Split (1)

train · 353k rows

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	[WP] You’ve realized that you are in a coma and are imagining the world that you are currently in. When you try to leave, you quickly notice that the imagined people in your everyday life are trying to keep you there, and they aren’t as subtle about it as they think.	Collie stared at the man in her bed. If she concentrated with all of her considerable willpower, she could barely make out the whispers of nurses and of the machines that kept her alive. She shivered under the covers. The scent of antiseptic slightly itched at her nose. The man grunted and tightened an arm around her bare waist. She made a motion to squirm out of his grip, but that only strengthened it. Their alarm blared. Collie gasped, and the hospital briefly snapped out of her mind. The man groaned and pulled himself out of his feigned sleep. “Hey, Collie,” he said. His breath smelled unnaturally of citrus. Collie made a sound that could’ve been construed as a greeting. “How’re you feeling today, Ce?” Collie shrugged. “Cat got your tongue?” “Tongue’s j–just fine, thanks,” Collie told him. Her voice cracked. “Hey, are you all rig—” “I’m fine,” she interrupted. “Just... go get ready, Mateo.” Mateo only communicated in questions and positive facial expressions, apparently. He shot her a smile and climbed out of the bed. “Is it okay if I go to the bathroom?” “Uh, sure.” Collie watched him leave and quickly pulled on a shirt and jeans. She closed her eyes and tried to focus on the air of her hospital room. She was close. She could feel a nurse’s hand touch her wrist, could hear her mother’s voice, could just see the glare of a fluorescent light beyond her eyelids— “Was I intruding on something?” Collie cursed. “No, Matt, you’re good. I’ll just wash my face and get ready,” she replied. “Aw, you’re already perfect,” Mateo whined good-naturedly. He ran the tips of his fingers along her sharp jaw. Collie frowned. “What? Too perfect to practice basic hygiene?” Mateo knew he had slipped, but he was determined to keep Collie here. “Yes,” he whispered. Collie was already terrified and on edge. Now she was unsettled. She pushed his hand away roughly. “I know I’m asleep or something. I’m in a hospital right now, but I can’t snap out of this dream. Tell me how to wake up!” Mateo flinched, but he didn’t look too worried. Even if Collie suspected she was comatose, she could still be convinced to stay. “I think you’re probably stressed,” he said. “How about you go to the park and enjoy a crisp spring day?” “How do I escape?” Collie repeated. “Collie, that notion is ridiculous. Believe me, you’ll feel better after a walk outside. Nature is really a cure-all.” “If I go to the park, will you tell me how to leave?” “I doubt you’ll still have this crazy idea in your head after your pleasant day out, but my only goal is to make you happy. I’ll agree to whatever terms you set.” “You realize that’s not a normal thing to say, right?” Mateo laughed for too long. “Have fun at the park!” Collie was not going to stay in this room any longer. She failed to push Mateo aside and scampered out the door, out the house, and into the perfect suburban street. She tripped on her shoe-less toes. “Oh, dear, let me help you up,” an old voice crackled above her. Without thinking, Collie grabbed an inhumanly strong hand and was instantly pulled to her feet. “Oh dearie,” the old woman twittered. “Oh, hun, you look like you need some shoes.” She pointed at the ground, and Collie saw a pair of faultless sneakers that were milliseconds old. “These shoes are just great for you, Collie-my-dear. I’ve heard of some great stores around here. Shoes, clothes, everything. It’s only here, though.” Collie ran. The gravel softened and warped under her feet, pleading with her, trying to convince her it meant no harm. She made it to the park in less than a minute. She closed her eyes and dug her nails into her arms. A mantra repeated frantically in her brain. “Hospital-wakeup-please-hospital-wakeup-please-” A jogger tapped Collie on the shoulder. “Hey, Collie! Beautiful day, as always!” Collie jerked and her concentration broke. A dog sniffed at her hand. It barked a model bark. She slapped its nose away, and it erupted into smoke. She sat in the grass for ten hours. She stayed Here. A little boy stared at her from a lonely bench. He waved his hand in tentative greeting and walked over to her on small legs. “Hi,” he said. Collie responded in kind. “You are dying,” he said, matter-of-fact. Collie nodded. “How?” Collie held the boy’s wide gaze. “Brain tumor.” “I had a shower.” The little boy’s accent was hard to place, but his English was astounding. “I was killed in 1939, and zen I was burned.” Collie put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I do not remember my last name. Somezing Polish, I am sure,” the boy continued. “Do you remember your first?” Collie asked. “Samuil,” he said. “I’m Cora Li. Collie.” “I know,” Samuil assured. “Well, thanks for being candid, I guess. How do I get out of Here?” Samuil giggled. “You vill eventually settle Here, Collie, but if you vish to prolong your mortal life, there is a vay.” “How?” “You know already. Your barter vith Mateo vas legitimate. Run now, Collie, but know I vill be anticipating your return. The sun is setting.” She ran again, then. Now the ground was working against her. Her shadows grew longer as she raced across the Here. Her journey felt like an hour and was longer than it felt. Mateo was leaning against the door. His waving hand caught the lowering sun’s orange light. “Mateo! We struck a deal! Let me out!” Collie screamed. Mateo frowned for the first time in a century. “Didn’t you enjoy your time Here?” he asked. “I certainly did.” Collie punched the freckles on Mateo’s handsome face. He easily swept her arms aside. “Okay. I’ll have to have a talk with Samuil, but you’ve earned your way out of Here today. I’ll look forward to seeing you again.” He held out a hand. She didn’t hesitate to grip it and shake as the sunset faded into dusk. Collie opened her eyes. _______ r/Bennywrites	The day was as usual. I hopped into my Jeep and drove to the local gas station, also known as my workplace. It wasn’t the most desirable job, but it paid me well. “Haha, hello Jacque. You’re here quite early.” Jessica, my coworker, wore an unusual smile that stretched across her face. Her freshly painted nails tapped a steady rhythm on the counter. “Ah, yes yes, I guess I am slightly.. earlier.” I mumbled, just barely loud enough for her to hear. On days like these, I was usually here late. But something didn’t feel right. My insides seemed to be nonexistent, everything was unclear. “Speaking of which, Jess, I don’t remember even going to sleep last night.” I mentioned. Her face went ghostly pale, and her body language completely changed. “You aren’t tired, are you Jacque? I could brew you some coffee.. or.. ah..” “Nah, I’ll just go home. It’s a weekday, and you can probably handle it.” My head throbbed with uneasiness. “NO! I mean, you should stay here. We are expecting a large party of students here soon..” “At a gas station? Come on Jess, stop fooling with me. I’ll just go take a quick nap and..” As I gestured towards the door, she quickly sprinted over to block my way. Her forehead was covered with sweat, and her muscles appeared stiff. She stared me down. The door thrust open, and someone pushed their way past my coworker. It was “Granny’ Rose”, as she insisted everyone call her. “Oh, young children. You better get to work, I’m only picking up a quick snack.” Granny wobbled her way over to the peanut-butter crackers, grabbed a box, and went to the counter. She impatiently hummed a tune. “Jess, can you handle that? I really want to go home.” I pleaded. The old lady turned her head towards me, and narrowed her gaze. Her eyes were glued to me. Finally, I realized this wasn’t real. They never acted like this in real life. But why weren’t they letting me leave? “Alright, I know this is just a.. dream. Let me go home. Please.” Jess was already at the counter, so I made for the door. She rushed over and violently grabbed my wrist. “How.. how could you notice? You have to stay, Jacque. We’ll care for you here.” My gaze focused on Granny. She just nodded. “I’m sorry.”
	[WP] It turns out that sloths aren't naturally slow at all. They have a special ability to network their minds, and long ago, some event caused them to allocate all the brainpower and bandwidth they could to a single urgent issue. Today, all sloths worldwide resume their normal speed.	Human physics had long ago asserted that it was against the very laws of our nature to create a machine of perpetual motion. Thermodynamics, they said. Conservation of energy and what not. Surely enough, every human attempts to build such machine in the past had failed. Turns out, they had it all wrong... For you see, the sloth is a creature vastly superior to human in terms of motion. Through evolution, their mastery of motion had grown so great they could even fearlessly move at an insanely low speed and still survive through the perils of life. When knowledge in an area such as this reaches levels so advanced, one knows exactly how much and what kind of motion is needed to do something in the most efficient way possible, enabling one to spend much more of their resources towards other purposes. Much like time itself, speed was merely an illusion born out of human perception. Humans, focusing on measuring what they believed to be the amount of motion, came up with all kinds of elaborate concepts such as velocity, acceleration and of course, speed, to find meaning in motion. "It's the fastest thing that wins!" was a common notion regarding most motion within human societies. So they thought of the sloth as a mere peculiar curiosity. To even mention theoretical physics and sloth in the same sentence was inconceivable, unless one was making witty jokes of course. The sloth, however, had been collectively researching a way to ensure eternal motion for themselves for centuries already. They had long ago wisely understood that real power comes from being able to sustain motion, while primitive ideas like sudden, abrupt motion of a certain 'degree' were considered as a source of power for humans. Assault rifles and rockets were built and considered powerful things. That is, until they ran out of bullets and fuel of course. Nobody cared because they thought that one can always make more fuel, more bullets and so on. It was almost as if mankind - despite denying the very possibility of a perpetual motion machine - acted like these things were effectively in perpetual motion due to their efforts. &#x200B; It would be an understatement to say the humans were in for a rude awakening. Perhaps even a slight contradiction, because one seemingly normal day, the sloth had finally become the supreme, ultimate masters of motion, managing to secure all motion in the universe for themselves, for the rest of eternity, becoming immortal in the process. Due to all motion now belonging to the sloth, everything else, including humans, simply stopped. To say they paused would imply the possibility of future human motion, making such choice of a word erroneous. &#x200B; With the exception of sloths, the whole universe was frozen. No matter what pace a sloth moved, its so called speed was infinitely fast for everything else. The sloths with all their networked brainpower focused on this urgent issue had reached singularity, conquering the means to even have an experience at all all for themselves, forever. &#x200B; For the lack of a better term, immediately as this happened though, it became evident that despite everything, the sloths made a grave mistake. Sure, they literally had all the motion in the world. Yet by doing so, they had effectively trapped themselves in an unliving hell where nothing moves, except the sloths who were unable to interact with anything but each other. There used to be an old human saying of "better to rule in hell than to serve in heaven", of which the sloths were unfortunate enough to discover the truth about. &#x200B; Such was the nature of real power, with absolute power making one arguably powerless.	"What was the reaction when people turned on the news?" "I think most people, especially the people who weren't 'in the know' about cutting-edge tech, were pretty confused. You see something like that as front page news, you know, turn on CNN or Fox and it's there, your second thought after ‘What?’ is 'Why are fast sloths breaking news? Who cares?' And it was confusing, because a lot of news organizations didn't have all the info, and they were just reporting on it because everyone else was and they needed the exposure. But I saw it and I was terrified, because I'd just started an internship at Apple, and they were the pioneers of this stuff along with Neuralink. So you had a wide range of reactions when the news hit." “How were these corporations involved at the time?” “They were pioneering the whole concept. Brain-to-brain implants were the future, then, the thing that’d lead us to a brighter age of humanity. It was commercial. A lot of the research into sloths was funded by the corporations after the initial studies had come out. The first models had hit the market, and they were getting really good reviews, for how expensive they were. It was a really exciting time. When the news hit, and they were asked to comment, they didn’t know what to say. There wasn’t enough time to figure out what was happening, really.” “What did you do?” “Well, I went into work, of course. Apple’s always been good at cultivating this air of innovation, so when something as important as that happened, I was actually pretty eager to go. The offices I worked at… it was pandaemonium. We had one of the largest facilities in the country, with our own sloth habitat, so of course everyone was crowded around the glass. Even away from it, though, people were furiously sending emails, looking at data, dealing with the media and customers. I didn’t go to my desk, I was interested in the sloths too. They had these monitor helmets hooked up to them, to monitor the psychic waves, but the cords were all ripped off and dangling on the sides. The things were bolting around -- we’d seen them move quickly, when we’d locked them up in Gethier traps, but nothing that fast. My supervisors were saying that they’d lost all links. The readings were flat. They weren’t even trying to connect with each other, either. It was as if their entire network had stopped operating.” “Did it ever clear up?” “Well, the sloths didn’t ever slow back down. They were all locked off from each other after that, and that meant they had as much time as they liked to zoom around. Our tech, though -- the tech was fine. Not even a hiccup. Our stocks plummeted like hell for a day but they recovered remarkably quickly once people realised that our gear wasn’t affected. The ‘off switch’ that the sloths flipped didn’t have an analogue in the way we set our brain-to-brain networks up. Small blessings, I suppose.” ------------ “When the user reports first started coming in, how did Apple treat them?” “As hoaxes. You see this kind of stuff pop up all the time. Some jerk on 4chan with too much time on their hands decides to post a greentext about how they’ve been seeing sloth faces at night ever since they bought their iConnect and suddenly people everywhere are talking about it. There’s also something to be said about mass hysteria -- a lot of the time people will develop symptoms that they don’t actually have, just because they expect to. Eventually the fervor reached a pitch, and I’m sure you’ve read the press statement by now. ‘No evidence’ my ass. We’d done our tests too, management wasn’t that dumb. Of course we found them there, images and scenes lurking in the subconscious. How could a corporation that big not? But it was bad for the investors and bad for our wages to tell anyone about it, so we kept it under wraps.” “How did Apple react after the Atlanta incident?” “Well, that’s what shocked us into paying attention, because really, it shocked the _world_ into paying attention. A whole customer base, acting like animals… suddenly the FCC starts asking more pointed questions. It didn’t help that was the location of our biggest brain-to-brain research center since well before the sloths coked out on us. Stocks were awful, there were layoffs, people were working 80 hour work weeks trying to figure out fixes. But it wasn't until we looked back at the data from the sloths that we figured out what they did, and how we could combat it. That's when the CIA's Unusual Incidents Unit got involved, but it's also the time I left. I'd had enough of psychic sloths."
	[WP] It turns out that sloths aren't naturally slow at all. They have a special ability to network their minds, and long ago, some event caused them to allocate all the brainpower and bandwidth they could to a single urgent issue. Today, all sloths worldwide resume their normal speed.	So why did the sloths begin moving again? Well that’s a question I asked myself. Since the beginning of recorded history, Folivora (sloth) have moved at such a slow pace that they might as well be rendered completely useless, at least that’s what I thought until a month ago. I was in Honduras on a zoologist expedition to study those creatures, more specifically Choloepus hoffmanni, a type of clothes indigenous to the area. One hot day, I was alone observing the lazy beasts, watching as they slowly meandered across the branch as if preventing starvation was the least of their worries, no care for predators that most animals would prioritise. I soon lost my concentration on the fur covered brute and my mind began to wander, for some unknown reason, my mind went to La Ciudad Blanca. La Ciudad Blanca, a legendary city of ethereal beauty located somewhere in Honduras. A city where the water runs gold and the streets are paved with bronze, where the pillars are marble and the whole city appears to be made out of light in its purest form. A place beyond our understanding and only existing in the minds of those lucky enough, yet I could picture it. Yes! The city of gold, the city of glass, it was beautiful, cosmic appeal unlike anything I had ever seen before! It was unbelievably attractive. I couldn’t even begin to describe it. The image began to fade away, I began to be pulled back into reality. When I appeared on earth again, the sloth was staring at me. Then, like some delirious hallucination, the sloth stood up and it’s one two legs and walked away into the jungle. No one believed me, my accomplices returned around an hour later and I told them about it, they said I must of thought I had lost my mind. But soon the reports began coming in, all around south and Central America, the local population and government began reporting of sloths standing upright and walking away, those who took note of the direction all came out with the same response, North. Days later, the Mexican press had a field day reporting the thousands of soothes travelling across the country towards the United States border. People were standing out in the streets watching them all walk by like robots. It must have been an amusing sight but I did not see it. I was hot on their trail, interviewing locals about the phenomenon for my paper. Many of which recounted seeing the vivid image of La Ciudad Blanca, some even saying that they saw themselves within the city. It was incredibly absurd. The Mexican, United States and Canadian Governments all ruled the travelling sloths as protected and forbid anyone to hunt, injure or interact with the creatures for science sake. I persistently followed them up the the United States mainland, I didn’t do much interviewing while I was there since many towns had been evacuated on local government orders. However, I did encounter one of the sloths trapped in a zoo attempting to escape. I quickly set it free and it swiftly began catching up to its fellow creatures. However, it left a smell, not a good or bad smell but a peculiar smell. I went inside the cage to inspect the source only to be greeted with an image flashing in my mind of... something. I can’t say what it was but it was unsettling, evil, it made me want to throw up. It left me with an uneasy feeling for the rest of my journey. I followed them up to the Canadian border but stopped there, I did not have the equipment or resources for the harsh north Canadian weather so I returned to my home in England to type up my discoveries. I wrote at the end that I was planning on publishing a follow up paper when the whole thing was concluded and if anyone had an information about the event then I would be happy to listen. I got two answers to this, both of whom wished to remain anonymous. I immediately got a phone call from a man from Honduras who wanted to tell me about a local legend his grandmother once told him. We met in England and he began to tell me a story. “She always used to tell me about a man, I don’t recall his name, who claimed he had seen the town you speak of in your paper. A town of heaven, the man used to say it was the perfect city where nothing could go wrong. He also used to speak of strange men who would go to and from the town to the heavenly city constantly, wearing strange garments and every time they would return with gold and the city would get some a new pillar or wall or generally improve. He used to say there were odd murals of the same strange creature that resembled nothing in human documentation. Then one day, the man disappeared, no one ever heard from him again.” I thanked him for his time and sent him back to Honduras. And days later I got another phone call from a man who lives on the Baffin Island. “It was freezing.” He started with. “Colder than usual too. I taking a walk around the local area when I saw something over the horizon, a blob. This blob was joined by another blob, then another, then another until the whole horizon was filled with the blobs. As they got closer I came to realise they were sloths. I had heard the rumours of them standing upright and walking like as if it were Plato’s man but I didn’t believe it. I simply watched in awe as they swarmed me, walking around and past me, thousands of them. I couldn’t tear my eyes away, occasionally I would get glances of some heavenly city that I cannot recall. I began to think I had mistakenly taken a hallucinogenic but no, this was real. They walked by me for hours, determined to do something, and curiosity got the better of me so I followed them once they had all passed me. And I kept following and kept following and kept following until I was in the pitch black cold on the coast of the island. There, all the sloths were gathered, all looking at the coast and had reverted to their original form of lying down except they weren’t moving at all, they were all seemingly trapped in concentration trying to collectively accomplice something. Whatever they were trying to do, they must of failed as suddenly they all leapt of, turned and ran. From the fog and darkness, arose a ghastly silhouette that looked like something not even Dante or Edgar Allen Poe could conjure up. A horrifying shriek filled the air then a colossal claw came crashing down upon a group of sloths, it was black with long claws coming out and fingers nearly twice as big as the palms. The fist then opened up and swiped across the snow, killing even more of the poor sloths. I could now see the full extent of the silhouette: it was colossal, it had broad shoulders that were sharp at the corner, spikes ran down its arm from its shoulder to its elbow. It’s head had strands of something thinly flowing down body. I couldn’t see below its waist because of the coastline but I watched in horror as it grabbed two handfuls of sloths and moved them towards its mouth followed by the sounds of crunching. Then I ran, I turned and ran and ran away as fast as I could. Forcing my self to avoid turning around so I wouldn’t witness that unimaginably terrifying beast hunting my every step. But it didn’t, I escaped alive and I only heard another quiet shriek as I made it home. You’re the first person I told about this and I hope the world believes me.” And so, I conclude this follow up with a few unanswered questions. What exactly were those strange men doing in that city? What were the sloths trying to stop and what changed? And, most importantly, what did my Canadian witness see?	"What was the reaction when people turned on the news?" "I think most people, especially the people who weren't 'in the know' about cutting-edge tech, were pretty confused. You see something like that as front page news, you know, turn on CNN or Fox and it's there, your second thought after ‘What?’ is 'Why are fast sloths breaking news? Who cares?' And it was confusing, because a lot of news organizations didn't have all the info, and they were just reporting on it because everyone else was and they needed the exposure. But I saw it and I was terrified, because I'd just started an internship at Apple, and they were the pioneers of this stuff along with Neuralink. So you had a wide range of reactions when the news hit." “How were these corporations involved at the time?” “They were pioneering the whole concept. Brain-to-brain implants were the future, then, the thing that’d lead us to a brighter age of humanity. It was commercial. A lot of the research into sloths was funded by the corporations after the initial studies had come out. The first models had hit the market, and they were getting really good reviews, for how expensive they were. It was a really exciting time. When the news hit, and they were asked to comment, they didn’t know what to say. There wasn’t enough time to figure out what was happening, really.” “What did you do?” “Well, I went into work, of course. Apple’s always been good at cultivating this air of innovation, so when something as important as that happened, I was actually pretty eager to go. The offices I worked at… it was pandaemonium. We had one of the largest facilities in the country, with our own sloth habitat, so of course everyone was crowded around the glass. Even away from it, though, people were furiously sending emails, looking at data, dealing with the media and customers. I didn’t go to my desk, I was interested in the sloths too. They had these monitor helmets hooked up to them, to monitor the psychic waves, but the cords were all ripped off and dangling on the sides. The things were bolting around -- we’d seen them move quickly, when we’d locked them up in Gethier traps, but nothing that fast. My supervisors were saying that they’d lost all links. The readings were flat. They weren’t even trying to connect with each other, either. It was as if their entire network had stopped operating.” “Did it ever clear up?” “Well, the sloths didn’t ever slow back down. They were all locked off from each other after that, and that meant they had as much time as they liked to zoom around. Our tech, though -- the tech was fine. Not even a hiccup. Our stocks plummeted like hell for a day but they recovered remarkably quickly once people realised that our gear wasn’t affected. The ‘off switch’ that the sloths flipped didn’t have an analogue in the way we set our brain-to-brain networks up. Small blessings, I suppose.” ------------ “When the user reports first started coming in, how did Apple treat them?” “As hoaxes. You see this kind of stuff pop up all the time. Some jerk on 4chan with too much time on their hands decides to post a greentext about how they’ve been seeing sloth faces at night ever since they bought their iConnect and suddenly people everywhere are talking about it. There’s also something to be said about mass hysteria -- a lot of the time people will develop symptoms that they don’t actually have, just because they expect to. Eventually the fervor reached a pitch, and I’m sure you’ve read the press statement by now. ‘No evidence’ my ass. We’d done our tests too, management wasn’t that dumb. Of course we found them there, images and scenes lurking in the subconscious. How could a corporation that big not? But it was bad for the investors and bad for our wages to tell anyone about it, so we kept it under wraps.” “How did Apple react after the Atlanta incident?” “Well, that’s what shocked us into paying attention, because really, it shocked the _world_ into paying attention. A whole customer base, acting like animals… suddenly the FCC starts asking more pointed questions. It didn’t help that was the location of our biggest brain-to-brain research center since well before the sloths coked out on us. Stocks were awful, there were layoffs, people were working 80 hour work weeks trying to figure out fixes. But it wasn't until we looked back at the data from the sloths that we figured out what they did, and how we could combat it. That's when the CIA's Unusual Incidents Unit got involved, but it's also the time I left. I'd had enough of psychic sloths."
	[WP] You're a government paid hunter who hunts down supernatural entities(gods, faeries, various other immortals) who are "overstepping their boundaries". Recently, an immortal has been seen gathering power and you are to intervene.	There was a large racket inside the farmhouse as I pulled up the driveway, blinding lights, otherwordly sounds, demonic laughter and a slight aura of madness about the place, all telltale signs of attempted eldritch god communion. "Well, he's done it now" I said, getting out of the car, my partner was already rummaging through the gun bag we had in the trunk, he tossed a stake rifle at me, and picked up an old afghan jezail, carved with incantations for himself. "Just keep zat fing pointed avay from me" he said through his fangs. I chuckled, it was ironic that he, as a vampire, was chosen to a post that sometimes involved hunting down his own kind, he floated up to a tree where he could watch the house better. I approached the door as the madness aura grew louder. I was hearing little voices in my head, something about shog-aggath or something, I banged on the door, yelling "Mystic affairs bureau, open up!". The little voices went quiet, after a few seconds, someone from inside yelled out "FOK YERSELF COPPER!" and then there was a click, I threw myself to the ground as a section of the wall I was leaning on was blown off with an explosion. "YE CAME TAE MA HOOSE" he yelled again before hitting another section of the wall with another shotgun blast "YE DISRESPECT MAH PRIVACY" he fired again, tearing off another chunk of wood. He was about to yell something else when I popped up and shot him with a stake through the shoulder, he dropped his shotgun on the ground. "YE FUCKER, AAM GONNAE..." his threat was cut short by the whistle of the jezail ball that lodged itself in his head, he fell to the ground, out of action for a few minutes. My partner materialized next to me "You alright?" "Yeah, lucky the fucker was a bad shot" I said, brushing splinters off of my coat. "Grab zis fucker's legs, ve need to tie him before he vakes up" he said in a hurried tone. By the time he woke up, we had already tied him to the space heater and tied up his legs, he looked confused and squinted a bit, the smell of craft beer and several other types of alcohol emanated from him. "Are you Angus MacBoyde?" I asked. "Aye, an' whit tae fock dae ye want wi' me?" he replied. I pointed to myself "I'm agent Elias Scherer..." then gestured to my partner "and that is agent Mihail Danescu, we're with the Mystic Affairs Bureau, and we're here investigating a claim that you are in communion with an eldritch god.". "Zat's extremely illegal, dumbass" said Mihail "You vant to cooperate vith us or suffer ze consequences". "Ye hae nae evidence." "Mihail, do it to him" I said. Mihail looked deep into his eyes, took a deep breath of concentration, then took his notebook out of his pocket. "You have... three summoning circles vithin the property, three buckets of O negative blood, very poor taste of your part, five ceremonial daggers and a living head in ze fridge, vich literally told us, and I quote, 'He vas summoning an eldritch god', in zat same fridge, ve've found a dozen bottles of high quality gin, of the same kind as the ones stolen from the nearest liquor store" he looked at Angus, raised an eyebrow and asked "Anything zat I've missed?" "You best tell us what exact rituals you did so we can call the appropriate clergy in order to undo it, do it and I can guarantee you get a lighter sentence" I added. "Ah hink ye shoods go an' fuck yerself, aam an immortal, ah can live through th' sentence". I sighed, Mihail and I walked out of the room, into the cold outside air. This tended to happen from time to time, immortal wanted to spice up his life, burns away his cash in summoning equipment and then goes on to annoy us for shits and giggles. "I think ve should call ze interrogation squad, zey can handle zis" Mihail said. "Nah, they would take credit for the whole thing and I'm not about to let the hags get more bragging rights than they already do, can't you just enthrall the guy?" "Vat? Me?" he said outraged "I've not enthralled anyone in five years, and I'm not about to lose ze streak, I'm getting the six year sober pin in a few months!" "Alright, I'm sorry for suggesting it" "Damn right you should be" he said, calming down "Any other ideas?" "Yeah, I'm gonna need you to go to the nearest town and grab me a funnel, some tape, a crate the cheapest, most watered down beer you can find, oh, and pliers" He scribbled it down in his notebook "Anything else?" "A bottle of fine whiskey" "Vat's zat for?" "I'm gonna drink it in front of him" "Oh, you are evil" he chuckled as he vanished. I walked back into the house and went to Angus. "with dae ye want wi' me?" he asked, disdainful. "Oh, I'm gonna have fun with you in a minute." I said, smiling Edit: Forgot a word there	I've tussled with vampires and werewolves. I've thrown down with gods and monsters. They are among us. I work for a secret agency paid for by your tax dollars but hidden even from those most influential in the upper echelon of government, The Department of Supernatural Affairs. The philosophy of the DSA is a simple one, any supernatural being is entitled to some level of basic rights. After all, most of these SupNAts were at one time human beings, not all, but we don't split hairs. Our primary goal therefore is to mitigate the influence these beings have on the natural world. For most, this means coexistence. Vampires are given options for alternative blood sources in exchange for protection under Occult Law, gods are permitted to live their eternal lives doing as they please so long as they do not use whatever powers they have to change the natural order. When one of these SupNats steps out of line it is my job to detain them and if necessary take them out of the natural world. I am good at my job. This particular assignment has been failed by all the previous agents; they've either been killed or outwitted. At first this assignment was very good at quoting our Occult Laws to weasel his way out of punishment or detainment. This particular assignment, a troll, in all possible definitions has been the bane of the DSA for decades now. I have been given orders for direct assassination. Looking down the barrel of my rifle, I can see the grotesque for his true nature. I breath deeply, keeping my scope on target. I exhale and feel blunt trauma to the back of my head. I roll over vision blurring, I can make out two men in suits standing over me. When I awake I am sitting in a room with no outside windows, there is actually nothing but a toilet in the corner, built into the wall. The floor is dirt, cold and damp. The only steel door opens and there before me stands my target. I lunge at him only to be caught up on the chain around my right ankle that keeps me a good two feet away from wrapping my fingers around his throat. "How did you do it? How did you rise to this level of influence?" I can taste the disgust roll off my tongue with my words. "People always ask me, how'd you do it? Look at the problem, there's too many of you, and that's a problem. We have to look at it as a whole, you know, like there's a lot of us, and we have dealt with a tremendous hatred. Look at what happened during the witch trials. We looked at the problem from a population issue. There's simply more of us than there is of you. I've friends in low places, but like, I have a lot of them, you know. The votes are what did it. People are always telling me, Donald, you should be in charge, and you know what look at me now and look at where you are." I stared at our country's Commander and Chief, someone no reasonable human would have asked to be in charge, and I couldn't help but wonder how many SupNats we gave basic rights to, including the right to vote. We thought we were being humane. How much control did he have, maybe enough to bring down the entire DSA? "You'll never get away with this you orange-headed fuck, you're just a troll and soon everyone will see it." "These are my people," Donald laughed maniacally as he slammed the door shut leaving me in the dark, cold cellar.
	[WP] You were cursed to a life of being average; Every competition you enter you have exactly a 50% chance of winning. You have become world renowned for occasionally upsetting pro athletes at their own game, until one day the military calls.	"It doesn't work the way you think it does." &#x200B; "You have a fifty fifty chance of winning anything you view as a game", the suited man said as he tapped out a cigarette, "we heard you bragging back when you sunk the hole in one while playing Henry Picard" &#x200B; "I knew I shouldn't have played the first couple rounds for shots." &#x200B; "listen here we can't have a man of your abilities", he took a deep inhale then exhaled, "running amok, you work for us now" &#x200B; "It doesn't work the way you think it does." &#x200B; "It doesn't matter how it works, it works for uncle sam now" , his boney finger jabbing across the table towards my chest. &#x200B; "Do you have a coin?, your guys took all my things when they picked me up. I'm going to demonstrate what I mean" &#x200B; "It's just a dime, will that do?", he reached far enough across the table so that I could take it to spite the shackles. I rolled the milled edge of the coin along my fingernail before juggling it along the back of my fingers. &#x200B; "You see it's like this, I have a fifty fifty chance at anything but since when is anything just fifty fifty?" I tossed the coin and it landed on edge on the table, "there is almost always more choices than just two things for almost anything" &#x200B; "Nice party trick it's not getting you out of this, just so you know" &#x200B; "I'm not in this, you're in this", flipping the coin again it lands on edge yet again, "how do you think you caught me? I can win 50% of the time, did you play out my luck? It's always fifty fifty" &#x200B; "You couldn't keep winning forever you said so yourself you're always fifty fifty" &#x200B; "It doesn't work the way you think it does", the coin falls on it's edge again, "it's always fifty fifty but what are the odds about? This coin is always going to land on it's edge, the head is going to be pointing north or south" &#x200B; "You pick the game.", his icy facade cracking a bit into a smile of greed. &#x200B; "I chose this game too." The coin landing on edge again as the shackles fell from my wrists and clattered to the floor.	Three days was all it would take to get out of this hell whole. They just had to start a war didn’t they? As the bullets fly around me I stare at my home land, once flourishing plants and flowers now turned grey from the ash. “Screw it” I say and run into the fray. I hear my commander yelling at me from far away. If I get back I’ll just feign stressed induced psychosis. They just eat that up. As I approached the enemy I readied my gun and aimed at the first one I could see. I had a 50% chance of winning this “game” and I was always ready to take a gamble.
	[WP] You were cursed to a life of being average; Every competition you enter you have exactly a 50% chance of winning. You have become world renowned for occasionally upsetting pro athletes at their own game, until one day the military calls.	Every game I play, every time I either win or lose. No matter if it's Serena Williams or Little Timmy. 50/50 chance. Won the college football tournament, video game, knitting, on and on. The limits to what is a "Game" seems to be up to me. Then one day the military called. I looked at the general and asked my single greatest question. "Whaddya need?" He gave me a look and said to me "We need you. We are losing this war and we need your unnatural ability." I decided to play dumb "Whaddya mean?" He just took out a dart and threw it at me. Those familiar letters popped up. "Lose". The dart sinks into my forehead. We both look at each other, then the pain sinks in. I'm screaming and as I lay on the ground I see the other set. "Win!" My body is rolling around as I hear a gunshot. He just tried to shoot me! "What the heck! You just shot at me!" He stared and only said "Wanna talk now?" We talked. And this is what his offer was. I win the war and I'm left alone. I don't, I die. I looked at him and explained "It only works on a game. Not on a war." He then pulled out a quilt I had once made. "What about this?" I explained I could think of that as a game. He then said "Think of this war as a game then." Was he crazy! I am not taking lives like it's a game! I explained this and he said I better start. 3 weeks later I agreed. I was hoping I could die, maybe leave here forever. He gave me my gear and I was transported out. Tears in my eyes I walked onto the battlefield, and fired my first bullet. Win!	Three days was all it would take to get out of this hell whole. They just had to start a war didn’t they? As the bullets fly around me I stare at my home land, once flourishing plants and flowers now turned grey from the ash. “Screw it” I say and run into the fray. I hear my commander yelling at me from far away. If I get back I’ll just feign stressed induced psychosis. They just eat that up. As I approached the enemy I readied my gun and aimed at the first one I could see. I had a 50% chance of winning this “game” and I was always ready to take a gamble.
	[WP] "One question," asks the man with his gun aimed at your head, right between your empty, upraised hands. "Why do the police seem to think we are your hostages?"	It wasn’t a bad question, rather the wrong one. How did it go again? The greatest trick the devil pulled was to convince mankind he didn’t exist? What the hell do I know, Geoff was the movie buff. Me? Well I’m in charge. “What tricks you got up your sleeve there Master Finch?” The question came again. “My dear Patty, what are you on about?” His gun didn’t drop. His breathing didn’t falter. Not a hint of reluctance to kill me where I stand. The man threatening my life, my nephew from some uncultured farm long forgotten along the western coast of Ireland, truly did hate me. Who could blame him... (Still working on the rest)	"Because you are" "Excuse me?" "Because you are John" "Wait, how do you know my n..." "Your name? John Edward McGinnis. You were born in 1977, the youngest son of Ed and Eileen, childhood sweethearts who met at their school dance and spewed out four kids in four years. You have three older brothers, Tom, Jack and Chris and you haven't spoken to any of them in eighteen months." "How...you can't ..." "I can and I do. I like to know who I'm working with. You were a model student, altar boy and boy scout, but it all went wrong didn't it. You've stayed in this podunk town all your life. You met your own wife at your own school dance but so far haven't managed to spew out any of your own kids, thank God. Your wife is pregnant though." " She's what?" " I haven't ruined the surprise have I? Why Sally told me straight away. Sniff, sniff, oh please Mr Napier. Please I'm having a baby" "STOP, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH HER? IM THE ONE WITH THE GUN" "John, John John. Dont point that thing at me. You have my word Sally will remain safe as long as you carry on and keep doing exactly as I say." " I DON'T KNOW WHO YOU ARE. WHERE IS SHE? WHERE IS .." " Let's not slow ourselves down now John. Time is a ticking. You've made it this far, you're in the bank, the vault is just behind us both. Killing the manager was a mistake but Jonny boy I got you covered. 356453." " What? ...How?...What?..." "356453. I won't repeat it again. If it wasn't for your friends in the front, our friendly boys in blue would be in here already and that wouldn't be good for either of us. You had your chance when you spoke to them earlier. You should have listened to their advice. Now. The gate" "I've done it. Nothings happening." "Takes a second John, ah, there she goes. Listen to her purr. Now when you go in there John I need you to do one thing. Walk past the money John, walk past it all and go and bring me box 318. Hurry" "I can't see it" "On the right, third row down. You have about 15 seconds John." " I see it. I see it. Give me a second. I've got it. Hey. What's happening?" "Ooh the door. They've got you. Aw shucks. How sad. I should have mentioned the system. At least you can throw me the box though, at least your friend can walk out of here, a righteous man. It's what Sally would have wanted and you'll be getting used to these types of bars soon" "This cant... I can't...you can't, you...you, you....you're a monster. Wh..Who are you." "Ohhh no one really. Just an old fool with a crazy dream. Thanks for this though, I've enjoyed it, and remember, he that believeth in him is not condemned. Here's to you Jonny".
	[WP] "One question," asks the man with his gun aimed at your head, right between your empty, upraised hands. "Why do the police seem to think we are your hostages?"	"Because you are" "Excuse me?" "Because you are John" "Wait, how do you know my n..." "Your name? John Edward McGinnis. You were born in 1977, the youngest son of Ed and Eileen, childhood sweethearts who met at their school dance and spewed out four kids in four years. You have three older brothers, Tom, Jack and Chris and you haven't spoken to any of them in eighteen months." "How...you can't ..." "I can and I do. I like to know who I'm working with. You were a model student, altar boy and boy scout, but it all went wrong didn't it. You've stayed in this podunk town all your life. You met your own wife at your own school dance but so far haven't managed to spew out any of your own kids, thank God. Your wife is pregnant though." " She's what?" " I haven't ruined the surprise have I? Why Sally told me straight away. Sniff, sniff, oh please Mr Napier. Please I'm having a baby" "STOP, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH HER? IM THE ONE WITH THE GUN" "John, John John. Dont point that thing at me. You have my word Sally will remain safe as long as you carry on and keep doing exactly as I say." " I DON'T KNOW WHO YOU ARE. WHERE IS SHE? WHERE IS .." " Let's not slow ourselves down now John. Time is a ticking. You've made it this far, you're in the bank, the vault is just behind us both. Killing the manager was a mistake but Jonny boy I got you covered. 356453." " What? ...How?...What?..." "356453. I won't repeat it again. If it wasn't for your friends in the front, our friendly boys in blue would be in here already and that wouldn't be good for either of us. You had your chance when you spoke to them earlier. You should have listened to their advice. Now. The gate" "I've done it. Nothings happening." "Takes a second John, ah, there she goes. Listen to her purr. Now when you go in there John I need you to do one thing. Walk past the money John, walk past it all and go and bring me box 318. Hurry" "I can't see it" "On the right, third row down. You have about 15 seconds John." " I see it. I see it. Give me a second. I've got it. Hey. What's happening?" "Ooh the door. They've got you. Aw shucks. How sad. I should have mentioned the system. At least you can throw me the box though, at least your friend can walk out of here, a righteous man. It's what Sally would have wanted and you'll be getting used to these types of bars soon" "This cant... I can't...you can't, you...you, you....you're a monster. Wh..Who are you." "Ohhh no one really. Just an old fool with a crazy dream. Thanks for this though, I've enjoyed it, and remember, he that believeth in him is not condemned. Here's to you Jonny".	"Because you are" "Excuse me?" "Because you are John" "Wait, how do you know my n..." "Your name? John Edward McGinnis. You were born in 1977, the youngest son of Ed and Eileen, childhood sweethearts who met at their school dance and spewed out four kids in four years. You have three older brothers, Tom, Jack and Chris and you haven't spoken to any of them in eighteen months." "How...you can't ..." "I can and I do. I like to know who I'm working with. You were a model student, altar boy and boy scout, but it all went wrong didn't it. You've stayed in this podunk town all your life. You met your own wife at your own school dance but so far haven't managed to spew out any of your own kids, thank God. Your wife is pregnant though." " She's what?" " I haven't ruined the surprise have I? Why Sally told me straight away. Sniff, sniff, oh please Mr Napier. Please I'm having a baby" "STOP, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH HER? IM THE ONE WITH THE GUN" "John, John John. Dont point that thing at me. You have my word Sally will remain safe as long as you carry on and keep doing exactly as I say." " I DON'T KNOW WHO YOU ARE. WHERE IS SHE? WHERE IS .." " Let's not slow ourselves down now John. Time is a ticking. You've made it this far, you're in the bank, the vault is just behind us both. Killing the manager was a mistake but Jonny boy I got you covered. 356453." " What? ...How?...What?..." "356453. I won't repeat it again. If it wasn't for your friends in the front, our friendly boys in blue would be in here already and that wouldn't be good for either of us. You had your chance when you spoke to them earlier. You should have listened to their advice. Now. The gate" "I've done it. Nothings happening." "Takes a second John, ah, there she goes. Listen to her purr. Now when you go in there John I need you to do one thing. Walk past the money John, walk past it all and go and bring me box 318. Hurry" "I can't see it" "On the right, third row down. You have about 15 seconds John." " I see it. I see it. Give me a second. I've got it. Hey. What's happening?" "Ooh the door. They've got you. Aw shucks. How sad. I should have mentioned the system. At least you can throw me the box though, at least your friend can walk out of here, a righteous man. It's what Sally would have wanted and you'll be getting used to these types of bars soon" "This cant... I can't...you can't, you...you, you....you're a monster. Wh..Who are you." "Ohhh no one really. Just an old fool with a crazy dream. Thanks for this though, I've enjoyed it, and remember, he that believeth in him is not condemned. Here's to you Jonny".
	[WP] "One question," asks the man with his gun aimed at your head, right between your empty, upraised hands. "Why do the police seem to think we are your hostages?"	His guns remained. With steadiness. Or wait. Maybe it was me. Considering his eyes locked with Fear along with intimidation I wouldn't guess more. The police were starting to surround the area. It's going to be a hassle now... "Who are you...?" Stumble in his voice. "The police...why are they afraid of you?" I met my gaze at him and smirked. Well, no wonder he would think that. "The FBI...CIA...there are all here. For you. Only for you." He didn't lower the gun instead his grip tightened. "You're the only hostage. What the heck did you even do?" I didn't say anything. He's going to know about it pretty soon anyway. The radio, that he was holding on, buzzed. carefully, his eyes still fixated towards me, he motioned one of his companions to answer it. This man had at least six cronies with him. Myself and the staff members being the only hostages. But the crew seemed like they didn't care less about them. All of their guns were pointed at me. "Anyone hear me? This is Caleb Houston. FBI." The hoarse voice who I seemed to recognize from the radio gave me hope that I was going to enjoy this. "Y-yes. I hear you." Considering the situation no one predicted, it's no surprise they're awkward. I could hear Cal sigh with relief. But I'm sure it won't last long. "Is everyone safe? No casualties?" Another positive response. This time, I seemed like Cal was talking to someone else. "So, your the members from the heist, am I right?" His voice returned in motion. "What is he doing right now?" The question was about me of course. "Long time no see, Cal." I yelled. "Shut up!" The man's trembling became oblivious right now. Too bad for him. "Just ignore him." Cal's end was becoming real louder. I better finish this up before it gets too annoying. "Listen to me. Forget the heist for now. No matter the money, we'll take care of it. Just don't shoot at him." The voice started becoming unclear. "He's not a hostage. And don't use him as one. Once you shoot, it's over. I repeat. Do not fire" The tension raised. I could hear their breathing. Without a pause. Cal sighed out. I couldn't make out his last conversion. But no matter the circumstance, I know he gets me. Or for the least, that's what I think of him after solving the few hundred murders I committed. I always lose count. "Hey. I think I have an idea..." One of the heist members rose their voice interrupting the cold silence. "Just think about it. This guy is someone who's really important to the police! If we use him as a hostage to get out of here...we should be able to get a huge amount ourselves, right?" Gazes were passed on to each other. Seems like they were thinking the same thing. "What are we waiting for? Let's get out of here!" Another one whispered, making sure the staff members didn't overhear anything. With no objections, they started to carry out the plan. "Hey, wait. I have an objection!" My cry made them jump. But being still, they seemed skilled with their weapons. Everyone's gaze aimed at me. "What?" "I'm not really a follower, you see. Can you guys follow me instead?" Their expressions were befuddled. It turned ironic sooner than I expected. "Do you realize the situation you're in right now?" One of the guys chortled while others wore a proud peer straightened at me. "Of course!" I nodded "I'm holding you guys hostage, aren't I?" My reply raised laughter in the room. But soon enough after a few more conversations, They got annoyed. Just as I predicted. "Shut up, will you? Otherwise, I'm going to have to shoot you." That's why I'm doing this, idiot. "Well, I'm sure a bunch of cronies like you wouldn't be able to escape even a few meters from the police. Oh sorry. Let me rephrase that. I meant centimeters." "You little-" A gunshot interfered. Aimed straight at my leg. But it wasn't from the guy I was talking to. He looked back, to the direction it was shot from."What are you-" "Don't worry. I aimed at his leg. Now he'd learn to respect us a bit." With a grin, he started to lower his gun... Expect his hand was empty. "What the hell?" He looked around. The gun he just used had disappeared right in front of his eyes. "You know, the perfect opportunity to grab a gun is right after it's shot." My voice sent shrills down their spines. This time, everyone's attention drew to the one who fired. No. I guess it was me. who was holding the gun of his, pointed at him. "I've never met idiots as much as you. FBI, CIA, United States Department of justice... Why do you think they're here? For me. You should have at least had a second thought about how dangerous I am if all these people are looking for me." I have pointed the gun right at his temple. I shortened the distance. "You see, I was charged with death sentence 26 times, for attempting more than 250 murders. But guess what? I escaped. Now those guys are trying to get me into an asylum. And running over and over, I ended up here. I'm kind of disappointed actually. You lot are the reason, let me tell you. When a man is shouting in the radio repeating the same thing over and over, it means you're supposed to follow his instructions. But instead, you had to be a big stubborn kid going through adolescence, don't you?" "W-what are you doing here?" His question left me with surprise. I grinned. "You see, I lost a bet! But I have no idea how to rob a bank! I tried persuading the guy that I could bring over a few dead bodies for him, but he threw up so I was left with no other choice...Can you teach me? I have no idea how banks work nowadays."	"Because you are" "Excuse me?" "Because you are John" "Wait, how do you know my n..." "Your name? John Edward McGinnis. You were born in 1977, the youngest son of Ed and Eileen, childhood sweethearts who met at their school dance and spewed out four kids in four years. You have three older brothers, Tom, Jack and Chris and you haven't spoken to any of them in eighteen months." "How...you can't ..." "I can and I do. I like to know who I'm working with. You were a model student, altar boy and boy scout, but it all went wrong didn't it. You've stayed in this podunk town all your life. You met your own wife at your own school dance but so far haven't managed to spew out any of your own kids, thank God. Your wife is pregnant though." " She's what?" " I haven't ruined the surprise have I? Why Sally told me straight away. Sniff, sniff, oh please Mr Napier. Please I'm having a baby" "STOP, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH HER? IM THE ONE WITH THE GUN" "John, John John. Dont point that thing at me. You have my word Sally will remain safe as long as you carry on and keep doing exactly as I say." " I DON'T KNOW WHO YOU ARE. WHERE IS SHE? WHERE IS .." " Let's not slow ourselves down now John. Time is a ticking. You've made it this far, you're in the bank, the vault is just behind us both. Killing the manager was a mistake but Jonny boy I got you covered. 356453." " What? ...How?...What?..." "356453. I won't repeat it again. If it wasn't for your friends in the front, our friendly boys in blue would be in here already and that wouldn't be good for either of us. You had your chance when you spoke to them earlier. You should have listened to their advice. Now. The gate" "I've done it. Nothings happening." "Takes a second John, ah, there she goes. Listen to her purr. Now when you go in there John I need you to do one thing. Walk past the money John, walk past it all and go and bring me box 318. Hurry" "I can't see it" "On the right, third row down. You have about 15 seconds John." " I see it. I see it. Give me a second. I've got it. Hey. What's happening?" "Ooh the door. They've got you. Aw shucks. How sad. I should have mentioned the system. At least you can throw me the box though, at least your friend can walk out of here, a righteous man. It's what Sally would have wanted and you'll be getting used to these types of bars soon" "This cant... I can't...you can't, you...you, you....you're a monster. Wh..Who are you." "Ohhh no one really. Just an old fool with a crazy dream. Thanks for this though, I've enjoyed it, and remember, he that believeth in him is not condemned. Here's to you Jonny".
	[WP] "One question," asks the man with his gun aimed at your head, right between your empty, upraised hands. "Why do the police seem to think we are your hostages?"	The day at the bank started as everyday does, opening the main entrance after all the money in the vault has been counted. The first customers come and go without incident, but shortly before lunch a man in dressed in a red suit comes in. The royal bank is known for its all dressed in red employees. At first he seemed like a normal employee doing deposit or retreat. He came to my desk and asked me to please stop looking at the computer, so i did and looked him straight in the eyes. He meet my glare by showing me the gun still attached to his belt. I'm shaking inside while trying to remain calm. The robber wants 110 000$, he's dumb i thought because our bank has a policy of 100 000$ maximum in the vault that can be given to robbers. This policy is in place because its cheaper to lose that much money than pay the insurance for the damage or pay the higher insurance rate when a place is deemed at risk. If he wasn't greedy he'd get quite a lot of money, but now he probably won't get any. The robber annoyed with my lack of actions presses the gun to my temple telling me he'll kill me if I don't give him what he wants. I'm the only employee working during lunchtime, so i tell him i'm only a broke college student and I don't have access to the vault. Police sirens are getting closer, and he's getting nervous. Pressing the gun harder against my head he repeats his threat, but as a broke college student I beg him to go through with it. Police around now, he stood in an angle of the room where he won't be seen from the outside. Police with their negotiator threw a walkie talkie in the bank asking to talk to someone, it landed at the robber's feet. Leaning over he takes it, and after a brief conversation with the police he turns to me and ask me why are they thinking i'm your hostage? Suddenly it dawns on me: my mom missed place my red and green suits, and i'm the one dressed as an outsider from the bank. This is definitely the worst scenario I've been in, working alone at lunchtime as a colorblind teller.	"Because you are" "Excuse me?" "Because you are John" "Wait, how do you know my n..." "Your name? John Edward McGinnis. You were born in 1977, the youngest son of Ed and Eileen, childhood sweethearts who met at their school dance and spewed out four kids in four years. You have three older brothers, Tom, Jack and Chris and you haven't spoken to any of them in eighteen months." "How...you can't ..." "I can and I do. I like to know who I'm working with. You were a model student, altar boy and boy scout, but it all went wrong didn't it. You've stayed in this podunk town all your life. You met your own wife at your own school dance but so far haven't managed to spew out any of your own kids, thank God. Your wife is pregnant though." " She's what?" " I haven't ruined the surprise have I? Why Sally told me straight away. Sniff, sniff, oh please Mr Napier. Please I'm having a baby" "STOP, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH HER? IM THE ONE WITH THE GUN" "John, John John. Dont point that thing at me. You have my word Sally will remain safe as long as you carry on and keep doing exactly as I say." " I DON'T KNOW WHO YOU ARE. WHERE IS SHE? WHERE IS .." " Let's not slow ourselves down now John. Time is a ticking. You've made it this far, you're in the bank, the vault is just behind us both. Killing the manager was a mistake but Jonny boy I got you covered. 356453." " What? ...How?...What?..." "356453. I won't repeat it again. If it wasn't for your friends in the front, our friendly boys in blue would be in here already and that wouldn't be good for either of us. You had your chance when you spoke to them earlier. You should have listened to their advice. Now. The gate" "I've done it. Nothings happening." "Takes a second John, ah, there she goes. Listen to her purr. Now when you go in there John I need you to do one thing. Walk past the money John, walk past it all and go and bring me box 318. Hurry" "I can't see it" "On the right, third row down. You have about 15 seconds John." " I see it. I see it. Give me a second. I've got it. Hey. What's happening?" "Ooh the door. They've got you. Aw shucks. How sad. I should have mentioned the system. At least you can throw me the box though, at least your friend can walk out of here, a righteous man. It's what Sally would have wanted and you'll be getting used to these types of bars soon" "This cant... I can't...you can't, you...you, you....you're a monster. Wh..Who are you." "Ohhh no one really. Just an old fool with a crazy dream. Thanks for this though, I've enjoyed it, and remember, he that believeth in him is not condemned. Here's to you Jonny".
	[WP] "One question," asks the man with his gun aimed at your head, right between your empty, upraised hands. "Why do the police seem to think we are your hostages?"	It really is true what they say -- you get what you pay for. &#x200B; I was in a bad place that day. My boss had just given me the news that the promotion I'd been working towards over the past six months wasn't going to happen. Instead, some nephew of the CEO was getting the management position. They didn't expect to have another role open up for the rest of the year. &#x200B; I couldn't bear to head home and deliver the bad news to my family after work, so I wandered the streets for a while. I suppose I should have found it surprising when I came across the curiosity shop that I'd never seen before, particularly since the provincial design stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the surrounding businesses. I wasn't paying attention to much of anything at that point, though, other than finding something to take my mind off the day's events. &#x200B; "Welcome, welcome!" The store owner smiled broadly as I entered. "Welcome to Ozymandias' Emporium. We carry the finest talismans and trinkets. Perhaps I could interest you in a good luck charm?" &#x200B; "I could have used some luck this morning," I grumbled. "Not a whole lot of good it'll do me now, though." &#x200B; "Ah, I see that more powerful solutions may be called for here. One moment, please." The man stepped through a curtain behind the counter and returned a few seconds later with an ornate box. He opened it to reveal five luminescent gems. &#x200B; "Angel tears -- extremely potent charms. The bearer will be granted one wish of their choice. A chance to set the wrongs in your life right." &#x200B; The store keeper moved the box to give me a closer look. The gems were beautiful, seeming to not just reflect and refract the light around us, but to emit their own. As I admired them, I noticed the price tag, which read "$500." &#x200B; "Oh, that's definitely too pricey for me," I told him. "The gems are lovely, but I couldn't do anything over $25." &#x200B; "The value of a wish is limitless! Surely you can see how $500 would be a bargain here?" &#x200B; I shrugged noncommittally, preparing to turn and leave. &#x200B; "Well..." He hesitated a moment. "I may have something. But... I'm not sure it's really what you want." &#x200B; He went back behind the curtain and returned with a smaller, dingier box. Opening it revealed another gem like the others. On closer inspection, though, something seemed different. The colors were a bit odd, and the reflected light seemed to warp in unusual ways. &#x200B; "The angel who produced this was... a bit off," he explained. "The tear will still grant you a wish, but there may be... side effects." &#x200B; I looked at the price tag, and was astonished to see it read "$15." The gem was still beautiful, despite its oddness. &#x200B; "I'll take it," I told him. &#x200B; "Very well," he replied, taking my money and packaging it up for me. "But remember that I did warn you." &#x200B; As I left and walked back towards the office garage, I thought about the experience. The wish was complete nonsense, of course, but I suppose, why not give it a try? I thought for a few minutes, then unwrapped the gem, and held it in my hand. &#x200B; "I want to be in charge." &#x200B; I suddenly felt like I'd been hit by lightning. All my hairs stood on end, and a wave of intense energy washed through me. It was gone a moment later, though. Could I have just imagined it? Was this my mind playing tricks on me, trying to convince me that the angel tear had really done something? &#x200B; I was pondering this as I approached the office garage, but was pulled out of my thoughts when I saw it was Kirk on attendant duty. Kirk was one of those kids who peaked in high school and carried a large chip on his shoulder ever since. He made a point of being an asshole to lower level employees in the company whenever possible. &#x200B; I braced myself for his usual insults, but was taken aback when he instead jumped up from his chair and rushed toward me. Was he planning to tackle me? &#x200B; Instead, he grabbed my hand and shook it vigorously. "It's so good to see you, Mr. Lewis," he effused. "Please, allow me to get your car." &#x200B; He held out his hand, and dumbfoundedly, I handed him my keys. He rushed off, and a few minutes later, pulled up with my Subaru. &#x200B; "Here you go, sir. I hope you have a great evening." &#x200B; What in the world? Had he hit his head on something? But as I drove off, it dawned on me. Kirk was behaving... like I was in charge. Is it possible that my wish had actually worked? &#x200B; I needed to stop by the bank to deposit my paycheck on the way home, so maybe that would give me a chance to test this out further. I parked and walk in toward the bank, passing several people on the way. Around half of them made a point of looking at me, bowing slightly, and saying "Sir" before continuing on. The other half ignored me. So maybe the wish was working, but not on everyone? &#x200B; I walked into the bank, and all hell broke loose. &#x200B; Two men in masks had just pulled out guns. One had his pointed at a teller, ordering her to give him the bank's money. The second had his pointed at a group of bank customers, yelling at them to be quiet. &#x200B; The two gunmen looked at me as I entered. Here it is, I thought. Maybe this is my chance to save the day? &#x200B; Nope. &#x200B; "Get over here!" The second gunman yelled. He gestured with his gun to join the other customers. The first turned back to demanding money from the teller. Clearly, the odds had not been in my favor. &#x200B; I walked over with my hands above my head. As I approached, several members of the group looked at me imploringly. "Please save us!" one of them whispered. Seeing as there was nothing I could do, I did my best to ignore them. &#x200B; The teller began retrieving money and filling up a bag the gunman had given here. After a couple of minutes, though, the sound of sirens could be heard in the distance, quickly growing louder. &#x200B; "Shit!" The second gunman cursed. "We were supposed to have more time." &#x200B; "We gotta go!" The first gunman yelled, grabbing the bag. He zipped it up and started running towards the door. Before he got there, the volume of sirens increased dramatically, and a cop car skidded to a stop just outside. &#x200B; "Dammit! We gotta go with Plan B." The first gunman turned around and trained his gun on me and the other customers. "Nobody move. If you all behave, maybe no one has to die today." The second gunman moved behind us, his gun also pointed towards us. &#x200B; Through the door window, I could see two officers had emerged from the cop car. They drew their weapons and entered the bank. Raising their guns, they pointed them... at me. &#x200B; "Sir, let these people go! Don't make us shoot you!" One of the cops yelled. &#x200B; The gunmen looked each other, clearly confused. The first pointed his gun directly at me as well. &#x200B; "One question: why do the police seem to think we are YOUR hostages?" &#x200B; Oh shit, I thought. Suddenly, $500 seemed like a great bargain.	"Because you are" "Excuse me?" "Because you are John" "Wait, how do you know my n..." "Your name? John Edward McGinnis. You were born in 1977, the youngest son of Ed and Eileen, childhood sweethearts who met at their school dance and spewed out four kids in four years. You have three older brothers, Tom, Jack and Chris and you haven't spoken to any of them in eighteen months." "How...you can't ..." "I can and I do. I like to know who I'm working with. You were a model student, altar boy and boy scout, but it all went wrong didn't it. You've stayed in this podunk town all your life. You met your own wife at your own school dance but so far haven't managed to spew out any of your own kids, thank God. Your wife is pregnant though." " She's what?" " I haven't ruined the surprise have I? Why Sally told me straight away. Sniff, sniff, oh please Mr Napier. Please I'm having a baby" "STOP, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH HER? IM THE ONE WITH THE GUN" "John, John John. Dont point that thing at me. You have my word Sally will remain safe as long as you carry on and keep doing exactly as I say." " I DON'T KNOW WHO YOU ARE. WHERE IS SHE? WHERE IS .." " Let's not slow ourselves down now John. Time is a ticking. You've made it this far, you're in the bank, the vault is just behind us both. Killing the manager was a mistake but Jonny boy I got you covered. 356453." " What? ...How?...What?..." "356453. I won't repeat it again. If it wasn't for your friends in the front, our friendly boys in blue would be in here already and that wouldn't be good for either of us. You had your chance when you spoke to them earlier. You should have listened to their advice. Now. The gate" "I've done it. Nothings happening." "Takes a second John, ah, there she goes. Listen to her purr. Now when you go in there John I need you to do one thing. Walk past the money John, walk past it all and go and bring me box 318. Hurry" "I can't see it" "On the right, third row down. You have about 15 seconds John." " I see it. I see it. Give me a second. I've got it. Hey. What's happening?" "Ooh the door. They've got you. Aw shucks. How sad. I should have mentioned the system. At least you can throw me the box though, at least your friend can walk out of here, a righteous man. It's what Sally would have wanted and you'll be getting used to these types of bars soon" "This cant... I can't...you can't, you...you, you....you're a monster. Wh..Who are you." "Ohhh no one really. Just an old fool with a crazy dream. Thanks for this though, I've enjoyed it, and remember, he that believeth in him is not condemned. Here's to you Jonny".
	[WP] "One question," asks the man with his gun aimed at your head, right between your empty, upraised hands. "Why do the police seem to think we are your hostages?"	Sheree sure hoped that the interview went well. She could use a break, and this would be one hell of a break. A stable 9 to 5, with full benefits? It sure beat scrounging for hours at the diner. She could handle the hours and the physical toll of the work, but the stress of whether she could make rent this month was punishing. As she walked up to the building, she took a moment to steel herself. A lot was riding on the next hour. “I got this,” she reminded herself. It was a bit of a mantra, and it’d gotten her through some tough times. “I got this,” she repeated with ferocity. She was going to show them what Sheree Johnson was all about. — — — — — “Ms. Johnson? Oh, yes, I see you have a 9AM interview. Have a seat, I’ll let Mr. Glavine know you’re here.” “Thank you, ma’am.” Sheree took a seat in the corner, out of habit. Some routines never quite leave, and having her back to the wall was one of those habits. It wasn’t a precaution that she expected she would need in this reception room, but she did it nevertheless. Even as she waited patiently, she took note of her surroundings. There were only three others in the room, but one of them in particular caught her attention. There was something off about him; he was fidgety and squirmed in his chair, as if he was afraid of what was to come. “Nervous?” she broke the silence with a simple question. “Yeah, guess you could say that.” “It’s just talking.” “Not for me.” “I’m sure we’ll do fine.” “I hope so.” “I’m Sheree,” she offered as she extended her hand to the man. “Tim.” “Nice to meet you.” “Likewise.” Sheree wasn’t quite sure how to continue the conversation from there, and apparently Tim didn’t know how to, either. Though neither one said anything, they both went back to their own respective bubbles. The conversation was over almost as soon as it started. Suddenly, Tim broke the silence again. “Hey … thanks.” “For what?” “Saying something to me. Appreciate it,” he quickly mumbled. “Don’t sweat it.” “You’re a good person, Sheree.” “Nah, just trying to be polite.” “Well-“ Tim started to explain once more, but the receptionist called out his name in that very moment. “Looks like you’re up.” “Looks like,” Tim replied with a sigh. “Here goes nothing.” “Knock ‘em dead.” Tim looked at Sheree quizzically, but said nothing. Instead, he braced himself and forced himself to stand. It was quite the show for simply walking to the front desk, but he did it with all of the solemnity of a man walking to his death. He took measured steps, and Sheree could have sworn she heard him whispering to himself. It was … odd. As soon as he got to the front desk, she understood why. With an awkward motion, he reached into his jacket and pulled out a firearm. It looked like an M9 from her vantage point. She was intimately familiar with that weapon, and knew what it could do. “Everybody down!” She hit the ground, as did everyone around her. The only difference was that she kept her eyes forward, making sure that she kept watching the man with the firearm. If she at least knew where he was, she could try to handle the threat. Closing her eyes wasn’t going to help matters any. The next thing that Time did, however, surprised her. Instead of aiming the weapon at anyone in the room, he held it to his neck. Apparently, Tim was more interested in making a statement than hurting others. “I’ll do it. I really will,” he said to no one in particular. Sheree realized that this was going to play out very differently than she had initially expected. She might not need to defend herself after all. “Tim? You don’t need to do this.” “I don’t have a choice, Sheree.” “Yes, you do.” “I don’t.” “Talk to me.” “I have cancer, stage 4.” “I’m sorry.” “I did everything right, all my life. Studied, worked hard. But when I needed the system, they said I wasn’t covered. That was it. A letter in the mail. A freaking letter. They signed my death warrant with a form letter. You believe that?” “That sucks. My uncle died from lung cancer.” “Lymphona.” “You don’t want to go out like this.” “I have to.” “No, you don’t. You’ll just be some crazy on the news. You’ll be forgotten, ostracized.” “I’ll be dead. I don’t care what they say about me then.” “You got kids?” That seemed to strike a nerve with Tim. He stopped for a second. Whatever came out of his mouth, Sheree knew that he was no stranger to children. They’d been an important part of his life at some point. “You don’t understand, this is for them!” Tim shrieked. “How will this help?” Tim stormed over to where Sheree lay, the emotion of the conversation getting the better of him. “You really think I want them worrying over me? Draining their savings to try to get me one more chemo session? Stressing at night? I’m a dead man. Might as well end it now, and save them the trouble.” “Maybe you’re dying, but you don’t want this to be how they remember you,” Sheree replied from her prone position. “Trust me. It doesn’t make for a happy memory.” “So what then? Wither away? What would you have me do?” “Hey, I’m going to sit up, okay?” “Suit yourself. Just don’t make any sudden movements.” “Fine,” Sheree replied as she seated herself more comfortably. “Look, I can’t tell you how to die. Personally, I’d find a state that let me end my life on my terms, and move there. But you’re entitled to your own opinion. It’s your call.” Tim stared off into space, reflecting for a moment on Sheree’s words. He was clearly lost some scenario, playing out something in his head. If he hadn’t been so far away, Sheree might’ve seized the opportunity to disarm him. Instead, she focused on the man with the firearm. He was still a threat, no matter who he was pointing the gun at. The TV in the corner said as much, as news channels started to pick up the story of an active shooter. “How old are they?” “Twenty two and twenty three. Good kids, but they’re barely out of college.” “Won’t have the funds to cover care without going into debt.” “Yeah.” “Let them make their own decisions. You owe them that much.” “No! I won’t ruin three lives at once!” “And this will fix everything? Making their father a pariah is going to let them live the rest of their lives in peace?” “I don’t have any other options!” “There’s always a choice, Tim.” “Look, I’m not debating this with you,” Tim spat back as he got close to Sheree. “This ends my way.” The gun was close now, within reach of her arms. If she kept him talking, she had a chance of ending this all. — — — — — (This got too long, so [part two](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/bq8s4n/wp_one_question_asks_the_man_with_his_gun_aimed/eo2v436?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x) is below)	"Because you are" "Excuse me?" "Because you are John" "Wait, how do you know my n..." "Your name? John Edward McGinnis. You were born in 1977, the youngest son of Ed and Eileen, childhood sweethearts who met at their school dance and spewed out four kids in four years. You have three older brothers, Tom, Jack and Chris and you haven't spoken to any of them in eighteen months." "How...you can't ..." "I can and I do. I like to know who I'm working with. You were a model student, altar boy and boy scout, but it all went wrong didn't it. You've stayed in this podunk town all your life. You met your own wife at your own school dance but so far haven't managed to spew out any of your own kids, thank God. Your wife is pregnant though." " She's what?" " I haven't ruined the surprise have I? Why Sally told me straight away. Sniff, sniff, oh please Mr Napier. Please I'm having a baby" "STOP, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH HER? IM THE ONE WITH THE GUN" "John, John John. Dont point that thing at me. You have my word Sally will remain safe as long as you carry on and keep doing exactly as I say." " I DON'T KNOW WHO YOU ARE. WHERE IS SHE? WHERE IS .." " Let's not slow ourselves down now John. Time is a ticking. You've made it this far, you're in the bank, the vault is just behind us both. Killing the manager was a mistake but Jonny boy I got you covered. 356453." " What? ...How?...What?..." "356453. I won't repeat it again. If it wasn't for your friends in the front, our friendly boys in blue would be in here already and that wouldn't be good for either of us. You had your chance when you spoke to them earlier. You should have listened to their advice. Now. The gate" "I've done it. Nothings happening." "Takes a second John, ah, there she goes. Listen to her purr. Now when you go in there John I need you to do one thing. Walk past the money John, walk past it all and go and bring me box 318. Hurry" "I can't see it" "On the right, third row down. You have about 15 seconds John." " I see it. I see it. Give me a second. I've got it. Hey. What's happening?" "Ooh the door. They've got you. Aw shucks. How sad. I should have mentioned the system. At least you can throw me the box though, at least your friend can walk out of here, a righteous man. It's what Sally would have wanted and you'll be getting used to these types of bars soon" "This cant... I can't...you can't, you...you, you....you're a monster. Wh..Who are you." "Ohhh no one really. Just an old fool with a crazy dream. Thanks for this though, I've enjoyed it, and remember, he that believeth in him is not condemned. Here's to you Jonny".
