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kaiwewi · 4 months

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Once Upon a Christmas Mission

Secret Santa gift for @chaoticgoodthief Prompt: "Two people with opposite personalities falling in love and balancing each other out." Merry Christmas!! 🎅🎁

Synopsis: Supervillain gives her second in command a new mission. The job, (un)fortunately, comes with a new teammate.

“What do you make of this one?”

“The newbie?”

Frowning, they scanned the newspaper clippings Supervillain had spread out on the desk between them. The lack of enthusiasm on the journalists’ part was plain to see in the five unremarkable blocks of text with unimaginative titles. A small, slightly blurred image next to a short article on a mall robbery a month ago showed the grinning rookie villain dodging out of the way of some local hero’s attack. He held a fistful of jewellery in one hand and a hot dog in the other.

With an attitude like his, one could only wonder how the guy hadn’t been caught or killed yet.

They shrugged. “Amateur. Opportunist. Reckless. Flippant. More luck than brains.”

Supervillain hummed. She wore her impervious poker face. Everything about her posture and tone indicated disinterest. To so unnatural a degree, in fact, that it was fairly obvious she did have an agenda.

They internally groaned. This wasn’t going to end well, was it.

“Why are you asking?”

The corner of her lips twitched with something that might have been amusement at the audible unease in their question.

“No more than simple curiosity,” she said, clearly deflecting. “The other day, he approached me. Asked if we were hiring. Said he’d be eager to join us.”

Of course he would be. Any new villain in the area would grovel for a chance to work even a single job for Supervillain. Instant infamy by mere association. But the newbie’s audacity, bypassing the official procedures and approaching Supervillain directly…

“Ah, great. Reckless, flippant, and presumptuous.”

“So, you do not believe him promising?”

“Promising?” They made no effort to hide their scoff. “All I see is a liability.”

“Or a great asset, under the right person’s supervision.”

“You must be joking.”

That phantom of a smile on her face grew teeth. She was most definitely not joking.

“Surely you could utilise a versatile new piece on the board to its full potential, brilliant strategist that you are.”

“You know I don’t work well with unpredictable people.”

“You work fine with me, don’t you?”

She made that sound like casual banter; it smelled an awful lot like a trap.

“I don’t know why this newbie intrigues you so,” they said, weighing their words carefully, “but, and please pardon my bluntness, I do not want rogue pieces fucking with my game.”

“I’m afraid I need you to give him a chance,” she said as she produced a thin folder from the upper-most drawer of her office cabinet and slid it across the desk, “because I already hired him for this job I’m putting you in charge of.”

“Unbelievable! You could have asked me first.”

She should have asked them first.

“You would have said no.”

Damn right, they would have.

She gestured at the folder. “Christmas Eve. Your target is the Downtown Museum’s special End of the Year Exhibition. Can I count on you?”

Always. And she bloody well knew it too.

They heaved a heavy sigh.

“Fine. One chance. But I swear, if he fucks up…”

***

In the end, as irony would have it, when their meticulously crafted plan did fall to pieces, it wasn’t the newbie who’d fucked up.

He, against their admittedly low expectations, had listened most attentively, had carried out his orders diligently, hadn’t so much as offered a single sign of a contrary disposition. He’d checked in every other minute to report his position, had followed the exact route he’d been assigned at the exact pace they’d agreed upon.

So, as they guided him and the rest of the team through the first stage of their plan – getting everyone inside the museum undetected – they’d had to begrudgingly admit to themself that the only thing that stood out about the newbie was his annoying enthusiasm for doing a fantastic job.

And then, just when they’d started to think that maybe this would be another flawless operation after all, one of their field operatives, Tempest, reported in.

“—s….hing’s wrong. Sec..ity guard in Sector E. Hav. ..en spotted. Abort—”

Her voice cut off. Replaced by nothing but eerily crackling white noise.

It didn’t make any sense. How was there a guard in Sector E? They’d done the maths. They’d checked everything, countless times. Security wasn’t supposed to be in Sector E for at least another 10 minutes.

Not that it made much of a difference now that their cover had been blown.

Abort operation…?

Really the only viable option at this point. But that was unprecedented. There’d been hiccups on other missions, sure, but they’d never had to call for a full hasty retreat before.

Supervillain would be so disappointed.

But they had to. By the looks of it, they’d lost one operative already. They had to get the rest of the team out. This was their responsibility. Their fault. They had to do something before—

“Reporting in,” the newbie’s voice rasped from the radio. “This is Ghost. Current position: Sector E, entrance to Stairwell 4. Assisted Tempest. She is unharmed. But the security guard escaped. And he is not one of the regular crew. I repeat, the security guard is not one of the regular crew.”

Different security. Why was there different security?

They sucked in a breath that hardly made it past their throat and did nothing to relieve them of the tightness in their chest. Then they picked up the radio, and faltered.

Which of the escape routes was least likely to be compromised? It had to be an exit point everyone was able to reach. And quick. That security guard must have raised the alarm by now.

Precious seconds ticked away.

“Exit Strategy B,” they croaked. “I repeat, Exit Strategy B. Abort operation.”

***

A mere 40 minutes after their first failed mission – hardly enough time to begin to come to terms with how badly they’d fucked up, let alone recompose themself – the newbie found them sulking at the little table in the corner of the HQ’s staff kitchen.

If he’d seen them hastily brush some wetness from the corners of their eyes as he entered the room, he didn’t let it show on his face. Instead, he wordlessly walked over and set a tray of cookies down next to their still untouched cup of black coffee.

They couldn’t bring themself to contemplate where he’d found those and they didn’t particularly feel like eating anything either. They took a cookie regardless.

“Great hiding spot,” the newbie said after a moment of tense silence. “Took me forever to find you.”

That’s because they hadn’t wanted to be found.

“What do you need?” they said, speaking more to their coffee than him.

“Nothing. But I’ve got something for you; thought it might be able to lift your spirits.”

Yeah, not bloody likely.

“No thank you.”

“Why not?”

Because they didn’t deserve cheering up.

“I messed it all up,” they said, and it felt like too much of an answer. Too raw. Too honest.

Their voice shook horribly. Pathetic.

“Nah, that was bad luck. Your plan was genius.”

“My plan failed.”

“You got everyone in and out.” He offered a loathsomely genuine reassuring smile. “That the museum spontaneously hired a different security team sucks. Not your fault though. No one could have seen that coming.”

They listlessly stirred their coffee with their cookie and laughed bitterly as it broke apart and disintegrated. Just like their plan. Nothing but lukewarm wet mush.

“I should have considered the possibility. I should have had another contingency plan. You don’t understand, do you? Knowing things, anticipating events, is my job. What good am I to my team when I can’t ever acquire crucial information? I almost got Tempest arrested.”

“But she wasn’t arrested.”

“No thanks to me.”

“You weren’t there,” he said, and somehow made it sound soothing rather than accusatory.

A beat of silence in which they forced another shallow breath into their lungs.

They wanted to scream. But they had to keep their frustration in check, be professional. The newbie didn’t deserve this kind of treatment. None of this was his fault. He’d done great. Without him there…

“Thank you,” they said on the exhale.

“We are a team, you know. You do the research, prepare the operation, brief us. You find us a safe way in and out.” As he spoke, the newbie scooped up a ridiculous number of cookies from the tray. “You’re not a field operative like Tempest and me. Reacting to unexpected events and new information in the field is our job,” he said kindly, then unceremoniously dumped the entire handful of cookies into his mouth.

Like this was coffee and cake at grandma’s and not him obligingly turning a blind eye to the fact his team leader was about to have a most unprofessional breakdown in front of him.

Gosh, it was so very hard not to judge him for his table manners. It was so ridiculous it almost startled a laugh out of them despite everything.

“For what it’s worth—” they tried for a small apologetic smile “—you did do a splendid job out there. I’ll make sure to inform Supervillain about that. I know how eager you were to work with her. I cannot imagine she’ll be best pleased when we turn up empty-handed … but I’ll do what I can to ensure this mess doesn’t reflect badly on you.”

