#superheroes and supervillains

[defectivehero]

"Don't touch me," the villain hisses, writhing in the hero's arms as they're unwillingly carried around.

"Would you prefer if I dropped you?" The hero hums, their eyes set on the skies ahead. "Left you to fall thirteen stories and collide with the pavement? That's certainly an option." They shrug.

"You wouldn't dare," the villain claims with manufactured confidence. Truthfully, their heart is racing in their chest as the two of them soar higher and higher in the sky. They have never quite trusted their enemy—and for good reason. Their morality runs rather grey for a hero, and the villain wouldn't be the least bit surprised if they took advantage of their momentary weakness to cause them even more pain.

The hero shrugs in response to the villain's accusation. Meanwhile, the villain clings on a little tighter, resolutely ignoring the laughter rumbling in their enemy’s chest.

©2024, @defectivehero | @defectivevillain, All Rights Reserved. Reblogs are greatly appreciated—just don't steal or share outside of Tumblr, please.

sorry this is sinfully short, y'all. zero motivation lmao

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[mirohtron]

The superhero went in to break the suturing thread with their teeth, and their breath brushed warm and tickled the villain's skin.

The villain shivered and gripped hard at the edge of the roof as though they'd fall. "Ouch," they said softly, a little helplessly, because their neck burned.

"Sorry."

The villain could hear the smile, so really, not very sorry. "That's not very hygienic," they mumbled. "I'm starting to think you want me to get infected and die."

"If I want you dead, I would've pushed you off this roof the moment I saw you."

The villain blinked, because they hadn't really thought of that, just of accidentally falling, so maybe they were a bit more dazed from the fight than they'd like to admit.

There was a grin in that sentence, too, though. The villain was grateful that the superhero was tending to the wounds on their back because then they wouldn't see the red creeping up the villain's face. The villain scraped their heels against the building's side to try for a distraction.

The superhero's knuckles pressed into the villain's tired, aching muscles as they dressed the wound. The pressure was so warm and relieving that the villain imagined melting into it, imagined the superhero holding them, like a delusional idiot. Then those hands left and the cold night felt colder.

The superhero lightly tapped the villain's elbow with a finger, so gently they could've imagined it. "Rest this on your knee," they said, so the villain brought their knee up and put their arm on it, and the action hurt because of the way the wounded muscle had to stretch, but it was nothing the villain couldn't handle. But the wounds were a little bad, they supposed, if the superhero was going to patch him up.

Or, perhaps, the superhero was just too good for this world. Or maybe the villain looked just that pathetic. Whichever came first. Both made their heart squeeze in largely different ways.

They'd seen the superhero work, on TV. They'd made him do commercials back then, intermissions where he'd teach children how to do this, that, how to fix the dishwasher, how to dress a wound. Sometimes help the wounded on field. Back when they were a child, when the superhero was merely termed hero or saviour, because they were the first of a long line of many. Back when they were terribly young to do such selfless things, to protect the city from such horrible horrors. But they'd been quick and meticulous then, and had only grown better. The suturing was painless and barely felt.

"I don't think you don't want me dead," the villain said.

"I wouldn't waste my supplies on you if I did," the superhero said playfully. The villain's mind caught on to the use of my supplies as though it meant anything. Stored that in a stupid special place. Like a smitten thing.

"My," they said, tried to put a cheeky smile to the words, "you make me feel so special."

The superhero paused behind them chuckled, then resumed with their work.

A beat of peaceful silence passed.

"You shouldn't be out here," they said eventually. They pushed overgrown hair away from the villain's neck, exposing scarred skin there. "Out on your own like this. People haven't completely forgotten, you know."

"That I was cast out? I'd like it if they never do. They'd question the agency's competency that way."

"Darling," the superhero said, "you think they don't?"

The villain blushed pink. "I think they don't question it enough."

The superhero chuckled. "They always have. No matter how hard we try, there's always going to be people who won't trust us completely." They bandaged the villain's arm and moved away. That was the last of the villain's wounds, and they turned to look at the superhero.

"That's it," they said once they realised the superhero was looking for any wound they might have missed. They picked up their shirt and moved to put it on, but it made their sutured wounds stretch and they halted to a stop and hissed. The superhero took it from their hands and helped them put it on instead, and as they helped, their knuckles brushed the villain's chest.

A blush spread through the villain's face, and they looked away and fixed their shirt. They mumbled a shy thanks.

The superhero put their arms steadily on their shoulders as they helped them up. They pressed a bottle into their palm. "Medicine," they said. "Apply it to the wounds on your back twice a day, all right?"

The villain nodded. The superhero brushed a finger delicately to their wrapped bicep. "If this gets too bloody, redress it."

"I can take care of myself," the villain said playfully.

The superhero smiled. "I worry."

