slightly nasally voice. 

“Yes. You see? The power it gives you, having someone at your mercy.”

They straightened, and let their head fall back, a sensual smile playing shout their bloody lips. 

“It’s intoxicating, isn’t it?”

“SHUT UP!” The Hero yelled. They shoved the Villain in the shoulders, sending them and the chair to the floor. The Villain grunted upon impact, but was relieved to find the ropes had untied in the fall. 

“But why?” The Villain said from the ground, awkwardly peering at the Hero. “Because you don’t like the truth of what I’m saying?” 

“No. Yes… Gah…” The Hero’s shoulders fell, their expression crumpling in confusion. 

“It’s alright my darling Hero.” The Villain wiggled their hands free of the knots. “I understand.”

“No, you don’t.” 

“Oh, but I do. I understand you completely.”

“I’m nothing like you! The hero hissed, some of their fire returning. I’ll never be like you.” 

The Villain hummed.

“You say that now…” 

In  a flash they were on their feet, the rope in their hands. Before the Hero could react the Villain had the rope wrapped around their neck. They twisted, and the Hero gasped, clawing at the Villain’s hands. 

“But one day soon you’ll realize…” The Villain’s voice was silky as hey twisted the rope further. The Hero hacked and choked. “There are benefits of giving into your desires.” 

They leaned in and tenderly kissed the Hero’s cheek. 

“So you see,” they murmured. The Hero was nearly unconscious. “You just have to take what you want, when you want. And when you do that?” They peered into the Hero’s bloodshot eyes. “That is when you are truly free.” 

With that they released the rope and sauntered to the door. The Hero fell to their knees, chest and shoulders heaving as they sucked in breath after breath, tears and spit running down their face. 

“If you ever decide to pursue some more… illicit interests,” the Villain said, pausing in the doorway. “You know where to find me.”

And they were gone. 

As the Hero regained their breath, their throat aching, they thought about where it went wrong. They didn’t know. But the Villain’s words…

The Hero punched the floor, bloodying their knuckles.

The Villain had ended the fight with the upper hand.

Again.

Damn it.

Glaring at the door, the Hero made a vow to themselves. One day. One gods’ damn day, they would come out on top, no matter what.

Succession

A Hero/Villain piece

TW for violence

Sounds of fighting reverberated around the abandoned construction sight. Shouts, grunts, and fists hitting flesh mingled with the overall soundtrack of the night-shrouded city. 

And yet no one knew of the fight besides a few sleepy pigeons in the scaffolding, unbothered by the violence unfolding beneath them.

A crack echoed, followed by a scream, and the Villain sagged in the Hero’s grip. With a grunt of effort and disgust the Hero flung the Villain away. 

The Villain grunted and cried out again, rolling twice before stopping, their cane feet out of reach. They struggled to their knees, only to be shoved back down as the Hero’s kicked them in the chest.

“Please…” the Villain rasped, blood trickling from their lips. “That the worst you can do?” Movement caught their eye, and they saw the Sidekick emerge from the room where they’d kept them for the past two days. 

Catching their look, the Hero looked around. Renewed rage filled their eyes to see the Sidekick stagger into the light, battered and scraped. 

The Sidekick, ropes still hanging from their wrists, watched in horror as the Hero grabbed the Villain by the collar and began punching them in the face repeatedly. 

“STOP! The Sidekick cried. They ran forward, and grabbed the Hero’s bloody fist, stopping another blow. 

“This isn’t the way!”  They cried. The Villain’s head lolled, blood pouring from a broken nose. Their shoulder was dislocated, hanging awkwardly at their side. 

“It’s not your way, maybe.” The Hero growled, eyes flashing.

“Wha…?” 

With jerky movements, the Hero stood, shoving the Villain down where they lay slowly moving in pain, their breaths whining through a bruised throat. 

Steely resolve shone in the Hero’s eyes as they reached into an inner pocket. 

“What are you…” The Sidekick began. Their eyes widened as the Hero drew a gun, leveling it at the Villain. 

The Villain wheezed on a laugh, blood burbling on their lips. 

“You can’t do it… we’ve been…”

An ear-shattering bang sounded, echoing around the concrete and metal structure, finally startling the pigeons into panicked flight.

The Sidekick screamed, and the Villain slumped back, dead. 

“WHAT THE HELL?!” The Sidekick cried, half hysteric. 

“I did what had to be done.” The Hero’s voice was devoid of emotion. “They’d have killed you. I killed them first.”

“IT DOESN’T MATTER!” The Sidekick was shaking. “You’re the Hero!”