Hazel eyes watched them closely while the newbie chewed and swallowed audibly. He licked the residue powdered sugar off his lips, off the tips of his fingers. The slight creases lining the outer edges of his lower eyelids bestowed a slightly impish quality to his gaze.

The only prominent lines on their own face were those born of frowns and brooding.

His was the face of someone accustomed to grins, smirks, and laughter.

He wasn’t grinning now, of course, but …

They’d expected him to be upset. Disappointed. Anxious, perhaps, that he might have lost his one chance to impress Supervillain. But, if anything, he appeared clad in an air of nervous excitement.

“Soooo,” he drawled, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Speaking of Supervillain … I was wondering. Why didn’t you tell us what we were to steal for her? Why weren’t we supposed to know until we reached Gallery 5?”

“No particular reason,” they said, careful to temper the displeasure creeping into their tone. “It was information you didn’t require prior to reaching the target location.”

The newbie pulled a face and visibly bit back what would have undoubtedly been a snide comment. Instead, he asked, “yeah okay, but what was it?”

“Hardly matters now, does it.”

“Actually, I really think it does.”

They scrubbed a hand down their face, sighed. “How so?”

“Say, what if—” he stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets and lifted his shoulders in a shrug “—I had, hypothetically speaking, ignored your final order, made a breezy lil detour, and used Exit Strategy A instead of B?

“And what if,” he continued, “I had, hypothetically speaking, grabbed a couple souvenirs along the way?” He gave them a sheepish look as he pulled his hands back out of his pocket, producing two messy piles of tangled jewellery and trinkets that he placed on the table between them. “Because, confession time: I did.”

And there it was, amidst all the precious metals and all the valuable stones, their target – the ancient, allegedly cursed, Amulet of the Mothers’ Sorrow.

All they managed was a choked, breathless laugh. Their head swam with so many questions and yet they couldn’t seem to locate enough words to form a single sentence.

The newbie began answering the most pressing of them – HOW!? – without prompting.

“Well. When I pulled that guard off of Tempest, I noticed that shiny keycard hanging right there on his belt, and … I nicked it. Just couldn’t help myself. Grabbed his communicator too. Also wanted to knock the guy out, but he got away.” He made a small disgruntled noise, followed by a snort. “But then the idiot ran down Corridor 14. Like, I don’t think he was even familiar with the museum’s layout.

“Anyway, I figured I’d have at least 4 minutes before he’d find the next phone or reach another guard. And even if he found a panic button, security would still have to regroup first. And with access to the staff elevator … reaching Gallery 5 would take me, maybe, 2 minutes at best. And there I’d already be in the perfect position to use Exit Strategy A.

“Long story short: I know a worthwhile opportunity when I see it. Of course—” and here his voice gained an unmistakable edge “—I hadn’t been told what exactly I was supposed to steal. So I had no choice but to stuff whatever I thought were the most likely candidates into my pockets, hit or miss, and make a run for it.”

He made a vague gesture encompassing his loot.

“Did I get the right one?”

“I—” They cleared their throat and reached for the dark amulet – a filigreed pattern, seemingly liquid, a mercury river delta, against a background of polished onyx – on a necklace with a rich green cord woven through a silver chain, and untangled it from the other treasures. It was so pleasantly warm still from when he’d carried it in his pocket, on his person. His body heat seeping into the palm of their hands as they cradled the amulet to their chest.

They could have cried. Or kissed him.

“Yeah,” they said, barely above a whisper.

“Well then,” he offered, amiably, “lucky you. And maybe next time just tell the rest of us what it is we’re going after.” A grin tugged on their new favourite teammate’s lips. “Merry Christmas.”

The newbie took a bow, turned with an exaggerated flourish, and, humming a festive tune, strolled off towards the exit.

They stared after him, transfixed.

On the doorstep, with the door already opened, he stopped and looked back over his shoulder.