The villain smiled back, getting a soft feeling in their chest. They didn't try to move back.

The superhero's thumbs rubbed circles into the chorded muscles of their shoulder.

"You should be careful," the superhero said eventually. Too good for this world. "That stunt you pulled at the mayor's conferance was too overboard."

The villain frowned. They stepped out of the superhero's grip, then. "Too overboard? You heard the proposals. Or do you favour cheaper water systems over the city's health like those greedy politicians?"

The superhero winced. "That's not what I meant."

"Then?"

The superhero closed their eyes and sighed a little pained sigh, and it made the villain regret the animosity. They hadn't always been like that, jumping to accusations. But ever since the agency had cast them out over what they'd found, well...a different environment warranted a different attitude.

"I'm sorry."

"I meant...what you said. I know you think there's only a conspiracy that one of the city's heroes has become a villain, but..."

"I know the rumours were high when I first showed up," the villain said. "I know what I said. I told you. I want them doubting the agency's competency."

The superhero sighed again. "I know, darling, I know. But...I don't want you getting hurt."

The villain began to form a reply, but the superhero gave them a look like whatever they were going to say, the superhero would know it was a lie. I can take a couple punches. I wasn't actually hurt so bad. This fight wasn't the worst fight till date.

They sighed. "I'll expect better retaliation next time."

"I won't always be there to look after you," the superhero said. They took the villain's chin in their thumb and index finger. "You're our brightest star. You know that, right?"

The villain flushed hard, then, heart fluttering. But their chest also lit up with confidence, with hope.

"I know," they said.

The superhero smiled. "Good," they said. Then, they did something unexpected: they pulled the villain in and kissed their brow.

It was more tender than what the villain had expected. Inwardly they feared the superhero liked them the wrong way, but then they pulled away and looked into the villain's eyes and the look felt a little too intense to keep up. They giggled and pulled away and shyly squeezed the superhero's hand.

"See you," they said.

"See you," the superhero said fondly.

The villain ran rooftop to rooftop, climbed down a couple balconies and pressed their forehead to the wall of a dark alleyway, glowing ball of light in their chest and all.

They'd take the agency down with any other bright stars they could gather one day.

[doctorslippery]

Doing this, I would get sued because I would be Professor X. So, I'm using last letter instead…hmmm…

I'm Dark Strike. I'm a 90s-era, big guns and shoulder pads, anti-hero with a dark past, who may one day turn to evil.

[stalkedbytrains]

You’ve been burning documents all night. Shredding leaves something behind, you need to leave only ashes.

You’ve gone through all of your personal finances getting new identities for your henchmen and sending them off to far off remote corners of the world where no one will be looking for them.

Last week you filled your old lair with concrete. Not just sealed up but flooded. There’s no way any living thing could ever get into or out of your lair now. Wall to wall, floor to ceiling, top to bottom. It’s concrete.

Not even your spouse could get in there.

You’ve been breaking into every conceivable government record keeping offices. You’ve grabbed every scrap of paper with anything that could possibly connect you to your other self. It all had to burn.

There’s no telling what your spouse would do if they found out. You only found out by accident.

And now things are rough.

You come to the last thing to really tie you to your other self: your costume.

Your symbol of the life you chose. The life you’ve led for years and years. Before you even met your spouse, in either capacity.

With your costume in your hands it’s like looking into a mirror in some ways.

“Boss,” came a sudden voice, thick and accented.

You weren’t surprised. You felt him coming from blocks away.

“Bob. You’re supposed to be a different hemisphere by now,” you say without looking up.

“I changed my flight,” he said simply. “I wanted to talk to you first. You sure you want to retire? If that is the case then it is fine. Everyone must retire at some time. But if you are doing this because you are… forced into a corner. Then I ask you to reconsider.”

“Bob, Bob, Bob,” you say with a sigh. “This is bigger than me, you, the work. This is something… catastrophic. I can stop it, but only if this part of me is dead, buried, and locked away in an inescapable tomb.”

You can tell Bob is nodding as you speak. You can tell he’s going to speak. You think you know what he is going to say. You were wrong.

“Then as I go I will say something that you said to me many years ago. No other person is worth you destroying yourself for. If they make you change that is abuse plain and simple. If they make it so there is no other option but to destroy yourself to keep them happy, to keep them from destroying everything and everyone you hold dear. That’s still abuse.”

“Bob…”

“I know boss. You need anything you call. We’ll come back for you. I just want you to know that we’re here for you. Ain’t no hero nor villain that can step to us.”

He’s gone and you’re still looking at your costume. It has changed over the years. The decades. You started off with sweatshirts and jeans and balaclavas. You’ve grown and your skills grew and your powers grew with you. Your costume was as much of an evolution of yourself as you are.

Your spouse is powerful. Truly powerful. The kind of power that scares even you.

