#just absolutely fukin it up in here with big bads bein big meanies

[raineandsky]

#49

“You’ll have my back, right?” the villain asks hopefully.

They’re leading the way, through twisting corridors and up long flights of stairs. Their henchman is trailing along behind them, not even keeping track of which way they're going. They’re going to the supervillain’s office. That’s all they gleaned from the villain’s excitable speech before they set off.

“Of course,” the henchman reassures with a smile. “Always.”

The supervillain’s office looks like a slightly eviller version of a normal office. It’s just a bit darker than average, black and red instead of pasty grey. The supervillain himself is sitting at his desk, slightly raised off the main floor like some sort of incredibly mundane throne.

“I’m glad you’re here, [Villain],” he opens flatly, as if he doesn’t really mean it. “Shut the door.”

The henchman slips through behind the villain, offering a quick grin of confidence as they pass. The supervillain raises an eyebrow at their appearance.

“I think you’ll find this is a private conversation, [Villain],” he adds pointedly as they shut the door behind them.

The villain frowns like this is obvious. “Won’t tell a soul, sir.”

The supervillain’s gaze flits lazily to the henchman, who is trying very hard to disappear into the corner of the room as any good henchman should. “You brought a subordinate.”

“Oh.” The villain turns to glance at the henchman, throwing them a quick smile. “Yeah, they’re good.”

The supervillain narrows his eyes like it’s a challenge. “Last chance.”

His expression does nothing to shift the innocence in the villain’s. “I’d like them here, actually.”

The supervillain lets his eyes slip back to the villain, his contempt clear in his face, but after a moment he relaxes, almost smug. “Very well.”

He finally leans back from the papers sitting in front of him, resting his hands on the polished ivory desk. “Your work has been lacking recently, [Villain],” he starts sombrely, and even from here the henchman can see how the villain deflates at the bluntness of it. “Our plans are often falling short because you aren’t doing your bit.”

“I– I’m trying,” the villain defends feebly. “I’ve had a lot going on. I can’t keep with it, I’m—”

“Do you think your schedule will matter when the heroes take half of us down because of an error you made?”  The villain stays quiet, their entire figure wilting, so the supervillain happily fills the silence. “Your mistakes are tallying up remarkably fast. I expect to see your behaviour remedied within this next week.”

His gaze flits to the henchman again, his mouth ever-so-slightly upturned into a disgusting smirk. “And don’t bring your lapdog to a private meeting next time. It makes you look weak.”

The villain turns back to glance at the henchman and their face pulls like they’re trying not to cry. “I’m sorry, sir,” they say quietly when they turn back, stifling a hiccuping sob. “I was– I was just—”

“Scared? Needing moral support?” the supervillain finishes harshly, and from the way the villain’s shoulders hunch it’s obvious the tears haven’t stayed back. “You’re pathetic. Get your shit together this week or you’re gone.”

He turns back to the papers on the desk like the conversation is over. The villain stares at him for a moment before turning away, motioning for the henchman to follow suit. One look at the kicked-puppy expression and poorly repressed snivels are all the henchman needs to burst into action. The villain seems to suddenly feel something other than despair when the henchman stalks past them and up towards the supervillain.

“[Henchman]—” is all they get to before the henchman’s hands slam against the desk, much to the supervillain’s barely concealed surprise.

“Excuse you?” he manages once his expression is back to nonchalance.

“Take it back,” the henchman demands, earning another blasé eyebrow raise. “[Villain] is not weak, or pathetic.”

His expression turns humoured. “Oh, the lapdog is for moral support!” He laughs ecstatically, and the henchman feels a light hand on their arm.

“Thank you, [Henchman], but it’s okay,” the villain whispers a little desperately, but the henchman’s not done. They carefully shrug their hand away, throwing them a soft glance that they hope conveys let me help you before turning coldly back to the supervillain.

“You think you’re so special because you sit in an office all day and do fuck all,” the henchman spits, much to the villain’s audible dismay, “but I know you could never do what they do. You complain about their performance at their worst when you couldn’t even match them at your best.”

“I sit in an office all day because I’m running this place,” the supervillain reminds them coldly, and the henchman scoffs with disrespect he likely hasn’t seen in a long time.

“And yet you’d be nothing without people like us doing everything for you. You think you can throw your weight around because everyone bows down to you, but I don’t.” The henchman huffs in annoyance, finally leaning back. “If you try to get rid of [Villain], you get rid of me, too.”

The supervillain grins as if it's an easy decision. “Then say your goodbyes.”

“But I’m the best lapdog you have around here.” The henchman’s expression twists into a sneer. “I was top of the league as a support to all the villains I helped. You lose me, you’re just stuck with a bunch of asshole villains who think they’re too good to ever be like me. Do you know what happens when a bunch of assholes trying to be the main character try to do anything on their own?”

“I can replace you,” the supervillain says quickly, and the henchman knows they’re backing him into a corner.

“I’m the best this place has seen in years. We’ll say our goodbyes, but good fucking luck surviving without us.” They turn on their heel, happily done with the conversation. “Let’s go, [Villain].”

The villain glances in horror between the two, stunned speechless, but a quick nudge from the henchman sets them into motion. The henchman opens the door for them at the end of the room, and it’s only then that the supervillain suddenly pipes up, his voice uncharacteristically hurried.

“I won’t dispose of you, [Villain],” he calls with fake confidence, earning pause from the pair in the doorway, “but I still expect improvement.”

“Y–Yes, sir,” the villain mumbles with a short nod, and with that the door shuts behind them.

The villain waits until they’re a little way down the corridor before they speak. “Holy shit!” they announce finally, grinning as they swipe at the last of the tears in their eyes. “[Henchman], you maniac! Oh, my god, thank you, thank you so much—”

“It’s alright, [Villain],” they offer with a bright smile. “I said I’d have your back.”