“By the way,” he said, “you got it wrong. Supervillain’s cool all right. But it isn’t her I’m eager to work with.”

~~~

Epilogue: New Christmas Traditions

“How’s the plan for this year’s Christmas operation coming along, darling?”

Their partner came up behind them, slung his arms over the back of their office chair and around their shoulders, and let his upper body go slack. As he nuzzled against the crook of their neck, he leaned on them like a particularly heavy but not at all uncomfortable scarf.

“Almost done.” They scanned the markings they’d made on the map covering half their desk. “I know how to get us inside. Currently working on how to get us out afterwards.”

“My criminal mastermind. Always gotta have at least 3 escape routes.” Their partner chuckled, somewhere between fond and mischievous, and started walking his fingers slowly down their chest.

“I prefer ‘exit strategies,’” they said, and caught him by the wrists before he got the chance to fully launch his tickle attack. “The word ‘escape’ implies opposition or pursuit. Ideally – assuming a certain someone’s antics don’t negatively affect the quality of my work – we’ll encounter neither.” Nevertheless, they turned their full attention to him now. “But should something ever not go according to plan,” they murmured into his hair, “I know I can always rely on my partner’s quick wit and nerves of steel.”

He pressed a kiss below their ear. “Damn right. Those heroes will never catch us.”

“Partners in crime.”

They shared a hearty laugh and a few seconds of tranquillity.

Then they gestured towards a booklet half-hidden beneath a stack of documents. The catalogue of the current target’s exhibits. “Have you had a chance to compile your wish list yet?”

“Nah,” their partner said, “I think I’d like it to be a surprise. I’ll know which ones I want when I see them. You?”

“I have picked a few favourites.”

“Perfect,” he purred. “You can tell me all about them over dinner. I made lasagna.”

“Perfect,” they echoed.

And that he was indeed: absolutely perfect.

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thepenultimateword · 2 years

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Prompt #49

When Villain was finally released from their holding cell, Superhero was waiting for them.

The long limbed do-gooder pushed casually off the wall they were draped against, stretching their slender arms over their head and sauntering carefully across the waiting room to Villain’s gaping self.

They got within inches, tipping their head down to shoot that infuriating smile directly into their face. “You’re a little troublemaker, aren’t you.”

Villain bristled. “What are you doing here?”

Superhero only smiled wider. “I bailed you out.”

“But Henchman—“

“Is indisposed.”

Villain’s stomach lurched. “What happened? Are they ok?”

“Just fine. They ran into some trouble with my colleagues on their way here, but I got them somewhere safe.”

Villain shrank back a little, bumping into the officer behind them.

“I-I don’t believe you. Why are you doing this?”

Superhero shrugged. “It’s been a while since we got a new face on the scene. Certainly one as cute as yours.”

#hero x villain #superhero x villain #heroes and villains #writing snippet #creative writing #heroes and villains community #could be toxic #could be fluff #you decide #flirty hero #prompt #writing prompt #short prompt #rookie villain

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see-arcane · 1 year

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Dracula then, fresh from tormenting Jonathan for funsies for two months, leaving the castle to menace England, abandoning the poor solicitor to get undeaded by his girlboss roommates: Ha! This is great for me. I’m sure none of these actions will have consequences.

Dracula now, after Jonathan Hulk-tosses him off the cart, pries the box open, and swings that kukri down like a handheld guillotine:

#classic Bond villain rookie move #you make SURE Jonathan gets drinked by your roomies before you leave the castle #dracula #jonathan harker #dracula daily

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yourheartonfire · 1 year

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An assassin with a speciality in dispatching super powered beings is hired to protect a blossoming rookie whose power, once properly trained, is predicted to turn the tides of the hero-villain conflict. (Bonus if they’ve also been hired by a separate party or kill them, and they’re unsure which order to follow through with)

Prompt courtesy of @thepenultimateword !

"Breath," the Assassin suggested, eyeing the rookie uncertainly as they quickly gathered up their knives out of their opponents. Their former opponents.

"I'm breathing," the Rookie wheezed, hands gripping their knees. "I've checked. Definitely breathing. My god, your hands. They're all- all-"

The Assassin wiped the blood off on their pants and hauled the Rookie close with their offhand. The attackers were down but who could say if that wasn't just the first wave?

"You need to transport us out of here," they murmured to the Rookie. "Can you do that?"

The Rookie locked their arms around the Assassin's neck. "I couldn't hurt them," they gasped. Their breath, hot against the Assassin's throat, was somehow still speeding up. "I'm sorry, I couldn't use the power-"

"And that was the right choice," the Assassin said with total and honest conviction. They'd seen the Rookie in training. From three clicks away. In a bunker. "You're not a weapon yet, kid. But you are our exit." Shadows moved in suspicious patterns. The Assassin chucked their empty clip, slammed in the next one from their belt one-handed. Stay calm. "Breath, kid. Think of somewhere safe and take us-"

The world warped around them. For a horrible moment the Assassin felt themselves stretch and warp too - and then the world snapped back into a new shape.

The Assassin and the Rookie tumbled to a softly carpeted floor. The dim room came into focus: a rug, looped with letters and numbers. Colorful walls, low shelves filled with baskets of toys and picture books...

"A preschool?" The Assassin sat up. It was dark here too but a pre-dawn, peaceful kind of dark.

The Rookie's breath was slowing, finally, their nose pressed to the gritty fibers. "Daycare," they said.

The Assassin started to reach for them - then thought better of it. They stood and made for the tall, adult sized cabinets. Wet wipes got the rest of the blood off, then there was a full first-aid kit and bags of emergency food. Now they returned to the Rookie with their prizes, smelling of disinfectant.

"Drink," they said, dropping a couple juice boxes on the Rookie's head. "Are you hurt? There's Pokémon bandages."

"Ow," the Rookie muttered but took a box. For a moment they both sucked down apple juice in silence. The Assassin made a mental note - daycares and preschools as makeshift safe houses, while figuring out how to hide their tracks - stage an animal break-in to the food? - when the Rookie cleared their throat.

"You didn't have to - why did you -?"

"I didn't have to kill them?" the Assassin guessed. They took the silence as yes. "Definitely did. Those weren't muggers, that was two of Supervillain's mid powered killers. You noticed how they were trying to kill you?"

"That's not how heroes fight!" The Rookie pushed up to their feet stubbornly. They didn't look particularly steady. "We fight to incapacitate, to defend."

"Maybe that's why your hero squad hired me to watch you," the Assassin said.

The Rookie's mouth opened and closed as they worked that one over in their head. "You think they hired you to... to send a message?" they said quietly.

The Assassin tossed the bag of boxed raisins and cheap granola bars at the Rookie's chest and let themselves collapse onto a pile of gym mats. "Shouldn't happen again anytime soon," they said gruffly. "(Supervillain)'s gonna have a harder time finding volunteers for the next kill squad..." Then their stupid, tired brain actually heard what the Rookie had just said. They sat up fast enough to make the kid flinch. "What do you think they hired me for?"

"In case I..." The Rookie's eyes dropped. "Well. In case something goes wrong..."

With me, was the unspoken end of that sentence. The Assassin's stomach gave another lurch.

"Just cause they pay me to do bad things doesn't mean I'd do anything for money," the Assassin snapped.

Another long silence. The Rookie's eyes widened slight, but they were smart enough to say nothing. The Assassin lay back, closed their eyes again. "We're both stressed and sore," they said. "Let's take a rest before we call for ground transport out of here. I suggest - no, I recommend that this conversation never happened."

The Assassin let the exhaustion take them. When they woke a few hours later, the Rookie was clearing up the last of the medical supplies.

"Let's go home," they said, face guarded, but their hand in Assassin's was warm and the squeeze real. The Assassin nodded and let the Rookie carry them back.

It was going to be really hard to keep lying, and more and more, the Assassin was realizing maybe, maybe, they could find a way to avoid it...

They were never taking a bodyguard gig again.

#my fiction #hero x villain #hero x Assassin #rookie x expert #filled prompt #thepenultimateword

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blanddcheadcanons · 2 months

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Lego DC super villains head cannon.

The Rookie hates lex no matter the ending.

But instead of confronting him about it they send him anniversary cards for when they were stranded on Apocalypse.

‎

#lego dc super villains #rookie #apokolips

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chaotic-orphan · 5 months