You’ve been trying to separate them at home and them at work, but as you stare at your costume you realize that to make them separate people is a fallacy. They are the same person. They are one thing at the end of the day. One person, different facets.

You pull out your phone.

“Bob. I’m going to need some support. I’m going to confront my spouse.”

“Do not worry we will be there.”

“We?”

“No one left the city.”

“If we live through this I’m going to have to have a long discussion about what orders you choose to follow.”

(If you liked this I have a kofi)

You are the most dangerous supervillain and have been happily married to the world’s greatest hero for years. You’ve found out your spouse’s secret identity and are desperate to hide the truth from them for life because you fear they may end the world if they found out.

[scarlettearrowrites]

Writing Livestreams Episode 7

Features: Some sketches, Scarlette recounting the story of the man of spoons, spoon theory, Tam almost goes into a fight without a healer, villain development, and deleting weight from every character sheet I fill out.

[vanillathread]

The next chapter to my Hualian Superhero!AU fic has been posted! Please heed the warnings before you read! TW: descriptions of gore, medical malpractice, adultery, and mentions of human trafficking

[pengold]

Goblin Queen and Jean Grey

I am a huge fan of X-men and I am absolutely loving 97, so expect more art from me in the future!

(also possibly a new style what do you guys think?)

[lynati]

I might say the move with the skeleton explicitly to trick Megamind into thinking he'd killed him was a dick move, except for the fact that Metro Man seems to have thought of it as something Megamind wanted to believe he'd accomplished, rather than something that could have been traumatizing to him.

And sure, great power is a great responsibility, but it shouldn't mean that you have to devote your life to nothing BUT being responsible for everyone. "Assigned superhero at birth" is practically as bad as "Assigned villain at birth," if you think about it in terms of not having control of your life, especially while growing up. At least a villain can get away with vanishing off the map after being defeated, if they're tired of playing the role. You can't walk away from being a superhero to just live a life of your own choosing without being thought of being horribly selfish, and treated accordingly.

Tl;DR - It's one thing if you have the autonomy to make the choice to become a hero; it's another thing if you were raised to believe you have no choice in the matter.

the genius of megamind (beyond the obvious genius ofc) is that it's superman parody actually presents a genuinely unsettling depiction of the "hero" that I like wayyy better than "what if superman was evil" or "what if superman was wrong"... it's "what if superman didn't care"

[unnameablethings]

concept:

supervillain × henchman with the twist that the supervillain is a sort of cartoon foppish dramatic gay villain with gonzo schemes and no bodycount. and the henchman is secretly a grimdark ultrapowerful Apex Predator supervilllain who came to Stake Out the competition. got mistaken for a henchman and found this so fucking funny hes just 100% committed to the bit.

hes carrying around boxes of fucking Acme Corporation sticks of dynamite. hes dressing in the matching stylish outfit. hes managing the other henchmen to execute gonzo schemes flawlessly. genuinely the most fun hes ever had in his life

his dumbass gay boss has literally no idea the lengths he is going to behind the scenes to make sure nobody interferes with any of this shit.

(apex supervillain, in his Supervillain Disguise. homoerotically and terrifyingly flirt/threatens flamboyant supervillain. smash cut to this poor man lying face down on a couch unpacking this with the very attentive henchman)

("hes going to eat me maybe????? but GOD that was the HOTTEST fucking thing thats ever happened to me. but i might DIE?? do u think he LIKES me...."

henchman: i think he does :3)

the ruse comes out when someone who the apex supervillain didnt catch comes to ACTUALLY challenge/harm his gay boss in public and apex supervillain is like. yeah no we're not doing this. time for the power of unfathomable violence.

gay supervillain promptly has a FULL MELTDOWN. oh my god the blood. and also. "you LIED TO ME???"

apex supervillain, apologetically: "I was waiting to see if you'd ever figure it out yourself. And the longer it went the funnier it got."

gay supervillain: "I TRUSTED you!! you were my BEST HENCHMAN"

apex supervillain: aw. past tense?

[bet-on-me-13]

The First Supervillain

So! A Typical "Early Start" AU where the events of The Show happen early in the Timeline. Like, in the 70's or 80's.

Danny never quite managed to fix his Public Perception, and even years into his career people still saw him as the Villain.

Coincidentally Valerie was seen as a Hero because of how often they were seen fighting. Even after they revealed their Identities and got together, they still had the occasional Battle. It was their love language.

His role as the Villain was Cemented when Pariah launched his Second Invasion of Earth after some dumbass accidentally freed him, and Danny took the Blame for it. Instead of being seen as the Hero who battled Pariah and stopped the Invasion, he was seen as the Tyrant to launched the Invasion in the first place, with Red Huntess being the one to defeat him in one final Ultimate Battle.