The Hero looked at the Sidekick, expression sympathetic. 

“Exactly. I’m the Hero. The press will believe me when I say I acted in your defense.

“But…” the Sidekick swallowed a sob. “But that isn’t… that’s not how these things are… should be done! You taught me that.”

The Hero hummed, tapping the warm barrel of the gun to their lips. A smudge of gun powder remained behind. 

“Be that as it may, can’t things be different?”

The Sidekick looked at the Hero, confused despite the horror of what they’d seen. 

“What?”

“Cant things be different. Together we can change things. You and me. We can make it so there won’t ever be the need for Heroes again.”

“This isn’t you.” The Sidekick began backing away. Whatever had just happened, it wasn’t right. Nothing about this was right. “What do you mean?”

 The Hero’s expression turned hurt. 

“Of course it’s me. It’s your Hero. I’m the same person you joined up with all those months ago.”

“No. You… you’re different. Something…” the Sidekick stuttered into silence at the sudden change in the Hero’s eyes. 

“Something what?” They asked. 

“Something changed in you.”

“Fah. Nothing changed. I’m still the same. My eyes were just opened fo the follies of the old ways. But together,” the Hero stepped closer, eyes fevered. “Together you and I can make this city whole. We can change THAT for the better. And after that?” Their eyes gleamed. 

“No. You’re wrong.” The Sidekick continued ending away, the Hero pacing after them, and only stopped when their back hit the wall. “You’re just… You’re becoming the Villain!” 

Silence resounded through the site. 

“What did you say?” The Hero’s voice was deadly quiet.  

The Sidekick stood up straighter, expression set.  

“You heard me. You’re becoming what you swore to stop.”

The Hero laughed then, a harsh sound so at odds with their familiar and once-kind face. 

“Don’t you see? I did stop it. I stopped the Villain.” They pointed at the Villain’s battered body. The Sidekick glanced, and looked away quickly. 

It was all wrong. 

“Yes. But what cost?” The Sidekick asked quietly. 

The Hero regarded them steadily, considering. 

“I see,” they said. They sounded sad. “I understand.” They took a step forward, and the Sidekick cringed away, hands grasping for something, anything, to use as a weapon. “You just don’t see it, do you?”

“See what?” The Sidekick’s hand found something loose and metal. They grabbed it, but kept it hidden. 

“My vision.” The Hero signed, suddenly exhausted. “And I can’t have shortsighted people working with me. You’ll only slow me down.”

They primed the gun, and the Sidekick suddenly understood. 

“This is your last chance,” the Hero said, leveling the gun at the Sidekick’s chest. “Are you with me? Or-“

The Sidekick, cold metal in their hand, didn’t hesitate. 

“No.” 

Before the Hero could react beyond a narrowing of their eyes, the Sidekick swung. They caught the Hero in the face with a slim metal pipe. A sickening sound followed the impact. 

The Hero shrieked in pain, clamping a hand to their eyes, the gun falling to the floor with a clatter. 

“WHAT DID YOU DO!” They screamed, curling forward. Blood dripped between their fingers, papping on the concrete. Snarling, the Hero’s hands dropped away, and the Sidekick bolted from the sight of the Hero’s contorted face. From the one bloody eye socket and the remaining eye that was filled with fury. Nothing remained of the person they’d met and spent so much time with.

And come to love, in their own way.

“YOU FUCKING LITTLE SHIT!” The Hero lunged for the Sidekick, but missed, their depth perception forever skewed. 

The Sidekick dodged the grab, and ran as fast as they could while the Hero continued screaming profanities behind them. 

They burst out into the empty yard of the site, tripping over boards and other hazards. They didn’t care. 

“YOU WILL PAY!” Screamed a voice they didn’t recognize as the Hero’s. “YOU HEAR ME?! THIS IS JUST THE BEGINNING!”

The Sidekick tripped, skinning their hands and knees as they slid over the gravel and sand covered ground. They barely felt the sting as they struggled to their feet and kept running. They didn’t stop until they were a mile away, the Hero’s tortured screams echoing in their mind. 

What have I done? The Sidekick thought, staggering to a stop under a street light, gasping for breath, and in horror. 

The Villain was dead, killed by the Hero. 

And the Hero was…

The Sidekick sank to their heels, curling around themselves, and wrapping their blood-speckled-hands around their knees. The ropes were still hanging from their wrists. 

With an agonized cry they struggled out of the coarse cords, flinging them as far away as possible. They grabbed their hair, failing to keep the panicked sobs from escaping. 