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Could you do a story where a guard of a Supermax prison befriends a supervillain, because he treats him like a genuine human being instead of an animal; and later, all the power-dampeners suddenly fail; and all these villains just revolt against the guards; but supervillain makes sure he’s safe since he was always kind to him?

I apologize if you don’t take asks, I wasn’t sure!!

I absolutely take asks! It’s confusing because I made Orphan a secondary blog by accident, and I don’t think the ask shows up but please don’t be afraid to send them!

This looks fun thank you very much!

*~*~*~*~*

When Superhero brought Supervillain to the Supermax prison, Jack and Rufus were on duty to bring Supervillain to his specially made holding cell. Fabricator had been in the Daedalian all week, making sure that Supervillain’s cell would hold him for his entire sentence.

Rufus was impatient after getting word from Superhero that Supervillain was apprehended and on route to secure him in the Daedalian.

The prison was called the Daeds colloquially, or at least that’s what Jack and everyone around him had always called it. The Daeds, not a very terrifying name but its idea was that the prison was like the labyrinth that Daedalus made in Greek mythology, keeping the minotaur at bay. Or in this case: keeping the Villains away from the rest of society and keeping the rest of society away from the Villains.

��Do I look okay?” Rufus asked for the seventh time since Superhero’s warning. He was sitting at the reception desk while Jack stood behind the reception desk, arms folded leaning against the wall, eyes focused on the doors.

“You look fine,” said Jack without looking at him.

“We’re going to meet Superhero; I want to make a good impression.”

“I’m sure Superhero will have other things on his mind than to notice you,” said Jack, voice dry and mocking. Rufus turned in his seat to throw a glare Jack’s way.

“I know you’re new here, Rookie,” said Rufus, knowing Jack hated the name, “So let me give you some advice if you don’t want to be a Rookie for the rest of your life. Superhero sees talent and professionalism as commodities and if you get on his good side then you get promoted.”

“Oh yeah?” Jack asked, raising his brows, taking his eyes off the door and looking at Rufus.

“Yeah,” Rufus said, a superior smile gracing his ugly, rat-like face.

“How’s that working out for ya?”

Jack suppressed a smile when the insult landed on Rufus’s ears. He opened to his mouth to argue back but stopped at the noise. Jack’s eyes went to the doors as they heard the familiar buzz of the prison doors, followed by commotion.

Rufus’s retort was lost on his lips as he straightened, standing up to greet their guests. Even Jack fixed his uniform before the double doors opened in front of them.

Sidekick came in first, tall, skinny, face hidden behind a mask that covered his mouth. Jack couldn’t remember his power but could tell from the way they held himself that Sidekick wasn’t one to be messed with.

Maybe the superiority came with the job description as Superhero’s assistant.

“Hello, Superhero will bring Supervillain in in a moment. They told me to warn you again, not to look Supervillain in the eyes.”

“Of course, Sidekick,” Rufus said, bowing his head solemnly.

Jack tilted his head. “Doesn’t Supervillain have power dampeners on?”

Sidekick looked back at Jack, eyes narrowing slightly at being questioned.

“Always good to be cautious,” said Sidekick coldly.

“Of course, Sidekick. You are absolutely right. You will have to excuse Rookie here, they are new.”

“Right. This is the way things are, Rookie,” said Sidekick with a roll of his eyes.

“My name’s Jack,” said Jack flatly. “Maybe with you heroes this is the way things are, yeah. However, in the Daeds your job is done, respectfully, Sidekick. We’ll handle things our way.”

“Jack!” Rufus chided, and at this point Jack didn’t care anymore. If Sidekick was going to be rude, then Jack could be too.

Sidekick narrowed his eyes further at Jack’s comment but couldn’t speak further on the matter when the doors opened again, and Superhero walked in.

A hush fell over the room. Superhero had a hand on Supervillain’s elbow as they escorted him in. They both looked like shit, but Supervillain was definitely the worse off of the pair. Jack noticed the Sentinels from the permitter of the prison follow behind.

Two stayed on the other side of the door, two more followed Supervillain and Superhero inside, standing like statues with guns ready to fire at any point. Their faces covered by visors, and Jack wasn’t entirely sure they were human, but they gave them the creeps, nonetheless.

Jack noticed Rufus bow his head and make a point of not looking directly at Supervillain, but Jack stared at his ruffed-up face as they entered. Supervillain’s face was covered in bruises, some an old, fading green like the one on his jaw, and the newer ones angrier looking, a mix of purple, blues and reds.

Blood was crusted on Supervillain’s upper lip and chin from what Jack could only imagined came when Superhero broke Supervillain’s nose. The broken nose and busted lip and blood trails only added to Supervillain’s already roguish appearance. A devil-may-care smile made its way onto his lips when he saw Rufus bow his head on Superhero’s command.

His grey eyes widened slightly when he met Jack’s, and he tilted his head slightly, smile growing more bemused than smug.

“Hello Rufus, good to see you. Have all the arrangements been made for the security of Supervillain like I asked?”

“Yes, Superhero. Uh good to see you too! All requirements for, um, the prisoner’s cell have been fulfilled.”

“Marvellous,” Superhero sighed, then nodded at Rufus. “If you will show me the way I can escort him.”

“Of course, Superhero,” said Rufus, grabbing the keycard from behind the desk and nodding. “Right away, Superhero.”

“Actually— “said Jack without thinking, and then instantly regretted it when all eyes turned on them. Two pairs unfriendly, one set tired, and one set of eyes curious, surprised even. “The protocol is you sign in the prisoner here and we take it from there.”

Supervillain suppressed a laugh, lips curling in on themselves as he turned his head away with a slight breathy huff.

Superhero cocked an eyebrow, glancing from Jack to Rufus for an explanation. Rufus was instantly at Jack’s side, slapping him on the arm.

“Forgive them, Superhero… they— “

“They’re new,” informed Sidekick curtly.

Superhero blinked. “I— okay? Nice to meet you, we can discuss this further after I have made sure that Supervillain is secured.”

“I’m afraid I can’t let you beyond this point,” said Jack, standing his ground. “No member of the public— “

“I am not just a member of the public,” Superhero interjected, more confused than angry. Although Jack noted, Sidekick’s stare had enough hatred in his gaze for them both. “I am— “

“Not just a member of the public,” said Jack coolly, cutting them off, “but a member of the public no less. Unless you are officially authorised— “

“Of course, they are officially authorised,” Rufus said through gritted teeth.

Jack shrugged. “Sorry, I just didn’t see any papers. I have no problem letting you through if you have the authorisation, Superhero.”

Supervillain let out a squeak before he swallowed the rest of his chuckle.

It was Sidekick who answered: “call the Mayor, she’ll give the authorisation.”

“Not political authorisation. Legal authorisation.”

Superhero was starting to grow more tired by the minute. “Listen, kid— “

“Officer,” Jack supplied helpfully.

Superhero grit his teeth at being cut off again. “Officer, I always bring in Villains. I understand there is a need to prove yourself, however— “

“However, section 38 of the regulatory arrests by Heroes act says that in regard to the apprehension of Villains, and or, Supervillains, by a Hero, and or Superhero, a Hero will be permitted to bring a Villain into the custody of [Supermax prison].”

“So let them in,” said Sidekick, but Jack just smiled at them.

“You are permitted only to bring a Villain into the custody of the Daeds. However, I realise you want to bring Supervillain into the cell and make sure he is secured. In that case, I assume that you have an order pursuant to section 38, paragraph 3A.”

Superhero blinked at Jack, while Sidekick stepped forward threateningly. “Do you know how long of a day we’ve had? Just forego the fucking Heroes Arrest Act and let us through.”

Jack’s eyes were cool when they found Sidekick’s blue ones that were blazing with hellfire. Jack stepped forward, matching Sidekick’s stance, and thankfully he was roughly the same height as Sidekick otherwise it would have been awkward.

“I’m afraid this is a prison, Sidekick. Laws apply here. I can’t just disregard statute, and unlawfully allow you to enter to satisfy your tantrum. Unless you want me to authorise everyone to be allowed entry to the most secure prison in the country?” Sidekick’s jaw set hard, but they were the first to look away and step back slightly. Jack turned his attention back to Superhero who was far more amiable.

“I am assuming by Sidekick’s anger that you don’t have the proper authorisation to bring Supervillain further. I will take Supervillain off your hands and make sure they are secured and properly handled under our care. You have my word. Rufus, here, will take care of the proper paperwork you have to sign,” Jack said, taking a bit of joy in Sidekick’s furious helplessness.

Superhero, who looked like shit too, just nodded, rubbing their temple at the many, many words Jack was spouting. To be honest, they didn’t want to sign paperwork. They just wanted to get home and have a long hot shower. Order a takeaway. Relax.

“Okay,” said Superhero with a nod. “We’ll do that. Stand down, Sidekick.”

“But— “

“We can talk to the mayor, tomorrow,” said Superhero, staring at Jack with a measured gaze and a neutral expression.