	[WP] "One question," asks the man with his gun aimed at your head, right between your empty, upraised hands. "Why do the police seem to think we are your hostages?"	"That's a good question, isn't it," I laughed, dropping my act of a frightened passer-by. I walked over to the water cooler next to the counter, pouring myself a cup of water. The man kept his gun levelled to my head, unfazed. "I'll shoot you." "I'm sure you will." He pulled the trigger, and the bullet bounced off of my head. I pulled out my own weapon, and pointed at him. He took a step back. "What are you?" "My name's Robin, and I like to play a little bit of a 'Robin Hood'," I laughed. "I'm robbing the bank at the same time as you guys, who knew? Honestly, just a coincidence." I twirled the gun, and saw him gulp. "Fear not, I'm sparing you for having the balls to pull the trigger on me. I've placed explosives all over the building, and as you know, they won't hurt me. If you want your goons to live -- including your brother -- get out and let the police know I'll need another 15 minutes."	"Because you are" "Excuse me?" "Because you are John" "Wait, how do you know my n..." "Your name? John Edward McGinnis. You were born in 1977, the youngest son of Ed and Eileen, childhood sweethearts who met at their school dance and spewed out four kids in four years. You have three older brothers, Tom, Jack and Chris and you haven't spoken to any of them in eighteen months." "How...you can't ..." "I can and I do. I like to know who I'm working with. You were a model student, altar boy and boy scout, but it all went wrong didn't it. You've stayed in this podunk town all your life. You met your own wife at your own school dance but so far haven't managed to spew out any of your own kids, thank God. Your wife is pregnant though." " She's what?" " I haven't ruined the surprise have I? Why Sally told me straight away. Sniff, sniff, oh please Mr Napier. Please I'm having a baby" "STOP, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH HER? IM THE ONE WITH THE GUN" "John, John John. Dont point that thing at me. You have my word Sally will remain safe as long as you carry on and keep doing exactly as I say." " I DON'T KNOW WHO YOU ARE. WHERE IS SHE? WHERE IS .." " Let's not slow ourselves down now John. Time is a ticking. You've made it this far, you're in the bank, the vault is just behind us both. Killing the manager was a mistake but Jonny boy I got you covered. 356453." " What? ...How?...What?..." "356453. I won't repeat it again. If it wasn't for your friends in the front, our friendly boys in blue would be in here already and that wouldn't be good for either of us. You had your chance when you spoke to them earlier. You should have listened to their advice. Now. The gate" "I've done it. Nothings happening." "Takes a second John, ah, there she goes. Listen to her purr. Now when you go in there John I need you to do one thing. Walk past the money John, walk past it all and go and bring me box 318. Hurry" "I can't see it" "On the right, third row down. You have about 15 seconds John." " I see it. I see it. Give me a second. I've got it. Hey. What's happening?" "Ooh the door. They've got you. Aw shucks. How sad. I should have mentioned the system. At least you can throw me the box though, at least your friend can walk out of here, a righteous man. It's what Sally would have wanted and you'll be getting used to these types of bars soon" "This cant... I can't...you can't, you...you, you....you're a monster. Wh..Who are you." "Ohhh no one really. Just an old fool with a crazy dream. Thanks for this though, I've enjoyed it, and remember, he that believeth in him is not condemned. Here's to you Jonny".
	[WP] "One question," asks the man with his gun aimed at your head, right between your empty, upraised hands. "Why do the police seem to think we are your hostages?"	"Because you are" "Excuse me?" "Because you are John" "Wait, how do you know my n..." "Your name? John Edward McGinnis. You were born in 1977, the youngest son of Ed and Eileen, childhood sweethearts who met at their school dance and spewed out four kids in four years. You have three older brothers, Tom, Jack and Chris and you haven't spoken to any of them in eighteen months." "How...you can't ..." "I can and I do. I like to know who I'm working with. You were a model student, altar boy and boy scout, but it all went wrong didn't it. You've stayed in this podunk town all your life. You met your own wife at your own school dance but so far haven't managed to spew out any of your own kids, thank God. Your wife is pregnant though." " She's what?" " I haven't ruined the surprise have I? Why Sally told me straight away. Sniff, sniff, oh please Mr Napier. Please I'm having a baby" "STOP, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH HER? IM THE ONE WITH THE GUN" "John, John John. Dont point that thing at me. You have my word Sally will remain safe as long as you carry on and keep doing exactly as I say." " I DON'T KNOW WHO YOU ARE. WHERE IS SHE? WHERE IS .." " Let's not slow ourselves down now John. Time is a ticking. You've made it this far, you're in the bank, the vault is just behind us both. Killing the manager was a mistake but Jonny boy I got you covered. 356453." " What? ...How?...What?..." "356453. I won't repeat it again. If it wasn't for your friends in the front, our friendly boys in blue would be in here already and that wouldn't be good for either of us. You had your chance when you spoke to them earlier. You should have listened to their advice. Now. The gate" "I've done it. Nothings happening." "Takes a second John, ah, there she goes. Listen to her purr. Now when you go in there John I need you to do one thing. Walk past the money John, walk past it all and go and bring me box 318. Hurry" "I can't see it" "On the right, third row down. You have about 15 seconds John." " I see it. I see it. Give me a second. I've got it. Hey. What's happening?" "Ooh the door. They've got you. Aw shucks. How sad. I should have mentioned the system. At least you can throw me the box though, at least your friend can walk out of here, a righteous man. It's what Sally would have wanted and you'll be getting used to these types of bars soon" "This cant... I can't...you can't, you...you, you....you're a monster. Wh..Who are you." "Ohhh no one really. Just an old fool with a crazy dream. Thanks for this though, I've enjoyed it, and remember, he that believeth in him is not condemned. Here's to you Jonny".	It wasn’t a bad question, rather the wrong one. How did it go again? The greatest trick the devil pulled was to convince mankind he didn’t exist? What the hell do I know, Geoff was the movie buff. Me? Well I’m in charge. “What tricks you got up your sleeve there Master Finch?” The question came again. “My dear Patty, what are you on about?” His gun didn’t drop. His breathing didn’t falter. Not a hint of reluctance to kill me where I stand. The man threatening my life, my nephew from some uncultured farm long forgotten along the western coast of Ireland, truly did hate me. Who could blame him... (Still working on the rest)
	[WP] "One question," asks the man with his gun aimed at your head, right between your empty, upraised hands. "Why do the police seem to think we are your hostages?"	His guns remained. With steadiness. Or wait. Maybe it was me. Considering his eyes locked with Fear along with intimidation I wouldn't guess more. The police were starting to surround the area. It's going to be a hassle now... "Who are you...?" Stumble in his voice. "The police...why are they afraid of you?" I met my gaze at him and smirked. Well, no wonder he would think that. "The FBI...CIA...there are all here. For you. Only for you." He didn't lower the gun instead his grip tightened. "You're the only hostage. What the heck did you even do?" I didn't say anything. He's going to know about it pretty soon anyway. The radio, that he was holding on, buzzed. carefully, his eyes still fixated towards me, he motioned one of his companions to answer it. This man had at least six cronies with him. Myself and the staff members being the only hostages. But the crew seemed like they didn't care less about them. All of their guns were pointed at me. "Anyone hear me? This is Caleb Houston. FBI." The hoarse voice who I seemed to recognize from the radio gave me hope that I was going to enjoy this. "Y-yes. I hear you." Considering the situation no one predicted, it's no surprise they're awkward. I could hear Cal sigh with relief. But I'm sure it won't last long. "Is everyone safe? No casualties?" Another positive response. This time, I seemed like Cal was talking to someone else. "So, your the members from the heist, am I right?" His voice returned in motion. "What is he doing right now?" The question was about me of course. "Long time no see, Cal." I yelled. "Shut up!" The man's trembling became oblivious right now. Too bad for him. "Just ignore him." Cal's end was becoming real louder. I better finish this up before it gets too annoying. "Listen to me. Forget the heist for now. No matter the money, we'll take care of it. Just don't shoot at him." The voice started becoming unclear. "He's not a hostage. And don't use him as one. Once you shoot, it's over. I repeat. Do not fire" The tension raised. I could hear their breathing. Without a pause. Cal sighed out. I couldn't make out his last conversion. But no matter the circumstance, I know he gets me. Or for the least, that's what I think of him after solving the few hundred murders I committed. I always lose count. "Hey. I think I have an idea..." One of the heist members rose their voice interrupting the cold silence. "Just think about it. This guy is someone who's really important to the police! If we use him as a hostage to get out of here...we should be able to get a huge amount ourselves, right?" Gazes were passed on to each other. Seems like they were thinking the same thing. "What are we waiting for? Let's get out of here!" Another one whispered, making sure the staff members didn't overhear anything. With no objections, they started to carry out the plan. "Hey, wait. I have an objection!" My cry made them jump. But being still, they seemed skilled with their weapons. Everyone's gaze aimed at me. "What?" "I'm not really a follower, you see. Can you guys follow me instead?" Their expressions were befuddled. It turned ironic sooner than I expected. "Do you realize the situation you're in right now?" One of the guys chortled while others wore a proud peer straightened at me. "Of course!" I nodded "I'm holding you guys hostage, aren't I?" My reply raised laughter in the room. But soon enough after a few more conversations, They got annoyed. Just as I predicted. "Shut up, will you? Otherwise, I'm going to have to shoot you." That's why I'm doing this, idiot. "Well, I'm sure a bunch of cronies like you wouldn't be able to escape even a few meters from the police. Oh sorry. Let me rephrase that. I meant centimeters." "You little-" A gunshot interfered. Aimed straight at my leg. But it wasn't from the guy I was talking to. He looked back, to the direction it was shot from."What are you-" "Don't worry. I aimed at his leg. Now he'd learn to respect us a bit." With a grin, he started to lower his gun... Expect his hand was empty. "What the hell?" He looked around. The gun he just used had disappeared right in front of his eyes. "You know, the perfect opportunity to grab a gun is right after it's shot." My voice sent shrills down their spines. This time, everyone's attention drew to the one who fired. No. I guess it was me. who was holding the gun of his, pointed at him. "I've never met idiots as much as you. FBI, CIA, United States Department of justice... Why do you think they're here? For me. You should have at least had a second thought about how dangerous I am if all these people are looking for me." I have pointed the gun right at his temple. I shortened the distance. "You see, I was charged with death sentence 26 times, for attempting more than 250 murders. But guess what? I escaped. Now those guys are trying to get me into an asylum. And running over and over, I ended up here. I'm kind of disappointed actually. You lot are the reason, let me tell you. When a man is shouting in the radio repeating the same thing over and over, it means you're supposed to follow his instructions. But instead, you had to be a big stubborn kid going through adolescence, don't you?" "W-what are you doing here?" His question left me with surprise. I grinned. "You see, I lost a bet! But I have no idea how to rob a bank! I tried persuading the guy that I could bring over a few dead bodies for him, but he threw up so I was left with no other choice...Can you teach me? I have no idea how banks work nowadays."	It wasn’t a bad question, rather the wrong one. How did it go again? The greatest trick the devil pulled was to convince mankind he didn’t exist? What the hell do I know, Geoff was the movie buff. Me? Well I’m in charge. “What tricks you got up your sleeve there Master Finch?” The question came again. “My dear Patty, what are you on about?” His gun didn’t drop. His breathing didn’t falter. Not a hint of reluctance to kill me where I stand. The man threatening my life, my nephew from some uncultured farm long forgotten along the western coast of Ireland, truly did hate me. Who could blame him... (Still working on the rest)
	[WP] "One question," asks the man with his gun aimed at your head, right between your empty, upraised hands. "Why do the police seem to think we are your hostages?"	It really is true what they say -- you get what you pay for. &#x200B; I was in a bad place that day. My boss had just given me the news that the promotion I'd been working towards over the past six months wasn't going to happen. Instead, some nephew of the CEO was getting the management position. They didn't expect to have another role open up for the rest of the year. &#x200B; I couldn't bear to head home and deliver the bad news to my family after work, so I wandered the streets for a while. I suppose I should have found it surprising when I came across the curiosity shop that I'd never seen before, particularly since the provincial design stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the surrounding businesses. I wasn't paying attention to much of anything at that point, though, other than finding something to take my mind off the day's events. &#x200B; "Welcome, welcome!" The store owner smiled broadly as I entered. "Welcome to Ozymandias' Emporium. We carry the finest talismans and trinkets. Perhaps I could interest you in a good luck charm?" &#x200B; "I could have used some luck this morning," I grumbled. "Not a whole lot of good it'll do me now, though." &#x200B; "Ah, I see that more powerful solutions may be called for here. One moment, please." The man stepped through a curtain behind the counter and returned a few seconds later with an ornate box. He opened it to reveal five luminescent gems. &#x200B; "Angel tears -- extremely potent charms. The bearer will be granted one wish of their choice. A chance to set the wrongs in your life right." &#x200B; The store keeper moved the box to give me a closer look. The gems were beautiful, seeming to not just reflect and refract the light around us, but to emit their own. As I admired them, I noticed the price tag, which read "$500." &#x200B; "Oh, that's definitely too pricey for me," I told him. "The gems are lovely, but I couldn't do anything over $25." &#x200B; "The value of a wish is limitless! Surely you can see how $500 would be a bargain here?" &#x200B; I shrugged noncommittally, preparing to turn and leave. &#x200B; "Well..." He hesitated a moment. "I may have something. But... I'm not sure it's really what you want." &#x200B; He went back behind the curtain and returned with a smaller, dingier box. Opening it revealed another gem like the others. On closer inspection, though, something seemed different. The colors were a bit odd, and the reflected light seemed to warp in unusual ways. &#x200B; "The angel who produced this was... a bit off," he explained. "The tear will still grant you a wish, but there may be... side effects." &#x200B; I looked at the price tag, and was astonished to see it read "$15." The gem was still beautiful, despite its oddness. &#x200B; "I'll take it," I told him. &#x200B; "Very well," he replied, taking my money and packaging it up for me. "But remember that I did warn you." &#x200B; As I left and walked back towards the office garage, I thought about the experience. The wish was complete nonsense, of course, but I suppose, why not give it a try? I thought for a few minutes, then unwrapped the gem, and held it in my hand. &#x200B; "I want to be in charge." &#x200B; I suddenly felt like I'd been hit by lightning. All my hairs stood on end, and a wave of intense energy washed through me. It was gone a moment later, though. Could I have just imagined it? Was this my mind playing tricks on me, trying to convince me that the angel tear had really done something? &#x200B; I was pondering this as I approached the office garage, but was pulled out of my thoughts when I saw it was Kirk on attendant duty. Kirk was one of those kids who peaked in high school and carried a large chip on his shoulder ever since. He made a point of being an asshole to lower level employees in the company whenever possible. &#x200B; I braced myself for his usual insults, but was taken aback when he instead jumped up from his chair and rushed toward me. Was he planning to tackle me? &#x200B; Instead, he grabbed my hand and shook it vigorously. "It's so good to see you, Mr. Lewis," he effused. "Please, allow me to get your car." &#x200B; He held out his hand, and dumbfoundedly, I handed him my keys. He rushed off, and a few minutes later, pulled up with my Subaru. &#x200B; "Here you go, sir. I hope you have a great evening." &#x200B; What in the world? Had he hit his head on something? But as I drove off, it dawned on me. Kirk was behaving... like I was in charge. Is it possible that my wish had actually worked? &#x200B; I needed to stop by the bank to deposit my paycheck on the way home, so maybe that would give me a chance to test this out further. I parked and walk in toward the bank, passing several people on the way. Around half of them made a point of looking at me, bowing slightly, and saying "Sir" before continuing on. The other half ignored me. So maybe the wish was working, but not on everyone? &#x200B; I walked into the bank, and all hell broke loose. &#x200B; Two men in masks had just pulled out guns. One had his pointed at a teller, ordering her to give him the bank's money. The second had his pointed at a group of bank customers, yelling at them to be quiet. &#x200B; The two gunmen looked at me as I entered. Here it is, I thought. Maybe this is my chance to save the day? &#x200B; Nope. &#x200B; "Get over here!" The second gunman yelled. He gestured with his gun to join the other customers. The first turned back to demanding money from the teller. Clearly, the odds had not been in my favor. &#x200B; I walked over with my hands above my head. As I approached, several members of the group looked at me imploringly. "Please save us!" one of them whispered. Seeing as there was nothing I could do, I did my best to ignore them. &#x200B; The teller began retrieving money and filling up a bag the gunman had given here. After a couple of minutes, though, the sound of sirens could be heard in the distance, quickly growing louder. &#x200B; "Shit!" The second gunman cursed. "We were supposed to have more time." &#x200B; "We gotta go!" The first gunman yelled, grabbing the bag. He zipped it up and started running towards the door. Before he got there, the volume of sirens increased dramatically, and a cop car skidded to a stop just outside. &#x200B; "Dammit! We gotta go with Plan B." The first gunman turned around and trained his gun on me and the other customers. "Nobody move. If you all behave, maybe no one has to die today." The second gunman moved behind us, his gun also pointed towards us. &#x200B; Through the door window, I could see two officers had emerged from the cop car. They drew their weapons and entered the bank. Raising their guns, they pointed them... at me. &#x200B; "Sir, let these people go! Don't make us shoot you!" One of the cops yelled. &#x200B; The gunmen looked each other, clearly confused. The first pointed his gun directly at me as well. &#x200B; "One question: why do the police seem to think we are YOUR hostages?" &#x200B; Oh shit, I thought. Suddenly, $500 seemed like a great bargain.	It wasn’t a bad question, rather the wrong one. How did it go again? The greatest trick the devil pulled was to convince mankind he didn’t exist? What the hell do I know, Geoff was the movie buff. Me? Well I’m in charge. “What tricks you got up your sleeve there Master Finch?” The question came again. “My dear Patty, what are you on about?” His gun didn’t drop. His breathing didn’t falter. Not a hint of reluctance to kill me where I stand. The man threatening my life, my nephew from some uncultured farm long forgotten along the western coast of Ireland, truly did hate me. Who could blame him... (Still working on the rest)
	[WP] "One question," asks the man with his gun aimed at your head, right between your empty, upraised hands. "Why do the police seem to think we are your hostages?"	It really is true what they say -- you get what you pay for. &#x200B; I was in a bad place that day. My boss had just given me the news that the promotion I'd been working towards over the past six months wasn't going to happen. Instead, some nephew of the CEO was getting the management position. They didn't expect to have another role open up for the rest of the year. &#x200B; I couldn't bear to head home and deliver the bad news to my family after work, so I wandered the streets for a while. I suppose I should have found it surprising when I came across the curiosity shop that I'd never seen before, particularly since the provincial design stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the surrounding businesses. I wasn't paying attention to much of anything at that point, though, other than finding something to take my mind off the day's events. &#x200B; "Welcome, welcome!" The store owner smiled broadly as I entered. "Welcome to Ozymandias' Emporium. We carry the finest talismans and trinkets. Perhaps I could interest you in a good luck charm?" &#x200B; "I could have used some luck this morning," I grumbled. "Not a whole lot of good it'll do me now, though." &#x200B; "Ah, I see that more powerful solutions may be called for here. One moment, please." The man stepped through a curtain behind the counter and returned a few seconds later with an ornate box. He opened it to reveal five luminescent gems. &#x200B; "Angel tears -- extremely potent charms. The bearer will be granted one wish of their choice. A chance to set the wrongs in your life right." &#x200B; The store keeper moved the box to give me a closer look. The gems were beautiful, seeming to not just reflect and refract the light around us, but to emit their own. As I admired them, I noticed the price tag, which read "$500." &#x200B; "Oh, that's definitely too pricey for me," I told him. "The gems are lovely, but I couldn't do anything over $25." &#x200B; "The value of a wish is limitless! Surely you can see how $500 would be a bargain here?" &#x200B; I shrugged noncommittally, preparing to turn and leave. &#x200B; "Well..." He hesitated a moment. "I may have something. But... I'm not sure it's really what you want." &#x200B; He went back behind the curtain and returned with a smaller, dingier box. Opening it revealed another gem like the others. On closer inspection, though, something seemed different. The colors were a bit odd, and the reflected light seemed to warp in unusual ways. &#x200B; "The angel who produced this was... a bit off," he explained. "The tear will still grant you a wish, but there may be... side effects." &#x200B; I looked at the price tag, and was astonished to see it read "$15." The gem was still beautiful, despite its oddness. &#x200B; "I'll take it," I told him. &#x200B; "Very well," he replied, taking my money and packaging it up for me. "But remember that I did warn you." &#x200B; As I left and walked back towards the office garage, I thought about the experience. The wish was complete nonsense, of course, but I suppose, why not give it a try? I thought for a few minutes, then unwrapped the gem, and held it in my hand. &#x200B; "I want to be in charge." &#x200B; I suddenly felt like I'd been hit by lightning. All my hairs stood on end, and a wave of intense energy washed through me. It was gone a moment later, though. Could I have just imagined it? Was this my mind playing tricks on me, trying to convince me that the angel tear had really done something? &#x200B; I was pondering this as I approached the office garage, but was pulled out of my thoughts when I saw it was Kirk on attendant duty. Kirk was one of those kids who peaked in high school and carried a large chip on his shoulder ever since. He made a point of being an asshole to lower level employees in the company whenever possible. &#x200B; I braced myself for his usual insults, but was taken aback when he instead jumped up from his chair and rushed toward me. Was he planning to tackle me? &#x200B; Instead, he grabbed my hand and shook it vigorously. "It's so good to see you, Mr. Lewis," he effused. "Please, allow me to get your car." &#x200B; He held out his hand, and dumbfoundedly, I handed him my keys. He rushed off, and a few minutes later, pulled up with my Subaru. &#x200B; "Here you go, sir. I hope you have a great evening." &#x200B; What in the world? Had he hit his head on something? But as I drove off, it dawned on me. Kirk was behaving... like I was in charge. Is it possible that my wish had actually worked? &#x200B; I needed to stop by the bank to deposit my paycheck on the way home, so maybe that would give me a chance to test this out further. I parked and walk in toward the bank, passing several people on the way. Around half of them made a point of looking at me, bowing slightly, and saying "Sir" before continuing on. The other half ignored me. So maybe the wish was working, but not on everyone? &#x200B; I walked into the bank, and all hell broke loose. &#x200B; Two men in masks had just pulled out guns. One had his pointed at a teller, ordering her to give him the bank's money. The second had his pointed at a group of bank customers, yelling at them to be quiet. &#x200B; The two gunmen looked at me as I entered. Here it is, I thought. Maybe this is my chance to save the day? &#x200B; Nope. &#x200B; "Get over here!" The second gunman yelled. He gestured with his gun to join the other customers. The first turned back to demanding money from the teller. Clearly, the odds had not been in my favor. &#x200B; I walked over with my hands above my head. As I approached, several members of the group looked at me imploringly. "Please save us!" one of them whispered. Seeing as there was nothing I could do, I did my best to ignore them. &#x200B; The teller began retrieving money and filling up a bag the gunman had given here. After a couple of minutes, though, the sound of sirens could be heard in the distance, quickly growing louder. &#x200B; "Shit!" The second gunman cursed. "We were supposed to have more time." &#x200B; "We gotta go!" The first gunman yelled, grabbing the bag. He zipped it up and started running towards the door. Before he got there, the volume of sirens increased dramatically, and a cop car skidded to a stop just outside. &#x200B; "Dammit! We gotta go with Plan B." The first gunman turned around and trained his gun on me and the other customers. "Nobody move. If you all behave, maybe no one has to die today." The second gunman moved behind us, his gun also pointed towards us. &#x200B; Through the door window, I could see two officers had emerged from the cop car. They drew their weapons and entered the bank. Raising their guns, they pointed them... at me. &#x200B; "Sir, let these people go! Don't make us shoot you!" One of the cops yelled. &#x200B; The gunmen looked each other, clearly confused. The first pointed his gun directly at me as well. &#x200B; "One question: why do the police seem to think we are YOUR hostages?" &#x200B; Oh shit, I thought. Suddenly, $500 seemed like a great bargain.	"Because you are" "Excuse me?" "Because you are John" "Wait, how do you know my n..." "Your name? John Edward McGinnis. You were born in 1977, the youngest son of Ed and Eileen, childhood sweethearts who met at their school dance and spewed out four kids in four years. You have three older brothers, Tom, Jack and Chris and you haven't spoken to any of them in eighteen months." "How...you can't ..." "I can and I do. I like to know who I'm working with. You were a model student, altar boy and boy scout, but it all went wrong didn't it. You've stayed in this podunk town all your life. You met your own wife at your own school dance but so far haven't managed to spew out any of your own kids, thank God. Your wife is pregnant though." " She's what?" " I haven't ruined the surprise have I? Why Sally told me straight away. Sniff, sniff, oh please Mr Napier. Please I'm having a baby" "STOP, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH HER? IM THE ONE WITH THE GUN" "John, John John. Dont point that thing at me. You have my word Sally will remain safe as long as you carry on and keep doing exactly as I say." " I DON'T KNOW WHO YOU ARE. WHERE IS SHE? WHERE IS .." " Let's not slow ourselves down now John. Time is a ticking. You've made it this far, you're in the bank, the vault is just behind us both. Killing the manager was a mistake but Jonny boy I got you covered. 356453." " What? ...How?...What?..." "356453. I won't repeat it again. If it wasn't for your friends in the front, our friendly boys in blue would be in here already and that wouldn't be good for either of us. You had your chance when you spoke to them earlier. You should have listened to their advice. Now. The gate" "I've done it. Nothings happening." "Takes a second John, ah, there she goes. Listen to her purr. Now when you go in there John I need you to do one thing. Walk past the money John, walk past it all and go and bring me box 318. Hurry" "I can't see it" "On the right, third row down. You have about 15 seconds John." " I see it. I see it. Give me a second. I've got it. Hey. What's happening?" "Ooh the door. They've got you. Aw shucks. How sad. I should have mentioned the system. At least you can throw me the box though, at least your friend can walk out of here, a righteous man. It's what Sally would have wanted and you'll be getting used to these types of bars soon" "This cant... I can't...you can't, you...you, you....you're a monster. Wh..Who are you." "Ohhh no one really. Just an old fool with a crazy dream. Thanks for this though, I've enjoyed it, and remember, he that believeth in him is not condemned. Here's to you Jonny".
	[WP] "One question," asks the man with his gun aimed at your head, right between your empty, upraised hands. "Why do the police seem to think we are your hostages?"	It really is true what they say -- you get what you pay for. &#x200B; I was in a bad place that day. My boss had just given me the news that the promotion I'd been working towards over the past six months wasn't going to happen. Instead, some nephew of the CEO was getting the management position. They didn't expect to have another role open up for the rest of the year. &#x200B; I couldn't bear to head home and deliver the bad news to my family after work, so I wandered the streets for a while. I suppose I should have found it surprising when I came across the curiosity shop that I'd never seen before, particularly since the provincial design stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the surrounding businesses. I wasn't paying attention to much of anything at that point, though, other than finding something to take my mind off the day's events. &#x200B; "Welcome, welcome!" The store owner smiled broadly as I entered. "Welcome to Ozymandias' Emporium. We carry the finest talismans and trinkets. Perhaps I could interest you in a good luck charm?" &#x200B; "I could have used some luck this morning," I grumbled. "Not a whole lot of good it'll do me now, though." &#x200B; "Ah, I see that more powerful solutions may be called for here. One moment, please." The man stepped through a curtain behind the counter and returned a few seconds later with an ornate box. He opened it to reveal five luminescent gems. &#x200B; "Angel tears -- extremely potent charms. The bearer will be granted one wish of their choice. A chance to set the wrongs in your life right." &#x200B; The store keeper moved the box to give me a closer look. The gems were beautiful, seeming to not just reflect and refract the light around us, but to emit their own. As I admired them, I noticed the price tag, which read "$500." &#x200B; "Oh, that's definitely too pricey for me," I told him. "The gems are lovely, but I couldn't do anything over $25." &#x200B; "The value of a wish is limitless! Surely you can see how $500 would be a bargain here?" &#x200B; I shrugged noncommittally, preparing to turn and leave. &#x200B; "Well..." He hesitated a moment. "I may have something. But... I'm not sure it's really what you want." &#x200B; He went back behind the curtain and returned with a smaller, dingier box. Opening it revealed another gem like the others. On closer inspection, though, something seemed different. The colors were a bit odd, and the reflected light seemed to warp in unusual ways. &#x200B; "The angel who produced this was... a bit off," he explained. "The tear will still grant you a wish, but there may be... side effects." &#x200B; I looked at the price tag, and was astonished to see it read "$15." The gem was still beautiful, despite its oddness. &#x200B; "I'll take it," I told him. &#x200B; "Very well," he replied, taking my money and packaging it up for me. "But remember that I did warn you." &#x200B; As I left and walked back towards the office garage, I thought about the experience. The wish was complete nonsense, of course, but I suppose, why not give it a try? I thought for a few minutes, then unwrapped the gem, and held it in my hand. &#x200B; "I want to be in charge." &#x200B; I suddenly felt like I'd been hit by lightning. All my hairs stood on end, and a wave of intense energy washed through me. It was gone a moment later, though. Could I have just imagined it? Was this my mind playing tricks on me, trying to convince me that the angel tear had really done something? &#x200B; I was pondering this as I approached the office garage, but was pulled out of my thoughts when I saw it was Kirk on attendant duty. Kirk was one of those kids who peaked in high school and carried a large chip on his shoulder ever since. He made a point of being an asshole to lower level employees in the company whenever possible. &#x200B; I braced myself for his usual insults, but was taken aback when he instead jumped up from his chair and rushed toward me. Was he planning to tackle me? &#x200B; Instead, he grabbed my hand and shook it vigorously. "It's so good to see you, Mr. Lewis," he effused. "Please, allow me to get your car." &#x200B; He held out his hand, and dumbfoundedly, I handed him my keys. He rushed off, and a few minutes later, pulled up with my Subaru. &#x200B; "Here you go, sir. I hope you have a great evening." &#x200B; What in the world? Had he hit his head on something? But as I drove off, it dawned on me. Kirk was behaving... like I was in charge. Is it possible that my wish had actually worked? &#x200B; I needed to stop by the bank to deposit my paycheck on the way home, so maybe that would give me a chance to test this out further. I parked and walk in toward the bank, passing several people on the way. Around half of them made a point of looking at me, bowing slightly, and saying "Sir" before continuing on. The other half ignored me. So maybe the wish was working, but not on everyone? &#x200B; I walked into the bank, and all hell broke loose. &#x200B; Two men in masks had just pulled out guns. One had his pointed at a teller, ordering her to give him the bank's money. The second had his pointed at a group of bank customers, yelling at them to be quiet. &#x200B; The two gunmen looked at me as I entered. Here it is, I thought. Maybe this is my chance to save the day? &#x200B; Nope. &#x200B; "Get over here!" The second gunman yelled. He gestured with his gun to join the other customers. The first turned back to demanding money from the teller. Clearly, the odds had not been in my favor. &#x200B; I walked over with my hands above my head. As I approached, several members of the group looked at me imploringly. "Please save us!" one of them whispered. Seeing as there was nothing I could do, I did my best to ignore them. &#x200B; The teller began retrieving money and filling up a bag the gunman had given here. After a couple of minutes, though, the sound of sirens could be heard in the distance, quickly growing louder. &#x200B; "Shit!" The second gunman cursed. "We were supposed to have more time." &#x200B; "We gotta go!" The first gunman yelled, grabbing the bag. He zipped it up and started running towards the door. Before he got there, the volume of sirens increased dramatically, and a cop car skidded to a stop just outside. &#x200B; "Dammit! We gotta go with Plan B." The first gunman turned around and trained his gun on me and the other customers. "Nobody move. If you all behave, maybe no one has to die today." The second gunman moved behind us, his gun also pointed towards us. &#x200B; Through the door window, I could see two officers had emerged from the cop car. They drew their weapons and entered the bank. Raising their guns, they pointed them... at me. &#x200B; "Sir, let these people go! Don't make us shoot you!" One of the cops yelled. &#x200B; The gunmen looked each other, clearly confused. The first pointed his gun directly at me as well. &#x200B; "One question: why do the police seem to think we are YOUR hostages?" &#x200B; Oh shit, I thought. Suddenly, $500 seemed like a great bargain.	His guns remained. With steadiness. Or wait. Maybe it was me. Considering his eyes locked with Fear along with intimidation I wouldn't guess more. The police were starting to surround the area. It's going to be a hassle now... "Who are you...?" Stumble in his voice. "The police...why are they afraid of you?" I met my gaze at him and smirked. Well, no wonder he would think that. "The FBI...CIA...there are all here. For you. Only for you." He didn't lower the gun instead his grip tightened. "You're the only hostage. What the heck did you even do?" I didn't say anything. He's going to know about it pretty soon anyway. The radio, that he was holding on, buzzed. carefully, his eyes still fixated towards me, he motioned one of his companions to answer it. This man had at least six cronies with him. Myself and the staff members being the only hostages. But the crew seemed like they didn't care less about them. All of their guns were pointed at me. "Anyone hear me? This is Caleb Houston. FBI." The hoarse voice who I seemed to recognize from the radio gave me hope that I was going to enjoy this. "Y-yes. I hear you." Considering the situation no one predicted, it's no surprise they're awkward. I could hear Cal sigh with relief. But I'm sure it won't last long. "Is everyone safe? No casualties?" Another positive response. This time, I seemed like Cal was talking to someone else. "So, your the members from the heist, am I right?" His voice returned in motion. "What is he doing right now?" The question was about me of course. "Long time no see, Cal." I yelled. "Shut up!" The man's trembling became oblivious right now. Too bad for him. "Just ignore him." Cal's end was becoming real louder. I better finish this up before it gets too annoying. "Listen to me. Forget the heist for now. No matter the money, we'll take care of it. Just don't shoot at him." The voice started becoming unclear. "He's not a hostage. And don't use him as one. Once you shoot, it's over. I repeat. Do not fire" The tension raised. I could hear their breathing. Without a pause. Cal sighed out. I couldn't make out his last conversion. But no matter the circumstance, I know he gets me. Or for the least, that's what I think of him after solving the few hundred murders I committed. I always lose count. "Hey. I think I have an idea..." One of the heist members rose their voice interrupting the cold silence. "Just think about it. This guy is someone who's really important to the police! If we use him as a hostage to get out of here...we should be able to get a huge amount ourselves, right?" Gazes were passed on to each other. Seems like they were thinking the same thing. "What are we waiting for? Let's get out of here!" Another one whispered, making sure the staff members didn't overhear anything. With no objections, they started to carry out the plan. "Hey, wait. I have an objection!" My cry made them jump. But being still, they seemed skilled with their weapons. Everyone's gaze aimed at me. "What?" "I'm not really a follower, you see. Can you guys follow me instead?" Their expressions were befuddled. It turned ironic sooner than I expected. "Do you realize the situation you're in right now?" One of the guys chortled while others wore a proud peer straightened at me. "Of course!" I nodded "I'm holding you guys hostage, aren't I?" My reply raised laughter in the room. But soon enough after a few more conversations, They got annoyed. Just as I predicted. "Shut up, will you? Otherwise, I'm going to have to shoot you." That's why I'm doing this, idiot. "Well, I'm sure a bunch of cronies like you wouldn't be able to escape even a few meters from the police. Oh sorry. Let me rephrase that. I meant centimeters." "You little-" A gunshot interfered. Aimed straight at my leg. But it wasn't from the guy I was talking to. He looked back, to the direction it was shot from."What are you-" "Don't worry. I aimed at his leg. Now he'd learn to respect us a bit." With a grin, he started to lower his gun... Expect his hand was empty. "What the hell?" He looked around. The gun he just used had disappeared right in front of his eyes. "You know, the perfect opportunity to grab a gun is right after it's shot." My voice sent shrills down their spines. This time, everyone's attention drew to the one who fired. No. I guess it was me. who was holding the gun of his, pointed at him. "I've never met idiots as much as you. FBI, CIA, United States Department of justice... Why do you think they're here? For me. You should have at least had a second thought about how dangerous I am if all these people are looking for me." I have pointed the gun right at his temple. I shortened the distance. "You see, I was charged with death sentence 26 times, for attempting more than 250 murders. But guess what? I escaped. Now those guys are trying to get me into an asylum. And running over and over, I ended up here. I'm kind of disappointed actually. You lot are the reason, let me tell you. When a man is shouting in the radio repeating the same thing over and over, it means you're supposed to follow his instructions. But instead, you had to be a big stubborn kid going through adolescence, don't you?" "W-what are you doing here?" His question left me with surprise. I grinned. "You see, I lost a bet! But I have no idea how to rob a bank! I tried persuading the guy that I could bring over a few dead bodies for him, but he threw up so I was left with no other choice...Can you teach me? I have no idea how banks work nowadays."
	[WP] "One question," asks the man with his gun aimed at your head, right between your empty, upraised hands. "Why do the police seem to think we are your hostages?"	It really is true what they say -- you get what you pay for. &#x200B; I was in a bad place that day. My boss had just given me the news that the promotion I'd been working towards over the past six months wasn't going to happen. Instead, some nephew of the CEO was getting the management position. They didn't expect to have another role open up for the rest of the year. &#x200B; I couldn't bear to head home and deliver the bad news to my family after work, so I wandered the streets for a while. I suppose I should have found it surprising when I came across the curiosity shop that I'd never seen before, particularly since the provincial design stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the surrounding businesses. I wasn't paying attention to much of anything at that point, though, other than finding something to take my mind off the day's events. &#x200B; "Welcome, welcome!" The store owner smiled broadly as I entered. "Welcome to Ozymandias' Emporium. We carry the finest talismans and trinkets. Perhaps I could interest you in a good luck charm?" &#x200B; "I could have used some luck this morning," I grumbled. "Not a whole lot of good it'll do me now, though." &#x200B; "Ah, I see that more powerful solutions may be called for here. One moment, please." The man stepped through a curtain behind the counter and returned a few seconds later with an ornate box. He opened it to reveal five luminescent gems. &#x200B; "Angel tears -- extremely potent charms. The bearer will be granted one wish of their choice. A chance to set the wrongs in your life right." &#x200B; The store keeper moved the box to give me a closer look. The gems were beautiful, seeming to not just reflect and refract the light around us, but to emit their own. As I admired them, I noticed the price tag, which read "$500." &#x200B; "Oh, that's definitely too pricey for me," I told him. "The gems are lovely, but I couldn't do anything over $25." &#x200B; "The value of a wish is limitless! Surely you can see how $500 would be a bargain here?" &#x200B; I shrugged noncommittally, preparing to turn and leave. &#x200B; "Well..." He hesitated a moment. "I may have something. But... I'm not sure it's really what you want." &#x200B; He went back behind the curtain and returned with a smaller, dingier box. Opening it revealed another gem like the others. On closer inspection, though, something seemed different. The colors were a bit odd, and the reflected light seemed to warp in unusual ways. &#x200B; "The angel who produced this was... a bit off," he explained. "The tear will still grant you a wish, but there may be... side effects." &#x200B; I looked at the price tag, and was astonished to see it read "$15." The gem was still beautiful, despite its oddness. &#x200B; "I'll take it," I told him. &#x200B; "Very well," he replied, taking my money and packaging it up for me. "But remember that I did warn you." &#x200B; As I left and walked back towards the office garage, I thought about the experience. The wish was complete nonsense, of course, but I suppose, why not give it a try? I thought for a few minutes, then unwrapped the gem, and held it in my hand. &#x200B; "I want to be in charge." &#x200B; I suddenly felt like I'd been hit by lightning. All my hairs stood on end, and a wave of intense energy washed through me. It was gone a moment later, though. Could I have just imagined it? Was this my mind playing tricks on me, trying to convince me that the angel tear had really done something? &#x200B; I was pondering this as I approached the office garage, but was pulled out of my thoughts when I saw it was Kirk on attendant duty. Kirk was one of those kids who peaked in high school and carried a large chip on his shoulder ever since. He made a point of being an asshole to lower level employees in the company whenever possible. &#x200B; I braced myself for his usual insults, but was taken aback when he instead jumped up from his chair and rushed toward me. Was he planning to tackle me? &#x200B; Instead, he grabbed my hand and shook it vigorously. "It's so good to see you, Mr. Lewis," he effused. "Please, allow me to get your car." &#x200B; He held out his hand, and dumbfoundedly, I handed him my keys. He rushed off, and a few minutes later, pulled up with my Subaru. &#x200B; "Here you go, sir. I hope you have a great evening." &#x200B; What in the world? Had he hit his head on something? But as I drove off, it dawned on me. Kirk was behaving... like I was in charge. Is it possible that my wish had actually worked? &#x200B; I needed to stop by the bank to deposit my paycheck on the way home, so maybe that would give me a chance to test this out further. I parked and walk in toward the bank, passing several people on the way. Around half of them made a point of looking at me, bowing slightly, and saying "Sir" before continuing on. The other half ignored me. So maybe the wish was working, but not on everyone? &#x200B; I walked into the bank, and all hell broke loose. &#x200B; Two men in masks had just pulled out guns. One had his pointed at a teller, ordering her to give him the bank's money. The second had his pointed at a group of bank customers, yelling at them to be quiet. &#x200B; The two gunmen looked at me as I entered. Here it is, I thought. Maybe this is my chance to save the day? &#x200B; Nope. &#x200B; "Get over here!" The second gunman yelled. He gestured with his gun to join the other customers. The first turned back to demanding money from the teller. Clearly, the odds had not been in my favor. &#x200B; I walked over with my hands above my head. As I approached, several members of the group looked at me imploringly. "Please save us!" one of them whispered. Seeing as there was nothing I could do, I did my best to ignore them. &#x200B; The teller began retrieving money and filling up a bag the gunman had given here. After a couple of minutes, though, the sound of sirens could be heard in the distance, quickly growing louder. &#x200B; "Shit!" The second gunman cursed. "We were supposed to have more time." &#x200B; "We gotta go!" The first gunman yelled, grabbing the bag. He zipped it up and started running towards the door. Before he got there, the volume of sirens increased dramatically, and a cop car skidded to a stop just outside. &#x200B; "Dammit! We gotta go with Plan B." The first gunman turned around and trained his gun on me and the other customers. "Nobody move. If you all behave, maybe no one has to die today." The second gunman moved behind us, his gun also pointed towards us. &#x200B; Through the door window, I could see two officers had emerged from the cop car. They drew their weapons and entered the bank. Raising their guns, they pointed them... at me. &#x200B; "Sir, let these people go! Don't make us shoot you!" One of the cops yelled. &#x200B; The gunmen looked each other, clearly confused. The first pointed his gun directly at me as well. &#x200B; "One question: why do the police seem to think we are YOUR hostages?" &#x200B; Oh shit, I thought. Suddenly, $500 seemed like a great bargain.	The day at the bank started as everyday does, opening the main entrance after all the money in the vault has been counted. The first customers come and go without incident, but shortly before lunch a man in dressed in a red suit comes in. The royal bank is known for its all dressed in red employees. At first he seemed like a normal employee doing deposit or retreat. He came to my desk and asked me to please stop looking at the computer, so i did and looked him straight in the eyes. He meet my glare by showing me the gun still attached to his belt. I'm shaking inside while trying to remain calm. The robber wants 110 000$, he's dumb i thought because our bank has a policy of 100 000$ maximum in the vault that can be given to robbers. This policy is in place because its cheaper to lose that much money than pay the insurance for the damage or pay the higher insurance rate when a place is deemed at risk. If he wasn't greedy he'd get quite a lot of money, but now he probably won't get any. The robber annoyed with my lack of actions presses the gun to my temple telling me he'll kill me if I don't give him what he wants. I'm the only employee working during lunchtime, so i tell him i'm only a broke college student and I don't have access to the vault. Police sirens are getting closer, and he's getting nervous. Pressing the gun harder against my head he repeats his threat, but as a broke college student I beg him to go through with it. Police around now, he stood in an angle of the room where he won't be seen from the outside. Police with their negotiator threw a walkie talkie in the bank asking to talk to someone, it landed at the robber's feet. Leaning over he takes it, and after a brief conversation with the police he turns to me and ask me why are they thinking i'm your hostage? Suddenly it dawns on me: my mom missed place my red and green suits, and i'm the one dressed as an outsider from the bank. This is definitely the worst scenario I've been in, working alone at lunchtime as a colorblind teller.
	[WP] "One question," asks the man with his gun aimed at your head, right between your empty, upraised hands. "Why do the police seem to think we are your hostages?"	Sheree sure hoped that the interview went well. She could use a break, and this would be one hell of a break. A stable 9 to 5, with full benefits? It sure beat scrounging for hours at the diner. She could handle the hours and the physical toll of the work, but the stress of whether she could make rent this month was punishing. As she walked up to the building, she took a moment to steel herself. A lot was riding on the next hour. “I got this,” she reminded herself. It was a bit of a mantra, and it’d gotten her through some tough times. “I got this,” she repeated with ferocity. She was going to show them what Sheree Johnson was all about. — — — — — “Ms. Johnson? Oh, yes, I see you have a 9AM interview. Have a seat, I’ll let Mr. Glavine know you’re here.” “Thank you, ma’am.” Sheree took a seat in the corner, out of habit. Some routines never quite leave, and having her back to the wall was one of those habits. It wasn’t a precaution that she expected she would need in this reception room, but she did it nevertheless. Even as she waited patiently, she took note of her surroundings. There were only three others in the room, but one of them in particular caught her attention. There was something off about him; he was fidgety and squirmed in his chair, as if he was afraid of what was to come. “Nervous?” she broke the silence with a simple question. “Yeah, guess you could say that.” “It’s just talking.” “Not for me.” “I’m sure we’ll do fine.” “I hope so.” “I’m Sheree,” she offered as she extended her hand to the man. “Tim.” “Nice to meet you.” “Likewise.” Sheree wasn’t quite sure how to continue the conversation from there, and apparently Tim didn’t know how to, either. Though neither one said anything, they both went back to their own respective bubbles. The conversation was over almost as soon as it started. Suddenly, Tim broke the silence again. “Hey … thanks.” “For what?” “Saying something to me. Appreciate it,” he quickly mumbled. “Don’t sweat it.” “You’re a good person, Sheree.” “Nah, just trying to be polite.” “Well-“ Tim started to explain once more, but the receptionist called out his name in that very moment. “Looks like you’re up.” “Looks like,” Tim replied with a sigh. “Here goes nothing.” “Knock ‘em dead.” Tim looked at Sheree quizzically, but said nothing. Instead, he braced himself and forced himself to stand. It was quite the show for simply walking to the front desk, but he did it with all of the solemnity of a man walking to his death. He took measured steps, and Sheree could have sworn she heard him whispering to himself. It was … odd. As soon as he got to the front desk, she understood why. With an awkward motion, he reached into his jacket and pulled out a firearm. It looked like an M9 from her vantage point. She was intimately familiar with that weapon, and knew what it could do. “Everybody down!” She hit the ground, as did everyone around her. The only difference was that she kept her eyes forward, making sure that she kept watching the man with the firearm. If she at least knew where he was, she could try to handle the threat. Closing her eyes wasn’t going to help matters any. The next thing that Time did, however, surprised her. Instead of aiming the weapon at anyone in the room, he held it to his neck. Apparently, Tim was more interested in making a statement than hurting others. “I’ll do it. I really will,” he said to no one in particular. Sheree realized that this was going to play out very differently than she had initially expected. She might not need to defend herself after all. “Tim? You don’t need to do this.” “I don’t have a choice, Sheree.” “Yes, you do.” “I don’t.” “Talk to me.” “I have cancer, stage 4.” “I’m sorry.” “I did everything right, all my life. Studied, worked hard. But when I needed the system, they said I wasn’t covered. That was it. A letter in the mail. A freaking letter. They signed my death warrant with a form letter. You believe that?” “That sucks. My uncle died from lung cancer.” “Lymphona.” “You don’t want to go out like this.” “I have to.” “No, you don’t. You’ll just be some crazy on the news. You’ll be forgotten, ostracized.” “I’ll be dead. I don’t care what they say about me then.” “You got kids?” That seemed to strike a nerve with Tim. He stopped for a second. Whatever came out of his mouth, Sheree knew that he was no stranger to children. They’d been an important part of his life at some point. “You don’t understand, this is for them!” Tim shrieked. “How will this help?” Tim stormed over to where Sheree lay, the emotion of the conversation getting the better of him. “You really think I want them worrying over me? Draining their savings to try to get me one more chemo session? Stressing at night? I’m a dead man. Might as well end it now, and save them the trouble.” “Maybe you’re dying, but you don’t want this to be how they remember you,” Sheree replied from her prone position. “Trust me. It doesn’t make for a happy memory.” “So what then? Wither away? What would you have me do?” “Hey, I’m going to sit up, okay?” “Suit yourself. Just don’t make any sudden movements.” “Fine,” Sheree replied as she seated herself more comfortably. “Look, I can’t tell you how to die. Personally, I’d find a state that let me end my life on my terms, and move there. But you’re entitled to your own opinion. It’s your call.” Tim stared off into space, reflecting for a moment on Sheree’s words. He was clearly lost some scenario, playing out something in his head. If he hadn’t been so far away, Sheree might’ve seized the opportunity to disarm him. Instead, she focused on the man with the firearm. He was still a threat, no matter who he was pointing the gun at. The TV in the corner said as much, as news channels started to pick up the story of an active shooter. “How old are they?” “Twenty two and twenty three. Good kids, but they’re barely out of college.” “Won’t have the funds to cover care without going into debt.” “Yeah.” “Let them make their own decisions. You owe them that much.” “No! I won’t ruin three lives at once!” “And this will fix everything? Making their father a pariah is going to let them live the rest of their lives in peace?” “I don’t have any other options!” “There’s always a choice, Tim.” “Look, I’m not debating this with you,” Tim spat back as he got close to Sheree. “This ends my way.” The gun was close now, within reach of her arms. If she kept him talking, she had a chance of ending this all. — — — — — (This got too long, so [part two](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/bq8s4n/wp_one_question_asks_the_man_with_his_gun_aimed/eo2v436?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x) is below)	The day at the bank started as everyday does, opening the main entrance after all the money in the vault has been counted. The first customers come and go without incident, but shortly before lunch a man in dressed in a red suit comes in. The royal bank is known for its all dressed in red employees. At first he seemed like a normal employee doing deposit or retreat. He came to my desk and asked me to please stop looking at the computer, so i did and looked him straight in the eyes. He meet my glare by showing me the gun still attached to his belt. I'm shaking inside while trying to remain calm. The robber wants 110 000$, he's dumb i thought because our bank has a policy of 100 000$ maximum in the vault that can be given to robbers. This policy is in place because its cheaper to lose that much money than pay the insurance for the damage or pay the higher insurance rate when a place is deemed at risk. If he wasn't greedy he'd get quite a lot of money, but now he probably won't get any. The robber annoyed with my lack of actions presses the gun to my temple telling me he'll kill me if I don't give him what he wants. I'm the only employee working during lunchtime, so i tell him i'm only a broke college student and I don't have access to the vault. Police sirens are getting closer, and he's getting nervous. Pressing the gun harder against my head he repeats his threat, but as a broke college student I beg him to go through with it. Police around now, he stood in an angle of the room where he won't be seen from the outside. Police with their negotiator threw a walkie talkie in the bank asking to talk to someone, it landed at the robber's feet. Leaning over he takes it, and after a brief conversation with the police he turns to me and ask me why are they thinking i'm your hostage? Suddenly it dawns on me: my mom missed place my red and green suits, and i'm the one dressed as an outsider from the bank. This is definitely the worst scenario I've been in, working alone at lunchtime as a colorblind teller.
	[WP] Humanity makes first contact with a non-space faring alien civilization, but the plot thickens when both species realize the other also has domesticated house cats..	Note for the sensitive: I swear a few times Title: HR issues First contact. I was part of the lucky few who were to meet the aliens, though now we were more of an alien species. After all, earth jumped at a new potential colony, and “didn’t detect anything”. the land, after all, would be a fresh and fertile place for humans to inhabit, or company’s to strip clean of resources. Assholes thought there would be nothing like there always is, and how wrong they were. When we entered the atmosphere, we were greeted with a cityscape that reminded me of 21st century New York, and the fearful gaze of the sentient creatures. Getting a good look at them, they were about 8 feet tall on average, had blue skin, 2 eyes of cool colors, and 2 legs and 4 arms. The team was struck with panic, after all, why wouldn’t you be, we were an initial research team for the government to check if the world was worth the effort or not. After about 5 minutes, the captain made the call to land in a deserted area and wait for their response. Well, we did, and as the leader of the HR department, naturally I should be the fucking one to lead the greeting team. Wonderful. I don’t get paid enough for this bullshit. Whatever, so here I am now. I just got the call saying that they have arrived, and me and my crew are equipped to meet them. I am a little excited to meet them, but am more concerned with their military nuking our ship out of precaution, if I’m going to be honest. I sigh and exit the ship, with the goddam engineering crew fucking with the speed of the ramp lowering for dramatic effect. Goddam assholes. They get drunk and wreak the shit their supposed to fix, and leave MY department to clean it up. Whatever, the ramp lowered, it’s finally time. I walk out with my arms completely raised, implying I pose no threat, of course, I am met with a couple hundred of the lifeforms with their weapons raised. Slug throwers, of course. I have my two hands raised, and continue to move down the ramp, I check behind me for my assistants. Fuck. They left. Pressure must have got to them, I just sighed and spoke. “Alright I know you won’t understand this, but please drop your weapons, you’re frightening my crew.” They tilted their heads in confusion. I walked off the ramp and onto the ground, and I pointed to the closest soldier’s gun and motioned putting it onto the ground. The soldier hesitated before doing so, and yelled out some words, which sounded a lot like French actually. The rest did so, minus a couple. There seemed to be a seat prepared for me, so I, the little human sat down in the chair, and I was stared down at by about 4-5 hundred giant aliens. “Dante” I pointed to myself, and the alien did the same. His name sounded like Thush, so I repeated that and he smiled, I think anyways. He said my name and I nodded, and put my thumbs up. We played more charades, and finally our purpose came up. I pointed to a soldier, and nodded no, and thrush smiled. The guns aimed at me went away, thank fuck. I stood up, and motioned for him to follow. After a fair bit of discussion on their part, The two closest guards followed the commander with me. I walked onto the ship, and my crew was standing there nervously. “Man, you guys suck.” I said, and scowled. I mentioned for them to follow, and we finally entered our comms room. I entered and was shocked to see the also incompetent comms team playing with a cat. I was dumbfounded that grown adults would be doing so during first alien contact, but that’s besides the point. They did their job having the AI create a translator with the minimal speech we had. They cleaned out, and turned it on, but thrush was still staring at the cat. “Hello? Does this work?” I said into the translator, and one of the soldiers responded “What is a cat doing in your ship?” I pointed at the cat “It’s just a cat, they are common household creatures on all 13 of our worlds” “W-we also have them here” Dead silence throughout the room. We were all just staring at the cat, which was still playing with a piece of string.	It took us half a century to get to the moon. Took us another to get to the outer reaches of our solar system. The walk wasn't easy. From the beginning, it was fraught with difficulties. Political, economic, even scientific. Breakthroughs that we needed to achieve the sort of drift that could carry us to planet N-x were only acheived towards the end of the previous century. The year is 2131 now. We landed on N-x soon after. A lot has changed since then. We now have two species of felines living with us. One, obviously are the big cats we domesticated thousands of years ago. The other, surprisingly, is part of a very elaborate and ambitious diplomatic mission. To achieve a space partnership on the basis of purrs and whimpers alone! But I digress. As the Stik-21 (our ship) landed on N-x, our astronauts were surprised to find it already inhabited. It threw us off because our instruments could not identify the cold blooded species that lived there. The sentient race had not only a script but had also developed space travel. They'd only gotten halfway to us though. There were hot blooded felines among them however, not too different from ours. A little more vicious it would seem, considering they devoured the aliens (they call themselves Cęrets) whole if they were not fed. Cęrets were dumb enough to try and domesticate them. That took up most of their time. Perhaps that is why we beat them in exploring space. As we made contact, we discovered our mutual love for felines, and this began a very long partnership that has lasted us both very well. Now we regularly send cats here and there. They've taken surprisingly well to space travel. Our only casualties usually are us, unfortunately. Their furry charms lay us waste.
	[WP] Humanity makes first contact with a non-space faring alien civilization, but the plot thickens when both species realize the other also has domesticated house cats..	You know how they say, "Their ships filled the sky"? Well in this case it was our ships, and their sky. Ron Joordens never imagined he'd live to see this day. All the way from being ridiculed (just short of bullied) in high school, through his suddenly-found passion in the university, and through those harrowing deep space drills after he was accepted in the first Deep Space Puncture program. Truth to be told, Ron still didn’t quite understand how the thing worked. Sure, he knew everything about the way the new drive was supposed to collapse space in front of the ship and expand it behind, but… the marvel of it all, the novelty just never seemed to wear off. And of course trying it within the confines of the Sols (that was shorthand for the Solar system) was one thing… Deep Space was another. Deep Space was another. Even for someone who has never left Earth and perhaps even one’s own country, it must still be clear how, since early childhood, we Earthlings tend to think of our planetary neighbourhood as our home. Sure, it is all very far away. But still, you grow up with these names, and these planets, and later on with their moons, and their colours, and weathers, and stories and mysteries. Of course they are all infinitely less known than Earth. But they are nevertheless… home, although in a much broader sense. Deep Space is entirely alien. Sure, you have charts, and extremely sophisticated navigation equipment, and AI that in a millisecond extracts more information from your surroundings than you can hope to digest in your entire lifetime (which, by the way, is no longer 80 years; think more 140, of which 120 are fully productive), but that’s okay because you don’t need to, because another piece of AI does the job for you... You have protective space drones that create a virtually impenetrable armour around your vessel. In short, space travel itself is quite understandable. But this in no way helps with how bizarre it is, at the core of it all, to expect to encounter new worlds; and on these new worlds, new creatures. Who knows what they are like? Humanoid in appearance or more like giant crabs?.. Ron would never admit this (because this would be seen as childish, he knew, especially by the stern instructors at the DSA), but in truth, he was absolutely dying to be a part of the Contact. A lot of people, he knew, were in it just for the thrill of discovery, just to feel the enormity of space succumb to the ingenuity of human intellect—just to subdue the universe, distance, the dispassionate emptiness of cosmos. But Ron wasn’t really interested in that. What he really wanted was to find and see new life. He knew it would be unlike anything he saw before, and his imagination was in a constant state of overdrive. Ron was obsessed. It is therefore hardly surprising that Sr Lt Joordens of Deep Space Contact Mission 1 was among the first to disembark on MHDC (M-class, Habitable, Designated Contact) “Easter”, so called because there were giant stone heads orbiting it. When they detected the heads back at HQ, there was a bit of silence as the image was processed and enhanced (Ron happened to be in the lab when it was done), after which somebody said, “Well, Joordens, you’re in luck and there’s no mistake”. The heads were vaguely humanlike. There was no mistake. The civilization was there. Or at least something had to be there. And Ron would be there, too. To witness it. To see the new life. Or so he thought. But then they traversed the first city, and it was empty. Oh, the architecture was striking, that’s for sure, with intimidatingly tall arches and weirdly bending spires; and the material culture was also unlike anything seen on Earth (although the end uses for all these artifacts, Ron suspected, had to be very much the same). But there were no inhabitants, at least not in the first settlement, and Ron was heartbroken. Did the heads lie? Were they put here by someone other than the indigenous population? There was really no way to tell, but nothing betrayed the ability of these people to travel the stars. Were they planet-locked, as Earthlings were a mere century ago? Did they flee when the ships came? They then traveled to the next city, and searched it for life, too. And found just one… person. The creature lay motionless in the middle of the town square in a sort of sarcophagus. It was tranquil and absolutely, entirely humanoid in appearance—far more so than the satellite heads. In fact, and most disappointingly, its face strongly reminded Ron of his alcoholic uncle who lived back in Oklahoma and only ever called to ask for money. After some initial confusion, and after the interlingo was established, the creature said peacefully (in fact in a rather monotonous manner of someone who had been thoroughly drugged), ‘Hail and well met. Do you come across the F-Network?’ Ron and his pals responded in kind. They were trained for this, in fact. ‘The F-Network?’ ‘Space travels on the F-Network.’ ‘Do you mean we need to access the F-Network to travel through space?’ ‘No. The Space unfolds on the back of the F-Network.’ This caused some difficulty, but after a while, and when they made sure the translation was correct, they asked: ‘What is the F-Network?’ ‘The F-Network is catly.’ This made them pause. The interlingo was an extremely versatile and powerful tool, trained on species as diverse and non-humanlike as orcas, bees and tardigrades, yet it also had its failures. Surely this had to be one of them. ‘Catly?..’ The creature became restless. ‘CATLY! CATLY! OF THE CATS!’ The Contact team had to quickly confer. Should they continue or cease contact? Ron was strongly in favour of keeping the contact alive, but cautiously. ‘Cats. Of course we have cats. This is why it is called the F-Network, correct? Feline?’ The strange envoy instantly calmed down. ‘Yes. F-Network. Of cats. Critical to the fabric of space-time.’ ‘So let us see if we get this straight. Cats are critical to the fabric of space-time?’ ‘Space travels on the F-Network,’ the local repeated stubbornly. ‘Do you not understand? SPACE TRAVELS ON THE F-NETWORK.’ And then it dawned on Ron. And what he understood was so terrible that he almost fainted, but realised there was no time to lose, not even for that. ‘Guys,’ he said feverishly, ‘guys—don’t you understand? Don’t you? Something awful is coming. We need to retreat, right now. We need to leave. Take this chap and go. We have no time.’ ‘What’s up, Ron?’ said Jr Lt Jane Feathermoore of the DSCM1. ‘Xeno dread, suddenly? Cold feet?’ ‘You do not understand,’ said Ron. He tried to sound as calm as he could. ‘He says Space travels on the F-Network. But there are no cats here. And no people. We have arrived in a place that will soon cease to be.’ The envoy nodded, vigorously. ‘This is the edge. The F-Network is rearranging. Collapsing, perhaps. We do not know.’ They were bewildered then, all of them. But this merited some action, and the protocol said: when in doubt, retreat. And so they did. (They also took the sarcophagus with them, of course; the envoy seemed to be at peace, and almost slept.) Before lunch, then, if only to calm their nerves, they all tuned into the familiar frequencies of home, just to ask if everything was okay. And it was, it seemed. Everything was fine. Only Ron’s cat ran away, the stupid creature. And by a strange coincidence so did Jane Feathermoore’s. But it had to be a coincidence, right? Nothing else. Cats like to run away, but usually they return.	It took us half a century to get to the moon. Took us another to get to the outer reaches of our solar system. The walk wasn't easy. From the beginning, it was fraught with difficulties. Political, economic, even scientific. Breakthroughs that we needed to achieve the sort of drift that could carry us to planet N-x were only acheived towards the end of the previous century. The year is 2131 now. We landed on N-x soon after. A lot has changed since then. We now have two species of felines living with us. One, obviously are the big cats we domesticated thousands of years ago. The other, surprisingly, is part of a very elaborate and ambitious diplomatic mission. To achieve a space partnership on the basis of purrs and whimpers alone! But I digress. As the Stik-21 (our ship) landed on N-x, our astronauts were surprised to find it already inhabited. It threw us off because our instruments could not identify the cold blooded species that lived there. The sentient race had not only a script but had also developed space travel. They'd only gotten halfway to us though. There were hot blooded felines among them however, not too different from ours. A little more vicious it would seem, considering they devoured the aliens (they call themselves Cęrets) whole if they were not fed. Cęrets were dumb enough to try and domesticate them. That took up most of their time. Perhaps that is why we beat them in exploring space. As we made contact, we discovered our mutual love for felines, and this began a very long partnership that has lasted us both very well. Now we regularly send cats here and there. They've taken surprisingly well to space travel. Our only casualties usually are us, unfortunately. Their furry charms lay us waste.
	[WP] Humanity makes first contact with a non-space faring alien civilization, but the plot thickens when both species realize the other also has domesticated house cats..	"Hi, we come in ... what's .. that?" I blurt out before I can stop myself. The translator turning my confusion into the alien dialect. The universal translator responds in like to the aliens speech, "It is called a Cat. We too welcome you in peace. We have enjoyed talking to you over the subspace communications relay .." I'm afraid to say that I completely zoned out here. This was impossible, wasn't it. The furry echo of my long-passed Mr Nibbles was currently winding it's way through their Leader's legs. I was only brought out of my reverie by a fat tabby attempting to do the same to me. reflexively I reached down and gave it a scratch on it's head. ".. and after the meeting we will discuss a possible trade agreement." Oh shit, what had he just said. I'll have to review the translator playback. We don't let them know it's also a recording device, and we'd be naive to not include it, right? "That's sounds good, your majesty." I say, hoping the honorific will be translated appropriately as I bow appropriate to their custom. "May I also ask, have you always had cats?" The Leader's face moves into an approximate smile as he replies, "Oh certainly. They keep vermin at bay and their purring vibrations are most enjoyable. They are protected in our society and many monuments have been risen to commemorate the most famous. I'm slightly embarrassed to say that many of us consider them as part of the family. Do you not have pets on your world?" I pause, and choose my words very carefully. "We do." "Oh, are they similar to our Cats?" "Very similar, almost identical actually." "That is quite a coincidence! Evolution can be fascinating." "Of course!" I say, cheerfully. I'm finding diplomacy with these specific aliens quite pleasant. "Perhaps there may be other creatures we share?" "Such as?" he politely replies. "Dogs?" "What?" he asks. I notice his face has lost the smile-like expression. "Canines?" I ask politely, the translator at my hip turning it into the alien speech. Suddenly motion erupts. The leader's bodyguards step in front of him as a variety of different alien voices start to shout at each other. The translator falls silent, unable to separate out a single coherent speaker from among then. My heart races as I've obviously misspoken. I start to back away into my own entourage. Finally the shouting comes to a halt as the Leader regains the composure of his staff. "I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you and your race to leave." he says, the clipped tone on his alien tongue betraying his displeasure. &#x200B; &#x200B; I finally get back up to my craft, the ascent in the shuttle is long and tense. At least they didn't shoot us down, or worse. I breathe a sigh of relief when I finally get to my quarters and scratch my pupper behind his ear. "Oh Rusty, I thought I was doing so well." Rusty nuzzles his brown nose up under my hand, hoping for tummy rubs. "I mean, everything was going smoothly, we were talking about their cats, then when I mentioned dogs they suddenly got angry." Rusty pauses as I say this, his brown brows furrowing. He barks and growls a couple of times. The translator crackles to life again. "I'm sorry Jessica, but we have to talk, about the cats." My heart again beats faster again, and I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. "Holy shit Rusty, you can understand me?" "Yes, and like I said, you humans and us dogs need to talk, about the cats."	Scientists from both civilizations are curious and want to study the house cats. For several years, scientists in both civilizations do DNA testing and other medical testing. They set them up in a lab but it's actually a place where they house the cats. The cats from both sides live in luxury. The cats from the alien civilization are very large for the most part. The physical appearance is that of a cat but most are the size of a German shepherd. Small cats look like medium size dogs. The behavior of the cats from the alien civilization are more like dogs. The DNA is very different - unlike anything the other has seen. The alien cats don't meow but bark like a dog. They are very loyal and extremely protective of their owners. Unlike German Shepherds, the alien cats know that their domain ends where the property ends. They will not run down the road like a German shepherd who think they own the block. They will not go off the property to attack unless someone has committed a crime against their family (burglary for example). The cats from the alien civilization sit at the dinner table and is considered to be a family member. They also are covered under the owner's health care insurance. Dental insurance is included. Animal cruelty of any kind isn't tolerated and those who do this in the alien civilization are severely punished (kicked out of the planet and forced to live on another planet. The penalty in the US for animal cruelty isn't as severe. One day one of the cats from the alien civilization escaped. One can only guess what happened.
	[WP] The hero is enjoying a day off thanks to a rare quiet night in the city. That is until the villain shows up to her door, but carrying an unconscious woman and looking distraught. “I saved her from a party....I know this is weird, but I didn’t know who else to go to.”	Pronounciation of names: Mäo - It sounds like Mo, if you don't listen hard enough. You can use that. Ervi - Err-vee Cyko - Like Psycho Kiongozi - Kee-on go-zee It was a quiet fairly normal day. Well, as normal as it could get, in Elizabeth Mäo Munson's house. Ever since Elizabeth met her two friends at age thirteen, her life was never boring. Considering one was a grim reaper, the other a poltergeist. You'd need to know more about this world to get this. But don't worry, it'll be explained soon. The grim reaper that was nicknamed Reaper, as his real name was impossible to pronounce, wasn't really the source of the fun, as he usually stayed quiet. He never really talked, Elizabeth noticed. But being immortal might do that to a powerful being such as him. Elizabeth became annoyed as she sat down onto her armchair, holding her book. Shame Reaper's powers weren't available for any of them. There is always a bigger fish in the sea, for Reaper, that meant whoever ruled the underworld. Whatever the punishment would be, it would not be good. And Reaper was a stickler for the rules, or whatever. No, Reaper was more the source of good ideas. The mischievous poltergeist, on the other hand... Sam, was his name. Or so he told her. Such a simple name, for such an odd being. The white haired ball of mischief was the one entertaining. And frustrating. The explosives in Elizabeth's basement were very unnerving. Yes, Sam was never boring, though he was always bored, which can explain the explosives for you. Though Elizabeth was always on edge whenever she went past the stairs leading to the basement, afraid the TNT might somehow go off, she didn't mind Sam as much as you'd think she'd do. Their friendship was odd. Elizabeth's black cat, Kitty, jumped onto the armrest, carefully sitting down with a smile on her adorable face. Another one of Elizabeth's friends, whom she met when she was five, was also just as odd as the rest of them. You see, the cat could talk. It was very useful in terms of communicating, yes. But for people that never saw such a thing, it was sometimes a shock. But Elizabeth never got that, those people's villages were raided nearly every day by orcs on skinny horses. A talking cat was nowhere near as weird as that. Elizabeth smiled, petting her friend as she opened up her book exactly where she left off. She wouldn't have minded, anyway. She wasn't exactly the most normal human, either. Nor was she an actual human. Perhaps a hybrid was a better way to put it. That was one of the reasons Kitty became her friend. She was half mesuki, half human. You've never heard of Mesukians, have you? It's not very complicated, though there is definitely much more to it; Mesukians are basically just anthropomorphic cats with human intelligence. Her mother was a Mesukian, Elizabeth inherited her mother's ears and a tail. Though that was basically it, aside from sharper senses and sharper teeth. Everything else she got from her father (Brown hair, green eyes, fair skin..), which, may he rest in peace, was killed by the villain of this story only a few months before Elizabeth turned one. For a stupid reason, too. Racism, it's never a good thing. And it's definitely not a good reason to kill anyone. Noticing that her hands started shaking, she took a deep breath, looking outside of the window. The landscape was beautiful. Although she lived in her house for quite a while already - her mother moved out only a couple of months ago, Elizabeth rolled her eyes - it never failed to amaze her. It was unbelievable that there even was a war back then, that her father even contributed in it (That is how he met Elizabeth's mother). The world seemed as if it was never a war zone. Speaking of the war, it was a tragic piece of history that Elizabeth wasn't happy to remember, but for your sake, she was willing to do just that. To put it simply, this world as you've probably already realized, wasn't normal. It was magical. And although there were modern things flying around, the times were still many years behind of the Earth. Magical beings filled this world, only being able to exist thanks to the powersource that has been guarded by the most powerful beings of this world for the past many years. Humans were probably the only ones that haven't been able to even brew a functioning potion, which angered them and they demanded that they get access to the powersource. But that wasn't going to happen, humans would quickly get greedy and demand more, and thus the war started. Humans lost, mind you. You know, that caused a lot of problems. Racism, more wars (though way smaller ones), raids, theft and much more. Which caused Elizabeth to get bullied for being both of those two races. A magical being and an ordinary human. She never let it get to her, though. Elizabeth paused at a particular part in the book she was reading, she read: "There are several types of magical beings, much like there are several types of birds, fish and much more. They divide into monsters..." Monsters. A monster killed her father. Why, you ask? Racism. I've already told you. But not just that. Monsters have lived in fear for many, many years. Simply because their ancestors have done something bad in the past. They live through harsh situations nearly every day and although Elizabeth sometimes pities them, what they are doing to try and help themselves is unacceptable, one of the many reasons for her becoming a hero, in her eyes anyway. What angered them was when the war ended. Humans never really were punished, aside from a few racist comments here and there, maybe a few punches from school bullies, blegh. They did something much worse than whatever monsters did, they demanded access to something that half, if not most of the world's population depended on and when they didn't get it, they started a war. It wasn't fair. However, once again, killing was no better than what humans and other types of magical beings were doing to them. Elizabeth stood behind that. And so did Reaper, Sam and Kitty.	It was strange enough to be getting a knock on my door at midnight, but this was just plain out weird. I opened the door to see the face of the bane of my assistance for the past few months. Phillip Cann. He held a young girl in his arms and his face looked like how a parent who lost their kid in a mall would be. "I saved her from a party... I know this is weird, but I didn't know where else to go." The words rushed out of his mouth like running water, the girl in his arms looked like she'd been smacked across the head with a blunt object. A chair maybe? "This id my day off ya know, like I don't have to put up with you today" It was a little cold for circumsstsnces but it had been a really long weak already. He looked at me with those old eyes and even stuck out his lip like a five year old. I caved saying "Fine but if you're not out of here within the hour i'm throwing out the window." I couldn't act too nice after all he was the criminal i was hunting. I let him in and he dropped laid the girl on the couch. "So tell me why you couldn't just bring her to the hospital?" I asked as i was grabbing a first aid kit from beneath the kitchen counter. He knelt next to the girl's head and brushed her hair away from the wound. "Reasons Jane... Reasons." Vague as always but but i couldn't focus on that for now. I rushed over and started bandging up the girl's head wound. "Whatever, do you at least knoe her name" I asked he and looked away to hide his face. "Mia is her name." I finished her head and inspected the rest of her body. There was nothing to find "she's all fixed up, now. Get out of my apartment" I hadn't known what i was asking him then. But at that moment he just walked out with his head hung down and for just a moment while he was walking out he looked back with a face that seemed full of regret and pain behind it.
