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faetaleplots · 1 year

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A Meeting to Remember. Or Not.

It's taken me way too long to post this, but-

“They first met when Alex hired Morgan to scare some potential investors away from some property assuming that Morgan would like, rough them up in an alley and not dress up like a ghost and pretend like the property is haunted, which Morgan did. It was shockingly more effective than beating people up in an alley.” -Lighthouseraiders

this fic is 4k

TW: swearing

Technically Alex could have just snapped the investors out of existence or dealt with them some other way on their own, they were powerful enough that it would probably take them under a minute to do so. Counter point, if they went around attacking civilians, supposedly unprovoked it could ruin the entire ‘brooding and mysterious and don’t approach the rabid dog even though it just looks lonely™’ vibe they had going, which would kinda suck. So instead they took the classic ‘too powerful to really care, get a henchman to take care of it for them™’ way out. They opened a search tab on their phone, typed in “villain for hire” and watched pages of results show up. They scrolled to the very bottom of the first one without even looking at all the hero propaganda and news articles about successful or failed attempts on heroes’ lives, and skipped the first twelve pages that came up. Thirteen had always been a lucky number for Alex. A link caught their eye and they scrolled, though Alex couldn’t pinpoint why it did. Still, they clicked it, curious enough to check it out. The link led Alex to a blog, interestingly enough, though there were very few posts on it. At the top in large font it advertised:

E-tier villain for hire

No questions asked

Payment negotiable

Will work long term

Will take care of people

Will not act as bait for heroes

Will set traps for enemies

Will work undercover

Underneath that was an email and a phone number, which Alex assumed were for contacting the villain in question. They browsed the site for a few more minutes (there really wasn’t much else on it) before shrugging to themself and clicking the email. They liked the part about “taking care” of people, not to mention that few low tier villains ever set boundaries because they were afraid it would make higher tier villains dislike them and either not hire them or kill them. So Alex would send this person an email and if they didn’t like the E-tier villain’s work then they could just kill them. Simple as that. Satisfied with their solution, Alex began composing an email.

Morgan hated his job. He hated working in customer service and he hated being forced to put up with people’s shit everyday. And for what? Just so he could earn minimum wage so he could live in a shitty, literally illegal apartment, and use the little money that was left after rent to feed himself. Although most of the time he didn’t even do that. It was an awful way for anyone to live, but it was downright shameful for someone who called themself a villain.

And yet it was still somehow better than being his brother’s sidekick. Being a sidekick was horrible. As a sidekick to a hero, he wasn’t technically working for the FA, legally making him an independent contractor, which meant that they were legally allowed to pay him less than minimum wage, charge him to rent the costumes he wore from the FA and he would be charged extra if the costume got damaged. It meant he had no insurance, and pretty much couldn’t leave. It was an entirely corrupt system that financially ruined any sidekick as long as they didn’t die first. And then the FA had the audacity to call themselves the “good guys”.

Morgan groaned into his couch when he heard a notification from across the room. His phone must still be in his bag, which he’d dropped at the door the second he got into his apartment, which sucked for him because he didn’t want to get up and face the cold floor. On the other hand, that was a notification from his email, and no one emailed him, so…

Morgan held his blanket tighter and braced himself for the cold that came with the floor (or really just anywhere) of his apartment in any season other than summer. Morgan hopped his way over to his bag, snatched his phone, and booked it back to the couch faster than he’d ever run from the police. Once he had returned to the safety of the disintegrating couch, hidden beneath his one blanket, Morgan unlocked his phone and opened his email, praying that the notification hadn’t been for spam.

He almost deleted the email, seeing that the sender was unknown, but he hesitated. It had been sent to the email that he’d put on that website he set up a while ago, so maybe…

Morgan bit his lip as he scanned the email, becoming increasingly relieved that he hadn’t deleted it. It was from some higher tier villain who needed to get some investors off their property, a simple enough job. Morgan didn’t know who the villain was, but he supposed that if they were hiring outside people instead of doing it themselves or using their henchmen they wanted the task to be unconnected to them. At this point Morgan just cared if the pay was legitimate. And when he saw the payment proposed by them he had to make sure his eyes were working. That was enough to support him for the next two years, more than enough time to actually plan a heist like he wanted to— enough to help him actually kick off his villain career. He’d been a villain for about a year and a half already, but he hadn’t really gotten the chance to do anything. And the job honestly sounded way too easy for that much, but that meant that Morgan was willing to take the risk that it might be a scam. He quickly typed out a response and asked for more details.

This was going to be fun.

The agreed on date had been exactly a week after Morgan received the email and he had been filled with excitement all week. This was pretty much his first heist since running away from his family, and it almost made him forget how much he hated his life.