“Give the Mayor my best,” said Supervillain casually as Superhero handed Supervillain over to Jack.

“He’s your problem now,” said Superhero. “Good luck.”

Jack nodded at Superhero, then turned and brought Supervillain through to processing. Only after the doors closed with a loud beep did Jack let out a breath, he didn’t know he was holding.

“Very bold of you to stand up to Superhero,” Supervillain mused, voice teasing. “What was your name again, Officer?”

“I didn’t give it,” Jack said with a shrug.

Supervillain hummed. “Of course, what is your name then Officer?”

“Officer will do just fine,” Jack replied curtly, heart hammering against his chest.

“Of course, Officer. And is your background in law, or do you just like to know your rights?”

“I’d prefer if we didn’t talk about me if it’s all the same to you.”

Supervillain went quiet for a moment. Then said, “alright. You’re a smart one, never give anything for free.”

“It’s just not professional,” Jack said after a hesitant pause. Why did he feel he needed to explain his behaviour to Supervillain of all people?

“Of course, I understand Officer. I’m guessing I never killed anyone belonging to you since you’re very calm and collected in my handling. Unlike Sidekick.”

Jack clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “I’d prefer if you stopped trying to get me to talk to you, Supervillain.”

Supervillain went very tense under Jack’s hand and Jack was sure that Supervillain was going to strangle him there and then. Then, Supervillain relaxed and nodded.

“I can respect that, Officer.”

That was it.

Supervillain didn’t speak again, didn’t put up a fuss or plead or try and persuade Jack to free him. He didn’t make another offer or attempt to start a conversation. He followed all the procedures up to, and including, taking his cuffs off when he was in the cell.

“This place…” Supervillain said, a shiver running down his spine. “It’s strange. Unnatural. With the power dampeners you can still feel your power underneath them, trying to escape but here— I just feel empty.”

Supervillain looked at Jack through the bars, grey eyes apologetic as he spoke. “I’m sorry. I just— I talk a lot. It’s strange.”

“I’ll bring by dinner and get the Doctor to fix you up in a while.”

“Thank you, Officer.”

Jack didn’t say anything to that as he left. He didn’t know how to respond and even if he did what would he say?

I’m sorry you’re uncomfortable?

This is what you get for the blood on your hands?

Neither of them seemed satisfactory to Jack so he left the room in silence. Leaving Supervillain’s words of gratitude lingering on the air.

*~*~*~*~*

Rufus didn’t talk to Jack for a few days after “embarrassing” them in front of Superhero and Sidekick. Jack honestly wished he knew how to get Rufus to shut up sooner, or he would’ve done it weeks ago.

Alastair laughed when Jack told him the story in the locker room two days later. Alastair was pulling on his steel toed boots, sitting on the bench in the middle of the locker room while Jack buttoned up the shirt of his uniform.

“Damn, kid,” he said in his rough, northern accent. “I don’t know if I would have done that.”

Jack furrowed his brows. “What do you mean?”

Alastair shrugged and said: “Superhero is a powerful enemy to have.”

“Superhero didn’t really have the problem; it was more Sidekick.”

“Same difference.”

“How?” Jack asked. “The law is the law. I can’t bend the rules for the superhero who seeks to enforce them.”

“I’m not saying you should. I’m just saying you’re braver than I am.”

Jack smiled at that, as he pulled his tie from his locker and wrapped it around his neck.

“Well, that makes sense. Your bones old and weary now.”

“I can still beat you in a fight ya wee shit,” Alastair said without hesitation. Jack let out a loud, bold laughter at that, and Alastair joined in soon after.

*~*~*~*~*

Alastair got off the phone later that same day and let out a sigh. Jack was just coming back from his lunch, and when Alastair’s eyes landed on him, he beamed with a devilish glint in his eyes.

“Chef doesn’t want to give Supervillain his food,” said Alastair.

Jack wrinkled his nose at that. “Why?”

“Afraid he might hex them or something. Said he can’t afford to be fired if he tries to stab one of us later.”

“Just tell him that his powers don’t— “

Alastair waved Jack away. “Ya can’t explain all that high spec shit to the superstitious small-town folk, Jack. The only reason there’s a small town here is because the Daeds makes jobs, and jobs mean people and people mean towns and schools and — “

“So, what, did Supervillain not even get breakfast?” Jack asked, incredulous. Alastair shook his head with a resigned “Nope.”

“Fuck. Well…”

“That’s what I said too, Jack,” Alastair said with a mischievous grin. “I told Chef it’s fine. Jack is immune to Supervillain’s powers and that you’ll bring him his meals every day.”

“Everyday? I don’t work seven days, Alastair.”

“I guess he’ll starve then when you’re out, won’t he?”

Jack glared at Alastair. Then shook his head and sighed. “I’ll arrange something with Chef for when I’m not working. Maybe double up on meals or something.”

“God damn, kid,” Alastair grinned, beaming his handsome smile at Jack. “You just solve all my problems.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jack said, waving him off as they headed for the Supermax ward of the Daedalian. “You just sit here and rest, wouldn’t want you breaking something if you had to actually work.”

“Come back and say that to my face,” Alastair threatened as Jack swiped his card to the iron bolt doors.

“Get hearing aids, old man.”

Alastair quipped something back, but the door had closed in that time leaving Jack alone in the hallway that connected the reception desk to the Supermax ward.

The closest ward to the Guard’s hut, and consequently, the Sentinels. Jack had to pass them at every corner once they got into Maximum Security. The cold, unfeeling things, always staring vacantly through his visors down at Jack.

Maybe they would bring Supervillain his food on Jack’s days off.

The thought of speaking to one of the sentinels scared Jack more than Supervillain starving to death on his watch. So, Jack would have to figure out something else.

*~*~*~*~*

Supervillain’s cell was locked behind locked door on locked door, on a locked ward from a locked corridor and buried under 50 feet of concrete. If there was any signal going awry in the prison, Fabrikator would know and would be alerted with her strange power that there was a fault and come fix it.

The best repair woman to have around, but her eyes were always a little to the left of you in a conversation, like she was seeing things that normal people didn’t.

When the final doors opened up to get into Supervillain’s cell, Jack took a breath then walked in. The door closed and locked behind Jack and couldn’t be opened from this side anyway. He had to wait for the person at the desk to buzz them out.

Supervillain was sitting on his bed at the back of the cell. His grey eyes found Jack’s and they smiled. His colour was better, his face a little less bruised. Now just more swollen than sore looking.

“I thought you were going to starve me,” said Supervillain, voice dry and crackling from disuse.

“Oh, we are,” said Jack, and Supervillain froze. “This is my lunch. I just thought I’d torture you with it.”

Supervillain raised his eyebrows, questioning how stupid they look at moving to stand from the bed. “I— “

“I’m just joking,” Jack said, smiling and walking over to the bars of the cell. “Sorry. The chef is superstitious. Afraid you’re going to control his mind and make them do awful things.”

“Who can blame them, really,” said Supervillain. His tone was self-deprecating, but behind it, Jack detected something sad. He pushed the tray through the hole in the bars, and Supervillain took it. “Thank you, Jack. Your kind to bring me this.”

Jack stepped back and nodded. “It’s a basic human right, Supervillain.”

“Some people say I’m not human,” Supervillain said, bringing the tray to the table and sitting down at it. Plastic knife and fork and spoon.

“I think with all the shitty things you’ve done, Supervillain, you could only be human. You scare people because you’re powerful, yes, but I don’t think that’s the extent of the fear you get.”

“No?”

“No,” said Jack, “I think people fear you more because you’re a reminder of who we all have the capacity to be.”

“Hmm,” was all Supervillain replied as he cut into his roast chicken dinner. Jack stood there for a while, more because Chef said that he has to collect the tray and the dishes.

Supervillain didn’t leave him waiting long. It must have only been five minutes when Supervillain sat back with a big sigh and a satisfied smile. Those grey eyes found Jack’s and his smile almost softened. Or maybe Jack was just imagining it.

“Please give my compliments to the chef, Officer.”

Jack let out a little awkward laugh. “I would, but they’d probably think it was a spell that you were using to control them.”

Supervillain laughed a little at that too. He picked up the tray and brought it to the bars, sliding it through for Jack to take.

“Officer, if you don’t mind, can I request a favour?”

“I can’t— “

“Just some bottles of water,” Supervillain asked, voice low and kind and a little pleading. “I can go without food, it’s just— “

Jack softened and nodded, taking the tray from Supervillain’s hands. “I’ll bring some more back to you at Dinnertime?”

“Thank you, Officer,” he said, his smile genuine.

Jack waved at the camera and the room filled with the sound of buzzing, the door opening slowly for Jack to leave through. He waited until it was closed, a voice in his mind locking down his nerves and muscles and rooting him in place. Just to make sure the door closed properly, and sealed.