	[WP] The hero is enjoying a day off thanks to a rare quiet night in the city. That is until the villain shows up to her door, but carrying an unconscious woman and looking distraught. “I saved her from a party....I know this is weird, but I didn’t know who else to go to.”	The shrill bark of the doorbell rang through the dark hallway as I walked towards my front door, rubbing the sleep out of one eye with a thumb and trying to make my hair look less slept-on. Typical, I thought, the one night in weeks I decide to stay in and this shit happens. The doorbell was still shrieking at me. It had been a good 40 seconds of someone leaning on the button. Far too long to be anything good. Mind you, when did any good come of someone ringing on a doorbell after 1 AM? My social life was about as desolate as my bare fridge, and my colleagues weren’t the type to drop in via unannounced. Well, not by the front door at least. I tapped the little screen by the front door, waking up the camera system, stifling a yawn. The black panel lit up, and the image it displayed was better than a cold shower. On the screen stood a man, clad from head to toe in black and silver, leather and metal, a dark visor obscuring his face. His shoulders, broad and strong as a gorilla’s, were heaving as he pressed the doorbell with his elbow. “Tsar,” I hissed, my hands flexing instinctively, already reaching for the little burst of energy I needed to... Wait. He was holding someone. His dark costume shining in the downpour, glistening in the sodium glow of a streetlight, he had what looked like a girl in his arms. Maybe. I could see hair, and a dress of some sort. He shifted her, propping her up on his shoulder, and started beating at the door with his free hand. It shook slightly in its frame next to me. The smooth visage of his helmet turned up to my little camera. “Hermes!” He called, the slight trace of his Slavic accent tinny over the speaker. “Let me in! It’s important!” He started banging again. I stood, the cold floor barely registering as I stared at the screen, the heavy oak door shaking next to me with his insistent hammering. He could breeze past that in a second if he wanted to. Why is he waiting? If that was an innocent, I couldn’t fight him without risking her getting hurt. In his arms she’s a hostage, and would become a casualty with a twitch of trunk-like arms. My finger hovered over the small, white alarm button next to the screen. A firm press and there’d be a dozen capes here within a minute. “Please, Hermes.” He’d stopped his knocking. “She needs help. Is not for me.” The Tsar had said please. Jesus Christ. “God damn it,” I muttered to myself, grabbing a scarf from the coat rack and wrapping it around my lower face, before hauling the door open. “Come in,” I growled, waving an arm inside. He brushed past me, rivulets of winter rain coursing off his boots. I glanced up and down the street, and it looked as if it was clear. I locked the door and followed the man responsible for nearly £850 million of property damage and at least 31 deaths into my house. He was stood in the middle of the kitchen, looking very out of place and just as unsure of himself. It seemed that now his plan to get into my house had worked, he had no idea what the next step was. The girl in his arms coughed, a deep hacking bark that shook her body. I shook my head and sighed. “Take her over to the sofa,” I said, waving towards the huge, cream corner sofa that took up most of the open plan living room beyond the dining table. As he started to move towards it, I reached for my power and teleported upstairs to my bathroom before grabbing a few thick towels off the rack. I then jumped to my bedroom, snatching a tracksuit top and jogging bottoms, before going back to the bathroom for the medkit I keep under the sink. I took a deep breath and jumped back downstairs. Tsar jumped a little as I appeared out of thin air right next to him. “Hang on,” I warned him, throwing one towel onto the sofa. “Ok. Put her on that.” I watched him lower the girl to the sofa with a surprising gentleness. I threw the other towel at him and pointed to the sole armchair. “Sit on that over there.” “My thanks,” he said, his voice low. I knelt down next to the girl. She was soaked, and, as I pushed her long, brown hair away from her face, I found a nasty gash across her forehead. “Start talking,” I said, as I unzipped my large medkit and started rifling. “Who is she? What did you do to her?” “I did not do this,” Tsar said, a distorted version of the scene reflected in his visor. “And I do not know this girl.” I pulled out gauze and started wiping the blood off her skin, trying to work out how deep it was. “It was three men. Skot. I was driving and saw them strike her, pull her into alley.” I snorted into the scarf, hands working away. “And the big, bad Tsar decided to play hero. Right.” He was quiet for a second, contemplating my words. “Is true. I was angry. I wanted to help her. She looked scared.” I pressed the edges of her cut together and poured a thin line of medical glue along it, before pulling out two butterfly stitches. “Anyway. After dealing with men, she was still knocked out. I could not go to police or hospital, not in costume. To go home would be too long. She might be seriously injured.” “So why come here? To me? And, on a slightly related note, how the fuck do you know where I live?”	It was strange enough to be getting a knock on my door at midnight, but this was just plain out weird. I opened the door to see the face of the bane of my assistance for the past few months. Phillip Cann. He held a young girl in his arms and his face looked like how a parent who lost their kid in a mall would be. "I saved her from a party... I know this is weird, but I didn't know where else to go." The words rushed out of his mouth like running water, the girl in his arms looked like she'd been smacked across the head with a blunt object. A chair maybe? "This id my day off ya know, like I don't have to put up with you today" It was a little cold for circumsstsnces but it had been a really long weak already. He looked at me with those old eyes and even stuck out his lip like a five year old. I caved saying "Fine but if you're not out of here within the hour i'm throwing out the window." I couldn't act too nice after all he was the criminal i was hunting. I let him in and he dropped laid the girl on the couch. "So tell me why you couldn't just bring her to the hospital?" I asked as i was grabbing a first aid kit from beneath the kitchen counter. He knelt next to the girl's head and brushed her hair away from the wound. "Reasons Jane... Reasons." Vague as always but but i couldn't focus on that for now. I rushed over and started bandging up the girl's head wound. "Whatever, do you at least knoe her name" I asked he and looked away to hide his face. "Mia is her name." I finished her head and inspected the rest of her body. There was nothing to find "she's all fixed up, now. Get out of my apartment" I hadn't known what i was asking him then. But at that moment he just walked out with his head hung down and for just a moment while he was walking out he looked back with a face that seemed full of regret and pain behind it.
	[WP] The hero is enjoying a day off thanks to a rare quiet night in the city. That is until the villain shows up to her door, but carrying an unconscious woman and looking distraught. “I saved her from a party....I know this is weird, but I didn’t know who else to go to.”	Bobby was slightly wobbling after the night out drinking with his mates. These nights were getting too sparse he thought to himself. Slightly impaired due to the alcohol, his physique never would let him get totally shitfaced. He missed that. After wrestling for a few minutes to get the key in the opening, the door swung open. After taking a few steps inside, and closing the door behind him, he tensed. Something felt off. Someone as in the house, intruders? His drunken mind tried to remember if he had promised a place for someone to crash on his sofa today. The possibility of danger started to sober him up. He prowled silently to his living room, that’s where that feeling of wrongness came from. He saw the glimpse of a figure, faintly moving. The silhouette was outlined by the faint background lighting of the city. He recognized the figure of his nemesis, the one that always got away, Bertram “The Wisp”. He tensed and prepared himself, but before he could pounce, he heard the all-too familiar voice speak in it’s gravely tone, “Wait”. Bobby hesitated for a moment, he had been tricked before and, “- please.”. With this he relaxed, more from astonishment he than anything else. He knew the man before his as cold, distant, coldblooded and above all, haughty. He would never beg. Still wary of the one before him, Bobby flicked on the lights. With this, he saw the bleeding figure in the man’s arms, “Bertram, what is the meaning of this”. “Please, help her, she’s wounded.” With a sigh, Bobby let go of any intention of fighting. “Put her on the couch”. Reaching beneath the counter that divided his living room and kitchen, he pulled out a box and started treating her wounds. “Why are you here, Bertram? Why bring her here?”. “Because she doesn’t need to be involved.” “You’re not making sense.”, glad that he had the newest toys for first aid, he start applying a few sprays and a fleshy kind of duct tape over what were clearly bullet wounds. “So what’s her story. She your woman. Family? Friend?” The man who Bobby had always known to have an unflinching eyes, was now sitting with with his head between his hands. “No, no. She’s not connected or involved with me.” “Then why, Bertram? You’ve got your own flunkies and even fancier healing stuff than this.” “I can’t-“, Bobby cut him off. “Look either give me the full story, or you can get out of here, and I’m bringing her in and have her interrogated. Bertram’s head snapped up to look at Bobby, and for a moment Bobby could recognize the man, the villain, he knew. “You can’t, she’s.”, taking a moment to sto, the criminal composed himself. “That’s what I was trying to avoid, for her to be tainted in association with me.” “I was in disguise this evening. Enjoying a night off. Exactly because I knew, you were too. Less chance of me being recognized somewhere. You’re the only one who can somehow see through my disguises.” Bobby was perturbed that Bertram was that up to date of his goings-on, but he put that away for later. He felt the effect of the booze coming up again, now the adrenaline was passing away. So he lit a cigarette and motioned for the villain to continue. “She’s a waitress at the place I was having a drink at. It was quiet, so we had some small talk.”, Bertram got a sarcastic look, “A country girl that went to the city. She’s training to be a cop once. Way too innocent. Wants to save the world and bring peace to everyone.” Even Bobby lifted an eyebrow at that. “I swear to God. Not making that up. So she’s talking about how she’s training physically and studying in her off hours to get into the academy. She did complain that she hadn’t gotten the chance to get around the city yet. Lucky her. But you know, how many heroes spout the lines of saving the world. I’ve heard all before. And even you. I don’t need to remind you that even the best intention can go awry, right?” The memory of that made Bobby wince, the Incident as it was called, wasn’t spoken of directly to those in the know, only referred to. Even the mightiest could be mistaken. A sore lesson that no hero was perfect. Bobby did note, that as Bertram kept telling the tale, his glance kept going over to the girl. “So we’re talking. And outside some shouting is going on. We ignore it mostly, drunk people stuff. As keeps going on an on about her ideals, I even get peeved, you know? Good ideas, but when it comes down to it, they always become politicians or cops and they turn corrupt.” Bobby couldn’t help roll his eyes, a corrupt politician or two had been Bertram’s cause of becoming a criminal. The fact that they had all been convicted didn’t stop Bertram to keep going on in his villainous ways. He didn’t interrupt though. The man’s hands were starting to shake. The Wisp wasn’t so invulnerable after all. “Anyways. Then we hear a gunshot. She freezes and almost panics, I act along. But she doesn’t panic completely. She’s looking for the danger, instead of blindly running. Meanwhile she’s pushing me, a man twice her size, down, saying to stay low because it’s dangerous.” Bobby sighs softly and realizes that this man needs a drink. If not, this story won’t ever end and he won’t see his bed anytime soon. So he pours the man a shot with one finger of whiskey. Looking at the villain falling apart on his couch, he makes it two. “So there she is, crouching forward trying to get a better view of the street and staying in cover. Heh, even better than most of the cops on the street. Then all of a sudden, two figures dive through one of large glass windows, guns in their hands looking for cover themselves. They see me and think I’m a threat and potential witness. So they raise their guns. So I think ‘Ah this is gonna hurt’, but I’ll live, right. What’s a few bullets’” With a nod, Bobby agreed, Bertram was if anything elusive and resilient. This had contributed more to this fame than being an actual effective villain or malicious villain. “And then.”, To his surprise, the grown man on the couch bites back a sob, his voice slightly breaking. “And then, this girl. That’s not even started being a cop, decides that she needed to save me. She dove infront of me and the hit her.” Then the grown man breaks down, crying. Even snot. “She doesn’t deserve this. She-“, another sob, “She’s innocent. This city can’t get to her, man. She’s not involved.” “So why didn’t you bring her to your place, then?” “Because then she’s been tainted by association. You know how it works. If any villain or hero knows that she’s been healed by me, or god forbid sheltered and knows the location of my lair, they’ll be after her. She’ll be hunted for a slight chance of knowing my secret, or being perceived as my weak spot.” With a lesser sob, it seemed that Bertram was done for now. “She needs to be protected, kept safe. She doesn’t deserve to be involved in this struggle between heroes and villains.She needs to be sheltered. You were the only one I could think of that has an actual moral compass.” Bobby sighed, Bertram, who was silently sobbing with his face in his hands again, was about to fall apart again. A headache was coming on. He doused his cigarette and blew out the last bit of smoke. “No.” “Bwu-What?” A sob was choked back, as Bertram was looking at Bobby incomprehensibly. “Nope. Not doing it.” “Huh? But, she needs to be kept safe, she’s an innocent. She’s-“, in turning to Bobby, Bertram was half on a knee, probably unconsciously. Bobby had literally dreamed of having this villain on his knees defeated, humbled and in cuffs. But he wasn’t having it tonight. Besides, a grown man covered in snot with red eyes from crying… Bobby shook his head. “There’s no innocents in this city.” “There are. She is!.” Bobby again shook his head. “Then what about little children that get caught in crossfires when a gang decides to test out new automatic weapons on a rival gang?” “The gangs and villains of this town, long ago decided that there was nothing off limits.” Bobby spoke with a bitter tone. “Get out Bertram, there is no safety or sanctuary for you or this girl here. She decided her fate when she saved the Wisp.” “But she didn’t know!” “Get out.” The man on the couch nodded, and with a handkerchief he produced from somewhere blew his nose and wiped away the almost dried up liquids from his face. “I, I understand.” With each second that passed, Bertram regained more of his usual poise. “I was at fault trying to expect succor from one who has been trying to capture for years.” Picking up the girl, Bertram added. “The Wisp thanks you in this girl’s place for healing her wounds.” Ah there it was, that deep gravely voice that spoke in that annoying third person. Then a bright flash, and girl and man were gone. Bobby cursed. Afterimages played across his sight. That asshole. Using that stuff inside. When he sight was back, he picked up the unfinished whiskey. With a single glug, he emptied the glass. Thinking to himself, he confirmed that he could still harden his heart and be an asshole when times called for it. Bertram had regained a sense of empathy with that girl, and also gained a somewhat selfish wish to keep the girl safe. But he forgot that the girl had wanted to be involved. A small grin appeared on Bobby’s face. It would be interesting to see the most tenacious villain of this city trying to keep that naïve girl safe. Plus the man had obviously developed feelings for the girl. Besides the Wisp was much better at keeping secrets and stuff hidden and safe. Bobby guessed that it was simply the panic and fear of failure that made the Wisp discount his own facilities. With a flick of his hand, the lights went out and he finally got to go to bed. ------------------------------------------------------------ This and more at [r/TrabianTellsTales](https://www.reddit.com/r/TrabianTellsTales/)	It was strange enough to be getting a knock on my door at midnight, but this was just plain out weird. I opened the door to see the face of the bane of my assistance for the past few months. Phillip Cann. He held a young girl in his arms and his face looked like how a parent who lost their kid in a mall would be. "I saved her from a party... I know this is weird, but I didn't know where else to go." The words rushed out of his mouth like running water, the girl in his arms looked like she'd been smacked across the head with a blunt object. A chair maybe? "This id my day off ya know, like I don't have to put up with you today" It was a little cold for circumsstsnces but it had been a really long weak already. He looked at me with those old eyes and even stuck out his lip like a five year old. I caved saying "Fine but if you're not out of here within the hour i'm throwing out the window." I couldn't act too nice after all he was the criminal i was hunting. I let him in and he dropped laid the girl on the couch. "So tell me why you couldn't just bring her to the hospital?" I asked as i was grabbing a first aid kit from beneath the kitchen counter. He knelt next to the girl's head and brushed her hair away from the wound. "Reasons Jane... Reasons." Vague as always but but i couldn't focus on that for now. I rushed over and started bandging up the girl's head wound. "Whatever, do you at least knoe her name" I asked he and looked away to hide his face. "Mia is her name." I finished her head and inspected the rest of her body. There was nothing to find "she's all fixed up, now. Get out of my apartment" I hadn't known what i was asking him then. But at that moment he just walked out with his head hung down and for just a moment while he was walking out he looked back with a face that seemed full of regret and pain behind it.
	[WP] The hero is enjoying a day off thanks to a rare quiet night in the city. That is until the villain shows up to her door, but carrying an unconscious woman and looking distraught. “I saved her from a party....I know this is weird, but I didn’t know who else to go to.”	"You have got to be kidding me." "Look-" "You have got to be kidding me." "I know this-" "I was having a nice evening, you know?" "Can we please talk about this somewhere other than your front step?" Alyssa glared at the raven-haired girl standing in her doorway, supporting a barely conscious brunette with considerable effort. Without another word, she turned on her heel and walked into her living room. "Close the door behind you," she ordered, curtly. The intruder did so, surprisingly meek, all things considered. "Put her on the couch." Alyssa's apartment was... cozy. The furniture was well-loved, but not ratty, and decorated with woven blankets and small, lumpy pillows. There were pictures hanging on the walls, of her family and friends. The intruder tried not to look too closely - she was, after all, already breaking the code, and it was best not to take an interest in a hero's family. "How did you find me, Nightstalker?" She winced at that name, glancing down at the girl on the couch. "Don't... use that title. Not here. Call me Natalie," she said, her voice soft. She smoothed out the girl's hair, her expression... tense, worried, scared. Alyssa's set jaw softened. "It's... just something I can do. I'm good at finding things." The heroine sighed. She looked cozy, too, dressed in a casual sweatshirt and yoga pants, her auburn hair up in a messy bun. "That's moderately terrifying," she mumbled, walking around the couch to get a look at the girl. "I know this. She was roofied. Is she... a friend of yours?" "Surprised? I'm not... her all the time. I have my own life, you know." "I'd... never considered that fact," Alyssa admitted, blushing slightly. "And she isn't.... Uh, in the know?" Natalie glanced up sharply, her green eyes suspicious. "Why are you asking so many questions?" "Hey, you came to me. If you have any problems with the way I'm doing things, you know where the door is." The two young women glared at each other for a long moment. It was Natalie who broke first, looking down at her friend as she shivered and curled up slightly. "She's... I've known her since childhood. She's not just my friend, she's my closest friend. And... I think someone figured that out." She looks up, her forehead creased and eyes watery. "She was targeted, Blackbird. For being my friend." Alyssa chewed on her lip for a moment, looking down at this villain. "Call me... Alyssa," she said, sighing softly as she made her decision. "What makes you think she was targeted? I mean, I'm sure I don't have to tell you how often young women get roofied." "I know she was targeted. I had an encounter with... someone there." "Who?" Natalie shifted, wringing her hands in her lap. "It was... the Black Dragon. Guy in charge of the Circle's trafficking branch out here. He mentioned something about keeping better track of my things, and... that was when I realized something was wrong. He's not really in my normal social circles - especially when I'm, uh... Natalie. And I'm sure the guys trying to get Nae out of there were Circle. They had the right style." Alyssa nodded, her arms crossed. "So you came to me, because...?" "I figured my place and her place were likely to be watched. You're a Hero. They wouldn't want to mess with you, not 'businessmen' like them. It's not profitable. And the repercussions could get some of the bigger villains coming down on them too. Heroes with a vendetta tend to spread the shit around." Alyssa smirked at that. "I suppose that's true. So what now?" "I... hadn't thought that far ahead. I don't know why I've attracted their attention. I don't think I've messed with any of their interests. And yet, here we are. All I want is for Naomi to be safe. That's need number one." Alyssa sighed, tapping her fingers on her bicep. "Alright. You and she can stay. But in exchange, I want in." "In?" "On whatever you end up doing about the Circle. I'm not letting you lead an unsupervised gang war across my city." Natalie glowered, jutting her jaw forward and grinding her teeth. "We're talking about a major crime syndicate here, you know? They're not going to just give up cuz you flash-bang them and knock 'em around a bit. And they definitely won't hesitate to shoot you in the line of duty. You're probably going to have to get your feathers dirty. You okay with that, little bird?" "I'll take care of my own conscience, thank you. I'm not interested in letting them do this kind of thing either. Because villains with a vendetta are even worse, because you'd kill people. So we're putting a stop to them. Together." She offered her hand. Natalie stared at it for a long moment, then reached up and grasped it, squeezing tightly. "Thanks, Hero."	It was strange enough to be getting a knock on my door at midnight, but this was just plain out weird. I opened the door to see the face of the bane of my assistance for the past few months. Phillip Cann. He held a young girl in his arms and his face looked like how a parent who lost their kid in a mall would be. "I saved her from a party... I know this is weird, but I didn't know where else to go." The words rushed out of his mouth like running water, the girl in his arms looked like she'd been smacked across the head with a blunt object. A chair maybe? "This id my day off ya know, like I don't have to put up with you today" It was a little cold for circumsstsnces but it had been a really long weak already. He looked at me with those old eyes and even stuck out his lip like a five year old. I caved saying "Fine but if you're not out of here within the hour i'm throwing out the window." I couldn't act too nice after all he was the criminal i was hunting. I let him in and he dropped laid the girl on the couch. "So tell me why you couldn't just bring her to the hospital?" I asked as i was grabbing a first aid kit from beneath the kitchen counter. He knelt next to the girl's head and brushed her hair away from the wound. "Reasons Jane... Reasons." Vague as always but but i couldn't focus on that for now. I rushed over and started bandging up the girl's head wound. "Whatever, do you at least knoe her name" I asked he and looked away to hide his face. "Mia is her name." I finished her head and inspected the rest of her body. There was nothing to find "she's all fixed up, now. Get out of my apartment" I hadn't known what i was asking him then. But at that moment he just walked out with his head hung down and for just a moment while he was walking out he looked back with a face that seemed full of regret and pain behind it.
	[WP] The hero is enjoying a day off thanks to a rare quiet night in the city. That is until the villain shows up to her door, but carrying an unconscious woman and looking distraught. “I saved her from a party....I know this is weird, but I didn’t know who else to go to.”	"...What?" What the hell is happening? "Don't just stand there like an idiot, let us in!" Shock whispers in a biting tone. Ohmygod. "Woah, okay, you have the wrong apartment Miss Supervillain. P-Pack it up before I call the cops-" "I know it's you...Bumblebee." Mother. Fucker. I quickly but quietly let the Rage Against the Machine reject in, her silver hair (dyed?) brushing past me alongside the brunette's hair. Female, Latino, looks civilian, cute pastel pink dress, braided hair-nobody who would consort with Shock except in a 'Oh god don't shoot she'll fry my brains' way. "Okay, okay, let's set her on the coffee table, nice and gentle..." I direct Shock the same way I would a civ in this kind of situation. I'm not sure whether I should be thankful or not Mom isn't home. I summon the family crossbow, Stinger to my hand and let the family magic turn my hair from black to gold. I point at her with the hand-me-down-dragon-killing-weapon in one hand and communicator in the other. Shock raises a hand crackling with electricity in response. "Okay, give me one good reason I shouldn't call The Guard right now." I demand, trying to keep cool cause oh my god she knows my secret identity and this could all be a trap. "I'm a quick bugzapper and know how to scatter your brains all over this room faster than you could blink!" Shock answered, predictably. Not so predictably however, she glanced down at the girl on the table. Her face softened. "Also...I'm willing to negotiate for her sake." "Why?" “Oh what, you brand me a villain and suddenly I can’t have a heart?” “You self-righteously slaughter dozens, criminal or not.” “I’m a more efficient version of you.” “You’re a girl living a twisted revenge fantasy.” We stare each other down. The Guard communicator sparks in my hand and smokes. Dammit, third replacement this month. Okay, getting heated, need to diffuse… I lower my eyes down at the girl again. “Why?” Shock sighed. “I was out to kill a magic drug dealer. He used the party to experiment a new drug he called ‘Sleeping Beauty’. I offed the fucker, but not before he got her drink. I just...she has a future, I heard she’s applying to Earlton. Please...June.” I bite my lip. “...Okay, tell you what, I revive her, but in exchange, I wipe your memory of my identity.” Shock frowns, then sighs again, more agitated. I think we’re going to fight, that this will be like last time I caught her on the highway mid some crazed extrajudicial killing bender, but then she shockingly says: “Fine. I know you’d help anyway, but fine, bitch.”	It was strange enough to be getting a knock on my door at midnight, but this was just plain out weird. I opened the door to see the face of the bane of my assistance for the past few months. Phillip Cann. He held a young girl in his arms and his face looked like how a parent who lost their kid in a mall would be. "I saved her from a party... I know this is weird, but I didn't know where else to go." The words rushed out of his mouth like running water, the girl in his arms looked like she'd been smacked across the head with a blunt object. A chair maybe? "This id my day off ya know, like I don't have to put up with you today" It was a little cold for circumsstsnces but it had been a really long weak already. He looked at me with those old eyes and even stuck out his lip like a five year old. I caved saying "Fine but if you're not out of here within the hour i'm throwing out the window." I couldn't act too nice after all he was the criminal i was hunting. I let him in and he dropped laid the girl on the couch. "So tell me why you couldn't just bring her to the hospital?" I asked as i was grabbing a first aid kit from beneath the kitchen counter. He knelt next to the girl's head and brushed her hair away from the wound. "Reasons Jane... Reasons." Vague as always but but i couldn't focus on that for now. I rushed over and started bandging up the girl's head wound. "Whatever, do you at least knoe her name" I asked he and looked away to hide his face. "Mia is her name." I finished her head and inspected the rest of her body. There was nothing to find "she's all fixed up, now. Get out of my apartment" I hadn't known what i was asking him then. But at that moment he just walked out with his head hung down and for just a moment while he was walking out he looked back with a face that seemed full of regret and pain behind it.
	[WP] The hero is enjoying a day off thanks to a rare quiet night in the city. That is until the villain shows up to her door, but carrying an unconscious woman and looking distraught. “I saved her from a party....I know this is weird, but I didn’t know who else to go to.”	The young lad, for once, had a very pleasant night. Nothing out of the ordinary but he still won't let his guard down and carry his sword, even at his own home. He decided for a nightly stroll but was greeted by his masked enemy, the Duke of Tricks, at his doorstep. He took a step back and on guard readying for an attack. "My, my, is this how you treat your guest, young hero?" "Duke of Tricks! Why are you here!?" "Just a little visit for my sweet little toy. But I'm not here for our play time. No, I'm here to send you a little gift from me to you." In his hand was a handkerchief. With a flick of it comes a floating unconscious woman. "Worry her not, she is unharmed." as he gently lay her down on the hard wood floor. "And you expect me to believe that coming from you?" "Throughout our battles it has only between us. Hostages are too uncivilized for me." "And what's your deal with her now? Some sort of another trick? A game?" "You ask to many questions. Stop worry about me and start worry about her. Her state was like this when I found her, right by a party, the ruckus those hooligans make. Knowinglly, I know we had our differences but tend this girl for me. She is rather interesting. "As if I'd say no to anyone, but this one's different because it's you. Why?" "Believe me child, I would love to elaborate but that would ruin the surprise won't it? I'll give you a hint though. It involves you, her, and A GRAND SHOW THIS KINGDOM WILL NEVER FORGET. Best part is that I get to have the best seat." "Wait, what do you mean best-" "Ta~Ta~" And just like that, he vanished under the veil of smoke with his usual trademark doll of him, smirking at his escape. This is my first time, I hope you liked it.	It was strange enough to be getting a knock on my door at midnight, but this was just plain out weird. I opened the door to see the face of the bane of my assistance for the past few months. Phillip Cann. He held a young girl in his arms and his face looked like how a parent who lost their kid in a mall would be. "I saved her from a party... I know this is weird, but I didn't know where else to go." The words rushed out of his mouth like running water, the girl in his arms looked like she'd been smacked across the head with a blunt object. A chair maybe? "This id my day off ya know, like I don't have to put up with you today" It was a little cold for circumsstsnces but it had been a really long weak already. He looked at me with those old eyes and even stuck out his lip like a five year old. I caved saying "Fine but if you're not out of here within the hour i'm throwing out the window." I couldn't act too nice after all he was the criminal i was hunting. I let him in and he dropped laid the girl on the couch. "So tell me why you couldn't just bring her to the hospital?" I asked as i was grabbing a first aid kit from beneath the kitchen counter. He knelt next to the girl's head and brushed her hair away from the wound. "Reasons Jane... Reasons." Vague as always but but i couldn't focus on that for now. I rushed over and started bandging up the girl's head wound. "Whatever, do you at least knoe her name" I asked he and looked away to hide his face. "Mia is her name." I finished her head and inspected the rest of her body. There was nothing to find "she's all fixed up, now. Get out of my apartment" I hadn't known what i was asking him then. But at that moment he just walked out with his head hung down and for just a moment while he was walking out he looked back with a face that seemed full of regret and pain behind it.
	[WP] The hero is enjoying a day off thanks to a rare quiet night in the city. That is until the villain shows up to her door, but carrying an unconscious woman and looking distraught. “I saved her from a party....I know this is weird, but I didn’t know who else to go to.”	"Maria!" She shouts and looks at him with fire in her eyes. "Now, before you jump to conclusions I... ugh!" The villain floats inches from the ground, choked by some invisible force. With her right hand our hero telepathically draws the unconscious young lady into her home and with her right she drags the villain struggling through the air. He falls to the ground and swallows gulps of air clutching at his throat. "God! Damn! You! Woman!" He screams, breathes, screams, brrathes until his repiration comes to order. "Talk!" She lifts him up again, his arms sprawled to the sides. "Mesmer! What the fuck are you doing?! This is Maria! Do you really think I would hurt her?! Think woman!" He appeals to her desperately. Hurt, but not by the psychic pressure but by her pressumption of his misdeed. She lowers him gently. Magnus is a heinous villain with blood all the way up to his elbows, but Maria was the one person she knows he wouldn't hurt. Couldn't hurt. "Explain this." She says to him in a gentler yet wary tone. "I was, following her, as usual. Keeping an eye on her." Magnus looks sheepish. Almost like the young boy she knew. "She went to that club, Aces. Terrible place. She has a few drinks, has a bit of fun. Regular stuff. Then suddenly her knees buckle and she topples over. A big guy tried to carry her away." He almost smiled, she saw it. A hungry feral look came and then went on his face like a flash. Magnus of the many faces. She didn't have to ask about the big guy, she knew. "And you took her here? Why?" "God damn it Mesmer she's your sister! Our sister! Besides where would I take her? To father? He would have turned me to ashes." She bites her tongue. He doesn't know about father yet. Best he doesn't know for now. "Why didn't she use her powers?" Maria had some incredible gifts, not least of all future sight. How could this have happened? "Thats the thing Mesmer. Whoever came after her knew of her powers and nullified them. This is something I thought you might be interested in." There it is again, a flicker of another face. A concerned one? Calculating? You can never tell with Magnus. Maria stirs. They both look her way. "Bomb! A bomb! Get down!" Boooooom!	It was strange enough to be getting a knock on my door at midnight, but this was just plain out weird. I opened the door to see the face of the bane of my assistance for the past few months. Phillip Cann. He held a young girl in his arms and his face looked like how a parent who lost their kid in a mall would be. "I saved her from a party... I know this is weird, but I didn't know where else to go." The words rushed out of his mouth like running water, the girl in his arms looked like she'd been smacked across the head with a blunt object. A chair maybe? "This id my day off ya know, like I don't have to put up with you today" It was a little cold for circumsstsnces but it had been a really long weak already. He looked at me with those old eyes and even stuck out his lip like a five year old. I caved saying "Fine but if you're not out of here within the hour i'm throwing out the window." I couldn't act too nice after all he was the criminal i was hunting. I let him in and he dropped laid the girl on the couch. "So tell me why you couldn't just bring her to the hospital?" I asked as i was grabbing a first aid kit from beneath the kitchen counter. He knelt next to the girl's head and brushed her hair away from the wound. "Reasons Jane... Reasons." Vague as always but but i couldn't focus on that for now. I rushed over and started bandging up the girl's head wound. "Whatever, do you at least knoe her name" I asked he and looked away to hide his face. "Mia is her name." I finished her head and inspected the rest of her body. There was nothing to find "she's all fixed up, now. Get out of my apartment" I hadn't known what i was asking him then. But at that moment he just walked out with his head hung down and for just a moment while he was walking out he looked back with a face that seemed full of regret and pain behind it.
	[WP] The hero is enjoying a day off thanks to a rare quiet night in the city. That is until the villain shows up to her door, but carrying an unconscious woman and looking distraught. “I saved her from a party....I know this is weird, but I didn’t know who else to go to.”	Angie froze, doorknob in her left hand, glass of wine in her right. “Clayton,” she hissed. Tossing the wine aside, she dove to her right for the shield she kept there, rolled, and came up crouched low behind it, bracing for his attack. “Angela, please.” His pained voice cracked. Why isn’t he attacking? Gingerly, she peered over the top of her shield. His broad silhouette filled the door frame. His face tear-streaked, he struggled with something heavy in his arms. Not something. Someone. “Ruby?!?” Her shield clattered to the floor, and she closed the distance between them in a single leap. “WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER?” she screamed, effortlessly taking Ruby’s limp body from him. “Nothing,” he croaked. “I saved her from a party… I know this is weird, but I didn’t know who else to go to.” On her floor, Angie cradled the young woman in her arms. Fighting tears, her fingers searched frantically for a pulse as her eyes found the labored rising and falling of Ruby's chest. There. Slow, but there. She eyed the blue tinge around Ruby’s lips. “NARCAN!” she barked at Clayton. “In the bathroom, above the sink!” Clayton jumped, but thankful for direction, he hurried down the hall. Angie gently laid her baby girl on the floor. She hadn’t seen Ruby in over a year, ever since that awful fight the evening of Ruby’s 18th birthday. I told her no drugs under my roof. Where had she been? Had she been using all this time? Clayton returned with the Narcan. Angie tilted Ruby’s head back. Holding Ruby’s mouth shut with her left thumb, she pinched Ruby’s right nostril closed with her index finger, and using her right hand, she inserted the tip of the Narcan in Ruby’s left nostril. She pressed the plunger. Now we wait. Angie carefully rolled Ruby onto her right side, tucking her hand under her head in the recovery position. Clayton knelt down beside her. Wiping tears away with the back of her hand, Angie looked over her daughter’s body, into the eyes of her arch-nemesis. “How did you know?” He looked down, almost ashamedly, “People talk. I hear more than most, given my position.” Angie nodded, “Well, thank you for bringing her home, but I think you should leave now.” He lifted pleading blue eyes to meet hers, “Angie, please,” he said. “She’s my daughter, too.”	It was strange enough to be getting a knock on my door at midnight, but this was just plain out weird. I opened the door to see the face of the bane of my assistance for the past few months. Phillip Cann. He held a young girl in his arms and his face looked like how a parent who lost their kid in a mall would be. "I saved her from a party... I know this is weird, but I didn't know where else to go." The words rushed out of his mouth like running water, the girl in his arms looked like she'd been smacked across the head with a blunt object. A chair maybe? "This id my day off ya know, like I don't have to put up with you today" It was a little cold for circumsstsnces but it had been a really long weak already. He looked at me with those old eyes and even stuck out his lip like a five year old. I caved saying "Fine but if you're not out of here within the hour i'm throwing out the window." I couldn't act too nice after all he was the criminal i was hunting. I let him in and he dropped laid the girl on the couch. "So tell me why you couldn't just bring her to the hospital?" I asked as i was grabbing a first aid kit from beneath the kitchen counter. He knelt next to the girl's head and brushed her hair away from the wound. "Reasons Jane... Reasons." Vague as always but but i couldn't focus on that for now. I rushed over and started bandging up the girl's head wound. "Whatever, do you at least knoe her name" I asked he and looked away to hide his face. "Mia is her name." I finished her head and inspected the rest of her body. There was nothing to find "she's all fixed up, now. Get out of my apartment" I hadn't known what i was asking him then. But at that moment he just walked out with his head hung down and for just a moment while he was walking out he looked back with a face that seemed full of regret and pain behind it.
	[WP] The hero is enjoying a day off thanks to a rare quiet night in the city. That is until the villain shows up to her door, but carrying an unconscious woman and looking distraught. “I saved her from a party....I know this is weird, but I didn’t know who else to go to.”	Pounding on my door; then, a low voice: “Angel!” Someone in search of a hero, then. I didn’t recognize the man through the peephole, nor the teenaged girl slumped against him. He knocked again. “I can see your shadow through the peephole,” he said. “She needs your help.” I opened the door as far as the chain allowed. It was supposed to be my night off. I’d just helped the police round up the leadership of the Vipers, a nasty gang with connections to international arms smugglers. And Dr. Peterman had promised not to give out my home address anymore. “Who are you?” He looked confused. “Huh? Angel, you know me.” He shifted the girl to point at his face. There was something vaguely familiar about the shape of his jaw. He sighed and covered his eyes with his hand. “Firewalker!” I fell back on instinct, lighting my hands in cold white flame. I could feel the flames at my back, too, like wings. That face—albeit obscured by a mask—was on every wall of every precinct in the city. Dr. Peterman had sent me against him twice already, though he’d always managed to evade me. And now he stood outside my door. A few heartbeats passed, as I waited for Firewalker to burst through the security chain and attack. Then I heard the unmistakeable chunky gurgle and splat of someone vomiting. “Helen, I didn’t have anywhere else to bring her.” The flames from my hands dissipated almost without conscious thought. He knew my name. Firewalker knew my name and where I lived, but he hadn’t come to fight me. I reapproached the door. “What’s wrong with her?” The girl was pale, her eyes unfocused. “I found her at a party. I think... something bad was going to happen to her.” Firewalker looked into my eyes, then. “She just needs a safe place to sleep it off.” Against my better judgment, I let them in. Firewalker half-dragged the girl to my peeling pleather couch. “How do you know my real name?” I asked, reaching for the Advil in my kitchen cabinet. “I knew you... before. I mean, I remember you. I used to be a security guard at BRI. You signed in to visit Dr. Peterman every Tuesday at 3.” I filled a glass at the sink. “Were you there, when—” Even four months later, I struggled to put into words what had happened to me in the lab that day. Dr. Peterman was mentoring me through my thesis, and that day he’d wanted to show me his new project. Then— pain, and unbearable light, and screaming, and the white flames. “Yeah.” Firewalker interrupted. “Yeah, I was there. How do you think this happened?” He shook his hand with a snap and his fingers ignited in yellow flame. I stared. “You’re like me?” He stared back. “I thought you saw me at First Union Bank. And at the Mayor’s victory party.” “Well I knew you were an arsonist but I didn’t know you were like me.” Firewalker frowned. “I’m not an arsonist.” Then he hissed a little and shook the flames out again. I set the water and pills down next to the girl. “Your flames hurt you?” I took his hand to examine it. The pads of his fingers were puffy and shiny. “Uh... yeah.” His voice sounded strangled, and I felt uncomfortably close. I dropped his hand. “Yours... don’t?” “No. Never.” The girl moaned a little, then, and Firewalker turned to check on her. “You think I’m an arsonist?” He asked. “You set First Union on fire.” I reminded him. “I thought BRI was keeping evidence in a safe deposit box. No one got hurt.” “You hurt all those people at the Mayor’s.” I heard my own voice rising. “And you killed all the people on that barge last month.” “I didn’t have anything to do with the barge fire.” Firewalker snapped back. “And the Mayor’s? I burned my way into the back room, sure. But then you set the whole ballroom on fire. I appreciated the distraction while I escaped, but that was pretty reckless.” “I wasn’t trying to help you escape! I was trying to corner you!” Firewalker took a big step back. “You... you wanted to capture me? Why?” “You’re at the top of every most wanted list! Dr. Peterman said—” Firewalker exploded. “You’re actually working with that guy? After what he did to you? I thought you were infiltrating BRI to bring them down, but you’re actually just their... their goon?” I felt queasy. “I’m... I fight crime.” “Helen... BRI is a front company for a major criminal enterprise. They’ve been experimenting on people for years. They’ve bought off the Mayor and half the police. They’re exterminating the Vipers, though I haven’t figured out why yet. I mean, good riddance, but there’s got to be some profit in it for them.” I sat down, hard. Firewalker suddenly looked horrified. “Did you kill the others on purpose? Jenny and Ty and Chance?” “I fight villains.” I said weakly. “You. You’re a villain.” “Who told you I was a villain?” Firewalker almost looked sorry for me. “Who told you that you were a hero, Helen?” *Edited to (attempt to) fix formatting.	It was strange enough to be getting a knock on my door at midnight, but this was just plain out weird. I opened the door to see the face of the bane of my assistance for the past few months. Phillip Cann. He held a young girl in his arms and his face looked like how a parent who lost their kid in a mall would be. "I saved her from a party... I know this is weird, but I didn't know where else to go." The words rushed out of his mouth like running water, the girl in his arms looked like she'd been smacked across the head with a blunt object. A chair maybe? "This id my day off ya know, like I don't have to put up with you today" It was a little cold for circumsstsnces but it had been a really long weak already. He looked at me with those old eyes and even stuck out his lip like a five year old. I caved saying "Fine but if you're not out of here within the hour i'm throwing out the window." I couldn't act too nice after all he was the criminal i was hunting. I let him in and he dropped laid the girl on the couch. "So tell me why you couldn't just bring her to the hospital?" I asked as i was grabbing a first aid kit from beneath the kitchen counter. He knelt next to the girl's head and brushed her hair away from the wound. "Reasons Jane... Reasons." Vague as always but but i couldn't focus on that for now. I rushed over and started bandging up the girl's head wound. "Whatever, do you at least knoe her name" I asked he and looked away to hide his face. "Mia is her name." I finished her head and inspected the rest of her body. There was nothing to find "she's all fixed up, now. Get out of my apartment" I hadn't known what i was asking him then. But at that moment he just walked out with his head hung down and for just a moment while he was walking out he looked back with a face that seemed full of regret and pain behind it.
	[WP] The hero is enjoying a day off thanks to a rare quiet night in the city. That is until the villain shows up to her door, but carrying an unconscious woman and looking distraught. “I saved her from a party....I know this is weird, but I didn’t know who else to go to.”	"You have got to be kidding me." "Look-" "You have got to be kidding me." "I know this-" "I was having a nice evening, you know?" "Can we please talk about this somewhere other than your front step?" Alyssa glared at the raven-haired girl standing in her doorway, supporting a barely conscious brunette with considerable effort. Without another word, she turned on her heel and walked into her living room. "Close the door behind you," she ordered, curtly. The intruder did so, surprisingly meek, all things considered. "Put her on the couch." Alyssa's apartment was... cozy. The furniture was well-loved, but not ratty, and decorated with woven blankets and small, lumpy pillows. There were pictures hanging on the walls, of her family and friends. The intruder tried not to look too closely - she was, after all, already breaking the code, and it was best not to take an interest in a hero's family. "How did you find me, Nightstalker?" She winced at that name, glancing down at the girl on the couch. "Don't... use that title. Not here. Call me Natalie," she said, her voice soft. She smoothed out the girl's hair, her expression... tense, worried, scared. Alyssa's set jaw softened. "It's... just something I can do. I'm good at finding things." The heroine sighed. She looked cozy, too, dressed in a casual sweatshirt and yoga pants, her auburn hair up in a messy bun. "That's moderately terrifying," she mumbled, walking around the couch to get a look at the girl. "I know this. She was roofied. Is she... a friend of yours?" "Surprised? I'm not... her all the time. I have my own life, you know." "I'd... never considered that fact," Alyssa admitted, blushing slightly. "And she isn't.... Uh, in the know?" Natalie glanced up sharply, her green eyes suspicious. "Why are you asking so many questions?" "Hey, you came to me. If you have any problems with the way I'm doing things, you know where the door is." The two young women glared at each other for a long moment. It was Natalie who broke first, looking down at her friend as she shivered and curled up slightly. "She's... I've known her since childhood. She's not just my friend, she's my closest friend. And... I think someone figured that out." She looks up, her forehead creased and eyes watery. "She was targeted, Blackbird. For being my friend." Alyssa chewed on her lip for a moment, looking down at this villain. "Call me... Alyssa," she said, sighing softly as she made her decision. "What makes you think she was targeted? I mean, I'm sure I don't have to tell you how often young women get roofied." "I know she was targeted. I had an encounter with... someone there." "Who?" Natalie shifted, wringing her hands in her lap. "It was... the Black Dragon. Guy in charge of the Circle's trafficking branch out here. He mentioned something about keeping better track of my things, and... that was when I realized something was wrong. He's not really in my normal social circles - especially when I'm, uh... Natalie. And I'm sure the guys trying to get Nae out of there were Circle. They had the right style." Alyssa nodded, her arms crossed. "So you came to me, because...?" "I figured my place and her place were likely to be watched. You're a Hero. They wouldn't want to mess with you, not 'businessmen' like them. It's not profitable. And the repercussions could get some of the bigger villains coming down on them too. Heroes with a vendetta tend to spread the shit around." Alyssa smirked at that. "I suppose that's true. So what now?" "I... hadn't thought that far ahead. I don't know why I've attracted their attention. I don't think I've messed with any of their interests. And yet, here we are. All I want is for Naomi to be safe. That's need number one." Alyssa sighed, tapping her fingers on her bicep. "Alright. You and she can stay. But in exchange, I want in." "In?" "On whatever you end up doing about the Circle. I'm not letting you lead an unsupervised gang war across my city." Natalie glowered, jutting her jaw forward and grinding her teeth. "We're talking about a major crime syndicate here, you know? They're not going to just give up cuz you flash-bang them and knock 'em around a bit. And they definitely won't hesitate to shoot you in the line of duty. You're probably going to have to get your feathers dirty. You okay with that, little bird?" "I'll take care of my own conscience, thank you. I'm not interested in letting them do this kind of thing either. Because villains with a vendetta are even worse, because you'd kill people. So we're putting a stop to them. Together." She offered her hand. Natalie stared at it for a long moment, then reached up and grasped it, squeezing tightly. "Thanks, Hero."	Pronounciation of names: Mäo - It sounds like Mo, if you don't listen hard enough. You can use that. Ervi - Err-vee Cyko - Like Psycho Kiongozi - Kee-on go-zee It was a quiet fairly normal day. Well, as normal as it could get, in Elizabeth Mäo Munson's house. Ever since Elizabeth met her two friends at age thirteen, her life was never boring. Considering one was a grim reaper, the other a poltergeist. You'd need to know more about this world to get this. But don't worry, it'll be explained soon. The grim reaper that was nicknamed Reaper, as his real name was impossible to pronounce, wasn't really the source of the fun, as he usually stayed quiet. He never really talked, Elizabeth noticed. But being immortal might do that to a powerful being such as him. Elizabeth became annoyed as she sat down onto her armchair, holding her book. Shame Reaper's powers weren't available for any of them. There is always a bigger fish in the sea, for Reaper, that meant whoever ruled the underworld. Whatever the punishment would be, it would not be good. And Reaper was a stickler for the rules, or whatever. No, Reaper was more the source of good ideas. The mischievous poltergeist, on the other hand... Sam, was his name. Or so he told her. Such a simple name, for such an odd being. The white haired ball of mischief was the one entertaining. And frustrating. The explosives in Elizabeth's basement were very unnerving. Yes, Sam was never boring, though he was always bored, which can explain the explosives for you. Though Elizabeth was always on edge whenever she went past the stairs leading to the basement, afraid the TNT might somehow go off, she didn't mind Sam as much as you'd think she'd do. Their friendship was odd. Elizabeth's black cat, Kitty, jumped onto the armrest, carefully sitting down with a smile on her adorable face. Another one of Elizabeth's friends, whom she met when she was five, was also just as odd as the rest of them. You see, the cat could talk. It was very useful in terms of communicating, yes. But for people that never saw such a thing, it was sometimes a shock. But Elizabeth never got that, those people's villages were raided nearly every day by orcs on skinny horses. A talking cat was nowhere near as weird as that. Elizabeth smiled, petting her friend as she opened up her book exactly where she left off. She wouldn't have minded, anyway. She wasn't exactly the most normal human, either. Nor was she an actual human. Perhaps a hybrid was a better way to put it. That was one of the reasons Kitty became her friend. She was half mesuki, half human. You've never heard of Mesukians, have you? It's not very complicated, though there is definitely much more to it; Mesukians are basically just anthropomorphic cats with human intelligence. Her mother was a Mesukian, Elizabeth inherited her mother's ears and a tail. Though that was basically it, aside from sharper senses and sharper teeth. Everything else she got from her father (Brown hair, green eyes, fair skin..), which, may he rest in peace, was killed by the villain of this story only a few months before Elizabeth turned one. For a stupid reason, too. Racism, it's never a good thing. And it's definitely not a good reason to kill anyone. Noticing that her hands started shaking, she took a deep breath, looking outside of the window. The landscape was beautiful. Although she lived in her house for quite a while already - her mother moved out only a couple of months ago, Elizabeth rolled her eyes - it never failed to amaze her. It was unbelievable that there even was a war back then, that her father even contributed in it (That is how he met Elizabeth's mother). The world seemed as if it was never a war zone. Speaking of the war, it was a tragic piece of history that Elizabeth wasn't happy to remember, but for your sake, she was willing to do just that. To put it simply, this world as you've probably already realized, wasn't normal. It was magical. And although there were modern things flying around, the times were still many years behind of the Earth. Magical beings filled this world, only being able to exist thanks to the powersource that has been guarded by the most powerful beings of this world for the past many years. Humans were probably the only ones that haven't been able to even brew a functioning potion, which angered them and they demanded that they get access to the powersource. But that wasn't going to happen, humans would quickly get greedy and demand more, and thus the war started. Humans lost, mind you. You know, that caused a lot of problems. Racism, more wars (though way smaller ones), raids, theft and much more. Which caused Elizabeth to get bullied for being both of those two races. A magical being and an ordinary human. She never let it get to her, though. Elizabeth paused at a particular part in the book she was reading, she read: "There are several types of magical beings, much like there are several types of birds, fish and much more. They divide into monsters..." Monsters. A monster killed her father. Why, you ask? Racism. I've already told you. But not just that. Monsters have lived in fear for many, many years. Simply because their ancestors have done something bad in the past. They live through harsh situations nearly every day and although Elizabeth sometimes pities them, what they are doing to try and help themselves is unacceptable, one of the many reasons for her becoming a hero, in her eyes anyway. What angered them was when the war ended. Humans never really were punished, aside from a few racist comments here and there, maybe a few punches from school bullies, blegh. They did something much worse than whatever monsters did, they demanded access to something that half, if not most of the world's population depended on and when they didn't get it, they started a war. It wasn't fair. However, once again, killing was no better than what humans and other types of magical beings were doing to them. Elizabeth stood behind that. And so did Reaper, Sam and Kitty.
	[WP] The hero is enjoying a day off thanks to a rare quiet night in the city. That is until the villain shows up to her door, but carrying an unconscious woman and looking distraught. “I saved her from a party....I know this is weird, but I didn’t know who else to go to.”	"...What?" What the hell is happening? "Don't just stand there like an idiot, let us in!" Shock whispers in a biting tone. Ohmygod. "Woah, okay, you have the wrong apartment Miss Supervillain. P-Pack it up before I call the cops-" "I know it's you...Bumblebee." Mother. Fucker. I quickly but quietly let the Rage Against the Machine reject in, her silver hair (dyed?) brushing past me alongside the brunette's hair. Female, Latino, looks civilian, cute pastel pink dress, braided hair-nobody who would consort with Shock except in a 'Oh god don't shoot she'll fry my brains' way. "Okay, okay, let's set her on the coffee table, nice and gentle..." I direct Shock the same way I would a civ in this kind of situation. I'm not sure whether I should be thankful or not Mom isn't home. I summon the family crossbow, Stinger to my hand and let the family magic turn my hair from black to gold. I point at her with the hand-me-down-dragon-killing-weapon in one hand and communicator in the other. Shock raises a hand crackling with electricity in response. "Okay, give me one good reason I shouldn't call The Guard right now." I demand, trying to keep cool cause oh my god she knows my secret identity and this could all be a trap. "I'm a quick bugzapper and know how to scatter your brains all over this room faster than you could blink!" Shock answered, predictably. Not so predictably however, she glanced down at the girl on the table. Her face softened. "Also...I'm willing to negotiate for her sake." "Why?" “Oh what, you brand me a villain and suddenly I can’t have a heart?” “You self-righteously slaughter dozens, criminal or not.” “I’m a more efficient version of you.” “You’re a girl living a twisted revenge fantasy.” We stare each other down. The Guard communicator sparks in my hand and smokes. Dammit, third replacement this month. Okay, getting heated, need to diffuse… I lower my eyes down at the girl again. “Why?” Shock sighed. “I was out to kill a magic drug dealer. He used the party to experiment a new drug he called ‘Sleeping Beauty’. I offed the fucker, but not before he got her drink. I just...she has a future, I heard she’s applying to Earlton. Please...June.” I bite my lip. “...Okay, tell you what, I revive her, but in exchange, I wipe your memory of my identity.” Shock frowns, then sighs again, more agitated. I think we’re going to fight, that this will be like last time I caught her on the highway mid some crazed extrajudicial killing bender, but then she shockingly says: “Fine. I know you’d help anyway, but fine, bitch.”	Pronounciation of names: Mäo - It sounds like Mo, if you don't listen hard enough. You can use that. Ervi - Err-vee Cyko - Like Psycho Kiongozi - Kee-on go-zee It was a quiet fairly normal day. Well, as normal as it could get, in Elizabeth Mäo Munson's house. Ever since Elizabeth met her two friends at age thirteen, her life was never boring. Considering one was a grim reaper, the other a poltergeist. You'd need to know more about this world to get this. But don't worry, it'll be explained soon. The grim reaper that was nicknamed Reaper, as his real name was impossible to pronounce, wasn't really the source of the fun, as he usually stayed quiet. He never really talked, Elizabeth noticed. But being immortal might do that to a powerful being such as him. Elizabeth became annoyed as she sat down onto her armchair, holding her book. Shame Reaper's powers weren't available for any of them. There is always a bigger fish in the sea, for Reaper, that meant whoever ruled the underworld. Whatever the punishment would be, it would not be good. And Reaper was a stickler for the rules, or whatever. No, Reaper was more the source of good ideas. The mischievous poltergeist, on the other hand... Sam, was his name. Or so he told her. Such a simple name, for such an odd being. The white haired ball of mischief was the one entertaining. And frustrating. The explosives in Elizabeth's basement were very unnerving. Yes, Sam was never boring, though he was always bored, which can explain the explosives for you. Though Elizabeth was always on edge whenever she went past the stairs leading to the basement, afraid the TNT might somehow go off, she didn't mind Sam as much as you'd think she'd do. Their friendship was odd. Elizabeth's black cat, Kitty, jumped onto the armrest, carefully sitting down with a smile on her adorable face. Another one of Elizabeth's friends, whom she met when she was five, was also just as odd as the rest of them. You see, the cat could talk. It was very useful in terms of communicating, yes. But for people that never saw such a thing, it was sometimes a shock. But Elizabeth never got that, those people's villages were raided nearly every day by orcs on skinny horses. A talking cat was nowhere near as weird as that. Elizabeth smiled, petting her friend as she opened up her book exactly where she left off. She wouldn't have minded, anyway. She wasn't exactly the most normal human, either. Nor was she an actual human. Perhaps a hybrid was a better way to put it. That was one of the reasons Kitty became her friend. She was half mesuki, half human. You've never heard of Mesukians, have you? It's not very complicated, though there is definitely much more to it; Mesukians are basically just anthropomorphic cats with human intelligence. Her mother was a Mesukian, Elizabeth inherited her mother's ears and a tail. Though that was basically it, aside from sharper senses and sharper teeth. Everything else she got from her father (Brown hair, green eyes, fair skin..), which, may he rest in peace, was killed by the villain of this story only a few months before Elizabeth turned one. For a stupid reason, too. Racism, it's never a good thing. And it's definitely not a good reason to kill anyone. Noticing that her hands started shaking, she took a deep breath, looking outside of the window. The landscape was beautiful. Although she lived in her house for quite a while already - her mother moved out only a couple of months ago, Elizabeth rolled her eyes - it never failed to amaze her. It was unbelievable that there even was a war back then, that her father even contributed in it (That is how he met Elizabeth's mother). The world seemed as if it was never a war zone. Speaking of the war, it was a tragic piece of history that Elizabeth wasn't happy to remember, but for your sake, she was willing to do just that. To put it simply, this world as you've probably already realized, wasn't normal. It was magical. And although there were modern things flying around, the times were still many years behind of the Earth. Magical beings filled this world, only being able to exist thanks to the powersource that has been guarded by the most powerful beings of this world for the past many years. Humans were probably the only ones that haven't been able to even brew a functioning potion, which angered them and they demanded that they get access to the powersource. But that wasn't going to happen, humans would quickly get greedy and demand more, and thus the war started. Humans lost, mind you. You know, that caused a lot of problems. Racism, more wars (though way smaller ones), raids, theft and much more. Which caused Elizabeth to get bullied for being both of those two races. A magical being and an ordinary human. She never let it get to her, though. Elizabeth paused at a particular part in the book she was reading, she read: "There are several types of magical beings, much like there are several types of birds, fish and much more. They divide into monsters..." Monsters. A monster killed her father. Why, you ask? Racism. I've already told you. But not just that. Monsters have lived in fear for many, many years. Simply because their ancestors have done something bad in the past. They live through harsh situations nearly every day and although Elizabeth sometimes pities them, what they are doing to try and help themselves is unacceptable, one of the many reasons for her becoming a hero, in her eyes anyway. What angered them was when the war ended. Humans never really were punished, aside from a few racist comments here and there, maybe a few punches from school bullies, blegh. They did something much worse than whatever monsters did, they demanded access to something that half, if not most of the world's population depended on and when they didn't get it, they started a war. It wasn't fair. However, once again, killing was no better than what humans and other types of magical beings were doing to them. Elizabeth stood behind that. And so did Reaper, Sam and Kitty.
	[WP] The hero is enjoying a day off thanks to a rare quiet night in the city. That is until the villain shows up to her door, but carrying an unconscious woman and looking distraught. “I saved her from a party....I know this is weird, but I didn’t know who else to go to.”	"You have got to be kidding me." "Look-" "You have got to be kidding me." "I know this-" "I was having a nice evening, you know?" "Can we please talk about this somewhere other than your front step?" Alyssa glared at the raven-haired girl standing in her doorway, supporting a barely conscious brunette with considerable effort. Without another word, she turned on her heel and walked into her living room. "Close the door behind you," she ordered, curtly. The intruder did so, surprisingly meek, all things considered. "Put her on the couch." Alyssa's apartment was... cozy. The furniture was well-loved, but not ratty, and decorated with woven blankets and small, lumpy pillows. There were pictures hanging on the walls, of her family and friends. The intruder tried not to look too closely - she was, after all, already breaking the code, and it was best not to take an interest in a hero's family. "How did you find me, Nightstalker?" She winced at that name, glancing down at the girl on the couch. "Don't... use that title. Not here. Call me Natalie," she said, her voice soft. She smoothed out the girl's hair, her expression... tense, worried, scared. Alyssa's set jaw softened. "It's... just something I can do. I'm good at finding things." The heroine sighed. She looked cozy, too, dressed in a casual sweatshirt and yoga pants, her auburn hair up in a messy bun. "That's moderately terrifying," she mumbled, walking around the couch to get a look at the girl. "I know this. She was roofied. Is she... a friend of yours?" "Surprised? I'm not... her all the time. I have my own life, you know." "I'd... never considered that fact," Alyssa admitted, blushing slightly. "And she isn't.... Uh, in the know?" Natalie glanced up sharply, her green eyes suspicious. "Why are you asking so many questions?" "Hey, you came to me. If you have any problems with the way I'm doing things, you know where the door is." The two young women glared at each other for a long moment. It was Natalie who broke first, looking down at her friend as she shivered and curled up slightly. "She's... I've known her since childhood. She's not just my friend, she's my closest friend. And... I think someone figured that out." She looks up, her forehead creased and eyes watery. "She was targeted, Blackbird. For being my friend." Alyssa chewed on her lip for a moment, looking down at this villain. "Call me... Alyssa," she said, sighing softly as she made her decision. "What makes you think she was targeted? I mean, I'm sure I don't have to tell you how often young women get roofied." "I know she was targeted. I had an encounter with... someone there." "Who?" Natalie shifted, wringing her hands in her lap. "It was... the Black Dragon. Guy in charge of the Circle's trafficking branch out here. He mentioned something about keeping better track of my things, and... that was when I realized something was wrong. He's not really in my normal social circles - especially when I'm, uh... Natalie. And I'm sure the guys trying to get Nae out of there were Circle. They had the right style." Alyssa nodded, her arms crossed. "So you came to me, because...?" "I figured my place and her place were likely to be watched. You're a Hero. They wouldn't want to mess with you, not 'businessmen' like them. It's not profitable. And the repercussions could get some of the bigger villains coming down on them too. Heroes with a vendetta tend to spread the shit around." Alyssa smirked at that. "I suppose that's true. So what now?" "I... hadn't thought that far ahead. I don't know why I've attracted their attention. I don't think I've messed with any of their interests. And yet, here we are. All I want is for Naomi to be safe. That's need number one." Alyssa sighed, tapping her fingers on her bicep. "Alright. You and she can stay. But in exchange, I want in." "In?" "On whatever you end up doing about the Circle. I'm not letting you lead an unsupervised gang war across my city." Natalie glowered, jutting her jaw forward and grinding her teeth. "We're talking about a major crime syndicate here, you know? They're not going to just give up cuz you flash-bang them and knock 'em around a bit. And they definitely won't hesitate to shoot you in the line of duty. You're probably going to have to get your feathers dirty. You okay with that, little bird?" "I'll take care of my own conscience, thank you. I'm not interested in letting them do this kind of thing either. Because villains with a vendetta are even worse, because you'd kill people. So we're putting a stop to them. Together." She offered her hand. Natalie stared at it for a long moment, then reached up and grasped it, squeezing tightly. "Thanks, Hero."	The shrill bark of the doorbell rang through the dark hallway as I walked towards my front door, rubbing the sleep out of one eye with a thumb and trying to make my hair look less slept-on. Typical, I thought, the one night in weeks I decide to stay in and this shit happens. The doorbell was still shrieking at me. It had been a good 40 seconds of someone leaning on the button. Far too long to be anything good. Mind you, when did any good come of someone ringing on a doorbell after 1 AM? My social life was about as desolate as my bare fridge, and my colleagues weren’t the type to drop in via unannounced. Well, not by the front door at least. I tapped the little screen by the front door, waking up the camera system, stifling a yawn. The black panel lit up, and the image it displayed was better than a cold shower. On the screen stood a man, clad from head to toe in black and silver, leather and metal, a dark visor obscuring his face. His shoulders, broad and strong as a gorilla’s, were heaving as he pressed the doorbell with his elbow. “Tsar,” I hissed, my hands flexing instinctively, already reaching for the little burst of energy I needed to... Wait. He was holding someone. His dark costume shining in the downpour, glistening in the sodium glow of a streetlight, he had what looked like a girl in his arms. Maybe. I could see hair, and a dress of some sort. He shifted her, propping her up on his shoulder, and started beating at the door with his free hand. It shook slightly in its frame next to me. The smooth visage of his helmet turned up to my little camera. “Hermes!” He called, the slight trace of his Slavic accent tinny over the speaker. “Let me in! It’s important!” He started banging again. I stood, the cold floor barely registering as I stared at the screen, the heavy oak door shaking next to me with his insistent hammering. He could breeze past that in a second if he wanted to. Why is he waiting? If that was an innocent, I couldn’t fight him without risking her getting hurt. In his arms she’s a hostage, and would become a casualty with a twitch of trunk-like arms. My finger hovered over the small, white alarm button next to the screen. A firm press and there’d be a dozen capes here within a minute. “Please, Hermes.” He’d stopped his knocking. “She needs help. Is not for me.” The Tsar had said please. Jesus Christ. “God damn it,” I muttered to myself, grabbing a scarf from the coat rack and wrapping it around my lower face, before hauling the door open. “Come in,” I growled, waving an arm inside. He brushed past me, rivulets of winter rain coursing off his boots. I glanced up and down the street, and it looked as if it was clear. I locked the door and followed the man responsible for nearly £850 million of property damage and at least 31 deaths into my house. He was stood in the middle of the kitchen, looking very out of place and just as unsure of himself. It seemed that now his plan to get into my house had worked, he had no idea what the next step was. The girl in his arms coughed, a deep hacking bark that shook her body. I shook my head and sighed. “Take her over to the sofa,” I said, waving towards the huge, cream corner sofa that took up most of the open plan living room beyond the dining table. As he started to move towards it, I reached for my power and teleported upstairs to my bathroom before grabbing a few thick towels off the rack. I then jumped to my bedroom, snatching a tracksuit top and jogging bottoms, before going back to the bathroom for the medkit I keep under the sink. I took a deep breath and jumped back downstairs. Tsar jumped a little as I appeared out of thin air right next to him. “Hang on,” I warned him, throwing one towel onto the sofa. “Ok. Put her on that.” I watched him lower the girl to the sofa with a surprising gentleness. I threw the other towel at him and pointed to the sole armchair. “Sit on that over there.” “My thanks,” he said, his voice low. I knelt down next to the girl. She was soaked, and, as I pushed her long, brown hair away from her face, I found a nasty gash across her forehead. “Start talking,” I said, as I unzipped my large medkit and started rifling. “Who is she? What did you do to her?” “I did not do this,” Tsar said, a distorted version of the scene reflected in his visor. “And I do not know this girl.” I pulled out gauze and started wiping the blood off her skin, trying to work out how deep it was. “It was three men. Skot. I was driving and saw them strike her, pull her into alley.” I snorted into the scarf, hands working away. “And the big, bad Tsar decided to play hero. Right.” He was quiet for a second, contemplating my words. “Is true. I was angry. I wanted to help her. She looked scared.” I pressed the edges of her cut together and poured a thin line of medical glue along it, before pulling out two butterfly stitches. “Anyway. After dealing with men, she was still knocked out. I could not go to police or hospital, not in costume. To go home would be too long. She might be seriously injured.” “So why come here? To me? And, on a slightly related note, how the fuck do you know where I live?”
