Acid and Flannel

Flannels Killian held his head down in defeat. His wrists were cuffed behind his back, being helped up the steps to the police station. His nemesis, Acidity, had finally defeated him. It was hard for him to accept it, given how stealthy her attack was. She was wearing what Killian would have described as a bright yellow one-piece swimsuit and a lime green fanny pack. It was ridiculous. She stood out, yet he never saw her coming. 

They walked into the station with thunderous applause. Officers were high-fiving her as she went by, giving her a true hero's welcome. It was a celebration of justice served. She ruffled her prisoner's wild brown hair and brought him into the hall going to the cells. The noise was brought down as the door closed behind them, giving them some privacy. 

"Did you hear that applause? You sure are a popular one," Acidity said in a peppy voice. 

"I don't think they were clapping for me."

"Agree to disagree." She ruffled his hair again and took a deep breath near his head. 

Killian rolled his eyes. He always figured heroes got off on basking in their own accomplishments. It was the reason he became a villain in the first place. To chop down their egos like they did his axe throwing business. His walk down the empty hall would have been a deafening reminder of his failure to see his plan through, if not for her constant comments. 

"Have you been working out?" She asked, squeezing his bicep.

He scoffed. "Clearly not enough."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that."

Killian cocked his head, confused by her tone. It sounded like she had an ulterior motive. Was she trying to make him feel better about going to prison? Maybe turn him into some informant? It would take more than a few compliments to do that.

"What game are you playing?"

"Game?" Acidity asked in a playful voice. "Lately it's been Haley's Wild Adventure. I'm on level—"

"You know what I'm talking about." He rattled his cufflinks. "This."

"We're just talking. No game…unless you want to play one with me?"

"I'll pass."

She suddenly threw him against the wall. Acidity was so close to him, he felt her fanny pack press against his lower back. It caught Killian off guard, seeing as she was not so forceful the entire way here. Her hands ran from his upper thigh down to his leg and stopped at his boot. Lifting up the hem of his pants, she retrieved his hidden throwing knife.

"I thought there was something a bit too sexy about your walk."

"There isn't anything sexy about my walk," Killian said in defiance. 

"I'll be the judge of that."

Acidity pulled him off the wall and played with the knife in her hand. She walked in front of him, twirling and flipping the knife. As Killian watched her dazzling performance, he looked for the right moment to attack. He found that moment when she tossed the blade toward the ceiling and charged her with his shoulder. The tackle knocked them both to the ground, but that was as far as it went. She held him in a bear hug and the knife clattered harmlessly next to them. 

"Now you want to play a game? I like it!" Acidity smiled.

Killian was dumbfounded by her unquenchable cheeriness and asked the only question that came to mind. "Are you flirting with me or something?"

"How much more obvious do I have to be?"

Killian recoiled as far as he could in his position to get a better look at her. She licked her lips and relaxed under him. He was so confused.

"Why? Why me?"

"Where do I begin? You're cunning, handsome, and always playing hard to get. Not to mention, entrepreneurial. I heard you used to run a business near Hero's Inc."

"That was until heroes like you destroyed it."

"They did?" Acidity loosened her grip on him and her face turned to concern. She genuinely had no idea and Killian was riled up enough to tell her. It was a story he wanted to tell under triumphant circumstances, but these would have to do. 

"It was on our final tournament night. I was facing off against the reigning champion, Pablo Guerrero. The place was packed with people and all was going well. We were throwing our fifth throw of the game when a 'hero' threw one of my patrons in the path of our game. My competitor split that guy's head open."

Acidity was solely focused on him, hearing the pain in his story. She wanted to say something, but knew he needed to finish. 

"People ran in terror and my business reputation was dying by the second. No one was going to come to an axe throwing place where someone died. I knew the guy who got killed and honestly, he probably had it coming based on what I knew of him, yet his death was not enough for that hero. He went into a rage, ranting about how he should've been the one to kill him and burned my entire business to the ground."

"I–didn't know…"

"Apparently no one does. Hero's Inc. swept it under the rug and the insurance company gave me a lousy payout. I was filled with rage and a worthless lot, so I put it all into my new endeavor. Making those heroes pay for what they did."

"Do you know who it was?"

Killian shook his head. Acidity felt the anger slowly leave him and turn to despair. She had an uncontrollable urge to help him, even if he was a villain. Acidity wiggled out from under him and helped him up.

"Can you just take me to my cell already? I won't fight you anymore."

Acidity picked up the knife and brought him to the T intersection at the end of the hall. One way led to the jail, the other to the exit. The sign stared back at them, making it impossible to not know which way to go. She gave it a good long look before taking him to the right…to the exit. 

"What are you doing?" Killian said, trying to look behind to see her face as she forced him forward. 

"I'm taking you to your cell."

"The cells are back that way."

"Not yours," she said and kicked open the door. Outside there was a row of police vehicles in the motor pool. She uncuffed him and pointed to the passenger side door of the nearest vehicle. "Get in."

He didn't protest and got inside. Once she was in, she turned the key already in the ignition and handed him his throwing knife. Killian was conflicted. His enemy was handing him the weapon he was going to kill her with. How could she be so trusting to a criminal like him?

He lurched back in his seat as she floored it. "Why are you doing this?"

"It might come as a shocker to you, but I actually like you."

"You do?"

"Yes! How many different ways do I have to say it?"

"You're willing to throw away your life as a hero for me?"

She shrugged and took a hard turn out of the lot. "What can I say, I've got a thing for men who throw axes. And that 'hero' won't be brought to justice with you behind bars, now will he?"

Killian smiled. He had not expected his nemesis to be so merciful to him. His heart softened, finally finding someone who actually cared about his tragedy. The lights of the city flashed by as she sped through the city and his view of her changed forever.

"So, what was that game you were playing at home again?"

"Haley's Wild Adventure!" she beamed, glancing at him for a second. 

"Does it live up to Acidity's Wild Adventure?"

Acidity swerved to avoid another car and pulled into an alley before throwing it in park. "You can call me, Acey."

Killian leaned over the center column, moving in closer to her. "Well, Acey, now that you have accepted my quest, how can I repay you for your bravery?"

"I can think of a few ideas."

Their heads moved closer at a steady pace, each wondering when the other would go for it. Acidity could only wait so long before her impatience got the best of her. Their lips collided and her hands pulled him closer. She mauled his face like a hungry lioness, hoping to get every last bit from him. Killian unwillingly protected himself from her frenzy, accidentally flicking on the lights and sirens when trying to keep his balance. It brought her back to the reality at hand. They were in a stolen police car and drawing attention. She ripped her lips away from him and kicked open her door.

"Let's get out of here. My place is more comfortable anyways," Acidity said.

"Led the way."

***

Some Villains Actually Retire

There was no response to his question at first. The only noise around the disheveled old man were some orioles chirping by the nearby pond. A normal person would have never noticed such a sneaky foe. Cranshaw was not a normal person. He knew his past would catch up to him, but he expected it to be more…swift.

The hero's frustration hid behind his ridiculous excuse for a disguise. A strip of black felt partially covered his face. Otherwise he opted to wear a straw hat and overalls like he thought the locals would wear. There was a chance the hero would have blended in if he had more shit on his boots and dirt on his face. Instead he was clean shaven and his clothes looked brand new. Far from normal in this part of the country.

Thoughts swirled in the hero's head on what to do next. He wanted to strike while he had the upper hand, but Cranshaw had a reputation. Traps and cultivating a false sense of security was his specialty. After much internal protest, he went with the best option and his worst skill. Talking.

"Why do you walk to your home? Can't you afford a truck?" the hero asked.

Cranshaw smiled. "Ah, he speaks. Too bad you don't hear good."

"I hear plenty fine!"

"So your listening ain't so good? Or do you always answer a question with another question?"

"What?" The hero said in frustration, confused by his question.

"I asked how long you plan on following me? Or have you forgotten already?"

The hero leapt in the air and landed in front of Cranshaw. Dust kicked up from the dry path upon landing, but did nothing to intimate the old man. All it did was stop him in his tracks. 

"What game are you playing?" The hero asked, pointing his accusatory finger.

Cranshaw looked at the paper bag full of groceries in his arm and then back at the barely masked hero. "Probably solitaire. I would invite you, but it kind of defeats the purpose of the game."

"Don't be smart with me. Or I'll have to rough you up, old man."

Cranshaw broke out into a fit of laughter that brought the hero's enthusiasm down a peg. "What do you think you will gain from that? The code to my 'secret lair.'"

"Where is it?"

"Where is what?" Cranshaw asked, trying to get his laughter under control.

"Your secret lair."

Cranshaw stopped and gave him a dumbfounded look. "Are you serious? You think I have a secret lair?"

"All you villains do!"

Cranshaw shook his head and tried to walk past him. This hero was way off the reservation in more than one way. Clearly he didn't get the memo. I'm retired.

The hero didn't let him pass, pressing his palm against Cranshaw's chest. "I'm not leaving without that location."

Cranshaw could handle the ignorance, but once those hands touched him, it was too late. In an instant, Cranshaw grabbed the offending hand. Bones crunched and snapped under his overpowered grip. The hero fell to his knees in pain, screaming so loud the birds flew away. Cranshaw stared into the hero's eyes, seeing the pain and fear therein.

"Leave me be and I will not rip it off." Cranshaw's voice was stern and his stare was piercing. In his past, such a mercy was reserved for a select few.  

"You'll have to do better than that! I don't quit so easily." The hero tried to rip his hand out of the vice grip, only making matters worse. His wrist bones separated from his forearm, yet did not break the skin, leaving his wrist limp and bruised. "Argghh!"

Cranshaw let go of the worthless hand. This hero was like many he faced. No meaningful power worth a damn, yet an ego the size of a mountain. He kicked the hero once for good measure.

"Go home, kid. If an old retiree like me can hurt you, I imagine you'll end up dead in no time."

"I will never! People like you are why I became a hero in the first place!"

"People like me?" Cranshaw said, wondering what kind of brain washing was going on at Hero's Inc. "Do you have any idea what you are saying?"

"You terrorized the great people of Callen with Jaster for years. They deserve justice!"

"You should be counting your lucky stars I don't tell Jaster about you. My retirement plan is a comprehensive one."

"Villains don't retire. Jaster never did, despite what everyone says. Why would you be any different?"

Cranshaw stepped to the side and picked a bright red apple out of his bag. "Because I'm old. He isn't." He tossed the apple to the hero and walked away, leaving him a parting word of wisdom. "Take my advice and quit this profession. Last thing you want is to end up on Jaster's list."

The hero watched his foe walk away as if it was another day. He couldn't live with himself if he didn't give it his all. Taking the apple he was given, the hero squared himself up and launched it at Cranshaw's head. It was a foolish move.

Cranshaw whirled around to catch it just in time. Without losing momentum, he continued his spin for another rotation and returned it to the sender. With no time to react, the apple hit its target directly in the jaw. It sounded like a baseball being hit out of the park, except instead of cheering fans, there was a morbidly dislocated jaw. The hero moaned in pain and panic as he rolled around in the dirt, unable to utter words or stop his own agony. 

"Consider it an act of mercy…" Cranshaw began and turned to walk away. "An apple a day will keep Jaster away."

***

A Henchman Screwed Up

A lone henchmen in a yellow jumpsuit paced back and forth outside his boss's office. He knew what it was about. The bank job.

It was supposed to be flawless with no casualties. They had a man on the inside and all that needed to be done was take the money. Unfortunately, not all jobs go according to plan.

"I am ready for you, Jenkins," Jaster called to his henchman.

Jenkins took a deep breath and opened the door, seeing Jaster leaning back in his comfy chair. He noticed his red tie was loosened and seemed rather relaxed, despite the major screw up that happened yesterday.

"Take a seat." Jaster motioned to the chair on the other side of his paper ridden desk.

Jenkins gingerly approached and sat down, avoiding eye contact. He was sure his boss's calm demeanor was going to snap at any moment. There was silence between them for a few seconds before Jaster realized Jenkins wasn't going to say anything, unless prompted.

"Do you know why you are here?" Jaster asked.

Jenkins lifted his head up to face his fear. He knew better than to disrespect his employer. "Because of my failure at the bank job."

"I wouldn't call what you did a failure, but it has complicated things."

"What can I do to make amends, sir?"

Jaster chuckled and turned his monitor toward Jenkins. "I think you need to see this."

On the screen there were several caped heroes standing around a large monitor. Those heroes were watching surveillance footage of the bank job. The surveillance footage showed the moment Jenkins screwed up big time. He had the cash in a briefcase and was almost out the door when three blue clad heroes stopped in front of him.

Two of the heroes were a young man and woman, no older than twenty. They both had blonde hair and were clearly siblings. The hero in the middle was a muscular, elderly gentleman who wore a white skullcap on his head and wielded a wrench the size of a sledgehammer. Jenkins didn't need to watch to know what happened next.

"Stop right there," the elderly hero said.

Jenkins pulled out his handgun and shakily pointed it at the heroes, which was met with laughter.

"What do you think you are going to do with that?" The younger man proclaimed, almost doubled over laughing.

"I guess he hasn't heard of us," the woman said between breaths.

The elderly man spun the wrench in his hands and smiled. "Put the gun down and I won't cripple you for life."

"Move aside old man! I don't want to hurt you."

"Chrissy. Carl." The elderly man said to his sidekicks. "Would you like to do the honors this time?"

"Gladly."

Before Jenkins could react, Chrissy and Carl appeared on both sides of him and held his arms. Jenkins tried to resist, but their grip on him only tightened as he struggled. He tried to pull the trigger out of desperation, but Carl's hand slid along Jenkins's forearm, up to his hand and broke his trigger finger.

Jenkins screamed in pain and dropped the suitcase, but stubbornly held onto the gun.

"Drop the gun too, or I'll break another finger," Carl ordered.

"Hey, save some fingers for me, bro," Chrissy said.

"Take it easy you two. He's just a henchman. Save it for a real villain." The elderly man marched up to him and lifted Jenkins's head up with his giant wrench. "I'm giving you a chance to walk away. All you have to do is tell me who hired you."

"I can't do that."

"Yes you can." The elderly man glanced at the gun still shaking in Jenkins hand. "Drop the gun. Let's talk this out."

Jenkins closed his eyes and did as he was told. The gun clattered to the ground and discharged three times. Jenkins flinched as the shots went off and the three heroes fell to the floor. In a panic, Jenkins picked up the briefcase and ran for the door. The surveillance footage cut out as Jenkins accidentally kicked his own gun, which shot out the camera in the bank. It was all the heroes in the room needed to see to come to their own conclusion.

"He is no henchman," one of the heroes chimed in.

"Clearly that was an accident," another hero said, pointing at the now blank screen. "Guns are dangerous."

"That was no accident. A gun doesn't fall to the ground and mow down an entire family of heroes. It was intentional. He knew who he was facing and lured them into a false sense of security. We need to take this threat seriously. Even Jaster couldn't take out Wrenchman by himself."

There were murmurs among the group, all trying to talk at once before a different voice stood out from the bunch.