The Hero had become the Villain, hadn’t they? 

And that meant-

They were the Hero. 

Devotion

A Minion/Villain piece.

A little different from previous posts, this piece introduces a new, recurring character: The Minion. After all, what is a Villain without a Minion, or a Hero without a Sidekick?

“Where were you? The Villain’s voice was cold. 

Caught in the middle of removing their coat, the Minion looked up, finding their Mastress sitting in a chair by the bay windows. Dusk was falling, staining the sky plum and citrine as a curtain of depthless indigo descended over the world. 

“I was running errands,” they said, hanging their coat and scarf on the rack. “Some of the supplies were low, and I thought-“

“Come here,” the Villain interrupted, waving at them to approach. 

Obediently, the Minion came to stand at the Villain’s side.  

“Why did you not tell me?” The Villain’s tone sent a thrill of warning through the Minion’s chest.  

“You were busy,” they said truthfully, hands stuffed in their pockets. “When I got back with the supplies you were still locked in your office, so I met someone for dinner.”

“Who did you meet?”

The Minion hesitated, fearing to say too much. 

“A friend.” It was true, to a point, but they didn’t want the Villain involved in their personal life more than they already were. 

Without warning The Villain surged to their feet and wrapped their hands around the Minion’s neck, driving them to their knees. The Minion didn’t resist, merely met the Villain’s gaze with something like resigned trust. 

“You are mine!” The Villain growled, squeezing just tight enough for the Minion’s eyes to widen in surprise. A moment later they released the Minion’s throat with a scoff, only to grip their cheeks instead, digging their nails in. “Do you understand?” They hissed. “Mine, and mine alone.” 

The Minion inhaled gently, relieved to have the Villains hands off their neck. It wasn’t the first time something like this had happened, nor would it be the last. Still, it was unsettling. 

“Say it.” The Villain’s voice was harsh, their expression difficult to read. 

The Minion blinked once, slowly, holding the Villain’s unwavering gaze. 

“I am yours.” They said softly, devoutly. 

“And?” The Villain dug their nails in harder. The Minion suppressed a wince. 

“Your wish is my command, Mastress.” 

A tense moment passed, neither so much as breathing. 

“Good.”

With a flourish the Villain released the Minion, leaving red crescent moons etched into the skin of their cheeks. 

Slowly, so as not to provoke them, the Minion rose to their feet, assuming a neutral stance. 

“Mastress?”

The Villain pressed their fingertips to the bridge of their nose, eyes closed.

“It’s been a long day,” the Villain sighed, as if carrying on a previous conversation. As if nothing untoward had happened. “I require a drink. You know which, I take it?” 

“Of course.” 

The Minion was about to leave when the Villain stopped them with a gentle touch on their shoulder. Pausing, the Minion turned, their chest a mere breath from the Villain’s. 

“I haven’t told you this enough, darling,” the Villain murmured. “But you… you are the reason…”

The Minion raised a hesitant brow when the Villain didn’t continue. 

“The reason?”

Forgoing an answer the Villain pressed their lips to the Minion’s, lingering just long enough to convey a vague sense of desperation. Grinning as they pulled back, the Villain savored the warring expressions on the Minion’s face; confusion, desire, fear, concern. 

“Why, you’re the reason I remain so fabulous, despite the Hero’s best efforts to make me otherwise.” 

The Minion nodded, a bemused smile on their mouth. 

“It’s my pleasure, Mastress,’ they said, their expression settling back into carefully practiced neutrality. “Shall I get your drink then?” 

The Villain waved their hand dismissively, the kiss already forgotten. 

“As you will, my dear.” 

Bowing slightly, the Minion departed. When they returned the Villain had resumed their seat by the window, staring out at the night-enshrouded cityscape below them. Without a word they set the drink on the table at the Villain’s elbow. 

“Do you require anything else, Mastress?” They asked. 

The Villain merely waved their fingers. But rather than cupping their chin again they took the Minion’s hand, staying their departure. 

“Stay here tonight,” they said. Their thumb traced idly over the Minion’s knuckles. “I want you ready for tomorrow.”

“Yes, Mastress.” 

The Minion returned the pressure of the Villain’s grasp before slipping their fingers free. 

“If you don’t need anything else, I’ll turn in, then.” 

Nodding idly, the Villain continued contemplating the view, knuckle pressed to their lips in thought. 

Taking the silence as a dismissal, the Minion headed for their bedroom, the door on the far side of the room. They stepped through and were about to close it when they paused. 