And honestly? He was fine with that. Now that he was the King of the Ghost Zone, he had the Authority to Regulate the Portal so villains stopped getting through. And that meant that he wasn't needed to stop random Ghost Attacks anymore. He could finally focus on College and his own Life, instead of sacrificing everything to act as the Protector of the Human Realm.

Val continued to be a Hero for a few more years, eventually retiring when it became Clear that the new generation of Heroes could pick up the Slack.

He went to College, got a Job as an Aerospace Engineer, and eventually proposed to Valerie.

About 20 years since his initial Accident, and he was doing great! He had moved into a humble home on the edge of town with his loving wife Val, his beautiful daughter Ellie, and his cute dog Cujo.

Yeah, life was good.

Until the day Danny accidently caused a Mass Crisis.

...

Superman was having some extreme trouble in dealing with his current Opponent. He had just been flying around the City, patrolling as Usual, when all of a sudden he had been attacked by a Flying Mech Suit.

At first he had assumed that Lex was giving it another Go, but he quickly realized that was not the case when the Armor seemed to Phase though solid matter in the middle of the battle. Lex had never made Tech advanced enough to do that on the fly.

This opponent was tough too. Strong enough and Durable enough to go blow for blow with him, and seemingly able to pull Advanced Weaponry from out of nowhere whenever he wanted. As tough as it was to admit, Superman as losing the Battle.

Then, without warning, the battle stopped. His opponent was staring at the space just behind him, with a look of pure dread. He turned around, and his heart stopped.

Floating behind him, staring right past him and directly at the Mech Suit, was the First Villain Phantom.

He looked much the same as when he had last been seen, although he was definitely Older. He had snow white hair, and glowing green eyes that seemed to stare right past him and into his very soul. He was wearing what seemed to be a costume of sorts, with an all black suit, white gloves, and white boots. Over his Shoulders sat a Cloak made of Stars, and above his head sat a Crown made of an Icy Blue Fire.

The Mech tried for a greeting, "Er- Hello t-Lord Phantom. How do you d-"

"Skulker."

"Y-yes?"

"What are you doing here? I thought I gave you explicit orders to stay in the Ghost Zone until further notice. You disobeyed me."

"Okay look. I got excited, that's my fault. It's just, I got anxious waiting. Can you really blame me? I've been waiting 20 years to take another Crack at the Human World, what's it matter if I left a few weeks Early?"

"I told you. You were supposed to wait exactly 20 Years, and you left Early. This calls for punishment."

"No wait!"

"Let's see how you feel after a few days as Soup."

The Villain pulled out a Thermos, and in a flash of green light, Skulker was gone, and the King was capping the Thermos. He then turned to Superman.

"I apologize for him, he decided to leave ahead of schedule." The King addressed him. "Now, Kryptonian. Rest and tend to your wounds, you will need to be in your best health if you want to continue saving the lives of those people below us."

With a dramatic flare, the King reached up and Tore a hole in Space. Through the Hole, Superman could only see an infinite Green Void, with the sound of screams cheering being heard through the rift.

The King departed through the Tear in Spacetime, and it closed behind him.

Superman tried to collect himself, and activated his League Emergency Comms.

"Attention All Founding Members, and Justice League Dark Members. This is Superman calling for an immediate Emergency Meeting."

He took a deep breath.

"Phantom is Back."

[wiingdings]

cat people

[defectivehero]

Villian (hero's lover) locks up injured hero until they get better, hero was injured many times before and would always convince villian that they were fine, this was the last straw.

i am allergic to explicit romance (or romance at all), so i'm skipping over that part haha

"Well, isn't this fun," the villain remarks, raising their brows as they study the hero's form. They've been waiting for the hero to arrive. After all, the villain's misdeeds are never ignored for very long. And the villain has enough experience to know exactly how to unsettle and unnerve the hero—how to get them running over in five minutes; how to summon them without so much as a single word or action. They are the puppet master and the hero is their faithful mannequin, bending to their every whim.

Yet the hero has been running about with loose strings recently. Surely that is the only explanation for their current state: as they stand unsteadily, blood spattered across their clothes and bruises and scrapes nearly everywhere. It looks like they're favoring their left ankle over their right and there's a dazed glaze in their eyes, as if they're fighting off fatigue. "Just what makes you think you can take me on in such a state?" The villain asks lightly.

"Shut up," the hero hisses. They take a step forward—evidently intending to fight them—only to fall to the ground in a crumpled heap. The villain chokes on a laugh; after a few seconds, they walk over and look down at their enemy, clicking their tongue.

"This is embarrassing," the villain remarks. They lightly kick at the hero's side and the hero groans, flipping to lie on their back. The hero squints up at them as the sunlight evidently burns bright spots in their vision.