"What should we do now?" another hero asked.

Before any of the heroes could answer, Franz walked through the double doors, ready to answer that question. "Star Princess, I want you to check on Wrenchman's kids. They are in stable condition. Make sure they don't get any ideas of going on a vendetta."

"I hate when you use my hero name. Just call me–"

Franz put his finger over his lips. "Hero names only. I looked into Wrenchman's files. He was tracking this mystery man's communications for some time. This was a highly sophisticated job that required lots of resources. I wouldn't put it past whoever is behind this that they could have counter surveillance capability."

"You can't be serious? You think we have been bugged?"

"If they can have an inside man at the bank, why not here?"

Jaster turned the monitor away and shut it off, watching Jenkins's reaction. His terrified face stared back at Jaster.

"Boss…they think I am a super villain."

"They sure do."

"Bu–but I'm not. It was an accident."

Jaster nodded his head. "I know. In hindsight I should've never given you a gun for something so trivial. Now they are going to want blood for blood."

"They're gonna kill me?"

Jaster got up from his seat and went around the desk. He put his hand on Jenkins's shoulder. "You aren't going to die. I'll make sure of that."

"How?"

"Leave that to me. In the meantime, keep up the good work. I appreciate your dedication to discretion, but I won't put you in a position like that again."

Jenkins didn't know what to say, stunned to see he got off so easily. He heard stories of how henchmen were treated with other villains, so he expected such a screw up to yield similar results.

"Am I…free to go?"

"Of course, but not before a little word of advice," Jaster said.

Jenkins gulped, thinking this was it. Here comes the switcheroo.

"When you're outnumbered, surrender. Creates unnecessary health insurance claims."

"I have health insurance?" Jenkins asked in astonishment.

"Holy shit." Jaster went over to the door. "Jenny, did you not tell our new employees they have health benefits?"

Around the corner, there was frantic clicking of a keyboard. "Umm…it might have slipped my mind."

Jaster sighed. "Well you can't clock out until you have told everyone."

Dainty footsteps came rushing to the door as a red haired young woman came into the office. Her thick black frame glasses barely stayed on her nose as she hugged a clipboard.

"Please, Jaster. Can I do it tomorrow? I have a baseball game to go to with my boyfriend tonight."

"I recall buying you those tickets."

Jenny whimpered, doing her best impression of a sad puppy dog pout. Jaster wasn't one to succumb to such actions, but he hated his money going to waste. Also, Jenny was otherwise a great employee. No one quite handled accounting problems like she did, not to mention any errands he needed done in a hurry.

"Fine. For the record though, I still don't approve of your boyfriend. You can find better than him."

Jenny gave him a big hug. "Thank you! You're the best boss ever!"

"Don't say that too loud or everyone is going to think I've gone soft. It's a pain to have to assert my authority the old fashion way," Jaster said and got her off of him. She smiled up at him, waiting for him to finish his thought. "Get Jenkins a copy of his health insurance card so he can get that hand looked at."

"Will do!"

Jenkins watched as Jenny pranced off to get his card. It was strange working for a villain who seemed so… caring. Word on the street was Jaster was a ruthless villain who made heroes piss themselves at the mere mention of his name. The man he saw here was a far cry from the stories he was told.

Jaster turned back to look at Jenkins, noticing the confusion hidden in his eyes. Jaster knew of his own reputation and how important it was to maintain a balance of fear with respect.

"I want you to know, when you work for me, you are my family. I will treat you fairly and watch out for you. If you betray my family though, you will be dealt with." Jaster picked up a stress ball on his desk and crushed it with one hand. The ball made an audible pop and was doomed to never regain its original form as he tossed it in the garbage. "You understand."

"Yes, sir."

"Drop the sir stuff. Call me Jaster. Everyone else does."

***

Day Job

All my plans were working out. My villainous empire was growing with every passing day. Henchmen were begging to join my crew. I had so many options, we had to stop hiring in Q4. Hell, we grew so big, we had to use terms like Q4 and product viability. Everything was smooth sailing, but I asked myself why. Why was this so easy? I found out the answer was a simple one. My nemesis had a day job.

Now the city is a big one with plenty of other superheroes and villains like me. Out of all the heroes who could stop my plans, only one bothered. Dark Porter. It was a manageable problem, but I felt like he was ramping up to something bigger, so I sent some of my henchman to find out who he really was. When they got back to me, I couldn't believe it. He worked as a grocer. I was being foiled by a minimum wage employee. 

Unfortunately, it wasn't the worst part of their report. Dark Porter was indeed ramping up for a big attack. Inside his apartment, my team found a map of all my sites and an elaborate plan to take me down. The only problem was his day job prevented him from enacting it. 

It gave me some relief until they also mentioned another wrinkle. Dark Porter's boss was a staunch anti-hero establishment (a man after my own heart) and Dark Porter had a thing for talking to customers about his heroic escapades. It was only a matter of time before his secret identity was revealed. Which would get him fired and have more time to commit to taking down all I worked for. It was unacceptable, so I had to do the unthinkable. Save his job.

I would send a few henchmen a week to watch him and ensure his identity stayed a secret. It worked well for a few months until a few of my guys called in sick. It fell on a busy day, leaving no one to cover it…but me. 

Logistics were going to be the most difficult part, since I assigned five guys throughout the day. It meant at least five different disguises for me, all of which needed to be extreme enough that he wouldn't recognize my dashing good looks. Luckily, I had a car full of wigs, fake mustaches, and wacky clothes. 

I strolled into the store around nine and was greeted by aisles filled with food. It was your standard grocery affair: cereal, snacks, canned chicken, disgusting vegetables, and frozen delights. My job was supposed to be a simple one, keep his identity a secret. It turned out to be, help him do his job. 

When I spotted my nemesis, he was balancing a stack of boxed steaks taller than him. His erratic movement was begging for him to crash into the display of stacked sodas. I could see the image of him slamming into them and cans flying everywhere, coating the floor in sticky sugar. It would be quite the mess…maybe one worth getting fired over. I couldn't take that chance, so I had to become the unspeakable. His hero. 

I sprung into action, catching the falling stack before my day dream became reality and ruined my life. Dark Porter stared back at me, surprised by my quick speed and dexterity. Although, at the time, I thought he saw through my disguise.

"Careful, you don't want to drop these," I said and held my hand on the rest of his stack to stop more from sliding off.

"Thank you, sir."

"Don't mention it. Where are we going with these?"

"Over here," he said, walking to the ground freezers. 

I helped him put them away and he shook my hand. His smile was genuine, yet his posture was slouched. He seemed almost defeated. Pathetic. A far cry from the hero who ransacked my warehouse last weekend. It was such a far cry, I couldn't believe he was my nemesis. 

"Thanks again, mister…"

"Donald. Donald Hanagain," I lied. Donald Hanagain was the name I always used in public, even if I was with family. And I certainly couldn't go around telling people my villain name.

"Derrick Porter," he said and shook my hand again. 

The longer I shook his hand, the more I realized my fake mustache was losing its grip on me. I left him without another word and walked as quickly as I could down the nearest aisle. The black caterpillar on my lips fell into my hands as a fellow customer walked by. She gave me the most judgemental look I have ever seen. I hate judgemental looks.

"Give me a break, not everyone can grow a stache as good as you lady."

She instinctively touched her face, and I chuckled to myself as I walked by. Nothing quite made my day like making people feel insecure. It was a hobby, which I didn't get to practice much. My henchmen were a good group, so I never did it to them. But everyone else was fair game. 

Anyways, as the day went on, I had to go in and out of the store, shopping as vastly different people each time. I bought way too much food, but I needed to be there to watch over Derrick. He was a bigger klutz than I thought. First, I saved his apple stack from cascading all over, then again in the frozen food section when he almost knocked out an old lady with a ladder. It hurt like a bitch, but a small sacrifice so he didn't destroy the old lady. Bosses love to fire people who hurt the elderly, no matter the circumstance. 

After that, I stopped his ladder from falling when he was changing the fall decorations. As much as an injury would have helped me, a little kid was playing nearby. Her mom, Ashley, was flirting with some guy in aisle three, leaving the little one too oblivious to understand the danger of playing near ladders. Or that if you shake the ladder, people can fall. 

After I gave her a tongue lashing and her mom my number, I had to bail Derrick out again. I put up the slipping hazard sign near the section of floor he mopped before someone could fall. Such an easy thing to do and he forgot. The longer I was there, the more I felt like his mother, cleaning up after his messes. Once it got close to close, I relaxed, thinking he couldn't possibly get fired at the end of the shift. I was wrong.

While I was pretending to shop for the seventh box of fruity pebbles on the day, Derrick's boss stormed up to him. His eyes were serious and his bald head reflected the fluorescent light above like a lighthouse. It was seriously hard to look at when he moved his head at the right angle. 

"Derrick, I need to talk to you," his boss said, tone teetering on anger. 

Derrick looked up from changing one of the price signs on the strawberries. "Yes, Mr. Bonoch?"

"Do you want to tell me why several of our patrons have been cleaning up after you?"

"I don't know what you mean?"

Mr. Bonoch poked him in the chest. "Don't play dumb with me. I watch the cameras."

"I–I'm not."

"You are either lying to me or you are the most incompetent employee I have ever had. Take your pick."

Derrick stood there with his eyes darting back and forth across his boss's face, unable to find the words. I almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

"You know what…" Mr. Bonoch sighed, in an attempt to calm down. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and said what I was trying to avoid. "You're fired."

"No! Sir, please," he got on his knees and begged. It was embarrassing to watch. "I'll do better."

"I don't think you can. Clock out and go home. You can pick up your check on Friday."

Mr. Bonoch walked away, leaving Derrick all alone on the clean floor. My mission had failed and it was the beginning of the end of my empire. As I'm recording this right now, my last warehouse is being raided by the police. I guess he wanted the commoners to have a victory every once and a while…wait…I think I know how to turn around my problems.

What if I…kidnap his former boss and put him in Derrick 's apartment. Give the police a hot tip and BAM! Nemesis gone. I like that. Oh, I better delete this recording. Where is the delete button again? There it is. Deleted. All done. Out of sight, out of mind. I better call Ashley. This will be a fun date night.

***

A Date With A Nemesis

"And if you refuse…wait…what did you say?" Manderand asked from the ledge of the building in order to stand taller than her. His black trenchcoat stopped flapping in the wind, as if it too was shocked by his nemesis's words.

"I said I would love to go on a date with you," Captain Hearts said in a cheery, high pitched voice. Her signature heart shaped red cape waved in the wind.

Manderand blinked several times. He thought it would be a punishment for her, but she seemed enthusiastic. There must be an angle she was playing. 

"You're screwing with me, right?"

She shook her head. "Nope."

Manderand framed his face with his hands, bringing attention to his marred face from several battles with the deep fryer. Co-workers can be cruel like that. "Have you not seen my face?" They don't call me, The Burn Victim, for nothing."

"I like a man with scars. It tells a story I haven't heard yet. And you have a lot," she said and licked her lips.

He had no idea what to say to that. She was the first woman to not find his face hideous. Hell, even his own mother thought he was gross. Yet standing below him was a petite young woman, who looked ready to devour him instead of fight him. 

"Don't you even want to hear what I am planning?"

"I do! Where are you taking me? I love seafood, but I am up for anything!"

Manderand stepped down from the ledge, partially in defeat. "I meant about my diabolical plan for the city…"

"You can tell me all about it at dinner. So, where and when?"

"Um… tonight?"

"Then I better get dressed. Pick me up at seven. 505 Squirrel Avenue North." Captain Hearts blew him a kiss and skipped away to the rooftop door.

"Captain Hearts," Manderand called to her before she left. 

"Call me April," she said, sending back a flirty smile. "I'll see you later."

She left him on the top of the building with his thoughts, which were all upside down. He expected this to be a tooth pulling experience, yet she was more than willing. A part of him wanted to believe she was genuinely interested, but the realistic part of his brain screamed it was a trap. She is leading me into a trap at her place, if it even is her place. What kind of superhero would give their address to their nemesis?

"Oh, I'm not letting you get out of this date that easily."

***

Manderand arrived at the place. 505 Squirrel Avenue North. It was five thirty and he was sure he beat her there, since he took his quadcopter. No better way to travel around the city, including the suburbs. He parked it out of sight, so his position wouldn't be given away and went up to the simple, one floor brown house. The roof and siding was brand new and lawn gnomes littered her freshly cut lawn. He walked up the cobblestone path to her front door, the whole time feeling he was being watched. Little did he know, the gnomes indeed turned in place, facing him at all times. 

He tried the handle and the door opened. It creaked as he watched the door slowly open to reveal an empty hall with a hardwood floor.

"I bet there is a trip wire somewhere," he said to himself, but after his search came up empty, he went inside. 

To his right, there was a small living room with a love cushion in the shape of a heart. The cushion faced a small TV on a wooden TV stand. All the Muppet DVDs were on display below the TV and a few romantic comedies. He had to admit, puppets were pretty awesome, even if he was more of an Elmo fan. Continuing on, the kitchen was to the left with chinese takeout boxes filling the sink. Otherwise, it was all clean and average looking. 

"How does a tiny thing like her put away all that food?" Manderand said and noticed something skit across the hall into the open door ahead. "I saw you. Come on out."

There was no response. His heart thumped in his chest, moving closer to the partially opened door. He fumbled for his lighter, which was his main weapon of choice. Flame always listened to him as long as it got started first. He clicked his lighter on and the flame followed the motion of his other hand. He pointed his hand like a blade and the flame followed suit, bending in the same direction.

Manderand got to the door and took a deep breath. I'm going to get you.

He jumped into the room and an orange tabby cat sprung off the pink and white bed. Its meows showed frustration with his interruption. Those same meows also startled him, causing him to shoot fire at her lamp. It came in like a dart, turning the lamp shade ablaze immediately.

"Oh, shit!" Manderand rushed over to put out the fire. He blew on and swatted at it, but it still kept spreading. He ripped it from the outlet and lifted it away from the rest of her bedroom. His eyes scanned her room, trying to find a way to put out the fire. His house never had this problem. Almost nothing was easily flammable and he made sure to have plenty of water around. Here though, it was a fire paradise. Everything was flammable. Then he spotted the bathroom. "Perfect!"

He hucked the lamp into the toilet and it shattered into pieces, mostly all collecting in the bowl. The crash echoed out of the room, but he was relieved the fire was out. Nothing screamed "I was in your house" more than a house burned to the ground. Manderand made short work of the extra pieces and flushed down the evidence of his presence. He washed his hands, when he heard the outside door close. 

"Muffin, I'm home," Captain Hearts announced to her cat. 

Manderand shut off the sink. She was home sooner than he thought and he hadn't found her trap yet. He needed to hide. His head turned to the shower. No, she will get cleaned up here. He tip toed out of the bathroom room and heard her footsteps in the hall. There was no time to waste, so he sprinted as quietly as he could to the open closet and closed it. The light shined through the narrow slats in the closet door. It made him feel exposed, but he was confident his hiding spot would hold up. He turned one of the slats up so he could time his escape. 