The light of the lock flashed from green to red, and Jack could move again. He was fine. Supervillain was secure. He made his way back to the kitchens to talk to chef and make sure Supervillain doesn’t go without food.

To get to the kitchens, Jack had to pass by the moderate security prison for powered individuals. They were far rowdier and more boisterous than Supervillain.

“What’s this? Jack, you get demoted to kitchen duty?” Other Villain jeered. Jack ignored them and kept walking.

*~*~*~*~*

Jack was off for two days after that, and all they could think about was Supervillain. If he was fed, if he was starving, if someone remembered to top up his bottles of water.

It was driving them crazy. He should be relaxing but no, here they were, forgetting his grocery list as they stared at the multipack bottles of water in the supermarket and all they could think about was fucking Supervillain.

He needed to figure out a better way to make sure Supervillain had his basic needs attended to before he could actually relax on a day off.

Jack shook his head and went back to his shopping list and tried to push thoughts of Supervillain from his mind.

*~*~*~*~*

“Was Supervillain fed?”

It was the first question Jack asked when they walked out of the locker room. Rufus was on with them today and didn’t move or do anything to acknowledge Jack’s question.

“Rufus.”

Silence.

Jack rolled his eyes and walked up to the reception desk, slamming his hands down on it. Rufus looked up, a horribly smug smile on his face that made them look like a goblin.

“Oh, hi Jack. How were your days off?”

“Great. Was supervillain fed?”

“Hmm, Supervillain… Supervillain… nope,” Rufus said, popping the P. “Doesn’t ring a bell Rooks. Are they a new admission?”

“You’re such a dick, Rufus,” Jack all but growled, walking behind the desk and scanning his key card to maximum security. The door buzzed and Jack slammed it open, half jogging to the kitchens to talk to Chef.

“Hi Chef,” Jack said a bit breathless. He must have looked a sight.

Chef turned and smiled a wide smile at Jack. “Ah! Jack. Thank God. I have the voodoo man’s breakfast prepared for you.”

Jack followed Chef’s hand to the tray set aside away from the rest. Jack walked over and picked it up, thanking Chef.

“Did Supervillain get food when I wasn’t in, Chef?” Jack asked, turning back to face them.

Chef nodded proudly. “Yes Jack. I recruited Rufus and Alastair to feed him when you are gone.”

Jack blinked. “And they did?”

“Yes Jack. Or they ate the tray and returned it. Either way, I am happy.”

Jack’s hands tightened on the tray creaking the flimsy plastic slightly. Jack nodded and said nothing, he didn’t trust his voice to speak so he left with Chef’s comment hanging in the air.

A seed of worry planted itself into Jack’s stomach lining and ricocheted out into a ball of anxiety at what he might find at Supervillain’s cell. If he’d be alive or not. Two days without water, Supervillain could survive that right?

The anxiety didn’t leave Jack, in fact it got worse the closer they got closer to Supervillain’s cell up to the very point that he was buzzed through and opened the door to Supervillain’s cell.

He barely registered the door locking with a buzz as he half jogged over to the bars of Supervillain’s cell. Jack’s eyes went to the lump in the bed under covers and rapped on the bars with the tray.

“Hey, Supervillain. It’s breakfast,” Jack announced, his mind reeling with the same mantra: please don’t be dead, please don’t be dead, please don’t be dead.

“Supervillain?!” Jack asked, voice rising in pitch. The lump stirred in bed and Jack felt the anxiety flood out of him, his shoulders sagging in relief.

He was still alive.

“Off— “Supervillain said with a dry throat, cutting himself off with a raspy cough.

“I have water,” Jack said quickly. Too quickly, too eager, why did Jack even care? Because someone had to so Supervillain doesn’t sue them, a pragmatic voice told Jack and he nodded.

It had to be that.

Totally.

Supervillain moved slow, languid. Each movement an effort. Jack frowned. Surely, he wasn’t that famished from hunger?

It was when Supervillain turned to face Jack that drew his expression into a horrified one and stepped back. Supervillain was bloody and bruised, but these weren’t the old bruises. They were fresh, new. The bandage that Doctor used to set the swelling on Supervillain’s nose was covered in blood, re-broken. The stitches from the cut through Supervillain’s eyebrow was reopened, dark blood crusting over it and his lips were bruised and darkened by blood.

“What— “Jack began but shook his head. “Who did this?!”

Supervillain managed a smile, cracking some of the dried blood from his lips and stood from the bed. The moment he placed weight on his leg Supervillain collapsed, coughing and sputtering dryly, barely catching himself before his head hit the hard floor of the cell.

Jack put the tray on the ground and opened the doors to the cell before sense told him otherwise and ran to Supervillain’s side with a bottle of water. He put a useless hand on Supervillain’s back and Supervillain flinched.

The scariest, biggest, baddest Villain of all time flinched from Jack’s touch.

Jack took his hands off Supervillain as if it burned and sat back, giving Supervillain some space. Jack looked on helpless, worrying his bottom lip and said: “I have water. I need you to sit up, if you can. I won’t touch you, but you need to help me here.”

Jack needed Supervillain to work with him so they could see the extent of the damage. Supervillain composed themselves, sucking in a sharp breath with an arm wrapped protectively around his ribs they sat up, pressing his back against his bed frame.

Up close everything looked worse; his bruises looked angrier, his blood looked black, and his face was far too pale to be okay.

Jack opened the lid of the water bottle and handed it over to Supervillain who took it with a wince of a smile and drank greedily from it. They were drinking so fast that some of the water ran down the corners of his mouth and Supervillain yanked the bottle away with a sharp hiss as the water hit some of the cuts on his mouth.

Jack leaned forward but Supervillain’s eyes shot to him, wild, wounded and angry and Jack stopped, pausing uselessly.

“Sorry— “Supervillain offered; his voice had a little more volume to it now. He sounded like an off-brand Supervillain instead of the real, terrifying one. Jack shook his head and got to his feet.

“It’s okay. I have food for you too.”

Jack felt Supervillain’s grey eyes follow his every movement and when he turned back to face him, Supervillain had a wry smile at the open door to his cell.

“No fear of me escaping like this, is there?” he asked with a dark chuckle.

Jack placed the tray down beside Supervillain and back up a few steps, folding his arms across his chest and leaning against the wall.

“Who did this to you? Was it Rufus?”

Supervillain shrugged weakly and winced again. “How do you know it was a Rufus?”

“They’re the only ones with keys to your cell,” Jack spat. Supervillain hummed, picking at the food on his tray and then pushing it away.

“Maybe I did it to myself,” Supervillain mused taking another sip of water, being careful to drink slower this time.

Jack rolled his eyes and said, “if you want me to believe you just got up and beat yourself bl— “

Supervillain’s eyes cut Jack off. “I didn’t say anything about beating myself up, Officer. Just that maybe as a result of my actions this is what karma has in store for me.”

Jack’s frown deepened at Supervillain’s reply, brows furrowing.

“You— you can’t seriously think that!”

“And if I do?” Supervillain asked, voice more like velvet again. He tilted his head at Jack’s expression, grey eyes smiling smug. “Just because I am a villain, Officer, does not mean I don’t understand consequence. In fact, as a villain, I think I understand it more than the average civilian.”

“You’re not in a prison to be beaten by the people who are meant to ensure you serve your sentence, Supervillain.”

Supervillain pursed his busted lips. “Maybe not. Or maybe, I’m in a prison to serve my time and repent my sins. I’m in here for justice’s sake. Perhaps justice means different things to different people.”

“Maybe,” Jack replied hotly, stepping forward and dropping to a crouch, looking Supervillain in the eye, hands bawled into fists at his sides, “but standards of practice don’t, so tell me who did this to you so I can bring them to justice. Please?”

Supervillain smirked and sat back against the bed frame staring up at Jack with smiling eyes and replied: “Officer, I did it to myself.”

Jack shook his head with a huff and stood, walking towards the cell door again and locking it. Looking back through the bars, Jack said: “Try and eat some more, I’ll get the doctor to come and check you out. Hopefully clean the cuts at the very least.”

“Thank you, Officer,” Supervillain said politely, and it felt like a punch to the gut.

*~*~*~*~*

After the Doctor saw Supervillain, Jack returned to reception, fury winding every nerve tight and hot. They moved faster, anger spurring him on more than energy. Once he swiped his card to reception, he threw the door open and stalked out, eyes zeroing in on Rufus’s back and strutting towards Rufus, looming over him.

Jack grabbed the back of the chair and swung it around.

“Oi!” Rufus exclaimed in surprise, but his mouth shut when he saw the look on Jack's face and an ugly smile spread across Rufus's face. “Jack! You've been gone so long, tell me, how is Supervillain doing?”

Jack didn't think.

He reached forward and grabbed Rufus by the collar of his shirt with both hands and dragged him from the chair. The wide-eyed surprise was enough of a gift, but it didn't satisfy Jack's anger. He didn't want Rufus to be surprised; he wanted him to be scared.