	[WP] The hero is enjoying a day off thanks to a rare quiet night in the city. That is until the villain shows up to her door, but carrying an unconscious woman and looking distraught. “I saved her from a party....I know this is weird, but I didn’t know who else to go to.”	"...What?" What the hell is happening? "Don't just stand there like an idiot, let us in!" Shock whispers in a biting tone. Ohmygod. "Woah, okay, you have the wrong apartment Miss Supervillain. P-Pack it up before I call the cops-" "I know it's you...Bumblebee." Mother. Fucker. I quickly but quietly let the Rage Against the Machine reject in, her silver hair (dyed?) brushing past me alongside the brunette's hair. Female, Latino, looks civilian, cute pastel pink dress, braided hair-nobody who would consort with Shock except in a 'Oh god don't shoot she'll fry my brains' way. "Okay, okay, let's set her on the coffee table, nice and gentle..." I direct Shock the same way I would a civ in this kind of situation. I'm not sure whether I should be thankful or not Mom isn't home. I summon the family crossbow, Stinger to my hand and let the family magic turn my hair from black to gold. I point at her with the hand-me-down-dragon-killing-weapon in one hand and communicator in the other. Shock raises a hand crackling with electricity in response. "Okay, give me one good reason I shouldn't call The Guard right now." I demand, trying to keep cool cause oh my god she knows my secret identity and this could all be a trap. "I'm a quick bugzapper and know how to scatter your brains all over this room faster than you could blink!" Shock answered, predictably. Not so predictably however, she glanced down at the girl on the table. Her face softened. "Also...I'm willing to negotiate for her sake." "Why?" “Oh what, you brand me a villain and suddenly I can’t have a heart?” “You self-righteously slaughter dozens, criminal or not.” “I’m a more efficient version of you.” “You’re a girl living a twisted revenge fantasy.” We stare each other down. The Guard communicator sparks in my hand and smokes. Dammit, third replacement this month. Okay, getting heated, need to diffuse… I lower my eyes down at the girl again. “Why?” Shock sighed. “I was out to kill a magic drug dealer. He used the party to experiment a new drug he called ‘Sleeping Beauty’. I offed the fucker, but not before he got her drink. I just...she has a future, I heard she’s applying to Earlton. Please...June.” I bite my lip. “...Okay, tell you what, I revive her, but in exchange, I wipe your memory of my identity.” Shock frowns, then sighs again, more agitated. I think we’re going to fight, that this will be like last time I caught her on the highway mid some crazed extrajudicial killing bender, but then she shockingly says: “Fine. I know you’d help anyway, but fine, bitch.”	The shrill bark of the doorbell rang through the dark hallway as I walked towards my front door, rubbing the sleep out of one eye with a thumb and trying to make my hair look less slept-on. Typical, I thought, the one night in weeks I decide to stay in and this shit happens. The doorbell was still shrieking at me. It had been a good 40 seconds of someone leaning on the button. Far too long to be anything good. Mind you, when did any good come of someone ringing on a doorbell after 1 AM? My social life was about as desolate as my bare fridge, and my colleagues weren’t the type to drop in via unannounced. Well, not by the front door at least. I tapped the little screen by the front door, waking up the camera system, stifling a yawn. The black panel lit up, and the image it displayed was better than a cold shower. On the screen stood a man, clad from head to toe in black and silver, leather and metal, a dark visor obscuring his face. His shoulders, broad and strong as a gorilla’s, were heaving as he pressed the doorbell with his elbow. “Tsar,” I hissed, my hands flexing instinctively, already reaching for the little burst of energy I needed to... Wait. He was holding someone. His dark costume shining in the downpour, glistening in the sodium glow of a streetlight, he had what looked like a girl in his arms. Maybe. I could see hair, and a dress of some sort. He shifted her, propping her up on his shoulder, and started beating at the door with his free hand. It shook slightly in its frame next to me. The smooth visage of his helmet turned up to my little camera. “Hermes!” He called, the slight trace of his Slavic accent tinny over the speaker. “Let me in! It’s important!” He started banging again. I stood, the cold floor barely registering as I stared at the screen, the heavy oak door shaking next to me with his insistent hammering. He could breeze past that in a second if he wanted to. Why is he waiting? If that was an innocent, I couldn’t fight him without risking her getting hurt. In his arms she’s a hostage, and would become a casualty with a twitch of trunk-like arms. My finger hovered over the small, white alarm button next to the screen. A firm press and there’d be a dozen capes here within a minute. “Please, Hermes.” He’d stopped his knocking. “She needs help. Is not for me.” The Tsar had said please. Jesus Christ. “God damn it,” I muttered to myself, grabbing a scarf from the coat rack and wrapping it around my lower face, before hauling the door open. “Come in,” I growled, waving an arm inside. He brushed past me, rivulets of winter rain coursing off his boots. I glanced up and down the street, and it looked as if it was clear. I locked the door and followed the man responsible for nearly £850 million of property damage and at least 31 deaths into my house. He was stood in the middle of the kitchen, looking very out of place and just as unsure of himself. It seemed that now his plan to get into my house had worked, he had no idea what the next step was. The girl in his arms coughed, a deep hacking bark that shook her body. I shook my head and sighed. “Take her over to the sofa,” I said, waving towards the huge, cream corner sofa that took up most of the open plan living room beyond the dining table. As he started to move towards it, I reached for my power and teleported upstairs to my bathroom before grabbing a few thick towels off the rack. I then jumped to my bedroom, snatching a tracksuit top and jogging bottoms, before going back to the bathroom for the medkit I keep under the sink. I took a deep breath and jumped back downstairs. Tsar jumped a little as I appeared out of thin air right next to him. “Hang on,” I warned him, throwing one towel onto the sofa. “Ok. Put her on that.” I watched him lower the girl to the sofa with a surprising gentleness. I threw the other towel at him and pointed to the sole armchair. “Sit on that over there.” “My thanks,” he said, his voice low. I knelt down next to the girl. She was soaked, and, as I pushed her long, brown hair away from her face, I found a nasty gash across her forehead. “Start talking,” I said, as I unzipped my large medkit and started rifling. “Who is she? What did you do to her?” “I did not do this,” Tsar said, a distorted version of the scene reflected in his visor. “And I do not know this girl.” I pulled out gauze and started wiping the blood off her skin, trying to work out how deep it was. “It was three men. Skot. I was driving and saw them strike her, pull her into alley.” I snorted into the scarf, hands working away. “And the big, bad Tsar decided to play hero. Right.” He was quiet for a second, contemplating my words. “Is true. I was angry. I wanted to help her. She looked scared.” I pressed the edges of her cut together and poured a thin line of medical glue along it, before pulling out two butterfly stitches. “Anyway. After dealing with men, she was still knocked out. I could not go to police or hospital, not in costume. To go home would be too long. She might be seriously injured.” “So why come here? To me? And, on a slightly related note, how the fuck do you know where I live?”
	[WP] The hero is enjoying a day off thanks to a rare quiet night in the city. That is until the villain shows up to her door, but carrying an unconscious woman and looking distraught. “I saved her from a party....I know this is weird, but I didn’t know who else to go to.”	"...What?" What the hell is happening? "Don't just stand there like an idiot, let us in!" Shock whispers in a biting tone. Ohmygod. "Woah, okay, you have the wrong apartment Miss Supervillain. P-Pack it up before I call the cops-" "I know it's you...Bumblebee." Mother. Fucker. I quickly but quietly let the Rage Against the Machine reject in, her silver hair (dyed?) brushing past me alongside the brunette's hair. Female, Latino, looks civilian, cute pastel pink dress, braided hair-nobody who would consort with Shock except in a 'Oh god don't shoot she'll fry my brains' way. "Okay, okay, let's set her on the coffee table, nice and gentle..." I direct Shock the same way I would a civ in this kind of situation. I'm not sure whether I should be thankful or not Mom isn't home. I summon the family crossbow, Stinger to my hand and let the family magic turn my hair from black to gold. I point at her with the hand-me-down-dragon-killing-weapon in one hand and communicator in the other. Shock raises a hand crackling with electricity in response. "Okay, give me one good reason I shouldn't call The Guard right now." I demand, trying to keep cool cause oh my god she knows my secret identity and this could all be a trap. "I'm a quick bugzapper and know how to scatter your brains all over this room faster than you could blink!" Shock answered, predictably. Not so predictably however, she glanced down at the girl on the table. Her face softened. "Also...I'm willing to negotiate for her sake." "Why?" “Oh what, you brand me a villain and suddenly I can’t have a heart?” “You self-righteously slaughter dozens, criminal or not.” “I’m a more efficient version of you.” “You’re a girl living a twisted revenge fantasy.” We stare each other down. The Guard communicator sparks in my hand and smokes. Dammit, third replacement this month. Okay, getting heated, need to diffuse… I lower my eyes down at the girl again. “Why?” Shock sighed. “I was out to kill a magic drug dealer. He used the party to experiment a new drug he called ‘Sleeping Beauty’. I offed the fucker, but not before he got her drink. I just...she has a future, I heard she’s applying to Earlton. Please...June.” I bite my lip. “...Okay, tell you what, I revive her, but in exchange, I wipe your memory of my identity.” Shock frowns, then sighs again, more agitated. I think we’re going to fight, that this will be like last time I caught her on the highway mid some crazed extrajudicial killing bender, but then she shockingly says: “Fine. I know you’d help anyway, but fine, bitch.”	Bobby was slightly wobbling after the night out drinking with his mates. These nights were getting too sparse he thought to himself. Slightly impaired due to the alcohol, his physique never would let him get totally shitfaced. He missed that. After wrestling for a few minutes to get the key in the opening, the door swung open. After taking a few steps inside, and closing the door behind him, he tensed. Something felt off. Someone as in the house, intruders? His drunken mind tried to remember if he had promised a place for someone to crash on his sofa today. The possibility of danger started to sober him up. He prowled silently to his living room, that’s where that feeling of wrongness came from. He saw the glimpse of a figure, faintly moving. The silhouette was outlined by the faint background lighting of the city. He recognized the figure of his nemesis, the one that always got away, Bertram “The Wisp”. He tensed and prepared himself, but before he could pounce, he heard the all-too familiar voice speak in it’s gravely tone, “Wait”. Bobby hesitated for a moment, he had been tricked before and, “- please.”. With this he relaxed, more from astonishment he than anything else. He knew the man before his as cold, distant, coldblooded and above all, haughty. He would never beg. Still wary of the one before him, Bobby flicked on the lights. With this, he saw the bleeding figure in the man’s arms, “Bertram, what is the meaning of this”. “Please, help her, she’s wounded.” With a sigh, Bobby let go of any intention of fighting. “Put her on the couch”. Reaching beneath the counter that divided his living room and kitchen, he pulled out a box and started treating her wounds. “Why are you here, Bertram? Why bring her here?”. “Because she doesn’t need to be involved.” “You’re not making sense.”, glad that he had the newest toys for first aid, he start applying a few sprays and a fleshy kind of duct tape over what were clearly bullet wounds. “So what’s her story. She your woman. Family? Friend?” The man who Bobby had always known to have an unflinching eyes, was now sitting with with his head between his hands. “No, no. She’s not connected or involved with me.” “Then why, Bertram? You’ve got your own flunkies and even fancier healing stuff than this.” “I can’t-“, Bobby cut him off. “Look either give me the full story, or you can get out of here, and I’m bringing her in and have her interrogated. Bertram’s head snapped up to look at Bobby, and for a moment Bobby could recognize the man, the villain, he knew. “You can’t, she’s.”, taking a moment to sto, the criminal composed himself. “That’s what I was trying to avoid, for her to be tainted in association with me.” “I was in disguise this evening. Enjoying a night off. Exactly because I knew, you were too. Less chance of me being recognized somewhere. You’re the only one who can somehow see through my disguises.” Bobby was perturbed that Bertram was that up to date of his goings-on, but he put that away for later. He felt the effect of the booze coming up again, now the adrenaline was passing away. So he lit a cigarette and motioned for the villain to continue. “She’s a waitress at the place I was having a drink at. It was quiet, so we had some small talk.”, Bertram got a sarcastic look, “A country girl that went to the city. She’s training to be a cop once. Way too innocent. Wants to save the world and bring peace to everyone.” Even Bobby lifted an eyebrow at that. “I swear to God. Not making that up. So she’s talking about how she’s training physically and studying in her off hours to get into the academy. She did complain that she hadn’t gotten the chance to get around the city yet. Lucky her. But you know, how many heroes spout the lines of saving the world. I’ve heard all before. And even you. I don’t need to remind you that even the best intention can go awry, right?” The memory of that made Bobby wince, the Incident as it was called, wasn’t spoken of directly to those in the know, only referred to. Even the mightiest could be mistaken. A sore lesson that no hero was perfect. Bobby did note, that as Bertram kept telling the tale, his glance kept going over to the girl. “So we’re talking. And outside some shouting is going on. We ignore it mostly, drunk people stuff. As keeps going on an on about her ideals, I even get peeved, you know? Good ideas, but when it comes down to it, they always become politicians or cops and they turn corrupt.” Bobby couldn’t help roll his eyes, a corrupt politician or two had been Bertram’s cause of becoming a criminal. The fact that they had all been convicted didn’t stop Bertram to keep going on in his villainous ways. He didn’t interrupt though. The man’s hands were starting to shake. The Wisp wasn’t so invulnerable after all. “Anyways. Then we hear a gunshot. She freezes and almost panics, I act along. But she doesn’t panic completely. She’s looking for the danger, instead of blindly running. Meanwhile she’s pushing me, a man twice her size, down, saying to stay low because it’s dangerous.” Bobby sighs softly and realizes that this man needs a drink. If not, this story won’t ever end and he won’t see his bed anytime soon. So he pours the man a shot with one finger of whiskey. Looking at the villain falling apart on his couch, he makes it two. “So there she is, crouching forward trying to get a better view of the street and staying in cover. Heh, even better than most of the cops on the street. Then all of a sudden, two figures dive through one of large glass windows, guns in their hands looking for cover themselves. They see me and think I’m a threat and potential witness. So they raise their guns. So I think ‘Ah this is gonna hurt’, but I’ll live, right. What’s a few bullets’” With a nod, Bobby agreed, Bertram was if anything elusive and resilient. This had contributed more to this fame than being an actual effective villain or malicious villain. “And then.”, To his surprise, the grown man on the couch bites back a sob, his voice slightly breaking. “And then, this girl. That’s not even started being a cop, decides that she needed to save me. She dove infront of me and the hit her.” Then the grown man breaks down, crying. Even snot. “She doesn’t deserve this. She-“, another sob, “She’s innocent. This city can’t get to her, man. She’s not involved.” “So why didn’t you bring her to your place, then?” “Because then she’s been tainted by association. You know how it works. If any villain or hero knows that she’s been healed by me, or god forbid sheltered and knows the location of my lair, they’ll be after her. She’ll be hunted for a slight chance of knowing my secret, or being perceived as my weak spot.” With a lesser sob, it seemed that Bertram was done for now. “She needs to be protected, kept safe. She doesn’t deserve to be involved in this struggle between heroes and villains.She needs to be sheltered. You were the only one I could think of that has an actual moral compass.” Bobby sighed, Bertram, who was silently sobbing with his face in his hands again, was about to fall apart again. A headache was coming on. He doused his cigarette and blew out the last bit of smoke. “No.” “Bwu-What?” A sob was choked back, as Bertram was looking at Bobby incomprehensibly. “Nope. Not doing it.” “Huh? But, she needs to be kept safe, she’s an innocent. She’s-“, in turning to Bobby, Bertram was half on a knee, probably unconsciously. Bobby had literally dreamed of having this villain on his knees defeated, humbled and in cuffs. But he wasn’t having it tonight. Besides, a grown man covered in snot with red eyes from crying… Bobby shook his head. “There’s no innocents in this city.” “There are. She is!.” Bobby again shook his head. “Then what about little children that get caught in crossfires when a gang decides to test out new automatic weapons on a rival gang?” “The gangs and villains of this town, long ago decided that there was nothing off limits.” Bobby spoke with a bitter tone. “Get out Bertram, there is no safety or sanctuary for you or this girl here. She decided her fate when she saved the Wisp.” “But she didn’t know!” “Get out.” The man on the couch nodded, and with a handkerchief he produced from somewhere blew his nose and wiped away the almost dried up liquids from his face. “I, I understand.” With each second that passed, Bertram regained more of his usual poise. “I was at fault trying to expect succor from one who has been trying to capture for years.” Picking up the girl, Bertram added. “The Wisp thanks you in this girl’s place for healing her wounds.” Ah there it was, that deep gravely voice that spoke in that annoying third person. Then a bright flash, and girl and man were gone. Bobby cursed. Afterimages played across his sight. That asshole. Using that stuff inside. When he sight was back, he picked up the unfinished whiskey. With a single glug, he emptied the glass. Thinking to himself, he confirmed that he could still harden his heart and be an asshole when times called for it. Bertram had regained a sense of empathy with that girl, and also gained a somewhat selfish wish to keep the girl safe. But he forgot that the girl had wanted to be involved. A small grin appeared on Bobby’s face. It would be interesting to see the most tenacious villain of this city trying to keep that naïve girl safe. Plus the man had obviously developed feelings for the girl. Besides the Wisp was much better at keeping secrets and stuff hidden and safe. Bobby guessed that it was simply the panic and fear of failure that made the Wisp discount his own facilities. With a flick of his hand, the lights went out and he finally got to go to bed. ------------------------------------------------------------ This and more at [r/TrabianTellsTales](https://www.reddit.com/r/TrabianTellsTales/)
	[WP] The hero is enjoying a day off thanks to a rare quiet night in the city. That is until the villain shows up to her door, but carrying an unconscious woman and looking distraught. “I saved her from a party....I know this is weird, but I didn’t know who else to go to.”	The young lad, for once, had a very pleasant night. Nothing out of the ordinary but he still won't let his guard down and carry his sword, even at his own home. He decided for a nightly stroll but was greeted by his masked enemy, the Duke of Tricks, at his doorstep. He took a step back and on guard readying for an attack. "My, my, is this how you treat your guest, young hero?" "Duke of Tricks! Why are you here!?" "Just a little visit for my sweet little toy. But I'm not here for our play time. No, I'm here to send you a little gift from me to you." In his hand was a handkerchief. With a flick of it comes a floating unconscious woman. "Worry her not, she is unharmed." as he gently lay her down on the hard wood floor. "And you expect me to believe that coming from you?" "Throughout our battles it has only between us. Hostages are too uncivilized for me." "And what's your deal with her now? Some sort of another trick? A game?" "You ask to many questions. Stop worry about me and start worry about her. Her state was like this when I found her, right by a party, the ruckus those hooligans make. Knowinglly, I know we had our differences but tend this girl for me. She is rather interesting. "As if I'd say no to anyone, but this one's different because it's you. Why?" "Believe me child, I would love to elaborate but that would ruin the surprise won't it? I'll give you a hint though. It involves you, her, and A GRAND SHOW THIS KINGDOM WILL NEVER FORGET. Best part is that I get to have the best seat." "Wait, what do you mean best-" "Ta~Ta~" And just like that, he vanished under the veil of smoke with his usual trademark doll of him, smirking at his escape. This is my first time, I hope you liked it.	"Who is she and why are you helping her?", the hero asks as he inquires the whole situation while seeing the villain storm in his house, "Help her and don't ask stupid questions. You're the hero, save her you dimwit", the villain replies angrily as he lays the girl on the couch. &#x200B; "What's the matter huh? You're the guy who kills women for his own personal pleasure and now you're trying to save one. Why is she so special, huh?", the hero strikes back as he turns the villain around to have him face the hero, "You don't need to know that. She's innocent and she doesn't deserve it", the villain says in a low tone as he walks to the door while longingly looking at the woman he brought, "I ain't helping her if you don't tell me who she is", the hero shouts. &#x200B; "Why? Do you think I am the jerk who kills women? Then kill me now but save her goddammit", the villain grabs his gun, a P1911, and hands it to the hero as he looks at him desperately, "If you really wanna know this, fine. She's the love of my life who I have been dating for years. I did all of this just for her" &#x200B; "You think killing random women would make her love you? You must be crazy", the hero says as he looks at him shocked, "yeah I know, it makes me bad but I only did this to protect her", the villain says furiously as he moves close to him, "but I couldn't save her this time", he breaks down as he starts to cry. &#x200B; The looks at him and then turns to the woman as she's still unconscious and drops the gun on the floor, "What if you are lying? You could be doing this just to prove a point that I am weak like you always have.", the hero sits next to him, "I won't trust you ever since you broke my trust years ago". "I know, ever since you found out I was doing this, things have never been the same for us, haven't they? I wish we can just go back to where we were", the villain says as he looks at him with teary eyes. "We could, but will you change? You only did this cause of your bloodlust and now you think I can forgive you because you love someone and have been killing those who is a danger to her? You haven't changed a bit brother", the hero says as he gets up &#x200B; Author's note: I will finish this, hopefully. Got busy with stuff right now
	[WP] The hero is enjoying a day off thanks to a rare quiet night in the city. That is until the villain shows up to her door, but carrying an unconscious woman and looking distraught. “I saved her from a party....I know this is weird, but I didn’t know who else to go to.”	Recluse is lounging on her couch watching Hugh Jackman dance and sing across rooftops when someone pounds on her door. She should have known taking a night off wouldn’t end well. The cottage is a gift from the Mayor; a thank you for her discrete participation in tracking down magi-tech that made its way into the underground. It’s on the outskirts of the city nestled in the National Park, it’s cozy, everything is state of the art, it could resist a bomb blast, and most importantly it’s cloaked. &#x200B; The pounding continues, followed by shouting, “I know you’re in there!” &#x200B; So whoever is at her door is someone the Mayor trusts, meaning she can’t just pretend not to be home. With a sigh, Recluse pauses her movie, vaults over her couch, and opens the door. &#x200B; “Y-” &#x200B; The word dies on her lips as she sees the dark cloak with gold highlights and pure white glowing eyes. &#x200B; “Eris!” &#x200B; The warlock’s tale-tell gold sparks are fading in the night behind them. She must have magic-ed her way past security. Recluse tenses ready for a brawl. &#x200B; “I’m not here to fight,” Eris throws a hand up, “I need your help.” &#x200B; For the first time Recluse notices the second figure Eris’s is supporting and the frantic look on the warlock’s face. &#x200B; “We were at a party; there was trouble. I got her out of there but, she’s not right, I think she’s-” &#x200B; Recluse inspects over the woman strung over Eris’s should looking for injuries. The woman’s pulse is rapid, and she’s pale and clammy despite being unconscious. Gently, Recluse checks the woman’s eyes. One is bright green, the pupil a strange oval shape, the other blue with green and yellow creeping across it. On a whim, she pulls up the woman’s lips to reveal teeth that don’t look quite right. &#x200B; “I know this is weird, but I didn’t know who else to go to,” Eris continues. &#x200B; The woman is going through ‘The Change.’ She's mutating. &#x200B; “Shit,” Recluse mutters.	"Who is she and why are you helping her?", the hero asks as he inquires the whole situation while seeing the villain storm in his house, "Help her and don't ask stupid questions. You're the hero, save her you dimwit", the villain replies angrily as he lays the girl on the couch. &#x200B; "What's the matter huh? You're the guy who kills women for his own personal pleasure and now you're trying to save one. Why is she so special, huh?", the hero strikes back as he turns the villain around to have him face the hero, "You don't need to know that. She's innocent and she doesn't deserve it", the villain says in a low tone as he walks to the door while longingly looking at the woman he brought, "I ain't helping her if you don't tell me who she is", the hero shouts. &#x200B; "Why? Do you think I am the jerk who kills women? Then kill me now but save her goddammit", the villain grabs his gun, a P1911, and hands it to the hero as he looks at him desperately, "If you really wanna know this, fine. She's the love of my life who I have been dating for years. I did all of this just for her" &#x200B; "You think killing random women would make her love you? You must be crazy", the hero says as he looks at him shocked, "yeah I know, it makes me bad but I only did this to protect her", the villain says furiously as he moves close to him, "but I couldn't save her this time", he breaks down as he starts to cry. &#x200B; The looks at him and then turns to the woman as she's still unconscious and drops the gun on the floor, "What if you are lying? You could be doing this just to prove a point that I am weak like you always have.", the hero sits next to him, "I won't trust you ever since you broke my trust years ago". "I know, ever since you found out I was doing this, things have never been the same for us, haven't they? I wish we can just go back to where we were", the villain says as he looks at him with teary eyes. "We could, but will you change? You only did this cause of your bloodlust and now you think I can forgive you because you love someone and have been killing those who is a danger to her? You haven't changed a bit brother", the hero says as he gets up &#x200B; Author's note: I will finish this, hopefully. Got busy with stuff right now
	[WP] The hero is enjoying a day off thanks to a rare quiet night in the city. That is until the villain shows up to her door, but carrying an unconscious woman and looking distraught. “I saved her from a party....I know this is weird, but I didn’t know who else to go to.”	Samuel stared. For a second, he hadn't even recognized Bête Noir. His waist long hair, instead of it's usual ponytail, was hanging down, dripping some sort of black grease onto the pavement. Beyond that, it seemed Bête Noir had quite a few scars under his mask. Samuel hadn't realized the extent of the scarring. Normally, Bête Noir's mask covered all his facial deformities. The left side of his face was fairly normal, despite the fresh cuts on it. The right side was Phantom Of The Opera levels of disfigured. The left side of Bête Noir's mouth, for example, had no lips. Strings of skin connected the two halves of his mouth as if he was melting. His teeth were visible at all times, which wasn't helped by the fact that they were yellow and quite a few were broken. His right eye was wide, and Bête Noir's eyelids barely covered it when he blinked. Bête Noir also didn't have a right cheek. It was just muscle under some sort of clear cover. "...You want to help someone?" "Are you gonna help me, or should I just leave?" "Depends. I need you to explain who this woman is." Bête Noir scowled. At least Samuel guessed that was what he was doing. It was hard to see expressions on a half melted face. "What does it matter to you?!" "I can't help you if you keep being difficult!" Bête Noir growled, but didn't produce any sort of retort. "...This woman just so happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, and got caught in an explosion-" "An explosion?!" "Power surge, but that's not the point. This is just some random pregnant woman who got caught in the explosion. She wasn't even going to the party, she was just cleanup crew for the rich kids there. That's why you need to help her." Samuel sighed. "Fine. I'll call an ambulance." He sighed and pulled out his phone to dial 911. "...thank you." Bête Noir crouched down and placed the woman gently on the pavement. As soon as Bête Noir began standing back up, Samuel kicked him in the head. Bête Noir landed with a thud. "Ow! What the fuck?!" "The cops are going to haul you away soon, so just sit still." Bête Noir tried to sit up, but he didn't have the strength. Samuel hadn't ever taken the time to notice, but Bête Noir was incredibly thin. Some of his bones could be seen poking out of his body, due to there not being enough space for them. It was concerning, but Bête Noir was a villain. He needed to be detained so as to reduce the danger on the streets. "Next time you fuck me over, maybe be a bit more gentle?" Bête Noir snarked. "Are you seriously going to make jokes right now?" "If I can somehow be a nuisance, I will be." Bête Noir coughed before laughing. "That said, I have somewhere to be." Bête Noir suddenly bit his hand. The blood poured out and turned into a near opaque purple gas. Samuel tried to grab at where the villain had been before, but he was gone. "God damn it."	"Who is she and why are you helping her?", the hero asks as he inquires the whole situation while seeing the villain storm in his house, "Help her and don't ask stupid questions. You're the hero, save her you dimwit", the villain replies angrily as he lays the girl on the couch. &#x200B; "What's the matter huh? You're the guy who kills women for his own personal pleasure and now you're trying to save one. Why is she so special, huh?", the hero strikes back as he turns the villain around to have him face the hero, "You don't need to know that. She's innocent and she doesn't deserve it", the villain says in a low tone as he walks to the door while longingly looking at the woman he brought, "I ain't helping her if you don't tell me who she is", the hero shouts. &#x200B; "Why? Do you think I am the jerk who kills women? Then kill me now but save her goddammit", the villain grabs his gun, a P1911, and hands it to the hero as he looks at him desperately, "If you really wanna know this, fine. She's the love of my life who I have been dating for years. I did all of this just for her" &#x200B; "You think killing random women would make her love you? You must be crazy", the hero says as he looks at him shocked, "yeah I know, it makes me bad but I only did this to protect her", the villain says furiously as he moves close to him, "but I couldn't save her this time", he breaks down as he starts to cry. &#x200B; The looks at him and then turns to the woman as she's still unconscious and drops the gun on the floor, "What if you are lying? You could be doing this just to prove a point that I am weak like you always have.", the hero sits next to him, "I won't trust you ever since you broke my trust years ago". "I know, ever since you found out I was doing this, things have never been the same for us, haven't they? I wish we can just go back to where we were", the villain says as he looks at him with teary eyes. "We could, but will you change? You only did this cause of your bloodlust and now you think I can forgive you because you love someone and have been killing those who is a danger to her? You haven't changed a bit brother", the hero says as he gets up &#x200B; Author's note: I will finish this, hopefully. Got busy with stuff right now
	[WP] The hero is enjoying a day off thanks to a rare quiet night in the city. That is until the villain shows up to her door, but carrying an unconscious woman and looking distraught. “I saved her from a party....I know this is weird, but I didn’t know who else to go to.”	When I became a villain there wasn't exactly a need to know medical things. Sure, with time, I learned to dress my own wounds but that was the limit to my abilities. I knew I had no other choice, didn't feel safe dropping her off somewhere and hospitals weren't a choice since police were there and it was rather annoying to have to deal with. So I clumsily pulled my mask over my head and went to the place I knew the hero would be. She blinked at me, in fact she hadn't stopped blinking at me as if she was torn between attacking me and helping the girl. Well obviously there was a reason she was a hero. She helped me take the girl into her dining room, we both carefully laid the girl down. I quickly moved several feet away, pressing myself into a corner so it was clear I wasn't here to attack the hero. "What happened?" I could see the tenseness in her shoulders but she had most of her attention on the girl, checking her over. I rub my forehead, the throbbing sensation of a headache appearing. "I was walking down the street and heard a girl screaming, then she wasn't. When I ran over there it was several guys." I mutter, my shoulders tucked in so far I think I might just disappear. Now that I wasn't focused on the girl I could feel the pain in my own body from having to fight off three guys with only my fists and make shift weapons. I already could feel a large bruise forming across my ribs from one of them slamming a metal pipe against my side. The bastards didn't know what to do when they came across a woman that could actually fight them. I saw the hero glance over at me, I knew it bugged her that I knew her supposed secret identity though I never really thought to use that to my advantage. I knew she had a younger brother that just started his first year of college, he served me coffee every morning. I knew her father passed when she was little from a car accident and that her mother was getting sicker in the hospital from some disease they couldn't name. I wondered if it bothered her, the fact that we could defend ourselves but others couldn't. I made the mental note to send the woman, that attacked woman, a few places she could go to learn self defense. "You got to her on time luckily, she just has a couple bruises but I can take care of her from here." The message was clear. I nodded to someone who wasn't even paying attention and finally moved forward to go to the door. Instantly there was a knife pointed towards my throat. I ignored the slight ache in my chest and stared at the hero. Without her silly outfit, not that mine was any better, she looked mundane in the most striking way possible. In costume it was easy to think she was more than human but standing in the living room, her home a place full of herself, she was utterly human. I could tell how exposed she felt so I took a small step back and held my hands up. "I'm just leaving." I say carefully. The hero blinks, it's then I notice how long her lashes are, and slowly puts down her own knife. "Why did you do it?" For a moment I'm confused then it hits me and I can't help but scoff loudly. This causes me to wince and my fingers twitch to hold my side but I had long since learned to hide my weaknesses. However the hero is too observant and I see, if I dare say, concern flash in her eyes. "Right, I'm a terrible monster so I would never help a person in danger." I say, injecting as much venom and sarcasm in my voice. I don't want her concern. She bites her lip and glances over at the girl, I almost want to scoff again, of course that's what she thought. I move forward again, probably a little to fast, because then my back is being slammed against the floor and I have a knife pressing against my throat this time. I bite down hard to keep from making a noise of pain. "Alright, next time I'll just let the person get killed. How's that?" I ask but the hero looks too distracted and suddenly I feel her fingers pressing into my shoulders. "What are you doing?" I hiss but then she digs them into my rib cage and it's so unexpected I yelp, the ending of the sound muffled as I bite my tongue and press my lips together. I resist the urge to cuss her out as best as possible. Then the knife is moving off my throat and towards my side. My body freezes and I go into panic mode, despite the soreness of my body I maneuver the knife out of her hands and then roll us over to press the knife against her chest. "Listen, I'm not here to hurt you or anyone. I wanted to drop off the girl-" "I was trying to check." She cuts me off in a huff, looking annoyed. "Check?" (1/2)	"Who is she and why are you helping her?", the hero asks as he inquires the whole situation while seeing the villain storm in his house, "Help her and don't ask stupid questions. You're the hero, save her you dimwit", the villain replies angrily as he lays the girl on the couch. &#x200B; "What's the matter huh? You're the guy who kills women for his own personal pleasure and now you're trying to save one. Why is she so special, huh?", the hero strikes back as he turns the villain around to have him face the hero, "You don't need to know that. She's innocent and she doesn't deserve it", the villain says in a low tone as he walks to the door while longingly looking at the woman he brought, "I ain't helping her if you don't tell me who she is", the hero shouts. &#x200B; "Why? Do you think I am the jerk who kills women? Then kill me now but save her goddammit", the villain grabs his gun, a P1911, and hands it to the hero as he looks at him desperately, "If you really wanna know this, fine. She's the love of my life who I have been dating for years. I did all of this just for her" &#x200B; "You think killing random women would make her love you? You must be crazy", the hero says as he looks at him shocked, "yeah I know, it makes me bad but I only did this to protect her", the villain says furiously as he moves close to him, "but I couldn't save her this time", he breaks down as he starts to cry. &#x200B; The looks at him and then turns to the woman as she's still unconscious and drops the gun on the floor, "What if you are lying? You could be doing this just to prove a point that I am weak like you always have.", the hero sits next to him, "I won't trust you ever since you broke my trust years ago". "I know, ever since you found out I was doing this, things have never been the same for us, haven't they? I wish we can just go back to where we were", the villain says as he looks at him with teary eyes. "We could, but will you change? You only did this cause of your bloodlust and now you think I can forgive you because you love someone and have been killing those who is a danger to her? You haven't changed a bit brother", the hero says as he gets up &#x200B; Author's note: I will finish this, hopefully. Got busy with stuff right now
	[WP] The hero is enjoying a day off thanks to a rare quiet night in the city. That is until the villain shows up to her door, but carrying an unconscious woman and looking distraught. “I saved her from a party....I know this is weird, but I didn’t know who else to go to.”	"Maria!" She shouts and looks at him with fire in her eyes. "Now, before you jump to conclusions I... ugh!" The villain floats inches from the ground, choked by some invisible force. With her right hand our hero telepathically draws the unconscious young lady into her home and with her right she drags the villain struggling through the air. He falls to the ground and swallows gulps of air clutching at his throat. "God! Damn! You! Woman!" He screams, breathes, screams, brrathes until his repiration comes to order. "Talk!" She lifts him up again, his arms sprawled to the sides. "Mesmer! What the fuck are you doing?! This is Maria! Do you really think I would hurt her?! Think woman!" He appeals to her desperately. Hurt, but not by the psychic pressure but by her pressumption of his misdeed. She lowers him gently. Magnus is a heinous villain with blood all the way up to his elbows, but Maria was the one person she knows he wouldn't hurt. Couldn't hurt. "Explain this." She says to him in a gentler yet wary tone. "I was, following her, as usual. Keeping an eye on her." Magnus looks sheepish. Almost like the young boy she knew. "She went to that club, Aces. Terrible place. She has a few drinks, has a bit of fun. Regular stuff. Then suddenly her knees buckle and she topples over. A big guy tried to carry her away." He almost smiled, she saw it. A hungry feral look came and then went on his face like a flash. Magnus of the many faces. She didn't have to ask about the big guy, she knew. "And you took her here? Why?" "God damn it Mesmer she's your sister! Our sister! Besides where would I take her? To father? He would have turned me to ashes." She bites her tongue. He doesn't know about father yet. Best he doesn't know for now. "Why didn't she use her powers?" Maria had some incredible gifts, not least of all future sight. How could this have happened? "Thats the thing Mesmer. Whoever came after her knew of her powers and nullified them. This is something I thought you might be interested in." There it is again, a flicker of another face. A concerned one? Calculating? You can never tell with Magnus. Maria stirs. They both look her way. "Bomb! A bomb! Get down!" Boooooom!	"Who is she and why are you helping her?", the hero asks as he inquires the whole situation while seeing the villain storm in his house, "Help her and don't ask stupid questions. You're the hero, save her you dimwit", the villain replies angrily as he lays the girl on the couch. &#x200B; "What's the matter huh? You're the guy who kills women for his own personal pleasure and now you're trying to save one. Why is she so special, huh?", the hero strikes back as he turns the villain around to have him face the hero, "You don't need to know that. She's innocent and she doesn't deserve it", the villain says in a low tone as he walks to the door while longingly looking at the woman he brought, "I ain't helping her if you don't tell me who she is", the hero shouts. &#x200B; "Why? Do you think I am the jerk who kills women? Then kill me now but save her goddammit", the villain grabs his gun, a P1911, and hands it to the hero as he looks at him desperately, "If you really wanna know this, fine. She's the love of my life who I have been dating for years. I did all of this just for her" &#x200B; "You think killing random women would make her love you? You must be crazy", the hero says as he looks at him shocked, "yeah I know, it makes me bad but I only did this to protect her", the villain says furiously as he moves close to him, "but I couldn't save her this time", he breaks down as he starts to cry. &#x200B; The looks at him and then turns to the woman as she's still unconscious and drops the gun on the floor, "What if you are lying? You could be doing this just to prove a point that I am weak like you always have.", the hero sits next to him, "I won't trust you ever since you broke my trust years ago". "I know, ever since you found out I was doing this, things have never been the same for us, haven't they? I wish we can just go back to where we were", the villain says as he looks at him with teary eyes. "We could, but will you change? You only did this cause of your bloodlust and now you think I can forgive you because you love someone and have been killing those who is a danger to her? You haven't changed a bit brother", the hero says as he gets up &#x200B; Author's note: I will finish this, hopefully. Got busy with stuff right now
	[WP] The hero is enjoying a day off thanks to a rare quiet night in the city. That is until the villain shows up to her door, but carrying an unconscious woman and looking distraught. “I saved her from a party....I know this is weird, but I didn’t know who else to go to.”	Angie froze, doorknob in her left hand, glass of wine in her right. “Clayton,” she hissed. Tossing the wine aside, she dove to her right for the shield she kept there, rolled, and came up crouched low behind it, bracing for his attack. “Angela, please.” His pained voice cracked. Why isn’t he attacking? Gingerly, she peered over the top of her shield. His broad silhouette filled the door frame. His face tear-streaked, he struggled with something heavy in his arms. Not something. Someone. “Ruby?!?” Her shield clattered to the floor, and she closed the distance between them in a single leap. “WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER?” she screamed, effortlessly taking Ruby’s limp body from him. “Nothing,” he croaked. “I saved her from a party… I know this is weird, but I didn’t know who else to go to.” On her floor, Angie cradled the young woman in her arms. Fighting tears, her fingers searched frantically for a pulse as her eyes found the labored rising and falling of Ruby's chest. There. Slow, but there. She eyed the blue tinge around Ruby’s lips. “NARCAN!” she barked at Clayton. “In the bathroom, above the sink!” Clayton jumped, but thankful for direction, he hurried down the hall. Angie gently laid her baby girl on the floor. She hadn’t seen Ruby in over a year, ever since that awful fight the evening of Ruby’s 18th birthday. I told her no drugs under my roof. Where had she been? Had she been using all this time? Clayton returned with the Narcan. Angie tilted Ruby’s head back. Holding Ruby’s mouth shut with her left thumb, she pinched Ruby’s right nostril closed with her index finger, and using her right hand, she inserted the tip of the Narcan in Ruby’s left nostril. She pressed the plunger. Now we wait. Angie carefully rolled Ruby onto her right side, tucking her hand under her head in the recovery position. Clayton knelt down beside her. Wiping tears away with the back of her hand, Angie looked over her daughter’s body, into the eyes of her arch-nemesis. “How did you know?” He looked down, almost ashamedly, “People talk. I hear more than most, given my position.” Angie nodded, “Well, thank you for bringing her home, but I think you should leave now.” He lifted pleading blue eyes to meet hers, “Angie, please,” he said. “She’s my daughter, too.”	"Who is she and why are you helping her?", the hero asks as he inquires the whole situation while seeing the villain storm in his house, "Help her and don't ask stupid questions. You're the hero, save her you dimwit", the villain replies angrily as he lays the girl on the couch. &#x200B; "What's the matter huh? You're the guy who kills women for his own personal pleasure and now you're trying to save one. Why is she so special, huh?", the hero strikes back as he turns the villain around to have him face the hero, "You don't need to know that. She's innocent and she doesn't deserve it", the villain says in a low tone as he walks to the door while longingly looking at the woman he brought, "I ain't helping her if you don't tell me who she is", the hero shouts. &#x200B; "Why? Do you think I am the jerk who kills women? Then kill me now but save her goddammit", the villain grabs his gun, a P1911, and hands it to the hero as he looks at him desperately, "If you really wanna know this, fine. She's the love of my life who I have been dating for years. I did all of this just for her" &#x200B; "You think killing random women would make her love you? You must be crazy", the hero says as he looks at him shocked, "yeah I know, it makes me bad but I only did this to protect her", the villain says furiously as he moves close to him, "but I couldn't save her this time", he breaks down as he starts to cry. &#x200B; The looks at him and then turns to the woman as she's still unconscious and drops the gun on the floor, "What if you are lying? You could be doing this just to prove a point that I am weak like you always have.", the hero sits next to him, "I won't trust you ever since you broke my trust years ago". "I know, ever since you found out I was doing this, things have never been the same for us, haven't they? I wish we can just go back to where we were", the villain says as he looks at him with teary eyes. "We could, but will you change? You only did this cause of your bloodlust and now you think I can forgive you because you love someone and have been killing those who is a danger to her? You haven't changed a bit brother", the hero says as he gets up &#x200B; Author's note: I will finish this, hopefully. Got busy with stuff right now
	[WP] The hero is enjoying a day off thanks to a rare quiet night in the city. That is until the villain shows up to her door, but carrying an unconscious woman and looking distraught. “I saved her from a party....I know this is weird, but I didn’t know who else to go to.”	Pounding on my door; then, a low voice: “Angel!” Someone in search of a hero, then. I didn’t recognize the man through the peephole, nor the teenaged girl slumped against him. He knocked again. “I can see your shadow through the peephole,” he said. “She needs your help.” I opened the door as far as the chain allowed. It was supposed to be my night off. I’d just helped the police round up the leadership of the Vipers, a nasty gang with connections to international arms smugglers. And Dr. Peterman had promised not to give out my home address anymore. “Who are you?” He looked confused. “Huh? Angel, you know me.” He shifted the girl to point at his face. There was something vaguely familiar about the shape of his jaw. He sighed and covered his eyes with his hand. “Firewalker!” I fell back on instinct, lighting my hands in cold white flame. I could feel the flames at my back, too, like wings. That face—albeit obscured by a mask—was on every wall of every precinct in the city. Dr. Peterman had sent me against him twice already, though he’d always managed to evade me. And now he stood outside my door. A few heartbeats passed, as I waited for Firewalker to burst through the security chain and attack. Then I heard the unmistakeable chunky gurgle and splat of someone vomiting. “Helen, I didn’t have anywhere else to bring her.” The flames from my hands dissipated almost without conscious thought. He knew my name. Firewalker knew my name and where I lived, but he hadn’t come to fight me. I reapproached the door. “What’s wrong with her?” The girl was pale, her eyes unfocused. “I found her at a party. I think... something bad was going to happen to her.” Firewalker looked into my eyes, then. “She just needs a safe place to sleep it off.” Against my better judgment, I let them in. Firewalker half-dragged the girl to my peeling pleather couch. “How do you know my real name?” I asked, reaching for the Advil in my kitchen cabinet. “I knew you... before. I mean, I remember you. I used to be a security guard at BRI. You signed in to visit Dr. Peterman every Tuesday at 3.” I filled a glass at the sink. “Were you there, when—” Even four months later, I struggled to put into words what had happened to me in the lab that day. Dr. Peterman was mentoring me through my thesis, and that day he’d wanted to show me his new project. Then— pain, and unbearable light, and screaming, and the white flames. “Yeah.” Firewalker interrupted. “Yeah, I was there. How do you think this happened?” He shook his hand with a snap and his fingers ignited in yellow flame. I stared. “You’re like me?” He stared back. “I thought you saw me at First Union Bank. And at the Mayor’s victory party.” “Well I knew you were an arsonist but I didn’t know you were like me.” Firewalker frowned. “I’m not an arsonist.” Then he hissed a little and shook the flames out again. I set the water and pills down next to the girl. “Your flames hurt you?” I took his hand to examine it. The pads of his fingers were puffy and shiny. “Uh... yeah.” His voice sounded strangled, and I felt uncomfortably close. I dropped his hand. “Yours... don’t?” “No. Never.” The girl moaned a little, then, and Firewalker turned to check on her. “You think I’m an arsonist?” He asked. “You set First Union on fire.” I reminded him. “I thought BRI was keeping evidence in a safe deposit box. No one got hurt.” “You hurt all those people at the Mayor’s.” I heard my own voice rising. “And you killed all the people on that barge last month.” “I didn’t have anything to do with the barge fire.” Firewalker snapped back. “And the Mayor’s? I burned my way into the back room, sure. But then you set the whole ballroom on fire. I appreciated the distraction while I escaped, but that was pretty reckless.” “I wasn’t trying to help you escape! I was trying to corner you!” Firewalker took a big step back. “You... you wanted to capture me? Why?” “You’re at the top of every most wanted list! Dr. Peterman said—” Firewalker exploded. “You’re actually working with that guy? After what he did to you? I thought you were infiltrating BRI to bring them down, but you’re actually just their... their goon?” I felt queasy. “I’m... I fight crime.” “Helen... BRI is a front company for a major criminal enterprise. They’ve been experimenting on people for years. They’ve bought off the Mayor and half the police. They’re exterminating the Vipers, though I haven’t figured out why yet. I mean, good riddance, but there’s got to be some profit in it for them.” I sat down, hard. Firewalker suddenly looked horrified. “Did you kill the others on purpose? Jenny and Ty and Chance?” “I fight villains.” I said weakly. “You. You’re a villain.” “Who told you I was a villain?” Firewalker almost looked sorry for me. “Who told you that you were a hero, Helen?” *Edited to (attempt to) fix formatting.	"Who is she and why are you helping her?", the hero asks as he inquires the whole situation while seeing the villain storm in his house, "Help her and don't ask stupid questions. You're the hero, save her you dimwit", the villain replies angrily as he lays the girl on the couch. &#x200B; "What's the matter huh? You're the guy who kills women for his own personal pleasure and now you're trying to save one. Why is she so special, huh?", the hero strikes back as he turns the villain around to have him face the hero, "You don't need to know that. She's innocent and she doesn't deserve it", the villain says in a low tone as he walks to the door while longingly looking at the woman he brought, "I ain't helping her if you don't tell me who she is", the hero shouts. &#x200B; "Why? Do you think I am the jerk who kills women? Then kill me now but save her goddammit", the villain grabs his gun, a P1911, and hands it to the hero as he looks at him desperately, "If you really wanna know this, fine. She's the love of my life who I have been dating for years. I did all of this just for her" &#x200B; "You think killing random women would make her love you? You must be crazy", the hero says as he looks at him shocked, "yeah I know, it makes me bad but I only did this to protect her", the villain says furiously as he moves close to him, "but I couldn't save her this time", he breaks down as he starts to cry. &#x200B; The looks at him and then turns to the woman as she's still unconscious and drops the gun on the floor, "What if you are lying? You could be doing this just to prove a point that I am weak like you always have.", the hero sits next to him, "I won't trust you ever since you broke my trust years ago". "I know, ever since you found out I was doing this, things have never been the same for us, haven't they? I wish we can just go back to where we were", the villain says as he looks at him with teary eyes. "We could, but will you change? You only did this cause of your bloodlust and now you think I can forgive you because you love someone and have been killing those who is a danger to her? You haven't changed a bit brother", the hero says as he gets up &#x200B; Author's note: I will finish this, hopefully. Got busy with stuff right now
	[WP] The hero is enjoying a day off thanks to a rare quiet night in the city. That is until the villain shows up to her door, but carrying an unconscious woman and looking distraught. “I saved her from a party....I know this is weird, but I didn’t know who else to go to.”	File this one under 'No good deed goes unpunished.' So, I was at home, enjoying what I expected to be a quiet night. Miserable March weather just with wintery wet is a friend to the super-heroine. When it rains cats and dogs, criminals stay indoors. Hot summer nights are my busiest time. The town is wall-to-wall assholes looking for trouble and victims and finding both. I had just gotten out of the bubble bath and was about halfway through that history of New Hollywood Johnny Noir recommended and was waiting for the kettle to boil for my chamomile tea. Of course my bell rang. I sighed and put my e-reader aside and looked wistfully at the plate of shortbread cookies by my cup. "One minute please," I said as I stepped into my panties and sweats simultaneously. "Leah, it's an emergency," the person outside shouted. I paused, both because of his urgency and because the voice was familiar but I couldn't place it. So, skip the brassiere and put on a T-Shirt with and open hoodie from my last medical school reunion. I looked through the door cam. Male, Caucasian with light hair plastered to his forehead. Height- five eleven, with skinny build- call it a buck fifty. Age- I'd say upper twenties. He wore a heavy dark single breasted overcoat. But it was the thin girl cradled in his arms that concerned me. Caucasian her dark hair was straight and lank as it hung loosely from her lolling head. I'd be surprised if she were old enough to drink legally. If this guy was tall and lean, the girl was short and painfully thin. The hospital said she wasn't even a C-note on the scale, even though she was 5'3''. But I am getting ahead of myself. I flung open the door and the man shoved his way into my foyer. He looked panicked- distraught and said as he stumbled to the nearest couch, “I saved her from a party....I know this is weird, but I didn’t know who else to go to.” And that's when I realized- seeing that dirty blonde hair and cockney accent… "PHASER!" I brought my fields up and focused my energy into my hands. "Listen, Aurora," he said, "can we not do the brawling nonsense… the girl…" I stopped my hand energy, but kept my shields up. "And how did you know…" "Where you live? Most of us know. Some bugger had the bright idea to keep a watch on your house. Plant a camera or something. But once you're out the door, 'VOOM!'" "Sounds like Solon." I considered the situation as he placed the girl on the couch. Underneath her shabby car coat she wore a black sparkly cocktail dress that was cut very high in front and with a skirt so short that it left little to the imagination. Her matching stilettos were scuffed- and I suspect them were responsible for the scrape on her right cheek. "I know you hate me…" "Phaser, I don't hate you. You vex me, but hate? No. You're a crook- a master thief, but you've never hurt anyone in any of your operations and never offered violence against anything besides a safe door or alarm system. Almost anyone else and you'd be spitting teeth." I lowered my shields and went to the girl. I turned over my shoulder and said, "Don't think I'm not keeping an eye on you." He was a slippery customer- literally. His ability to change into gas or liquid and his sticky fingers kept him high on the International Super Hero Organization's hit parade, even if the worst injury anyone suffered in his long crime spree was a twisted ankle while in hot pursuit. I checked the girl and my dislike for Phaser dissipated like he did in the Diamond District job last May. Her pulse was erratic and breathing shallow. "Tell me what happened and why take her to my doorstep and not an emergency room?" "I was at a loft party in Alston." He paused as if he said too much. I supposed he shrugged but I was seeing how the kid's eyes reacted to the light from my fingertips. "I was celebrating my latest job, I suppose you'll be reading about it in The Herald. Anyhow, the party was one of these underground things- not legal, not licensed, but usually good fun. DJ, fetish costumes, full bar, women…" Not my idea of a good time as you may surmise but I was not judging. But the sub rosa nature of the gathering may explain why he was unwilling to go about a mile further to the hospitals nearby. "So I was hitting on her, and we were drinking… She was having some kinda punch there. I had a couple of beers from the keg. Her name is Liz. Uh… There were other blokes there. I dunno. Maybe someone doctored her drink?" I mean she was taking something too…" He held out her purse. I poured out the contents: breath mints and a prescription bottle with the label removed. I opened the cap and groaned when I saw the rainbow within. It was a Physician's Desk Reference pharmacopeia pop quiz. At this point, thankfully, her eyes fluttered and she groaned. "Liz? Is that your name, honey?" She moaned affirmatively. "Can you tell me what's wrong?" "I go to Northeastern." "That's useful," Phaser said from my dining room. "Brad said he had some Chilli Willies… I met this cute guy. Older dude. I had some of the punch. They said there was grain in it." "Chilli Willies?" Phaser asked. "It's a street term for a Benzodiazepine. Kid mixed it with strong booze. Yeah, she's gonna be a mess." I stood up. "Honey, you lie there a while. I'm going to get my bag we'll get you better, OK?" Phaser was in front of the cupboard in my dining room admiring my silver collection. Indicating my menorah he said, "I didn't know you were Jewish." It's one of the joys of being mixed race. And yes, Cohen is not an uncommon surname among African-Americans. I had bigger worries than my heritage. I led him to where I kept my emergency medical kit. "She had benzos and booze- at a minimum. Bad combo." "What can it do?" You've seen the slurred speech and loss of consciousness, dizziness, drowsiness, and balance problems. Was she irritable or hostile?" "She snapped at some gal and she was a bit snarly about the music." "That scans. I'm worried that there can be additional respiratory and cardiovascular side effects with the two depressants. At least there hasn't been any…" Our noses wrinkled at the fecal smell. "Diarrhea." I sighed. At least it was a leather couch. "I'm going to stabilize her and call an ambulance. If you want to stay, fine. If you want to flee, I won't stop you. But if I find out you gave her those pills, then you are in a world of hurt. Capice?" He scoffed. "I don't need to slip a bint a Mickey Finn to shag her." He was conventionally good looking- like a young Robert Redford mixed with a young Sean Bean, though the results were a bit bland. Cute, but not really my type. I got on my cell to call 911 and kept vigil by the girl. He drove away before the ambulance arrived… in my car. He left his boosted ride in my driveway. That was not the only thing he stole. My menorah was gone and he took all the cookies from my plate and the box as well. The girl was underage- in fact a high schooler. She had been ordered by 'Brad' to pretend to be a college girl. Too bad for 'Brad' he worked out of Nashua, because now he is facing a Mann act bounce and serious Club Fed time. My car was recovered, with a full tank of gas, at Logan Airport two days later. I was detailing the encounter to a nice FBI agent and a Statie when the Fed gets a call. It turned out that Phaser had spent the three days before he came to my home conducting a brilliant data heist from MIT and three high tech companies. Solon compensated him very handsomely. The Silver Fencer theorized that he picked to girl up to keep me occupied so he could escape. I'm unsure if it gives him too much or too little credit. Either way I disagree. All my peers and I agreed that his swiping my menorah that I bought for twenty dollars at the Judaica store three blocks away was a crime of opportunity so he could brag to his crooked peers about the trophy. Flash forward six months later: ISHO regional summons me. Paragon is there. I'm surprised. He is kept busy enough in New York as is. "You have a package," he says. All packages get sent to regional to be scanned for safety. They opened it. Inside was a menorah. A beautiful menorah. A beautiful glass menorah. A beautiful Murano glass menorah from Venice. When the investigators tracked it to the source, the glassmakers cheerfully told them it was a custom order from a nice Englishman who paid fifteen thousand Euros. So now I have the ISHO internal affairs and the ethics board sweating me like I'm in a Turkish bath. I'm on probation and I am going to Mykonos. He's been spotted there with some fancy ladies he met in Rome and they've been living it up courtesy of his ill-gotten gains. I'm going to track him down. I am going to tell him that the girl is recovering well and getting the help she needs. I am going to tell him a very bad man is behind bars because of what he did. I am going to forgive him for my car and original menorah. Then I'm going to hit him so hard that his kids will be born dizzy!	"Who is she and why are you helping her?", the hero asks as he inquires the whole situation while seeing the villain storm in his house, "Help her and don't ask stupid questions. You're the hero, save her you dimwit", the villain replies angrily as he lays the girl on the couch. &#x200B; "What's the matter huh? You're the guy who kills women for his own personal pleasure and now you're trying to save one. Why is she so special, huh?", the hero strikes back as he turns the villain around to have him face the hero, "You don't need to know that. She's innocent and she doesn't deserve it", the villain says in a low tone as he walks to the door while longingly looking at the woman he brought, "I ain't helping her if you don't tell me who she is", the hero shouts. &#x200B; "Why? Do you think I am the jerk who kills women? Then kill me now but save her goddammit", the villain grabs his gun, a P1911, and hands it to the hero as he looks at him desperately, "If you really wanna know this, fine. She's the love of my life who I have been dating for years. I did all of this just for her" &#x200B; "You think killing random women would make her love you? You must be crazy", the hero says as he looks at him shocked, "yeah I know, it makes me bad but I only did this to protect her", the villain says furiously as he moves close to him, "but I couldn't save her this time", he breaks down as he starts to cry. &#x200B; The looks at him and then turns to the woman as she's still unconscious and drops the gun on the floor, "What if you are lying? You could be doing this just to prove a point that I am weak like you always have.", the hero sits next to him, "I won't trust you ever since you broke my trust years ago". "I know, ever since you found out I was doing this, things have never been the same for us, haven't they? I wish we can just go back to where we were", the villain says as he looks at him with teary eyes. "We could, but will you change? You only did this cause of your bloodlust and now you think I can forgive you because you love someone and have been killing those who is a danger to her? You haven't changed a bit brother", the hero says as he gets up &#x200B; Author's note: I will finish this, hopefully. Got busy with stuff right now
	[WP] The hero is enjoying a day off thanks to a rare quiet night in the city. That is until the villain shows up to her door, but carrying an unconscious woman and looking distraught. “I saved her from a party....I know this is weird, but I didn’t know who else to go to.”	It was odd. The last person I expected at my doorstep, especially on my coveted "hero's day of rest" I put aside for myself yearly, was Rax. He was cruel, he was brutal, he was deceitful... and yet, here he was with a young woman lying helplessly in his arms. "I understand this is odd," he begins after a few moments silence, "but you must help me. I rescued her from a party, and you were the only person I could think of who could assist." I take the girl whose current complexion can only be described as ghostly, and lay her on the couch. "Who is she? Why does she have any significance?" After some hesitation, Rax spoke. "She's a... ^(love interest.)" I figured I had heard him correctly, but he mumbled under his own breath in such a way that he thought he was discreet enough. "I'm sorry, can you repeat that?" "^(A love interest.)" "One more time?" "A love interest, okay, Arch? Please, help." There was a toxic sound and thick viscosity to his words that can only be described as vitriolic, so I figured continuing to press him would end badly. "Alright, alright, okay. What is the issue?" "Some form of toxin in her system. I'm unaware of which. I saw someone slip a pill. He's been... dealt with." He'd killed another man, but this time it was not in pure evil. It was in prevention. A hopeful latch onto something that he had known was a lost cause. "I... was too late, however. She'd already taken a drink, and had passed out shortly after a fit of nausea and vomiting. I expect it to be something no less of cyanide, unfortunately," Rax said, with an innate sense of dread pouring from his words. "I have already attempted to do any basic first-aid, and have attempted casting some of the healing spells I've used in our altercations, Arch, but to no avail did they succeed. I even attempted the one I used to take toxins out of my own system." After some looking, testing for basic vitals and doing some of my own tests, my heart sank. A woman I had not known even existed until now had somehow entered my frontal my lobe in the form of a splinter. "Rax, have you, uh... tried that revival spell that you used to heal Siel in that battle?" I have seen many things in my time as a hero for the planet. There are things that no man should want to ever see, and things that no man will ever see. When I tell you, then, that there is no worse sight than to see a man of capable of the cruelty such as locking someone inside an explosive the equivalent to 5 Hiroshima explosions have an expression of pure horror, pure sorrow, and pure regret, take my word for it that it can and will break the soul of any being with coherent thoughts in the matter of a second. "No... no, don't say that. Please, do not say that. I... no, no I refuse there's - there's another way, I-" The man's hands began to glow green. He was conjuring a healing spell of some form. "No, I'll fix this! Everything will-" A flash of green light came from the woman as he attempted to heal her. "Everything is going to be okay, I promise! I'm going to fix it-" Another flash of light, to no avail. "I'll fix it, please! I promise..." The man dropped to his knees and ended his attempts to heal the woman. He began to sob, and he fell to the floor in the fetal position. In an attempt to problem solve, hopefully, I spoke up, "...What about the revival spell I mentioned earlier...?" It took a minute for him to answer. His voice now conveyed a sense of how broken he was, now. A voice usually booming with confidence in every aspect had now become quiet, raspy, and soft. "...It wouldn't work... the revival spell only works on those who had an artificial power source, such as magic... biological specimens such as humans would return as the undead..." I began to problem solve more. If his healing spell can remove toxins, then the only thing preventing life is basic homeostasis. Something is preventing her body from returning life. "...Rax, what if we did something crazy for a change, just this once?" The man did not lift his head up, and did not change the position of his body, but his eyes darted in my direction as a sign of interest. "...I'm listening." "I have electricity, hence my name, Arch. Correct?" "...Yes, I suppose so." "So, what if you used your healing spell, and I focused my electricity to her chest region?" "...Are you attempting what I believe you are?" I give a smirk across my face. The man's eyes light up, and he springs to his feet almost as fast as he fell. "Please, let this work." With a flash of green, blue, and white, Rax focused his healing on her and I shocked the daylights out of her being. We repeated this process some 10, 20, possibly 30 times. Just as all hope was lost, a sound was heard. Breathing. Was it breathing? Yes, it definitely had to have been - no other sound in the area sounds like it, even with the wind blowing. As I look to my right, where Rax was standing, his eyes light up further as hope begins to build up. \------------ Two weeks went by. I kept the girl in my house, on the couch, to monitor her. She had begun breathing, but was still very frail and hadn't regained consciousness. Rax had not performed any actions as per usual, which is both depressing and a great change of pace for him. He stops at the house again, as he had been every day for the past two weeks. "Hello, Arch. Lovely day it is, today. A warm 78 and not a cloud in the sky." He had been in this melancholy sense of glee since our attempt at reviving. I let him in, and we ate for a bit together. Then, it happened. The woman began to wake up. She slowly sat up. "W...what happened? ...Jeb? Where am I?" Rax immediately ran to the couch, in tears. No words were exchanged between the two for five minutes. Despite it being my own home, I left the two of them alone for a bit. \------------ It's been a month since all of that incident went down. Since then, Jeb - I mean Rax - hadn't been doing any evil. I've become a very good friend of his, actually. I believe this may have changed him for the good. I don't know what happened in full detail, that fine day. What I do know, however, is that you don't know what it is you have until you lose it. I stick by this motto, and hopefully Rax does too.	"Who is she and why are you helping her?", the hero asks as he inquires the whole situation while seeing the villain storm in his house, "Help her and don't ask stupid questions. You're the hero, save her you dimwit", the villain replies angrily as he lays the girl on the couch. &#x200B; "What's the matter huh? You're the guy who kills women for his own personal pleasure and now you're trying to save one. Why is she so special, huh?", the hero strikes back as he turns the villain around to have him face the hero, "You don't need to know that. She's innocent and she doesn't deserve it", the villain says in a low tone as he walks to the door while longingly looking at the woman he brought, "I ain't helping her if you don't tell me who she is", the hero shouts. &#x200B; "Why? Do you think I am the jerk who kills women? Then kill me now but save her goddammit", the villain grabs his gun, a P1911, and hands it to the hero as he looks at him desperately, "If you really wanna know this, fine. She's the love of my life who I have been dating for years. I did all of this just for her" &#x200B; "You think killing random women would make her love you? You must be crazy", the hero says as he looks at him shocked, "yeah I know, it makes me bad but I only did this to protect her", the villain says furiously as he moves close to him, "but I couldn't save her this time", he breaks down as he starts to cry. &#x200B; The looks at him and then turns to the woman as she's still unconscious and drops the gun on the floor, "What if you are lying? You could be doing this just to prove a point that I am weak like you always have.", the hero sits next to him, "I won't trust you ever since you broke my trust years ago". "I know, ever since you found out I was doing this, things have never been the same for us, haven't they? I wish we can just go back to where we were", the villain says as he looks at him with teary eyes. "We could, but will you change? You only did this cause of your bloodlust and now you think I can forgive you because you love someone and have been killing those who is a danger to her? You haven't changed a bit brother", the hero says as he gets up &#x200B; Author's note: I will finish this, hopefully. Got busy with stuff right now
	[WP] The hero is enjoying a day off thanks to a rare quiet night in the city. That is until the villain shows up to her door, but carrying an unconscious woman and looking distraught. “I saved her from a party....I know this is weird, but I didn’t know who else to go to.”	The young lad, for once, had a very pleasant night. Nothing out of the ordinary but he still won't let his guard down and carry his sword, even at his own home. He decided for a nightly stroll but was greeted by his masked enemy, the Duke of Tricks, at his doorstep. He took a step back and on guard readying for an attack. "My, my, is this how you treat your guest, young hero?" "Duke of Tricks! Why are you here!?" "Just a little visit for my sweet little toy. But I'm not here for our play time. No, I'm here to send you a little gift from me to you." In his hand was a handkerchief. With a flick of it comes a floating unconscious woman. "Worry her not, she is unharmed." as he gently lay her down on the hard wood floor. "And you expect me to believe that coming from you?" "Throughout our battles it has only between us. Hostages are too uncivilized for me." "And what's your deal with her now? Some sort of another trick? A game?" "You ask to many questions. Stop worry about me and start worry about her. Her state was like this when I found her, right by a party, the ruckus those hooligans make. Knowinglly, I know we had our differences but tend this girl for me. She is rather interesting. "As if I'd say no to anyone, but this one's different because it's you. Why?" "Believe me child, I would love to elaborate but that would ruin the surprise won't it? I'll give you a hint though. It involves you, her, and A GRAND SHOW THIS KINGDOM WILL NEVER FORGET. Best part is that I get to have the best seat." "Wait, what do you mean best-" "Ta~Ta~" And just like that, he vanished under the veil of smoke with his usual trademark doll of him, smirking at his escape. This is my first time, I hope you liked it.	I was watching Cops when I hear a knock at the door, “awesome my pizza!” I thought while walking over to the door, when I open the door, I almost shot fire at him, until I saw what he was holding. “Hello heatwave.” This takes me aback, “how do you?” He chuckles, “you are really bad at hiding your identity, but that’s not why I am here...” I look at the girl, she was blonde and had freckles over her nose, “who is she?” I ask sternly, “her name is Sarah, I was casing a house to rob when I saw some men harass this woman, and when the ‘bouncer’ attempted to clear them out, they started shooting, and she got hit in the head and trampled by a mass of people, I know, we are enemies, I hate you, and you hate me, but I don’t know where else to go.” I sigh and let him in. I was weary to let him in, but as soon as I let him in he threw his mask off and laid her on my table, “quiet! I have a family!” He winces, “sorry.” He says still focused on Sarah. “Why do you care so much about this one, there must have been other people.” He looks at me, and I recognize his face, “John?” I had went to high school with him, we was an outcast, he had very little friends, then it dawned on me, the only friend he ever had was a blonde lady named Sarah, but she went off to collage after high school, “you figured it out. Good job. Now help me save her. Please!” “I have no medical knowledge, especially on trauma, I don’t know what you want me to do.” He sighs and slumps into one of my chairs defeated, “I just don’t want her do die.” I realize that even if he is a villain, he is still human, and he has people he cares about, “I will take her to the hospital, see what they can do, if you need, you can stay here. Just, if you touch my family, or do any bad while staying here l will boil you alive.” He nods, “thank you. So much” It took a week and a half, but she made a full recovery, and we learned a lot about each other, but when she was discharged, it was back to the old grind with him. But, that is how we both liked it.
	[WP] The hero is enjoying a day off thanks to a rare quiet night in the city. That is until the villain shows up to her door, but carrying an unconscious woman and looking distraught. “I saved her from a party....I know this is weird, but I didn’t know who else to go to.”	Recluse is lounging on her couch watching Hugh Jackman dance and sing across rooftops when someone pounds on her door. She should have known taking a night off wouldn’t end well. The cottage is a gift from the Mayor; a thank you for her discrete participation in tracking down magi-tech that made its way into the underground. It’s on the outskirts of the city nestled in the National Park, it’s cozy, everything is state of the art, it could resist a bomb blast, and most importantly it’s cloaked. &#x200B; The pounding continues, followed by shouting, “I know you’re in there!” &#x200B; So whoever is at her door is someone the Mayor trusts, meaning she can’t just pretend not to be home. With a sigh, Recluse pauses her movie, vaults over her couch, and opens the door. &#x200B; “Y-” &#x200B; The word dies on her lips as she sees the dark cloak with gold highlights and pure white glowing eyes. &#x200B; “Eris!” &#x200B; The warlock’s tale-tell gold sparks are fading in the night behind them. She must have magic-ed her way past security. Recluse tenses ready for a brawl. &#x200B; “I’m not here to fight,” Eris throws a hand up, “I need your help.” &#x200B; For the first time Recluse notices the second figure Eris’s is supporting and the frantic look on the warlock’s face. &#x200B; “We were at a party; there was trouble. I got her out of there but, she’s not right, I think she’s-” &#x200B; Recluse inspects over the woman strung over Eris’s should looking for injuries. The woman’s pulse is rapid, and she’s pale and clammy despite being unconscious. Gently, Recluse checks the woman’s eyes. One is bright green, the pupil a strange oval shape, the other blue with green and yellow creeping across it. On a whim, she pulls up the woman’s lips to reveal teeth that don’t look quite right. &#x200B; “I know this is weird, but I didn’t know who else to go to,” Eris continues. &#x200B; The woman is going through ‘The Change.’ She's mutating. &#x200B; “Shit,” Recluse mutters.	I was watching Cops when I hear a knock at the door, “awesome my pizza!” I thought while walking over to the door, when I open the door, I almost shot fire at him, until I saw what he was holding. “Hello heatwave.” This takes me aback, “how do you?” He chuckles, “you are really bad at hiding your identity, but that’s not why I am here...” I look at the girl, she was blonde and had freckles over her nose, “who is she?” I ask sternly, “her name is Sarah, I was casing a house to rob when I saw some men harass this woman, and when the ‘bouncer’ attempted to clear them out, they started shooting, and she got hit in the head and trampled by a mass of people, I know, we are enemies, I hate you, and you hate me, but I don’t know where else to go.” I sigh and let him in. I was weary to let him in, but as soon as I let him in he threw his mask off and laid her on my table, “quiet! I have a family!” He winces, “sorry.” He says still focused on Sarah. “Why do you care so much about this one, there must have been other people.” He looks at me, and I recognize his face, “John?” I had went to high school with him, we was an outcast, he had very little friends, then it dawned on me, the only friend he ever had was a blonde lady named Sarah, but she went off to collage after high school, “you figured it out. Good job. Now help me save her. Please!” “I have no medical knowledge, especially on trauma, I don’t know what you want me to do.” He sighs and slumps into one of my chairs defeated, “I just don’t want her do die.” I realize that even if he is a villain, he is still human, and he has people he cares about, “I will take her to the hospital, see what they can do, if you need, you can stay here. Just, if you touch my family, or do any bad while staying here l will boil you alive.” He nods, “thank you. So much” It took a week and a half, but she made a full recovery, and we learned a lot about each other, but when she was discharged, it was back to the old grind with him. But, that is how we both liked it.