On the bed, he saw Captain Hearts hugging her cat, oblivious to his presence.

"Oh, Muffin. I am having the best day today! You won't believe what happened!" Captain Hearts said. 

"Meow," Muffin said.

"He asked me out. Can you believe it? Me! It took all my strength not to kiss him," she said and laid back on the bed. "I promise I played it cool. You should've seen me."

"Meow."

"You're right. I need to get dressed. But what should I wear?" she asked her cat and sat up. "I can't wear this. I don't want him thinking of work. What do you think he finds desirable?"

"Meow."

"Something different. Okay… maybe purple! Yeah, purple will work." She sprung up from the bed and skipped to the closet. 

Manderand didn't know what to do. There was nowhere to go and he couldn't fight his way out. All this time, there was a woman out there interested in him, but he was about to torpedo it by being found in her closet. He closed his eyes, not wanting to see her reaction. 

The left closet door opened and she snatched a purple evening gown from her wardrobe, completely unaware that a few inches away was her date for the evening. If Manderand could let out a sigh of relief, he would have. Too bad she was still within ear shot as she slipped out of her hero outfit. Manderand didn't dare look. He already violated her privacy once today.

Captain Hearts's little feet slapped against the floor of her bathroom and the sound of running water leaked into the bedroom. It was his cue to get out while he still could. Manderand did a quick once over of the room and scrambled to leave before he was spotted.

"Meow!" Muffin screeched as Manderand accidentally stepped on its tail. 

"Muffin, what's wrong?"

Manderand's eyes got big and he sprinted out of the room. His desperation made him clumsy, causing him fall. He crawled back to his feet and got to the door when her voice sailed through the air once again.

"Manderand?" Captain Hearts said, standing in the hallway with only a long white towel around her chest. Water dropped from her wet hair onto the floor. "You're early."

Manderand turned to face her, thinking she must not have noticed him running to the door, given his response. "I… hope that is okay. I noticed your door was open and–"

"Of course. I was just getting ready. Make yourself comfortable."

Manderand pretended to close the door and sat down on the loveseat. The little beads made a waterfall sound of comfort he had never heard before. His eyebrows raised at the pleasant surprise, but he fell out of his seat when he heard her voice next to him. 

"I'm ready!" Captain Hearts said, smiling ear to ear. 

He gazed upon her and time stopped in her presence. The dazzling purple gown commanded his attention, pairing nicely with her white flats. Her jet black hair shined from still being wet. 

"Woah, you look… great," he said, wondering how she got dressed so quickly.

"Thanks!"

"I feel a bit underdressed…"

"I didn't realize you wore anything other than trenchcoats," she said more as a matter of fact. 

Well, shit. I guess I don't. How have I never noticed that? "Still, you look so nice and I–"

She put her finger over his lips. Her smile and eyes were gentle as she looked into his eyes. "You look great. I wouldn't have you any other way."

It was the first time he had been touched in years, let alone by hands as soft as hers. People always gave him a wide berth, but she was face to face with him. His grotesque face didn't cause her to vomit or rush to the bathroom to rub off whatever she touched. Instead, she almost seemed to struggle to take her finger away, lingering for a few seconds. 

Manderand's heart fluttered, fully believing she was interested in him. He had to make this date one they would never forget. Lucky for him, he actually planned a good one. 

"Do you like to fly?"

***

"Woohoo!" Captain Hearts screamed with her fists in the air. She sat behind Manderand with her bare legs tangled around his waist as a makeshift seatbelt. They were flying well above the tallest building in the city. "Can you do a barrel roll in this thing?"

Manderand smirked. "Can I? You better hold on tight."

She put her arms around his chest and rested her chin on his shoulder. Her breath smelt like cherry candies and she whispered into his ear. "I'm ready when you are."

He turned the joysticks and the entire vehicle flipped over. Her hair fell straight down for a second or two as she looked in awe of the city lights below. It was a sight she had never seen before. Then gravity started to take hold. They descended fast as the props began to fail one by one.

"Uh oh," Manderand said, moving the sticks and tapping on several buttons on the front console.

Captain Hearts didn't respond, clinging tighter as they began accelerating toward the lights. Manderand ignored the constriction of his muscles, frantically trying to get his flying machine going the proper direction. The props spun again, but it only accelerated their descent. Manderand had exhausted his flying options and with the buildings getting closer, he had only one option left. He slapped the big red button off to the right and a parachute came shooting out the back. Captain Hearts screamed from the sudden loud ejection, but their worries were about to end.

The parachute caught the air and jerked them up, turning their dramatic fall into a glide reminiscent of floating from a cloud. Captain Hearts was still tightly clung to Manderand, burrowing her face into his neck, shaking uncontrollably.

"April, it's okay. The parachute deployed."

"Parachute?" she asked, opening one of her eyes. Once she realized they weren't going to suffer a grizzly death, her body relaxed and lifted her head up. "Heh… would you look at that?"

Manderand didn't know what to say or do next. His little stunt stranded them in the air for the next few minutes. It was easier when he was flying. He didn't have to talk if he didn't want to. And at the restaurant, there would be food in his mouth to buy him time to think. Here, there was nothing but gusts of wind. Thankfully, Captain Hearts made it easier for him.

"It is beautiful up here."

"Yeah… it is…"

Captain Hearts let out a relaxing sigh. "Thanks for taking me up here. I always wanted to see the city from the clouds."

"Really?"

"Yep. If I could, I would always be up here," she said and rested her head against him.

"You know, you didn't have to be a superhero. You could've been a pilot."

"And crash land inside one of these lovely buildings. I don't think so." Captain Hearts laughed along with Manderand, both imagining her flying through the Hero's Inc building. "Besides, who would stop you from destroying the city?"

"I think you have already done that."

Captain Hearts turned to face him, grazing his skin with her nose. Manderand thought for sure she would recoil away from him, but she didn't.

"Can I ask you a personal question?"

He shrugged. "Sure."

"Why did you become a villain?"

He looked down at the ground. "I guess ever since… this." He gestured to his face, ashamed of his appearance.

"What happened?"

"I was working at Delano's Hamburgers."

"The one on fifth and grand?"

"Yeah. There were some coworkers who thought it would be funny to dunk me in the deep fryer."

Captain Hearts squeezed him. "No. Are you serious?"

"I wish I wasn't." Manderand could feel her concern. His mother was like that initially… until the bandages came off. "After that, I tried to get justice through the system, but none of them served a second in jail. The worst thing that happened to them was they got fired, but so did I. Delano couldn't afford to have his burger reputation ruined by a freak like me. I guess my mom had the same idea. Left me soon after as well."

She moved her left hand to turn his face toward her, ensuring they made eye contact. "You didn't deserve that."

"And you don't deserve this."

"What do you mean?"

"I forced you on a date. Threatened to burn the whole city to the ground if you didn't. You deserve someone more kind and attractive..."

"First off, you didn't force anything. I never even knew about your plan until just now. I wanted to go out with you. And second, you are attractive. Maybe not to everyone, but to me you are."

"You're just saying–"

He didn't get to finish his sentence before she laid a passionate kiss on his mangled lips. Manderand didn't know what to do as he felt her tongue creep into his mouth. It was enchanting to him. A simple touch was already more than enough, but a kiss turned his mind to mush. He wanted to stay in that moment forever, but gravity had other ideas. Their bodies jostled as their vehicle landed on top of one of the taller buildings. Their tender kiss was over, but not how they felt about each other.

She smiled at him and caressed his cheek. "I hope I wasn't too forward. I've been waiting to do that for a long time."

"No… it was nice."

"Just nice?" she teased.

"No! Better than nice. It was–it was–"

He was interrupted once again by her laughter. "You know, you're cute when you're flustered."

Manderand did a quick glance around the top of the building. "Well, what do you say we get out of here and I take you out for dessert?"

"Or maybe we make out up here for a few more minutes and then go pay those burger flipping bastards a visit?" she asked and spun around his waist to face him.

"Woah, I thought you were a hero?" Manderand asked, smiling at the idea of spending more time on her lips.

"I think it would be a pretty heroic act to get justice for my boyfriend."

"I'm your boyfriend now? Wow, you certainly move fast."

"Moving slow is overrated," Captain Hearts said and began sucking on his neck.

"Can't argue with that."

And thus began their passionate make out session. She ended up rolling them out of the vehicle and on to the rock laden floor. Neither cared about what lied beneath them or who was watching them from an adjacent building. A woman in a yellow jumpsuit had her binoculars trained on the new couple and tapped the earpiece in her ear.

"Boss, I have a recording you're gonna want to see."

***

FORE!

"Have at me, you one eyed ass sniffer!" Jessie said from the mast of a pirate ship on hole nine of Barnacle Bill's Mini Putt Putt. He waved his club at the raging menace below him, who was dressed like a poor man's Jack Sparrow.

"Why don't you come down here instead of running like a coward!" the villain said in a Scottish accent and drew a rusty rapier that sizzled when exposed to the open air. 

Jessie looked around, making sure the rest of the people were gone. His next pass was to the horizon, praying an actual hero would come to bail him out… again. It had become sort of a regular occurrence at this point. He had a knack for being in the wrong place at the right time. For the last month, he had been getting into situations reserved for real heroes: Evil geniuses attacking comic cons, modified humans robbing banks, a dominatrix hunting single men to kill and other crazy situations. His mind wandered back to the fond memories of the dominatrix from last week. Sure, she tried to kill him, but the way Natasha looked at him when she was being hauled off made him think there was a chance for them. A stupid grin grew on his face before he was brought back to reality from a dagger flying past his head. 

"The next one goes through your head!" the villain yelled.

"Fine, I'll come down. Geez." Jessie grabbed a hold of the rope and kicked off the mast, swinging down, feet first into the villain. The villain fell back on the cushy green course, narrowly missing a paver brick. "Don't get up, or I'll vaporize you with my mind."

The villain clambered to his feet. "You can fool everyone else laddy, but you can't fool me. I know you're not a superhero."

"Denial is an ugly thing, but if it makes you feel better when you are resting in a cell tonight, who am I to deny you such a delusion." Jessie raised his club, ready for a sword fight. 

The villain grunted and took a stab at him. Jessie parried the strike and followed up with a proper lunge of his own. All it did was push him back a little bit, despite his impeccable form and follow through. The villain took a step back and laughed at his ineffective attack.

"What was that?"

A clean parry riposte. Still got to work on my distance I guess. "Me playing with you. Don't make me reveal my secret power."

"The only power I see is you being annoying." The villain swung at him and Jessie barely blocked it. This time, however, the golf club split in half, leaving Jessie with a mangled shaft and a blue handle. The villain pressed the attack, keeping the blade near Jessie's neck. Jessie backpedaled until he was stopped by the mast at his back.

Jessie let out a groan from the surprise of the sudden stop. "Okay, fine I'll let you go, but just this once."

The villain grinned, showing off his gold teeth, which were spaced every other one. "Admit you're not a superhero and I'll spare your life."

"But I am one. I have powers and everything–ow." Jessie said, catching a flake of rust that spit off from the sword like it was a grease fire. 

"I gave you a chance. At least I can tell my therapist I tried to be merciful."

The villain went for the kill, but Jessie was faster, knocking the villain's blade off target with what was left of his club. Jessie went forward and headbutted him.

"I told you I have superpowers."

"What… might… that… be?" the villain asked with each swing of his blade, missing the mark every time he tried to hit his agile opponent.

Jessie jumped back from the villain's last swing. "Impeccable timing."

"Fore!" someone else yelled from the boardwalk and a golf ball came whizzing by, colliding with the villain's neck. 

The villain held his neck and stumbled into the wall of the ship. His eyes turned to the direction from which the golf ball came in.

Walking onto the ship was a young man with wavy blonde hair, blue eyes, and a classic summer golf attire. His white polo was pristine, albeit partially hidden by the large contraption in his arms. It was basically a drum-fed potato launcher covered in stickers from all the major golf brands. The young man adjusted his grip, showing off the heft of the device. 

"You shoot me with that again, I'll shove my–" 

Those were the villain's last words before getting pummeled with a torrent of golf balls. The first burst hit him center mass. His ribs cracked louder than the thuds of the brightly colored balls made against his clothes. He tried to inhale and tensed his body in pain from the bones likely sticking into his lungs. The next volley was even more effective. 

Going fully automatic, the golf balls pummeled his head, bashing his teeth back into his mouth and cracking his skull. The young man with the golf ball slinger walked closer, focused on keeping up the head shots. The golf balls bounced off the villain's head until it didn't, lodging one in each eye socket and who knows how many down his throat. Jessie watched in absolute shock as this random guy caved in the villain's face. Golf balls rolled around the green and a few even went in the hole near Jessie's feet.

When the gun went click without another ball being sent into the mushed skull of the villain, the young man turned to Jessie, whose mouth was agape. "Don't worry, citizen. It looks worse than it is. He's still alive." The villain slumped over and his head mushed against his own shoulder, showing little proof the structure of his skull was even intact. "Hmmm… maybe not."

"You killed him," Jessie said, still comprehending the assault. 

"He had a sword. It was self defense. You're just in shock."

"But you killed him. Heroes don't kill villains."

"No, heroes don't kill citizens. Big difference," the young man said and extended his hand in greeting. "The name is Halvastair Malinski. You may also know me as The Guardian of The Ninth."

Jessie had heard of him. He was the protector of all things fairways and greens. If there was an unruly patron or a sinister villain wishing harm upon the great game of golf or its goofy little brother, he was there to deliver swift justice. Jessie glanced down at Halvastair's legs, which were made of titanium golf club shafts. Jessie had heard the rumors that Halvastair's legs were putters and the khaki shorts put those rumors to rest in his mind. Jessie shook his hand, but found it hard to focus on anything but the mushed body on the boat. 

"What are you going to do with him?"

Halvastair shrugged. "Toss him to the gators. Nobody who disturbs the sanctity of golf deserves a funeral anyways."

Since when did we have gators? "Well… I'll leave you to it then." Jessie said and slowly backed away toward the exit.

"Wait. Aren't you going to help me?"

"Um… no?" 

"Oh, come on. It will be fun."

Feeding humans to gators isn't fun. "Naw, I have to get to work…"

"I'll get you a signed putter from the clubhouse?"

Jessie paused. His niece always wanted a signature from a hero. Who better than a golf legend and a memento to boot? "Alright, I guess I can be a little late."

"That's the spirit! You grab his legs. I'll get the keys to the gator gate."

And with that, the rest of the afternoon was spent feeding the nameless villain to the hungry gators in a deep pit below the clubhouse. Jessie got to see a side to the mini putt putt course he never imagined existed. If he was honest with himself, he enjoyed it. It made him feel like a part of something special, not to mention Halvastair hooked him up with two signed putters after hearing about Jessie's niece. All in all, it pays to be the hero… or at least wait for one.

***

Secret Identity

FrackLord: Our little superhero did it again.

ColorMeHuman: What's the damage this time?