"Just... leave," the hero bites out. It's clear that their pride is wounded, if they're admitting that they can't fight. If the villain were a kinder person, they would leave the hero be. But they have never been kind, so they laugh instead.

"I don't think so," the villain says, regarding the hero with mild interest. "You were the one to seek me out, remember?" Indeed, the villain got here first, and the hero arrived shortly after. The villain stares down at the hero's form for a long moment, a plan quickly taking shape in their mind.

"What are you plotting?" The hero asks, breaking them out of their thoughts. The villain must've had a smirk on their face. They raise a brow and the smirk returns. Something in their expression must betray their intentions, because the hero immediately tries to back away on their elbows. "Don't touch me," the hero spits.

"Sure," the villain remarks easily, ignoring their request and instead bending down and picking the hero up into their arms. They're sure their rival wants to resist, but they're evidently much too injured to do so. Regardless, the hero looks positively murderous. The villain takes a deep breath and closes their eyes, until the familiar feeling of darkness encompasses them and they visualize their intended destination: their laboratory. Within moments, the villain is standing in the center of their lab with the hero.

"What the fuck are you doing-?" The hero spits, blinking rapidly as they recover from the quick teleportation. A person who is teleported against their will can experience dizziness, blurred vision, headaches... The list goes on. The villain supposes these side effects only further aid their current plans, making the hero pliant in their arms.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" The villain asks quizzically, walking mechanically towards the glass enclosure near the edge of the room. They feel an amused smile growing on their lips. "Taking a walk in the park? Honestly." The motion sensors activate and the door to the enclosure slides open. The villain walks to the corner of the space and unceremoniously drops the hero onto the ground. Their enemy groans at the

The hero is hardly able to move—they will not be able to escape. The villain watches as that realization crashes down on them, as they're forced to accept their sudden captivity.

"I don't understand-" They mumble, looking around the space with a sort of dazed confusion.

"You really do talk too much." The villain murmurs regretfully.

"I-" The hero sputters. It seems they've never been told that before. That is really a shame—they need more honest friends, the villain thinks to themself. "This isn't- I could die in here!" They stare up at them with panic.

The villain pointedly looks at the adjacent wall and the hero turns their head to the side. Their reaction is incredibly amusing—so much so that the villain wishes they had the foresight to record it, so that they could watch it over and over again. The hero regards the water machine with a truly nasty glare, as if the machine did something to personally offend them.

"You're joking," the hero seethes. "What is this, a fucking hamster cage? You're missing an exercise wheel." They scoff, looking around the rest of their new cage. "...And food."

"You know humans can survive for three weeks without food," the villain remarks helpfully. "And I've always wanted to test that theory..." They smile, clasping their hands excitedly.

"Seriously?" the hero hisses incredulously. "I'm not a fucking guinea pig for you to experiment on."

"You aren't?" The villain asks, slipping on a mask of genuine confusion. "Then why did you come when I called?" The hero stares at them in irritated disbelief. The villain hums in satisfaction. The hero's anger and confusion gives them immense joy. "Maybe now you'll learn to take better care of yourself," they murmur patronizingly, crouching down and placing a hand on the hero's cheek.

"Don't touch me," the hero repeats like a mantra. The villain isn't sure if that remark is meant for them or the hero themself. They don't think it quite matters.

"This is your own fault, you know," the villain whispers, standing back up. The accusation sinks heavily into the air and the hero must know it to be true, if the way the light in their eyes briefly flickers and dims. "if you hadn't come to me in such a state, this wouldn't have happened."

The hero looks to be considering their next words thoughtfully. It's clear they want to beg or plea, but they must know that their efforts will be to no avail. The villain has never bowed down to the hero's desires, and they don't plan to start now.

Evidently discouraged, the hero switches tactics. Their composure promptly shatters, as it is instead replaced with raw, unbridled fury. It's clear that they've come to one inevitable conclusion: they will be trapped here until the villain wishes to release them (if the villain wishes to release them). "You can't do this to me!" The hero screams, their eyes wide and their voice unsteady.

"I believe I just did," the villain says with a slight smile. They take a step backwards. "See you in a few days. Try not to die. Or do—just don't make a mess of it." They walk out the door and it slides shut behind them, leaving the hero caged in walls of glass. The villain sits down at their desk and busies themself with their newest blueprints. Their enemy's agitated screams and desperate shouts are a pleasant hum in the back of their mind as the villain resumes their work.

©2024, @defectivehero | @defectivevillain, All Rights Reserved. Reblogs are greatly appreciated—just don't steal or share outside of Tumblr, please.

me typing: "raw unbridled furry." me: wait. fury. i meant fury.

tag list: @lateuplight @wit-is-wisdom @greengableswriting @whump-me-all-night-long @noawhite @rekhyt-of-arcadia @the-blind-one-speaks @sufferfictionalcharacters @basically-psyduck @alexkolax @subval01 @emerald-blade @felicia609 @surplus-of-sarcasm @ilickedanenvelopeandilikedit @a-chaotic-gremlin @unknownogre @prompt-fills-and-writing-spills @whatwhumpcomments @excusemeasibangmyheadonawall @agayprince @starsick1979 @a-lonely-little-ghost @agayprince @plum-tello

click here if you’d like to be on/off the tag list!