The day of the job, Morgan called into work, saying he was sick and wouldn’t be able to make it in, embellishing his performance with a perfected ‘sick voice’ and perfectly timed coughs. The moment he got off the call, Morgan left and locked his apartment and lugged his bags downstairs. Living on the top floor was awful, but it meant he didn’t have a bunch of people walking by his door all the time. Plus it was the only apartment available when he moved in and Morgan really didn’t want to go through the hassle of dragging his couch up or down stairs again.

He finally managed to make it to the closest bus station, both of his bags intact, though his back was less so. The bags were almost overflowing with gear and Morgan honestly dreaded the end of the day when he would have to lug everything back home again.

The bus arrived five minutes late, or at exactly the time Morgan had expected it to, depending on who you asked. The commute to the property wasn’t a long one, but it took Morgan outside of the area he was used to. Not that Morgan was surprised. He’d done his research, he knew where he was going. It didn’t change the fact that he was out of his comfort zone, but he knew what he was doing.

He was the only person to get off at the stop and all the other passengers gave him odd looks because of it. He supposed that was normal– he really didn’t look like he belonged around here. The neighborhood looked like one of those streets that actors would walk around dressed like Dickens characters during December where tourists could pay for a carriage ride or overpriced hot chocolate whilst people in clothing from the 1940s sang outdated and overrated Christmas carols. Meanwhile Morgan, wearing a pair of jeans he hadn’t replaced for two years and a shirt that he often used to mop up spilled coffee with a bulging and worn out backpack slung on each shoulder, looked like he’d been homeless for a while. It didn’t help that his hair was just the wrong side of shaggy and far too straight to look good by any means. But Morgan didn’t care what the stuck-up, judgy people on the bus thought of him– he had better things to think about.

It didn’t take Morgan long to find the property he would be protecting, and it took even less time to break into it. Checking his phone, he saw that he had about forty minutes until the investors were set to show up, meaning he had about twenty five minutes, counting on the possibility that they might be at most ten minutes early, and quickly went to work, setting up the house exactly how he’d need it to be.

Morgan had not counted on the blueprints he’d found online being for a different house, but they were similar enough and he was good at improvising. Unfortunately that meant he finished ten minutes after he’d planned on and had only just finished setting up the kitchen when he heard the front door open. Cursing under his breath, Morgan ran as quickly as he could to get into position, stepping on quite a few creaky floor boards, but sure that no footsteps were heard. It was a skill he’d picked up quite early on in his years living in his parent’s house.

By the time all three of the investors were inside the house Morgan was in position, a bit winded, though that was mainly due to the adrenaline coursing through him. He’d picked the perfect vantage point to see almost the entire first floor from where he was, and what he saw made him smirk. The investor that was furthest into the house (probably the first one to enter) was looking around a bit nervously. The second was rolling his eyes and the third seemed to be straining to hear something– probably footsteps. Who knew that being caught off guard would benefit Morgan’s plan?

“It’s an old house, George,” The second man was saying to the first, “Old houses creak. And old houses exist. But do you know what doesn’t exist? Ghosts.” He scoffed and pushed past the other man and into the kitchen. “We’re here for the property not it's history.” Morgan grimaced a bit. If they didn’t know anything about the history of this place that might take his plan down a notch. Pity, it had been really fun to do all the research and to figure out how to incorporate it all into his plan.

“A– There was a woman who died here in the 1930s, though…” The third man spoke up. Good, at least someone else did their research. “She was this dancer– Margret Can?” Her name was Margret Cain, but whatever. “She, um, I think she went missing and ended up being found here in the 70s.”

The man that had been called George turned to the historian, still looking around like the wall paper might come alive and eat him. “Found? What do you mean ‘found,’ Mike?” Morgan really should have been filming this all– maybe he should write a horror movie script about it at some point.

“Her body. It was found bricked up in the chimney. Since then this place hasn’t had anyone live in it for much longer than a few months.” Morgan could see George swallow and finally look away from the house to make eye contact with Mike. Perfect. Their pre-existing fear would benefit him greatly.

The tension was broken by the other man yelling at them from the kitchen. “Jesus Christ– this place will need a lot of work but boy will people pay big bucks for it when we fix it up. What are you two doing out there, making flower crowns? Get in here.” It seemed like he was in charge, or at least like he thought he was. The other two scrambled into the kitchen, taking in the cobwebs and dust covering all the counters. The kitchen sink was dripping, set up by one of Morgan’s cheap machines that he had made in the middle of the night, being kept up by coffee, energy drinks, and pure determination. He really hoped it didn’t explode. The idea was that it would drip exactly twelve times every half a second, wait three seconds, then repeat. The liquid that was dripping was a concoction Morgan had made of some very watery goo and the tiniest bit of red dye, so that you wouldn’t even notice the color as it dripped unless you really looked. But the more drips into the sink, the redder it would get. And Morgan had made certain that the kitchen sink’s drain was clogged.