FrackLord: Three street cameras and one cell phone video. I'm working on stopping the propagation on social media right now. Can you take care of the cameras?

ColorMeHuman: I'll get @Radkey to do it. He is much better than I am at that shit. Where did it happen?

FrackLord: 63rd Street. At the intersection after arresting a purse snatcher.

PussLauncher: There are four private cameras at a minimum facing that intersection. Or did you all forget that is a business district?

ColorMeHuman: That's why we don't do this by ourselves. You going to handle those? 

PussLauncher: Yeah. @BlackHips and I will handle it. Will give me an excuse to come over to her place.

BlackHips entered the chat

BlackHips: @PussLauncher You don't need an excuse. ;)

ColorMeHuman: We're on a time crunch. Are you two going to be able to focus?

PussLauncher: Don't worry about us. We'll get it done.

BlackHips: @ColorMeHuman What are you going to do? 

ColorMeHuman: The hard part…

ColorMeHuman left the chat. 

FrackLord: Always so dramatic.

PussLauncher: We should probably get to it then.

BlackHips: Then get your boney white ass over here.

PussLauncher: Yes ma'am ;)

PussLauncher left the chat. 

FrackLord: I'm almost done with my end of things. How long do you think it will take you two?

BlackHips: If he is properly motivated...less than an hour. 

FrackLord: Do I want to know what that involves?

BlackHips: I'm sure you can guess. 

FrackLord: gags

BlackHips: You're just jealous.

FrackLord: Yep. That's it.

BlackHips: I'll message you when we are done.

FrackLord: With which part?

BlackHips: :)

BlackHips left the chat.

Adam sat at the desk, still dressed in his cyan jumpsuit. His red cape was draped behind his seat as he sat there, reading the chat room conversation on a laptop. Behind him was a man and a woman, both dressed in white polos, waiting for his response. Adam turned his head around to face them.

"What is this?" Adam asked. 

"These are the people who have been hiding your identity. This is just one of their most recent conversations," the woman said, crossing her arms.

"Who are they?"

"Hacktivists. I guess in some ways you could call them your guardian angels," the man said.

"They believe if your identity gets out, several crime syndicates will come for you," the woman added.

"But it has gotten out. People have definitely seen me with my mask off," Adam said.

"Which is all the more impressive. They have been able to scrub all information regarding you on the web."

Adam's head sank. "So, you didn't find anything about me?"

"No. But we did you one better. We found two of the hackers," the woman said. 

"Really? Where?" Adam said, perking up immediately.

There was a thud heard from the other side of the wall and laughing. 

"They are in the next room."

Adam pulled out a roll of hundred dollar bills that was attached to his thick black utility belt. "Thank you. I really appreciate this."

The woman swiped the cash from his hand and counted the money while Adam went into the hallway. He could hear more commotion going on inside the apartment and a woman's muffled scream leaked out of the door. Out of instinct, Adam kicked the door in. The door shot across the apartment until it smashed into the wall. He took a step inside and the room was a mess. Sprawled on the floor was a broken lamp, end table, and even the couch was tipped over. His first whiff of the room was the smell of a pizza getting burnt in the oven. Laying amongst the chaos was a heftier black woman straddling a thinner bald man. Both were wearing headphones and their lips were infused with passion for one another.

"Ahem," Adam said, clearing his throat. The two kept going at it, unaware of his presence. He was at least thankful they were both still fully clothed. "Ahem."

The man released his kiss and his eyes grew to the size of apples when he saw Adam standing there.

"What's wrong?" the woman asked her man before she turned her head and saw Adam. "Adam?"

"Is everything alright here?" Adam asked.

"Yes. Yes, of course! I can't believe you are here. Adam Joreff—I mean Captain—" the woman said, taking off her headphones.

Adam raised his hand up. "No need to call me by my superhero name. It would be like me calling you BlackHips after knowing yours."

"How do you know her username?" the man asked.

"I had just got done reading an interesting conversation in your chatroom or whatever you call it. Do you mind telling me your real names?"

"My name is Jamila. And this is Kenny," she said, getting off of Kenny.

"What do we owe this great honor?" Kenny asked, standing up.

"I thought someone was in danger. Sorry about the door by the way," Adam said.

Jamila blushed and looked at Kenny, who gave her a reciprocal smile. 

"I guess we forgot how loud we get," Kenny said. 

"Is there anything we can get you Cap—I mean Adam?"

"No. I was actually hoping you could help me out with something."

Jamila and Kenny both stood up straight. Their favorite superhero was asking them for help. It took everything in their being not to shout with excitement. 

"Anything for you!" they both said in unison. 

"Great. Do you two still have any photos of me when I am unmasked? I'll take anything I can get."

Jamila blushed again, burning hotter than the sun. She shifted her weight on her feet and avoided eye contact. "I might have one or two."

"I thought we agreed to destroy them all?" Kenny asked Jamila.

"We did...but…" Jamila couldn't finish her sentence, continuing to look at the ground. 

"Can you get them for me?" Adam asked. 

Jamila hesitated for a moment before walking into a back room, passing the door that was pinned into the wall. Kenny waited with Adam in silence, both interested in why she was acting so strange. After some tussling of papers in the other room subsided, she came back with a few worn magazines.

"Here is everything I have of you," Jamila said, handing him the small stack magazines. 

Adam paged through one of them quickly to make sure there was something of him in there. What he discovered was something far more troubling. On every page was a cut out of him or his face, either plastered over the person on the page or she made her own scenes with full images of him and her in…interesting positions. It was not what he was expecting, but he now understood why she was embarrassed. He kept paging through until he found a decent photo that didn't appear to be cropped or modified in any meaningful way. It was of the time he captured the infamous bank robber, Harlet Carie. He literally was holding her up by her hair like a trophy. Adam smiled, recalling the fond memories. He closed the magazine and gave the rest back to her. 

"Thank you for your help on this matter. You have no idea what this means to me."

"We are happy to help!" Kenny said. "What is it for?"

"I can't tell you. It's for your own protection," Adam said. 

Kenny and Jamila looked at each other with grand smiles. Jamila even let out a little squeak. They were so excited, they didn't even notice the black smoke that was coming from the oven.

"Oh, your oven is on fire," Adam said, pointing to it.

Jamila looked over and ran toward the oven. "Get the fire extinguisher!"

Kenny ran into the backroom and Adam took that as his cue to leave. He got a few steps down the hallway before the fire alarm screeched inside their apartment, echoing down the hall. Adam chuckled to himself and grabbed his phone that was magnetically attached to his belt. He typed away on his phone as he went down the grungy stairwell that blocked out the sound of the fire alarm.

Adam: I finally have proof.

Jerry: Sure you do. Just cause my sister says you're her hero, doesn't make you an actual superhero.

Adam: I have it in my hands as we speak. Do you remember the infamous Harlet Carie?

Jerry: This is getting weak. You have been telling me for the last month you capture all these villains, yet I never see your name in the paper. Just admit it. You aren't a superhero. 

Adam: You're gonna eat those words. 

Jerry: I still wish my sister married your friend instead. What was his name again? Barry? Barney? At least he didn't constantly try to convince me he was some superhero.

Adam: His name was Barkley. I'll be at your place soon enough. If you're not convinced after seeing this, you will never be.

Jerry: Ugh. Fine. I'll be here until five.

Adam: See you soon.

Adam put his phone back on his belt and pushed open the door to the street. He had a skip in his step as the rain started to fall. Nothing was going to ruin his day. It had finally come. The day he was going to prove once and for all he was the one and only, Captain Whirlwind.

***

A Hero’s Heart

Why do I deserve to live? Why was I, out of the billions of people on Earth, the one who had to live? I should be grateful for another day on Earth, but I'm not. It should have been him. It should have been my brother. 

Ever since I was a boy, he was always better than me. Faster, stronger, smarter, you name it, that was him. Despite all his advantages, he never looked down on me. He treated me like an equal, despite me being anything close. Always kind and caring to everyone he met, my brother's love knew no bounds. He was born to be a hero and that is exactly what he was.

I still remember when he got the call that he would be joining Hero's Inc. He was doing cartwheels through the house, flinging mud from his boots everywhere. Mom and Dad were ecstatic too, not even bothering to chastise him for the mess he made. They still made him clean it up, but he did it with a shit licking grin on his face. No one was more proud of him than me though. He had sacrificed so many times in school to help me out, I was glad he finally got something for himself for a change. My brother was always a happy guy, but he was practically floating when the good news came. Too bad it wasn't all good news.

I drove him down to the doctor the next day. They needed a physical from him to ensure he was up to the rigors of being a hero. It was required for anyone under eighteen. When we got there they wanted to check me too. I declined at first, but they said it was all paid for and more thorough than any hospital could provide. Hard to pass up a free check-up from the best doctors in the city.

Roger went in and came back with a clean bill of health. They even told him he possessed powers he didn't know he had. He had the ability to fly and his heart was literally indestructible. My diagnosis was far less cheerful. The doctors had a fancy term for it, but my heart was weaker than most. It was the reason I felt tired all the time and had trouble keeping up in gym class. I figured I was just out of shape. Problem was you can't live with a bum ticker forever. They gave me a few years to live, max.

It never really hit me that I was dying until after we got home and told our parents the news. Hero's Inc. offered to pay for any medical bills, but that still didn't make facing oblivion easier. My parents thought we could fight it and were getting names of the best doctors in the world. They weren't better than what Hero's Inc was offering. I knew my time was coming to a close.

Fast toward a year, my brother was a full fledged crime fighter. I would watch him on the television on nights he couldn't make it home for supper, learning about the new heroic act he did. It gave me hope that if other people can be saved from certain death, maybe there was a chance for me. One day he came home, making his usual aerial landing on the deck outside. It never got old watching my brother in his full superhero getup come home just to have dinner. 

"Hey Rodge, how did the crime fighting go today?" I asked, still sitting on the couch near the TV as he slid open the glass door.

"Those villains are gonna have to step up their game. Cause I'm only getting better," Roger said, flexing his muscles in his tan unitard. "How's my favorite bro doing?"

"Better than that guy you thrashed on the news yesterday."

"That was mostly Georgeanna. I just added a kick for good measure."

"Speaking of Georgeanna, are you two...you know?"

"Friends?"

"More than friends?" I winked at him.

Roger let a smile grow across face. "We haven't made anything official, but…"

"Doesn't need to be. I see how she looks at you during interviews."

"Who is looking at my boy?" Mom said, coming in from the kitchen. She gave Roger a hug like he had just come back from war.

"Not so tight, Mom. You'll hurt yourself," Roger said.

"So, who is this little lady?"

"Georgeanna," I said.

"Oh, that cute thing. It is about time. When are you bringing her over?" Mom asked.

"One step at a time, Mom," Roger said before his gauntlet rang. "One sec."

Roger held his finger to his ear and nodded along with whoever was talking to him. It was a quick conversation, not lasting any longer than thirty seconds.

"That was work. There is a runaway semi on the outskirts of town. Turn the channel," Roger said to me.

I switched to channel twelve and sure enough there was a helicopter camera watching a red semi truck barrel down the road. Roger turned around and went back on the deck.

"But we are about to eat," Mom said.

"Then it will be a speedrun. I'll be back before dinner."

Roger gave me his classic finger gun salute and he blasted off into the sky. Mom and I turned our attention to the TV, excited to see him live. The news anchor kept giving a play by play, but I tuned it out, waiting eagerly to see Roger. I didn't have to wait long and he came flying into view with his blue cape dragging behind him. He flew alongside the semi trailer and up to the front of the vehicle. Roger put his hands on the grill of the semi and looked like he was straining all his muscles at once. The vehicle was slowing down.

"He's doing it!" I yelled in excitement.

It looked like he was going to be right about making it home for dinner. That was until another semi truck came from the other side. Instead of staying in its lane, it moved into the other lane, crashing head on into the other semi. They collided with the force of two planets, separating metal from vehicles and their containers exploded into two massive fireballs. I watched in horror as my brother was at the epicenter of it all. There were no words as we both watched in silence, praying he came out unscathed. 

Georgeanna came flying in as the smoke bellowed, making a beeline to the middle of the wreckage. Her pink cape and white unitard stood out from the black smoke. She moved aside some debris and pulled out Roger...or what was left of him. His limbs were all gone, leaving a scorched torso and head. He was limp in her arms as she carried him out of the wreckage. She collapsed, crying into his body before the feed cut.

"No!" I said, throwing the remote at the TV. We both scrambled to the car and sped off toward town. Our car was not fast enough and we got a call that he had been taken to the hospital. He was still alive. Mom and I were relieved by the news, but it was not going to last.

When we got there, Georgianna was by his side, her eyes and face were red. There was a spider web of tubes and needles that stuck wherever they could into him. He looked more like an unfinished mad scientist experiment than a man, unrecognizable with all the burns and missing limbs. Metal was still embedded in his eyes and throat, begging to be pulled out. Mom broke down in tears while I stared forward at him. He was my brother. He was supposed to outlive me, not the other way around.

We kept him on life support for a week before the doctors told us the bad news. He was going to die. There was nothing they could do and he did not have any abnormal healing properties. The only reason he was still alive was because his heart was still intact. Heck, they showed us the x-rays where a piece of metal literally bent inside his body and pierced his lung because his heart deflected it. That wasn't all they told us.

"Your brother had in his advanced healthcare directive that in the event he cannot live a normal life, that his heart goes to you," Doctor Sanders said as I sat in his small office.

"What?"

"We know this is a lot to take in Mr. Canters. But we need to act fast in order for a transplant to be viable."

"I can't kill my brother!"

"For all intents and purposes, he is dead. We expect his brain to die in the next few hours."

I shot up to my feet. "I won't do it!"

"His heart is unique. If you don't take it, it will go to waste. You know your brother would want you to have his heart."

I couldn't argue that. He always told me he would give me his heart if he could. I just didn't want to take it. Unfortunately, my body didn't give me a choice in the matter. My chest felt tight and I collapsed to the floor. I could feel it beating, but it was struggling. That was all I remember before I passed out. The next moment I woke up, I had stitches along my chest and I knew the decision was made for me. My brother was dead. I cried that day until I fell asleep. He was gone and I was here. This was not how it was supposed to be.

Now today, I'm sitting in my bed writing this in the hopes I find some kind of closure. I'm not sure if I will ever find it, but my brother would want me to try. So this is me...trying. I have the heart of a real hero in my body, so I better start acting like it. Tomorrow is my first day at Hero's Inc. I'm going to make you proud Rodge. I promise.

***

A Letter to Cassie

Dear Cassie,

Today did not go well. I thought since Dad had broken out of prison again and Mom was on leave for 'accidentally' throwing a villain through the Mayor's office, that it would be nice to invite them both over for dinner. Mom wouldn't try to capture Dad and I would distract Dad with my famous spaghetti. It was a recipe for a successful dinner...or so I thought.

"Why is he here?" Mom asked. 

Dad was sitting at my little oak table, munching away on a breadstick. He didn't pay her any mind, enjoying the warm bread in his grubby fingers.