[mirohtron]

They'd met, before.

"It's all right, tiger." The superhero's attention was half-not on them as he spoke, flying down to ground a safe distance away from the burning building.

The civilian doubted the superhero remembered. They hoped that he didn't. Prayed. Buried their face into his shoulder just so that he wouldn't get a good look at their face. They hadn't used powers, had they? They didn't think they had. Superpowered people had greater strength, could hold their breath for longer, were more durable to fire and smoke, of course, but that wouldn't have been so noticeable, surely?

Just to stay safe, the civilian coughed a few times. They didn't know how regular human bodies reacted to inhaling so much smoke. They hoped they were doing it right.

The superhero gently set them on the ground. "Keep these people safe, yeah?" he said, jutting his chin to the people behind the two of them—and the crowd was mostly made up of the people the civilian had ushered out. The civilian looked down and nodded their head.

The superhero shot back up to the skies.

The civilian took to rounding everyone up, counting heads, inspecting for injuries. It was—it was odd, to do. Something so good, at the behest of one who told you off once upon a time for trying to do more. But surely the superhero didn't remember. Seventeen years was so long ago. Besides, the civilian understood now. Why they were told to not try to be better. Not be a superhero. You couldn't be a good person, as a superhero. It was impossible to not indulge in hedonism. To not lose yourself along the way. Goodness was like sand.

More people were getting dropped off by the superhero. Ambulances came. The civilian was fine, obviously, and didn't need help. Their breathing was fine. No burns on their arms, just ash. They helped paramedics. They soothed their neighbours. They prayed every evidence of their evil scheming that they'd brought back from their lair was burned in the fire. It wasn't much, but it was incriminating.

It didn't take much time for press to arrive. They ignored the civilian, at first. A couple interviewers came—small ones, who knew they wouldn't be able to talk over huge, charismatic journalists with years of experience—to ask questions. The civilian didn't want to give them their name. Or face. They pushed a camera away and tried moving away, but they caught a lady from the crowd coming straight for them.

"Here we have," she began, and shoved a mic in front of their face, "the brave civilian who took on the position of leader for the group of survivors of this burning tragedy. Civilian, how many people did you count injured?"

"I, uhm," the civilian began, and then another reporter shoved a mic in front of their face.

"What caused this fire?" he asked.

The civilian caught the lady rolling her eyes at him. "How long did it take for the superhero to arrive?" she asked. "Were there any casualties?"

The civilian tried putting on their most sheepish smile. "I'd really not like to answer any questions right now—"

"Did the superhero rescue you? Or did you run out of the building on your own?"

A camera flashed. Then another, and there was a brief moment of silence before the clicking of shutters was all that they could hear, and they were blinded by light. The superhero was right. They wouldn't survive heroism, with camera flashes burning their eyes out every other day. And if he didn't know their face before, he'd surely know now, with all the pictures that were being taken.

The civilian stepped back.

Like vultures, the reporters and camerapeople stepped closer. Crowded them. Shoved mics in their face. They couldn't see a single thing.

A big, strong, gloved hand rested on their shoulder. The civilian flinched and tensed up like stone. Between flashes, they caught smitten, blushing faces or story-hungry, predatory expressions from reporters wanting to stir up drama.

"Hey, everyone," said the superhero, over the civilian's shoulder, in a media-friendly, jovial tone and with a camera-ready smile that they could hear in their voice. He put a chummy arm around their shoulder and the civilian tried not to act put out. "I hope I'm not late. Wouldn't want to leave this poor thing to fend for themselves, ha! Am I right?" He stepped back and dragged the civilian with him, giving them a squeeze. "If you want to hide, just get behind me."

Aha. Right. When the civilian could totally just run right now. They very much wanted to, now that they'd gotten the opening and the reporters swarmed the superhero. They faked a laugh and half-hid behind the superhero.

"Superhero, superhero!"

"Yes?"

"What would you like to say to the brave civilian behind you? Eyewitnesses claim they were seen ushering out many people out of the burning building."

The civilian choked. Who the fuck told on them? They quickly searched for really good alleyways to disappear into.

"Ah—well, uhm." The civilian said stupidly. "Just trying to help! With, uhm, being raised with a good righteous role model like the superhero, instinct just overrode to save all those people." God, why did they say anything? They could feel their pallor.

"Oh, you look quite unwell. Did the fire cause several injuries?"