Jack pivoted on his foot and brought Rufus with him, slamming the weasel back against the support beam of the door. Rufus let out a harsh oomph and gasped when Jack twisted his wrists, turning his knuckles in on Rufus's collarbone and pressing down hard.

“You want to fucking ask me that again you piece of shit?”

“Who are you to do this to me!” Rufus screeched, indignant. Jack just yanked Rufus back and threw him back against the wall with ease. Rufus gasped out again and wrapped his hands around Jack's wrists trying to remove them but failing. “I AM YOUR SUPERIOR!”

“You're a fucking idiot, Rufus. You attacked Supervillain in his cell. Admit it.”

“I only admit to doing what any rational person would do to a scumbag like him.”

“You are fucking psychopath! He isn't a threat in here! You abused your position of power by assaulting him.”

Rufus's eyes turned murderous. “And he didn't abuse his power when he was terrorising people in the streets, did he? When he was attacking businesses, people's livelihood? How many people died because he could abuse his power?”

“You should know better.”

“No, Jack. You should know better. Do you really think the rules apply to him? If he's willing to break them, he should be willing to have rules broken for him.”

Jack pinched his lips together at that, the logic was there, and Rufus was angry and Jack should just drop it. He sighed, grip loosening but not letting go completely. “You're not the law.”

“Either are you, hotshot. You glib know-it-all bastard. You just think you're so smart, don't ya? Well,” Rufus said, screwing his nose up in disgust and pressing forward against Jack's knuckles harder. Jack breath came out faster, heart beating harder, lips curled back. “I know you're just another bastard kid from the Daeds whose father probably abandoned him when he saw you in the crib after he left you and your whore mo-”

Rufus didn't get to finish because Jack had shot a swift uppercut to his nose.

“YOU FUCKING BRAT!” Rufus wailed, stumbling to the side and holding his nose as blood gushed from it. “YOU BROKE MY NOSE!”

“What's all the--” Alastair said, coming out from the break room along with the sentinels who had drawn his guns at the pair. Alastair's eyes went wide, taking in the scene within a second and was already moving towards them, telling the sentinels to “stand down. I got this.”

The sentinels obeyed with a heavy shuffle, returning to his eased position guns no longer pointing at Jack and Rufus. He left his sandwich on the counter and Rufus saw him and cried, “Alastair thank god! Jack's out of control! The little bastard-”

Jack didn't think. They just moved. His fist was caught before it could make contact and they almost growled his displeasure.

“Call me a bastard again you fucking coward!” Jack yelled as Alastair bent Jack's wrist behind his back and slammed his front against the wall. Jack struggled, head butting back trying to get Alastair off them, but Alastair was twice as big and twice as strong as Jack. He just placed a hand on the back of Jack's neck and held them still. “Get off me!”

Instead, Alastair turned to Rufus and said: “go get cleaned up. I'll deal with him.”

“Be careful,” Rufus sneered, “Jack's gone feral.”

Jack struggled more in Alastair's grip until his wrist was pushed further up his back and Jack hissed in pain through gritted teeth.

“Go to Doctor,” Alastair ordered, “and don't say another word or I'll let Jack break something else.”

Jack struggled futilely in Alastair's hold, trying with all his might to push back but Alastair had him effectively restrained so he had to wait for Alastair's orders.

“Ssh, kid,” Alastair said, voice gentle as he rubbed a thumb over the back of Jack's neck. Jack's struggles ceased, a warm wave of calm overcoming him. “Deep breaths, come on now. It's okay.”

Jack took deep breaths, in slowly, feeling his ribcage expanding against the cool wall and exhaling again. “You're okay. Relax, that's it.”

It took another three long deep breaths before Alastair said, “okay. I'm gonna let you go now, and you're going to tell me what happened okay?”

Jack nodded, even though it was hard to do with his cheek smashed against the wall but still somehow, he managed. Alastair released him then. The moment his contact ended Jack felt that warm calm that overtook them rinse away like cold rain and they turned wearily, rubbing his wrist which was already bruising and looked up hesitant at Alastair.

Alastair turned and walked to the countertop, grabbing his half-eaten sandwich and nodded for Jack to sit in the chair. Half fearing Alastair wrestling him into the chair, Jack sat obligingly and stared past Alastair like a bold child about to be scolded.

“What happened?”

“I went to see Supervillain today and he was beaten within an inch of his life.”

Alastair blinked and took a bite of his sandwich. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Jack asked, incredulous. “I just told you that a prisoner was beaten up under our watch.”

“And you assumed it was Rufus?”

“Who else would it be?” Jack hissed.

“Me,” said Alastair flatly and Jack sat back in his seat, shock forming an uncomfortable lump in his throat. “Doctor. Chef. Nurse. Fuck, one of the many cleaners?”

“They don't have keys to his cell.”

“Okay. So maybe one of them came to Rufus and asked for them. Maybe it was innocent, maybe it was nefarious, and Rufus knew what they planned, but that doesn't make Rufus responsible.”

“It's his responsibility to-”

“To step in the way of people's vengeance?”

“That's not-”

“Fair?” Alastair asked, raising his brows into arches. “Listen kid, I'm gonna tell you some truths about your new best friend, Supervillain, okay?”

“He's not-”

“Shut up, don't speak and just listen,” Alastair ordered and Jack's lips closed at the command. “Your pal that got ruffed up in his cell has murdered people, Jack. That's something you should remind your righteous moral compass when you're exercising judgement on his behalf. He has killed many, many people. Doctor's husband and daughter was two of them when he collapsed the train lines on seventh.”

That fact hit Jack like a stab in the gut. “She...” Jack said and then swallowed. “Doctor never told me.”

“Why would she?”

“But Doctor's fixed-” Jack began, but the fire burning in Alastair's eyes shut them up again.

“Yeah. Doctor does her job. Chef still cooks him dinner even though his brother and nephew were killed in the central bridge crash because of fucking Supervillain. George, the cleaner for us, his sick mother was in Westfront hospital when Supervillain gave Superhero that impossible ultimatum between the elementary school and the hospital, so don't come in here, acting like a righteous prick and being Supervillain's number one fan when you have no skin in the game.”

Jack was uncharacteristically quiet. The silence was deafening. Jack swallowed, eyes down and the guilt started weighing heavy on his chest.

After a few minutes of a terse silence, Jack looked up to apologise and noticed the bruises on Alastair's knuckles. His eyes stopped and stared. It felt like his stomach ran right off a cliff and was in freefall to the choppy, unknown waters below because Alastair would never…

It did not go unnoticed.

Alastair looked down with a fond kind of smile as he ran a thumb over the broken and bloodied skin that was fresh, only just scabbing over.

“My sister-in-law was in Westfront hospital in labour, about to give birth to my nephew. I was about to be an uncle. My brother was about to be a father. He lost everything in the incident. It ruined him, he blamed himself. She told him to go home and get a shower and sleep, and then she was dead. A week later he took his own life.”

A tear ran down Alastair's cheek and trailed down his strong jaw like a gentle trickle. It looked so foreign on his face, his usually happy-go-lucky charming face and smile.

“So don't you blame Rufus and go guns blazing giving him credit for my work again, Jack. Ya understand me?”

Jack felt the threat in his words.

Jack swallowed and nodded and said, “yeah. I understand.”

“Good. Then we won’t have any more problems here will we?”

Jack let his displeasure show through his petulant gaze, cocking an eyebrow at Alastair. “Depends. Will you beat up Supervillain in his cell again?”

“If the mood takes me, yeah.”

Jack sucked in a breath and set his jaw, looking to the doors of the Maximum security murderously. A strong hand reached forward and grabbed the head rest of the chair and turned it until Jack was facing Alastair again. Except it wasn’t the same Alastair that he knew. This one was strange, something uncanny and off glinting in the corner of his expression.

“I’m sorry it’s not the answer you want, kid, but it’s the truth. I’m not gonna lie to you, I’m still very fond of you and your integrity. I’m just trying to paint the picture for ya,” Alastair said leaning down, forcing Jack to sit back into the seat until his back was flush with the cushion and head rest. He was trapped under Alastair’s arm and body, and all he could do was glower up at Alastair’s charming smiling face that had an edge to it. “If you stand by Supervillain in here, you stand on your own.”

Jack pursed his lips swallowing a witty retort.

“Understand?”

“Understood.”

*~*~*~*~*

@annablogsposts sorry this took so long, I had to split it up into parts to get it out this week, I hope you enjoy!

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technicolourcowboy · 1 month

Text

Felt a bit silly 🤭 went and mobified another cowboy babeyyyy

One day they will get their cowboy hats 😔 one day