"Mom, I invited him,” I said, pouring out the excess water into the strainer.

"You do know he is supposed to be in prison right now," Mom said, taking off her purple jacket. 

"Shhh. Don't tell anyone," Dad said, reaching over for another breadstick. 

"I don't care. I just wanted us to have a nice family dinner like we used to," I said. 

Dad leaning back in his chair. "Claire is right. It has been awhile."

"That's because—" Mom said before I grabbed her by the shoulder, pulling her into my kitchen. 

"Mom, why don't you put on the food."

Mom raised her eyebrows at me but I didn't back down. She knew I wanted this to work and it wasn't going to work if she was going to keep trying to fight with Dad. I grabbed the saucepan off the burner that was loaded with some hefty meatballs. That sauce was either going on the food or her. It was up to her. 

She chose correctly and took the spaghetti over to the table. I was so excited that we were finally sitting down for a real meal for a change. Mom started dealing out the spaghetti, but couldn't resist trying to rile Dad up. 

"So Robert, what have you been up to lately?" Mom asked, knowing whatever he said was going to make him look bad in front of me. 

"You should know. You are my biggest fan," Dad said, pointing his fork at her. 

"I didn't lock you up." Mom plopped a huge helping on Dad's plate. "This time."

"I noticed. That's why I had to break out," Dad said and moved closer to Mom. "Did you know they don't even offer conjugal visits?"

Mom splashed the sauce on his pasta. "Not like you were going to get any."

"Why don't we change the subject? I just got a new job," I said, not wanting it to escalate any further. 

"That is wonderful! Where are you working now?" Dad asked.

"I am working at Hendrick Drinks. I just started as their logistics manager last week."

"Logistics. I knew you were a smart cookie." Dad was smiling ear to ear. Mom however was not as pleased. 

"Hendricks Drinks. I was hoping you would aim for something bigger," Mom said. 

"They are the fifth largest in the city. And with my help, they could be the best."

"That's my girl!" Dad said, being the only one supporting me. 

Mom didn't continue, choosing to eat her meal instead. It was odd that she wasn't proud of me. Sure, it wasn't like being a superhero, but it was a good promotion for me. I dropped it and we ate our meal in relative silence before Mom felt guilty enough to say something nice. 

"These meatballs are the best I have ever had," Mom said.

"I remember you saying that about mine once upon a time," Dad remarked with a sinister grin.

"Since when did you cook?" I asked, wondering how I never knew this. 

"Your father is a pig. He has never cooked a day in his life," Mom said and Dad laughed. 

I felt pretty ill after that. Resisting the urge not to puke on the table became a heroic task. Whatever possessed Dad to say that was beyond me.

"I don't recall those being the words you used. It was something like—"

"Please don't finish that sentence," I begged.

"Look what you did, you grossed out our daughter," Mom said.

"Sorry Claire. I forget who I am around sometimes," Dad said. 

"Yeah, a bunch of low life scum." 

"Not all of them."

"All of them."

"Would you say that about me?"

"Without hesitation."

Dad stood up from the table and Mom matched him. They both stared at each other like two gunslingers ready for a duel. If I didn't do something, all my work was going to be for nothing. 

"Please, Dad. She didn't mean that," I said.

Mom didn't break eye contact with Dad. "Yes, I did."

"You really think that lowly of me?" Dad asked. 

"Lower."

"Tell me how you really feel," Dad said, raising his voice. "Come on!"

"You might as well pulled the trigger that night."

"I tried to stop him."

"You just called the police. You could have done something."

"I am doing something now!"

"Killing murders doesn't make up for that."

"And what does? Throwing them in jail. If I'm any indication, that doesn't work. You need to put them in the ground."

"Maybe I should?" Mom questioned to herself. 

"Come on then. Try it on for size!" Dad egging her on. 

The next second I know, Mom tackled Dad out of the window. They pummeled each other in my front yard until they were both blue in the face and collapsed next to each other. The police came and it was a whole scene. They took Dad back to jail and Mom left without even offering to clean up. I just wanted one day where our family was all back together, but ever since we lost you that hasn't been the case. We have all been coping in our own way, but it feels like when you died, so did Mom and Dad. I guess what I'm saying is...I miss our parents. I miss you. Please watch over them and if you have any pull up there with the big man himself, let him know I could use some help. I don't want to lose them too.

Until we meet again.

Your Loving Sister,

Claire

***

Ethical Dilemma

It had been three years to the day that I had become a therapist. I didn't have a specific clientele I wanted to work with, unlike the rest of my graduating class. Where they wanted to work with couples or substance abuse victims, I wanted to be open to anyone who walked through my door. Little did I know the slogan, "No judgement, I'm here to help," actually brought only one type of clientele. Villains. 

My first client was Henry Shekler, who went by the moniker, Shredder. At first, all I could picture was the villain from the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles show I used to watch as a kid. That image changed drastically over the course of a month. The more I learned about him, the less innocent he became.

He would go into extreme detail of the people he would kill down by the docks. Shredder was an appropriate name, given that his victims would be shredded into strips of meat that rivaled bacon. He even showed me pictures from his wallet. You would have sworn they were his children, the way he lit up showing off his kills. The worst part was, I didn't entirely believe him at first.

Henry worked a day job at a Halloween supply store, so I figured he was simply mixing up reality with his delusions. The pictures all were stylized, making the blood or graphic details less realistic looking. It all looked out of a movie, which he even admitted he was working on as a second job. Eventually, I felt the need to call him out on his delusions. He didn't take it well and stormed out of my office.

I thought I wasn't going to see him again, but like a lot of things, I was proven wrong. He came back the next day, interrupting my lunch to drop a literal head on my couch. I didn't need any more convincing that he was telling the truth at that point. Staring back at me was my ex-boyfriend's severed head in a sealed plastic bag. As you can expect, I freaked out.

"What the hell!" I said, falling back in my chair.

"You didn't believe me. Now do you?"

I brushed my half eaten sandwich off me and stood up to stare at the head he brought me. Bad memories rushed back to me. All the fighting. The abuse. The scars. I touched my side out of reflex, feeling the phantom pain I thought was long gone.

"What—why?"

"He was your ex, right? What better way to show my thanks than to kill that son of a bitch for you?"

"I never mentioned Kel to you."

"I know. Your parents did."

"You spoke to my parents?" I said, shocked once again by his actions.

"Of course. You would never tell me anything about you in our sessions, so I asked them. They are delightful by the way."

"I can't believe you talked to them. That is completely—"

"Insane?" he asked, shying away from me.

"Inappropriate."

"Whew, I was worried I went too far," he said, relaxing from my answer.

I pointed to Kel's severed head. "What do you think that is?"

"Justice."

"When did you believe in justice?"

"When I heard what he did to you."

I looked back at Kel's head and shuttered. The severed head or Henry's newfound knowledge did not bother me. It was reliving the horror I thought was gone when I saw Kel's face again. I had half a mind to do what Henry actually did to Kel. He certainly deserved it, but I didn't have it in me to commit such an act. 

Henry put his hand on my shoulder and it woke me up from my trance. I turned to face him, my eyes wandering to his bright blue eyes. My heart fluttered. I couldn't explain it, but at that moment, I was overwhelmed with a wave of emotions. Fear, anger, relief, and finally...desire. I broke all my ethics as a therapist that day and threw caution to the wind. He had done something no one would be willing to do, just to see me happy. If that isn't love, I don't know what is. 

Our lips collided and a jolt went through my whole body. His lips had a metallic taste, but it only made me want him more. I won't get into too much detail, but we definitely defiled my couch and made sure Kel was watching. It was the closest I would get to revenge, so I made it count.

After that day, he was no longer a client anymore. We dated for a few weeks, but I had made up my mind. He was my one and only. I didn't care if I lost my license, he made me happy and that was all there was to it. He was worried at first that his villain status would cause problems, but I reassured him I was devoted to him. My only request was that he not bring his work home, which he was happy to oblige. 

Our honeymoon phase lasted longer than normal, a whole two years to be exact. He was an attentive husband and I was willing to look past his killer nature to see the real man inside. We were living our best lives. I never got found out by the board and Henry even got me more clients. His work was solid and kept a smile on his face. Not sure if that meant more or less killing, but he was happy and that was all that mattered. 

It was all going great until today. I had a new client scheduled and he had quite the reputation.

"Jaster, please come in," I said to the man dressed in a slimming dark suit.

"Mrs. Shekler, I am glad you took the time to schedule me."

"It was no trouble. Are you another one of Henry's colleagues?"

"No, but he is the reason I am here."

"Excuse me?"

"That little monster of yours decided it would be a good idea to turn one of my minions into minced meat. I don't take kindly to my minions being killed, nor do I care for his sadistic methods."

"I'm sure there must be some misunderstanding."

"There isn't. This is more of a curiosity call at this point. The police are already at your house to arrest him. They will be here soon for you too...if our conversation doesn't go well."

I got up from my seat. "What do you want?"

"I want the list of your clients and dossiers made up for each one. Leave no details out."

"I can't do that."

"We both know you waved goodbye to ethics a long time ago, so don't try it."

"...I won't do it unless Henry goes free."

"That is out of my hands. You still have a chance to save yourself. Or else I can just take your records later?"

"My best insights are in my head, not written down anywhere. If you want real insight on these villains, you need me."

"How about this, I will arrange conjugal visits between you two."

I marched up to him and poked him in the chest. "No. He walks!"

"Fine. I'll have him killed in prison and the police will be here soon for you," Jaster said and turned to walk away. 

"No! Wait!" I screamed and fell to the floor. "Please...don't kill him."

"You have two weeks to complete them. If you get it done in one, I will get you those visits," Jaster said and left my office. 

I ran to my phone and called Henry, praying he hadn't been taken in yet. He answered long enough for me to hear the gunshots on the other end...

This recording is my living testimony in the event I am killed. Jaster deserves to pay for what he did and I hope this will be enough. I am Gabby Shekler and this is my story. I love you Henry. I'm coming for you.

***

Anger Management

Six pairs of eyes darted back and forth from one another. They all were sitting in fold out chairs that groaned every time someone shifted their weight. The hum of the air conditioner in the window was the only sound, until Paul looked up from his phone.

"Alright, sorry about that. Had some family business to attend to." Paul put his phone in his pocket. "My name is Paul and I would like to welcome you to our first session of Villain Anger Management."

All six villains focused on him, upset that he interrupted their silent game of sizing each other up. First to speak was a small, young woman with woodland creatures crawling through her vibrant green hair. 

"Paul, you sure have some balls," the woman said.

Paul looked down at his crotch, smiled, and returned his focus to her. "Very observant. Good to know you have two eyes."

The other villains laughed, not expecting such a cutting quip from a therapist. The woman stood up and kicked her chair behind her. Squirrels poked their heads out of her hair and growled at Paul. 

"Minions, attack!" she yelled.

Paul sprung off his chair before the squirrels left her hair. Closing the gap inside the circle of villains, he plucked a squirrel from her hair and slammed the little critter's face first into her mouth. The squirrel's tail moved like a windshield wiper, obscuring the woman's vision. She fell back onto the floor, trying to take out the giant hoagie of a squirrel in her mouth. The other villains erupted into laughter, while the other squirrels snickered among each other inside her hair.

The woman pulled the wet squirrel out of her mouth. "Argghh! You are going to pay for that!"

She wasn't talking to Paul, she was talking to the squirrel. Her grip tightened around the squirrel, which struggled in her grip. The squirrel's eyes started to poke out of its skull before Paul intervened. Paul grabbed her by the wrist. With one squeeze, her bones cracked and the squirrel was free from her wrath. His other hand went around her neck, lifting her high in the air.

"What's your name?" Paul said.

She gasped for air and her feet kicked in the air. "Elee."

"Well Elee, consider this your first lesson. Don't blame your minions for your failures," he said, slamming her to the floor.

Elee blinked her eyes a few times, trying to bring the world back in focus. When it did, she saw Paul with her minion perched on his shoulder. This made her blood boil. 

"Traitor!"

"No, Elee. You are the traitor," Paul said. 

"I am not!"

"You hurt your own minion, even willing to kill this furry little guy." Paul scratched the squirrel’s head. "And for what? Failing to accomplish a task?"

"Yes!"

Paul shook his head. "Failure is not the same as betrayal. Would you consider yourself a traitor whenever you failed a task?"

Elee's rage left her body faster than it arrived. Her breathing slowed and fell silent, letting his words take hold in her mind. 

"I don't know who or what hurt you in your past, but you can't go around lashing out on your family," Paul said.

"My family?"

"Yes. Minions are your family. Who else would join forces with you to accomplish your diabolical aspirations? Jaster?"

Elee scoffed at his comment. "Jaster can't be trusted. He's a city slicker."

"Good. You know who you don't trust. But you also need to recognize who you can."

Elee turned her attention to the squirrel who was happily rubbing against Paul's neck. Tears started to well in her eyes, realizing her most trusted companions she was taking for granted. The squirrel jumped off Paul and scurried down to Elee's face, licking the tear from her eye.

She laughed. "Stop it, Kenny."

Paul released his grip from her neck and helped her up. He went over to her chair and folded it up. "I think that is enough for our first session. The takeaway is obvious, but it's worth repeating. These minions you are killing are your family. Treat them with respect, because at the end of the day, they are the only ones you can truly trust."

The villains didn't say anything, but their faces showed his words and actions got to them. They all started to make their way out and Paul began stacking the folding chairs when his phone rang.

"This is Paul," he answered. 

"You seemed to make a good first impression," a voice said.

"So you are watching my sessions? Thought you would be too busy?"

"I'm retired. I have plenty of time."

"Sure you do. If you have so much time, why didn't you stop in?" Paul asked, walking over to the window.

"But then you would have never gotten that breakthrough with squirrel girl."

"Her name's Elee."

"Do you think she is recruitable?"

"Not for you. At least not directly."

"That's never been a problem before."

"Why the sudden interest? Finally looking to settle down?" Paul said with a toothy grin.

"No, but her control over those squirrels could be useful to me."

"Always working. When are you going to stop by to visit? My wife has been dying to try a new recipe. And the kids love seeing their favorite uncle."

"...I will let you know. Keep up the good work, but don't get carried away. Don't want you turning them into heroes."

"Would that really be so bad?"

"Have a good night, Paul."

"You too, Jas."

***

Price Check

Super-Mart was the dream job of a lifetime, at least for me. Ever since I was a little kid, I always wanted to be a superhero. Catch bad guys, save people from harm, get the girl. Sadly, life had different plans for me. When I was thirteen years old, I was diagnosed with Marfan Syndrome. Competitive sports were out of the question and with it my dreams of being a hero. I didn't let that keep me down though, so when an opening showed up the next summer at Super-Mart, I jumped at the opportunity.

I had been to Super-Mart before to pick up groceries for my parents, so I knew the layout pretty well. The front entrance was like any other grocery store. Cash registers toward the front with several aisles of food. The difference at Super-Mart was when the aisle ended there was a large open area that acted as a buffer from the food section. The other section had less aisles and larger walkways between them. I never went down there before as a kid, figuring it was just tools. How wrong I was.