	[WP] The hero is enjoying a day off thanks to a rare quiet night in the city. That is until the villain shows up to her door, but carrying an unconscious woman and looking distraught. “I saved her from a party....I know this is weird, but I didn’t know who else to go to.”	Samuel stared. For a second, he hadn't even recognized Bête Noir. His waist long hair, instead of it's usual ponytail, was hanging down, dripping some sort of black grease onto the pavement. Beyond that, it seemed Bête Noir had quite a few scars under his mask. Samuel hadn't realized the extent of the scarring. Normally, Bête Noir's mask covered all his facial deformities. The left side of his face was fairly normal, despite the fresh cuts on it. The right side was Phantom Of The Opera levels of disfigured. The left side of Bête Noir's mouth, for example, had no lips. Strings of skin connected the two halves of his mouth as if he was melting. His teeth were visible at all times, which wasn't helped by the fact that they were yellow and quite a few were broken. His right eye was wide, and Bête Noir's eyelids barely covered it when he blinked. Bête Noir also didn't have a right cheek. It was just muscle under some sort of clear cover. "...You want to help someone?" "Are you gonna help me, or should I just leave?" "Depends. I need you to explain who this woman is." Bête Noir scowled. At least Samuel guessed that was what he was doing. It was hard to see expressions on a half melted face. "What does it matter to you?!" "I can't help you if you keep being difficult!" Bête Noir growled, but didn't produce any sort of retort. "...This woman just so happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, and got caught in an explosion-" "An explosion?!" "Power surge, but that's not the point. This is just some random pregnant woman who got caught in the explosion. She wasn't even going to the party, she was just cleanup crew for the rich kids there. That's why you need to help her." Samuel sighed. "Fine. I'll call an ambulance." He sighed and pulled out his phone to dial 911. "...thank you." Bête Noir crouched down and placed the woman gently on the pavement. As soon as Bête Noir began standing back up, Samuel kicked him in the head. Bête Noir landed with a thud. "Ow! What the fuck?!" "The cops are going to haul you away soon, so just sit still." Bête Noir tried to sit up, but he didn't have the strength. Samuel hadn't ever taken the time to notice, but Bête Noir was incredibly thin. Some of his bones could be seen poking out of his body, due to there not being enough space for them. It was concerning, but Bête Noir was a villain. He needed to be detained so as to reduce the danger on the streets. "Next time you fuck me over, maybe be a bit more gentle?" Bête Noir snarked. "Are you seriously going to make jokes right now?" "If I can somehow be a nuisance, I will be." Bête Noir coughed before laughing. "That said, I have somewhere to be." Bête Noir suddenly bit his hand. The blood poured out and turned into a near opaque purple gas. Samuel tried to grab at where the villain had been before, but he was gone. "God damn it."	I was watching Cops when I hear a knock at the door, “awesome my pizza!” I thought while walking over to the door, when I open the door, I almost shot fire at him, until I saw what he was holding. “Hello heatwave.” This takes me aback, “how do you?” He chuckles, “you are really bad at hiding your identity, but that’s not why I am here...” I look at the girl, she was blonde and had freckles over her nose, “who is she?” I ask sternly, “her name is Sarah, I was casing a house to rob when I saw some men harass this woman, and when the ‘bouncer’ attempted to clear them out, they started shooting, and she got hit in the head and trampled by a mass of people, I know, we are enemies, I hate you, and you hate me, but I don’t know where else to go.” I sigh and let him in. I was weary to let him in, but as soon as I let him in he threw his mask off and laid her on my table, “quiet! I have a family!” He winces, “sorry.” He says still focused on Sarah. “Why do you care so much about this one, there must have been other people.” He looks at me, and I recognize his face, “John?” I had went to high school with him, we was an outcast, he had very little friends, then it dawned on me, the only friend he ever had was a blonde lady named Sarah, but she went off to collage after high school, “you figured it out. Good job. Now help me save her. Please!” “I have no medical knowledge, especially on trauma, I don’t know what you want me to do.” He sighs and slumps into one of my chairs defeated, “I just don’t want her do die.” I realize that even if he is a villain, he is still human, and he has people he cares about, “I will take her to the hospital, see what they can do, if you need, you can stay here. Just, if you touch my family, or do any bad while staying here l will boil you alive.” He nods, “thank you. So much” It took a week and a half, but she made a full recovery, and we learned a lot about each other, but when she was discharged, it was back to the old grind with him. But, that is how we both liked it.
	[WP] The hero is enjoying a day off thanks to a rare quiet night in the city. That is until the villain shows up to her door, but carrying an unconscious woman and looking distraught. “I saved her from a party....I know this is weird, but I didn’t know who else to go to.”	When I became a villain there wasn't exactly a need to know medical things. Sure, with time, I learned to dress my own wounds but that was the limit to my abilities. I knew I had no other choice, didn't feel safe dropping her off somewhere and hospitals weren't a choice since police were there and it was rather annoying to have to deal with. So I clumsily pulled my mask over my head and went to the place I knew the hero would be. She blinked at me, in fact she hadn't stopped blinking at me as if she was torn between attacking me and helping the girl. Well obviously there was a reason she was a hero. She helped me take the girl into her dining room, we both carefully laid the girl down. I quickly moved several feet away, pressing myself into a corner so it was clear I wasn't here to attack the hero. "What happened?" I could see the tenseness in her shoulders but she had most of her attention on the girl, checking her over. I rub my forehead, the throbbing sensation of a headache appearing. "I was walking down the street and heard a girl screaming, then she wasn't. When I ran over there it was several guys." I mutter, my shoulders tucked in so far I think I might just disappear. Now that I wasn't focused on the girl I could feel the pain in my own body from having to fight off three guys with only my fists and make shift weapons. I already could feel a large bruise forming across my ribs from one of them slamming a metal pipe against my side. The bastards didn't know what to do when they came across a woman that could actually fight them. I saw the hero glance over at me, I knew it bugged her that I knew her supposed secret identity though I never really thought to use that to my advantage. I knew she had a younger brother that just started his first year of college, he served me coffee every morning. I knew her father passed when she was little from a car accident and that her mother was getting sicker in the hospital from some disease they couldn't name. I wondered if it bothered her, the fact that we could defend ourselves but others couldn't. I made the mental note to send the woman, that attacked woman, a few places she could go to learn self defense. "You got to her on time luckily, she just has a couple bruises but I can take care of her from here." The message was clear. I nodded to someone who wasn't even paying attention and finally moved forward to go to the door. Instantly there was a knife pointed towards my throat. I ignored the slight ache in my chest and stared at the hero. Without her silly outfit, not that mine was any better, she looked mundane in the most striking way possible. In costume it was easy to think she was more than human but standing in the living room, her home a place full of herself, she was utterly human. I could tell how exposed she felt so I took a small step back and held my hands up. "I'm just leaving." I say carefully. The hero blinks, it's then I notice how long her lashes are, and slowly puts down her own knife. "Why did you do it?" For a moment I'm confused then it hits me and I can't help but scoff loudly. This causes me to wince and my fingers twitch to hold my side but I had long since learned to hide my weaknesses. However the hero is too observant and I see, if I dare say, concern flash in her eyes. "Right, I'm a terrible monster so I would never help a person in danger." I say, injecting as much venom and sarcasm in my voice. I don't want her concern. She bites her lip and glances over at the girl, I almost want to scoff again, of course that's what she thought. I move forward again, probably a little to fast, because then my back is being slammed against the floor and I have a knife pressing against my throat this time. I bite down hard to keep from making a noise of pain. "Alright, next time I'll just let the person get killed. How's that?" I ask but the hero looks too distracted and suddenly I feel her fingers pressing into my shoulders. "What are you doing?" I hiss but then she digs them into my rib cage and it's so unexpected I yelp, the ending of the sound muffled as I bite my tongue and press my lips together. I resist the urge to cuss her out as best as possible. Then the knife is moving off my throat and towards my side. My body freezes and I go into panic mode, despite the soreness of my body I maneuver the knife out of her hands and then roll us over to press the knife against her chest. "Listen, I'm not here to hurt you or anyone. I wanted to drop off the girl-" "I was trying to check." She cuts me off in a huff, looking annoyed. "Check?" (1/2)	I was watching Cops when I hear a knock at the door, “awesome my pizza!” I thought while walking over to the door, when I open the door, I almost shot fire at him, until I saw what he was holding. “Hello heatwave.” This takes me aback, “how do you?” He chuckles, “you are really bad at hiding your identity, but that’s not why I am here...” I look at the girl, she was blonde and had freckles over her nose, “who is she?” I ask sternly, “her name is Sarah, I was casing a house to rob when I saw some men harass this woman, and when the ‘bouncer’ attempted to clear them out, they started shooting, and she got hit in the head and trampled by a mass of people, I know, we are enemies, I hate you, and you hate me, but I don’t know where else to go.” I sigh and let him in. I was weary to let him in, but as soon as I let him in he threw his mask off and laid her on my table, “quiet! I have a family!” He winces, “sorry.” He says still focused on Sarah. “Why do you care so much about this one, there must have been other people.” He looks at me, and I recognize his face, “John?” I had went to high school with him, we was an outcast, he had very little friends, then it dawned on me, the only friend he ever had was a blonde lady named Sarah, but she went off to collage after high school, “you figured it out. Good job. Now help me save her. Please!” “I have no medical knowledge, especially on trauma, I don’t know what you want me to do.” He sighs and slumps into one of my chairs defeated, “I just don’t want her do die.” I realize that even if he is a villain, he is still human, and he has people he cares about, “I will take her to the hospital, see what they can do, if you need, you can stay here. Just, if you touch my family, or do any bad while staying here l will boil you alive.” He nods, “thank you. So much” It took a week and a half, but she made a full recovery, and we learned a lot about each other, but when she was discharged, it was back to the old grind with him. But, that is how we both liked it.
	[WP] The hero is enjoying a day off thanks to a rare quiet night in the city. That is until the villain shows up to her door, but carrying an unconscious woman and looking distraught. “I saved her from a party....I know this is weird, but I didn’t know who else to go to.”	"Maria!" She shouts and looks at him with fire in her eyes. "Now, before you jump to conclusions I... ugh!" The villain floats inches from the ground, choked by some invisible force. With her right hand our hero telepathically draws the unconscious young lady into her home and with her right she drags the villain struggling through the air. He falls to the ground and swallows gulps of air clutching at his throat. "God! Damn! You! Woman!" He screams, breathes, screams, brrathes until his repiration comes to order. "Talk!" She lifts him up again, his arms sprawled to the sides. "Mesmer! What the fuck are you doing?! This is Maria! Do you really think I would hurt her?! Think woman!" He appeals to her desperately. Hurt, but not by the psychic pressure but by her pressumption of his misdeed. She lowers him gently. Magnus is a heinous villain with blood all the way up to his elbows, but Maria was the one person she knows he wouldn't hurt. Couldn't hurt. "Explain this." She says to him in a gentler yet wary tone. "I was, following her, as usual. Keeping an eye on her." Magnus looks sheepish. Almost like the young boy she knew. "She went to that club, Aces. Terrible place. She has a few drinks, has a bit of fun. Regular stuff. Then suddenly her knees buckle and she topples over. A big guy tried to carry her away." He almost smiled, she saw it. A hungry feral look came and then went on his face like a flash. Magnus of the many faces. She didn't have to ask about the big guy, she knew. "And you took her here? Why?" "God damn it Mesmer she's your sister! Our sister! Besides where would I take her? To father? He would have turned me to ashes." She bites her tongue. He doesn't know about father yet. Best he doesn't know for now. "Why didn't she use her powers?" Maria had some incredible gifts, not least of all future sight. How could this have happened? "Thats the thing Mesmer. Whoever came after her knew of her powers and nullified them. This is something I thought you might be interested in." There it is again, a flicker of another face. A concerned one? Calculating? You can never tell with Magnus. Maria stirs. They both look her way. "Bomb! A bomb! Get down!" Boooooom!	I was watching Cops when I hear a knock at the door, “awesome my pizza!” I thought while walking over to the door, when I open the door, I almost shot fire at him, until I saw what he was holding. “Hello heatwave.” This takes me aback, “how do you?” He chuckles, “you are really bad at hiding your identity, but that’s not why I am here...” I look at the girl, she was blonde and had freckles over her nose, “who is she?” I ask sternly, “her name is Sarah, I was casing a house to rob when I saw some men harass this woman, and when the ‘bouncer’ attempted to clear them out, they started shooting, and she got hit in the head and trampled by a mass of people, I know, we are enemies, I hate you, and you hate me, but I don’t know where else to go.” I sigh and let him in. I was weary to let him in, but as soon as I let him in he threw his mask off and laid her on my table, “quiet! I have a family!” He winces, “sorry.” He says still focused on Sarah. “Why do you care so much about this one, there must have been other people.” He looks at me, and I recognize his face, “John?” I had went to high school with him, we was an outcast, he had very little friends, then it dawned on me, the only friend he ever had was a blonde lady named Sarah, but she went off to collage after high school, “you figured it out. Good job. Now help me save her. Please!” “I have no medical knowledge, especially on trauma, I don’t know what you want me to do.” He sighs and slumps into one of my chairs defeated, “I just don’t want her do die.” I realize that even if he is a villain, he is still human, and he has people he cares about, “I will take her to the hospital, see what they can do, if you need, you can stay here. Just, if you touch my family, or do any bad while staying here l will boil you alive.” He nods, “thank you. So much” It took a week and a half, but she made a full recovery, and we learned a lot about each other, but when she was discharged, it was back to the old grind with him. But, that is how we both liked it.
	[WP] The hero is enjoying a day off thanks to a rare quiet night in the city. That is until the villain shows up to her door, but carrying an unconscious woman and looking distraught. “I saved her from a party....I know this is weird, but I didn’t know who else to go to.”	Angie froze, doorknob in her left hand, glass of wine in her right. “Clayton,” she hissed. Tossing the wine aside, she dove to her right for the shield she kept there, rolled, and came up crouched low behind it, bracing for his attack. “Angela, please.” His pained voice cracked. Why isn’t he attacking? Gingerly, she peered over the top of her shield. His broad silhouette filled the door frame. His face tear-streaked, he struggled with something heavy in his arms. Not something. Someone. “Ruby?!?” Her shield clattered to the floor, and she closed the distance between them in a single leap. “WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER?” she screamed, effortlessly taking Ruby’s limp body from him. “Nothing,” he croaked. “I saved her from a party… I know this is weird, but I didn’t know who else to go to.” On her floor, Angie cradled the young woman in her arms. Fighting tears, her fingers searched frantically for a pulse as her eyes found the labored rising and falling of Ruby's chest. There. Slow, but there. She eyed the blue tinge around Ruby’s lips. “NARCAN!” she barked at Clayton. “In the bathroom, above the sink!” Clayton jumped, but thankful for direction, he hurried down the hall. Angie gently laid her baby girl on the floor. She hadn’t seen Ruby in over a year, ever since that awful fight the evening of Ruby’s 18th birthday. I told her no drugs under my roof. Where had she been? Had she been using all this time? Clayton returned with the Narcan. Angie tilted Ruby’s head back. Holding Ruby’s mouth shut with her left thumb, she pinched Ruby’s right nostril closed with her index finger, and using her right hand, she inserted the tip of the Narcan in Ruby’s left nostril. She pressed the plunger. Now we wait. Angie carefully rolled Ruby onto her right side, tucking her hand under her head in the recovery position. Clayton knelt down beside her. Wiping tears away with the back of her hand, Angie looked over her daughter’s body, into the eyes of her arch-nemesis. “How did you know?” He looked down, almost ashamedly, “People talk. I hear more than most, given my position.” Angie nodded, “Well, thank you for bringing her home, but I think you should leave now.” He lifted pleading blue eyes to meet hers, “Angie, please,” he said. “She’s my daughter, too.”	I was watching Cops when I hear a knock at the door, “awesome my pizza!” I thought while walking over to the door, when I open the door, I almost shot fire at him, until I saw what he was holding. “Hello heatwave.” This takes me aback, “how do you?” He chuckles, “you are really bad at hiding your identity, but that’s not why I am here...” I look at the girl, she was blonde and had freckles over her nose, “who is she?” I ask sternly, “her name is Sarah, I was casing a house to rob when I saw some men harass this woman, and when the ‘bouncer’ attempted to clear them out, they started shooting, and she got hit in the head and trampled by a mass of people, I know, we are enemies, I hate you, and you hate me, but I don’t know where else to go.” I sigh and let him in. I was weary to let him in, but as soon as I let him in he threw his mask off and laid her on my table, “quiet! I have a family!” He winces, “sorry.” He says still focused on Sarah. “Why do you care so much about this one, there must have been other people.” He looks at me, and I recognize his face, “John?” I had went to high school with him, we was an outcast, he had very little friends, then it dawned on me, the only friend he ever had was a blonde lady named Sarah, but she went off to collage after high school, “you figured it out. Good job. Now help me save her. Please!” “I have no medical knowledge, especially on trauma, I don’t know what you want me to do.” He sighs and slumps into one of my chairs defeated, “I just don’t want her do die.” I realize that even if he is a villain, he is still human, and he has people he cares about, “I will take her to the hospital, see what they can do, if you need, you can stay here. Just, if you touch my family, or do any bad while staying here l will boil you alive.” He nods, “thank you. So much” It took a week and a half, but she made a full recovery, and we learned a lot about each other, but when she was discharged, it was back to the old grind with him. But, that is how we both liked it.
	[WP] The hero is enjoying a day off thanks to a rare quiet night in the city. That is until the villain shows up to her door, but carrying an unconscious woman and looking distraught. “I saved her from a party....I know this is weird, but I didn’t know who else to go to.”	Pounding on my door; then, a low voice: “Angel!” Someone in search of a hero, then. I didn’t recognize the man through the peephole, nor the teenaged girl slumped against him. He knocked again. “I can see your shadow through the peephole,” he said. “She needs your help.” I opened the door as far as the chain allowed. It was supposed to be my night off. I’d just helped the police round up the leadership of the Vipers, a nasty gang with connections to international arms smugglers. And Dr. Peterman had promised not to give out my home address anymore. “Who are you?” He looked confused. “Huh? Angel, you know me.” He shifted the girl to point at his face. There was something vaguely familiar about the shape of his jaw. He sighed and covered his eyes with his hand. “Firewalker!” I fell back on instinct, lighting my hands in cold white flame. I could feel the flames at my back, too, like wings. That face—albeit obscured by a mask—was on every wall of every precinct in the city. Dr. Peterman had sent me against him twice already, though he’d always managed to evade me. And now he stood outside my door. A few heartbeats passed, as I waited for Firewalker to burst through the security chain and attack. Then I heard the unmistakeable chunky gurgle and splat of someone vomiting. “Helen, I didn’t have anywhere else to bring her.” The flames from my hands dissipated almost without conscious thought. He knew my name. Firewalker knew my name and where I lived, but he hadn’t come to fight me. I reapproached the door. “What’s wrong with her?” The girl was pale, her eyes unfocused. “I found her at a party. I think... something bad was going to happen to her.” Firewalker looked into my eyes, then. “She just needs a safe place to sleep it off.” Against my better judgment, I let them in. Firewalker half-dragged the girl to my peeling pleather couch. “How do you know my real name?” I asked, reaching for the Advil in my kitchen cabinet. “I knew you... before. I mean, I remember you. I used to be a security guard at BRI. You signed in to visit Dr. Peterman every Tuesday at 3.” I filled a glass at the sink. “Were you there, when—” Even four months later, I struggled to put into words what had happened to me in the lab that day. Dr. Peterman was mentoring me through my thesis, and that day he’d wanted to show me his new project. Then— pain, and unbearable light, and screaming, and the white flames. “Yeah.” Firewalker interrupted. “Yeah, I was there. How do you think this happened?” He shook his hand with a snap and his fingers ignited in yellow flame. I stared. “You’re like me?” He stared back. “I thought you saw me at First Union Bank. And at the Mayor’s victory party.” “Well I knew you were an arsonist but I didn’t know you were like me.” Firewalker frowned. “I’m not an arsonist.” Then he hissed a little and shook the flames out again. I set the water and pills down next to the girl. “Your flames hurt you?” I took his hand to examine it. The pads of his fingers were puffy and shiny. “Uh... yeah.” His voice sounded strangled, and I felt uncomfortably close. I dropped his hand. “Yours... don’t?” “No. Never.” The girl moaned a little, then, and Firewalker turned to check on her. “You think I’m an arsonist?” He asked. “You set First Union on fire.” I reminded him. “I thought BRI was keeping evidence in a safe deposit box. No one got hurt.” “You hurt all those people at the Mayor’s.” I heard my own voice rising. “And you killed all the people on that barge last month.” “I didn’t have anything to do with the barge fire.” Firewalker snapped back. “And the Mayor’s? I burned my way into the back room, sure. But then you set the whole ballroom on fire. I appreciated the distraction while I escaped, but that was pretty reckless.” “I wasn’t trying to help you escape! I was trying to corner you!” Firewalker took a big step back. “You... you wanted to capture me? Why?” “You’re at the top of every most wanted list! Dr. Peterman said—” Firewalker exploded. “You’re actually working with that guy? After what he did to you? I thought you were infiltrating BRI to bring them down, but you’re actually just their... their goon?” I felt queasy. “I’m... I fight crime.” “Helen... BRI is a front company for a major criminal enterprise. They’ve been experimenting on people for years. They’ve bought off the Mayor and half the police. They’re exterminating the Vipers, though I haven’t figured out why yet. I mean, good riddance, but there’s got to be some profit in it for them.” I sat down, hard. Firewalker suddenly looked horrified. “Did you kill the others on purpose? Jenny and Ty and Chance?” “I fight villains.” I said weakly. “You. You’re a villain.” “Who told you I was a villain?” Firewalker almost looked sorry for me. “Who told you that you were a hero, Helen?” *Edited to (attempt to) fix formatting.	I was watching Cops when I hear a knock at the door, “awesome my pizza!” I thought while walking over to the door, when I open the door, I almost shot fire at him, until I saw what he was holding. “Hello heatwave.” This takes me aback, “how do you?” He chuckles, “you are really bad at hiding your identity, but that’s not why I am here...” I look at the girl, she was blonde and had freckles over her nose, “who is she?” I ask sternly, “her name is Sarah, I was casing a house to rob when I saw some men harass this woman, and when the ‘bouncer’ attempted to clear them out, they started shooting, and she got hit in the head and trampled by a mass of people, I know, we are enemies, I hate you, and you hate me, but I don’t know where else to go.” I sigh and let him in. I was weary to let him in, but as soon as I let him in he threw his mask off and laid her on my table, “quiet! I have a family!” He winces, “sorry.” He says still focused on Sarah. “Why do you care so much about this one, there must have been other people.” He looks at me, and I recognize his face, “John?” I had went to high school with him, we was an outcast, he had very little friends, then it dawned on me, the only friend he ever had was a blonde lady named Sarah, but she went off to collage after high school, “you figured it out. Good job. Now help me save her. Please!” “I have no medical knowledge, especially on trauma, I don’t know what you want me to do.” He sighs and slumps into one of my chairs defeated, “I just don’t want her do die.” I realize that even if he is a villain, he is still human, and he has people he cares about, “I will take her to the hospital, see what they can do, if you need, you can stay here. Just, if you touch my family, or do any bad while staying here l will boil you alive.” He nods, “thank you. So much” It took a week and a half, but she made a full recovery, and we learned a lot about each other, but when she was discharged, it was back to the old grind with him. But, that is how we both liked it.
	[WP] The hero is enjoying a day off thanks to a rare quiet night in the city. That is until the villain shows up to her door, but carrying an unconscious woman and looking distraught. “I saved her from a party....I know this is weird, but I didn’t know who else to go to.”	File this one under 'No good deed goes unpunished.' So, I was at home, enjoying what I expected to be a quiet night. Miserable March weather just with wintery wet is a friend to the super-heroine. When it rains cats and dogs, criminals stay indoors. Hot summer nights are my busiest time. The town is wall-to-wall assholes looking for trouble and victims and finding both. I had just gotten out of the bubble bath and was about halfway through that history of New Hollywood Johnny Noir recommended and was waiting for the kettle to boil for my chamomile tea. Of course my bell rang. I sighed and put my e-reader aside and looked wistfully at the plate of shortbread cookies by my cup. "One minute please," I said as I stepped into my panties and sweats simultaneously. "Leah, it's an emergency," the person outside shouted. I paused, both because of his urgency and because the voice was familiar but I couldn't place it. So, skip the brassiere and put on a T-Shirt with and open hoodie from my last medical school reunion. I looked through the door cam. Male, Caucasian with light hair plastered to his forehead. Height- five eleven, with skinny build- call it a buck fifty. Age- I'd say upper twenties. He wore a heavy dark single breasted overcoat. But it was the thin girl cradled in his arms that concerned me. Caucasian her dark hair was straight and lank as it hung loosely from her lolling head. I'd be surprised if she were old enough to drink legally. If this guy was tall and lean, the girl was short and painfully thin. The hospital said she wasn't even a C-note on the scale, even though she was 5'3''. But I am getting ahead of myself. I flung open the door and the man shoved his way into my foyer. He looked panicked- distraught and said as he stumbled to the nearest couch, “I saved her from a party....I know this is weird, but I didn’t know who else to go to.” And that's when I realized- seeing that dirty blonde hair and cockney accent… "PHASER!" I brought my fields up and focused my energy into my hands. "Listen, Aurora," he said, "can we not do the brawling nonsense… the girl…" I stopped my hand energy, but kept my shields up. "And how did you know…" "Where you live? Most of us know. Some bugger had the bright idea to keep a watch on your house. Plant a camera or something. But once you're out the door, 'VOOM!'" "Sounds like Solon." I considered the situation as he placed the girl on the couch. Underneath her shabby car coat she wore a black sparkly cocktail dress that was cut very high in front and with a skirt so short that it left little to the imagination. Her matching stilettos were scuffed- and I suspect them were responsible for the scrape on her right cheek. "I know you hate me…" "Phaser, I don't hate you. You vex me, but hate? No. You're a crook- a master thief, but you've never hurt anyone in any of your operations and never offered violence against anything besides a safe door or alarm system. Almost anyone else and you'd be spitting teeth." I lowered my shields and went to the girl. I turned over my shoulder and said, "Don't think I'm not keeping an eye on you." He was a slippery customer- literally. His ability to change into gas or liquid and his sticky fingers kept him high on the International Super Hero Organization's hit parade, even if the worst injury anyone suffered in his long crime spree was a twisted ankle while in hot pursuit. I checked the girl and my dislike for Phaser dissipated like he did in the Diamond District job last May. Her pulse was erratic and breathing shallow. "Tell me what happened and why take her to my doorstep and not an emergency room?" "I was at a loft party in Alston." He paused as if he said too much. I supposed he shrugged but I was seeing how the kid's eyes reacted to the light from my fingertips. "I was celebrating my latest job, I suppose you'll be reading about it in The Herald. Anyhow, the party was one of these underground things- not legal, not licensed, but usually good fun. DJ, fetish costumes, full bar, women…" Not my idea of a good time as you may surmise but I was not judging. But the sub rosa nature of the gathering may explain why he was unwilling to go about a mile further to the hospitals nearby. "So I was hitting on her, and we were drinking… She was having some kinda punch there. I had a couple of beers from the keg. Her name is Liz. Uh… There were other blokes there. I dunno. Maybe someone doctored her drink?" I mean she was taking something too…" He held out her purse. I poured out the contents: breath mints and a prescription bottle with the label removed. I opened the cap and groaned when I saw the rainbow within. It was a Physician's Desk Reference pharmacopeia pop quiz. At this point, thankfully, her eyes fluttered and she groaned. "Liz? Is that your name, honey?" She moaned affirmatively. "Can you tell me what's wrong?" "I go to Northeastern." "That's useful," Phaser said from my dining room. "Brad said he had some Chilli Willies… I met this cute guy. Older dude. I had some of the punch. They said there was grain in it." "Chilli Willies?" Phaser asked. "It's a street term for a Benzodiazepine. Kid mixed it with strong booze. Yeah, she's gonna be a mess." I stood up. "Honey, you lie there a while. I'm going to get my bag we'll get you better, OK?" Phaser was in front of the cupboard in my dining room admiring my silver collection. Indicating my menorah he said, "I didn't know you were Jewish." It's one of the joys of being mixed race. And yes, Cohen is not an uncommon surname among African-Americans. I had bigger worries than my heritage. I led him to where I kept my emergency medical kit. "She had benzos and booze- at a minimum. Bad combo." "What can it do?" You've seen the slurred speech and loss of consciousness, dizziness, drowsiness, and balance problems. Was she irritable or hostile?" "She snapped at some gal and she was a bit snarly about the music." "That scans. I'm worried that there can be additional respiratory and cardiovascular side effects with the two depressants. At least there hasn't been any…" Our noses wrinkled at the fecal smell. "Diarrhea." I sighed. At least it was a leather couch. "I'm going to stabilize her and call an ambulance. If you want to stay, fine. If you want to flee, I won't stop you. But if I find out you gave her those pills, then you are in a world of hurt. Capice?" He scoffed. "I don't need to slip a bint a Mickey Finn to shag her." He was conventionally good looking- like a young Robert Redford mixed with a young Sean Bean, though the results were a bit bland. Cute, but not really my type. I got on my cell to call 911 and kept vigil by the girl. He drove away before the ambulance arrived… in my car. He left his boosted ride in my driveway. That was not the only thing he stole. My menorah was gone and he took all the cookies from my plate and the box as well. The girl was underage- in fact a high schooler. She had been ordered by 'Brad' to pretend to be a college girl. Too bad for 'Brad' he worked out of Nashua, because now he is facing a Mann act bounce and serious Club Fed time. My car was recovered, with a full tank of gas, at Logan Airport two days later. I was detailing the encounter to a nice FBI agent and a Statie when the Fed gets a call. It turned out that Phaser had spent the three days before he came to my home conducting a brilliant data heist from MIT and three high tech companies. Solon compensated him very handsomely. The Silver Fencer theorized that he picked to girl up to keep me occupied so he could escape. I'm unsure if it gives him too much or too little credit. Either way I disagree. All my peers and I agreed that his swiping my menorah that I bought for twenty dollars at the Judaica store three blocks away was a crime of opportunity so he could brag to his crooked peers about the trophy. Flash forward six months later: ISHO regional summons me. Paragon is there. I'm surprised. He is kept busy enough in New York as is. "You have a package," he says. All packages get sent to regional to be scanned for safety. They opened it. Inside was a menorah. A beautiful menorah. A beautiful glass menorah. A beautiful Murano glass menorah from Venice. When the investigators tracked it to the source, the glassmakers cheerfully told them it was a custom order from a nice Englishman who paid fifteen thousand Euros. So now I have the ISHO internal affairs and the ethics board sweating me like I'm in a Turkish bath. I'm on probation and I am going to Mykonos. He's been spotted there with some fancy ladies he met in Rome and they've been living it up courtesy of his ill-gotten gains. I'm going to track him down. I am going to tell him that the girl is recovering well and getting the help she needs. I am going to tell him a very bad man is behind bars because of what he did. I am going to forgive him for my car and original menorah. Then I'm going to hit him so hard that his kids will be born dizzy!	I was watching Cops when I hear a knock at the door, “awesome my pizza!” I thought while walking over to the door, when I open the door, I almost shot fire at him, until I saw what he was holding. “Hello heatwave.” This takes me aback, “how do you?” He chuckles, “you are really bad at hiding your identity, but that’s not why I am here...” I look at the girl, she was blonde and had freckles over her nose, “who is she?” I ask sternly, “her name is Sarah, I was casing a house to rob when I saw some men harass this woman, and when the ‘bouncer’ attempted to clear them out, they started shooting, and she got hit in the head and trampled by a mass of people, I know, we are enemies, I hate you, and you hate me, but I don’t know where else to go.” I sigh and let him in. I was weary to let him in, but as soon as I let him in he threw his mask off and laid her on my table, “quiet! I have a family!” He winces, “sorry.” He says still focused on Sarah. “Why do you care so much about this one, there must have been other people.” He looks at me, and I recognize his face, “John?” I had went to high school with him, we was an outcast, he had very little friends, then it dawned on me, the only friend he ever had was a blonde lady named Sarah, but she went off to collage after high school, “you figured it out. Good job. Now help me save her. Please!” “I have no medical knowledge, especially on trauma, I don’t know what you want me to do.” He sighs and slumps into one of my chairs defeated, “I just don’t want her do die.” I realize that even if he is a villain, he is still human, and he has people he cares about, “I will take her to the hospital, see what they can do, if you need, you can stay here. Just, if you touch my family, or do any bad while staying here l will boil you alive.” He nods, “thank you. So much” It took a week and a half, but she made a full recovery, and we learned a lot about each other, but when she was discharged, it was back to the old grind with him. But, that is how we both liked it.
	[WP] The hero is enjoying a day off thanks to a rare quiet night in the city. That is until the villain shows up to her door, but carrying an unconscious woman and looking distraught. “I saved her from a party....I know this is weird, but I didn’t know who else to go to.”	It was odd. The last person I expected at my doorstep, especially on my coveted "hero's day of rest" I put aside for myself yearly, was Rax. He was cruel, he was brutal, he was deceitful... and yet, here he was with a young woman lying helplessly in his arms. "I understand this is odd," he begins after a few moments silence, "but you must help me. I rescued her from a party, and you were the only person I could think of who could assist." I take the girl whose current complexion can only be described as ghostly, and lay her on the couch. "Who is she? Why does she have any significance?" After some hesitation, Rax spoke. "She's a... ^(love interest.)" I figured I had heard him correctly, but he mumbled under his own breath in such a way that he thought he was discreet enough. "I'm sorry, can you repeat that?" "^(A love interest.)" "One more time?" "A love interest, okay, Arch? Please, help." There was a toxic sound and thick viscosity to his words that can only be described as vitriolic, so I figured continuing to press him would end badly. "Alright, alright, okay. What is the issue?" "Some form of toxin in her system. I'm unaware of which. I saw someone slip a pill. He's been... dealt with." He'd killed another man, but this time it was not in pure evil. It was in prevention. A hopeful latch onto something that he had known was a lost cause. "I... was too late, however. She'd already taken a drink, and had passed out shortly after a fit of nausea and vomiting. I expect it to be something no less of cyanide, unfortunately," Rax said, with an innate sense of dread pouring from his words. "I have already attempted to do any basic first-aid, and have attempted casting some of the healing spells I've used in our altercations, Arch, but to no avail did they succeed. I even attempted the one I used to take toxins out of my own system." After some looking, testing for basic vitals and doing some of my own tests, my heart sank. A woman I had not known even existed until now had somehow entered my frontal my lobe in the form of a splinter. "Rax, have you, uh... tried that revival spell that you used to heal Siel in that battle?" I have seen many things in my time as a hero for the planet. There are things that no man should want to ever see, and things that no man will ever see. When I tell you, then, that there is no worse sight than to see a man of capable of the cruelty such as locking someone inside an explosive the equivalent to 5 Hiroshima explosions have an expression of pure horror, pure sorrow, and pure regret, take my word for it that it can and will break the soul of any being with coherent thoughts in the matter of a second. "No... no, don't say that. Please, do not say that. I... no, no I refuse there's - there's another way, I-" The man's hands began to glow green. He was conjuring a healing spell of some form. "No, I'll fix this! Everything will-" A flash of green light came from the woman as he attempted to heal her. "Everything is going to be okay, I promise! I'm going to fix it-" Another flash of light, to no avail. "I'll fix it, please! I promise..." The man dropped to his knees and ended his attempts to heal the woman. He began to sob, and he fell to the floor in the fetal position. In an attempt to problem solve, hopefully, I spoke up, "...What about the revival spell I mentioned earlier...?" It took a minute for him to answer. His voice now conveyed a sense of how broken he was, now. A voice usually booming with confidence in every aspect had now become quiet, raspy, and soft. "...It wouldn't work... the revival spell only works on those who had an artificial power source, such as magic... biological specimens such as humans would return as the undead..." I began to problem solve more. If his healing spell can remove toxins, then the only thing preventing life is basic homeostasis. Something is preventing her body from returning life. "...Rax, what if we did something crazy for a change, just this once?" The man did not lift his head up, and did not change the position of his body, but his eyes darted in my direction as a sign of interest. "...I'm listening." "I have electricity, hence my name, Arch. Correct?" "...Yes, I suppose so." "So, what if you used your healing spell, and I focused my electricity to her chest region?" "...Are you attempting what I believe you are?" I give a smirk across my face. The man's eyes light up, and he springs to his feet almost as fast as he fell. "Please, let this work." With a flash of green, blue, and white, Rax focused his healing on her and I shocked the daylights out of her being. We repeated this process some 10, 20, possibly 30 times. Just as all hope was lost, a sound was heard. Breathing. Was it breathing? Yes, it definitely had to have been - no other sound in the area sounds like it, even with the wind blowing. As I look to my right, where Rax was standing, his eyes light up further as hope begins to build up. \------------ Two weeks went by. I kept the girl in my house, on the couch, to monitor her. She had begun breathing, but was still very frail and hadn't regained consciousness. Rax had not performed any actions as per usual, which is both depressing and a great change of pace for him. He stops at the house again, as he had been every day for the past two weeks. "Hello, Arch. Lovely day it is, today. A warm 78 and not a cloud in the sky." He had been in this melancholy sense of glee since our attempt at reviving. I let him in, and we ate for a bit together. Then, it happened. The woman began to wake up. She slowly sat up. "W...what happened? ...Jeb? Where am I?" Rax immediately ran to the couch, in tears. No words were exchanged between the two for five minutes. Despite it being my own home, I left the two of them alone for a bit. \------------ It's been a month since all of that incident went down. Since then, Jeb - I mean Rax - hadn't been doing any evil. I've become a very good friend of his, actually. I believe this may have changed him for the good. I don't know what happened in full detail, that fine day. What I do know, however, is that you don't know what it is you have until you lose it. I stick by this motto, and hopefully Rax does too.	I was watching Cops when I hear a knock at the door, “awesome my pizza!” I thought while walking over to the door, when I open the door, I almost shot fire at him, until I saw what he was holding. “Hello heatwave.” This takes me aback, “how do you?” He chuckles, “you are really bad at hiding your identity, but that’s not why I am here...” I look at the girl, she was blonde and had freckles over her nose, “who is she?” I ask sternly, “her name is Sarah, I was casing a house to rob when I saw some men harass this woman, and when the ‘bouncer’ attempted to clear them out, they started shooting, and she got hit in the head and trampled by a mass of people, I know, we are enemies, I hate you, and you hate me, but I don’t know where else to go.” I sigh and let him in. I was weary to let him in, but as soon as I let him in he threw his mask off and laid her on my table, “quiet! I have a family!” He winces, “sorry.” He says still focused on Sarah. “Why do you care so much about this one, there must have been other people.” He looks at me, and I recognize his face, “John?” I had went to high school with him, we was an outcast, he had very little friends, then it dawned on me, the only friend he ever had was a blonde lady named Sarah, but she went off to collage after high school, “you figured it out. Good job. Now help me save her. Please!” “I have no medical knowledge, especially on trauma, I don’t know what you want me to do.” He sighs and slumps into one of my chairs defeated, “I just don’t want her do die.” I realize that even if he is a villain, he is still human, and he has people he cares about, “I will take her to the hospital, see what they can do, if you need, you can stay here. Just, if you touch my family, or do any bad while staying here l will boil you alive.” He nods, “thank you. So much” It took a week and a half, but she made a full recovery, and we learned a lot about each other, but when she was discharged, it was back to the old grind with him. But, that is how we both liked it.
	[WP] The hero is enjoying a day off thanks to a rare quiet night in the city. That is until the villain shows up to her door, but carrying an unconscious woman and looking distraught. “I saved her from a party....I know this is weird, but I didn’t know who else to go to.”	The young lad, for once, had a very pleasant night. Nothing out of the ordinary but he still won't let his guard down and carry his sword, even at his own home. He decided for a nightly stroll but was greeted by his masked enemy, the Duke of Tricks, at his doorstep. He took a step back and on guard readying for an attack. "My, my, is this how you treat your guest, young hero?" "Duke of Tricks! Why are you here!?" "Just a little visit for my sweet little toy. But I'm not here for our play time. No, I'm here to send you a little gift from me to you." In his hand was a handkerchief. With a flick of it comes a floating unconscious woman. "Worry her not, she is unharmed." as he gently lay her down on the hard wood floor. "And you expect me to believe that coming from you?" "Throughout our battles it has only between us. Hostages are too uncivilized for me." "And what's your deal with her now? Some sort of another trick? A game?" "You ask to many questions. Stop worry about me and start worry about her. Her state was like this when I found her, right by a party, the ruckus those hooligans make. Knowinglly, I know we had our differences but tend this girl for me. She is rather interesting. "As if I'd say no to anyone, but this one's different because it's you. Why?" "Believe me child, I would love to elaborate but that would ruin the surprise won't it? I'll give you a hint though. It involves you, her, and A GRAND SHOW THIS KINGDOM WILL NEVER FORGET. Best part is that I get to have the best seat." "Wait, what do you mean best-" "Ta~Ta~" And just like that, he vanished under the veil of smoke with his usual trademark doll of him, smirking at his escape. This is my first time, I hope you liked it.	the villain i fight with everyday, showed up at my door and is carrying an unconscious woman, he looked so vulnerable. i looked at the women and for once just wanted to close the door on them. "why?" i asked him, feeling the weight of a person life on me once again. feeling the burden and the knowledge that they would just goon living, and eventually never remember me. i looked up to my nemesis, he looked back, confused. &#x200B; " what" his voice squeaked out. " i said why, you felt like getting help for her, and yet you come to me." i sighed out, wishing they would just leave. " what do you mean by that?! i fight you every d\\\* you help everyone, whats wrong with you?!" he yelled at me losing breath in his speech. that's when i slammed the door on his face and walked away. that was the moment when i fell, fell off the pedestal of a hero
	[WP] The hero is enjoying a day off thanks to a rare quiet night in the city. That is until the villain shows up to her door, but carrying an unconscious woman and looking distraught. “I saved her from a party....I know this is weird, but I didn’t know who else to go to.”	"Maria!" She shouts and looks at him with fire in her eyes. "Now, before you jump to conclusions I... ugh!" The villain floats inches from the ground, choked by some invisible force. With her right hand our hero telepathically draws the unconscious young lady into her home and with her right she drags the villain struggling through the air. He falls to the ground and swallows gulps of air clutching at his throat. "God! Damn! You! Woman!" He screams, breathes, screams, brrathes until his repiration comes to order. "Talk!" She lifts him up again, his arms sprawled to the sides. "Mesmer! What the fuck are you doing?! This is Maria! Do you really think I would hurt her?! Think woman!" He appeals to her desperately. Hurt, but not by the psychic pressure but by her pressumption of his misdeed. She lowers him gently. Magnus is a heinous villain with blood all the way up to his elbows, but Maria was the one person she knows he wouldn't hurt. Couldn't hurt. "Explain this." She says to him in a gentler yet wary tone. "I was, following her, as usual. Keeping an eye on her." Magnus looks sheepish. Almost like the young boy she knew. "She went to that club, Aces. Terrible place. She has a few drinks, has a bit of fun. Regular stuff. Then suddenly her knees buckle and she topples over. A big guy tried to carry her away." He almost smiled, she saw it. A hungry feral look came and then went on his face like a flash. Magnus of the many faces. She didn't have to ask about the big guy, she knew. "And you took her here? Why?" "God damn it Mesmer she's your sister! Our sister! Besides where would I take her? To father? He would have turned me to ashes." She bites her tongue. He doesn't know about father yet. Best he doesn't know for now. "Why didn't she use her powers?" Maria had some incredible gifts, not least of all future sight. How could this have happened? "Thats the thing Mesmer. Whoever came after her knew of her powers and nullified them. This is something I thought you might be interested in." There it is again, a flicker of another face. A concerned one? Calculating? You can never tell with Magnus. Maria stirs. They both look her way. "Bomb! A bomb! Get down!" Boooooom!	the villain i fight with everyday, showed up at my door and is carrying an unconscious woman, he looked so vulnerable. i looked at the women and for once just wanted to close the door on them. "why?" i asked him, feeling the weight of a person life on me once again. feeling the burden and the knowledge that they would just goon living, and eventually never remember me. i looked up to my nemesis, he looked back, confused. &#x200B; " what" his voice squeaked out. " i said why, you felt like getting help for her, and yet you come to me." i sighed out, wishing they would just leave. " what do you mean by that?! i fight you every d\\\* you help everyone, whats wrong with you?!" he yelled at me losing breath in his speech. that's when i slammed the door on his face and walked away. that was the moment when i fell, fell off the pedestal of a hero
	[WP] The hero is enjoying a day off thanks to a rare quiet night in the city. That is until the villain shows up to her door, but carrying an unconscious woman and looking distraught. “I saved her from a party....I know this is weird, but I didn’t know who else to go to.”	Angie froze, doorknob in her left hand, glass of wine in her right. “Clayton,” she hissed. Tossing the wine aside, she dove to her right for the shield she kept there, rolled, and came up crouched low behind it, bracing for his attack. “Angela, please.” His pained voice cracked. Why isn’t he attacking? Gingerly, she peered over the top of her shield. His broad silhouette filled the door frame. His face tear-streaked, he struggled with something heavy in his arms. Not something. Someone. “Ruby?!?” Her shield clattered to the floor, and she closed the distance between them in a single leap. “WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER?” she screamed, effortlessly taking Ruby’s limp body from him. “Nothing,” he croaked. “I saved her from a party… I know this is weird, but I didn’t know who else to go to.” On her floor, Angie cradled the young woman in her arms. Fighting tears, her fingers searched frantically for a pulse as her eyes found the labored rising and falling of Ruby's chest. There. Slow, but there. She eyed the blue tinge around Ruby’s lips. “NARCAN!” she barked at Clayton. “In the bathroom, above the sink!” Clayton jumped, but thankful for direction, he hurried down the hall. Angie gently laid her baby girl on the floor. She hadn’t seen Ruby in over a year, ever since that awful fight the evening of Ruby’s 18th birthday. I told her no drugs under my roof. Where had she been? Had she been using all this time? Clayton returned with the Narcan. Angie tilted Ruby’s head back. Holding Ruby’s mouth shut with her left thumb, she pinched Ruby’s right nostril closed with her index finger, and using her right hand, she inserted the tip of the Narcan in Ruby’s left nostril. She pressed the plunger. Now we wait. Angie carefully rolled Ruby onto her right side, tucking her hand under her head in the recovery position. Clayton knelt down beside her. Wiping tears away with the back of her hand, Angie looked over her daughter’s body, into the eyes of her arch-nemesis. “How did you know?” He looked down, almost ashamedly, “People talk. I hear more than most, given my position.” Angie nodded, “Well, thank you for bringing her home, but I think you should leave now.” He lifted pleading blue eyes to meet hers, “Angie, please,” he said. “She’s my daughter, too.”	the villain i fight with everyday, showed up at my door and is carrying an unconscious woman, he looked so vulnerable. i looked at the women and for once just wanted to close the door on them. "why?" i asked him, feeling the weight of a person life on me once again. feeling the burden and the knowledge that they would just goon living, and eventually never remember me. i looked up to my nemesis, he looked back, confused. &#x200B; " what" his voice squeaked out. " i said why, you felt like getting help for her, and yet you come to me." i sighed out, wishing they would just leave. " what do you mean by that?! i fight you every d\\\* you help everyone, whats wrong with you?!" he yelled at me losing breath in his speech. that's when i slammed the door on his face and walked away. that was the moment when i fell, fell off the pedestal of a hero
	[WP] The hero is enjoying a day off thanks to a rare quiet night in the city. That is until the villain shows up to her door, but carrying an unconscious woman and looking distraught. “I saved her from a party....I know this is weird, but I didn’t know who else to go to.”	Pounding on my door; then, a low voice: “Angel!” Someone in search of a hero, then. I didn’t recognize the man through the peephole, nor the teenaged girl slumped against him. He knocked again. “I can see your shadow through the peephole,” he said. “She needs your help.” I opened the door as far as the chain allowed. It was supposed to be my night off. I’d just helped the police round up the leadership of the Vipers, a nasty gang with connections to international arms smugglers. And Dr. Peterman had promised not to give out my home address anymore. “Who are you?” He looked confused. “Huh? Angel, you know me.” He shifted the girl to point at his face. There was something vaguely familiar about the shape of his jaw. He sighed and covered his eyes with his hand. “Firewalker!” I fell back on instinct, lighting my hands in cold white flame. I could feel the flames at my back, too, like wings. That face—albeit obscured by a mask—was on every wall of every precinct in the city. Dr. Peterman had sent me against him twice already, though he’d always managed to evade me. And now he stood outside my door. A few heartbeats passed, as I waited for Firewalker to burst through the security chain and attack. Then I heard the unmistakeable chunky gurgle and splat of someone vomiting. “Helen, I didn’t have anywhere else to bring her.” The flames from my hands dissipated almost without conscious thought. He knew my name. Firewalker knew my name and where I lived, but he hadn’t come to fight me. I reapproached the door. “What’s wrong with her?” The girl was pale, her eyes unfocused. “I found her at a party. I think... something bad was going to happen to her.” Firewalker looked into my eyes, then. “She just needs a safe place to sleep it off.” Against my better judgment, I let them in. Firewalker half-dragged the girl to my peeling pleather couch. “How do you know my real name?” I asked, reaching for the Advil in my kitchen cabinet. “I knew you... before. I mean, I remember you. I used to be a security guard at BRI. You signed in to visit Dr. Peterman every Tuesday at 3.” I filled a glass at the sink. “Were you there, when—” Even four months later, I struggled to put into words what had happened to me in the lab that day. Dr. Peterman was mentoring me through my thesis, and that day he’d wanted to show me his new project. Then— pain, and unbearable light, and screaming, and the white flames. “Yeah.” Firewalker interrupted. “Yeah, I was there. How do you think this happened?” He shook his hand with a snap and his fingers ignited in yellow flame. I stared. “You’re like me?” He stared back. “I thought you saw me at First Union Bank. And at the Mayor’s victory party.” “Well I knew you were an arsonist but I didn’t know you were like me.” Firewalker frowned. “I’m not an arsonist.” Then he hissed a little and shook the flames out again. I set the water and pills down next to the girl. “Your flames hurt you?” I took his hand to examine it. The pads of his fingers were puffy and shiny. “Uh... yeah.” His voice sounded strangled, and I felt uncomfortably close. I dropped his hand. “Yours... don’t?” “No. Never.” The girl moaned a little, then, and Firewalker turned to check on her. “You think I’m an arsonist?” He asked. “You set First Union on fire.” I reminded him. “I thought BRI was keeping evidence in a safe deposit box. No one got hurt.” “You hurt all those people at the Mayor’s.” I heard my own voice rising. “And you killed all the people on that barge last month.” “I didn’t have anything to do with the barge fire.” Firewalker snapped back. “And the Mayor’s? I burned my way into the back room, sure. But then you set the whole ballroom on fire. I appreciated the distraction while I escaped, but that was pretty reckless.” “I wasn’t trying to help you escape! I was trying to corner you!” Firewalker took a big step back. “You... you wanted to capture me? Why?” “You’re at the top of every most wanted list! Dr. Peterman said—” Firewalker exploded. “You’re actually working with that guy? After what he did to you? I thought you were infiltrating BRI to bring them down, but you’re actually just their... their goon?” I felt queasy. “I’m... I fight crime.” “Helen... BRI is a front company for a major criminal enterprise. They’ve been experimenting on people for years. They’ve bought off the Mayor and half the police. They’re exterminating the Vipers, though I haven’t figured out why yet. I mean, good riddance, but there’s got to be some profit in it for them.” I sat down, hard. Firewalker suddenly looked horrified. “Did you kill the others on purpose? Jenny and Ty and Chance?” “I fight villains.” I said weakly. “You. You’re a villain.” “Who told you I was a villain?” Firewalker almost looked sorry for me. “Who told you that you were a hero, Helen?” *Edited to (attempt to) fix formatting.	the villain i fight with everyday, showed up at my door and is carrying an unconscious woman, he looked so vulnerable. i looked at the women and for once just wanted to close the door on them. "why?" i asked him, feeling the weight of a person life on me once again. feeling the burden and the knowledge that they would just goon living, and eventually never remember me. i looked up to my nemesis, he looked back, confused. &#x200B; " what" his voice squeaked out. " i said why, you felt like getting help for her, and yet you come to me." i sighed out, wishing they would just leave. " what do you mean by that?! i fight you every d\\\* you help everyone, whats wrong with you?!" he yelled at me losing breath in his speech. that's when i slammed the door on his face and walked away. that was the moment when i fell, fell off the pedestal of a hero
	[WP] The hero is enjoying a day off thanks to a rare quiet night in the city. That is until the villain shows up to her door, but carrying an unconscious woman and looking distraught. “I saved her from a party....I know this is weird, but I didn’t know who else to go to.”	Angie froze, doorknob in her left hand, glass of wine in her right. “Clayton,” she hissed. Tossing the wine aside, she dove to her right for the shield she kept there, rolled, and came up crouched low behind it, bracing for his attack. “Angela, please.” His pained voice cracked. Why isn’t he attacking? Gingerly, she peered over the top of her shield. His broad silhouette filled the door frame. His face tear-streaked, he struggled with something heavy in his arms. Not something. Someone. “Ruby?!?” Her shield clattered to the floor, and she closed the distance between them in a single leap. “WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER?” she screamed, effortlessly taking Ruby’s limp body from him. “Nothing,” he croaked. “I saved her from a party… I know this is weird, but I didn’t know who else to go to.” On her floor, Angie cradled the young woman in her arms. Fighting tears, her fingers searched frantically for a pulse as her eyes found the labored rising and falling of Ruby's chest. There. Slow, but there. She eyed the blue tinge around Ruby’s lips. “NARCAN!” she barked at Clayton. “In the bathroom, above the sink!” Clayton jumped, but thankful for direction, he hurried down the hall. Angie gently laid her baby girl on the floor. She hadn’t seen Ruby in over a year, ever since that awful fight the evening of Ruby’s 18th birthday. I told her no drugs under my roof. Where had she been? Had she been using all this time? Clayton returned with the Narcan. Angie tilted Ruby’s head back. Holding Ruby’s mouth shut with her left thumb, she pinched Ruby’s right nostril closed with her index finger, and using her right hand, she inserted the tip of the Narcan in Ruby’s left nostril. She pressed the plunger. Now we wait. Angie carefully rolled Ruby onto her right side, tucking her hand under her head in the recovery position. Clayton knelt down beside her. Wiping tears away with the back of her hand, Angie looked over her daughter’s body, into the eyes of her arch-nemesis. “How did you know?” He looked down, almost ashamedly, “People talk. I hear more than most, given my position.” Angie nodded, “Well, thank you for bringing her home, but I think you should leave now.” He lifted pleading blue eyes to meet hers, “Angie, please,” he said. “She’s my daughter, too.”	The young lad, for once, had a very pleasant night. Nothing out of the ordinary but he still won't let his guard down and carry his sword, even at his own home. He decided for a nightly stroll but was greeted by his masked enemy, the Duke of Tricks, at his doorstep. He took a step back and on guard readying for an attack. "My, my, is this how you treat your guest, young hero?" "Duke of Tricks! Why are you here!?" "Just a little visit for my sweet little toy. But I'm not here for our play time. No, I'm here to send you a little gift from me to you." In his hand was a handkerchief. With a flick of it comes a floating unconscious woman. "Worry her not, she is unharmed." as he gently lay her down on the hard wood floor. "And you expect me to believe that coming from you?" "Throughout our battles it has only between us. Hostages are too uncivilized for me." "And what's your deal with her now? Some sort of another trick? A game?" "You ask to many questions. Stop worry about me and start worry about her. Her state was like this when I found her, right by a party, the ruckus those hooligans make. Knowinglly, I know we had our differences but tend this girl for me. She is rather interesting. "As if I'd say no to anyone, but this one's different because it's you. Why?" "Believe me child, I would love to elaborate but that would ruin the surprise won't it? I'll give you a hint though. It involves you, her, and A GRAND SHOW THIS KINGDOM WILL NEVER FORGET. Best part is that I get to have the best seat." "Wait, what do you mean best-" "Ta~Ta~" And just like that, he vanished under the veil of smoke with his usual trademark doll of him, smirking at his escape. This is my first time, I hope you liked it.
	[WP] The hero is enjoying a day off thanks to a rare quiet night in the city. That is until the villain shows up to her door, but carrying an unconscious woman and looking distraught. “I saved her from a party....I know this is weird, but I didn’t know who else to go to.”	Pounding on my door; then, a low voice: “Angel!” Someone in search of a hero, then. I didn’t recognize the man through the peephole, nor the teenaged girl slumped against him. He knocked again. “I can see your shadow through the peephole,” he said. “She needs your help.” I opened the door as far as the chain allowed. It was supposed to be my night off. I’d just helped the police round up the leadership of the Vipers, a nasty gang with connections to international arms smugglers. And Dr. Peterman had promised not to give out my home address anymore. “Who are you?” He looked confused. “Huh? Angel, you know me.” He shifted the girl to point at his face. There was something vaguely familiar about the shape of his jaw. He sighed and covered his eyes with his hand. “Firewalker!” I fell back on instinct, lighting my hands in cold white flame. I could feel the flames at my back, too, like wings. That face—albeit obscured by a mask—was on every wall of every precinct in the city. Dr. Peterman had sent me against him twice already, though he’d always managed to evade me. And now he stood outside my door. A few heartbeats passed, as I waited for Firewalker to burst through the security chain and attack. Then I heard the unmistakeable chunky gurgle and splat of someone vomiting. “Helen, I didn’t have anywhere else to bring her.” The flames from my hands dissipated almost without conscious thought. He knew my name. Firewalker knew my name and where I lived, but he hadn’t come to fight me. I reapproached the door. “What’s wrong with her?” The girl was pale, her eyes unfocused. “I found her at a party. I think... something bad was going to happen to her.” Firewalker looked into my eyes, then. “She just needs a safe place to sleep it off.” Against my better judgment, I let them in. Firewalker half-dragged the girl to my peeling pleather couch. “How do you know my real name?” I asked, reaching for the Advil in my kitchen cabinet. “I knew you... before. I mean, I remember you. I used to be a security guard at BRI. You signed in to visit Dr. Peterman every Tuesday at 3.” I filled a glass at the sink. “Were you there, when—” Even four months later, I struggled to put into words what had happened to me in the lab that day. Dr. Peterman was mentoring me through my thesis, and that day he’d wanted to show me his new project. Then— pain, and unbearable light, and screaming, and the white flames. “Yeah.” Firewalker interrupted. “Yeah, I was there. How do you think this happened?” He shook his hand with a snap and his fingers ignited in yellow flame. I stared. “You’re like me?” He stared back. “I thought you saw me at First Union Bank. And at the Mayor’s victory party.” “Well I knew you were an arsonist but I didn’t know you were like me.” Firewalker frowned. “I’m not an arsonist.” Then he hissed a little and shook the flames out again. I set the water and pills down next to the girl. “Your flames hurt you?” I took his hand to examine it. The pads of his fingers were puffy and shiny. “Uh... yeah.” His voice sounded strangled, and I felt uncomfortably close. I dropped his hand. “Yours... don’t?” “No. Never.” The girl moaned a little, then, and Firewalker turned to check on her. “You think I’m an arsonist?” He asked. “You set First Union on fire.” I reminded him. “I thought BRI was keeping evidence in a safe deposit box. No one got hurt.” “You hurt all those people at the Mayor’s.” I heard my own voice rising. “And you killed all the people on that barge last month.” “I didn’t have anything to do with the barge fire.” Firewalker snapped back. “And the Mayor’s? I burned my way into the back room, sure. But then you set the whole ballroom on fire. I appreciated the distraction while I escaped, but that was pretty reckless.” “I wasn’t trying to help you escape! I was trying to corner you!” Firewalker took a big step back. “You... you wanted to capture me? Why?” “You’re at the top of every most wanted list! Dr. Peterman said—” Firewalker exploded. “You’re actually working with that guy? After what he did to you? I thought you were infiltrating BRI to bring them down, but you’re actually just their... their goon?” I felt queasy. “I’m... I fight crime.” “Helen... BRI is a front company for a major criminal enterprise. They’ve been experimenting on people for years. They’ve bought off the Mayor and half the police. They’re exterminating the Vipers, though I haven’t figured out why yet. I mean, good riddance, but there’s got to be some profit in it for them.” I sat down, hard. Firewalker suddenly looked horrified. “Did you kill the others on purpose? Jenny and Ty and Chance?” “I fight villains.” I said weakly. “You. You’re a villain.” “Who told you I was a villain?” Firewalker almost looked sorry for me. “Who told you that you were a hero, Helen?” *Edited to (attempt to) fix formatting.	Recluse is lounging on her couch watching Hugh Jackman dance and sing across rooftops when someone pounds on her door. She should have known taking a night off wouldn’t end well. The cottage is a gift from the Mayor; a thank you for her discrete participation in tracking down magi-tech that made its way into the underground. It’s on the outskirts of the city nestled in the National Park, it’s cozy, everything is state of the art, it could resist a bomb blast, and most importantly it’s cloaked. &#x200B; The pounding continues, followed by shouting, “I know you’re in there!” &#x200B; So whoever is at her door is someone the Mayor trusts, meaning she can’t just pretend not to be home. With a sigh, Recluse pauses her movie, vaults over her couch, and opens the door. &#x200B; “Y-” &#x200B; The word dies on her lips as she sees the dark cloak with gold highlights and pure white glowing eyes. &#x200B; “Eris!” &#x200B; The warlock’s tale-tell gold sparks are fading in the night behind them. She must have magic-ed her way past security. Recluse tenses ready for a brawl. &#x200B; “I’m not here to fight,” Eris throws a hand up, “I need your help.” &#x200B; For the first time Recluse notices the second figure Eris’s is supporting and the frantic look on the warlock’s face. &#x200B; “We were at a party; there was trouble. I got her out of there but, she’s not right, I think she’s-” &#x200B; Recluse inspects over the woman strung over Eris’s should looking for injuries. The woman’s pulse is rapid, and she’s pale and clammy despite being unconscious. Gently, Recluse checks the woman’s eyes. One is bright green, the pupil a strange oval shape, the other blue with green and yellow creeping across it. On a whim, she pulls up the woman’s lips to reveal teeth that don’t look quite right. &#x200B; “I know this is weird, but I didn’t know who else to go to,” Eris continues. &#x200B; The woman is going through ‘The Change.’ She's mutating. &#x200B; “Shit,” Recluse mutters.
	[WP] The hero is enjoying a day off thanks to a rare quiet night in the city. That is until the villain shows up to her door, but carrying an unconscious woman and looking distraught. “I saved her from a party....I know this is weird, but I didn’t know who else to go to.”	File this one under 'No good deed goes unpunished.' So, I was at home, enjoying what I expected to be a quiet night. Miserable March weather just with wintery wet is a friend to the super-heroine. When it rains cats and dogs, criminals stay indoors. Hot summer nights are my busiest time. The town is wall-to-wall assholes looking for trouble and victims and finding both. I had just gotten out of the bubble bath and was about halfway through that history of New Hollywood Johnny Noir recommended and was waiting for the kettle to boil for my chamomile tea. Of course my bell rang. I sighed and put my e-reader aside and looked wistfully at the plate of shortbread cookies by my cup. "One minute please," I said as I stepped into my panties and sweats simultaneously. "Leah, it's an emergency," the person outside shouted. I paused, both because of his urgency and because the voice was familiar but I couldn't place it. So, skip the brassiere and put on a T-Shirt with and open hoodie from my last medical school reunion. I looked through the door cam. Male, Caucasian with light hair plastered to his forehead. Height- five eleven, with skinny build- call it a buck fifty. Age- I'd say upper twenties. He wore a heavy dark single breasted overcoat. But it was the thin girl cradled in his arms that concerned me. Caucasian her dark hair was straight and lank as it hung loosely from her lolling head. I'd be surprised if she were old enough to drink legally. If this guy was tall and lean, the girl was short and painfully thin. The hospital said she wasn't even a C-note on the scale, even though she was 5'3''. But I am getting ahead of myself. I flung open the door and the man shoved his way into my foyer. He looked panicked- distraught and said as he stumbled to the nearest couch, “I saved her from a party....I know this is weird, but I didn’t know who else to go to.” And that's when I realized- seeing that dirty blonde hair and cockney accent… "PHASER!" I brought my fields up and focused my energy into my hands. "Listen, Aurora," he said, "can we not do the brawling nonsense… the girl…" I stopped my hand energy, but kept my shields up. "And how did you know…" "Where you live? Most of us know. Some bugger had the bright idea to keep a watch on your house. Plant a camera or something. But once you're out the door, 'VOOM!'" "Sounds like Solon." I considered the situation as he placed the girl on the couch. Underneath her shabby car coat she wore a black sparkly cocktail dress that was cut very high in front and with a skirt so short that it left little to the imagination. Her matching stilettos were scuffed- and I suspect them were responsible for the scrape on her right cheek. "I know you hate me…" "Phaser, I don't hate you. You vex me, but hate? No. You're a crook- a master thief, but you've never hurt anyone in any of your operations and never offered violence against anything besides a safe door or alarm system. Almost anyone else and you'd be spitting teeth." I lowered my shields and went to the girl. I turned over my shoulder and said, "Don't think I'm not keeping an eye on you." He was a slippery customer- literally. His ability to change into gas or liquid and his sticky fingers kept him high on the International Super Hero Organization's hit parade, even if the worst injury anyone suffered in his long crime spree was a twisted ankle while in hot pursuit. I checked the girl and my dislike for Phaser dissipated like he did in the Diamond District job last May. Her pulse was erratic and breathing shallow. "Tell me what happened and why take her to my doorstep and not an emergency room?" "I was at a loft party in Alston." He paused as if he said too much. I supposed he shrugged but I was seeing how the kid's eyes reacted to the light from my fingertips. "I was celebrating my latest job, I suppose you'll be reading about it in The Herald. Anyhow, the party was one of these underground things- not legal, not licensed, but usually good fun. DJ, fetish costumes, full bar, women…" Not my idea of a good time as you may surmise but I was not judging. But the sub rosa nature of the gathering may explain why he was unwilling to go about a mile further to the hospitals nearby. "So I was hitting on her, and we were drinking… She was having some kinda punch there. I had a couple of beers from the keg. Her name is Liz. Uh… There were other blokes there. I dunno. Maybe someone doctored her drink?" I mean she was taking something too…" He held out her purse. I poured out the contents: breath mints and a prescription bottle with the label removed. I opened the cap and groaned when I saw the rainbow within. It was a Physician's Desk Reference pharmacopeia pop quiz. At this point, thankfully, her eyes fluttered and she groaned. "Liz? Is that your name, honey?" She moaned affirmatively. "Can you tell me what's wrong?" "I go to Northeastern." "That's useful," Phaser said from my dining room. "Brad said he had some Chilli Willies… I met this cute guy. Older dude. I had some of the punch. They said there was grain in it." "Chilli Willies?" Phaser asked. "It's a street term for a Benzodiazepine. Kid mixed it with strong booze. Yeah, she's gonna be a mess." I stood up. "Honey, you lie there a while. I'm going to get my bag we'll get you better, OK?" Phaser was in front of the cupboard in my dining room admiring my silver collection. Indicating my menorah he said, "I didn't know you were Jewish." It's one of the joys of being mixed race. And yes, Cohen is not an uncommon surname among African-Americans. I had bigger worries than my heritage. I led him to where I kept my emergency medical kit. "She had benzos and booze- at a minimum. Bad combo." "What can it do?" You've seen the slurred speech and loss of consciousness, dizziness, drowsiness, and balance problems. Was she irritable or hostile?" "She snapped at some gal and she was a bit snarly about the music." "That scans. I'm worried that there can be additional respiratory and cardiovascular side effects with the two depressants. At least there hasn't been any…" Our noses wrinkled at the fecal smell. "Diarrhea." I sighed. At least it was a leather couch. "I'm going to stabilize her and call an ambulance. If you want to stay, fine. If you want to flee, I won't stop you. But if I find out you gave her those pills, then you are in a world of hurt. Capice?" He scoffed. "I don't need to slip a bint a Mickey Finn to shag her." He was conventionally good looking- like a young Robert Redford mixed with a young Sean Bean, though the results were a bit bland. Cute, but not really my type. I got on my cell to call 911 and kept vigil by the girl. He drove away before the ambulance arrived… in my car. He left his boosted ride in my driveway. That was not the only thing he stole. My menorah was gone and he took all the cookies from my plate and the box as well. The girl was underage- in fact a high schooler. She had been ordered by 'Brad' to pretend to be a college girl. Too bad for 'Brad' he worked out of Nashua, because now he is facing a Mann act bounce and serious Club Fed time. My car was recovered, with a full tank of gas, at Logan Airport two days later. I was detailing the encounter to a nice FBI agent and a Statie when the Fed gets a call. It turned out that Phaser had spent the three days before he came to my home conducting a brilliant data heist from MIT and three high tech companies. Solon compensated him very handsomely. The Silver Fencer theorized that he picked to girl up to keep me occupied so he could escape. I'm unsure if it gives him too much or too little credit. Either way I disagree. All my peers and I agreed that his swiping my menorah that I bought for twenty dollars at the Judaica store three blocks away was a crime of opportunity so he could brag to his crooked peers about the trophy. Flash forward six months later: ISHO regional summons me. Paragon is there. I'm surprised. He is kept busy enough in New York as is. "You have a package," he says. All packages get sent to regional to be scanned for safety. They opened it. Inside was a menorah. A beautiful menorah. A beautiful glass menorah. A beautiful Murano glass menorah from Venice. When the investigators tracked it to the source, the glassmakers cheerfully told them it was a custom order from a nice Englishman who paid fifteen thousand Euros. So now I have the ISHO internal affairs and the ethics board sweating me like I'm in a Turkish bath. I'm on probation and I am going to Mykonos. He's been spotted there with some fancy ladies he met in Rome and they've been living it up courtesy of his ill-gotten gains. I'm going to track him down. I am going to tell him that the girl is recovering well and getting the help she needs. I am going to tell him a very bad man is behind bars because of what he did. I am going to forgive him for my car and original menorah. Then I'm going to hit him so hard that his kids will be born dizzy!	Recluse is lounging on her couch watching Hugh Jackman dance and sing across rooftops when someone pounds on her door. She should have known taking a night off wouldn’t end well. The cottage is a gift from the Mayor; a thank you for her discrete participation in tracking down magi-tech that made its way into the underground. It’s on the outskirts of the city nestled in the National Park, it’s cozy, everything is state of the art, it could resist a bomb blast, and most importantly it’s cloaked. &#x200B; The pounding continues, followed by shouting, “I know you’re in there!” &#x200B; So whoever is at her door is someone the Mayor trusts, meaning she can’t just pretend not to be home. With a sigh, Recluse pauses her movie, vaults over her couch, and opens the door. &#x200B; “Y-” &#x200B; The word dies on her lips as she sees the dark cloak with gold highlights and pure white glowing eyes. &#x200B; “Eris!” &#x200B; The warlock’s tale-tell gold sparks are fading in the night behind them. She must have magic-ed her way past security. Recluse tenses ready for a brawl. &#x200B; “I’m not here to fight,” Eris throws a hand up, “I need your help.” &#x200B; For the first time Recluse notices the second figure Eris’s is supporting and the frantic look on the warlock’s face. &#x200B; “We were at a party; there was trouble. I got her out of there but, she’s not right, I think she’s-” &#x200B; Recluse inspects over the woman strung over Eris’s should looking for injuries. The woman’s pulse is rapid, and she’s pale and clammy despite being unconscious. Gently, Recluse checks the woman’s eyes. One is bright green, the pupil a strange oval shape, the other blue with green and yellow creeping across it. On a whim, she pulls up the woman’s lips to reveal teeth that don’t look quite right. &#x200B; “I know this is weird, but I didn’t know who else to go to,” Eris continues. &#x200B; The woman is going through ‘The Change.’ She's mutating. &#x200B; “Shit,” Recluse mutters.