#welcome home mob au #welcome home mob oc #hudson holloway #mob!hudson #tfw you go looking for your brother bc you hear he’s been taken in by a no-good group of Diabolical Villains #only to be taken by surprise by their mad scientist and turned into whatever tf this thing is #oooh and he remembers everything!! but is a passenger in his own body :] rookie mistake #and can’t tell Hally anything cuz his vocal cords are all twisted up and gross now #he’s essentially a blender in puppet form so the mob tosses whatever poor shmuck they want gone his way #he’s very good at… shredding #drawing #art #original character #welcome home oc #welcome home au

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slythereen · 9 months

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carlos sainz i know you're not blaming the ROOKIE ...

#leave oscar alone?????#carlos. you make it so hard man #you make it so difficult to maintain positivity for you #oscar was so polite about it and is A ROOKIE??????#villain (derogatory) behavior to blame that precious angel #oscar piastri #f1 #belgium gp 2023

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gayofthefae · 1 year

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I really think that Isabel’s visit could culminate in the really important conversation they’ve been building too about work/life balance just because of how that affected his relationship with Isabel (of course with the added detail of addiction, but still).

#chenford #i hope at least #either way they will cover it eventually #and no matter what i do not think #isabel bradford #is just there for a contrived one-off plot #or to mess up their relationship and try to win tim back in a villainous way #i really think it'll just bring up some important stuff that would have needed discussing anyways #chenford predictions #the rookie

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mirohtron · 2 years

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second part

—

"You know," the villain said, bone dry, "for a trained agent, you're rather bad at acting."

The hero was not a trained agent. They were very sure the villain knew this, and that this was a tease. The hero had never been teased before.

The hero laughed and realised their mouth was far too dry despite the glass of water they'd just had. They forced themself to swallow before they spoke. "I'm a hero. Righteous and everything. Acting is lying. Lying isn't really something I'd encourage, right?"

The villain did not laugh. Another attendee of the party walked past them and the villain caged them in against the table. The proximity made the hero's blood burn. "In one minute my sidekick will bring us to that," they casually glanced behind them, "table over there."

A moment passed as the hero waited for the villain to continue. They swallowed once more and took in a breath.

The villain kissed them before they spoke. Then a second time, longer, and the hero curled their toes to try not to tiptoe and deepen it.

"Focus," they whispered against their ear. "You wouldn't like us slaughtered in the Bates family's basement, hm?"

Of course, the hero wouldn't like that. They did not like that. Their tongue felt dry for a much different reason now, however. The hero willed themself to not look away from the villain's cold gaze. The villain's fingers brushed their collarbones. Behave.

The sidekick took them to the table. The hero was swallowed in the squashy cushions and the villain's arm around their waist pressed them side to side. Their makeup was meant to make them look soft. Flushed, dewy cheeks and nude lipstick. The hero still found themself growing paranoid. What if the blush crept up to their ears?

The hero tried not to think about that, and more about the fact that they were sitting just across a lethal, dangerous person. Jonathan Bates. Something of a criminal mastermind. Eyeing the hero in a way that made all their nerves curl and coil.

"Evening." His voice was scratchy. It could've sounded welcoming. It reminded the hero of a snake coiling around a grapevine—perfectly hidden against a pretty background.

Jonathan Bates ruled the underbelly of the city—the criminal empire for ordinary people. Powerless people. The villain's men had gathered that he was also experimenting on children who were showing signs of latent abilities, trying to find a way to make an artificial superhuman. Man-made, like he was a god.

"Evening," the villain replied, less dry. The hero sneaked a glance at his sidekick and wondered if this was a trap. After all, the hero was the only one of their kind in the city. Perhaps the villain saw them as vermin meant to be removed.

Then again, it felt like something out of character, for the villain. It could've been a naïve assumption—is a naïve assumption. The only hero in the city, foiling the plans of several villains. Just one person. So new. So easy to take out. But the hero had never fought this villain. The villain had come to them, for help. They eyed them with interest rather than loathing. And they were... somewhat morally grey. Most of the villains in the city were utter beasts. Wouldn't care for human experiments. This one talked about them with a clenched jaw and a tight grip on the table.

Bates wanted to continue, from the movement of his lips. He didn't. "These are private matters." He gestured to the hero, and they straightened up from their lean against the villain's side. "If you would so kindly."

The hero nodded with a polite smile. "Go look around, all right sweetheart?" the villain said with a kiss to their lips. They tapped the back of the hero's hand—focus—as they went, and the hero wandered about before moving to the bar, waiting for the sidekick to be sent after them. They ordered a french martini with a straw and the sidekick tapped their shoulder and ordered another one.

"You're clearly a favourite," the sidekick mumbled. Their drink was particularly fizzy. "Boss's relationships have never went more smoothly."

The hero shrugged. "Maybe I'm a lucky charm."

The sidekick snickered. It was not very friendly. What a guarded creature. "He's eyeing you too, did you see? Very obviously."

The hero made a noise. It rose up towards the end, questioning, and the hero refrained from touching their warm cheeks.

The sidekick raised their glass to their lips, then gently gestured it to where the villain was, leisurely looking at them. Leaned back on the leather sofa like it was a throne.

When they looked back, the sidekick was staring at them. First with blank eyes, then they crinkled into a playful smile. They pushed the hero's martini forward, fizzy. "It's quite a light drink. You should try it."

It tasted like shit. A little sour. A sweet-ish aftertaste. The sidekick laughed at their reaction and goaded them into drinking the entire thing. The hero left the bar and roamed around a bit more, then left through the front and into the garden. They bumped into someone and apologized quickly, shaking the alcohol out of their system.

The sidekick joined them, brushing shoulders. "Light tolerance?"

"Heavy. I hope. I wouldn't want to disappoint. Maybe your boss will cut my tongue out if I do."

The sidekick snickered again, like they couldn't believe the hero said that. "They're far too magnanimous for that," they said lowly.

The hero laughed, softly. The sidekick merely looked at them, like they hadn't meant that as a joke, so the hero looked in another direction. Their hand rose, to the tracker necklace resting on their neck, and focused on the task at hand. Find the entrance to the basement. Record everything. Rescue the few missing children. Send the evidence to the cops and journalists. Let them handle it.

"It's kind of stupid," the hero mumbled as they approached the back of the mansion, "to experiment on children in your basement. While you host a party upstairs. Isn't it?"

"Mm." The sidekick slowed down, and they stepped on the hero's heel. The hero stumbled forward and the sidekick yanked them back before they could fall.

The hero's fingers clutched the sidekick's shirt, feet unsteady.

The sidekick tilted their head. "Amateur."

"Blame your boss, not me."

With a chuckle, the sidekick let go of them, letting them stand upright. "We should focus," the hero said. "I don't know, I have a bad feeling."

"Anxiety."

"My gut's pretty accurate."

The sidekick chuckled. Again. It sounded quite condescending. "You talk too much. Maybe the alcohol's getting to you?"

Ah. The hero tapped their lip, then crossed their arms close to their stomach, feeling foolish. The alcohol was getting to them, wasn't it? And they thought they had a tolerance. The little pit in their stomach diluted into something closer to embarrassment.

The sidekick found the hatch in the grass. It opened once they pulled with all their strength and the hero fell to the ground with a headache from the impact. Alcohol wasn't supposed to do that.

They sat upright on the grass, feeling their head slightly throb in time with their heartbeat. Jerked their limbs. Their heavy, heavy limbs. Oh. Okay.

The sidekick held out a hand. When the hero didn't take it and instead scooted away, they forced them up. The hero tried to push them away and their arms immediately felt dead from the effort.

Despite their struggling, the sidekick dragged them forward. "I think you should go first."

"You did something." Ah, they were breathless. Maybe martinis weren't supposed to be fizzy. "My drink. What did—" they breathed, "what did you do?"

The sidekick tilted their head. Gave them a smile. "Acted. As a good villain does."

Then they pushed the hero into the hatch.

Ah.

#not proofread #'i didnt get it' 'the build up was bad' girl i dont CARE i use thjs blog for writing practice #once i publish a book i will be Sexier™ and Better™ at writing buildups #hero x villain #villain x hero #kyles.writing #my writing #writeblr #writers on tumblr #villains and heroes #heroes and villans #villains and sidekicks #betrayal #i haven't posted in so long. hope i dont enter my flop era #hero is a simp #rookie hero

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