Mike noticed the odd dripping pattern first, cautiously inching over to the sink to watch the drips. Morgan can see a crease in the man’s brow as he sees the tint of color. “Keith? George? This water look a bit off to you?”

“Probably just from rust.” Said the man who must be Keith without turning to look. “Stop making up excuses and let’s move on.” George looked back and forth between Keith and the sink before seeming to decide that just moving on would be better for his sanity and leaving Mike alone with the sink and Morgan. Unlike the other two, Mike didn’t seem to be so quick to brush off the sink, creeping close enough to peek into the basin. Morgan really should have been recording this because he was pretty sure Mike had just broken the world record for highest pitch hit by human vocal chords. In the sink, covered in the reddish not-water, was a severed hand. Morgan had gotten it from an after Halloween sale a few years back and had taken some… artistic liberties to make it look more realistic. Honestly he was just glad it was finally getting put to good use– it had been sitting in his medicine cabinet for a while.

Morgan was quite a talented artist when he was engaged in a project, and the hand had apparently been the tipping point for Mike. Pity, really, Morgan frowned as he watched the investor sprint out of the room fast enough that Morgan almost thought he had super speed. The E-Tier villain had been hoping they would last longer, but he supposed the other two would have to do.

Said pair of investors had jumped at the scream and watched as their coworker all but vanished back onto the street. A full five seconds of no sound other than the drip drip drip coming from Morgan’s invention.

“Weak.” Kieth growled. Morgan smirked, hearing the only partially hidden fear in his voice. “C’mon. Let’s go.” He turned on his heel, leading the way into the dining room, completely unaware of the feast that awaited them there.

When Alex hired someone to get rid of their investor issue, they had been thinking that said person would beat the investor would be beating the problems up in some alley somewhere. That’s what hired villains normally did. Well this one was apparently NOT normal. Alex had shown up at the house expecting to hand off the cash and never speak to the other villain again. Instead they found two of the three investors still in their house, climbing the stairs to the attic and looking quite terrified. Alex was already invisible from the fight they’d come from and decided they might as well stay that way while looking for the E-tier villain who apparently had no idea how to do their job. However, Alex was unable to find the villain just by simply looking around. They truly had no idea what the other looked like and they obviously weren’t in sight. Fine. Alex would just follow the investors and if the two men walked out of the house Alex would simply kill all three of them.

Of the two men, the one leading the was whipping his head around at every perceived sound, eyes wild, while the other man clung to his arm, apparently whispering something to himself. Alex slightly adjusted their senses, frowning when they heard, “Not real, not real, not real, not real-” coming from the mouth of the whispering man.

“Would you shut up?” Alex winced as the other man whisper-yelled at his companion, shaking his arm free and reaching the door at the top of the stairs. “If it weren’t for you we’d be out of here already!” He turned the doorknob and looked into the abyss-like darkness for a moment before taking a breath and stepping inside. “Light switch should be here somewhere…” He muttered to himself. Alex could imagine the man feeling the walls for a lightswitch but couldn’t see him. “Aha!” The sound of a switch being flicked and a slightly concerning buzz of a light bulb broke through the darkness. “What are you doing on the steps you coward?” The leader scoffed at the other man. “Get in here.” The man reluctantly stepped through the doorway. The first man grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and hauled him farther into the room. Alex moved to follow the two of them but instead ended up walking into a wall of wood as the door slammed shut. Frowning, Alex teleported themself into the Attic instead, and what they saw… confused them to say the least, one might have said that it freaked Alex out. That was if one could see Alex whilst they were invisible and had a death wish.

In the time it had taken them to teleport into the room, the overhead lightbulb had been shattered, smoke or fog or something had covered the entire floor, a red light was coming from somewhere, and there was a third… being that was standing in the center of the room. It was draped in old grays and whites and lace and the slightest hint of greens and they melded perfectly into the fog as if it was part of them. The being took a gliding step towards the two investors, both of whom were trembling and clinging to each other tightly. Alex felt intimidated, and they weren’t even the one being advanced upon.