Sure, there were tools. Tools of the trade and not of a carpenter or a do-it-yourselfer, but of heroes and villains. Blades, grappling hooks, net launchers, gators. You name it, they had it. My first day, all I did was roam those aisles, admiring the impressive selection we offered. The appeal did wear off faster than I thought it would, but my attention then changed to the people who shopped there. 

People dressed in capes became a regular thing as well as rougher looking people who gravitated toward wearing black and darker black. My trainer mentioned that villains shopped here, but for some reason I found that hard to fathom. None of the heroes who shopped here I recognized, which made me think maybe cosplay was just super popular here. That was until I was called for my first price check.

"Jason, you are needed in aisle 3H. Price check on lasers," my radio said from my belt. 

I unclipped my radio and spoke into it. "I'm on it."

I walked over as calm as I could, not wanting to sweat in my clean red shirt. It was my first opportunity at helping someone in person and I didn't want to screw it up. Turning the corner of the aisle, I saw a man dressed in an immaculate business suit with his hands behind his back. He was reading one of the labels. A few feet beyond him was a woman in a blue cape writhing on the floor, holding her face. My stride got slower, approaching the man with caution.

"Ah, you there. Can you help me with something?" the man in the suit asked me.

His voice was calm and weirdly soothing, yet the little voice in my head screamed at me to leave at once. If not for the hero writhing in pain, the fact that this man caused her misery without even messing up his suit was enough for alarm. It was clear he was a villain, but I had a job to do.

"How can I help you?" I asked, walking up to him. My eyes kept glancing beyond him, trying to see if the caped woman was alright. 

"I was hoping you could price match these lasers you have with the ones I found online," he said, showing me his phone.

I looked at the screen and laughed. Dumb move, but I couldn't help it. It was a simple ten dollar pen laser pointer. The lasers on the shelf next to him could melt skin like butter. I collected myself and tried to break it to him gently. 

"I'm sorry sir, those aren't the same as these."

"How so?"

"The lasers may both look the same, but this laser can cut through bone," I said taking one off the shelf. "That one on your screen can blind people at best."

"Then why didn't this one cut straight through this woman?" the man said casually admitting he tried to kill someone in the store. "Clearly this is the cheap one."

"Fuck you, Jaster!" the woman yelled from the floor.

The man in the suit turned to her. "Excuse me, miss. I am trying to talk with this young man."

"You could have blinded me with that!" she said, getting up from the floor.

"You attacked me first. And if I remember right, this place has a no fighting policy," Jaster said, grabbing the laser from my hand.

"Why I oughta—" the woman said, before getting blasted in the eyes again with the purple beam. She screamed and covered her eyes, tumbling into the shelf. 

Jaster turned back to me. I was frozen both in fear and amazement. A laser that should have bored her eyes out, only caused her great suffering. Her strength was remarkable. And Jaster. Thee Jaster was standing in front of me. Easily the most notorious villain that ever lived. I have heard stories, but seeing him in person was surreal, even if he was retired.

"I'm sorry about that. So, like I was saying, clearly this laser isn't as advertised. I was hoping for a price match," Jaster said.

I stared in awe of him for a few more moments before I finally spoke. "Um, I'm sorry. I could get fired for matching that price."

"Then how about you match it and come work for me. I could use a tall young man like you."

"What? You want me to work for you? I thought you were retired?"

"Retired, not dead. Still got to keep busy and I need good workers."

"This is just a summer job. I'm still in school."

"Not a problem. Ring these up for me," he said, tossing me the pen laser. "I'll take the entire stock."

"Don't you do it. I'll have you arrested," the woman said, clinging onto the shelf. Her bloodshot eyes locked onto me, demanding my compliance.

"Don't listen to her, Jason. I always take care of my own," Jaster said to me before turning to her. "As for you, we are going to have a little chat about threatening my henchmen."

Jaster grabbed her by the throat and walked away with her. Her feet kicked the floor and she pounded on his arm, but he did not flinch. They were both relatively the same size, yet no matter what the woman did, his grip was unrelenting. He turned the corner with her and the last sound I heard, besides the squealing of her boots on the clean floor, was the sliding door open and close out of sight.

Panic and excitement started to set in. Was I really working for Jaster? I didn't even remember saying yes nor did I tell him my name. I looked down at my shirt. I was not wearing a name tag. Instead of wasting my time wondering how he knew my name, I did the one thing that would help me. Running off to grab a cart to fit all the lasers in. Super-Mart may have been my dream job, but working for Jaster was something I couldn't say no to. Even if I wanted to.

***

Being a ‘Villain’ is Hard

The howling of the wind roared from the entrance until the door slammed itself shut. Sakari kicked off her boots and hung her wet bomber jacket on the gold coat hanger next to her.

"Lanney? Are you home?"

Silence reigned, minus the low hum of the refrigerator in the next room. Sakari shook out her brown hair like a dog, unconcerned about getting water everywhere. She ran her fingers over the one sleek streak of hair that was dyed red. It was always smooth to the touch and seemed to never dry out, much to her relief. 

Sakari walked down the clean wood floor to the second room on her left. It was a small library and her favorite room in the house. Two of the three walls were filled with books from top to bottom. The third wall was blocked by a grey loveseat and matching lamp. Sakari could still see the vague imprints of where they would both sit for a quiet night reading together. She lingered for a moment by the loveseat before making a beeline to the bookshelf.

She pulled on the top of a green hardcover book that said, 'Shadow's Cave.' Taking one distinct step back, she stood like a diver ready to take the plunge. And plunge she did. The floor opened up beneath her and she was swallowed by darkness. It lasted a few seconds before she landed on a material with the consistency of warm dough. Her legs sunk into it, preventing any serious injury from the fall. She pulled herself out with ease, grabbing on to a silver railing to her right in the darkness.

Once she was out and over the railing, the fluorescent lights from above turned on. Their hum was louder than the refrigerator, but at least it provided light. The cement floor was littered with loose paper and a knife was hurdling in the air toward her. Sakari dropped to the ground, rustling the paper beneath her.

"Lanney, it's me!" Sakari said.

At the end of the room, a woman in a black trenchcoat was leaning against a large workbench. Her head was down on the table, with one arm trying to shield the light from her eyes. In her free hand was another blade.

"Sakari?" Lanney asked, lowering her knife welding arm.

Sakari got up and kicked some paper away. "Who else would know about your secret lair?"

"I—I don't know. I just didn't hear you come in," Lanney said, reaching into her coat and putting on a black pair of goggles.

"Your door was unlocked. Again."

"I really need to get that lock fixed," Lanney said, turning to face Sakari. 

Sakari smirked and left out a light chuckle. The black goggles made Lanney's head look small and reminded her of a cheesy villain from a movie they both liked.

"What?"

"Nothing, Sexy," Sakari said.

"Har har," Lanney said, rocking her head left and right. "I am testing a new contact lens for better vision in the dark. Can't have light interfering with it at this stage."

"Really trying to live up to your name."

"My night vision is getting worse. Last week when I bumped into you during our 'fight', that was a pure accident. I never saw you."

Sakari put her hand on Lanney's shoulder. "To be fair, I never saw you either."

"Yeah, but that's what concerns me. What if I needed to do something dangerous in the dark? I could have hurt an innocent person, or worse, you?"

"That's why we coordinate this. So no one gets hurt."

"But you don't realize the prep that goes into this. You have it easy. You show up when I tell you and be the hero. I plan the logistics. How many people will be there to witness it, where and when to spring my traps, and even what others see is all up to me," Lanney said, removing Sakari's hand. "I spent hours after our fight hacking into the camera system to make sure no one saw that I stumbled into you."

"Why? Villains can make mistakes."

"Not Dark Shadow. Not under the cover of my own nightshade. At best it would make me look incompetent and at worse people would know it is all a ruse."

"If there really is that much to it, is there anything I can help with then?"

Lanney smiled. "You can start with helping me clean up this floor."

"What did you do here?" Sakari said with the paper crunching under her feet as she moved.

"This is the paperwork. Being a villain has lots of expenditures."

Sakari picked up an invoice for a home gym installation. "Five thousand dollars for a home gym?"

"It takes a lot to maintain this," Lanney said, gesturing to herself.

"I've never seen this gym."

"You haven't seen a lot of my place. It's bigger than you think."

Sakari bent down picking up more paper. "What's next, you're going to tell me you have a pool for sharks?"

Lanney was silent, searching through the scattered papers for a specific one.

"You aren't serious? Really?" Sakari said.

"I don't know what you are talking about," Lanney said, before she lunged at a specific crumpled piece of paper. 

Sakari grabbed it at the same time and they wrestled for control of it before the paper tore into. Lanney got the half she didn't want.

"Shark pool. It's even called that," Sakari said, pointing to the torn paper.

"A proper villain has at least one. Or a gator moat. I'm still waiting on the sharks though."

"We are going to have to have a talk about your spending hab—"

Sakari's comment was cut short by the sound of the trap door opening. Paper parted the floor as Lanney and Sakari rushed to and leaned over the railing, looking up to see what triggered the trap door. Above them was a man kicking his legs while he hung on for dear life.

"Stay where you are. I'm coming up," Sakari said, climbing up on the railing. 

The man grunted and lifted himself up. He looked down at the women for a brief moment before he ran off. Sakari sprung off the railing and up through the opening, doing a front flip into the library. To her surprise, the man was still in the room with a hardcover book in his hand. The smack of the book against her face paled in comparison to the snap from her nose.

She fell back and down into the trap door. Going in at an angle, she braced herself for hitting something hard. Instead her body was jerked in mid-air and she felt the cold of Lanney's coat before landing safely in the dough like substance. They both laid in the strange dough-like vat, blood leaking from Sakari's nose.

"Are you okay?" Lanney asked, holding Sakari in her arms.

"I think so," Sakari's voice came out nasally and snorted some blood out of her nose.

"Is that blood? What happened up there?"

"Whoever was up there wanted me to read your favorite book. I think I need to show him how to open it next time," Sakari said with a chuckle. 

"He hit you with a book?"

"Hardford's Revenge. My blood probably makes it look more sinister now." 

"That's not funny," Lanney said, hitting her. 

"Sorry," Sakari said, but her smile said otherwise. 

They didn't say anything for a few moments, watching the trap door slowly close above them. Lanney wiped some of the blood from Sakari's face. "Do you think he recognized you?"

"I don't know. Do you think that will be a problem?" Sakari asked, turning her head toward Lanney the best she could. 

"My house isn't that big of a secret. And if certain people knew you were here—"

"Say no more. I'll track him down."

"Just be careful. I don't want you to get hurt."

"Relax. You act like I'm going to run into Jaster or something," Sakari said, trying to get up but Lanney arms locked her in place. "Lanney, the bad guy is getting away."

"You can give him a few minutes. Make him think he got away."

Sakari relaxed in Lanney's arms and sighed. "I guess a few minutes won't hurt."

***

Consequences of Begging

"Please don't kill me. I slept with your wife!" Kahleed cried in desperation.

Anchor Face lowered his pistol, taken aback by such a strange claim. Especially for being what would have been his last words.

"Come again?"

"I slept with your wife. Don't kill me!"

Anchor Face shook his anvil shaped head. "Wait. You think I would spare you for sleeping with my wife?"

Kahleed nodded. Tears ran down his bloody cheeks onto the asphalt under him while he watched Anchor Face scratch the flat top of his head.

"What is wrong with you? I would have shot you by now if that were true," Anchor Face said.

"But I did."

"No, you didn't."

"I can assure you I did."

"Well, I'm telling you, you didn't," Anchor Face said, putting his hands on his hip. 

"Call her up."

"I can't do that."

"Why? Because you don't want to hear the truth?"

"Because I don't have a wife, dipshit."

Kahleed's eyes got big, realizing that not only was he telling the truth, but the woman he slept with was another villain's wife.

"Oh god...I didn't…"

"Whose wife did you sleep with? Now I'm genuinely curious," Anchor Face said with a smirk.

Kahleed inched forward and grabbed onto Anchor Face's jeans, tugging on him like a child. "Please kill me!"

"What?"

"Please kill me!" Kahleed said, reaching for the pistol.

Anchor Face lifted the pistol above his own head so Kahleed couldn't get to it. Kahleed clawed at him, but was swiftly kicked back onto the ground. Anchor Face stood above him laughing at the newfound desperation Kahleed had. 

"First, you want me to spare you, now you want me to kill you. You are a strange one, you know that?"

"Kill me. Before he finds outs!" Kahleed begged.

"Who is he?"

"Please!"

"You tell me who and I'll kill you. Fair?"

"It was Pharaoh's wife."

Anchor Face laughed. "Which one?"

"Talib."

"Ah, you like them on the curvy side I see."

"I told you, now please. Do it!"

Anchor Face holstered his weapon and took out his phone. He pointed the phone camera at Kahleed and snapped a picture. The flash of light caused Kahleed to blink. 

"What are you doing? We had a deal!" Kahleed said. 

"I will let Pharaoh decide your fate."

"No! Don't!" Kahleed yelled as Anchor Face's phone chimed.

"Well look at that. He is a really fast texter. He says he wants to meet the man who defiled his—" Anchor Face said, before snorting.

"What's so funny?"

"That wasn't his wife. That was his daughter. I'll say that one surprised me too."

"I beg of you. Don't take me back there. My fate will be worse than death."

"Don't worry I would never actually take you back there."

Kahleed sighed. "Thank you."

"He is coming here to pick you up. Personally."

Kahleed sprung up from his knees, lunging at Anchor Face. This was his last opportunity if he was going to avoid the torture Pharaoh had in store for him. Unfortunately, Anchor Face was faster, slamming his head into Kahleed's. Kahleed learned firsthand how he got that moniker, even though Anvil Face would have been a more accurate name given the shape of his head. Kahleed's head was spinning as he laid on the asphalt face first. 

Kahleed's vision was blurred and a white limousine came screeching around the corner. He had no more fight left in him, but it didn't help that Anchor Face stepped on him and struck a pose worthy of Supervillain Quarterly Magazine. The limousine stopped next to him and three men came rushing out in tactical gear, lifting him into the vehicle. 

"Best of luck, Kahleed! You're going to need it!" Anchor Face said, waving to him before the doors closed and the vehicle sped away. 

Inside the spacious, yet smokey cab, were three long white seats. Two along the sides and one at the end. The men threw him on the right side and sat down on the one across from him, with their rifles at the ready. Sitting at the end was a large man in a white and gold suit smoking a cigar.

"Please...I beg your mercy," Kahleed said weakly.

"So, you're the spineless man who lied with my daughter?" Pharaoh said.

"I—didn't know."

"If you did, you wouldn't have?"

Kahleed closed his eyes. This conversation was getting more tiring by the second. His energy was leaving him fast. A sharp pain went through his ribs, jolting him back to the conversation. 

"My men will keep beating you if you can't stay awake Kahleed."

Kahleed nodded. "Alright. What is my punishment? Just get it over with."