"Yes—yes! I might've, uhm, just inhaled too much smoke. God! Haha." The civilian coughed very weakly. "I should probably get to the hospital, y'know. Couldn't." That was a lie. They'd been checked on before the reporters arrived.

"Right, right." The superhero pat them on the back. "You should sit down. There's plenty of medical experts here."

The civilian did not look at him. They turned around and walked to an ambulance and sat there and watched the superhero walk to a spot further away, the reporters following like ducklings. The distance made it easier for them to breathe. A few officers answered questions here and there to reporters who had realised they wouldn't get an answer from the superhero.

Nobody bothered the civilian—there had been a couple reporters that came to them and the superhero politely and loudly requested that they 'keep off of the tired civilian'. They still caught the superhero eyeing them from time to time—did they recognise them? That scrawny little kid trying to be just like him, with a homemade suit and powers that they couldn't quite yet control? The civilian was half convinced they did. It made them want to shake out of their skin or maybe die. If the superhero recognised them, they'd probably be fucked. Royally. Their powers weren't so common.

The superhero glanced at them again. The civilian tapped their foot on the floor.

The superhero looked again. The civilian looked back this time, and tried to look a little ticked off. They didn't think they did that very well. They couldn't take it, though—they didn't like people. They didn't like the superhero, either. But they couldn't really leave. That would make them more suspicious.

So they waited.

Time passed.

People left as soon as the superhero snapped his head to a distant crime only he could hear and shot up to the skies.

They ached to go inside, to check if their things had burnt to a crisp completely. But they didn't want anything crumbling on top of them. Who would save them, then? Not the superhero. Not any hero. They were just there for the glory and the fame.

And yet...they stayed there helplessly, looking at their burnt apartment. Cold morning blue was beginning to seep into the horizon by now, stretching to touch the soft, grey-white edges of the moon. The smoke had left dusty residue on their cheeks and hair and singed clothes. They walked up to a wall on the building and kicked it experimentally. They didn’t hear any crack.

A soft whoosh came from behind them. Their hair swayed with the breeze.

The civilian whipped around.

The superhero stood in front of them and the villain's heart dropped in fear instantly.

"Hi," said the superhero. It wasn't... it wasn't threatening, no. But the civilian felt just a little faint. They tripped on their own feet in an attempt to step back and the superhero’s hands shot out to steady them by their arms. Ungloved.

The civilian swallowed. They tried to look calm but they weren’t sure if it was working. They weren’t sure if they were supposed to not look calm. They had no idea how to act. Maybe harmless. They tried looking like that. Small and harmless and unassuming.

"Hi," they said back.

The superhero looked them over. "All right? You look pale."

"I'm fine. Just peachy."

"Sure?"

Shakily, the civilian drew in a breath. They coughed weakly. "Just—I just inhaled some smoke. But it's fine."

"That's great." The superhero tilted his head. "I was just so worried. You seemed really scared, cowering into my chest and all. That must've been to protect your eyes, huh?"

"My—what?"

They were offered a smile. Camera-ready. "Your eyes. Smoke can irritate your eyes, unless you're a super. That makes you more resistant. To smoke. And irritation. And wheezy breathing."

Oh. Oh, they didn't know that. Their breath hitched. The villain didn't know what to do, then. Run? No, the superhero could catch up easily.

They pulled ash-matted strands of hair away from their cheeks, looking down. They coughed, weakly, and it was a bad attempt because the superhero chuckled.

"You've grown," the superhero said. They sounded half-fond. "I almost didn't recognise you."

"Oh." The villain felt dizzy again. So they hadn't been busted. No, of course not. They never took their mask off. When they'd come to the superhero, scrawny and hopeful, they'd taken their mask off. They still remembered the way the grimace on the superhero's face. "Yeah. Yeah. Puberty."

The superhero searched in his pocket and took out their old mask from seventeen years ago, badly burned but still retaining its colour. He held it out. "You kept it for so long," he said. "It's a little singed, but..."

Some naïve, hopeful part of the villain fluttered warmly at the gesture, and they smothered that feeling immediately. The superhero wasn't an exception. But they had to accept. They loved that mask. They'd made the entire suit on their own, with their saved allowances and abandoned spray paint cans they'd found underneath bridges and behind dumpsters in alleyways. "Thanks."

The superhero gave them another smile. He reached out, deliberately slow so that he wouldn't spook the villain. They didn't flinch.

He scrubbed ash from their cheek with his thumb. "Don't take your mask off next time," he said.

The villain reeled back.

The superhero gave a wince. It was more theatrical. "Too obvious?" he asked, and of course he wasn't expecting an answer, but the villain still spluttered. Their shoulders rose with heaving breaths. They held their mask close to their chest.

The superhero smiled. It was not friendly. It said, I will get you.