	[WP] The hero is enjoying a day off thanks to a rare quiet night in the city. That is until the villain shows up to her door, but carrying an unconscious woman and looking distraught. “I saved her from a party....I know this is weird, but I didn’t know who else to go to.”	Pounding on my door; then, a low voice: “Angel!” Someone in search of a hero, then. I didn’t recognize the man through the peephole, nor the teenaged girl slumped against him. He knocked again. “I can see your shadow through the peephole,” he said. “She needs your help.” I opened the door as far as the chain allowed. It was supposed to be my night off. I’d just helped the police round up the leadership of the Vipers, a nasty gang with connections to international arms smugglers. And Dr. Peterman had promised not to give out my home address anymore. “Who are you?” He looked confused. “Huh? Angel, you know me.” He shifted the girl to point at his face. There was something vaguely familiar about the shape of his jaw. He sighed and covered his eyes with his hand. “Firewalker!” I fell back on instinct, lighting my hands in cold white flame. I could feel the flames at my back, too, like wings. That face—albeit obscured by a mask—was on every wall of every precinct in the city. Dr. Peterman had sent me against him twice already, though he’d always managed to evade me. And now he stood outside my door. A few heartbeats passed, as I waited for Firewalker to burst through the security chain and attack. Then I heard the unmistakeable chunky gurgle and splat of someone vomiting. “Helen, I didn’t have anywhere else to bring her.” The flames from my hands dissipated almost without conscious thought. He knew my name. Firewalker knew my name and where I lived, but he hadn’t come to fight me. I reapproached the door. “What’s wrong with her?” The girl was pale, her eyes unfocused. “I found her at a party. I think... something bad was going to happen to her.” Firewalker looked into my eyes, then. “She just needs a safe place to sleep it off.” Against my better judgment, I let them in. Firewalker half-dragged the girl to my peeling pleather couch. “How do you know my real name?” I asked, reaching for the Advil in my kitchen cabinet. “I knew you... before. I mean, I remember you. I used to be a security guard at BRI. You signed in to visit Dr. Peterman every Tuesday at 3.” I filled a glass at the sink. “Were you there, when—” Even four months later, I struggled to put into words what had happened to me in the lab that day. Dr. Peterman was mentoring me through my thesis, and that day he’d wanted to show me his new project. Then— pain, and unbearable light, and screaming, and the white flames. “Yeah.” Firewalker interrupted. “Yeah, I was there. How do you think this happened?” He shook his hand with a snap and his fingers ignited in yellow flame. I stared. “You’re like me?” He stared back. “I thought you saw me at First Union Bank. And at the Mayor’s victory party.” “Well I knew you were an arsonist but I didn’t know you were like me.” Firewalker frowned. “I’m not an arsonist.” Then he hissed a little and shook the flames out again. I set the water and pills down next to the girl. “Your flames hurt you?” I took his hand to examine it. The pads of his fingers were puffy and shiny. “Uh... yeah.” His voice sounded strangled, and I felt uncomfortably close. I dropped his hand. “Yours... don’t?” “No. Never.” The girl moaned a little, then, and Firewalker turned to check on her. “You think I’m an arsonist?” He asked. “You set First Union on fire.” I reminded him. “I thought BRI was keeping evidence in a safe deposit box. No one got hurt.” “You hurt all those people at the Mayor’s.” I heard my own voice rising. “And you killed all the people on that barge last month.” “I didn’t have anything to do with the barge fire.” Firewalker snapped back. “And the Mayor’s? I burned my way into the back room, sure. But then you set the whole ballroom on fire. I appreciated the distraction while I escaped, but that was pretty reckless.” “I wasn’t trying to help you escape! I was trying to corner you!” Firewalker took a big step back. “You... you wanted to capture me? Why?” “You’re at the top of every most wanted list! Dr. Peterman said—” Firewalker exploded. “You’re actually working with that guy? After what he did to you? I thought you were infiltrating BRI to bring them down, but you’re actually just their... their goon?” I felt queasy. “I’m... I fight crime.” “Helen... BRI is a front company for a major criminal enterprise. They’ve been experimenting on people for years. They’ve bought off the Mayor and half the police. They’re exterminating the Vipers, though I haven’t figured out why yet. I mean, good riddance, but there’s got to be some profit in it for them.” I sat down, hard. Firewalker suddenly looked horrified. “Did you kill the others on purpose? Jenny and Ty and Chance?” “I fight villains.” I said weakly. “You. You’re a villain.” “Who told you I was a villain?” Firewalker almost looked sorry for me. “Who told you that you were a hero, Helen?” *Edited to (attempt to) fix formatting.	Samuel stared. For a second, he hadn't even recognized Bête Noir. His waist long hair, instead of it's usual ponytail, was hanging down, dripping some sort of black grease onto the pavement. Beyond that, it seemed Bête Noir had quite a few scars under his mask. Samuel hadn't realized the extent of the scarring. Normally, Bête Noir's mask covered all his facial deformities. The left side of his face was fairly normal, despite the fresh cuts on it. The right side was Phantom Of The Opera levels of disfigured. The left side of Bête Noir's mouth, for example, had no lips. Strings of skin connected the two halves of his mouth as if he was melting. His teeth were visible at all times, which wasn't helped by the fact that they were yellow and quite a few were broken. His right eye was wide, and Bête Noir's eyelids barely covered it when he blinked. Bête Noir also didn't have a right cheek. It was just muscle under some sort of clear cover. "...You want to help someone?" "Are you gonna help me, or should I just leave?" "Depends. I need you to explain who this woman is." Bête Noir scowled. At least Samuel guessed that was what he was doing. It was hard to see expressions on a half melted face. "What does it matter to you?!" "I can't help you if you keep being difficult!" Bête Noir growled, but didn't produce any sort of retort. "...This woman just so happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, and got caught in an explosion-" "An explosion?!" "Power surge, but that's not the point. This is just some random pregnant woman who got caught in the explosion. She wasn't even going to the party, she was just cleanup crew for the rich kids there. That's why you need to help her." Samuel sighed. "Fine. I'll call an ambulance." He sighed and pulled out his phone to dial 911. "...thank you." Bête Noir crouched down and placed the woman gently on the pavement. As soon as Bête Noir began standing back up, Samuel kicked him in the head. Bête Noir landed with a thud. "Ow! What the fuck?!" "The cops are going to haul you away soon, so just sit still." Bête Noir tried to sit up, but he didn't have the strength. Samuel hadn't ever taken the time to notice, but Bête Noir was incredibly thin. Some of his bones could be seen poking out of his body, due to there not being enough space for them. It was concerning, but Bête Noir was a villain. He needed to be detained so as to reduce the danger on the streets. "Next time you fuck me over, maybe be a bit more gentle?" Bête Noir snarked. "Are you seriously going to make jokes right now?" "If I can somehow be a nuisance, I will be." Bête Noir coughed before laughing. "That said, I have somewhere to be." Bête Noir suddenly bit his hand. The blood poured out and turned into a near opaque purple gas. Samuel tried to grab at where the villain had been before, but he was gone. "God damn it."
	[WP] The hero is enjoying a day off thanks to a rare quiet night in the city. That is until the villain shows up to her door, but carrying an unconscious woman and looking distraught. “I saved her from a party....I know this is weird, but I didn’t know who else to go to.”	File this one under 'No good deed goes unpunished.' So, I was at home, enjoying what I expected to be a quiet night. Miserable March weather just with wintery wet is a friend to the super-heroine. When it rains cats and dogs, criminals stay indoors. Hot summer nights are my busiest time. The town is wall-to-wall assholes looking for trouble and victims and finding both. I had just gotten out of the bubble bath and was about halfway through that history of New Hollywood Johnny Noir recommended and was waiting for the kettle to boil for my chamomile tea. Of course my bell rang. I sighed and put my e-reader aside and looked wistfully at the plate of shortbread cookies by my cup. "One minute please," I said as I stepped into my panties and sweats simultaneously. "Leah, it's an emergency," the person outside shouted. I paused, both because of his urgency and because the voice was familiar but I couldn't place it. So, skip the brassiere and put on a T-Shirt with and open hoodie from my last medical school reunion. I looked through the door cam. Male, Caucasian with light hair plastered to his forehead. Height- five eleven, with skinny build- call it a buck fifty. Age- I'd say upper twenties. He wore a heavy dark single breasted overcoat. But it was the thin girl cradled in his arms that concerned me. Caucasian her dark hair was straight and lank as it hung loosely from her lolling head. I'd be surprised if she were old enough to drink legally. If this guy was tall and lean, the girl was short and painfully thin. The hospital said she wasn't even a C-note on the scale, even though she was 5'3''. But I am getting ahead of myself. I flung open the door and the man shoved his way into my foyer. He looked panicked- distraught and said as he stumbled to the nearest couch, “I saved her from a party....I know this is weird, but I didn’t know who else to go to.” And that's when I realized- seeing that dirty blonde hair and cockney accent… "PHASER!" I brought my fields up and focused my energy into my hands. "Listen, Aurora," he said, "can we not do the brawling nonsense… the girl…" I stopped my hand energy, but kept my shields up. "And how did you know…" "Where you live? Most of us know. Some bugger had the bright idea to keep a watch on your house. Plant a camera or something. But once you're out the door, 'VOOM!'" "Sounds like Solon." I considered the situation as he placed the girl on the couch. Underneath her shabby car coat she wore a black sparkly cocktail dress that was cut very high in front and with a skirt so short that it left little to the imagination. Her matching stilettos were scuffed- and I suspect them were responsible for the scrape on her right cheek. "I know you hate me…" "Phaser, I don't hate you. You vex me, but hate? No. You're a crook- a master thief, but you've never hurt anyone in any of your operations and never offered violence against anything besides a safe door or alarm system. Almost anyone else and you'd be spitting teeth." I lowered my shields and went to the girl. I turned over my shoulder and said, "Don't think I'm not keeping an eye on you." He was a slippery customer- literally. His ability to change into gas or liquid and his sticky fingers kept him high on the International Super Hero Organization's hit parade, even if the worst injury anyone suffered in his long crime spree was a twisted ankle while in hot pursuit. I checked the girl and my dislike for Phaser dissipated like he did in the Diamond District job last May. Her pulse was erratic and breathing shallow. "Tell me what happened and why take her to my doorstep and not an emergency room?" "I was at a loft party in Alston." He paused as if he said too much. I supposed he shrugged but I was seeing how the kid's eyes reacted to the light from my fingertips. "I was celebrating my latest job, I suppose you'll be reading about it in The Herald. Anyhow, the party was one of these underground things- not legal, not licensed, but usually good fun. DJ, fetish costumes, full bar, women…" Not my idea of a good time as you may surmise but I was not judging. But the sub rosa nature of the gathering may explain why he was unwilling to go about a mile further to the hospitals nearby. "So I was hitting on her, and we were drinking… She was having some kinda punch there. I had a couple of beers from the keg. Her name is Liz. Uh… There were other blokes there. I dunno. Maybe someone doctored her drink?" I mean she was taking something too…" He held out her purse. I poured out the contents: breath mints and a prescription bottle with the label removed. I opened the cap and groaned when I saw the rainbow within. It was a Physician's Desk Reference pharmacopeia pop quiz. At this point, thankfully, her eyes fluttered and she groaned. "Liz? Is that your name, honey?" She moaned affirmatively. "Can you tell me what's wrong?" "I go to Northeastern." "That's useful," Phaser said from my dining room. "Brad said he had some Chilli Willies… I met this cute guy. Older dude. I had some of the punch. They said there was grain in it." "Chilli Willies?" Phaser asked. "It's a street term for a Benzodiazepine. Kid mixed it with strong booze. Yeah, she's gonna be a mess." I stood up. "Honey, you lie there a while. I'm going to get my bag we'll get you better, OK?" Phaser was in front of the cupboard in my dining room admiring my silver collection. Indicating my menorah he said, "I didn't know you were Jewish." It's one of the joys of being mixed race. And yes, Cohen is not an uncommon surname among African-Americans. I had bigger worries than my heritage. I led him to where I kept my emergency medical kit. "She had benzos and booze- at a minimum. Bad combo." "What can it do?" You've seen the slurred speech and loss of consciousness, dizziness, drowsiness, and balance problems. Was she irritable or hostile?" "She snapped at some gal and she was a bit snarly about the music." "That scans. I'm worried that there can be additional respiratory and cardiovascular side effects with the two depressants. At least there hasn't been any…" Our noses wrinkled at the fecal smell. "Diarrhea." I sighed. At least it was a leather couch. "I'm going to stabilize her and call an ambulance. If you want to stay, fine. If you want to flee, I won't stop you. But if I find out you gave her those pills, then you are in a world of hurt. Capice?" He scoffed. "I don't need to slip a bint a Mickey Finn to shag her." He was conventionally good looking- like a young Robert Redford mixed with a young Sean Bean, though the results were a bit bland. Cute, but not really my type. I got on my cell to call 911 and kept vigil by the girl. He drove away before the ambulance arrived… in my car. He left his boosted ride in my driveway. That was not the only thing he stole. My menorah was gone and he took all the cookies from my plate and the box as well. The girl was underage- in fact a high schooler. She had been ordered by 'Brad' to pretend to be a college girl. Too bad for 'Brad' he worked out of Nashua, because now he is facing a Mann act bounce and serious Club Fed time. My car was recovered, with a full tank of gas, at Logan Airport two days later. I was detailing the encounter to a nice FBI agent and a Statie when the Fed gets a call. It turned out that Phaser had spent the three days before he came to my home conducting a brilliant data heist from MIT and three high tech companies. Solon compensated him very handsomely. The Silver Fencer theorized that he picked to girl up to keep me occupied so he could escape. I'm unsure if it gives him too much or too little credit. Either way I disagree. All my peers and I agreed that his swiping my menorah that I bought for twenty dollars at the Judaica store three blocks away was a crime of opportunity so he could brag to his crooked peers about the trophy. Flash forward six months later: ISHO regional summons me. Paragon is there. I'm surprised. He is kept busy enough in New York as is. "You have a package," he says. All packages get sent to regional to be scanned for safety. They opened it. Inside was a menorah. A beautiful menorah. A beautiful glass menorah. A beautiful Murano glass menorah from Venice. When the investigators tracked it to the source, the glassmakers cheerfully told them it was a custom order from a nice Englishman who paid fifteen thousand Euros. So now I have the ISHO internal affairs and the ethics board sweating me like I'm in a Turkish bath. I'm on probation and I am going to Mykonos. He's been spotted there with some fancy ladies he met in Rome and they've been living it up courtesy of his ill-gotten gains. I'm going to track him down. I am going to tell him that the girl is recovering well and getting the help she needs. I am going to tell him a very bad man is behind bars because of what he did. I am going to forgive him for my car and original menorah. Then I'm going to hit him so hard that his kids will be born dizzy!	Samuel stared. For a second, he hadn't even recognized Bête Noir. His waist long hair, instead of it's usual ponytail, was hanging down, dripping some sort of black grease onto the pavement. Beyond that, it seemed Bête Noir had quite a few scars under his mask. Samuel hadn't realized the extent of the scarring. Normally, Bête Noir's mask covered all his facial deformities. The left side of his face was fairly normal, despite the fresh cuts on it. The right side was Phantom Of The Opera levels of disfigured. The left side of Bête Noir's mouth, for example, had no lips. Strings of skin connected the two halves of his mouth as if he was melting. His teeth were visible at all times, which wasn't helped by the fact that they were yellow and quite a few were broken. His right eye was wide, and Bête Noir's eyelids barely covered it when he blinked. Bête Noir also didn't have a right cheek. It was just muscle under some sort of clear cover. "...You want to help someone?" "Are you gonna help me, or should I just leave?" "Depends. I need you to explain who this woman is." Bête Noir scowled. At least Samuel guessed that was what he was doing. It was hard to see expressions on a half melted face. "What does it matter to you?!" "I can't help you if you keep being difficult!" Bête Noir growled, but didn't produce any sort of retort. "...This woman just so happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, and got caught in an explosion-" "An explosion?!" "Power surge, but that's not the point. This is just some random pregnant woman who got caught in the explosion. She wasn't even going to the party, she was just cleanup crew for the rich kids there. That's why you need to help her." Samuel sighed. "Fine. I'll call an ambulance." He sighed and pulled out his phone to dial 911. "...thank you." Bête Noir crouched down and placed the woman gently on the pavement. As soon as Bête Noir began standing back up, Samuel kicked him in the head. Bête Noir landed with a thud. "Ow! What the fuck?!" "The cops are going to haul you away soon, so just sit still." Bête Noir tried to sit up, but he didn't have the strength. Samuel hadn't ever taken the time to notice, but Bête Noir was incredibly thin. Some of his bones could be seen poking out of his body, due to there not being enough space for them. It was concerning, but Bête Noir was a villain. He needed to be detained so as to reduce the danger on the streets. "Next time you fuck me over, maybe be a bit more gentle?" Bête Noir snarked. "Are you seriously going to make jokes right now?" "If I can somehow be a nuisance, I will be." Bête Noir coughed before laughing. "That said, I have somewhere to be." Bête Noir suddenly bit his hand. The blood poured out and turned into a near opaque purple gas. Samuel tried to grab at where the villain had been before, but he was gone. "God damn it."
	[WP] The hero is enjoying a day off thanks to a rare quiet night in the city. That is until the villain shows up to her door, but carrying an unconscious woman and looking distraught. “I saved her from a party....I know this is weird, but I didn’t know who else to go to.”	Pounding on my door; then, a low voice: “Angel!” Someone in search of a hero, then. I didn’t recognize the man through the peephole, nor the teenaged girl slumped against him. He knocked again. “I can see your shadow through the peephole,” he said. “She needs your help.” I opened the door as far as the chain allowed. It was supposed to be my night off. I’d just helped the police round up the leadership of the Vipers, a nasty gang with connections to international arms smugglers. And Dr. Peterman had promised not to give out my home address anymore. “Who are you?” He looked confused. “Huh? Angel, you know me.” He shifted the girl to point at his face. There was something vaguely familiar about the shape of his jaw. He sighed and covered his eyes with his hand. “Firewalker!” I fell back on instinct, lighting my hands in cold white flame. I could feel the flames at my back, too, like wings. That face—albeit obscured by a mask—was on every wall of every precinct in the city. Dr. Peterman had sent me against him twice already, though he’d always managed to evade me. And now he stood outside my door. A few heartbeats passed, as I waited for Firewalker to burst through the security chain and attack. Then I heard the unmistakeable chunky gurgle and splat of someone vomiting. “Helen, I didn’t have anywhere else to bring her.” The flames from my hands dissipated almost without conscious thought. He knew my name. Firewalker knew my name and where I lived, but he hadn’t come to fight me. I reapproached the door. “What’s wrong with her?” The girl was pale, her eyes unfocused. “I found her at a party. I think... something bad was going to happen to her.” Firewalker looked into my eyes, then. “She just needs a safe place to sleep it off.” Against my better judgment, I let them in. Firewalker half-dragged the girl to my peeling pleather couch. “How do you know my real name?” I asked, reaching for the Advil in my kitchen cabinet. “I knew you... before. I mean, I remember you. I used to be a security guard at BRI. You signed in to visit Dr. Peterman every Tuesday at 3.” I filled a glass at the sink. “Were you there, when—” Even four months later, I struggled to put into words what had happened to me in the lab that day. Dr. Peterman was mentoring me through my thesis, and that day he’d wanted to show me his new project. Then— pain, and unbearable light, and screaming, and the white flames. “Yeah.” Firewalker interrupted. “Yeah, I was there. How do you think this happened?” He shook his hand with a snap and his fingers ignited in yellow flame. I stared. “You’re like me?” He stared back. “I thought you saw me at First Union Bank. And at the Mayor’s victory party.” “Well I knew you were an arsonist but I didn’t know you were like me.” Firewalker frowned. “I’m not an arsonist.” Then he hissed a little and shook the flames out again. I set the water and pills down next to the girl. “Your flames hurt you?” I took his hand to examine it. The pads of his fingers were puffy and shiny. “Uh... yeah.” His voice sounded strangled, and I felt uncomfortably close. I dropped his hand. “Yours... don’t?” “No. Never.” The girl moaned a little, then, and Firewalker turned to check on her. “You think I’m an arsonist?” He asked. “You set First Union on fire.” I reminded him. “I thought BRI was keeping evidence in a safe deposit box. No one got hurt.” “You hurt all those people at the Mayor’s.” I heard my own voice rising. “And you killed all the people on that barge last month.” “I didn’t have anything to do with the barge fire.” Firewalker snapped back. “And the Mayor’s? I burned my way into the back room, sure. But then you set the whole ballroom on fire. I appreciated the distraction while I escaped, but that was pretty reckless.” “I wasn’t trying to help you escape! I was trying to corner you!” Firewalker took a big step back. “You... you wanted to capture me? Why?” “You’re at the top of every most wanted list! Dr. Peterman said—” Firewalker exploded. “You’re actually working with that guy? After what he did to you? I thought you were infiltrating BRI to bring them down, but you’re actually just their... their goon?” I felt queasy. “I’m... I fight crime.” “Helen... BRI is a front company for a major criminal enterprise. They’ve been experimenting on people for years. They’ve bought off the Mayor and half the police. They’re exterminating the Vipers, though I haven’t figured out why yet. I mean, good riddance, but there’s got to be some profit in it for them.” I sat down, hard. Firewalker suddenly looked horrified. “Did you kill the others on purpose? Jenny and Ty and Chance?” “I fight villains.” I said weakly. “You. You’re a villain.” “Who told you I was a villain?” Firewalker almost looked sorry for me. “Who told you that you were a hero, Helen?” *Edited to (attempt to) fix formatting.	When I became a villain there wasn't exactly a need to know medical things. Sure, with time, I learned to dress my own wounds but that was the limit to my abilities. I knew I had no other choice, didn't feel safe dropping her off somewhere and hospitals weren't a choice since police were there and it was rather annoying to have to deal with. So I clumsily pulled my mask over my head and went to the place I knew the hero would be. She blinked at me, in fact she hadn't stopped blinking at me as if she was torn between attacking me and helping the girl. Well obviously there was a reason she was a hero. She helped me take the girl into her dining room, we both carefully laid the girl down. I quickly moved several feet away, pressing myself into a corner so it was clear I wasn't here to attack the hero. "What happened?" I could see the tenseness in her shoulders but she had most of her attention on the girl, checking her over. I rub my forehead, the throbbing sensation of a headache appearing. "I was walking down the street and heard a girl screaming, then she wasn't. When I ran over there it was several guys." I mutter, my shoulders tucked in so far I think I might just disappear. Now that I wasn't focused on the girl I could feel the pain in my own body from having to fight off three guys with only my fists and make shift weapons. I already could feel a large bruise forming across my ribs from one of them slamming a metal pipe against my side. The bastards didn't know what to do when they came across a woman that could actually fight them. I saw the hero glance over at me, I knew it bugged her that I knew her supposed secret identity though I never really thought to use that to my advantage. I knew she had a younger brother that just started his first year of college, he served me coffee every morning. I knew her father passed when she was little from a car accident and that her mother was getting sicker in the hospital from some disease they couldn't name. I wondered if it bothered her, the fact that we could defend ourselves but others couldn't. I made the mental note to send the woman, that attacked woman, a few places she could go to learn self defense. "You got to her on time luckily, she just has a couple bruises but I can take care of her from here." The message was clear. I nodded to someone who wasn't even paying attention and finally moved forward to go to the door. Instantly there was a knife pointed towards my throat. I ignored the slight ache in my chest and stared at the hero. Without her silly outfit, not that mine was any better, she looked mundane in the most striking way possible. In costume it was easy to think she was more than human but standing in the living room, her home a place full of herself, she was utterly human. I could tell how exposed she felt so I took a small step back and held my hands up. "I'm just leaving." I say carefully. The hero blinks, it's then I notice how long her lashes are, and slowly puts down her own knife. "Why did you do it?" For a moment I'm confused then it hits me and I can't help but scoff loudly. This causes me to wince and my fingers twitch to hold my side but I had long since learned to hide my weaknesses. However the hero is too observant and I see, if I dare say, concern flash in her eyes. "Right, I'm a terrible monster so I would never help a person in danger." I say, injecting as much venom and sarcasm in my voice. I don't want her concern. She bites her lip and glances over at the girl, I almost want to scoff again, of course that's what she thought. I move forward again, probably a little to fast, because then my back is being slammed against the floor and I have a knife pressing against my throat this time. I bite down hard to keep from making a noise of pain. "Alright, next time I'll just let the person get killed. How's that?" I ask but the hero looks too distracted and suddenly I feel her fingers pressing into my shoulders. "What are you doing?" I hiss but then she digs them into my rib cage and it's so unexpected I yelp, the ending of the sound muffled as I bite my tongue and press my lips together. I resist the urge to cuss her out as best as possible. Then the knife is moving off my throat and towards my side. My body freezes and I go into panic mode, despite the soreness of my body I maneuver the knife out of her hands and then roll us over to press the knife against her chest. "Listen, I'm not here to hurt you or anyone. I wanted to drop off the girl-" "I was trying to check." She cuts me off in a huff, looking annoyed. "Check?" (1/2)
	[WP] The hero is enjoying a day off thanks to a rare quiet night in the city. That is until the villain shows up to her door, but carrying an unconscious woman and looking distraught. “I saved her from a party....I know this is weird, but I didn’t know who else to go to.”	File this one under 'No good deed goes unpunished.' So, I was at home, enjoying what I expected to be a quiet night. Miserable March weather just with wintery wet is a friend to the super-heroine. When it rains cats and dogs, criminals stay indoors. Hot summer nights are my busiest time. The town is wall-to-wall assholes looking for trouble and victims and finding both. I had just gotten out of the bubble bath and was about halfway through that history of New Hollywood Johnny Noir recommended and was waiting for the kettle to boil for my chamomile tea. Of course my bell rang. I sighed and put my e-reader aside and looked wistfully at the plate of shortbread cookies by my cup. "One minute please," I said as I stepped into my panties and sweats simultaneously. "Leah, it's an emergency," the person outside shouted. I paused, both because of his urgency and because the voice was familiar but I couldn't place it. So, skip the brassiere and put on a T-Shirt with and open hoodie from my last medical school reunion. I looked through the door cam. Male, Caucasian with light hair plastered to his forehead. Height- five eleven, with skinny build- call it a buck fifty. Age- I'd say upper twenties. He wore a heavy dark single breasted overcoat. But it was the thin girl cradled in his arms that concerned me. Caucasian her dark hair was straight and lank as it hung loosely from her lolling head. I'd be surprised if she were old enough to drink legally. If this guy was tall and lean, the girl was short and painfully thin. The hospital said she wasn't even a C-note on the scale, even though she was 5'3''. But I am getting ahead of myself. I flung open the door and the man shoved his way into my foyer. He looked panicked- distraught and said as he stumbled to the nearest couch, “I saved her from a party....I know this is weird, but I didn’t know who else to go to.” And that's when I realized- seeing that dirty blonde hair and cockney accent… "PHASER!" I brought my fields up and focused my energy into my hands. "Listen, Aurora," he said, "can we not do the brawling nonsense… the girl…" I stopped my hand energy, but kept my shields up. "And how did you know…" "Where you live? Most of us know. Some bugger had the bright idea to keep a watch on your house. Plant a camera or something. But once you're out the door, 'VOOM!'" "Sounds like Solon." I considered the situation as he placed the girl on the couch. Underneath her shabby car coat she wore a black sparkly cocktail dress that was cut very high in front and with a skirt so short that it left little to the imagination. Her matching stilettos were scuffed- and I suspect them were responsible for the scrape on her right cheek. "I know you hate me…" "Phaser, I don't hate you. You vex me, but hate? No. You're a crook- a master thief, but you've never hurt anyone in any of your operations and never offered violence against anything besides a safe door or alarm system. Almost anyone else and you'd be spitting teeth." I lowered my shields and went to the girl. I turned over my shoulder and said, "Don't think I'm not keeping an eye on you." He was a slippery customer- literally. His ability to change into gas or liquid and his sticky fingers kept him high on the International Super Hero Organization's hit parade, even if the worst injury anyone suffered in his long crime spree was a twisted ankle while in hot pursuit. I checked the girl and my dislike for Phaser dissipated like he did in the Diamond District job last May. Her pulse was erratic and breathing shallow. "Tell me what happened and why take her to my doorstep and not an emergency room?" "I was at a loft party in Alston." He paused as if he said too much. I supposed he shrugged but I was seeing how the kid's eyes reacted to the light from my fingertips. "I was celebrating my latest job, I suppose you'll be reading about it in The Herald. Anyhow, the party was one of these underground things- not legal, not licensed, but usually good fun. DJ, fetish costumes, full bar, women…" Not my idea of a good time as you may surmise but I was not judging. But the sub rosa nature of the gathering may explain why he was unwilling to go about a mile further to the hospitals nearby. "So I was hitting on her, and we were drinking… She was having some kinda punch there. I had a couple of beers from the keg. Her name is Liz. Uh… There were other blokes there. I dunno. Maybe someone doctored her drink?" I mean she was taking something too…" He held out her purse. I poured out the contents: breath mints and a prescription bottle with the label removed. I opened the cap and groaned when I saw the rainbow within. It was a Physician's Desk Reference pharmacopeia pop quiz. At this point, thankfully, her eyes fluttered and she groaned. "Liz? Is that your name, honey?" She moaned affirmatively. "Can you tell me what's wrong?" "I go to Northeastern." "That's useful," Phaser said from my dining room. "Brad said he had some Chilli Willies… I met this cute guy. Older dude. I had some of the punch. They said there was grain in it." "Chilli Willies?" Phaser asked. "It's a street term for a Benzodiazepine. Kid mixed it with strong booze. Yeah, she's gonna be a mess." I stood up. "Honey, you lie there a while. I'm going to get my bag we'll get you better, OK?" Phaser was in front of the cupboard in my dining room admiring my silver collection. Indicating my menorah he said, "I didn't know you were Jewish." It's one of the joys of being mixed race. And yes, Cohen is not an uncommon surname among African-Americans. I had bigger worries than my heritage. I led him to where I kept my emergency medical kit. "She had benzos and booze- at a minimum. Bad combo." "What can it do?" You've seen the slurred speech and loss of consciousness, dizziness, drowsiness, and balance problems. Was she irritable or hostile?" "She snapped at some gal and she was a bit snarly about the music." "That scans. I'm worried that there can be additional respiratory and cardiovascular side effects with the two depressants. At least there hasn't been any…" Our noses wrinkled at the fecal smell. "Diarrhea." I sighed. At least it was a leather couch. "I'm going to stabilize her and call an ambulance. If you want to stay, fine. If you want to flee, I won't stop you. But if I find out you gave her those pills, then you are in a world of hurt. Capice?" He scoffed. "I don't need to slip a bint a Mickey Finn to shag her." He was conventionally good looking- like a young Robert Redford mixed with a young Sean Bean, though the results were a bit bland. Cute, but not really my type. I got on my cell to call 911 and kept vigil by the girl. He drove away before the ambulance arrived… in my car. He left his boosted ride in my driveway. That was not the only thing he stole. My menorah was gone and he took all the cookies from my plate and the box as well. The girl was underage- in fact a high schooler. She had been ordered by 'Brad' to pretend to be a college girl. Too bad for 'Brad' he worked out of Nashua, because now he is facing a Mann act bounce and serious Club Fed time. My car was recovered, with a full tank of gas, at Logan Airport two days later. I was detailing the encounter to a nice FBI agent and a Statie when the Fed gets a call. It turned out that Phaser had spent the three days before he came to my home conducting a brilliant data heist from MIT and three high tech companies. Solon compensated him very handsomely. The Silver Fencer theorized that he picked to girl up to keep me occupied so he could escape. I'm unsure if it gives him too much or too little credit. Either way I disagree. All my peers and I agreed that his swiping my menorah that I bought for twenty dollars at the Judaica store three blocks away was a crime of opportunity so he could brag to his crooked peers about the trophy. Flash forward six months later: ISHO regional summons me. Paragon is there. I'm surprised. He is kept busy enough in New York as is. "You have a package," he says. All packages get sent to regional to be scanned for safety. They opened it. Inside was a menorah. A beautiful menorah. A beautiful glass menorah. A beautiful Murano glass menorah from Venice. When the investigators tracked it to the source, the glassmakers cheerfully told them it was a custom order from a nice Englishman who paid fifteen thousand Euros. So now I have the ISHO internal affairs and the ethics board sweating me like I'm in a Turkish bath. I'm on probation and I am going to Mykonos. He's been spotted there with some fancy ladies he met in Rome and they've been living it up courtesy of his ill-gotten gains. I'm going to track him down. I am going to tell him that the girl is recovering well and getting the help she needs. I am going to tell him a very bad man is behind bars because of what he did. I am going to forgive him for my car and original menorah. Then I'm going to hit him so hard that his kids will be born dizzy!	When I became a villain there wasn't exactly a need to know medical things. Sure, with time, I learned to dress my own wounds but that was the limit to my abilities. I knew I had no other choice, didn't feel safe dropping her off somewhere and hospitals weren't a choice since police were there and it was rather annoying to have to deal with. So I clumsily pulled my mask over my head and went to the place I knew the hero would be. She blinked at me, in fact she hadn't stopped blinking at me as if she was torn between attacking me and helping the girl. Well obviously there was a reason she was a hero. She helped me take the girl into her dining room, we both carefully laid the girl down. I quickly moved several feet away, pressing myself into a corner so it was clear I wasn't here to attack the hero. "What happened?" I could see the tenseness in her shoulders but she had most of her attention on the girl, checking her over. I rub my forehead, the throbbing sensation of a headache appearing. "I was walking down the street and heard a girl screaming, then she wasn't. When I ran over there it was several guys." I mutter, my shoulders tucked in so far I think I might just disappear. Now that I wasn't focused on the girl I could feel the pain in my own body from having to fight off three guys with only my fists and make shift weapons. I already could feel a large bruise forming across my ribs from one of them slamming a metal pipe against my side. The bastards didn't know what to do when they came across a woman that could actually fight them. I saw the hero glance over at me, I knew it bugged her that I knew her supposed secret identity though I never really thought to use that to my advantage. I knew she had a younger brother that just started his first year of college, he served me coffee every morning. I knew her father passed when she was little from a car accident and that her mother was getting sicker in the hospital from some disease they couldn't name. I wondered if it bothered her, the fact that we could defend ourselves but others couldn't. I made the mental note to send the woman, that attacked woman, a few places she could go to learn self defense. "You got to her on time luckily, she just has a couple bruises but I can take care of her from here." The message was clear. I nodded to someone who wasn't even paying attention and finally moved forward to go to the door. Instantly there was a knife pointed towards my throat. I ignored the slight ache in my chest and stared at the hero. Without her silly outfit, not that mine was any better, she looked mundane in the most striking way possible. In costume it was easy to think she was more than human but standing in the living room, her home a place full of herself, she was utterly human. I could tell how exposed she felt so I took a small step back and held my hands up. "I'm just leaving." I say carefully. The hero blinks, it's then I notice how long her lashes are, and slowly puts down her own knife. "Why did you do it?" For a moment I'm confused then it hits me and I can't help but scoff loudly. This causes me to wince and my fingers twitch to hold my side but I had long since learned to hide my weaknesses. However the hero is too observant and I see, if I dare say, concern flash in her eyes. "Right, I'm a terrible monster so I would never help a person in danger." I say, injecting as much venom and sarcasm in my voice. I don't want her concern. She bites her lip and glances over at the girl, I almost want to scoff again, of course that's what she thought. I move forward again, probably a little to fast, because then my back is being slammed against the floor and I have a knife pressing against my throat this time. I bite down hard to keep from making a noise of pain. "Alright, next time I'll just let the person get killed. How's that?" I ask but the hero looks too distracted and suddenly I feel her fingers pressing into my shoulders. "What are you doing?" I hiss but then she digs them into my rib cage and it's so unexpected I yelp, the ending of the sound muffled as I bite my tongue and press my lips together. I resist the urge to cuss her out as best as possible. Then the knife is moving off my throat and towards my side. My body freezes and I go into panic mode, despite the soreness of my body I maneuver the knife out of her hands and then roll us over to press the knife against her chest. "Listen, I'm not here to hurt you or anyone. I wanted to drop off the girl-" "I was trying to check." She cuts me off in a huff, looking annoyed. "Check?" (1/2)
	[WP] The hero is enjoying a day off thanks to a rare quiet night in the city. That is until the villain shows up to her door, but carrying an unconscious woman and looking distraught. “I saved her from a party....I know this is weird, but I didn’t know who else to go to.”	Pounding on my door; then, a low voice: “Angel!” Someone in search of a hero, then. I didn’t recognize the man through the peephole, nor the teenaged girl slumped against him. He knocked again. “I can see your shadow through the peephole,” he said. “She needs your help.” I opened the door as far as the chain allowed. It was supposed to be my night off. I’d just helped the police round up the leadership of the Vipers, a nasty gang with connections to international arms smugglers. And Dr. Peterman had promised not to give out my home address anymore. “Who are you?” He looked confused. “Huh? Angel, you know me.” He shifted the girl to point at his face. There was something vaguely familiar about the shape of his jaw. He sighed and covered his eyes with his hand. “Firewalker!” I fell back on instinct, lighting my hands in cold white flame. I could feel the flames at my back, too, like wings. That face—albeit obscured by a mask—was on every wall of every precinct in the city. Dr. Peterman had sent me against him twice already, though he’d always managed to evade me. And now he stood outside my door. A few heartbeats passed, as I waited for Firewalker to burst through the security chain and attack. Then I heard the unmistakeable chunky gurgle and splat of someone vomiting. “Helen, I didn’t have anywhere else to bring her.” The flames from my hands dissipated almost without conscious thought. He knew my name. Firewalker knew my name and where I lived, but he hadn’t come to fight me. I reapproached the door. “What’s wrong with her?” The girl was pale, her eyes unfocused. “I found her at a party. I think... something bad was going to happen to her.” Firewalker looked into my eyes, then. “She just needs a safe place to sleep it off.” Against my better judgment, I let them in. Firewalker half-dragged the girl to my peeling pleather couch. “How do you know my real name?” I asked, reaching for the Advil in my kitchen cabinet. “I knew you... before. I mean, I remember you. I used to be a security guard at BRI. You signed in to visit Dr. Peterman every Tuesday at 3.” I filled a glass at the sink. “Were you there, when—” Even four months later, I struggled to put into words what had happened to me in the lab that day. Dr. Peterman was mentoring me through my thesis, and that day he’d wanted to show me his new project. Then— pain, and unbearable light, and screaming, and the white flames. “Yeah.” Firewalker interrupted. “Yeah, I was there. How do you think this happened?” He shook his hand with a snap and his fingers ignited in yellow flame. I stared. “You’re like me?” He stared back. “I thought you saw me at First Union Bank. And at the Mayor’s victory party.” “Well I knew you were an arsonist but I didn’t know you were like me.” Firewalker frowned. “I’m not an arsonist.” Then he hissed a little and shook the flames out again. I set the water and pills down next to the girl. “Your flames hurt you?” I took his hand to examine it. The pads of his fingers were puffy and shiny. “Uh... yeah.” His voice sounded strangled, and I felt uncomfortably close. I dropped his hand. “Yours... don’t?” “No. Never.” The girl moaned a little, then, and Firewalker turned to check on her. “You think I’m an arsonist?” He asked. “You set First Union on fire.” I reminded him. “I thought BRI was keeping evidence in a safe deposit box. No one got hurt.” “You hurt all those people at the Mayor’s.” I heard my own voice rising. “And you killed all the people on that barge last month.” “I didn’t have anything to do with the barge fire.” Firewalker snapped back. “And the Mayor’s? I burned my way into the back room, sure. But then you set the whole ballroom on fire. I appreciated the distraction while I escaped, but that was pretty reckless.” “I wasn’t trying to help you escape! I was trying to corner you!” Firewalker took a big step back. “You... you wanted to capture me? Why?” “You’re at the top of every most wanted list! Dr. Peterman said—” Firewalker exploded. “You’re actually working with that guy? After what he did to you? I thought you were infiltrating BRI to bring them down, but you’re actually just their... their goon?” I felt queasy. “I’m... I fight crime.” “Helen... BRI is a front company for a major criminal enterprise. They’ve been experimenting on people for years. They’ve bought off the Mayor and half the police. They’re exterminating the Vipers, though I haven’t figured out why yet. I mean, good riddance, but there’s got to be some profit in it for them.” I sat down, hard. Firewalker suddenly looked horrified. “Did you kill the others on purpose? Jenny and Ty and Chance?” “I fight villains.” I said weakly. “You. You’re a villain.” “Who told you I was a villain?” Firewalker almost looked sorry for me. “Who told you that you were a hero, Helen?” *Edited to (attempt to) fix formatting.	Grammer and punctuation be damned! She wasn't always my enemy. It wasn't long ago that we wondered this world together, pinky fingers locked in a hopeful but false promise of something permanent. The knock was frantic but familiar. "What's wrong with her?" "He found her." "How?" "It was a party you fuckin moron! He came from nowhere." Her tone darkened. "He knew" "So you came HERE?" "Yeah, I figured brtwern the two of us anx the pharmacy under your house we could fix this." The cold hit me as her words sunk in. " Well this is it then." "The fuck are you talking about? We NEED to get her downstairs!" It wouldn't matter. He had us both. He used our greatest weakness against us and it paid in full. The sky caught fire behond her,the whistle of the falling ordinance above us became clear. We embraced with our little one between us. For a single moment we were one once again The blast was silent, as our feud came to an end.
	[WP] The hero is enjoying a day off thanks to a rare quiet night in the city. That is until the villain shows up to her door, but carrying an unconscious woman and looking distraught. “I saved her from a party....I know this is weird, but I didn’t know who else to go to.”	"I saved her from a party....I know this is weird, but I didn't know who else to go to." "Somewhere else." She looked at the villain uninterested. "Type D. Quick." The hero turned around to look at the villain again, now interested. "Confirmed?" "Yeah." The villain replied reluctantly. "I'll take her. You can go now." She moved to carry the woman. "Woah... she is mine. If I go, she goes with me. " The villain protested. "Fine." She lead the villain into her lab. She carefully places the woman down and fasten her to the bed. The scan nearby picks up the vital signs of the unconscious woman and begin monitoring. Everything seems normal. The hero proceed to take some blood for confirmation. However, when she approach the woman with the needle, the unsconscious woman woke up and began growling agressively at her. "Told you she is a Type D." "Yeah yeah." The hero dismissed the villain and continued with the blood extraction. The blood glitters slightly in the syringe. This match the description of the type D. But this is the first time she has managed to obtain the live specimen of the virus. She is intriged. ABNORMALITY FOUND IN LEFT FOREARM. PLEASE CHECK. ABNORMALITY FOUND IN LEFT FOREARM. PLEASE CHECK. As she was observing, the monitor begin beeping, breaking the silence in the lab. The scan has found something in the left forearm of the stranger. It was a thin rectangle device inserted right under the skin. It was so thin that it was barely noticable. The hero cautiously removed it and observed. 'QTL' labelled right across the device. But it soon crumble once there was no blood flowing through it. Luckily, the scan would have a copy of the device. "Do you believe me now? I am not responsible for type D virus." The villain said, pointing to the sparkling blood. "Sure. You do not have such brains for this."	Grammer and punctuation be damned! She wasn't always my enemy. It wasn't long ago that we wondered this world together, pinky fingers locked in a hopeful but false promise of something permanent. The knock was frantic but familiar. "What's wrong with her?" "He found her." "How?" "It was a party you fuckin moron! He came from nowhere." Her tone darkened. "He knew" "So you came HERE?" "Yeah, I figured brtwern the two of us anx the pharmacy under your house we could fix this." The cold hit me as her words sunk in. " Well this is it then." "The fuck are you talking about? We NEED to get her downstairs!" It wouldn't matter. He had us both. He used our greatest weakness against us and it paid in full. The sky caught fire behond her,the whistle of the falling ordinance above us became clear. We embraced with our little one between us. For a single moment we were one once again The blast was silent, as our feud came to an end.
	[WP] The hero is enjoying a day off thanks to a rare quiet night in the city. That is until the villain shows up to her door, but carrying an unconscious woman and looking distraught. “I saved her from a party....I know this is weird, but I didn’t know who else to go to.”	File this one under 'No good deed goes unpunished.' So, I was at home, enjoying what I expected to be a quiet night. Miserable March weather just with wintery wet is a friend to the super-heroine. When it rains cats and dogs, criminals stay indoors. Hot summer nights are my busiest time. The town is wall-to-wall assholes looking for trouble and victims and finding both. I had just gotten out of the bubble bath and was about halfway through that history of New Hollywood Johnny Noir recommended and was waiting for the kettle to boil for my chamomile tea. Of course my bell rang. I sighed and put my e-reader aside and looked wistfully at the plate of shortbread cookies by my cup. "One minute please," I said as I stepped into my panties and sweats simultaneously. "Leah, it's an emergency," the person outside shouted. I paused, both because of his urgency and because the voice was familiar but I couldn't place it. So, skip the brassiere and put on a T-Shirt with and open hoodie from my last medical school reunion. I looked through the door cam. Male, Caucasian with light hair plastered to his forehead. Height- five eleven, with skinny build- call it a buck fifty. Age- I'd say upper twenties. He wore a heavy dark single breasted overcoat. But it was the thin girl cradled in his arms that concerned me. Caucasian her dark hair was straight and lank as it hung loosely from her lolling head. I'd be surprised if she were old enough to drink legally. If this guy was tall and lean, the girl was short and painfully thin. The hospital said she wasn't even a C-note on the scale, even though she was 5'3''. But I am getting ahead of myself. I flung open the door and the man shoved his way into my foyer. He looked panicked- distraught and said as he stumbled to the nearest couch, “I saved her from a party....I know this is weird, but I didn’t know who else to go to.” And that's when I realized- seeing that dirty blonde hair and cockney accent… "PHASER!" I brought my fields up and focused my energy into my hands. "Listen, Aurora," he said, "can we not do the brawling nonsense… the girl…" I stopped my hand energy, but kept my shields up. "And how did you know…" "Where you live? Most of us know. Some bugger had the bright idea to keep a watch on your house. Plant a camera or something. But once you're out the door, 'VOOM!'" "Sounds like Solon." I considered the situation as he placed the girl on the couch. Underneath her shabby car coat she wore a black sparkly cocktail dress that was cut very high in front and with a skirt so short that it left little to the imagination. Her matching stilettos were scuffed- and I suspect them were responsible for the scrape on her right cheek. "I know you hate me…" "Phaser, I don't hate you. You vex me, but hate? No. You're a crook- a master thief, but you've never hurt anyone in any of your operations and never offered violence against anything besides a safe door or alarm system. Almost anyone else and you'd be spitting teeth." I lowered my shields and went to the girl. I turned over my shoulder and said, "Don't think I'm not keeping an eye on you." He was a slippery customer- literally. His ability to change into gas or liquid and his sticky fingers kept him high on the International Super Hero Organization's hit parade, even if the worst injury anyone suffered in his long crime spree was a twisted ankle while in hot pursuit. I checked the girl and my dislike for Phaser dissipated like he did in the Diamond District job last May. Her pulse was erratic and breathing shallow. "Tell me what happened and why take her to my doorstep and not an emergency room?" "I was at a loft party in Alston." He paused as if he said too much. I supposed he shrugged but I was seeing how the kid's eyes reacted to the light from my fingertips. "I was celebrating my latest job, I suppose you'll be reading about it in The Herald. Anyhow, the party was one of these underground things- not legal, not licensed, but usually good fun. DJ, fetish costumes, full bar, women…" Not my idea of a good time as you may surmise but I was not judging. But the sub rosa nature of the gathering may explain why he was unwilling to go about a mile further to the hospitals nearby. "So I was hitting on her, and we were drinking… She was having some kinda punch there. I had a couple of beers from the keg. Her name is Liz. Uh… There were other blokes there. I dunno. Maybe someone doctored her drink?" I mean she was taking something too…" He held out her purse. I poured out the contents: breath mints and a prescription bottle with the label removed. I opened the cap and groaned when I saw the rainbow within. It was a Physician's Desk Reference pharmacopeia pop quiz. At this point, thankfully, her eyes fluttered and she groaned. "Liz? Is that your name, honey?" She moaned affirmatively. "Can you tell me what's wrong?" "I go to Northeastern." "That's useful," Phaser said from my dining room. "Brad said he had some Chilli Willies… I met this cute guy. Older dude. I had some of the punch. They said there was grain in it." "Chilli Willies?" Phaser asked. "It's a street term for a Benzodiazepine. Kid mixed it with strong booze. Yeah, she's gonna be a mess." I stood up. "Honey, you lie there a while. I'm going to get my bag we'll get you better, OK?" Phaser was in front of the cupboard in my dining room admiring my silver collection. Indicating my menorah he said, "I didn't know you were Jewish." It's one of the joys of being mixed race. And yes, Cohen is not an uncommon surname among African-Americans. I had bigger worries than my heritage. I led him to where I kept my emergency medical kit. "She had benzos and booze- at a minimum. Bad combo." "What can it do?" You've seen the slurred speech and loss of consciousness, dizziness, drowsiness, and balance problems. Was she irritable or hostile?" "She snapped at some gal and she was a bit snarly about the music." "That scans. I'm worried that there can be additional respiratory and cardiovascular side effects with the two depressants. At least there hasn't been any…" Our noses wrinkled at the fecal smell. "Diarrhea." I sighed. At least it was a leather couch. "I'm going to stabilize her and call an ambulance. If you want to stay, fine. If you want to flee, I won't stop you. But if I find out you gave her those pills, then you are in a world of hurt. Capice?" He scoffed. "I don't need to slip a bint a Mickey Finn to shag her." He was conventionally good looking- like a young Robert Redford mixed with a young Sean Bean, though the results were a bit bland. Cute, but not really my type. I got on my cell to call 911 and kept vigil by the girl. He drove away before the ambulance arrived… in my car. He left his boosted ride in my driveway. That was not the only thing he stole. My menorah was gone and he took all the cookies from my plate and the box as well. The girl was underage- in fact a high schooler. She had been ordered by 'Brad' to pretend to be a college girl. Too bad for 'Brad' he worked out of Nashua, because now he is facing a Mann act bounce and serious Club Fed time. My car was recovered, with a full tank of gas, at Logan Airport two days later. I was detailing the encounter to a nice FBI agent and a Statie when the Fed gets a call. It turned out that Phaser had spent the three days before he came to my home conducting a brilliant data heist from MIT and three high tech companies. Solon compensated him very handsomely. The Silver Fencer theorized that he picked to girl up to keep me occupied so he could escape. I'm unsure if it gives him too much or too little credit. Either way I disagree. All my peers and I agreed that his swiping my menorah that I bought for twenty dollars at the Judaica store three blocks away was a crime of opportunity so he could brag to his crooked peers about the trophy. Flash forward six months later: ISHO regional summons me. Paragon is there. I'm surprised. He is kept busy enough in New York as is. "You have a package," he says. All packages get sent to regional to be scanned for safety. They opened it. Inside was a menorah. A beautiful menorah. A beautiful glass menorah. A beautiful Murano glass menorah from Venice. When the investigators tracked it to the source, the glassmakers cheerfully told them it was a custom order from a nice Englishman who paid fifteen thousand Euros. So now I have the ISHO internal affairs and the ethics board sweating me like I'm in a Turkish bath. I'm on probation and I am going to Mykonos. He's been spotted there with some fancy ladies he met in Rome and they've been living it up courtesy of his ill-gotten gains. I'm going to track him down. I am going to tell him that the girl is recovering well and getting the help she needs. I am going to tell him a very bad man is behind bars because of what he did. I am going to forgive him for my car and original menorah. Then I'm going to hit him so hard that his kids will be born dizzy!	Grammer and punctuation be damned! She wasn't always my enemy. It wasn't long ago that we wondered this world together, pinky fingers locked in a hopeful but false promise of something permanent. The knock was frantic but familiar. "What's wrong with her?" "He found her." "How?" "It was a party you fuckin moron! He came from nowhere." Her tone darkened. "He knew" "So you came HERE?" "Yeah, I figured brtwern the two of us anx the pharmacy under your house we could fix this." The cold hit me as her words sunk in. " Well this is it then." "The fuck are you talking about? We NEED to get her downstairs!" It wouldn't matter. He had us both. He used our greatest weakness against us and it paid in full. The sky caught fire behond her,the whistle of the falling ordinance above us became clear. We embraced with our little one between us. For a single moment we were one once again The blast was silent, as our feud came to an end.
	[WP] The hero is enjoying a day off thanks to a rare quiet night in the city. That is until the villain shows up to her door, but carrying an unconscious woman and looking distraught. “I saved her from a party....I know this is weird, but I didn’t know who else to go to.”	Sitting on the balcony rail, I survey the city below. It is very beautiful, especially at night, and I rarely get to enjoy the view. But tonight, the criminal element seems to have taken a collective break, and for that I'm grateful. Being a super heroine is an amazing job, but it can be a bit tiring. So, I lean back, and take in a deep breath of the night air, and savor. I can't remember the last time since I got to enjoy an eveni... Knock. Who the heck would be here, at this time of night? I doubt it's anything crucial. They'll just think I'm not home. Yeah, let's go with that. I want to enjoy my night off. Knock! Oh come on, really? I scowl into the night sky, clouds lazily floating past. "One night of peace was too much to ask huh?" Knock! Knock! "All right, all right, I'm coming!" Stomping inside, past the couch, with Willis, my black tomcat, giving me the 'napping, go away' look. I scowl at him too. "Sorry to disturb your fiftieth nap. I'll try and keep it down," I sputter, every word dripping with snark. Knock! Knock! Knock! The knocking is escalating to a pounding now. Concerned for my door, I open it without undoing the chain. "What do you want?!?! You have any idea what time it is?!?" Into the room, barging past me, breaking the security chain and nearly knocking me over, is Raven. My arch nemesis. And he's carrying someone, an unconscious woman by the looks of it. He hardly seems to notice my existence now that he is in the apartment. He practically glides to the couch and rather unceremoniously drops his captive onto it, sending Willis careening off to my bedroom. Turning, Raven has barely anytime to react before my punch lands, and he stumbles into the wall, barely catching himself. I'm about to land a second, more powerful blow before he stares me in the eyes, with his hands raised, and slurs out, "Wait! I need your help!" Confusion, and possibly curiousity, stay my hand, and I let him stand up. "Alright then, why the hell are you in my home Raven?!? How did you even know where I live is an even better question." Hands still raised placatingly, he replies, "All in good time, but first you have to help her." With this he raises a taloned finger toward the comatose woman. "I was scouting a local bank, for research, and found this girl, unconscious and abandoned in the alley. I believe her to be drugged or something of the like, so fix her." "Why? Why do you care what happens to her? Not exactly ever been in your wheelhouse to be a rescuer of women?" "Perhaps not, but I was compelled to help. An act of my wizened conscience possibly, but it is neither here nor there. You're the hero here, so save her day. As for me, I think I will be going now." With this, he starts to leave. I snatch at the collar of his cape before he gets too far, and whip him around. "You go nowhere till you tell me what's going on here. You owe me that, after barging in with no explanation. Also, you're a villain, remember. You don't just get to turn that part off and visit the abodes of the local heroes." Raven, still being held by the collar might I add, snarls out, " I couldn't leave her there, ok? I may be a bad guy, but I've got a heart too. She looked so alone." I thought I heard some emotion in that last statement. She must have really struck a cord. "I'll help her, but then afterwards you turn yourself in. Deal?" "You would help her either way, so it's not much of a threat. But fine, deal." With Raven's collar still in hand, I scoop up the girl and fly them all to the nearest hospital. Im careful not to swing him into any passing buildings. Most of them anyway. Arriving, the girl is rushed to the ER, and by now I have let go of Raven. He looks relieved, though it's hard to tell with the cowl. I turn to give him a minute to collect himself before I take him in, but here a shuffle. Turning, he's gone. Left behind is a note. Cute. Hmph. I snatch up the paper, and read, "Tell her goodbye for me."	Grammer and punctuation be damned! She wasn't always my enemy. It wasn't long ago that we wondered this world together, pinky fingers locked in a hopeful but false promise of something permanent. The knock was frantic but familiar. "What's wrong with her?" "He found her." "How?" "It was a party you fuckin moron! He came from nowhere." Her tone darkened. "He knew" "So you came HERE?" "Yeah, I figured brtwern the two of us anx the pharmacy under your house we could fix this." The cold hit me as her words sunk in. " Well this is it then." "The fuck are you talking about? We NEED to get her downstairs!" It wouldn't matter. He had us both. He used our greatest weakness against us and it paid in full. The sky caught fire behond her,the whistle of the falling ordinance above us became clear. We embraced with our little one between us. For a single moment we were one once again The blast was silent, as our feud came to an end.
	[WP] The hero is enjoying a day off thanks to a rare quiet night in the city. That is until the villain shows up to her door, but carrying an unconscious woman and looking distraught. “I saved her from a party....I know this is weird, but I didn’t know who else to go to.”	It was odd. The last person I expected at my doorstep, especially on my coveted "hero's day of rest" I put aside for myself yearly, was Rax. He was cruel, he was brutal, he was deceitful... and yet, here he was with a young woman lying helplessly in his arms. "I understand this is odd," he begins after a few moments silence, "but you must help me. I rescued her from a party, and you were the only person I could think of who could assist." I take the girl whose current complexion can only be described as ghostly, and lay her on the couch. "Who is she? Why does she have any significance?" After some hesitation, Rax spoke. "She's a... ^(love interest.)" I figured I had heard him correctly, but he mumbled under his own breath in such a way that he thought he was discreet enough. "I'm sorry, can you repeat that?" "^(A love interest.)" "One more time?" "A love interest, okay, Arch? Please, help." There was a toxic sound and thick viscosity to his words that can only be described as vitriolic, so I figured continuing to press him would end badly. "Alright, alright, okay. What is the issue?" "Some form of toxin in her system. I'm unaware of which. I saw someone slip a pill. He's been... dealt with." He'd killed another man, but this time it was not in pure evil. It was in prevention. A hopeful latch onto something that he had known was a lost cause. "I... was too late, however. She'd already taken a drink, and had passed out shortly after a fit of nausea and vomiting. I expect it to be something no less of cyanide, unfortunately," Rax said, with an innate sense of dread pouring from his words. "I have already attempted to do any basic first-aid, and have attempted casting some of the healing spells I've used in our altercations, Arch, but to no avail did they succeed. I even attempted the one I used to take toxins out of my own system." After some looking, testing for basic vitals and doing some of my own tests, my heart sank. A woman I had not known even existed until now had somehow entered my frontal my lobe in the form of a splinter. "Rax, have you, uh... tried that revival spell that you used to heal Siel in that battle?" I have seen many things in my time as a hero for the planet. There are things that no man should want to ever see, and things that no man will ever see. When I tell you, then, that there is no worse sight than to see a man of capable of the cruelty such as locking someone inside an explosive the equivalent to 5 Hiroshima explosions have an expression of pure horror, pure sorrow, and pure regret, take my word for it that it can and will break the soul of any being with coherent thoughts in the matter of a second. "No... no, don't say that. Please, do not say that. I... no, no I refuse there's - there's another way, I-" The man's hands began to glow green. He was conjuring a healing spell of some form. "No, I'll fix this! Everything will-" A flash of green light came from the woman as he attempted to heal her. "Everything is going to be okay, I promise! I'm going to fix it-" Another flash of light, to no avail. "I'll fix it, please! I promise..." The man dropped to his knees and ended his attempts to heal the woman. He began to sob, and he fell to the floor in the fetal position. In an attempt to problem solve, hopefully, I spoke up, "...What about the revival spell I mentioned earlier...?" It took a minute for him to answer. His voice now conveyed a sense of how broken he was, now. A voice usually booming with confidence in every aspect had now become quiet, raspy, and soft. "...It wouldn't work... the revival spell only works on those who had an artificial power source, such as magic... biological specimens such as humans would return as the undead..." I began to problem solve more. If his healing spell can remove toxins, then the only thing preventing life is basic homeostasis. Something is preventing her body from returning life. "...Rax, what if we did something crazy for a change, just this once?" The man did not lift his head up, and did not change the position of his body, but his eyes darted in my direction as a sign of interest. "...I'm listening." "I have electricity, hence my name, Arch. Correct?" "...Yes, I suppose so." "So, what if you used your healing spell, and I focused my electricity to her chest region?" "...Are you attempting what I believe you are?" I give a smirk across my face. The man's eyes light up, and he springs to his feet almost as fast as he fell. "Please, let this work." With a flash of green, blue, and white, Rax focused his healing on her and I shocked the daylights out of her being. We repeated this process some 10, 20, possibly 30 times. Just as all hope was lost, a sound was heard. Breathing. Was it breathing? Yes, it definitely had to have been - no other sound in the area sounds like it, even with the wind blowing. As I look to my right, where Rax was standing, his eyes light up further as hope begins to build up. \------------ Two weeks went by. I kept the girl in my house, on the couch, to monitor her. She had begun breathing, but was still very frail and hadn't regained consciousness. Rax had not performed any actions as per usual, which is both depressing and a great change of pace for him. He stops at the house again, as he had been every day for the past two weeks. "Hello, Arch. Lovely day it is, today. A warm 78 and not a cloud in the sky." He had been in this melancholy sense of glee since our attempt at reviving. I let him in, and we ate for a bit together. Then, it happened. The woman began to wake up. She slowly sat up. "W...what happened? ...Jeb? Where am I?" Rax immediately ran to the couch, in tears. No words were exchanged between the two for five minutes. Despite it being my own home, I left the two of them alone for a bit. \------------ It's been a month since all of that incident went down. Since then, Jeb - I mean Rax - hadn't been doing any evil. I've become a very good friend of his, actually. I believe this may have changed him for the good. I don't know what happened in full detail, that fine day. What I do know, however, is that you don't know what it is you have until you lose it. I stick by this motto, and hopefully Rax does too.	Grammer and punctuation be damned! She wasn't always my enemy. It wasn't long ago that we wondered this world together, pinky fingers locked in a hopeful but false promise of something permanent. The knock was frantic but familiar. "What's wrong with her?" "He found her." "How?" "It was a party you fuckin moron! He came from nowhere." Her tone darkened. "He knew" "So you came HERE?" "Yeah, I figured brtwern the two of us anx the pharmacy under your house we could fix this." The cold hit me as her words sunk in. " Well this is it then." "The fuck are you talking about? We NEED to get her downstairs!" It wouldn't matter. He had us both. He used our greatest weakness against us and it paid in full. The sky caught fire behond her,the whistle of the falling ordinance above us became clear. We embraced with our little one between us. For a single moment we were one once again The blast was silent, as our feud came to an end.
	[WP] The hero is enjoying a day off thanks to a rare quiet night in the city. That is until the villain shows up to her door, but carrying an unconscious woman and looking distraught. “I saved her from a party....I know this is weird, but I didn’t know who else to go to.”	Harold "the Grim" Baker opened the door of his small apartment and took in the sight of his visitor. His first instinct was to attack, but you didn't stay a hero for very long by acting on instincts. Instead, he stood still, taking a few seconds to evaluate the situation. Thunder, the infamous tinker-villainess he had fought many times in the past, was not wearing the powered armor she was known for, nor was she carrying any visible weapons. What she was carrying was an motionless woman with colorful, but torn clothing and quite a few scratches on her arms and legs. Hal sighed silently, took a step to the side to allow his enemy to enter, and grumbled: "Come in." "I know what it looks like, but please, you have to help me..." she said, sounding desperate, before her brain caught up to her ears. "Wait, what?" "You wanna come in or not? It's gonna get cold in here if I keep the door open too long." Surprised by this turn of events, she stumbled a few steps forward, and shot a few distracted glances over the apartment. It wasn't anything special - one big room, that served as a kitchen, dining room and living room, with two partly opened doors that led to a bathroom and a sleeping room, respectively. The couch standing in the living room looked old and worn out, but comfortable, and the television was small and outdated. The walls were lined with pictures of Harold with various lineups of other heroes. The other heroes all showed their most charming smiles, but Hal was frowning without exception. Thunder only had a few seconds to take in all of this before Hal had carefully closed the door and pushed her forwards, causing her to stumple another few steps. "Don't just stand there like a deer in the headlights! Lay down your friend on the couch and sit down." He gestured towards his sofa and the cheap wooden chairs standing around his dining table. "She isn't my friend! I barely know her!" the villainess protested weakly, but still mechanically obeyed his orders. She laid the woman down as gentle as she managed with her arms hurting from the excertion of carrying somebody this long, before she sat down on in front of the table. Hal knelt down in front of his patient. Her heartbeat and breathing were periodic and had an acceptable frequency, but she was clearly not responsive. Her breath and clothing smelled of alcohol, but the drug didn't seem like the cause of her uncounsciousness. She seemed to have been knocked out, as indicated by the big bump on her forehead. He brought her in the stable lateral position and went over to the refrigerator to get a cool pack for her head. "Can you call an ambulance? She should be looked over by actual doctors." he asked Thunder. She nodded silently, clearly more composed than she had been a few minutes ago. When they both were finished with their tasks, Hal sat down on the only unused chair in the room, on the opposite side of the table as Thunder, and leaned back. "Now tell me what happened. The whole story, from the beginning, please." he told the villainess while watching her carefully. She wore a blue jeans and a while t-shirt - awefully conventional clothing for a person that had at times held whole cities hostage. Her arms had quite a few bruises and scrapes, and her short blue hair was in utter disarray. She seemed to be exhaused, which was totally understandable as didn't look particulary strong without her powered armor. Thunder shot him a hopeful look. "And when my story satisfies you, you'll let me go?" Hal grunted. "Hell no. Whatever nice thing you did today sure ain't enough to atone for all the shit you pulled over the years. I might show up at your process and say something nice about you tho." Thunders shoulders slumped down, and she looked defeated for a few seconds, before she sighed. "I guess that's only fair. So, the story. I was in my hideout, working on a few new gadgets, but after a few weeks I couldn't take the loneliness any more. You know how it is when you are hiding, with nobody to talk to and nothing new to do, and you can't leave because out there people will attack you on sight?" Harold showed something that might have been an amused smirk for the fraction of a seconds, before his usual grumpiness returned. "I don't. I ain't no criminal, as you might remember." "Anyways, I really needed human interaction, but I wasn't out for a fight. So I tought it would be a good idea to go to a party, just for one night. I thought my chances of not getting caught were pretty good." "You went into the public without any weapons? That's pretty brave." She sighed. "It was stupid, that's what it was. So, I was at this party, and there were a bunch of guys pressuring her." Thunder nodded in the direction of the couch. "She wanted them to leave, but they couldn't take 'no' for an answer. I tried to help her, but well, I'm not much of a fighter without my tools. When she wanted to go home, I offered to accompany her, for security." Hal nooded slightly. "They followed you?" "Yes. Ambushed us, my new acquaintance got knocked out, and I was alone, facing half a dozen guys stronger than me." She laughed bitterly. "What a great villain I am, right? Loosing against a bunch of common thugs." Harold looked at her, face serious. "What happened then?" "I ran away. I got lucky and managed to put some distance between me and them. But I had nowhere safe to go in this area, until I remembered that you live around here. So I came here, to hide from those guys. Thanks for saving my life, by the way." She sounded genuinly grateful. Harold shrugged with his shoulders. "It's my job, ain't it?" "I guess it is. Just like it is your job to arrest me. And you're really sure you can't let me go, just this one time? I stuck out my head to save somebody, you know. I got beat up by people I had no chance of defeating. I was a hero, for once." the villainess pleaded. The aging crimefighter sighed and looked down. "I'm grateful for what you did, I really am. I wished I'd have captured you under other circumstances, while you were being cruel and arrogant, instead of... this." He gestured in her general direction and sighed again. "But in the end of the day, what you did today is what I do every day, since decades. I go out there, risking my health and life to protect innocent people." He gestured towards his impressive muscles. "I'm no particulary strong hero, you know. Minor super strength and durability. Most villains I meet are superior to me, and all I can do is distracting them or trying to shield others. You should really understand that, considering how many times you punched me around." A tiny spark of anger slipped into his eyes, causing Thunder to slide her chair back a little. "On every other day, that story of yours would have you as the bully, me as the guy sticking out his head to save an innocent woman, and she" - he nodded to the direction of the couch - "might as well have become your victim had she met you under other circumstances!" Thunder opened her mouth in protest, only to be instantly interrupted by Hals growling. "And don't tell me that you don't rape people, because that's a pretty fucking low bar to clear!" He stood up and stamped in Thunders direction. She winced, but he ignored her and went to the refridgerator to retrieve a beer, which he proceeded to open with his bare hands, by flicking off the cover with his thumb. He took a big swig and sat back down again. "Do you hate me?" she asked after a while. Hal shrugged with his shoulders. "I think you're an irresponsible, unempathetic brat that wastes her life by picking pointless fights instead of using her talents to help others, but I don't hate you." He sighed. "You have felt, for once, what it's like to be on the side of the victim. I hope you remember it the next time you create one of your insane plans." --- I'd appreciate feedback. I kinda forget what I was going for or what I trying to say with this story somewhere in the middle. I also litterally translated some words from german, so if some of the things mentioned have a different english name, I'd like to know.	Grammer and punctuation be damned! She wasn't always my enemy. It wasn't long ago that we wondered this world together, pinky fingers locked in a hopeful but false promise of something permanent. The knock was frantic but familiar. "What's wrong with her?" "He found her." "How?" "It was a party you fuckin moron! He came from nowhere." Her tone darkened. "He knew" "So you came HERE?" "Yeah, I figured brtwern the two of us anx the pharmacy under your house we could fix this." The cold hit me as her words sunk in. " Well this is it then." "The fuck are you talking about? We NEED to get her downstairs!" It wouldn't matter. He had us both. He used our greatest weakness against us and it paid in full. The sky caught fire behond her,the whistle of the falling ordinance above us became clear. We embraced with our little one between us. For a single moment we were one once again The blast was silent, as our feud came to an end.