"To marry my daughter," Pharaoh said, puffing on his cigar.

Kahleed blinked a few times and tried to sit up in his seat. "You're not going to torture me?"

"You can thank Talib for that. If I had it my way, I would cut off everything attached to your torso. One by one until you were nothing more than the black knight in that Month Python film."

Kahleed righted himself in his seat and wore a weak smile. "So, when is the wedding?"

"One week. And now that you are joining the family. That also means the family business."

"Are you giving me a job offer?"

"Not an offer. You work for me now. Your connections with Hero's Inc. will be useful."

"I can't betray my fellow heroes."

"I'm not asking you to kill them. I need a spy. Someone to help me find safe routes to run my product. If it makes you feel better, you would be like my personal fuzzbuster. And last I checked, fuzzbusters aren't illegal."

Kahleed pondered his options. He knew what awaited him if he were to refuse. And what he was offering was generous. Talib was a special woman and the fact that she cared about him enough to spare his life confirmed his suspicions about their relationship. It was some light spying. No one would get hurt.

"I'll give you routes of safe passage, but I will not give away the heroes' exact locations."

"That is all I ask. Besides, the last thing I want is my son-in-law in the prison system." Pharaoh smirked.

The vehicle sped down the street to a bridge that left the city. They went out to the countryside where one of Pharaoh's mansions was. Static took over the earpiece of a man in a yellow jumpsuit that was perched on top of a building overlooking the bridge. His phone was on speaker laying on the ground next to him. He was prone, watching through his rifle scope as the limousine drove away.

"What is the status?" a voice said on the phone.

"Kahleed is working for Pharaoh. Kahleed is marrying Pharaoh's daughter and in exchange he will spy on Hero's Inc. Do you want me to take them out?" the man asked, flicking off the safety.

"No need. Let me know when Kahleed has his first kid. That will be a more appropriate time to leverage him. For now, monitor Pharaoh's movements for the next few months. No reason we can't both benefit from that information."

***

The limousine doors opened to a courtyard lit by tiki torches. Kahleed was carried out by the three men in tactical gear. His feet dragged, creating shallow rows in the gravel below. Rushing to him was a plumpish woman wearing a seafoam green dress with white trim. Her brown hair was tied back in a bun and wore a worried expression on her face.

"Kahleed! What happened?" Talib asked Kahleed, putting her hands on his damaged face. At the same time, Pharaoh disembarked from the limousine, drawing her ire. "What did you do to him!"

"This wasn't me sweetheart. I can promise you that," Pharaoh responded.

"Sure, it wasn't you. Just one of your lackeys!" Talib barked at him.

"Anchor Face is not one of my men. I have no control over what he does."

"Typical excuse father. Always blaming everything on Jaster."

"You don't know what you're talking about. As always."

Kahleed tried to speak, but only let out a hoarse cough. Talib ignored her father's insult, inspecting her poor man. His dark hair was frazzled and the glow from his blue eyes were weary. Her heart broke seeing him this way. 

"Don't worry Kahleed. I'm here. You're safe now," Talib said and looked over to one of the men holding him up. "Get him up to my room at once!"

Without hesitation, the men took him away into the large mansion that overlooked the courtyard like a judging god. Talib turned her attention back to her father, who was smothering his cigar with his heel. 

"He will not be staying in your room," Pharaoh stated as a matter of fact. 

"He will stay wherever I say he does."

"I will not have my daughter laying with someone who is not her husband."

"Too late. Or did you already forget he fucked me good? And not just once, might I add," Talib said, recalling a particularly steamy time.

Pharaoh's heel dug deeper into the gravel, crushing the discarded cigar into paste. His eyes burned with fury and knuckles cracked. At first he was satisfied with his arrangement, but hearing how his daughter casually described losing her virginity to Kahleed made him want to run up the stairs and finish what Anchor Face started. 

"I may not have beaten Kahleed to a pulp, but I sure as hell spared his life! He will not be sharing your bed until you're married. Do I make myself clear?"

Talib stood her ground. "What does it matter if we are getting married anyhow?"

"It matters to me. Not in my house."

"Fine. But he is staying in my bed. He is in no condition to get frisky anyways," Talib said, turning her heel in the gravel to walk away.

Pharaoh watched his daughter leave his presence. His fury had subsided, even with her last little comment. Searching his pockets, he retrieved another cigar and lit it. The smoke swirled in the air, seemingly dancing with the clouds above. 

"This is the thanks I get," he said to himself. "Maybe I'll be more popular with the grandkids."

***

Talib knocked on the door before she entered her room. "Kahleed, it's me."

Kahleed was tucked into her bed and the moon was watching over him through the window. He blinked open his eyes and flashed her a weak smile. His face stung when his cheeks rose, but it was worth it to see her smile back.

"Talib," Kahleed said.

She glided over to him, sitting down on her plain red sheets. "Kahleed, how are you feeling?"

"Better now that you are here," he said, pulling his arm out of the comfort of the sheets to touch her smooth face.

"What happened?"

"Anchor Face caught me by surprise."

Talib frowned. "No one catches you by surprise."

"You did. That night. At the party," he said, caressing her thighs.

"Your flattery isn't getting you out of this. You need to be honest with me."

"Okay fine. I thought you were married."

"Not about that. About what happened...wait. You thought I was married?"

"I thought so. All that sneaking around. Not wanting to get caught. I figured a husband was in the picture."

"And you still did it anyway?"

"I love who I love. I won't apologize for that."

Talib beamed with pride. A man who knew what he wanted and wasn't ashamed of her. He was all her's. She kissed him on the forehead and her fingers danced along his covered legs.

"Are you going to tell me what happened to you? Or do I have to extract that information another way?" Talib said with a twinkle in her eyes.

"I wish, but I'm too sore for that. I was following Anchor Face to his hideout, but he knew I was following him somehow. Apparently, I was not careful enough."

"Do you think someone tipped him off?" Talib asked, hinting at the obvious villain smoking away outside.

"No, it wasn't him. He has more to gain by me living."

"What do you mean?"

"He asked me to spy on Hero's Inc."

"You can't! They will send you to prison if you get caught."

"I have no choice. Your dad made it clear I owed him."

Talib shook her head and tears ran down her cheeks. Kahleed wiped the tears from her warm face. "It's not all bad. At least I get to marry you."

"Don't spy for him. Please." Talib begged.

"It will be fine."

"I have seen what he does to his men. He will do the same to you. Leave them when they need him the most. And I don't want to be a single mother."

Kahleed sprung to life upon her revelation, sitting up despite the pain. "You're pregnant?"

She sniffled. "I wanted to tell you sooner, but—"

Kahleed kissed her on the lips, fighting the pain that shot through his whole body. He always wanted to be a father and her news brought him joy he thought he would never experience. Her sweet lips made him forget about the pain and he took in the moment. A fiance who loved him and a child on the way. Despite the savage beating he sustained earlier, this was the best day he had in a long time. He released her from his wet grip, smiling ear to ear.

"You will be an amazing mother. I vow right now to not let you go through it alone," Kahleed said, with newfound energy.

"Oh Kahleed. Oh Kahleed!" she said looking toward the tent that was pitched in her bed.

"What?" he said, realizing he was not in control of his own arousal.

"I didn't think you…"

"No no no. Don't get me wrong, I'm excited...but not like that," he said, lifting the covers to make sure it was actually him. 

"I'll get the doctor," she said, going to the door.

Kahleed's vision blurred again and it became difficult to keep his head still. The next thing he knew, the pillow welcomed his return and his eyes started to close. His last words before he went unconscious, "Don't tell your da…"

***

Veggies and Meat

It had been one year to the day Lenny started working at Hero's Inc. He had accomplished his dream of becoming a full time superhero, going by his alter ego, Spinach Head. Before that, he was a grocer at a vegan supermarket. Well, grocer and mascot. His face was on every advertisement the company made because his head was green. It resembled a head of lettuce more than spinach, but Lettuce Head never stuck, despite it being a better name. 

His time at that store pushed him into the limelight and his ability to make vegetables out of thin air made him valuable to the company. He wasn't a hero at the time, but that didn't stop him from gaining an arch nemesis, The Butcher. The Butcher was the opposing mascot for the butcher shop across the street. He wore a basic butcher outfit and roamed the sidewalk with a bloody knife in his hand. The cops were called constantly to that store, but all it did was bring in more business. Lenny hated it.

Eventually, Lenny got the attention of Hero's Inc. after stopping an unruly customer who demanded he be served pork. The customer even brought in his own bloody pig for good measure. Lenny sprung into action, helping his fellow coworkers when he heard a ticking sound coming from the dead pig. Acting on instinct he grabbed the pig and ran out of the store, leaving a blood trail behind him. He set it down in the middle of the parking lot and filled the pig with greens that he ripped out of the back of his head.

He ripped out so many greens in such a short time he became light headed. The pig was filled to the brim. Even a carrot was sticking out of its snout. He laughed at the sight and then the bomb inside detonated. Instead of being turned into a tossed salad, Lenny was unscathed, bathing in a shower of vegetables and pork bits. He had saved his co-workers and the store from a real mess, but The Butcher looked upon him with disgust, holding the detonator in his hand.

Needless to say, the news media gobbled it up and Lenny had the job he always wanted. He was happy to finally be a hero, but it came at a cost. Money. There was none. At least not while he was on probation for the first few months. He wasn't a well known name and starting out all heroes were paid terribly. It forced him to get a roommate, Frank. 

Frank was a burly man with a beard and filled his refrigerator with cold cuts, but Lenny did not mind. At least Frank paid his fair share. Lenny and Frank had similar work schedules. Long days and sometimes nights, yet neither of them came home at the same time. Lenny would fight his arch nemesis, The Butcher, while Frank did...well Lenny didn't know what Frank did, but that never concerned him.

It had been Lenny's one year anniversary with Hero’s Inc. and he was making breakfast after a long night of fighting his nemesis in a local market, when he caught a glimpse of the news on the TV. It showed the fight he was in and he caught a detail he missed while dodging The Butcher's blades. The Butcher cut himself. Lenny didn't think much of it at first until Frank came in. 

Frank stumbled into the apartment without acknowledging Lenny, making a beeline for the couch. That was when Lenny noticed a cloth wrapped around Frank's right hand with some blood on it. Lenny grabbed his bowl of cereal and went over to investigate. 

"Hey Frank, rough night?" Lenny asked.

Frank lowered himself onto the couch long ways. "I guess."

"What happened to your hand?" Lenny asked, crunching on his corn flakes.

"Cut myself," he said, focusing on the TV. 

"Hmmm. How did you do that?"

"Lost my focus. Some prick distracted me."

Lenny could hear the anger in Frank's voice. Lenny wanted to believe him, but after the news coverage Frank looked far too familiar. "Some prick? Care to elaborate?"

"No, I don't. Leave me alone, I'm trying to watch TV."

"Okay. Let me get you a new wrap for your hand. Don't want you bleeding on the couch," Lenny said, making his way toward Frank's room. 

"Hey where are you going?" Frank said, sitting up.

"To get a wrap. I assume you have some in your room."

"Don't go in there!"

Lenny opened his door. "Too late."

Frank sprung off the couch, but it was indeed too late. Inside Frank's room were walls of knives and several iterations of costumes for The Butcher laying on the bed. Even though Lenny had his suspicions, he couldn't believe his eyes. Frank stood next to him, leaning against the doorframe.

"I told you not to go in there," Frank said. 

"You're The Butcher...my arch nemesis," Lenny said.

Frank shrugged. 

"Why?" Lenny asked.

"Why what?"

"Why are you my roommate? Why haven't you tried to kill me in my sleep?"

"I needed a place to stay."

Lenny shook his head in disbelief. "Are you spying on me? Keep your friends close, enemies closer?"

"Nope. Just needed a roommate. After the failed bombing at that gross vegan place you worked at, I was fired."

"You were fired for failing to bomb a VegeeSmart?"

"Failing to draw customers away, but yes. After that, I needed a job and villainy was all I was good at. Doesn't pay that much, so beggers can't be choosers."

"So, you knew who I was and you still wanted to be my roommate?"

"At least you weren't a complete stranger. Figured hanging around a good person might rub off on me."

Lenny stood there, seeing Frank for who he really was. A normal guy, who happened to dress up in a butcher outfit and commit crimes. Lenny wanted to grab the phone. Dial 911 and be done with it, but his landlady's sultry voice whispered in his head. If you can't afford your rent, I can think of a few ways you can repay me.

Lenny shuttered at the thought of what his elderly landlady had in store for him if he didn't come through with the cash. "I think I can overlook this, but you will need to be paying more of the rent."

"Then you need to wait longer before coming after me so I can walk away with more than a few dollars," Frank said. 

"Fine. But no more threatening civilians."

"I have to threaten them. Part of the job."

Lenny raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms. He was not going to let Frank off so easily. 

"I promise not to rough them up. That's the best I can do," Frank offered.

Lenny thought about Frank's counter offer. It was not ideal, but getting a villain to agree to terms like that was almost impossible in this city. He wanted more, but he knew when enough was enough. 

"Deal."

***

When A Villain Returns

She had been waiting for this moment. Craving the day she was ready to return. It had been 15 years to the day she vowed to return to the city. To have her revenge on her arch nemesis, Hector. To the people, he was Net Man, a hero who would stop at nothing to catch evil from hurting his city. To her, he was more than that. He was the reason for her existence.

She drove through the city she did not recognize anymore. The city had moved on without her and so had the people. Her night black car with signature chrome spikes running along the top of the entire car did not instill the fear it once did. Instead of people fleeing at the sight of her sinister vehicle, people largely ignored it. Another car in the crowd. She worried for a moment. If the people forgot, did he as well?

She got to the address, 13795 Starview Street. Not sure why it was called that, since it was a dumpy apartment complex surrounded by enormous skyscrapers. There was no way to see the stars or the sky for that matter with the congestion of buildings and cranes overhead. She parked alongside the only empty spot on the curb, in front of a fire hydrant. She chuckled to herself, enjoying the simple pleasures of such low level villainy she would do as a teen.

The moment she opened the door, the smell of the sewer wafted into her vehicle. It brought her memories back to the time she ran from Hector in the sewer system. He was wearing his skintight bodysuit laced in white nets and carried a heavy net cannon that made his arms bulge. Her legs got weak just thinking about him.

"Hey lady, you can't park there!" a man called out to her on the sidewalk.

"Do you not not know who I am?" she responded by getting out of her car to face the man on the sidewalk.

The man looked her up and down. Her dark trench coat hid the black dress she wore underneath, leaving her bare legs and high heels exposed to the sidewalk.

"A hooker?" the man laughed, pleased with his insult. 

"Does Spike V mean anything to you?" she said, with a devilish grin. 

The man stared back with a blank expression. "Sounds like a porn name. And not a good one."

She clenched her jaw in frustration and lifted her hand. Two metal spikes rocketed out of the sleeve of her coat and stuck halfway into the man's shoulder. He yelled in pain and fell to the floor. She closed her fists and the spikes started to turn inside his shoulder, causing him to scream in pain.