He left before the villain could answer.

The villain clutched their mask close, and then threw it to the ground.

[text-ink-png]

The hero looked around the alley and startled as they saw two amber eyes staring right back at them. They cautiously backed away, hoping that the villain would at least give them a chance to explain.

"I've been waiting." The low rumble of the villain's voice brought goosebumps on the hero's arms. They were truly in trouble. The villain's usual jovial mood and happy demeanor were nowhere to be seen.

Oh no, they were truly in trouble.

"Look, I-" The hero fumbled, wringing their fingers nervously. "I know I messed up. It was just too nerve-wracking. Going against my mentor...I tried but honestly the pressure caught up to me. I was thinking that I was all alone but I was still trying, but then the media showed up which meant it was live and everyone was-"

"How is your leg?"

"Huh?" The hero stopped blabbering and looked at villain's face. The villain's face did not give away any signs of anger but it almost seemed...worried? No, the shadows from the street lights must be messing up villain's face.

"Your leg. I watched the broadcast and you took a terrible fall. Let me look at it."

The hero hurriedly stepped back as the villain reached for their leg. Was this some other kind of punishment for messing up? The hero had often heard rumors of the villain's brutal methods. Was this one of the tortures?

"Hero" The Hero stilled, shaking in fear as the Villain stood in front of them, daring them to take another step. They flinched as the villain bent down to observe their leg. They felt a warm hand rest on their knee. Oh lord, were they going to snap their knee?

The hero relaxed as they felt warmth seep into their leg from villain's palm. Right, they had heard about villain's ability to heal. The warmth seemed to be pressing a comforting hand to their back as if beckoning them to take rest.

The hero felt their body hit the ground but felt no pain. No, they felt as if they were in heaven, floating through clouds while angels sang in their ears.

One such angel looked down at them and shook their head. They ruffled hero's hair and whispered, "What am I supposed to do with you?" The angel was truly beautiful.

Oh, the hero must be in some kind of trouble.

[stalkedbytrains]

The live broadcast feed was cut instantly. The delay should have been more than enough to keep her identity a secret.

Look, if it's good enough for live events and evil entities like the FCC, then a live broadcast delay is good enough for you. Besides, if all the heroes think that it is live then they're always a few seconds behind.

You look at this girl. This child.

You put the mask back on her.

"What are you doing?" she demands as she still struggles against her bonds.

"You and me. We're done. We've been fighting for three years now, and if I had any indication that you were an actual child I would have stopped it then and there," you say. "When I release you understand that if you try to fight me, I will simply delay you forever. You'll never touch me and I'll never fight you."

"Just because I'm a child?" the hero demands.

"YES!" you scream. "You're a child! You're put into a battle that you can't possibly understand fighting for a system that you can't participate it or vote on because you are a child."

You take a deep breath and adjust your suit.

"We're done. Your secret is safe. I won't tell anyone."

"Why?"

"Child. That's why. I can't stop you from doing your silly hero nonsense, but if you ever need food, shelter, someone to listen to you for whatever reason, an education, whatever you need, come find me."

The poor teen struggled against her restraints. But you designed them to stop someone as strong as you so there was no way she was getting out of them.

"I'll leave and then let you out. Don't want you doing something foolish like trying to fight me again. I'll leave you with Leslie, she's my chef. She'll make you whatever you want, as much as you want. I'd take advantage if I were you."

The hero just glared at you.

"And again, you ever need anything, you come let me know."

"What about when I turn 18? Can I still beat the shit out of you?"

"Depending on how much therapy you get and how much of being a child soldier has been undone, we'll see. Now. I should be going."

"Wait! Why are you doing this? Seriously. No other villains would give a shit."

"I do give a shit. And I want you to look up an old hero, from long before you were born. Don't just be lazy and look up them in the hero registry because that's nothing but propaganda. Do real research. See what you can find out about Force Sentinel."

You turn and leave. Once you're a decent distance away you remotely undo the teen's restraints.

A long time ago, in a different life, you studied math. It was really the only thing you were good at. Possibly some hilarious side effect of your powers. At times like these the graph of exponents you had seen in an old text book always came back to you.

Your powers are exponential. You do any task repeatedly and it grows in strength exponentially. Astronomically. It was very very hard to do anything the same way twice much less multiple times, but you got very good at it.

You also had to be very very careful, because you punch three times and hit a hero you're doing north of 25,000,000 pounds of force. Or almost 3 billion newtons.

That kind of impact force would make a person cease to exist.

But some people deserve it.

Child soldiers.

After everything they did to you. After everything you took from them because of it.

They sent homeless children after you.

Three punches will be enough to level the entire Hero Complex.

Better make it five just to be sure.

The city’s heroine was unmasked, only to be revealed it was a homeless 17 years old girl under it.

[machetelanding]