“Good night, Mastress,” the Minion said. 

“Good night, my darling. Sweet nightmares.” 

The Minion smiled and closed the door.  

Grey

A Hero/Villain Piece

In which a new, recurring side character is introduced: The Sidekick.

“So it comes to this,” the Villain sneered. Defiance flashed in their bruised eyes as they glared at the Hero from their knees. They took a deep breath, refusing to grimace as their ribs creaked. The Hero could hit hard when they wanted to. And if they were properly motivated. The Villain relished the satisfaction of a job well done, despite the pain. They had finally found the Hero’s weakness. At the cost of a few broken ribs and ruined coat, sure, but they knew how to plan for the future now. 

“Doesn’t it always?” The Hero asked. They looked impassively down at their nemesis. Blood covered the Villain’s face and stained their once impeccably white shirt. The sleeves were torn at the shoulder, soot and dirt was smeared across their chest, and their pants were ripped at the knees, their boots scuffed beyond repair. The remains of their coat lay in tatters around them, the fabric little more than threads. 

“Well, yes. But I’m usually the one standing over you crowing my victory.”

The Hero ignored the Villain’s jape, and turned to look at the wall behind them.

“Are you alright?” They called.

“Y… yes!” Came the quavery reply. From around the corner appeared the Hero’s Sidekick. They were battered and shaky on their feet, but at least they were alive. 

Seeing them, the Villain laughed, a harsh, maniacal cackle that frayed the Hero’s nerves. They’d heard that laugh too many times, and it never boded well.

“Stay where you are,” the Hero barked as the Sidekick approached.

“But they’re-”

“DO WHAT I SAY!” The Hero’s voice took on a quality that surprised the Villain. The Hero sounded… Frightened? Furious? That was interesting.

With a look that mirrored the Villain’s sentiment, the Sidekick stopped just out of reach. They wrapped their arms around their torso, shielding the cuts and bruises the Villain knew were visible through their thin, ripped shirt. After all, the Villain had inflicted them personally. 

Silence filled the warehouse, the sounds of the night-enshrouded city reaching the trio as if through a fog. It was one of the Villain’s favorite locations in the city. Just central enough to run the risk of getting caught, but just far enough out of the way that it was unlikely for screaming to be heard.

“I’m surprised,” the Villain rasped, breaking the relative silence. “I didn’t expect you to actually try to kill me.” They coughed, spitting a gob of bloody phlegm on the ground, disgusted with their mortality.

“You changed the rules when you brought them into this,” the Hero said, jerking their head at their Sidekick. “It was supposed to be just you and me. No one else.”

“Oh my darling Hero, such naiveté. It was never just about us.”

“What do you mean?”

“How can you say it was only ever about us with an entire city out there?” If it didn’t hurt so much the Villain would have gestured to encompass the surrounding metropolis. As it was, they sat up a little straighter, staring the Hero in the eyes. “It’s always been about them.” The Villain nodded at the Sidekick, who flinched as if they’d been struck. “About how they perceive us. How we affect them.”

“It’s not. You’re wrong,” the Hero whispered, anger flickering in their eyes. The cuts on their knuckles cracked open as they clenched their hands; blood trickled down their fingers.

“Am I?” The Villain laughed again, coughed, and sagged back onto their heels, supporting themself with an arm braced on the ground. Monologging was difficult with broken ribs. “Tell me, my Hero. When has anyone from the city ever asked about you, personally?”

The Hero’s silence was answer enough.

“Exactly. You see, it was never about us. It’s always been about our game, and what that game brings to news feeds and conversations. They don’t care about us. Hero, Villain. It makes no difference. We’re just actors to them, never mind that we live and walk among them. Even your lovely fragile Sidekick over there thinks so. Look at how they adore you, worship you, as if you’re nothing but an idol.”

“Then why did you bring them into this?” The Hero asked, eyes flicking to their Sidekick. They watched the exchange with rapt attention, proving the Villain’s point.

A satisfied smile crept across the Villain’s face.

“The game was growing stale. The masses’ attention was wavering. It was time to bring in a new player.”

Without warning, the Hero drew a gun from an inner pocket and leveled it at the Villains’ chest. Their carefully neutral visage cracked, their face filled with loathing.

The Villain’s eyes widened in fear for but a second before they schooled their own expression into unconcerned indifference. But the Hero saw the fear. Had they been looking anywhere but the Villain’s face, they would have missed it.

“Oh come on, really?” The Villain taunted. “Since when-“

“Since you made it personal.”