“You will leave. This is my place and you have no right.” Oh wow. That voice definitely fit. It felt like the walls agreed with the being. Agreed that whoever they were, they had full authority. Alex was actually considering giving the deed up to them. “You will never come back and you will never speak of this. Heed me for I have power not just over this house but now over you.” The two men were nodding frantically, scratching at the door like dogs in an attempt to get out to escape to stay alive. “Leave.” The being said with a finality and the door swung open with ease, hitting both men, not that they stopped to nurse their new wounds. No, they were far too busy getting the hell out of there and as far away as they could. Alex stood stock still, forgetting that they were invisible and waiting for the being to notice them and turn its rage on them. Instead the creature started laughing. “O-oh my god! Their faces!” The voice had changed completely, breaking the spell. The being trotted through the fog to turn something off (Alex later realized it was a fog machine) and began what seemed to be clean up, still laughing. Alex shook themself, realizing that this was their chance.

Whilst the other’s back was turned, Alex made themself visible once more, leaning up against a wall to make themself look cool. “Oh yes, their faces really were a sight. Suppose that makes it even more of a shame no pictures were taken.” Alex watched bemused as the other–who just a minute ago had been the most terrifying thing Alex had ever seen–jumped out of their skin. The being grabbed the closest thing to them and brandished their newfound weapon at Alex. Unfortunately, said weapon happened to be a can of hairspray that sounded empty. Alex snorted at the attempt and pushed their attacker’s hands down. “Relax, I’m not here to hurt you. Are you the E-Tier villain?” Alex was pretty sure they were, but it didn’t hurt to check.

“Um, yeah– who the fuck are you?” Alex decided that the other villain was not going to clock them with the empty can and removed their hands.

“I’m here to pay you.” They reached into the inside pocket of their coat and pulled out the cash they had promised in their email. “And my name is Alex.” They slipped the bills into one of the other villain’s hands and kissed their knuckles, winking up at them as they did.

The other villain looked thoroughly confused. “Um, okay?” Alex raised an eyebrow at them, part of them curious as to why this low tier villain was not begging for their mercy. That was normally what happened when Alex revealed themself to people.

“You know, typically when a person introduces themself it is polite to respond with an introduction of one’s own.” They prompted.

“Bold of you to assume I would be polite.” The other person had sass and apparently had no idea who Alex was. They were turning out to be quite entertaining.

Alex smirked, looking at the wall beside them, pretending to think. “Perhaps. Then again, I did just pay you.” They watched the other size them up before backing away slightly.

“Morgan. He/him.” He finally answered, glaring at Alex.

“Well, Morgan,” Alex began, leaning back against the wall, “What you did up here was impressive and I think I missed most of it.”

Morgan turned away but Alex could hear in the tone of his voice that he was pleased with the compliment and proud of himself. “This was probably the easiest part.” He shrugged like it wasn’t a big thing.

“Easy?” Alex asked incredulously. “I don’t understand how you did a single part of that.” They would have assumed that Morgan had the power of creating illusions, except that would make him C-Tier at least.

Morgan was taking off the outfit that looked hand made, pulling it over his head, so his response came out a bit muffled. “Really it was easy enough. I just had to make a lightbulb that I could easily shatter, then time the breaking of it perfectly so that by the time the back up lights came on I would be directly in front of them.” Morgan shrugged again. “And the door was just strong magnets. All I had to do was temporarily create an electromagnetic field to demagnetize them long enough for them to get in and out. Don’t worry- I can take them out of the door so you don’t have to worry about that.”

Alex understood nothing that Morgan had just said but boy did they want him to keep talking. “Um, you said you did other stuff around the place? What did you do?” The spark that flared up in the E-Tier’s eyes was worth not killing the investors– Alex almost forgot that they had even existed in the first place.

Alex trailed after Morgan around the house as he gathered all his stuff into two overflowing backpacks, trying their best to follow Morgan’s rambling, though to be honest they were never all that good at science or tech, which seemed to be Morgan’s area of expertise. All the same, they listened intently, waiting for Morgan to breathe so Alex could ask for his number. For work purposes, of course. Unfortunately, the only time Morgan stopped talking was to take a call, after which he spat out a quick goodbye and rushed out the door, taking all of his stuff with him and leaving Alex behind with no explanation or phone number.

When Alex got back to their lair they decided to see if they could find more information on the other villain, but google gave them nothing and now they couldn’t even find the blog that had been how they found Morgan in the first place they groaned and shut their computer a bit more forcefully than intended, snapping in fully in half. Damnit. Alex had gotten this one, what, two days ago? And they’d actually liked the stickers they’d put on it this time.

Despite their intent of finding Morgan again, the E-Tier slipped to the back of Alex’s mind and they quickly got caught up in other things. But they didn’t forget that day– the first day they met Morgan.

#s and d tier #s & d tier #s & d tier fan fic #s and d tier fan fiction #morgan sterling #alex stewart #d tier villain #s tier villain #fanfic #writer #thank you to my beta reader

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