	[WP] The hero is enjoying a day off thanks to a rare quiet night in the city. That is until the villain shows up to her door, but carrying an unconscious woman and looking distraught. “I saved her from a party....I know this is weird, but I didn’t know who else to go to.”	Henrietta Lorral, eldest daughter -- yet, no longer the heir -- of the Duke of Gapfast County, sat in the poufed chair with a stiffness that suited her manner of life and bearing. She barely winced when her bruised hip accidentally brushed the hard chair arm at her side. "Are you listening Hettie darling?" "Of course, mama." She answered with a sweetness and interestedness that was entirely feigned. "I was just saying that tonight was such an extraordinary crush. What a coup for Lady Inar. Was it not?" Henrietta met her mother's piercing glance with a placid smile. "Yes, mama." With a huff her mother dropped in her own chair and flapped her hand fan off to the side in a dramatic flourish. "Oh Hettie! What am I to do with you? Not a single dance. Not a one. It does not signify for you are not so plain." "No." Henrietta easily agreed with the backhanded compliment. She was not so plain. It took an effort to affect such a boringness and plainness that allowed her the delight of not being under scrutiny. It took training. "Lo. Just when I was sure that Zulran officer was going to lead you out." Henrietta affected a whistful, but hopeless demeanor. She continued to meet her mother's worried gaze until finally her mother broke off the contact. "Where is Deborra with the hot compress? My feet are positively throbbing." Although they were high up on the third floor of the Manor, Henrietta turned her ear as she heard the faint jingle of the delivery bell. A delivery at such an hour? Henrietta stood, "Mama, I shall go find her for you." "Thank you darling." Henrietta swept out of the room with the proper speed until she shut the door to the parlour behind her. With no others around, she picked up speed, running fast and quietly down the hall to the hidden doorway that led down to the servant's stair. As she stepped closer and closer to the kitchen, she could hear the arguing of the Housekeeper and an unknown man. They spoke in hushed but terse tones and Henrietta could tell that Deborra was quick to lose her temper. "No I will not be telling my mistress. Get yer foot out of the doorway sir or I'll chop it off! I will!" In the kitchen it was a sight to be seen as the Housekeeper held her weight against the door and clutched one of the largest butcher knives in her hand. There, indeed, was a familiar black boot in attempt to push open the door. "Deborra, please let us open the door for our guest." "Miss!" Deborra caught her arrival finally and she released the door, stepping away. "He was trying to break down the door." "Mother is requiring her compress Deborra." With the door released, the man attached to that boot pushed it all the way through. Even in the glowing light of this warm kitchen, Niall Blackboot Tripps was dark and chiseled in a way that the Wanted paintings could get somewhat correct. Henrietta allowed no emotion to show on her face as she saw the very visage of her nemesis as he stepped into the light of the room and suddenly hefted a body over his shoulder. A child. A child that he gently placed down on the floorboards. A child that clutched a pale stuffed gryphon to her chest. Henrietta blinked. "Miss? I best not keep the Mistress waiting. Will you be safe here?" He shut and locked the door, replacing the wooden barricade. Never a nervous man, he peered around as if to find danger in any corner. "Yes. I will be perfectly fine. Do not mention this visit to mama." "Of course, miss." There was silence whilst Deborra collected the basket of goods to pamper her mother upstairs. Henrietta added into the basket a bottle of wine that was likely remains from her father's dinner. Deborra curtsied and scurried up the stairs with only just two glances back in concern. Bless her heart. In the absence of the Housekeeper, the tension in the room heightened. Yet, Henrietta held very still and just watched them. Niall and the child stood together in the room. The girl looked around with open curiosity. Henrietta could not help but compare her little features with the features of the man standing behind her. There was no match but there was something familiar about the girl. After a spell, Niall spoke. "I understand this is unseemly, but I have no choice. There is no one else I know who could protect her." "Protect who?" He nudged the girl in the shoulder, gently in the manner that her brother nudged his own daughter. The girl looked up to him to verify. "Tell her who you are." "The truth?" He nodded. The girl looked up at Henrietta and licked her lips. "I'm Caroline Ajanna Crown--" "--Princess of Asar." Henrietta could not help herself. Her knees actually swayed and she had to clutch onto a counter. Henrietta had a way with faces and sounds. She had always done so. Whispers sounded like conversation. Faces, even in disguise, unraveled their secrets to her. There was a reason the girl looked so familiar. She looked like her mother and father, the dead King and Queen of Asar. She looked like her older siblings had, before all of them had been sent off to Zulran holdings or perhaps enslaved for their magics. She looked like Annalise. Poor Annalise. "You see, I know you are the only one who can help me. She's been with me for four years now. She was three when Annalise dropped her at my door before the Zulrans took the capital." His face grew hard. "I wouldn't have to come to you for help if you hadn't shared the information of my hideout. She's not safe there. Anymore." To this news, Caroline's face skewed up in anger. "Why did you take me to her? She turned us in!" Henrietta straightened, her heart growing with the sadness of refreshed mourning and the resolution of righting a wrong she had no idea she had committed. "He came to me because I was a special friend of your sister Annalise. He knew I would protect you with my life."	Grammer and punctuation be damned! She wasn't always my enemy. It wasn't long ago that we wondered this world together, pinky fingers locked in a hopeful but false promise of something permanent. The knock was frantic but familiar. "What's wrong with her?" "He found her." "How?" "It was a party you fuckin moron! He came from nowhere." Her tone darkened. "He knew" "So you came HERE?" "Yeah, I figured brtwern the two of us anx the pharmacy under your house we could fix this." The cold hit me as her words sunk in. " Well this is it then." "The fuck are you talking about? We NEED to get her downstairs!" It wouldn't matter. He had us both. He used our greatest weakness against us and it paid in full. The sky caught fire behond her,the whistle of the falling ordinance above us became clear. We embraced with our little one between us. For a single moment we were one once again The blast was silent, as our feud came to an end.
	[WP] The hero is enjoying a day off thanks to a rare quiet night in the city. That is until the villain shows up to her door, but carrying an unconscious woman and looking distraught. “I saved her from a party....I know this is weird, but I didn’t know who else to go to.”	File this one under 'No good deed goes unpunished.' So, I was at home, enjoying what I expected to be a quiet night. Miserable March weather just with wintery wet is a friend to the super-heroine. When it rains cats and dogs, criminals stay indoors. Hot summer nights are my busiest time. The town is wall-to-wall assholes looking for trouble and victims and finding both. I had just gotten out of the bubble bath and was about halfway through that history of New Hollywood Johnny Noir recommended and was waiting for the kettle to boil for my chamomile tea. Of course my bell rang. I sighed and put my e-reader aside and looked wistfully at the plate of shortbread cookies by my cup. "One minute please," I said as I stepped into my panties and sweats simultaneously. "Leah, it's an emergency," the person outside shouted. I paused, both because of his urgency and because the voice was familiar but I couldn't place it. So, skip the brassiere and put on a T-Shirt with and open hoodie from my last medical school reunion. I looked through the door cam. Male, Caucasian with light hair plastered to his forehead. Height- five eleven, with skinny build- call it a buck fifty. Age- I'd say upper twenties. He wore a heavy dark single breasted overcoat. But it was the thin girl cradled in his arms that concerned me. Caucasian her dark hair was straight and lank as it hung loosely from her lolling head. I'd be surprised if she were old enough to drink legally. If this guy was tall and lean, the girl was short and painfully thin. The hospital said she wasn't even a C-note on the scale, even though she was 5'3''. But I am getting ahead of myself. I flung open the door and the man shoved his way into my foyer. He looked panicked- distraught and said as he stumbled to the nearest couch, “I saved her from a party....I know this is weird, but I didn’t know who else to go to.” And that's when I realized- seeing that dirty blonde hair and cockney accent… "PHASER!" I brought my fields up and focused my energy into my hands. "Listen, Aurora," he said, "can we not do the brawling nonsense… the girl…" I stopped my hand energy, but kept my shields up. "And how did you know…" "Where you live? Most of us know. Some bugger had the bright idea to keep a watch on your house. Plant a camera or something. But once you're out the door, 'VOOM!'" "Sounds like Solon." I considered the situation as he placed the girl on the couch. Underneath her shabby car coat she wore a black sparkly cocktail dress that was cut very high in front and with a skirt so short that it left little to the imagination. Her matching stilettos were scuffed- and I suspect them were responsible for the scrape on her right cheek. "I know you hate me…" "Phaser, I don't hate you. You vex me, but hate? No. You're a crook- a master thief, but you've never hurt anyone in any of your operations and never offered violence against anything besides a safe door or alarm system. Almost anyone else and you'd be spitting teeth." I lowered my shields and went to the girl. I turned over my shoulder and said, "Don't think I'm not keeping an eye on you." He was a slippery customer- literally. His ability to change into gas or liquid and his sticky fingers kept him high on the International Super Hero Organization's hit parade, even if the worst injury anyone suffered in his long crime spree was a twisted ankle while in hot pursuit. I checked the girl and my dislike for Phaser dissipated like he did in the Diamond District job last May. Her pulse was erratic and breathing shallow. "Tell me what happened and why take her to my doorstep and not an emergency room?" "I was at a loft party in Alston." He paused as if he said too much. I supposed he shrugged but I was seeing how the kid's eyes reacted to the light from my fingertips. "I was celebrating my latest job, I suppose you'll be reading about it in The Herald. Anyhow, the party was one of these underground things- not legal, not licensed, but usually good fun. DJ, fetish costumes, full bar, women…" Not my idea of a good time as you may surmise but I was not judging. But the sub rosa nature of the gathering may explain why he was unwilling to go about a mile further to the hospitals nearby. "So I was hitting on her, and we were drinking… She was having some kinda punch there. I had a couple of beers from the keg. Her name is Liz. Uh… There were other blokes there. I dunno. Maybe someone doctored her drink?" I mean she was taking something too…" He held out her purse. I poured out the contents: breath mints and a prescription bottle with the label removed. I opened the cap and groaned when I saw the rainbow within. It was a Physician's Desk Reference pharmacopeia pop quiz. At this point, thankfully, her eyes fluttered and she groaned. "Liz? Is that your name, honey?" She moaned affirmatively. "Can you tell me what's wrong?" "I go to Northeastern." "That's useful," Phaser said from my dining room. "Brad said he had some Chilli Willies… I met this cute guy. Older dude. I had some of the punch. They said there was grain in it." "Chilli Willies?" Phaser asked. "It's a street term for a Benzodiazepine. Kid mixed it with strong booze. Yeah, she's gonna be a mess." I stood up. "Honey, you lie there a while. I'm going to get my bag we'll get you better, OK?" Phaser was in front of the cupboard in my dining room admiring my silver collection. Indicating my menorah he said, "I didn't know you were Jewish." It's one of the joys of being mixed race. And yes, Cohen is not an uncommon surname among African-Americans. I had bigger worries than my heritage. I led him to where I kept my emergency medical kit. "She had benzos and booze- at a minimum. Bad combo." "What can it do?" You've seen the slurred speech and loss of consciousness, dizziness, drowsiness, and balance problems. Was she irritable or hostile?" "She snapped at some gal and she was a bit snarly about the music." "That scans. I'm worried that there can be additional respiratory and cardiovascular side effects with the two depressants. At least there hasn't been any…" Our noses wrinkled at the fecal smell. "Diarrhea." I sighed. At least it was a leather couch. "I'm going to stabilize her and call an ambulance. If you want to stay, fine. If you want to flee, I won't stop you. But if I find out you gave her those pills, then you are in a world of hurt. Capice?" He scoffed. "I don't need to slip a bint a Mickey Finn to shag her." He was conventionally good looking- like a young Robert Redford mixed with a young Sean Bean, though the results were a bit bland. Cute, but not really my type. I got on my cell to call 911 and kept vigil by the girl. He drove away before the ambulance arrived… in my car. He left his boosted ride in my driveway. That was not the only thing he stole. My menorah was gone and he took all the cookies from my plate and the box as well. The girl was underage- in fact a high schooler. She had been ordered by 'Brad' to pretend to be a college girl. Too bad for 'Brad' he worked out of Nashua, because now he is facing a Mann act bounce and serious Club Fed time. My car was recovered, with a full tank of gas, at Logan Airport two days later. I was detailing the encounter to a nice FBI agent and a Statie when the Fed gets a call. It turned out that Phaser had spent the three days before he came to my home conducting a brilliant data heist from MIT and three high tech companies. Solon compensated him very handsomely. The Silver Fencer theorized that he picked to girl up to keep me occupied so he could escape. I'm unsure if it gives him too much or too little credit. Either way I disagree. All my peers and I agreed that his swiping my menorah that I bought for twenty dollars at the Judaica store three blocks away was a crime of opportunity so he could brag to his crooked peers about the trophy. Flash forward six months later: ISHO regional summons me. Paragon is there. I'm surprised. He is kept busy enough in New York as is. "You have a package," he says. All packages get sent to regional to be scanned for safety. They opened it. Inside was a menorah. A beautiful menorah. A beautiful glass menorah. A beautiful Murano glass menorah from Venice. When the investigators tracked it to the source, the glassmakers cheerfully told them it was a custom order from a nice Englishman who paid fifteen thousand Euros. So now I have the ISHO internal affairs and the ethics board sweating me like I'm in a Turkish bath. I'm on probation and I am going to Mykonos. He's been spotted there with some fancy ladies he met in Rome and they've been living it up courtesy of his ill-gotten gains. I'm going to track him down. I am going to tell him that the girl is recovering well and getting the help she needs. I am going to tell him a very bad man is behind bars because of what he did. I am going to forgive him for my car and original menorah. Then I'm going to hit him so hard that his kids will be born dizzy!	"I saved her from a party....I know this is weird, but I didn't know who else to go to." "Somewhere else." She looked at the villain uninterested. "Type D. Quick." The hero turned around to look at the villain again, now interested. "Confirmed?" "Yeah." The villain replied reluctantly. "I'll take her. You can go now." She moved to carry the woman. "Woah... she is mine. If I go, she goes with me. " The villain protested. "Fine." She lead the villain into her lab. She carefully places the woman down and fasten her to the bed. The scan nearby picks up the vital signs of the unconscious woman and begin monitoring. Everything seems normal. The hero proceed to take some blood for confirmation. However, when she approach the woman with the needle, the unsconscious woman woke up and began growling agressively at her. "Told you she is a Type D." "Yeah yeah." The hero dismissed the villain and continued with the blood extraction. The blood glitters slightly in the syringe. This match the description of the type D. But this is the first time she has managed to obtain the live specimen of the virus. She is intriged. ABNORMALITY FOUND IN LEFT FOREARM. PLEASE CHECK. ABNORMALITY FOUND IN LEFT FOREARM. PLEASE CHECK. As she was observing, the monitor begin beeping, breaking the silence in the lab. The scan has found something in the left forearm of the stranger. It was a thin rectangle device inserted right under the skin. It was so thin that it was barely noticable. The hero cautiously removed it and observed. 'QTL' labelled right across the device. But it soon crumble once there was no blood flowing through it. Luckily, the scan would have a copy of the device. "Do you believe me now? I am not responsible for type D virus." The villain said, pointing to the sparkling blood. "Sure. You do not have such brains for this."
	[WP] The hero is enjoying a day off thanks to a rare quiet night in the city. That is until the villain shows up to her door, but carrying an unconscious woman and looking distraught. “I saved her from a party....I know this is weird, but I didn’t know who else to go to.”	It was odd. The last person I expected at my doorstep, especially on my coveted "hero's day of rest" I put aside for myself yearly, was Rax. He was cruel, he was brutal, he was deceitful... and yet, here he was with a young woman lying helplessly in his arms. "I understand this is odd," he begins after a few moments silence, "but you must help me. I rescued her from a party, and you were the only person I could think of who could assist." I take the girl whose current complexion can only be described as ghostly, and lay her on the couch. "Who is she? Why does she have any significance?" After some hesitation, Rax spoke. "She's a... ^(love interest.)" I figured I had heard him correctly, but he mumbled under his own breath in such a way that he thought he was discreet enough. "I'm sorry, can you repeat that?" "^(A love interest.)" "One more time?" "A love interest, okay, Arch? Please, help." There was a toxic sound and thick viscosity to his words that can only be described as vitriolic, so I figured continuing to press him would end badly. "Alright, alright, okay. What is the issue?" "Some form of toxin in her system. I'm unaware of which. I saw someone slip a pill. He's been... dealt with." He'd killed another man, but this time it was not in pure evil. It was in prevention. A hopeful latch onto something that he had known was a lost cause. "I... was too late, however. She'd already taken a drink, and had passed out shortly after a fit of nausea and vomiting. I expect it to be something no less of cyanide, unfortunately," Rax said, with an innate sense of dread pouring from his words. "I have already attempted to do any basic first-aid, and have attempted casting some of the healing spells I've used in our altercations, Arch, but to no avail did they succeed. I even attempted the one I used to take toxins out of my own system." After some looking, testing for basic vitals and doing some of my own tests, my heart sank. A woman I had not known even existed until now had somehow entered my frontal my lobe in the form of a splinter. "Rax, have you, uh... tried that revival spell that you used to heal Siel in that battle?" I have seen many things in my time as a hero for the planet. There are things that no man should want to ever see, and things that no man will ever see. When I tell you, then, that there is no worse sight than to see a man of capable of the cruelty such as locking someone inside an explosive the equivalent to 5 Hiroshima explosions have an expression of pure horror, pure sorrow, and pure regret, take my word for it that it can and will break the soul of any being with coherent thoughts in the matter of a second. "No... no, don't say that. Please, do not say that. I... no, no I refuse there's - there's another way, I-" The man's hands began to glow green. He was conjuring a healing spell of some form. "No, I'll fix this! Everything will-" A flash of green light came from the woman as he attempted to heal her. "Everything is going to be okay, I promise! I'm going to fix it-" Another flash of light, to no avail. "I'll fix it, please! I promise..." The man dropped to his knees and ended his attempts to heal the woman. He began to sob, and he fell to the floor in the fetal position. In an attempt to problem solve, hopefully, I spoke up, "...What about the revival spell I mentioned earlier...?" It took a minute for him to answer. His voice now conveyed a sense of how broken he was, now. A voice usually booming with confidence in every aspect had now become quiet, raspy, and soft. "...It wouldn't work... the revival spell only works on those who had an artificial power source, such as magic... biological specimens such as humans would return as the undead..." I began to problem solve more. If his healing spell can remove toxins, then the only thing preventing life is basic homeostasis. Something is preventing her body from returning life. "...Rax, what if we did something crazy for a change, just this once?" The man did not lift his head up, and did not change the position of his body, but his eyes darted in my direction as a sign of interest. "...I'm listening." "I have electricity, hence my name, Arch. Correct?" "...Yes, I suppose so." "So, what if you used your healing spell, and I focused my electricity to her chest region?" "...Are you attempting what I believe you are?" I give a smirk across my face. The man's eyes light up, and he springs to his feet almost as fast as he fell. "Please, let this work." With a flash of green, blue, and white, Rax focused his healing on her and I shocked the daylights out of her being. We repeated this process some 10, 20, possibly 30 times. Just as all hope was lost, a sound was heard. Breathing. Was it breathing? Yes, it definitely had to have been - no other sound in the area sounds like it, even with the wind blowing. As I look to my right, where Rax was standing, his eyes light up further as hope begins to build up. \------------ Two weeks went by. I kept the girl in my house, on the couch, to monitor her. She had begun breathing, but was still very frail and hadn't regained consciousness. Rax had not performed any actions as per usual, which is both depressing and a great change of pace for him. He stops at the house again, as he had been every day for the past two weeks. "Hello, Arch. Lovely day it is, today. A warm 78 and not a cloud in the sky." He had been in this melancholy sense of glee since our attempt at reviving. I let him in, and we ate for a bit together. Then, it happened. The woman began to wake up. She slowly sat up. "W...what happened? ...Jeb? Where am I?" Rax immediately ran to the couch, in tears. No words were exchanged between the two for five minutes. Despite it being my own home, I left the two of them alone for a bit. \------------ It's been a month since all of that incident went down. Since then, Jeb - I mean Rax - hadn't been doing any evil. I've become a very good friend of his, actually. I believe this may have changed him for the good. I don't know what happened in full detail, that fine day. What I do know, however, is that you don't know what it is you have until you lose it. I stick by this motto, and hopefully Rax does too.	"I saved her from a party....I know this is weird, but I didn't know who else to go to." "Somewhere else." She looked at the villain uninterested. "Type D. Quick." The hero turned around to look at the villain again, now interested. "Confirmed?" "Yeah." The villain replied reluctantly. "I'll take her. You can go now." She moved to carry the woman. "Woah... she is mine. If I go, she goes with me. " The villain protested. "Fine." She lead the villain into her lab. She carefully places the woman down and fasten her to the bed. The scan nearby picks up the vital signs of the unconscious woman and begin monitoring. Everything seems normal. The hero proceed to take some blood for confirmation. However, when she approach the woman with the needle, the unsconscious woman woke up and began growling agressively at her. "Told you she is a Type D." "Yeah yeah." The hero dismissed the villain and continued with the blood extraction. The blood glitters slightly in the syringe. This match the description of the type D. But this is the first time she has managed to obtain the live specimen of the virus. She is intriged. ABNORMALITY FOUND IN LEFT FOREARM. PLEASE CHECK. ABNORMALITY FOUND IN LEFT FOREARM. PLEASE CHECK. As she was observing, the monitor begin beeping, breaking the silence in the lab. The scan has found something in the left forearm of the stranger. It was a thin rectangle device inserted right under the skin. It was so thin that it was barely noticable. The hero cautiously removed it and observed. 'QTL' labelled right across the device. But it soon crumble once there was no blood flowing through it. Luckily, the scan would have a copy of the device. "Do you believe me now? I am not responsible for type D virus." The villain said, pointing to the sparkling blood. "Sure. You do not have such brains for this."
	[WP] The hero is enjoying a day off thanks to a rare quiet night in the city. That is until the villain shows up to her door, but carrying an unconscious woman and looking distraught. “I saved her from a party....I know this is weird, but I didn’t know who else to go to.”	It was odd. The last person I expected at my doorstep, especially on my coveted "hero's day of rest" I put aside for myself yearly, was Rax. He was cruel, he was brutal, he was deceitful... and yet, here he was with a young woman lying helplessly in his arms. "I understand this is odd," he begins after a few moments silence, "but you must help me. I rescued her from a party, and you were the only person I could think of who could assist." I take the girl whose current complexion can only be described as ghostly, and lay her on the couch. "Who is she? Why does she have any significance?" After some hesitation, Rax spoke. "She's a... ^(love interest.)" I figured I had heard him correctly, but he mumbled under his own breath in such a way that he thought he was discreet enough. "I'm sorry, can you repeat that?" "^(A love interest.)" "One more time?" "A love interest, okay, Arch? Please, help." There was a toxic sound and thick viscosity to his words that can only be described as vitriolic, so I figured continuing to press him would end badly. "Alright, alright, okay. What is the issue?" "Some form of toxin in her system. I'm unaware of which. I saw someone slip a pill. He's been... dealt with." He'd killed another man, but this time it was not in pure evil. It was in prevention. A hopeful latch onto something that he had known was a lost cause. "I... was too late, however. She'd already taken a drink, and had passed out shortly after a fit of nausea and vomiting. I expect it to be something no less of cyanide, unfortunately," Rax said, with an innate sense of dread pouring from his words. "I have already attempted to do any basic first-aid, and have attempted casting some of the healing spells I've used in our altercations, Arch, but to no avail did they succeed. I even attempted the one I used to take toxins out of my own system." After some looking, testing for basic vitals and doing some of my own tests, my heart sank. A woman I had not known even existed until now had somehow entered my frontal my lobe in the form of a splinter. "Rax, have you, uh... tried that revival spell that you used to heal Siel in that battle?" I have seen many things in my time as a hero for the planet. There are things that no man should want to ever see, and things that no man will ever see. When I tell you, then, that there is no worse sight than to see a man of capable of the cruelty such as locking someone inside an explosive the equivalent to 5 Hiroshima explosions have an expression of pure horror, pure sorrow, and pure regret, take my word for it that it can and will break the soul of any being with coherent thoughts in the matter of a second. "No... no, don't say that. Please, do not say that. I... no, no I refuse there's - there's another way, I-" The man's hands began to glow green. He was conjuring a healing spell of some form. "No, I'll fix this! Everything will-" A flash of green light came from the woman as he attempted to heal her. "Everything is going to be okay, I promise! I'm going to fix it-" Another flash of light, to no avail. "I'll fix it, please! I promise..." The man dropped to his knees and ended his attempts to heal the woman. He began to sob, and he fell to the floor in the fetal position. In an attempt to problem solve, hopefully, I spoke up, "...What about the revival spell I mentioned earlier...?" It took a minute for him to answer. His voice now conveyed a sense of how broken he was, now. A voice usually booming with confidence in every aspect had now become quiet, raspy, and soft. "...It wouldn't work... the revival spell only works on those who had an artificial power source, such as magic... biological specimens such as humans would return as the undead..." I began to problem solve more. If his healing spell can remove toxins, then the only thing preventing life is basic homeostasis. Something is preventing her body from returning life. "...Rax, what if we did something crazy for a change, just this once?" The man did not lift his head up, and did not change the position of his body, but his eyes darted in my direction as a sign of interest. "...I'm listening." "I have electricity, hence my name, Arch. Correct?" "...Yes, I suppose so." "So, what if you used your healing spell, and I focused my electricity to her chest region?" "...Are you attempting what I believe you are?" I give a smirk across my face. The man's eyes light up, and he springs to his feet almost as fast as he fell. "Please, let this work." With a flash of green, blue, and white, Rax focused his healing on her and I shocked the daylights out of her being. We repeated this process some 10, 20, possibly 30 times. Just as all hope was lost, a sound was heard. Breathing. Was it breathing? Yes, it definitely had to have been - no other sound in the area sounds like it, even with the wind blowing. As I look to my right, where Rax was standing, his eyes light up further as hope begins to build up. \------------ Two weeks went by. I kept the girl in my house, on the couch, to monitor her. She had begun breathing, but was still very frail and hadn't regained consciousness. Rax had not performed any actions as per usual, which is both depressing and a great change of pace for him. He stops at the house again, as he had been every day for the past two weeks. "Hello, Arch. Lovely day it is, today. A warm 78 and not a cloud in the sky." He had been in this melancholy sense of glee since our attempt at reviving. I let him in, and we ate for a bit together. Then, it happened. The woman began to wake up. She slowly sat up. "W...what happened? ...Jeb? Where am I?" Rax immediately ran to the couch, in tears. No words were exchanged between the two for five minutes. Despite it being my own home, I left the two of them alone for a bit. \------------ It's been a month since all of that incident went down. Since then, Jeb - I mean Rax - hadn't been doing any evil. I've become a very good friend of his, actually. I believe this may have changed him for the good. I don't know what happened in full detail, that fine day. What I do know, however, is that you don't know what it is you have until you lose it. I stick by this motto, and hopefully Rax does too.	Sitting on the balcony rail, I survey the city below. It is very beautiful, especially at night, and I rarely get to enjoy the view. But tonight, the criminal element seems to have taken a collective break, and for that I'm grateful. Being a super heroine is an amazing job, but it can be a bit tiring. So, I lean back, and take in a deep breath of the night air, and savor. I can't remember the last time since I got to enjoy an eveni... Knock. Who the heck would be here, at this time of night? I doubt it's anything crucial. They'll just think I'm not home. Yeah, let's go with that. I want to enjoy my night off. Knock! Oh come on, really? I scowl into the night sky, clouds lazily floating past. "One night of peace was too much to ask huh?" Knock! Knock! "All right, all right, I'm coming!" Stomping inside, past the couch, with Willis, my black tomcat, giving me the 'napping, go away' look. I scowl at him too. "Sorry to disturb your fiftieth nap. I'll try and keep it down," I sputter, every word dripping with snark. Knock! Knock! Knock! The knocking is escalating to a pounding now. Concerned for my door, I open it without undoing the chain. "What do you want?!?! You have any idea what time it is?!?" Into the room, barging past me, breaking the security chain and nearly knocking me over, is Raven. My arch nemesis. And he's carrying someone, an unconscious woman by the looks of it. He hardly seems to notice my existence now that he is in the apartment. He practically glides to the couch and rather unceremoniously drops his captive onto it, sending Willis careening off to my bedroom. Turning, Raven has barely anytime to react before my punch lands, and he stumbles into the wall, barely catching himself. I'm about to land a second, more powerful blow before he stares me in the eyes, with his hands raised, and slurs out, "Wait! I need your help!" Confusion, and possibly curiousity, stay my hand, and I let him stand up. "Alright then, why the hell are you in my home Raven?!? How did you even know where I live is an even better question." Hands still raised placatingly, he replies, "All in good time, but first you have to help her." With this he raises a taloned finger toward the comatose woman. "I was scouting a local bank, for research, and found this girl, unconscious and abandoned in the alley. I believe her to be drugged or something of the like, so fix her." "Why? Why do you care what happens to her? Not exactly ever been in your wheelhouse to be a rescuer of women?" "Perhaps not, but I was compelled to help. An act of my wizened conscience possibly, but it is neither here nor there. You're the hero here, so save her day. As for me, I think I will be going now." With this, he starts to leave. I snatch at the collar of his cape before he gets too far, and whip him around. "You go nowhere till you tell me what's going on here. You owe me that, after barging in with no explanation. Also, you're a villain, remember. You don't just get to turn that part off and visit the abodes of the local heroes." Raven, still being held by the collar might I add, snarls out, " I couldn't leave her there, ok? I may be a bad guy, but I've got a heart too. She looked so alone." I thought I heard some emotion in that last statement. She must have really struck a cord. "I'll help her, but then afterwards you turn yourself in. Deal?" "You would help her either way, so it's not much of a threat. But fine, deal." With Raven's collar still in hand, I scoop up the girl and fly them all to the nearest hospital. Im careful not to swing him into any passing buildings. Most of them anyway. Arriving, the girl is rushed to the ER, and by now I have let go of Raven. He looks relieved, though it's hard to tell with the cowl. I turn to give him a minute to collect himself before I take him in, but here a shuffle. Turning, he's gone. Left behind is a note. Cute. Hmph. I snatch up the paper, and read, "Tell her goodbye for me."
	[WP] The hero is enjoying a day off thanks to a rare quiet night in the city. That is until the villain shows up to her door, but carrying an unconscious woman and looking distraught. “I saved her from a party....I know this is weird, but I didn’t know who else to go to.”	Henrietta Lorral, eldest daughter -- yet, no longer the heir -- of the Duke of Gapfast County, sat in the poufed chair with a stiffness that suited her manner of life and bearing. She barely winced when her bruised hip accidentally brushed the hard chair arm at her side. "Are you listening Hettie darling?" "Of course, mama." She answered with a sweetness and interestedness that was entirely feigned. "I was just saying that tonight was such an extraordinary crush. What a coup for Lady Inar. Was it not?" Henrietta met her mother's piercing glance with a placid smile. "Yes, mama." With a huff her mother dropped in her own chair and flapped her hand fan off to the side in a dramatic flourish. "Oh Hettie! What am I to do with you? Not a single dance. Not a one. It does not signify for you are not so plain." "No." Henrietta easily agreed with the backhanded compliment. She was not so plain. It took an effort to affect such a boringness and plainness that allowed her the delight of not being under scrutiny. It took training. "Lo. Just when I was sure that Zulran officer was going to lead you out." Henrietta affected a whistful, but hopeless demeanor. She continued to meet her mother's worried gaze until finally her mother broke off the contact. "Where is Deborra with the hot compress? My feet are positively throbbing." Although they were high up on the third floor of the Manor, Henrietta turned her ear as she heard the faint jingle of the delivery bell. A delivery at such an hour? Henrietta stood, "Mama, I shall go find her for you." "Thank you darling." Henrietta swept out of the room with the proper speed until she shut the door to the parlour behind her. With no others around, she picked up speed, running fast and quietly down the hall to the hidden doorway that led down to the servant's stair. As she stepped closer and closer to the kitchen, she could hear the arguing of the Housekeeper and an unknown man. They spoke in hushed but terse tones and Henrietta could tell that Deborra was quick to lose her temper. "No I will not be telling my mistress. Get yer foot out of the doorway sir or I'll chop it off! I will!" In the kitchen it was a sight to be seen as the Housekeeper held her weight against the door and clutched one of the largest butcher knives in her hand. There, indeed, was a familiar black boot in attempt to push open the door. "Deborra, please let us open the door for our guest." "Miss!" Deborra caught her arrival finally and she released the door, stepping away. "He was trying to break down the door." "Mother is requiring her compress Deborra." With the door released, the man attached to that boot pushed it all the way through. Even in the glowing light of this warm kitchen, Niall Blackboot Tripps was dark and chiseled in a way that the Wanted paintings could get somewhat correct. Henrietta allowed no emotion to show on her face as she saw the very visage of her nemesis as he stepped into the light of the room and suddenly hefted a body over his shoulder. A child. A child that he gently placed down on the floorboards. A child that clutched a pale stuffed gryphon to her chest. Henrietta blinked. "Miss? I best not keep the Mistress waiting. Will you be safe here?" He shut and locked the door, replacing the wooden barricade. Never a nervous man, he peered around as if to find danger in any corner. "Yes. I will be perfectly fine. Do not mention this visit to mama." "Of course, miss." There was silence whilst Deborra collected the basket of goods to pamper her mother upstairs. Henrietta added into the basket a bottle of wine that was likely remains from her father's dinner. Deborra curtsied and scurried up the stairs with only just two glances back in concern. Bless her heart. In the absence of the Housekeeper, the tension in the room heightened. Yet, Henrietta held very still and just watched them. Niall and the child stood together in the room. The girl looked around with open curiosity. Henrietta could not help but compare her little features with the features of the man standing behind her. There was no match but there was something familiar about the girl. After a spell, Niall spoke. "I understand this is unseemly, but I have no choice. There is no one else I know who could protect her." "Protect who?" He nudged the girl in the shoulder, gently in the manner that her brother nudged his own daughter. The girl looked up to him to verify. "Tell her who you are." "The truth?" He nodded. The girl looked up at Henrietta and licked her lips. "I'm Caroline Ajanna Crown--" "--Princess of Asar." Henrietta could not help herself. Her knees actually swayed and she had to clutch onto a counter. Henrietta had a way with faces and sounds. She had always done so. Whispers sounded like conversation. Faces, even in disguise, unraveled their secrets to her. There was a reason the girl looked so familiar. She looked like her mother and father, the dead King and Queen of Asar. She looked like her older siblings had, before all of them had been sent off to Zulran holdings or perhaps enslaved for their magics. She looked like Annalise. Poor Annalise. "You see, I know you are the only one who can help me. She's been with me for four years now. She was three when Annalise dropped her at my door before the Zulrans took the capital." His face grew hard. "I wouldn't have to come to you for help if you hadn't shared the information of my hideout. She's not safe there. Anymore." To this news, Caroline's face skewed up in anger. "Why did you take me to her? She turned us in!" Henrietta straightened, her heart growing with the sadness of refreshed mourning and the resolution of righting a wrong she had no idea she had committed. "He came to me because I was a special friend of your sister Annalise. He knew I would protect you with my life."	Harold "the Grim" Baker opened the door of his small apartment and took in the sight of his visitor. His first instinct was to attack, but you didn't stay a hero for very long by acting on instincts. Instead, he stood still, taking a few seconds to evaluate the situation. Thunder, the infamous tinker-villainess he had fought many times in the past, was not wearing the powered armor she was known for, nor was she carrying any visible weapons. What she was carrying was an motionless woman with colorful, but torn clothing and quite a few scratches on her arms and legs. Hal sighed silently, took a step to the side to allow his enemy to enter, and grumbled: "Come in." "I know what it looks like, but please, you have to help me..." she said, sounding desperate, before her brain caught up to her ears. "Wait, what?" "You wanna come in or not? It's gonna get cold in here if I keep the door open too long." Surprised by this turn of events, she stumbled a few steps forward, and shot a few distracted glances over the apartment. It wasn't anything special - one big room, that served as a kitchen, dining room and living room, with two partly opened doors that led to a bathroom and a sleeping room, respectively. The couch standing in the living room looked old and worn out, but comfortable, and the television was small and outdated. The walls were lined with pictures of Harold with various lineups of other heroes. The other heroes all showed their most charming smiles, but Hal was frowning without exception. Thunder only had a few seconds to take in all of this before Hal had carefully closed the door and pushed her forwards, causing her to stumple another few steps. "Don't just stand there like a deer in the headlights! Lay down your friend on the couch and sit down." He gestured towards his sofa and the cheap wooden chairs standing around his dining table. "She isn't my friend! I barely know her!" the villainess protested weakly, but still mechanically obeyed his orders. She laid the woman down as gentle as she managed with her arms hurting from the excertion of carrying somebody this long, before she sat down on in front of the table. Hal knelt down in front of his patient. Her heartbeat and breathing were periodic and had an acceptable frequency, but she was clearly not responsive. Her breath and clothing smelled of alcohol, but the drug didn't seem like the cause of her uncounsciousness. She seemed to have been knocked out, as indicated by the big bump on her forehead. He brought her in the stable lateral position and went over to the refrigerator to get a cool pack for her head. "Can you call an ambulance? She should be looked over by actual doctors." he asked Thunder. She nodded silently, clearly more composed than she had been a few minutes ago. When they both were finished with their tasks, Hal sat down on the only unused chair in the room, on the opposite side of the table as Thunder, and leaned back. "Now tell me what happened. The whole story, from the beginning, please." he told the villainess while watching her carefully. She wore a blue jeans and a while t-shirt - awefully conventional clothing for a person that had at times held whole cities hostage. Her arms had quite a few bruises and scrapes, and her short blue hair was in utter disarray. She seemed to be exhaused, which was totally understandable as didn't look particulary strong without her powered armor. Thunder shot him a hopeful look. "And when my story satisfies you, you'll let me go?" Hal grunted. "Hell no. Whatever nice thing you did today sure ain't enough to atone for all the shit you pulled over the years. I might show up at your process and say something nice about you tho." Thunders shoulders slumped down, and she looked defeated for a few seconds, before she sighed. "I guess that's only fair. So, the story. I was in my hideout, working on a few new gadgets, but after a few weeks I couldn't take the loneliness any more. You know how it is when you are hiding, with nobody to talk to and nothing new to do, and you can't leave because out there people will attack you on sight?" Harold showed something that might have been an amused smirk for the fraction of a seconds, before his usual grumpiness returned. "I don't. I ain't no criminal, as you might remember." "Anyways, I really needed human interaction, but I wasn't out for a fight. So I tought it would be a good idea to go to a party, just for one night. I thought my chances of not getting caught were pretty good." "You went into the public without any weapons? That's pretty brave." She sighed. "It was stupid, that's what it was. So, I was at this party, and there were a bunch of guys pressuring her." Thunder nodded in the direction of the couch. "She wanted them to leave, but they couldn't take 'no' for an answer. I tried to help her, but well, I'm not much of a fighter without my tools. When she wanted to go home, I offered to accompany her, for security." Hal nooded slightly. "They followed you?" "Yes. Ambushed us, my new acquaintance got knocked out, and I was alone, facing half a dozen guys stronger than me." She laughed bitterly. "What a great villain I am, right? Loosing against a bunch of common thugs." Harold looked at her, face serious. "What happened then?" "I ran away. I got lucky and managed to put some distance between me and them. But I had nowhere safe to go in this area, until I remembered that you live around here. So I came here, to hide from those guys. Thanks for saving my life, by the way." She sounded genuinly grateful. Harold shrugged with his shoulders. "It's my job, ain't it?" "I guess it is. Just like it is your job to arrest me. And you're really sure you can't let me go, just this one time? I stuck out my head to save somebody, you know. I got beat up by people I had no chance of defeating. I was a hero, for once." the villainess pleaded. The aging crimefighter sighed and looked down. "I'm grateful for what you did, I really am. I wished I'd have captured you under other circumstances, while you were being cruel and arrogant, instead of... this." He gestured in her general direction and sighed again. "But in the end of the day, what you did today is what I do every day, since decades. I go out there, risking my health and life to protect innocent people." He gestured towards his impressive muscles. "I'm no particulary strong hero, you know. Minor super strength and durability. Most villains I meet are superior to me, and all I can do is distracting them or trying to shield others. You should really understand that, considering how many times you punched me around." A tiny spark of anger slipped into his eyes, causing Thunder to slide her chair back a little. "On every other day, that story of yours would have you as the bully, me as the guy sticking out his head to save an innocent woman, and she" - he nodded to the direction of the couch - "might as well have become your victim had she met you under other circumstances!" Thunder opened her mouth in protest, only to be instantly interrupted by Hals growling. "And don't tell me that you don't rape people, because that's a pretty fucking low bar to clear!" He stood up and stamped in Thunders direction. She winced, but he ignored her and went to the refridgerator to retrieve a beer, which he proceeded to open with his bare hands, by flicking off the cover with his thumb. He took a big swig and sat back down again. "Do you hate me?" she asked after a while. Hal shrugged with his shoulders. "I think you're an irresponsible, unempathetic brat that wastes her life by picking pointless fights instead of using her talents to help others, but I don't hate you." He sighed. "You have felt, for once, what it's like to be on the side of the victim. I hope you remember it the next time you create one of your insane plans." --- I'd appreciate feedback. I kinda forget what I was going for or what I trying to say with this story somewhere in the middle. I also litterally translated some words from german, so if some of the things mentioned have a different english name, I'd like to know.
	[WP] The hero is enjoying a day off thanks to a rare quiet night in the city. That is until the villain shows up to her door, but carrying an unconscious woman and looking distraught. “I saved her from a party....I know this is weird, but I didn’t know who else to go to.”	“So quiet tonight. No alerts and it’s almost one a.m.,” she said out loud to herself as she looked at the large screen of her alert system. For Sierra Pierce, Los Angeles’ hero who everyone named Silver after her eye color, it was strange to see a lack of crime on any given night. She was fast, agile and skilled in various martial arts. The citizens compared her moves to that of a cat. She switched off the screen and walked to her kitchen and pulled out a bottle of wine from the refrigerator. “Might as well enjoy the night.” She poured herself a glass and slumped on a couch with music playing in the background and a book in her hand. Not a minute had passed since she began reading the book when her doorbell rang. She placed the glass and the book down on the table and walked to the door. She got into a defensive stance when she saw Sparks, the city’s most well-known villain. He was called so because he always created new electronic devices to disrupt the peace in the city. She turned angry as she saw the unconscious woman in his hands. “What did you do to her, Sparks?” “I saved her from a party…” He stepped back. “I know this is weird but I didn't know who else to go to.” “Maybe a hospital, Sparks.” She helped him take the woman inside and lay her down on her couch. “What were you thinking when you brought her here? We should get her to a doctor.” “No. See, she was at a party involving a lot of illegal drugs. She would get sent to prison if the hospital finds out she had been consuming them.” He looked at her helplessly. “Which one?” She checked her pulse and temperature. “Buzz 2.0. The new one on the market.” “Her pulse and temperature seems normal. What about the others?” She sat down on a couch. “They seemed alright. As a villain, I cannot call the cops on them. You know that.” “Why come to me?” “Because I know you are a chemist.” He rubbed his neck nervously. “How do you know that? An assumption?” Her tone was almost mocking. “I followed you yesterday. From early morning four when you were battling Hammer up till an hour ago. I noticed her collapse in the backyard of the house where the party was going on as I was having dinner on top of the building opposite yours.” He took a few steps back as she got up abruptly. “How dare you!” “I’m so sorry, Silver. Please see if you can help her.” The woman groaning as she gained consciousness made them stop arguing. They turned around to see her sit up and stretch as if she had been sleeping. She stood up slowly. She froze when she turned around and saw Sparks with a woman she could not recognize. “Where am I?” “You’re alright?” Sparks took a step towards her. She stepped back in fear. “Y...Yes.” She tripped and fell back on a couch. Her eyes widened when she spotted Silver’s mask on the coffee table. “What did you do with Silver?” “Nothing. I am alright.” Sierra approached her and extended a hand towards her. “I am Silver.” The woman went quiet as she observed Sierra’s silvery eyes. “You two are friends?” “No. He brought you here when you got knocked out at the party. This is my apartment.” “But isn't he the bad guy?” She looked quizzically at Sparks who sat on a couch beside the one she sat on. “Uh... I did save you. I only like to have fun with my devices on the streets of LA. I don’t mean to harm anyone.” Silver placed a hand on his shoulder. “He might even be a hero for all I know. He is harmless despite the random acts of vandalism every night.” His phone rang. He picked it up and walked to a corner of the room. When he finished the call, he walked up to Silver. “Can you drop her at her home? I have a job to do.” “I was hoping you wouldn't go off to vandalize something so soon.” Silver sounded disappointed. “Who said I was going for a job as Sparks? I am on-call and there is a patient, a child, who was brought in unconscious after tripping down a staircase.” He pocketed his phone. “You are a doctor?” The woman was surprised. “A paediatrician. Electronics is a hobby.” He walked to the door and turned around and smiled at the two women. “Duty calls, ladies. See you around, Silver.” A hero by day. A villain by night.	“So we meet again -” “Move, this is isn’t a joke.” I observed my arch nemesis carefully laying down a woman on the floor. I silently pull out a minuscule dagger I kept at all time in my sleeve. She wasn’t going to get away with it. “Are you framing me ?” “Framing you ?” She turned, still kneeling down, only to find herself in front of my glorious weapon. “Oh put that away, this is ridiculous. Is this really how you look like suit less ? That’s really disappointing,” she added, looking at me up and down. I sat down on the nearest chair, still pointing my blade toward her, and took a spit of my beer. “Kimono are in season,” I threw on a defying tone. “You don’t look great either. Now give me one reason not to kill you right now.” “I need your help.” I burst out loud. “Do you know who needed help ? Those poor employees of the bank you robed not later than this morning. There’s no way I’m helping you.” I watched her as she gently whips some blood off of the woman’s face. “This is my wife,” she muttered in a broken voice. “And I’ll have you know I’ve never hurt anyone, I’m just stealing, there’s nothing wrong with stealing from the powerful. Last time I checked, capitalism was the bad guy.” I frowned, surprised of this answer. “Your wife ?” “You have a problem with that ?” she exclaimed, throwing a dark look at me. “Well no, I mean… I have nothing against… Well… You looked straight... But…” “Shut up and help me.” A few tears had rolled down her face. I resigned to get up from my seat, and knelt next to her. “What happened ?” “We were at a party, and I went to the bathroom for less than two minutes. When I came back, she wasn’t there anymore. I looked everywhere for her, and I finally found her curled in the corner of the garden, unconscious and covered in blood. I don’t what happened.” “And why not going to a hospital ?” “Right, so the police can come get me as soon as I stepped foot there.” I pushed my finger against her neck. “She has a pulse. Are you sure she completely unconscious when you find her ?” “She awoke from time to time as we got here.” I got up and clapped my hands. “Well then it’s settled. She got into a fight and probably received a punch on the head. She’ll be fully conscious in a few minutes.” She gave me an unconvinced look. I sighed. “I’m not a doctor, alright ? Look, you can spend the night here if it reassure you.” I yawned. “I’m going to hit the bed, big day tomorrow of fighting crime and spreading justice.” “Are you really letting me sleep here ? Are you dumb ? What makes you so sure I won’t kill you in your sleep ?” I raised my brows. “Dressed like that I highly doubt it. Good night sleep tight don't let the bedbugs bite.” Iron Marx found herself alone in Super Offshore’s living room. She patted her wife’s shoulder. “Did he buy it ?” she whispered, her eyes still closed. Iron Marx smirked. “Yes he did. What an idiot.”
	[WP] The hero is enjoying a day off thanks to a rare quiet night in the city. That is until the villain shows up to her door, but carrying an unconscious woman and looking distraught. “I saved her from a party....I know this is weird, but I didn’t know who else to go to.”	He stood there with rain dripping from the rim of his baseball cap. The hand on her gun tightened. “What the hell?” “I don’t need to stay. Just take her and I’ll leave.” He shuffled under the weight of the woman’s body. Water dripped through the flimsy jean jacket covering her torso. If it wasn’t for the uncanny echo of desperation in his eyes she would have shot him in the face. His cheeks were flushed with effort. “Drop her and back away from the door.” The words rolled from between clenched teeth. He glanced at the puddle on the doorstep, “But the wate—“ “—Do it or take her somewhere else.” She drew her firearm but kept it pointed at the ground as a threat. Panic surged through his face and he laid the woman down gently on the porch. His hands remained clear when he lifted them in surrender. “Please, I swear this isn’t a trick.” “Just keep your hands high.” She bent over and gingerly patted the woman down. With her gun she motioned him to lean against the wall as she checked for weapons. He was clean. ***** “Why the hell didn’t you just drop her off at a police station?” By now they’d carried the woman to bed and she was safely tucked away in the guest room. She had him sit in the farthest armchair of the living room while she watched. Her gun lay beside her on the side table. “Believe it or not I don’t trust cops to keep their hands to themselves.” He leaned forward and put his head in his palms. “Look... It’s been a rough night. Just let me go home.” “Tell me what happened first.” He scowled at her. “Is this to delay me for something? If I dare hear a police siren—“ “—You’ll what? Run?” Her hand hovered threateningly over the weapon again. He flinched at the motion. “Asshole.” The anger in his face deepened, “I certainly won’t be around to help girls at parties anymore if I’m in prison.” She sighed. “Nobody’s coming.” Her hand returned to a place of neutrality, “Just tell me what happened.” A heavy breath soothed him as he laid back and stared up at the ceiling. “What is there to tell? Don’t pretend you can’t already guess what I pulled her from.” His hand tightened around the armchair. “Obviously you expect to hear the story of drunken rape? Roofied drinks between backroom gang bangs? By now that narrative of rape is practically a cultural icon. There are no surprises in human depravity anymore.” Her eyes widened. “Was she abused like that?” “—No! No. I got her out of there in time.” “What about the perpetrator?” “What about him?” “Did you deal with him?” He raised his eyebrows at her, “What? Was I supposed to beat him up in some back alley? Roundhouse kick him while carting a full grown woman in my arms?” “Ah.” She looked at him with an awkward silence, “I suppose not.” This was the fourth time they had ever been in the same room together. She had never noticed it during those long, caffeine driven interrogations but his eyes seemed to betray a softness. He was more weathered than she remembered. “Want to go hunt him down? Bring him in?” Her tone changed as she said it. “Then what? Dismiss him for lack of evidence?” He scowled again, “—No thanks.” She shifted uncomfortably in her seat and returned her hand to its position over the gun. “Maybe...” She hesitated and looked between him and the firearm, “—Maybe... we could try things your way?” “Assassination? Are you crazy?” “No! No! I just mean rough him up a little.” He smirked and was already reaching for his soaked jean jacket. “Really. I don’t know where you got the idea that I engage in such violence.” The little chuckle he gave betrayed his delight at his own joke. She belted the gun and stood up. “Where can we find him?” He pulled a cell phone from his pocket. He tapped the glass and showed her its lock screen. “I’m just waiting on a call now.” “From your contacts?” He struggled to hide the look of pained disdain that now moved across his face. “You really have no idea how crime operates do you?” He pointed to the distasteful picture displayed as the lock icon, “This is his phone. I stole it. I am waiting on his friends to call his number for him.” Her eyes stared blankly at it. “So... You’ve had this all planned out from the start?” “Well— I didn’t exactly think a you were going to join me, but yes.” She rose her eyebrows and regarded him with a sense of awe and fear. Something nagged at her consciousness. “Let me use the restroom before we go.” “Sure thing.” In the privacy of the tiled bathroom she hastily scribbled a note on a piece of toilet paper. If I go missing, suspect number one on the Quinton murders (recently at large) is involved. My cell gps records tonight will help you find him. She signed it and wrote the date before tucking it behind her toothbrush in the cabinet. It was time to break the law. **Very happy with this so far. Still new to Reddit. I’ll consider building on this.	“So we meet again -” “Move, this is isn’t a joke.” I observed my arch nemesis carefully laying down a woman on the floor. I silently pull out a minuscule dagger I kept at all time in my sleeve. She wasn’t going to get away with it. “Are you framing me ?” “Framing you ?” She turned, still kneeling down, only to find herself in front of my glorious weapon. “Oh put that away, this is ridiculous. Is this really how you look like suit less ? That’s really disappointing,” she added, looking at me up and down. I sat down on the nearest chair, still pointing my blade toward her, and took a spit of my beer. “Kimono are in season,” I threw on a defying tone. “You don’t look great either. Now give me one reason not to kill you right now.” “I need your help.” I burst out loud. “Do you know who needed help ? Those poor employees of the bank you robed not later than this morning. There’s no way I’m helping you.” I watched her as she gently whips some blood off of the woman’s face. “This is my wife,” she muttered in a broken voice. “And I’ll have you know I’ve never hurt anyone, I’m just stealing, there’s nothing wrong with stealing from the powerful. Last time I checked, capitalism was the bad guy.” I frowned, surprised of this answer. “Your wife ?” “You have a problem with that ?” she exclaimed, throwing a dark look at me. “Well no, I mean… I have nothing against… Well… You looked straight... But…” “Shut up and help me.” A few tears had rolled down her face. I resigned to get up from my seat, and knelt next to her. “What happened ?” “We were at a party, and I went to the bathroom for less than two minutes. When I came back, she wasn’t there anymore. I looked everywhere for her, and I finally found her curled in the corner of the garden, unconscious and covered in blood. I don’t what happened.” “And why not going to a hospital ?” “Right, so the police can come get me as soon as I stepped foot there.” I pushed my finger against her neck. “She has a pulse. Are you sure she completely unconscious when you find her ?” “She awoke from time to time as we got here.” I got up and clapped my hands. “Well then it’s settled. She got into a fight and probably received a punch on the head. She’ll be fully conscious in a few minutes.” She gave me an unconvinced look. I sighed. “I’m not a doctor, alright ? Look, you can spend the night here if it reassure you.” I yawned. “I’m going to hit the bed, big day tomorrow of fighting crime and spreading justice.” “Are you really letting me sleep here ? Are you dumb ? What makes you so sure I won’t kill you in your sleep ?” I raised my brows. “Dressed like that I highly doubt it. Good night sleep tight don't let the bedbugs bite.” Iron Marx found herself alone in Super Offshore’s living room. She patted her wife’s shoulder. “Did he buy it ?” she whispered, her eyes still closed. Iron Marx smirked. “Yes he did. What an idiot.”
	[WP] The hero is enjoying a day off thanks to a rare quiet night in the city. That is until the villain shows up to her door, but carrying an unconscious woman and looking distraught. “I saved her from a party....I know this is weird, but I didn’t know who else to go to.”	He stood there with rain dripping from the rim of his baseball cap. The hand on her gun tightened. “What the hell?” “I don’t need to stay. Just take her and I’ll leave.” He shuffled under the weight of the woman’s body. Water dripped through the flimsy jean jacket covering her torso. If it wasn’t for the uncanny echo of desperation in his eyes she would have shot him in the face. His cheeks were flushed with effort. “Drop her and back away from the door.” The words rolled from between clenched teeth. He glanced at the puddle on the doorstep, “But the wate—“ “—Do it or take her somewhere else.” She drew her firearm but kept it pointed at the ground as a threat. Panic surged through his face and he laid the woman down gently on the porch. His hands remained clear when he lifted them in surrender. “Please, I swear this isn’t a trick.” “Just keep your hands high.” She bent over and gingerly patted the woman down. With her gun she motioned him to lean against the wall as she checked for weapons. He was clean. ***** “Why the hell didn’t you just drop her off at a police station?” By now they’d carried the woman to bed and she was safely tucked away in the guest room. She had him sit in the farthest armchair of the living room while she watched. Her gun lay beside her on the side table. “Believe it or not I don’t trust cops to keep their hands to themselves.” He leaned forward and put his head in his palms. “Look... It’s been a rough night. Just let me go home.” “Tell me what happened first.” He scowled at her. “Is this to delay me for something? If I dare hear a police siren—“ “—You’ll what? Run?” Her hand hovered threateningly over the weapon again. He flinched at the motion. “Asshole.” The anger in his face deepened, “I certainly won’t be around to help girls at parties anymore if I’m in prison.” She sighed. “Nobody’s coming.” Her hand returned to a place of neutrality, “Just tell me what happened.” A heavy breath soothed him as he laid back and stared up at the ceiling. “What is there to tell? Don’t pretend you can’t already guess what I pulled her from.” His hand tightened around the armchair. “Obviously you expect to hear the story of drunken rape? Roofied drinks between backroom gang bangs? By now that narrative of rape is practically a cultural icon. There are no surprises in human depravity anymore.” Her eyes widened. “Was she abused like that?” “—No! No. I got her out of there in time.” “What about the perpetrator?” “What about him?” “Did you deal with him?” He raised his eyebrows at her, “What? Was I supposed to beat him up in some back alley? Roundhouse kick him while carting a full grown woman in my arms?” “Ah.” She looked at him with an awkward silence, “I suppose not.” This was the fourth time they had ever been in the same room together. She had never noticed it during those long, caffeine driven interrogations but his eyes seemed to betray a softness. He was more weathered than she remembered. “Want to go hunt him down? Bring him in?” Her tone changed as she said it. “Then what? Dismiss him for lack of evidence?” He scowled again, “—No thanks.” She shifted uncomfortably in her seat and returned her hand to its position over the gun. “Maybe...” She hesitated and looked between him and the firearm, “—Maybe... we could try things your way?” “Assassination? Are you crazy?” “No! No! I just mean rough him up a little.” He smirked and was already reaching for his soaked jean jacket. “Really. I don’t know where you got the idea that I engage in such violence.” The little chuckle he gave betrayed his delight at his own joke. She belted the gun and stood up. “Where can we find him?” He pulled a cell phone from his pocket. He tapped the glass and showed her its lock screen. “I’m just waiting on a call now.” “From your contacts?” He struggled to hide the look of pained disdain that now moved across his face. “You really have no idea how crime operates do you?” He pointed to the distasteful picture displayed as the lock icon, “This is his phone. I stole it. I am waiting on his friends to call his number for him.” Her eyes stared blankly at it. “So... You’ve had this all planned out from the start?” “Well— I didn’t exactly think a you were going to join me, but yes.” She rose her eyebrows and regarded him with a sense of awe and fear. Something nagged at her consciousness. “Let me use the restroom before we go.” “Sure thing.” In the privacy of the tiled bathroom she hastily scribbled a note on a piece of toilet paper. If I go missing, suspect number one on the Quinton murders (recently at large) is involved. My cell gps records tonight will help you find him. She signed it and wrote the date before tucking it behind her toothbrush in the cabinet. It was time to break the law. **Very happy with this so far. Still new to Reddit. I’ll consider building on this.	“So quiet tonight. No alerts and it’s almost one a.m.,” she said out loud to herself as she looked at the large screen of her alert system. For Sierra Pierce, Los Angeles’ hero who everyone named Silver after her eye color, it was strange to see a lack of crime on any given night. She was fast, agile and skilled in various martial arts. The citizens compared her moves to that of a cat. She switched off the screen and walked to her kitchen and pulled out a bottle of wine from the refrigerator. “Might as well enjoy the night.” She poured herself a glass and slumped on a couch with music playing in the background and a book in her hand. Not a minute had passed since she began reading the book when her doorbell rang. She placed the glass and the book down on the table and walked to the door. She got into a defensive stance when she saw Sparks, the city’s most well-known villain. He was called so because he always created new electronic devices to disrupt the peace in the city. She turned angry as she saw the unconscious woman in his hands. “What did you do to her, Sparks?” “I saved her from a party…” He stepped back. “I know this is weird but I didn't know who else to go to.” “Maybe a hospital, Sparks.” She helped him take the woman inside and lay her down on her couch. “What were you thinking when you brought her here? We should get her to a doctor.” “No. See, she was at a party involving a lot of illegal drugs. She would get sent to prison if the hospital finds out she had been consuming them.” He looked at her helplessly. “Which one?” She checked her pulse and temperature. “Buzz 2.0. The new one on the market.” “Her pulse and temperature seems normal. What about the others?” She sat down on a couch. “They seemed alright. As a villain, I cannot call the cops on them. You know that.” “Why come to me?” “Because I know you are a chemist.” He rubbed his neck nervously. “How do you know that? An assumption?” Her tone was almost mocking. “I followed you yesterday. From early morning four when you were battling Hammer up till an hour ago. I noticed her collapse in the backyard of the house where the party was going on as I was having dinner on top of the building opposite yours.” He took a few steps back as she got up abruptly. “How dare you!” “I’m so sorry, Silver. Please see if you can help her.” The woman groaning as she gained consciousness made them stop arguing. They turned around to see her sit up and stretch as if she had been sleeping. She stood up slowly. She froze when she turned around and saw Sparks with a woman she could not recognize. “Where am I?” “You’re alright?” Sparks took a step towards her. She stepped back in fear. “Y...Yes.” She tripped and fell back on a couch. Her eyes widened when she spotted Silver’s mask on the coffee table. “What did you do with Silver?” “Nothing. I am alright.” Sierra approached her and extended a hand towards her. “I am Silver.” The woman went quiet as she observed Sierra’s silvery eyes. “You two are friends?” “No. He brought you here when you got knocked out at the party. This is my apartment.” “But isn't he the bad guy?” She looked quizzically at Sparks who sat on a couch beside the one she sat on. “Uh... I did save you. I only like to have fun with my devices on the streets of LA. I don’t mean to harm anyone.” Silver placed a hand on his shoulder. “He might even be a hero for all I know. He is harmless despite the random acts of vandalism every night.” His phone rang. He picked it up and walked to a corner of the room. When he finished the call, he walked up to Silver. “Can you drop her at her home? I have a job to do.” “I was hoping you wouldn't go off to vandalize something so soon.” Silver sounded disappointed. “Who said I was going for a job as Sparks? I am on-call and there is a patient, a child, who was brought in unconscious after tripping down a staircase.” He pocketed his phone. “You are a doctor?” The woman was surprised. “A paediatrician. Electronics is a hobby.” He walked to the door and turned around and smiled at the two women. “Duty calls, ladies. See you around, Silver.” A hero by day. A villain by night.
	[WP] The hero is enjoying a day off thanks to a rare quiet night in the city. That is until the villain shows up to her door, but carrying an unconscious woman and looking distraught. “I saved her from a party....I know this is weird, but I didn’t know who else to go to.”	He stood there with rain dripping from the rim of his baseball cap. The hand on her gun tightened. “What the hell?” “I don’t need to stay. Just take her and I’ll leave.” He shuffled under the weight of the woman’s body. Water dripped through the flimsy jean jacket covering her torso. If it wasn’t for the uncanny echo of desperation in his eyes she would have shot him in the face. His cheeks were flushed with effort. “Drop her and back away from the door.” The words rolled from between clenched teeth. He glanced at the puddle on the doorstep, “But the wate—“ “—Do it or take her somewhere else.” She drew her firearm but kept it pointed at the ground as a threat. Panic surged through his face and he laid the woman down gently on the porch. His hands remained clear when he lifted them in surrender. “Please, I swear this isn’t a trick.” “Just keep your hands high.” She bent over and gingerly patted the woman down. With her gun she motioned him to lean against the wall as she checked for weapons. He was clean. ***** “Why the hell didn’t you just drop her off at a police station?” By now they’d carried the woman to bed and she was safely tucked away in the guest room. She had him sit in the farthest armchair of the living room while she watched. Her gun lay beside her on the side table. “Believe it or not I don’t trust cops to keep their hands to themselves.” He leaned forward and put his head in his palms. “Look... It’s been a rough night. Just let me go home.” “Tell me what happened first.” He scowled at her. “Is this to delay me for something? If I dare hear a police siren—“ “—You’ll what? Run?” Her hand hovered threateningly over the weapon again. He flinched at the motion. “Asshole.” The anger in his face deepened, “I certainly won’t be around to help girls at parties anymore if I’m in prison.” She sighed. “Nobody’s coming.” Her hand returned to a place of neutrality, “Just tell me what happened.” A heavy breath soothed him as he laid back and stared up at the ceiling. “What is there to tell? Don’t pretend you can’t already guess what I pulled her from.” His hand tightened around the armchair. “Obviously you expect to hear the story of drunken rape? Roofied drinks between backroom gang bangs? By now that narrative of rape is practically a cultural icon. There are no surprises in human depravity anymore.” Her eyes widened. “Was she abused like that?” “—No! No. I got her out of there in time.” “What about the perpetrator?” “What about him?” “Did you deal with him?” He raised his eyebrows at her, “What? Was I supposed to beat him up in some back alley? Roundhouse kick him while carting a full grown woman in my arms?” “Ah.” She looked at him with an awkward silence, “I suppose not.” This was the fourth time they had ever been in the same room together. She had never noticed it during those long, caffeine driven interrogations but his eyes seemed to betray a softness. He was more weathered than she remembered. “Want to go hunt him down? Bring him in?” Her tone changed as she said it. “Then what? Dismiss him for lack of evidence?” He scowled again, “—No thanks.” She shifted uncomfortably in her seat and returned her hand to its position over the gun. “Maybe...” She hesitated and looked between him and the firearm, “—Maybe... we could try things your way?” “Assassination? Are you crazy?” “No! No! I just mean rough him up a little.” He smirked and was already reaching for his soaked jean jacket. “Really. I don’t know where you got the idea that I engage in such violence.” The little chuckle he gave betrayed his delight at his own joke. She belted the gun and stood up. “Where can we find him?” He pulled a cell phone from his pocket. He tapped the glass and showed her its lock screen. “I’m just waiting on a call now.” “From your contacts?” He struggled to hide the look of pained disdain that now moved across his face. “You really have no idea how crime operates do you?” He pointed to the distasteful picture displayed as the lock icon, “This is his phone. I stole it. I am waiting on his friends to call his number for him.” Her eyes stared blankly at it. “So... You’ve had this all planned out from the start?” “Well— I didn’t exactly think a you were going to join me, but yes.” She rose her eyebrows and regarded him with a sense of awe and fear. Something nagged at her consciousness. “Let me use the restroom before we go.” “Sure thing.” In the privacy of the tiled bathroom she hastily scribbled a note on a piece of toilet paper. If I go missing, suspect number one on the Quinton murders (recently at large) is involved. My cell gps records tonight will help you find him. She signed it and wrote the date before tucking it behind her toothbrush in the cabinet. It was time to break the law. **Very happy with this so far. Still new to Reddit. I’ll consider building on this.	Belfas the Greatheart sat down with a glass of mulled wine. His feet were kicked up before his great fireplace, in his lap sat a lightly purring tabby cat. He breathed in the spiced wine, savoring this rare moment of bliss amidst the hustle and bustle of a hero's life. That was, until a knocking like thunder boomed against his heavy banded iron door. Belfas set down the book, sighing heavily. "I'm never going to finish that accursed book," he grumbled as he stomped towards the door. The knocking only increased in strength and frequency as the Greatheart neared it. He could feel shudders in the stone floor, dents were forming where fist met iron. "By the Twelve Heavens! Stop that racket! I'm coming!" He slammed open the heavy steel bolts holding the door shut, flinging open the door. "I swear if you've broken my damned door..." the words died in his throat. Standing in his courtyard was Belphagor the Blackblade. The giant of a man stood at over seven paces tall, his obsidian black armor shone with unnatural light. Belfas backflipped away, grabbing onto a warhammer he kept near the door to ward away intruding demons....and insurance salesmen. "Avaunt thee demon! Another step and I shall-" He was interrupted by Belphagor raising his free hand and saying "Wait! Hold on!" His voice was the rumble of an avalanche, but something in his pained voice stilled his hand. "I saved her from a party...I know this is weird, but I didn't know who else to go to." In the crook of his great armored arm rested a young girl, obviously of Elven descent. Belfas lowered the warhammer slightly, still wary of a trap. "Bring her in. Third door down the left. Stray, and I will slaughter you." Belphagor didn't hesitate, nodding his scarred and disfigured face in thanks. True to the agreement, Belphagor went straight to the temple as indicated. Belfas walked into the room behind them, calmed by the room despite his alertness. The walls were clad in gold, the floor done in marble, bespoke with silver filigree depicting angels in song. Warm light flooded out from an idol in the center of the room, filling the heart with courage and love. Just as Belfas was calmed, Belphagor was in obvious distress. "Why risk the pain of this room Blackblade? Who is she to you?" The great monster laid her down on a slab of marble which raised from the floor at his approach. "I...I...I can't say. Please. Help her Greatheart. I need you." Despite his misgivings, he walked over to the girl, reaching out to touch her chest. With a growl, Blackblade snatched his wrist. Belfas turned a sharp eye on Belphagor, hefting his hammer in his off hand. The Blackblade's eyes dropped, letting go of his hand. "I'm sorry...She is precious to me. I can't let her be harmed." Belfas nodded slowly, understanding. "I need to touch her to determine what ails her and how to fix it. I swear by the Light of Ilsilda that I will do no harm to her." This was no empty vow, light exploded from the idol, pouring into the Paladin's chest. "The vow is made and the deal is struck. I can no more hurt her than turn invisible and fly away." At the look in Belphagor's eyes, Belfas laughed. "No. I can't do either of those things." He turned his eyes back to the girl, her breathing had slowed notably since arriving. Belfas reached out his hand, pressing it lightly on the girl's willow thin chest. "Ilsilda, let me know her pain. Let me see her sorrow. Let me feel her soul." The prayer was answered. Light from the idol flowed into Belfas, then poured into the girl. It filled her, the pale skin of her body glowed with light. The light then began to flow back into Belfas...but it was wrong. The light which returned to him was sickly and black, filled with taint. In his mind he saw something dark and powerful. Somehting more ancient and malevolent than any mind he had before touched. A thunderclap sounded, sending Belfas hurtling from the marble bed on which the Elf girl lay. Belfas looked up to see the impossible. The idol began to crack. With a sound like mountains colliding, the idol of Ilsilda, greatest of all Gods, exploded. He looked up at Belphagor, almost hoping to see treachery on the villain's face. Instead he saw horror. Horror and fear. The girl was no longer there, in her place was a lingering miasma of darkness. Standing, Belfas marched up to and seized Belphagor's chest-plate, dragging him down to meet his gaze. "What in the Twelve Heavens was she? And I want the truth!" ________________ This evolved to be more than expected. I'll be back to do more with it if there's interest. /r/SirLemoncakes. **There will be more. So say we all.