The Villain shrugged, the movement coming across as nervous rather than nonchalant. “It’s always been personal, my dear. Why do you think I chose you? Why I chose them?”

“Why?”

“You’re interesting. More interesting than other Heroes I’ve broken in the past. You’re resilient in a way that I admire. You remind me of me.”

“I’m nothing like you.”

The Villain chuckled. “We’ll see, my dear. We’ll see.”

The Hero didn’t say anything, but kept the gun leveled at the Villain. The Sidekick looked from one to the other, trepidation and confusion etched on their young face. 

“Go on then, do it!” The Villain surged to their feet so the barrel of the gun was inches from their chest. “You don’t have what it takes, do you? To kill someone in cold blood? Not unless you’re defending yourself or someone you love.” The Villain spat, ’love’ sounding like it burned their tongue. 

An ugly sneer contorted the Hero’s face as they struggled to keep their hand from shaking. They swallowed, and the Sidekick pressed a hand to their mouth, their eyes riveted on the Hero. 

After tense moment the Hero lowered the gun, never breaking eye contact with the Villain. 

“I knew you couldn’t do-“ the Villain’s taunt morphed into an agonized scream as the Hero shot them in the leg, the crack of gunfire echoing through the warehouse with deafening violence. The Villain fell back to their knees with another scream as their leg buckled.

“Oh my god!” The Sidekick yelled in horror.

The Hero glared down at the Villain. An unexpected, not wholly unwanted sense of pleasure bloomed through them as the as Villain writhed in pain at their feet for once. 

“You talk too much,” they said, failing to suppress an ironic smile.

“That’s no reason to shoot me!” The Villain groaned, holding their bleeding, mutilated thigh with a white knuckled grip. 

Chuckling, the Hero crouched down and took the Villain’s jaw between their fingers, pressing the barrel of the gun lightly against the Villain’s cheek. Their pleasure only grew to see genuine fear and doubt cross the Villain’s face. 

“Perhaps not,” the Hero said, their voice icy. “But kidnapping and torturing my Sidekick is.”

The Villain growled, and jerked their head away. The Hero let them, standing in a fluid movement. 

“You said the game was growing stale,” the Hero continued. “But you’re not the only one who can change the rules.”

With a turn the Villain reluctantly appreciated, the Hero strode away.

“Come on,” the Hero said as they neared their Sidekick, gently taking their arm. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

“But what about them?” The Sidekick asked, looking back at the Villain as they headed for the nearest door.

“Them?” The Hero looked over their shoulder, eyebrows raised.

The Villain snarled, lost their balance, and fell on their side with a grunt, blood oozing between their fingers to stain the concrete beneath them. “Don’t worry about them. Let’s go.”

The Hero and Sidekick were at the door when the Villain spoke up.

“Don’t leave me here, damn it!” They cried, desperation and pain tingeing their voice.

“You’ll be fine.” The Hero waved a dismissive hand, turning their back on their nemesis. “You always are, aren’t you? I’ll be disappointed if you don’t make a miraculous recovery.”

Without looking back the Hero guided their Sidekick outside, the Villain’s enraged, pained scream echoing after them. 

***

Fifteen minutes later the Villain staggered to their feet, leaving a trail of bloody bootprints in their wake.

Reaching the nearest wall, they sagged against it for support while they caught their breath. Their… everything fucking hurt, but their other injuries were pale trivialities compared to searing pain of the bullet wound.

With a grunt, the Villain pushed themself off the wall and kept going. As much as they wished they could call death and destruction down upon the city in petty vengeance, they knew that revenge was a dish best served cold and well prepared. 

Looking at the door through which the Hero had left, a satisfied chuckle shook itself from the Villain. 

During the Hero’s righteously indignant exit, they failed to remember their Sidekick. The Hero had been so determined to have the final word that they didn’t notice the youth glance back at the Villain, didn’t notice the look of reluctant, misplaced sympathy filling their eyes.

Oh, yes. The Villain thought. This time revenge is going to be sweeter than your cries of pain, my dear.

“You want to play that game, do you?” The Villain hissed, fear and pain replaced by furious determination.” They took another hobbling step forward and fell to their hands and knees with a strangled cry. Gritting their teeth, the Villain forced themselves to their feet, to take another step. A glint caught their eye, and the they reached down to retrieve a steel pipe. It was thin, if a little heavy. It would have to do for now. “Fine, we’ll play that game.” The Villain took an experimental step, using the pipe as a cane. They didn’t fall. “And before we’re finished, you’ll wish you had killed me when you had the chance.”