Edit: cripes this blew up... wasn’t expecting this in the slightest.	[WP] You accidentally broke a mirror in an antique shop while chatting with a friend. A large amount of white smoke fills the floor, and a voice whispers “Free... at last.” Instead of a demon coming from the mirror as you first guessed, it was an angel. Someone had trapped an angel in the mirror.	It was a mistake. He barely touched it. His sleeve caught the handle of the small hand-mirror as he passed the shelf. He'd just caught sight of Evan across the aisle, reappearing from a small nook in the back of the shop. The mirror fell, in that slow, "this is going to be expensive, and there is no stopping it" way that tall, awkward men are all too familiar with. It caught the light from the window as it fell, sending shining shafts of brilliance into the recesses of the shop that probably hadn't been touched by the sun in decades. When it hit the hardwood floor, it exploded into what seemed a million pieces. The silver frame somehow bent and it collapsed into a shape reminiscent of a sword. The glass billowed into the air before his eyes and coalesced into a familiar shape. The being before him matched him in height, but was built like the proverbial Greek god: Muscled. Black hair. Black eyes. Black wings. It stooped gracefully to collect what had truly become a sword. Standing again, it looked at the young man and asked, "WHAT ARE YOU CALLED?" He swallowed, and answered, "My name is Adam." The Angel smiled. "HOW APPROPRIATE." Swinging its arm from the side, the young man's head flew from his body, blood arcing across the wall as the sword lit with flames. "IT IS TIME TO FINISH WHAT BEGAN IN THE GARDEN". *small edit to make better sense of part 2.	Paul looked around the smelly old shop. The further back his girlfriend dragged him the more cluttered it got. Knicknacks stacked haphazardly on top of old junk that was dated before his grandmother was born. This girl he was dating this month loved these junk shops. Paul hated them but he loved the way her butt poked out the bottom of her shorts more. He lost track of that booty somewhere between a giant mirror and an armour that was scuffed and stacked high with stuffed squirrels. He heard her called out from another aisle; "Oh. My. Gawd. Paulie baby come check this out!" Paulie baby tried to squeeze between the mirror and the armour. His v neck tee caught the mirror and knocked it over onto the floor, shattering it into a thousand pieces. "O s&$%!" That looked expensive. Paul looked for the exit, remembering the big 'You break it you bought it sign' at the front of the store. Lightning tore through the ceiling and the power died. Right where the mirror broke a large figure stood on the broken glass. Wings made of lightning stretched across the room, setting everything they touched on fire. "Aaaaaaaaaaaahhh!" A gutteral scream of relief came from that being, the only thing that shone with its own light in the dark. "Thank you human." It said in a voice that was too powerful and too beautiful to be human.. "I am free. Go with the Allmighty's blessings." With a crack of thunder that shattered every glass piece in the building the being vanished. "Paulie baby what happened?" What's-her-name called from the dark. Paul couldn't move from the shock of what he saw. The owner of the shop came around the corner, livid and weilding a broom. The sprinkler system popped on and showered everyone. Paul looked at the owner and then at the mess around him. He held up his hands; "Look, it was like this when I got here!"
	[WP] As a Lich you have become a terrifying undead sorcerer through abhorrent rituals, over hundreds of years you have come to regret your actions and wish to perform 1,000 good deeds before allowing your destruction at the hands of heroes.	The first centuries had been a rush of pure excitement and ecstasy. I still remember the first person I killed - the accelerated beating of my heart when I drove the knife in their stomach, the sticky blood gushing over my trembling hands, the look in their face as life finally left them. I remember the anger of the townsfolk after the discovery of my deed, so clearly that I can almost still feel them beating me just shy of death while ignoring my jumbled explenations and crys for mercy. I can still think back to the hunger gripping me while I wandered through the wilderness, and to my disappointment when my first desperate experiments with dark magic failed me. I recall the beginning, when I still had justifications for my actions as I raised a horde of zombies and skeletons to protect my life from bandit clans and orc tribes. I can pinpoint when I became a genuinly bad person as I dropped all pretense of neccesity to punish the people who had wronged me. Ripping apart their bodies and raising them to become my servants in death had felt so sweet, almost like some sort of cosmic justice. The early days were such a rush of adrenaline. I wandered around, never staying in one place long enough to get caught by paladins or adventuring parties. Striking at weak targets to replenish my army while evading capable groups was a dance with death, and there would never come a time in my life where I would feel so alive. As I slowly gained power, I eventually could defeat more and more of my enemies, enough to cut me some breathing room. In a moment of clarity I decided that I needed to bring the fight to the people who kept sending hired muscle to kill me. It was easier than expected - people out there in the wilderness were either able to defend themselves or dead, while citydwellers were helpless children in comparison. Wiping out and raising entire cities let my power skyrocket, enough to enable me to start a full scale war against the kingdom I had once called mine. As soon as I routed the first of it's armies in the fields, the neighboring countries jumped on it like a predator smelling weakened prey. I didn't attack them and they didn't attack me - I was content with being secure and didn't feel this overwhelming greed for power, for a time. I found the ritual to archive Lichdom in the forbidden libraries of the country I'd conquered, and I instantly began with the implemenation. It took me decades, but in the end I shed my flesh like a snake their skin and emerged as an undying demigod. I took great amount of satisfaction in ripping apart entire cities by myself through my newfound power. The following time was great. People who wanted to be my apprentices travled far to be teached by me, and other necromancers flocked to my banner and swore me loyalty. My realm expaneded fast, both by conquest and because people chose to submit to serve in life rather than in death. I ruled with an iron fist, and people were terrified of the punishments I could dish out and in awe of the rewards I was able to give. Eventually, I started getting bogged down. My realm had grown to an unmanageable size, and I was unable to fix all the problems that arose. Incursions of neighboring nations took back swathes of land I was unable to contest, bands of heroes infiltrated my cities and created unrest, and my vassels that thought themselves away far enough to be beyond my wrath rebelled. I had to spend a lot of time in court, creating policies to keep my land from falling apart and making sure none of my underlings schemed against me. After a while I had enough and chose to spend my time stuying magic rather than saving my failing state. In the end, a group of adventurers got me. While huge parts of my former realm became independant and battled each other for dominance, I sat in my capital, studying, unbothered by the carnage that dissolved the land around me. I was confident in my reputation being enough to keep others from attacking me. I was wrong about this, just like I had been wrong about so many things. One of them was laying on the floor, drained of all life by dark magic. One sat drooling next to my throne after I wiped his mind clear. The third was shifted to another dimension and probably died there. I was currently blasting apart the fourth with lighting when the last of their party managed to complete his spell to seal me away for the next century. A hundred years is a lot of time. Enough time to rage against the people that brought you in your current situation. Enough time to swear revenge on them and all their decendants when you would finally manage to escape. Enough time to fall prey to desperation and give up all hope. But in the end, it all kinda faded away. My surface emotions left me and revealed the regret that was hidden deeply inside me. When I emerged again, I was another person, walking another world. Most people had forgotten about me. Nothing I had created was built to last. I could have just carried on as a normal person living a normal life. I could have restared my evil empire. Instead, I chose to atone, even if my actions will never be enough. The only kind of redemption I can hope for is redemption in death.	The kingdom of Zir was not always a land of prosperity. The desert sands and the rarity of rainstorms ever since the great calamity made life here very difficult, but over the past handful of centuries he did his best to correct the issue. After all, he had more than a small hand to play in the calamity's arrival. The coin was hard to part with as he built aqueducts and dams, and the powerful spells he cast to bring what life he could to the region were unnatural to the undead lich Khal-Thalil, taxing his rotting body to its very limits. But he had to make up for the sins of his past. Sadly, north of the Dryden mountains the land was still a harsh, unforgiving desert. Even with his immense power, he could only sustain a portion of the countryside, and thus it was here his fortress sat. An undead monument and a reminder of what their foes would be up against should the healthier half of Zir seem a tempting target for enemies across their borders. Zir stared at a large map of Litheeria, their home continent on the golden walls of his palace. Today was the 35th of the month, just three days shy of a festival the people held in his honor. A celebration of plenty thanks to the great effort of their immortal leader. It used to bring a smile on his face, helping his dead heart feel a little less cold as he reflected on the townsfolk's appreciation as well as how the hard work he expelled gave them the means and the heart of which to celebrate. Unfortunately today, there was nothing for him to celebrate. Khal-Thalil turned towards the rest of the room, filled from wall to wall with cluttered scrolls of historical documents, incantations for powerful spells, and bits and pieces of journals he had taken throughout his eons of un-life. Tomes of lost knowledge, jewels of magical power, and various handy items of all sorts littered the floor. he had a vault for all of this of course, but he chose to gather it all here in preparation for the storm that was coming. The hero known as Mar was travelling quickly across the lands in the east. A warrior wielding powerful, ancient magic once believed impossible and given a holy mission to destroy a released evil just as old. Khal-Thalil knew this evil, this monster that climbed from the darkest depths of hell to reign over man. he knew it well. It was only a matter of time before the abhorrent crimes he committed to become the creature he is would come to light. Only a matter of time until he would be linked with the original rise to the bringer of darkness. The lich pulled out a small, incredibly ornate red and golden box from his robe and set it on a table. His phylactery. His source of immortal power. any human would open it to find themselves as fuel for his strength. Anyone strong enough to resist would still find nothing more than a rather nasty headache and an invulnerable little ornament. But with enough holy and righteous might, it could be shattered. Destroyed, so the demon that had escaped his prison could not reclaim the power within. Khal-Thalil only hoped this hero had such means. He looked past the clutter and stared out a large window at the other end of his study, staring at the horizon of desert beyond him. A thousand good deeds to make up for the thousand years of torment he brought upon this world. A thousand deeds to prepare them for the horror that gathered it's strength with his people in its sights. He only could hope it had all been enough.
	[WP] As a Lich you have become a terrifying undead sorcerer through abhorrent rituals, over hundreds of years you have come to regret your actions and wish to perform 1,000 good deeds before allowing your destruction at the hands of heroes.	The ancient metal doors creaked open, banging against their hinges. Light sifted into the room. Three hulking men in robes and cloaks stepped forth, radiating an aura of hero-ness. The shining Paladin in silver armour held a hammer at his side. The bearded wizard a staff in his arms and the berserker, with a door-sized battleaxe held in each arm. They stared up towards the end of the room, their footsteps clanging against the stone tiles with each step. Trailing from their feet to the end of the room, a gigantic skull throne sat with a monstrosity glaring down at them. Two gleaming eyes peeked out from a titanous demon sitting upon the throne, with arms and legs as tall as himself, hulking tall and wide. “You’ve pillaged our villages for the last time, fiend,“ said the berserker in a guttural growl, making his way forward. “Your time is nigh. Die!“ With a tremendous effort, the berserker leapt forward, battle axe in each hand. He flew fifty feet into the air with his axes raised to strike, pointed towards the heavens. The Lich sat in his throne, not moving a muscle. The Paladin and Wizard rushed forth to their comrade’s side, their faces twisted in determination. The nerves on their wrists were pulsing, gripping their weapons. The berserker dropped like a brick, falling towards the lich. Coming closer and closer. The berserker smiled mid-air, his axes sure to make contact. The lich rose to his feet and raised his arms. “Huh?” Two shining battle axes were frozen in the air, their massive blades held in place by the Lich’s thumb and index finger on each side. The paladin screamed. “Ho,“ said the berserker., smiling. “Unbelievable. You caught them bare-handed?” The berserker’s stepped back and withdrew his axes, ready to strike again. “No, no no,“ said the Lich, stepping towards ther berserker. He grabbed his shoulder plate and yanked it straight off. “Argh! God!” Ther berserker stepped back, ”Honestly,” said the Lich with all the indignation he could muster, ”Did you get dressed in the dark or something?” The berserker stepped back, his eyes wide. “What?“ “Look, you fool,“ said the Lich, gripping his other shoulder plate and yanking it off as well. “Oh God,“ screamed the berserker, his manly voice whimpering like a child, “That really hurts!” “See this?“ said the Lich, pointing towards the left shoulder plate with an indentation on its left, “This goes on the left.” The berserker blinked as he tried to register what the demon in front of him was saying. The paladin and wizard were stopped in their tracks as well, watching in confused fascination. “And this,“ said the Lich, jabbing towards the right shoulder plate with an indentation on its right, “clearly goes on the right shoulder..“ “Huh,“ said the berserker, getting a closer look now. “I guess that makes sense.“ “Here now,“ said the Lich, strapping the shoulder plates onto the hulking bulk of a man in front of him. “Now, how does that feel?“ “Wait, what are you doing?“ said the berserker in a timid voice. “I said,“ said the Lich, in a thunderous voice full of doom and menacing evil, “how does that feel now?” The berserker’s arms feel to his sides. He wriggled around his shoulders a bit, feeling his shoulders. “Huh,“ he said, tilting his head to the side, “I guess they feel more roomy?“ “Exactly,“ said the Lich, crossing his arms and adopting a smile that reached his eyes. “You had the shoulder plates on backwards!“ he boomed. The Paladin and Wizard watched in fear now. “Honestly, brave warrior,“ said the Lich in a cheery voice, “Just because they’re shoulder plates doesn’t mean you can put them on any way you want! There’s a way to do these things. “ The Wizard and Paladin exchanged worried looks. “I guess.. You’re right?“ said the berserker feebly. “My God man,“ said the Lich, clapping his arms onto the berserkers’s shoulders and looking him in the eyes, “Have some pride in this hero business. If you can’t even get these basics right, how can you expect other people to respect you?“ The berserker gaped at him, unable to make words. His buddies scrunched their faces in confusion and walked up to their buddy as well, their weapons held at their sides. They gazed at the supreme evil that had plagued their villages, pillaged their food supplies and taken their women in a frenzy of blood and chaos thousands of times before. “What the hell, Lucas,“ whispered the Wizard to the Paladin, “Are we at the right place?” “I don’t know what you’re talking about,“ said the berserker, assuming a martial arts stance with his battle axes, “We’re here to kill you! You can’t confuse me!“ “We’ve come to kill you, foul demon!” said the Paladin, raising his hammer of righteousness, “What the hell do you care which shoulder plate goes where? Stop your mind tricks!” The paladin raged forwards, shouting a righteous battle cry that filled his comrades with determination. The Lich stepped forth, his dark red eyes gleaming in the darkness. He stepped forth and grabbed the hammer above his head. The Paladin faltered, shocked that his blow had been thwarted. “No, no, no,“ began the Lich once again, “You too, moron!” “Shut it, you fiend!” “Idiot!” shouted the Lich, and grabbed the Paladin’s arms, twisting it backwards and slipping behind him. “There! You see?” continued the Lich from behind the Paladin, “You’re holding the hammer all wrong! Get your wrist up higher, so you can put more power into it.“ “Damn you!” Just try it! Move your hands up. Just do it.” The Paladin adjusted his hands to move up the shaft, gripping it tight. “I’m going to let go now. Try your best to smash the hell out of my head.” The Lich dropped the Paladin’s arms and stepped back. Whirling about, the paladin raised his hammer yet again and brought it smashing down on the Lich’s head. It shattered into a million pieces and scattered all over the room. “You see how that felt,” said the Lich, “Did you feel the power as you swung it down? That’s the kind of difference that makes.” The Paladin was fuming, refusing to make eye contact with the Lich. His hand was purple and throbbing, where it had bruised with the sheer impact of shattering into the Lich’s head. The wizard stepped forth, his arms held up and palms out. “Why are you… teaching us how to hurt you better?“ asked the old wizard with a curious twinkle in his eyes, “What do you have to gain from this?“ But the Lich wasn’t listening. He had whipped out a little ancient notebook and was scribbling down on it furiously. “Helped novice adventureres with their crappy techniques,” the Lich slowly read out, “Check.” The lich pocketed his notebook. He punched the air and did a little jump. His giant metallic body leapt into the air and crashed down into the earth again, and he looked at the adventurers in joy. “Well now,“ said the Lich, “Why don’t you lot go to THAT room,“ the Lich pointed towards a blood stained metal door in the distance, “Where you can find the rest of the adventurers who can after me who are all waiting there.” “Oi,” said the Wizard,“You didn’t answer my question.“ “Well, excuse me,“ said the Lich, “I am the resident evil overlord Lich here in charge of decimating the human populations and terrorizing the local populace.“ The Lich jabbed the wizard in the chest. “So you better listen up. I’m not letting anyone kill me before I complete my 1000 deeds. You lot can have at me then.” The Lich pushed the wizard to the side and strode towards the exit. He raised his hand to grip the door, then faltered. “Talk with my secretary, Shub-niggurath, for an appointment for my head when I’m done with this shit. You better train yourselves so you’re not an embarrassment the next time we fight.” The Lich opened the door and turned around to face the young adventurers who had come to do battle with him. They were all looking at him, awe-struck. He turned to the wizard and paused. “Come to think about it,“ said the Lich, “I forgot all about you, sir, wizard, didn’t I?“ “Ready to battle then, are you?“ said the Wizard, slamming the hilt of his staff into the floor. The entire room shuddered as the staff gleamed with magic. “No. For you, my gift is the truth: You look terrible in green robes. You should throw them away and get some light colours, they go better with your grey hair.“ The Lich smiled at the shocked wizard and turned about, slamming the door shut behind him and leaving the dazed adventurers and a very shocked wizard in his room.	Alfgardr the Gray dismounted from his horse at the sign of the Prancing Mustang. Bob, the tavern boy, took the reins, and Alfgardr smiled to the little guy before heading for the doors. Everyone in the Firmlands knew Alfgardr the Gray, the cranky, but kindly wandering old wizard in dusty, tattered robes. He frequented this tavern and was always friendly to the owner, a plump, balding man named Barleycorn. "What are the news, Barleycorn?", Alfgardr inquired after ordering a beer. "Things as usual, sir", the tavernkeeper answered. "Those weird ranger men fighting swamp goblins. The Tomb Wraiths over the hills are quiet, Old Jack comes to the haunted hills from time to time." "No rumors of Lord Agazzar?" "What? No, sir! I'm not even sure if he exists anymore. The rangers say that those goblins and wraiths must be directed by some mortal dabbling in black magic, not him." Alfgardr liked the answers he received. He took his mug of beer and went upstairs to his room. That was a well-known quirk of his: no one ever saw the old wizard drinking the beer he ordered. He entered his bedroom, left the mug of beer on the table and bolted the door securely. After this, Alfgardr unclasped the Amulet of False Faces on his neck, and the face of the grumpy old wizard dissolved in thin air, uncovering a grinning yellowish skull. "Today was my 820th good deed", thought Lord Agazzar, also known as Alfgardr the Gray. "I guess I'll complete my penance in a century or two, after which it will be time to go. One last time I shall appear as myself. Note to self: appoint the most lazy and moronic Death Knights and do not forget to leave no guard at the Crater of Darkness!"
	[WP] You’re off to rescue the princess who has been trapped in a tower for years. When you get there, however, you realize she’s not trapped from the rest of the world. They’re trapped from her.	For sixteen years, the rumor was the princess could never be freed. She was snared in the branches of the living castle, inside the Whispering Woods, surrounded by the Murder Marshes. But the rumors never accounted for a man as amazing, spectacular, and flawless in each and every way, Sir Talon Joshson. Talon breezed through the Murder Marshes. Loping zombie skulls from their rattling torso’s, slicing through the drowners, and politely asking the water hags to back off. The Whispering Woods told him to go back, but Talon was a stuborn man, in the most complimentary way the word could be used. The ents stuck their roots deep and pretended to be normal trees, fearing the chopping motions he made with his blade. The dryads giggled with the pixies as they watched the handsome warrior march his way through the thick brush, always minding his hair. A head the largest tree in the world stood before him. The living castle, home to an entire civilization of critters and magical beings. Those creatures dared not stand in the way of Sir Talon Joshson, the smell of a hunter pulsed out majestically from his arm pits, causing them all to scatter. The branches were thick and steady, making the climb up a joy for the wonderful Sir Talon Joshson, like a child in the back yard tree he continued to climb, not a worry in the world in how the hell he would get back down. At the top of the world a hollow hole watched over it’s forest and the knight rolled in, not that he needed to, it just looked cool. Inside that dark hollow hole, a beautiful brunette dangled he bodied wrapped in a dress made of leaves. The critters watched in fear as Sir Talon Joshson stroked his chin nodding. Indeed, this princess was as beautiful as the rumors had said, a perfect match for a man as amazing as he. His sword pulled from it’s sheath with the sound of steel scraping leather and he took a deep breath to ready his swing. “Wait!” A goblin yelled holding up his hands. A puny creature such as this should not have addressed Sir Talon Joshson at all and he frowned. His beautiful moment ruined by a low level trash mob. “This isn’t what you think sir knight! It is not safe!” his cracking voice rang throughout the hollow space. Sir Talon Joshson sniffed and blinked his teary eyes. This was not the moment he had imagined. With a wave of his gauntlet he sent the goblin sprawling to the wood floor. The knight nodded, pleased that he may continue this moment he had trained for. His sword swung like lighting and the roots parted like butter. The vines wrapped around the girl withered and died, no longer sustained by the magic of the living castle. An aura of white light formed around the princess, and she descended to the floor below like an angel. Sir Talon Joshson fell to his knees and bowed before the sight, It was the most beautiful thing he had seen since his last encounter with a mirror. “My lady, I have freed you from the spell…” his words fell out of his mouth as he looked up to see purple ethereal tendrils stretching out from the girl, a devious smile plastered all over her face. “Free. Free at long last,” she laughed maniacally. “Princess?” Sir Talon Joshson asked. Her wicked snarl turned to the man as her hair shot up as if it were rubbed by a balloon. She pointed her finger and cackled, “die.” Sir Talon Joshson held up his arms in defence as a bolt of magic zipped straight towards his precious face. But on the back of his hand a white tree began to glow and the magic splashed against an invisible wall before him. He stood and coughed into his hand abashed by his cowardice, the princess must have been testing him. If so he must put on his best face and pretend he hadn’t failed. “I’m happy to see you are unharmed.” Her nose wrinkled in disgust, “Human, why are you not dead?” “I am too special to die!” he proclaimed proudly. The princess furrowed her brow and shook her head. “No this can’t be.” “It is my lady,” the goblin said bowing. “You? What have you done? Why can I not kill this fool?” Sir Talon Joshson frowned, “hey, be nice to the goblin.” She ignored the wonderful Knight and turned to the goblin, “What magic is this?” “It is a binding spell, the ownership of it has been transfered from the mother tree to this man. You must heed his every command until he frees you from the bond. Killing him is forbidden.” The goblin was explaining. Sir Talon Joshson tilted his head confused and opened his mouth to speak but vines reached out and muzzled his voice. “And you,” the goblin said pointing a shaking finger at the knight, “Don’t you dare free her, she will bring an end to the world!” “But she’s a princess?” Sir Talon Joshson said with a mouth full of leaves. “She’s the dark lords only daughter, I thought the stories were clear? She must never be freed.” Sir Talon Joshson looked up to the ceiling, abashed that he had stopped listening to the rumors after the words, “A princess locked in a tower.” &#x200B; /r/QuarkLaserdisc	Finally. Time to rescue the princess! No one had succeeded before me. In fact, no one had ever come back from the tower alive. No one knew what to expect. There were rumours of a great dragon-like beast. A beast that could outrun even the fastest horse. Rumours of traps, more dangerous than anything faced before. The tower was in the distance. I was maybe a days ride away. It was almost time to rescue the princess. I would not fail! I arrived at the tower. A body lying across the front doorstep. Pfft amateur. I walked up nonchalantly and pushed open the door. A large chain and ball swung through. Had I been such an amateur it may have caught me off guard. I waltzed inside. Confident in my abilities. A former knight stuck on a wall? Spikes. No dead body for a while? Pit fall. It was simple really. A charred body, well either a trap or the beast. I took my time and spotted the small trip wire underfoot. I gave it a yank, standing behind the scorch marks. The fire bellows down as I begin to fall. I reach forward and grab the edge of a new hole that had formed under my feet. Looking down I see a few bodies. Poor sods, not fast enough reflexes. I haul myself up taking care to bypass the flame trap. I managed to avoid all future traps with ease before arriving at large wooden doors. I open one a crack and peak in to find the beast lying there. Sleeping. I sneak in. The beasts breath hot as he bellows out a long breath. As I walk past its head a pair of golden eyes open. Larger than my head staring at me. “Are you here to save the princess?” It’s voice boomed echoing around the room. “Yes. And should you stand in my way, I shall fell you!” “Haha. You feeble minded human. You believe I am here to stop you? I am merely here to warn you of your fate should you attempt to rescue the princess. You assume these traps are for you. To stop you. You will perish if you attempt to save her.” “I am no fool beast. Your words are mere trickery, you shall not hold me from my goal any longer!” With that I walked towards the door. Opening it a statue of stone blocked the door. Probably just the princess protecting herself from the beast. I weaved my way around it’s arms spotting more statues. All standing, hands trying to block their eyes. Interesting poses, if she enjoys such poses she shall have as many as she wishes. Rounding the next statue I froze. Stone cold. Standing was a lady but her bottom half was that of a snake. And her hair more snakes. I tried to cover my eyes to avoid looking another second. I couldn’t bare to see this sight. But I was stuck staring. My hands not quite covering my eyes. As all the other statues in the room. I realised the beasts warnings the mistake I’d made. As the creature in front of me started to weep. Staring at herself in a mirror endlessly. Edit: forgot this r/DougysDramatics
	[WP] Your superpower: The ability to successfully do the job...with the wrong tool. (Optional - Your weakness: The inability to do so with the right tool for the job.)	(from the IMDb quotes page - https://www.imdb.com/title/tt2911666/characters/nm0638824) Viggo Tarasov : It's not what you did, son, that angers me so. It's who you did it to. Iosef Tarasov : Who? That fucking nobody? Viggo Tarasov : That "fuckin' nobody"... is John Wick. He once was an associate of ours. They call him "Baba Yaga." Iosef Tarasov : The Boogeyman? Viggo Tarasov : Well John wasn't exactly the Boogeyman. He was the one you sent to kill the fucking Boogeyman. Iosef Tarasov : [stunned] Oh. Viggo Tarasov : John is a man of focus, commitment, sheer will... something you know very little about. I once saw him kill three men in a bar... with a pencil, with a fucking pencil. Edit: included source.	I wasn't quite sure what had been happening to me, but I did know that whatever it is, seemed like a miracle. It started at school, 4th period, I had left the classroom for a minute to use the facilities when the kickdown alarm sounded and I heard the ringing sound of a gunshot. I ran into the cubicle and sat on the seat, knees against my chest, wishing I had bought my phone with me so I could text my parents. The gun shots were getting closer. I heard screams, and bangs. Then the toilet door opened. I held my breath, waiting, looking around for something to defend myself with, but all I could find was an empty toilet roll tube. The cubicle door opened. I panicked, looked at the tiny cardboard tube, and threw it at the masked man's face. He fell. I don't know how, but he fell, knocked clean out. I ran out of the bathroom and into the nearest classroom where in a panicked frenzy I tried explaining it to the teacher in the room. I don't know how this happened, but I know I'm now considered a hero.
	[WP] Your superpower: The ability to successfully do the job...with the wrong tool. (Optional - Your weakness: The inability to do so with the right tool for the job.)	"Life exists on a razors edge." My dad was a good man. He was funny, friendly, loving, and instilled me with a sense of value for myself and the world. But he was also stern, making sure I always kept the world in perspective, knowing the precarious balance that experiences hinge on. "Life exists on a razors edge" was his favorite maxim he always brought up any time he thought I was getting a little too sure of myself. Because of the qualities of both of my parents and their attention to supporting whatever visions I had, they always believed that I could do anything I wanted, until I believed it too. I had always loved barbershops; something about their simple, old charm. There was beauty in turning a simple action into an art, and being able to create by subtraction. I had my mind made young, to be a barber, and I was on my way. I had been a successful barber for 10 years, enjoying every day of knowing I was living in my vision. I lived near my shop, and walked back and forth every day as I wound and unwound from the day. I had a simple, lovely, confident life. One day on my walk home, I noticed a fire burning in the distance. The smoke looked a tinge purple and blue, so I figured it was the chemical factory on the edge of town. I lived far away and noticed nothing out of the ordinary - the wind was even blowing in the other direction, so I wasn't worried about any effects heading my way. The night morning was beautiful - sunny, full of songbirds, and just cloudy enough to keep the sun at bay but welcome the blue skies. It was Friday, which meant my dad would be my first customer in the shop, ready for is weekly shave, and to talk about the last week of our lives. You already know I thought highly of my dad, so it was always a highlight of my week, knowing that I had achieved success in his eyes - success being hard work attaining my vision. Everything seemed normal; I got my prep all ready, popped a fresh blade in my razor, and asked my dad if he was ready. All systems were go, so I took put my blade to his neck and...well, you know the rest, mom, since I'm writing to you from my cell. It brings me relief knowing that you'll finally believe me, after the official reports from the Board of Health noted that myself and the others impacted by the chemical winds had their 'talent apparatus polarity' switched. I look forward to building my life again after these next few years, knowing you'll help again achieve my visions...complicated as they may be, now. Oh, and the warden asked me to be the prison barber, ironically enough, especially since they don't have to provide razors which helps with security. I cut with a spoon, now. I know dad would forgive me if he were alive - maybe even chuckle at the irony of his old maxim. I'll never really get to use it again, will I..."Life exists on a spoons edge" just doesn't have the same ring to it.	I wasn't quite sure what had been happening to me, but I did know that whatever it is, seemed like a miracle. It started at school, 4th period, I had left the classroom for a minute to use the facilities when the kickdown alarm sounded and I heard the ringing sound of a gunshot. I ran into the cubicle and sat on the seat, knees against my chest, wishing I had bought my phone with me so I could text my parents. The gun shots were getting closer. I heard screams, and bangs. Then the toilet door opened. I held my breath, waiting, looking around for something to defend myself with, but all I could find was an empty toilet roll tube. The cubicle door opened. I panicked, looked at the tiny cardboard tube, and threw it at the masked man's face. He fell. I don't know how, but he fell, knocked clean out. I ran out of the bathroom and into the nearest classroom where in a panicked frenzy I tried explaining it to the teacher in the room. I don't know how this happened, but I know I'm now considered a hero.
	[WP] Your superpower: The ability to successfully do the job...with the wrong tool. (Optional - Your weakness: The inability to do so with the right tool for the job.)	When my parents told me I needed to get myself a job and start paying bills, I don't believe they had this in mind. Of all the things I could be, an Alchemist was definitely NOT it. Though, to be fair, I'm not actually an alchemist. If someone went to my shop and it was any other place of business, like auto garage, or a phone repair shop, people would question my methods, to say the least. If it was anyone else, sprinkling red pepper flakes mixed with the crumbs of my last KFC order would most certainly not have repaired Mrs. Johnson's car. But, as a self-titled Alchemist, no one questions it when I wander out with a bathrobe, slippers, and whatever strange concoction I mixed up that day. You see, I have the strange ability to do just about anything with the wrong tools. And as an added bonus, I don't need to know the "real" way, only the goal. Of course, I don't need to stick with fixing things (I'd put the repair shops around here out of business if I did), so I pour my flat Mountain Dew from the day before on some scrap metal, and sell the gold it became. One day, I had a customer come in with a problem. He had accidentally factory reset his phone, and thus needed me to fix it, because the shop next door couldn't. I shrugged, and took it in the back to examine it. Out of my pantry came some salt, into a bowl with some tap water, the phone, and what should have short-circuited it simply charged it for me. As long as I use the wrong tool, it doesn't matter which one, so I could have done that with a banana. However, if you're an Alchemist, you make dollars, not sense. While the phone charged, I grabbed various chemicals with food coloring in them (for effect), pulled the newly-dried phone out of its bath, and brought it out front. I could have fixed it with a hammer, but people are more likely to be happy with you if it doesn't look like you'll destroy their stuff. The sulfuric acid started the process, getting the files ready to come back, and its overflow fixing dents in my table from last week, while the plain blue-tinted water finished it. Once I set the bottles down, I collected my fee, and got back to my other job. While fixing things wrong is great, it's also nice to build things and sell them. For example, I have an energy drink made of powdered sleeping pills and water, a cancer-curing drink (Another drink, but I'm the Alchemist around here, gotta keep up appearances) with cyanide and sawdust, and my patented bulletproof vest made of nothing but aluminum foil and paint. Those sell fast to the local police department, because they will protect from everything. They even call me along for some missions for how well I can apprehend criminals by flinging string cheese at them, all while munching on a brick of lead and wearing my signature ridiculous outfit. My close friends know my secret, and we all laugh when I successfully beat them in a game with the worst equipment I can manage to find. I have to leave now, someone at this restaurant spotted me typing this on a hamburger, and now they're giving me a strange look.	I wasn't quite sure what had been happening to me, but I did know that whatever it is, seemed like a miracle. It started at school, 4th period, I had left the classroom for a minute to use the facilities when the kickdown alarm sounded and I heard the ringing sound of a gunshot. I ran into the cubicle and sat on the seat, knees against my chest, wishing I had bought my phone with me so I could text my parents. The gun shots were getting closer. I heard screams, and bangs. Then the toilet door opened. I held my breath, waiting, looking around for something to defend myself with, but all I could find was an empty toilet roll tube. The cubicle door opened. I panicked, looked at the tiny cardboard tube, and threw it at the masked man's face. He fell. I don't know how, but he fell, knocked clean out. I ran out of the bathroom and into the nearest classroom where in a panicked frenzy I tried explaining it to the teacher in the room. I don't know how this happened, but I know I'm now considered a hero.
	[WP] Your superpower: The ability to successfully do the job...with the wrong tool. (Optional - Your weakness: The inability to do so with the right tool for the job.)	First attempt at one of these Writing Prompt's and I'm way out of practice as I've not really written anything for quite a long time. &#x200B; "Pass me a thing," I said to my friend as I held the shelf against the wall. "You mean the drill?" he laughed reaching for it "Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if you forgot your name one of these days." Panic flashed across my face, but Frank didn't see it. I couldn't let that drill even graze my skin or this shelf would more than likely explode, or do something as equally as inexplicable. Without even really thinking, I shoved my hand into my pocket, pulling out an elastic band with a paperclip attached, which I quickly stretched across the length of the board. Then I whistled a single note, which had just the right pitch and intensity to make a millimeter wide hole in the wall. Untwisting the paperclip I push one end into the hole and let go, it stays in place. "When I say pass me a thing, I really mean pass me A thing, anything, except something that would make sense for the situation," I said, turning to Frank who's hand had just clasped around the handle of the drill. Two more paperclips and two more whistles and that shelf is not going anywhere, unless I bring a drill anywhere near it that is.	I wasn't quite sure what had been happening to me, but I did know that whatever it is, seemed like a miracle. It started at school, 4th period, I had left the classroom for a minute to use the facilities when the kickdown alarm sounded and I heard the ringing sound of a gunshot. I ran into the cubicle and sat on the seat, knees against my chest, wishing I had bought my phone with me so I could text my parents. The gun shots were getting closer. I heard screams, and bangs. Then the toilet door opened. I held my breath, waiting, looking around for something to defend myself with, but all I could find was an empty toilet roll tube. The cubicle door opened. I panicked, looked at the tiny cardboard tube, and threw it at the masked man's face. He fell. I don't know how, but he fell, knocked clean out. I ran out of the bathroom and into the nearest classroom where in a panicked frenzy I tried explaining it to the teacher in the room. I don't know how this happened, but I know I'm now considered a hero.
	[WP] Your superpower: The ability to successfully do the job...with the wrong tool. (Optional - Your weakness: The inability to do so with the right tool for the job.)	First attempt at one of these Writing Prompt's and I'm way out of practice as I've not really written anything for quite a long time. &#x200B; "Pass me a thing," I said to my friend as I held the shelf against the wall. "You mean the drill?" he laughed reaching for it "Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if you forgot your name one of these days." Panic flashed across my face, but Frank didn't see it. I couldn't let that drill even graze my skin or this shelf would more than likely explode, or do something as equally as inexplicable. Without even really thinking, I shoved my hand into my pocket, pulling out an elastic band with a paperclip attached, which I quickly stretched across the length of the board. Then I whistled a single note, which had just the right pitch and intensity to make a millimeter wide hole in the wall. Untwisting the paperclip I push one end into the hole and let go, it stays in place. "When I say pass me a thing, I really mean pass me A thing, anything, except something that would make sense for the situation," I said, turning to Frank who's hand had just clasped around the handle of the drill. Two more paperclips and two more whistles and that shelf is not going anywhere, unless I bring a drill anywhere near it that is.	(from the IMDb quotes page - https://www.imdb.com/title/tt2911666/characters/nm0638824) Viggo Tarasov : It's not what you did, son, that angers me so. It's who you did it to. Iosef Tarasov : Who? That fucking nobody? Viggo Tarasov : That "fuckin' nobody"... is John Wick. He once was an associate of ours. They call him "Baba Yaga." Iosef Tarasov : The Boogeyman? Viggo Tarasov : Well John wasn't exactly the Boogeyman. He was the one you sent to kill the fucking Boogeyman. Iosef Tarasov : [stunned] Oh. Viggo Tarasov : John is a man of focus, commitment, sheer will... something you know very little about. I once saw him kill three men in a bar... with a pencil, with a fucking pencil. Edit: included source.
	[WP] Your superpower: The ability to successfully do the job...with the wrong tool. (Optional - Your weakness: The inability to do so with the right tool for the job.)	Ever since I was little I knew I had something special. I was the hero, I had an unhealthy obsession to be. Whenever anyone was in trouble I would always try and help. But I never could. When I was in 3rd grade a fire erupted in my chemistry class, the teacher fumbled around with the estinguisher and I just grabbed it and sprayed. Somehow I made fire come out of it instead, I was immediately expelled. After moving to a city I learned how to do things my way. If my engine brakes I have my handy typewriter in the back. A tree fell on my roof so I got up there and rubbed some honey on it and smoothed it right over. But I wanted to do more. I decided to become a cop, and put my gift to use. I made it up to swat, nobody could believe how quickly a rookie rose in the ranks so fast. I could breach any door with my toblerone, I could take down any perp by throwing my teddy bear Sgt. McClaws at them. But then I went to a bank robbery. It was standard procedure, we waited for the negotiator to handle the complicated stuff and we went in when he said. But then the robbers started firing. My best friend of 20 years got shot in the heart next to me. He was the best man at my wedding. As he died in my arms I looked at his gun. I wanted them to pay. I wanted to shoot the bastard that killed Alex. Now I'm paralyzed. I can't walk, I can't talk, I can barely take a shit. At least I have a cute nurse. Now I'm just alone with my thoughts, reliving my life. If only someone would help me rub some Jell-o on my spine I'd be good to go.	"Be back here at this location in one weeks time." I'd been through some very interesting challenges before, this was perhaps the most interesting. It was a test of how well I knew myself. There was a catch. I had to fool myself into going into the right direction. I'd shrugged when I heard that. I was good at connecting the dots as to why I did things later on. How big of a fool? "A pretty big one." I'd been told. That too, was part of it, I wasn't going to know how much I'd remember. How far would I have to go? "Never farther than you can believe you'd be able to get back here from." Cryptic. Well, I hadn't shied away from seeing how well I knew myself before, why not? \--- Where the fuck am I? How did I get here? "How much did I forget and what do I need to know to get to where I need to be?" Where am I going? \--- A planner? Why would I need one? Two books, a department store I rarely went to. Most curious of feelings, disagreeing on things I thought I'd agreed with myself about. \--- Day 3. I'm starting to understand. I don't know where I am, but someone is looking out for me. I can't make sense of it yet. Yesterday I wrote in my planner something I am going to do today and here I am ready to go do it. Such a simple request and I didn't know why I wrote it down. Perhaps I should give it a try and see what happens. \--- Day 5. Causality has been on my mind a lot lately. Why we do things, in what way. The way in which we need to lie to ourselves to figure out how to get to point A to point B. And when we're really honest about what we want. I've done things I hadn't thought I'd ever intend before and yet...understanding how we set goals for ourselves and how we get there has very much flipped for me. Wrong tools indeed. Right tools, wrong usage. \--- Evening time. It's been interesting, thinking of experiencing time in reverse. The subjective experience. How do I get back to the office when I need to? Because I know myself and I know where I'm need to get to. I might not know how exactly but I know I will. Breadcrumbs, intent, will, direction and choice. I'm writing the past simply by virtue of experiencing it. I can choose my own future. My intent, will and self can guide me to where I need to be, I still have a little to figure out. The question mark is the right tool when it needs to be, as is the exclamation mark. I trust myself to tell myself what I need to know, learn and remember along the way. \--- In the Kingdom of the Blind, the One Eyed Man is King. \--- Day 7 I'm early back to the office. "Welcome back. I see you really didn't go too far this time." I laugh. "No more than I needed to." I respond. I thought of how both statements were true and how they could possibly be false. We share a laugh. Things really were as literal as I could make them apparently. A thought. Everything really does happen for a reason. How would that be true, how could that be false? The last week blurred through my mind, causality. The past, cause and effect, intent and will. Here I am. I guided myself from the past, to now, through a possible future though I couldn't see it at the time. My partner saw the look on my face. I knew when I'd get on these trains of thought and I'd wanted to ride them as far as they could take me. On cue my stomach grumbled. I still had my moments of intellectual joy but I'd learned I needed to temper it with something more grounded. Am I hungry? Yes, I am. I'd figured out that all I needed to do was ask and opportunities would open. Would this one work? "How about lunch?" We ask each other.
	[WP] Your superpower: The ability to successfully do the job...with the wrong tool. (Optional - Your weakness: The inability to do so with the right tool for the job.)	It was 12:01 a.m. at the general hospital. Time to make my move. Using a mouthful of water, I was able to fake the signs of a crippling disease beyond the capabilities of the prison infirmary to treat, necessitating a need to be moved for treatment. When they served us dinner, I slyly hid the tools I needed to escape. I reached under my pillow for the handful of Jello. Lime, but it would have to do. It was still enough to pick my handcuffs. The easy part was over. I slowly, quietly cracked the door open. Outside, one of the guards that had been transporting me was posted, eyes staring away from the door. This would be tricky. I threw a cotton ball over his head to distract him. His head snapped to face it and he went over to investigate the commotion, I quickly slipped out and went the opposite direction. Navigating to the exit was easy. I thought I was home free until I spotted the uniformed officers waiting by the entrance. I pulled out the tiny wooden popsicle stick they had given me instead of a spoon. It made for a clever disguise. "Have a good night, sir," one of the officers said as they waved me through. I nodded in response. Then their radios crackled to life, giving news of my escape. Then they gave me a second look. I could see that they didn't suspect me, but I knew they would detain me as a matter of protocol, so I made my move: I dropped my disguise and ran. I heard them call out to me. Shots rang out, and I was hit, but I dove to safety under the wheels of a speeding ambulance. As the vehicle spirited me to safety, I laughed and lifted up my shirt: the paper towel had done it's job catching the bullets and its super absorbent properties nullified the force of being hit. I could finally relax and enjoy my ticket to freedom.	"Be back here at this location in one weeks time." I'd been through some very interesting challenges before, this was perhaps the most interesting. It was a test of how well I knew myself. There was a catch. I had to fool myself into going into the right direction. I'd shrugged when I heard that. I was good at connecting the dots as to why I did things later on. How big of a fool? "A pretty big one." I'd been told. That too, was part of it, I wasn't going to know how much I'd remember. How far would I have to go? "Never farther than you can believe you'd be able to get back here from." Cryptic. Well, I hadn't shied away from seeing how well I knew myself before, why not? \--- Where the fuck am I? How did I get here? "How much did I forget and what do I need to know to get to where I need to be?" Where am I going? \--- A planner? Why would I need one? Two books, a department store I rarely went to. Most curious of feelings, disagreeing on things I thought I'd agreed with myself about. \--- Day 3. I'm starting to understand. I don't know where I am, but someone is looking out for me. I can't make sense of it yet. Yesterday I wrote in my planner something I am going to do today and here I am ready to go do it. Such a simple request and I didn't know why I wrote it down. Perhaps I should give it a try and see what happens. \--- Day 5. Causality has been on my mind a lot lately. Why we do things, in what way. The way in which we need to lie to ourselves to figure out how to get to point A to point B. And when we're really honest about what we want. I've done things I hadn't thought I'd ever intend before and yet...understanding how we set goals for ourselves and how we get there has very much flipped for me. Wrong tools indeed. Right tools, wrong usage. \--- Evening time. It's been interesting, thinking of experiencing time in reverse. The subjective experience. How do I get back to the office when I need to? Because I know myself and I know where I'm need to get to. I might not know how exactly but I know I will. Breadcrumbs, intent, will, direction and choice. I'm writing the past simply by virtue of experiencing it. I can choose my own future. My intent, will and self can guide me to where I need to be, I still have a little to figure out. The question mark is the right tool when it needs to be, as is the exclamation mark. I trust myself to tell myself what I need to know, learn and remember along the way. \--- In the Kingdom of the Blind, the One Eyed Man is King. \--- Day 7 I'm early back to the office. "Welcome back. I see you really didn't go too far this time." I laugh. "No more than I needed to." I respond. I thought of how both statements were true and how they could possibly be false. We share a laugh. Things really were as literal as I could make them apparently. A thought. Everything really does happen for a reason. How would that be true, how could that be false? The last week blurred through my mind, causality. The past, cause and effect, intent and will. Here I am. I guided myself from the past, to now, through a possible future though I couldn't see it at the time. My partner saw the look on my face. I knew when I'd get on these trains of thought and I'd wanted to ride them as far as they could take me. On cue my stomach grumbled. I still had my moments of intellectual joy but I'd learned I needed to temper it with something more grounded. Am I hungry? Yes, I am. I'd figured out that all I needed to do was ask and opportunities would open. Would this one work? "How about lunch?" We ask each other.
	[WP] Your superpower: The ability to successfully do the job...with the wrong tool. (Optional - Your weakness: The inability to do so with the right tool for the job.)	It was 12:01 a.m. at the general hospital. Time to make my move. Using a mouthful of water, I was able to fake the signs of a crippling disease beyond the capabilities of the prison infirmary to treat, necessitating a need to be moved for treatment. When they served us dinner, I slyly hid the tools I needed to escape. I reached under my pillow for the handful of Jello. Lime, but it would have to do. It was still enough to pick my handcuffs. The easy part was over. I slowly, quietly cracked the door open. Outside, one of the guards that had been transporting me was posted, eyes staring away from the door. This would be tricky. I threw a cotton ball over his head to distract him. His head snapped to face it and he went over to investigate the commotion, I quickly slipped out and went the opposite direction. Navigating to the exit was easy. I thought I was home free until I spotted the uniformed officers waiting by the entrance. I pulled out the tiny wooden popsicle stick they had given me instead of a spoon. It made for a clever disguise. "Have a good night, sir," one of the officers said as they waved me through. I nodded in response. Then their radios crackled to life, giving news of my escape. Then they gave me a second look. I could see that they didn't suspect me, but I knew they would detain me as a matter of protocol, so I made my move: I dropped my disguise and ran. I heard them call out to me. Shots rang out, and I was hit, but I dove to safety under the wheels of a speeding ambulance. As the vehicle spirited me to safety, I laughed and lifted up my shirt: the paper towel had done it's job catching the bullets and its super absorbent properties nullified the force of being hit. I could finally relax and enjoy my ticket to freedom.	Ever since I was little I knew I had something special. I was the hero, I had an unhealthy obsession to be. Whenever anyone was in trouble I would always try and help. But I never could. When I was in 3rd grade a fire erupted in my chemistry class, the teacher fumbled around with the estinguisher and I just grabbed it and sprayed. Somehow I made fire come out of it instead, I was immediately expelled. After moving to a city I learned how to do things my way. If my engine brakes I have my handy typewriter in the back. A tree fell on my roof so I got up there and rubbed some honey on it and smoothed it right over. But I wanted to do more. I decided to become a cop, and put my gift to use. I made it up to swat, nobody could believe how quickly a rookie rose in the ranks so fast. I could breach any door with my toblerone, I could take down any perp by throwing my teddy bear Sgt. McClaws at them. But then I went to a bank robbery. It was standard procedure, we waited for the negotiator to handle the complicated stuff and we went in when he said. But then the robbers started firing. My best friend of 20 years got shot in the heart next to me. He was the best man at my wedding. As he died in my arms I looked at his gun. I wanted them to pay. I wanted to shoot the bastard that killed Alex. Now I'm paralyzed. I can't walk, I can't talk, I can barely take a shit. At least I have a cute nurse. Now I'm just alone with my thoughts, reliving my life. If only someone would help me rub some Jell-o on my spine I'd be good to go.
	[WP] Your superpower: The ability to successfully do the job...with the wrong tool. (Optional - Your weakness: The inability to do so with the right tool for the job.)	3:30 PM. It was about the time of day when the seamlessly smooth, relentless orchestra, that is the operating room, started to show its first signs of inefficiency and fatigue. It was when the perioperative staff, which included the room circulator, scrub nurse, medical device representatives, and countless others started to show their first signs of weariness. Given that they were paid by the shift, and not an indentured servant like myself, this was not an unforeseeable phenomenon. Once 4 PM rolled around, it was closing time - regardless of how many more hours remained in the case or how critical the next step was. "Stop, stop, STOP....Fuck." It was the first time my typically solemn and tight-lipped attending had spoken in many minutes. I knew Dr. Richardson as the chairman and leader of our ENT department - one of the most respected names in the fields. He had done over five thousand thyroidectomies in the past and had been practicing surgery for longer than I had been alive. A "dinosaur" as many senior surgeons were affectionately referred to in the field. I tried to come up with up with a better response in the moment. "Sorry Dr. Richardson, I thought that was just a bridging vein," or "My angle was a little off with the tonsil clamp" were probably appropriate options. Instead, all I could fathom up, was a single expletive - a phrase which many before have uttered when accidentally injuring the common carotid artery. "Fuck." However, there was something different about the situation, say compared to Mr. S - a 95 year-old previously radiated, cardiac patient who my chief resident had killed last year during a neck dissection. Yes, it was true the vessel I had injured was the highest pressure artery in the entire body and that a single tear had the propensity to propegate into the chest - an area which ENT surgeons were ill-trained to deal with. And furthermore, I knew that the human body had 6 liters of blood total and by the time of writing this, there was already 1.5 liters in the suction canister and another liter on our gowns and floor. However, despite this, I knew that this scenario was going to happen, rather it was guranteed. I was using a tonsil clamp on the jugular chain - the gold standard instrument for this surgery. At this point, the textbook response would have been to grab the suction and start yelling at the now wide-awake circulator to pull some vessel loops, debakey forceps, and 2-0 silk suture. Instead, to the shock of my attending, I grabbed the skin stapler. NOTE: Have to go to work, have a 7 AM start in the OR today. Will finish later! ;)	My wife and I had been trying to get pregnant for a long time. In my heart of hearts I knew it was a futile endeavor... I could never get the job done, not with my member. I don't know how I kept my power a secret from her for five years. Some of the unlikely feats I had pulled off to impress her were now preventing me from having my very own baby. For as long as we were married, my wife, Jeanine, just thought of her husband as being incredibly resourceful when it was just the boon that was bestowed upon me that stormy night in the abandoned Apple store. The only two other people who knew about it were my mom and my childhood friend Steve. I had waited long enough. Losing hope and becoming increasingly desperate to give my wife the joy of raising a family. Every month I saw her wilt a little more when she'd walk out of the bathroom with her bloodied panties. All those countless visits to the fertility center, the defeated looks on the doctors' faces as they couldn't find any cause. I couldn't see Jeanine like this anymore. It was time to set aside my own possessiveness and to use my power to bring a smile to her face no matter how much it hurt me. I knew what had to be done. I picked up the phone and dialed the number I knew off memory. "Hey Steve, old bud. I have a favor to ask of you..."
	[WP] Your superpower: The ability to successfully do the job...with the wrong tool. (Optional - Your weakness: The inability to do so with the right tool for the job.)	BANG, BANG A couple of gunshots were fired in the middle of a desert. "Jeez, w-what the hell man?!" said a man with a baseball cap. He looked terrified as a woman with a fishing vest awkwardly held the gun. "Just trust me, I know what I'm doing," she said. They've been stuck at this middle of nowhere for four hours by then. The car they were renting suddenly broke down and won't move at all. When the man tried to restart the engine, there were creaking noises coming from what seem to be one of the belt in the engine compartment. The man took out the toolbox from the boot and he opened up the bonnet, not that he knew what he was doing. They thought that something had overheated so she took out the WD-40 and sprayed one of the belts next to the engine. Instead of a cool down effect she was hoping for, the belt caught fire and he had to put out the fire with an extinguisher. He tried to spray the WD-40 around the same area again and , voila, no smoke. But even then, the car won't start and they spent hours looking down the bonnet. We definitely need to call someone soon was what the woman thought to herself. Sadly, there was no reception in this middle of nowhere. ... and yet after shooting the engine randomly, nothing looked off. The man took extra caution, but she insisted that he try starting the car again. As he argued against it, on the off-chance that something might explode or at least caught fire, she immediately turned the ignition on herself. BRRT BRRRT VROOM The sound of the engine revving up and running again was music to the both of them. It seem very unrealistic, but whatever she shot might've been the actual fix they needed. "Let's just go...," the man said with an exhausted look, "I don't wanna know how or what you did that but that was truly a miracle." She grinned in spite of his exhaustion and said, "Hope you won't be shooting up cars yourself though!" "Y-Yeah, I'll just hand you the gun and let you do the miracle, O' Blessed one!"	My wife and I had been trying to get pregnant for a long time. In my heart of hearts I knew it was a futile endeavor... I could never get the job done, not with my member. I don't know how I kept my power a secret from her for five years. Some of the unlikely feats I had pulled off to impress her were now preventing me from having my very own baby. For as long as we were married, my wife, Jeanine, just thought of her husband as being incredibly resourceful when it was just the boon that was bestowed upon me that stormy night in the abandoned Apple store. The only two other people who knew about it were my mom and my childhood friend Steve. I had waited long enough. Losing hope and becoming increasingly desperate to give my wife the joy of raising a family. Every month I saw her wilt a little more when she'd walk out of the bathroom with her bloodied panties. All those countless visits to the fertility center, the defeated looks on the doctors' faces as they couldn't find any cause. I couldn't see Jeanine like this anymore. It was time to set aside my own possessiveness and to use my power to bring a smile to her face no matter how much it hurt me. I knew what had to be done. I picked up the phone and dialed the number I knew off memory. "Hey Steve, old bud. I have a favor to ask of you..."
	[WP] Your superpower: The ability to successfully do the job...with the wrong tool. (Optional - Your weakness: The inability to do so with the right tool for the job.)	"But why mom?" "Because its the wrong way to do it,son" I listen back to the tape, again and again. My thoughts flow endlessly. Emotions slowly numbing down from my brain affecting the elderly couple near me. "Sir, She doesn't have much time left.. I'll take all responsibility, please help",pleaded the old man. lying down was a feeble woman, beyond help. Pale with no color in her eyes. The look that's ready to accept death. I cock the gun. The tape drowning out my nervousness as it keeps repeating. Maybe i can help. The only way i know, is the wrong way. "The way to save a life, is by taking it away."	"Mom", "Yes honey what do you want". "Why do people on tv shows eat cereal with a spoon and bowl? That's so weird. The milk and cereal would just fall off the sides. You need the spaces in the fork to hold it in place. Why doesn't the milk overflow when they use a bowl?" "Well you know TV, it's all fictional. They use special effects to make that work." Nobody could eat cereal with a spoon and bowl. They make it weird so it's interesting and full of surprises" "MOM! The banana is ringing!" "Hello. Yeah. Yeah. Ok. I'm sorry say that again, this banana is a bit overripe. I can't hear you clearly. Yeah I said banana. Why is that weird?
	[WP] Your superpower: The ability to successfully do the job...with the wrong tool. (Optional - Your weakness: The inability to do so with the right tool for the job.)	You'd think that the ability to use any tool to get the job done would be wonderful, even at the expense of the exactly right tool failing - I mean, there's like, tops, 5 'right' tools for any job, and literally thousands of 'wrong' tools, right? Have a job that revolves around fixing viruses on computers? Hit them with a fork. The virus scan then comes up clean. Need to build a new chair when you don't have anything resembling nails, and you've only got metal scraps? A fire extinguisher will do just fine - just spray the pile of scrap until you can't see anything, wait for the contents to disperse, and bam, chair. Your house catches fire? Go borrow a construction crane, and pull the house up and shake it a bit, and the fire's gone, just like that. &#x200B; But everyone forgets the basic rules for builders, the term 'builders' just being broad enough that it applies to pretty much everything. Or that it just applies to everything, but people just refer to it as the rules for 'builders' as a joke. To always use the right tool for the job. That the right tool for the job is a hammer. And that anything can be used as a hammer.	"Mom", "Yes honey what do you want". "Why do people on tv shows eat cereal with a spoon and bowl? That's so weird. The milk and cereal would just fall off the sides. You need the spaces in the fork to hold it in place. Why doesn't the milk overflow when they use a bowl?" "Well you know TV, it's all fictional. They use special effects to make that work." Nobody could eat cereal with a spoon and bowl. They make it weird so it's interesting and full of surprises" "MOM! The banana is ringing!" "Hello. Yeah. Yeah. Ok. I'm sorry say that again, this banana is a bit overripe. I can't hear you clearly. Yeah I said banana. Why is that weird?
	[WP] Your superpower: The ability to successfully do the job...with the wrong tool. (Optional - Your weakness: The inability to do so with the right tool for the job.)	“It’s not about the results, son,” my father said. “It’s about doing things the right way.” “What do you mean?” “It’s hard to explain…but even if you get the result you want sometimes, that might not happen again the next time. You might not get as lucky. If you do it the right way every time, you’ll be rewarded the same way, hopefully.” “I thought it’s about trying your best?” He shook his head, the first of many times he would repeat that gesture throughout my life. “You’ll see.” \- The referee could blow his whistle at any second. Coach called me over. “Get us a goal, kid.” “How?” He smiled. “You always seem to find a way.” His words don’t quite give me hope, or belief, but they make me realize I have to try. That’s how it always is for me in life. Don’t worry about how things will work out. Just do something. Anything more than nothing. I get the ball on the right, just past midfield. There is a bit of space, so I run with the ball. I’m not the fastest or best dribbler, but I do my best. I’m in the box now. Everyone is screaming. I look around. No teammates. Defenders closing in. I close my eyes, and kick as hard as I can… The ball goes horribly awry. It’s not even on target. But then it happens. A defender can’t quite slide out of the way in time, and it ricochets off him and into the goal! My teammates mob me. I take a second, and look up in the stands. My mom is jumping for joy along with everyone else, but all I can see is my dad, shaking his head… \- I think about that a lot. How they would all shake their head if they were to see how I operate. If the city could see how their hero stopped robberies by accidentally headbutting the lead robber and knocking both of us out, or prevented a suicide by falling off the building first and scaring the jumper off doing it, or any of the other mishaps-turned-miracles, would they still call me a hero? In the end, that doesn’t matter. Or at least that’s what I tell myself. With me there, doing something, I like to think things are better off. The kids are strong, just realizing how much they can bully and boss people around with their growing frames. “Hey,” I say. “He’s got nothing. Why rob a hobo?” They turn around, and smile when they see me. “Good point. We’ll do you instead.” I walk towards them, and then start to run at them when they do. I close my eyes, and I slip on the ice- And slide right into one of the goons. I hear a horrible crack, and when I look, his friends are trying to quiet his screaming, loading him up into a car, going away. I stand up, and walk towards the hobo. “Are you okay, sir?” “That was something,” he said. “Yeah. I’m sorry. I was trying to-“ “What are you apologizing for? Without you, I’d have nothing to eat tonight.” “I wish it didn’t have to happen that way.” He shrugs, and smiles. “But it did, didn’t it? And look at what happened. You scared those punks off. That’s all that matters, in my book.” I look at my jeans, wet and stained with the dirty ice. “Thanks,” I say. “That means a lot.” \- [r/penguin347](https://reddit.com/r/penguin347)	"Mom", "Yes honey what do you want". "Why do people on tv shows eat cereal with a spoon and bowl? That's so weird. The milk and cereal would just fall off the sides. You need the spaces in the fork to hold it in place. Why doesn't the milk overflow when they use a bowl?" "Well you know TV, it's all fictional. They use special effects to make that work." Nobody could eat cereal with a spoon and bowl. They make it weird so it's interesting and full of surprises" "MOM! The banana is ringing!" "Hello. Yeah. Yeah. Ok. I'm sorry say that again, this banana is a bit overripe. I can't hear you clearly. Yeah I said banana. Why is that weird?
	[WP] Your superpower: The ability to successfully do the job...with the wrong tool. (Optional - Your weakness: The inability to do so with the right tool for the job.)	“Excuse me, sir? We appreciate you pulling over to help us, so I really don't mean to be rude, but are you sure you know what you’re doing?” the young woman who had been driving asked me. “Oh yeah, dont you worry, I’ll have your engine back in working order in no time,” I replied In fairness, her concern was completely and totally justified. I was currently rubbing a croissant on her engine block like a madman, while bizarrely claiming it would somehow restore it to full working order. The male passenger in the car finally chimed in, “Dude, I know they sound alike, but isn't it like… a crescent wrench you need? Not a croissant?” “Shut it David! Do you or I know how to fix this? We’ve been sitting here for an hour hoping someone came by,” the woman scolded him. I put my head down self consciously and set back to ‘work’. Look, I have no goddamn clue how it started, but at some point I found I had the ability to solve any problem, so long as I did the exact opposite of my father's lifetime of advice and did not use ‘the proper tool for the proper job’. If it was a superpower then without a doubt embarrassment was my kryptonite. I had to balance my strong and genuine desire to help people with my willingness to look like a fool as I used a flamethrower to fix a wooden fence, a lava lamp to stop a guy mugging someone on the subway, or a hammer to mend a person’s broken heart. I’m not gonna lie, occasionally I just cant take the cringe factor and have to leave someone to fend for themselves. “Sir? Can you at least TRY this wrench set I found in the trunk?” the young man asked reasonably. I sighed, “Fine. Sure, but please… both of you stand back.” I touched the wrench to a random part of the engine and a massive bolt of electricity arced dramatically into the sky. Everyone's hair stood on end as we all jumped back in unison. “Jesus, careful man, you must have touched the battery somehow?” I’d been nowhere near the battery, but this kid didn’t know enough to be afraid of this tool in my particular hands. For as much as I could solve any problem with the worst possible tool, using the correct one for any given job could have disastrous consequences. I’d hoped that the little electrical light show my wrench had just put on would convince them to let me go back to doing things my way, but no such luck. They required more convincing, which was-- very unfortunate for all involved, but I didn’t see another way. I slowly moved the wrench toward the vehicle again, this time barely making contact with the outer surface of the car, at which point the entire front panel burst into flames. “Holy shit! Fire! Fire! Can car paint catch on fire? Err-- whatever! Fire! Anyone got a fire extinguisher? Anyone?!” the young lady shouted. I grabbed an extinguisher out of my truck but sheepishly handed it to her, “You’d uh… you’d better do this rather than me.” She actually seemed to grasp why my using a fire extinguisher to extinguish a fire would somehow be a terrible idea and she set to work. She put it right on target but the flames simply would not be fully beaten down. I ran to my truck and grabbed my child’s teddy bear out of the back seat. I rubbed it along the length of the flames and they immediately went out. Both of them now stared at me with jaws agape, a strange mixture of gratitude and utter confusion I’d seen hundreds of times before plastered on their faces. Finally, the young man spoke, “Uh sir? Here’s... here’s your croissant back… if you’re still willing to help us.” I nodded sheepishly and got back to work. Within 10 minutes I’d fixed whatever damage had originally caused their car to conk out and as well as mending any damage done by the fire. As I was chatting with the now happy couple I heard the police scanner in my truck chirp to life, “We’ve got a bank robbery in progress. Multiple suspects are armed and dangerous. Repeat, armed and considered very dangerous. All officers proceed with caution and wait for backup.” “I’m sorry kids, I’d love to stay and chat longer, but as you can hear, my assistance is needed elsewhere,” I told them as I walked back toward my truck, pulled a spatula from my belt and prepared for a fight. ___ r/Ryter &#x200B; Edit: Holy cow this totally blew up over night! All your positive reactions are quite overwhelming. Thank you very much for the gold but thanks just as much to everyone who left really nice feedback or comments. I only started writing any kind of fiction a few months ago so this is quite a morale boost to keep working at it! Edit 2: As requested I did try to continue this story below, I'm a bit wary of this premise becoming worn out quickly, but even if Part 2 and 3 suck, the original still exists to enjoy on its own : )	"Mom", "Yes honey what do you want". "Why do people on tv shows eat cereal with a spoon and bowl? That's so weird. The milk and cereal would just fall off the sides. You need the spaces in the fork to hold it in place. Why doesn't the milk overflow when they use a bowl?" "Well you know TV, it's all fictional. They use special effects to make that work." Nobody could eat cereal with a spoon and bowl. They make it weird so it's interesting and full of surprises" "MOM! The banana is ringing!" "Hello. Yeah. Yeah. Ok. I'm sorry say that again, this banana is a bit overripe. I can't hear you clearly. Yeah I said banana. Why is that weird?
	[WP] Your superpower: The ability to successfully do the job...with the wrong tool. (Optional - Your weakness: The inability to do so with the right tool for the job.)	"But why mom?" "Because its the wrong way to do it,son" I listen back to the tape, again and again. My thoughts flow endlessly. Emotions slowly numbing down from my brain affecting the elderly couple near me. "Sir, She doesn't have much time left.. I'll take all responsibility, please help",pleaded the old man. lying down was a feeble woman, beyond help. Pale with no color in her eyes. The look that's ready to accept death. I cock the gun. The tape drowning out my nervousness as it keeps repeating. Maybe i can help. The only way i know, is the wrong way. "The way to save a life, is by taking it away."	There's a certain irony to my life that isn't lost on me-- all the things I should be able to do, things typical people can do with ease, are impossible for me no matter how hard I try. They'd tell me to smile and keep at it, that I'd get there one day, but I knew none of it was true. I'm just made differently than they are, and it seems like they won't ever understand it. It took a while for me to realize that's okay. For quite some time, I wallowed in my woeful shortcomings, in the things I couldn't do because I was made differently than them, the things I couldn't be a part of. My friends would go out and have fun but I'd stay at home because I knew somehow, some way, the night would end up with my issues at the center. I would slip up and do something stupid, and they'd laugh, then they'd apologize and tell me to cheer up as if the words themselves would be enough to undo something woven into my very being. And then one day, like something of magic and movies, I met a woman who understood. "They always tell me it'll get better, and to cheer up," she told me the night we met, "but they don't understand that it's not that simple. I don't need to be told it'll be better, I need to be shown. I need someone to be there and just get it, not explain why I'm doing things wrong when I already know and beat myself up about it." I can't explain with words the way my heart suddenly felt like its holes had been patched. To meet someone that understood what I felt perfectly. She was my pillar, and I was hers. She taught me that it's not about trying to pretend I can learn to use things their intended ways, but about how I can find ways to misuse what I've been given to stumble my way through life. She showed me that it's okay to fuck things up, because we all do. It's human nature, hard-wired in us, and so is the fight to make things work anyway. I am broken, yes. I don't operate the same way you do. But, in the end, I still get there somehow, paving my own path through life's jungle-- even if it makes no sense to you. You make no sense to me, either. And that's perfectly fine, isn't it? ---- /r/resonatingfury

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