"You're lucky I'm here for someone else. Otherwise I would make an example out of you," she said walking into the building. 

The building had no locks to the doors, so she was free to take the stairs up to the seventh floor. Apartment number 768. It smelt like depravity and alcohol while she walked down the hall. Stains of all kinds littered the walls and floor. She was starting to get second thoughts about if this really was the place. Jaster was never one to give her bad information, but this didn't seem like the place Hector would ever live. What had happened?

She got to his door and turned the handle. Unlocked. The chain was not even put up. For a hero, he sure was confident no one was going to hurt him. She made her way inside and the apartment was a disaster. Pizza boxes were littered with dirty clothes on the floor. No pictures on the walls and dust covered the bar countertop. Around the corner she heard voices from a TV show she recognized. She tried to walk around the sea of garbage, but it was no use. Her heel plunged into a pair of shorts that crunched under her feet.

"Who's there?" a grumpy voice yelled from around the corner. 

She rounded the corner and the man she once knew as Hector was unrecognizable. His once tone physique was instead a round mass of fat where a half eaten burger sat. His face was round and brown beard was full of crumbs. The chair he sat in bowed from his weight.

"Hector? Is that you?" she asked. 

Hector turned and his eyebrows lifted. "Vanessa?"

"What...what happened to you?" she said, gesturing to his mass. 

"I got fat," Hector said, slapping his belly and took a swig from his beer. "I see you didn't change after all these years."

"Thank you," Vanessa said, searching for something more to say. She knew it had been a long time, but she figured if he was still alive, he was doing something right. 

"What do I owe the pleasure?" Hector asked.

"It's been fifteen years since...well...you know."

"I didn't think you would actually come back. Or that either of us would have lasted this long," Hector wheezed.

"But I did…"

"Well I'm not going to fight you. If you want to destroy the city or whatever you were planning on doing, I'm not going to stop you."

Vanessa slumped her head. That was the whole point of being a supervillain to her. Having her arch nemesis fight her. To ground her. To be with her. 

"What? Are you disappointed? You have your chance and I'm not going to stop you. Isn't that what you wanted?"

"I never wanted that," Vanessa said softly looking down at the ground. 

"A supervillain who never wanted to accomplish her goals? Why even do it in the first place?"

"Because of you."

Hector sat up on his chair, knocking the burger onto the ground. "Because of me?"

"You were the only reason I became a supervillain. You were always busy with your work, capturing bad guys. So I figured, what better way to get your attention than to become the one you chased."

"Let me get this straight. You became a supervillain because you wanted to be with me?"

"Pursued by you. But yes."

"Then what about these last fifteen years?"

"I thought you would follow me. Being your biggest nemesis and all," she shrugged.

"I was here to protect the city. When you left, I figured I won."

"But you knew I would return, why let yourself go?"

"I didn't at first, but these villains got better and better. I was only getting slower and slower. Once I fought Jaster though, I figured it was time to hang it up."

"Jaster?"

"Yeah. He made me realize I was not that special after all."

"What did he do to you?" Vanessa said, with a sudden hint of anger creeping into her tone.

Hector shook his head. "He showed me that having a net gun did not make me special. Just another guy in spandex, pretending to save the city."

"If you are not a hero, then I am no supervillain."

"I appreciate the compliment, but I guess we were both pretending to be something we weren't then."

Vanessa sat on the armchair next to him. "Then why don't we both be something we are?"

Hector gazed into her eyes, seeing her not as the enemy he fought all those years ago, but a woman who genuinely cared about him. Even after all these years and his misplaced idea of how she felt about him, he could tell she meant more than she said. He parted her hair, which caused her to blush.

"Would you like to watch a movie with me? I rented Franklin's Revenge."

"What's it about?" Vanessa asked, batting her eyes.

"About a chef that gets revenge on his fellow cook staff after they set him up for poisoning a Dutchess or something."

"Sounds like something I could get into," Vanessa said, with a smile. 

"Alright. I will get it set up. Can you hand me my pills on the counter?"

Vanessa walked over and grabbed a bottle of pills off the dusty counter. She turned around to see him smiling at her. He may have added an absurd amount of pounds, but he was still the same man she had fallen for all those years ago. And in an instant he was taken away from her. 

Bricks from the wall shot out at him like a claymore blast followed by a giant metal ball. Before anyone could respond, he was smashed into oblivion along with half of his apartment. The wrecking ball sat where Hector once was, mocking her. She held the pills in her hand, unable to process what had transpired. There were no screams nor cries for help. Just a single tear from her eye that was sure to be the first of many. 

From above it was a different story. Inside the crane seat, a man was typing away furiously as the police sirens were echoing in the distance.

It is done. 

The words displayed on the phone with the word, Sent below it. The man opened the door and chucked his phone down to the street below. It shattered into pieces, destroying not only the evidence of foul play, but Vanessa's hope that Hector would ever get to be with her.

***

Teacher

"Is this really necessary?" Pablo asked, shaking his shackles in the back of the squad car.

"You know it is," the officer said, unwilling to take her eyes off the road. "We can't have anyone find out what you actually do."

"You know when I agreed to train your young heroes, I was hoping to actually enjoy the perks of being apart of Hero's Inc. Not still be considered a low-level villain that needed to be arrested from time to time."

"We needed to maintain your cover," she said, driving down a ramp to a bunker entrance. 

The silver door rolled up as they approached, revealing the inside of the dimly lit parking garage. She drove past the rows of parked squad cars and stopped at the end of the row with a normal door that seemed almost out of place in the solid wall. A loud beep went off inside the squad car and Pablo's shackles fell into his lap. At the same time, the squad car door opened, letting the stale air into the backseat.

"Don't have too much fun," the officer said, looking in her rear view mirror at Pablo.

"Not to worry, I never do."

Pablo exited the vehicle and stood in front of the odd door. He took a deep sigh. "Today will be better."

***

Standing in front of Pablo were five bright-eyed young heroes. Dressed in a fiery red jumpsuit reminiscent of a daredevil was Rocket. Next to her were four other boys dressed in different monocolor jumpsuits and capes. Pablo never bothered to learn their names, superhero or otherwise. Rocket was the only hero who was worth anything in the entire group. 

"Alright ladies, today we are going to be doing something a little different. Today I'm going to rob a bank and you will all be tasked with stopping me." Pablo took off his watch and tossed it to Rocket. "Give me twenty minutes head start."

A blue gloved hand shot up from the group. "I thought you said we were going to fight real villains. Get some real experience today."

Pablo walked up to him and kicked him straight in the crotch. Beyond the grunts of the young man, a distinct pop and crunch resonated from his groin. The young man toppled to the floor, with his blue cape flung over his head.

"Today, I am a villain. Twenty minutes," Pablo said and walked away.

Rocket helped the young man up while the others snickered at his pain.

"Are you okay, Billy?" Rocket asked.

"I think I'm dying. You're going to have to go on without me. Save yourself," Billy strained to say.

"Always so dramatic," one of the other guys said.

"Get up Billy, You've taken worse," another guy said, dressed in hot pink. 

"You're right. It wasn't that bad," Billy said, clambering back on his feet.

Once he stood upright, his legs gave out, even to Billy's surprise.

"Stop horsing around," Rocket said.

"I'm not," Billy said, trying to get back up to his feet. His legs refused to cooperate, lying limp on the floor. 

The other guys tried to lift him up, but Billy kept falling down.

"What did he do to you?" the hot pink guy said.

"I don't know. But I'm scared," Billy said, with a genuine tinge of fear in his tone. 

"Mackey, you get him to a nurse. The rest of us are going to stop Pablo," Rocket said.

"What about the twenty minutes?" Mackey asked, lifting Billy's arm over his shoulder.

"He gave that up when he hurt Billy," Rocket said.

***

Pablo had been waiting in line for a few minutes. The line at the Bank of Solidum was longer than he anticipated for the time of day, but he figured it would be another obstacle his trainees could work around. He trained them that saving people was a higher priority than stopping the villain, so this environment could be good to evaluate how much they put that into practice. He glanced around the high ceiling bank lobby, admiring the intricate tapestry above, until someone tapped him on the shoulder. 

"Excuse me, you are next," an old lady said. 

"I'm sorry ma'am," he said and went up to the counter. 

"How can I help you?" the bank teller asked.

"I need you to open the vault for me. I am making a withdrawal."

The bank teller snickered. "I'm sorry, sir. You want me to open the vault? What's next, you want a tour?"

"That would actually be excellent," Pablo said, punching through the bulletproof glass and grabbing the bank teller by the collar. 

He slid over the counter and people started to panic, scattering about and yelling. The bank teller fainted, leaving Pablo with a limp body that he held up with some difficulty in one hand. Flying in through the main door was Rocket followed by her fellow heroes.

"Stop right there Pablo," Rocket said, landing on the ground with fire coming from her firetruck red boots. 

Pablo looked to the clock on the wall, realizing they were early. But like all things, nothing goes according to plan.

"You think you can stop me, little girl? You and your band of misfits," Pablo said. 

"Release the man," Rocket said. 

Pablo was proud she prioritized the man in his grip first. The other recruits behind her always seemed to forget about everyone except the target.

"Catch," Pablo said, grabbing the man with both arms and tossing him toward her compatriots. 

Instead of catching him, they dodged out of the way, letting him ragdoll over the tile floor crashing into the door they came through. This pissed Pablo off more. The person he threw was not some weapon, he was a human being. For some reason those guys could not grasp that concept. Rocket was the only one, breaking off to go check on the helpless body on the floor.

"Looks like I need to teach another lesson," Pablo said, jumping back over the counter. The other guys put their dukes up, ready to take him on. That was until the young man in green got vaporized.

A single beam of red and green shot from the ceiling and an entirely neon green man landed on the floor. His eyes glowed white and his black vest made him look like an alien biker. Pablo's eyes grew big, recognizing him instantly. Grazer.

"When will people learn, green is my color, not theirs," Grazer said, holding a white pistol in his hand.

"Grazer, what are you doing here?" Pablo said. 

"A little birdy told me you were training new heroes. I wanted to stop by and see how they were coming along. And it appears, not too good," Grazer said, gesturing to the pile of ash.

"Students, run!" Pablo yelled, charging Grazer. 

Grazer took a few shots at Pablo, but Pablo was too quick, dodging each one before tackling him to the floor. He kept firing his pistol, shooting lasers across the floor. One of them hit it's mark, vaporizing another running hero. Rocket saw Pablo wrestling with Grazer and went in to help. Her rocket boots propelled her toward them and she scooped up the pistol that Pablo dislodged from Grazer's grip.

"Stop. Now!" Rocket yelled, pointing the pistol at Grazer.

Pablo punched Grazer in the back, causing paralysis from the shoulders down. Grazer tried moving his head around as if that was going to get his body to move. It did not.

"You're going to jail," Rocket said.

Grazer laughed. "Pablo, you could have had it all. Instead you decided to train heroes. You know if you kill her now and get me out of here, Jaster won't have to know about this."

Pablo looked over to Rocket who hands were shaking. He didn't know if her fear was from the proposition or hearing Jaster's name come up, but he knew where his loyalty stood.

"I will never abandon my students. You can tell Jaster the next batch of heroes will be stronger than ever," Pablo said in defiance.

"Jaster figured as much," Grazer said. "Execute."

Gunfire could be heard in the streets and cries of terror range out. Pablo knew what was happening. He kicked Rocket's feet out from under her as a bullet flew past where she was standing. That bullet still found it's mark, hitting Grazer in the head. Rocket slammed her shoulder into the floor, accidentally pulling the trigger on the pistol, hitting Pablo in the chest. Instead of vaporizing Pablo all at once, the beam went through him and started eating away at his body.

"No. No. No!" Rocket said, rushing to his side. 

Pablo laid down and tried to control his breathing. Rocket tried to cover the wound but Pablo grabbed her wrist. 

"You can't help me now. Just know, you were always my favorite," Pablo said before he disappeared into nothing more than a black pile of ash.

Rocket cried as she held the ashes in her hands. On the adjacent rooftop, the sniper stopped watching her in his scope and spoke into his radio.

"All teams, retreat. Primary target eliminated."

***

No One is Bulletproof

"What do you mean you don't want to be a superhero?" Bill said.

"I mean I don't want to be a superhero. What is so hard to understand?" Lilly said, putting on her duty belt.

"You're bulletproof. You could do so much more with those talents than patrolling this beat. Not to mention a pay increase."

"I worked my whole life to become a cop. I don't see how having a superpower changes anything."

"But it does...babe...listen," he said, setting her down on the old bed. "Everyday you go to work and file reports about stuff that has already happened. Wouldn't it be nice to be proactive for a change?"

"We are proactive. Those superheroes make our job more difficult. They take down small time players that we spent months gaining trust, so we can't go after bigger fish. How I see it, if they cared about the city, they would at least coordinate with us."

"You could be that person. Think about it. A liaison to Precinct 12."

"We already have one of those, Captain Marsh."

"Captain Marsh is worthless. There is a reason he doesn't leave his office. I've seen him at the department parties you bring me to," Bill said, pretending to chug a beer.

"But what about you?"

"What about me?"

"I won't be around as much. And let's be honest, I won't be able to patrol this beat if I become a superhero. Not like I do now."

"But I can't hog you all to myself. Not when you have such extraordinary gifts. You always said you wanted to help people. To make a difference."

"And I am in my current job. I don't need to be more than that."

Bill brushed her brown hair aside, looking deep into her dark brown eyes. "But you already are more than that. I always could see that."

Lilly smiled at Bill like when she did at their wedding. Sadly their wedding reception was rundown much like their bedroom was now. Clothes were scattered everywhere, stains on the carpet, and a constant locker room smell that never quite went away. Even their bedroom mirror had a crack in it and the pipes above their ceiling rattled when the neighbors upstairs ran any water. All this made made her fond memories grow stronger. She wanted to say yes. To become a hero and do more than her normal patrol down the same crime ridden beat. But the risk was too great.

She gave him a kiss on the cheek and sat up from the bed. "I will see you when I get back."

"And I will have spaghetti waiting," Bill said, pushing off the bed. Something crunched under his left hand. "Hey, honey. What is this?" 

Lilly's eyes got big, seeing Bill hold a folded white note in his hand. She snatched the note from his loose grip before he could contemplate opening it.

"That is classified—for a case," Lilly said, trying to think of something realistic.

"What did we say about bringing your work home with you?"

"Not to. It must have fell out of my pocket. I better go before I'm late."

Bill waved goodbye, unsure why she was so weird about the note. His concern went away quick after Scruffles dashed past Lilly and jumped on Bill. 

"Hello there Scruffles. Not going to say goodbye to mommy," Bill said, rubbing his nose against her whiskers.

Lilly was glad Bill was preoccupied with their cat and opened the note while she opened the door outside.

'You have superpowers. Good for you. Think about joining Hero's Inc. and consider your husband dead. Destroy after reading or we will test how bulletproof you are.'

Lilly's head was still firmly in the note walking down the sidewalk, unaware of a man wearing drab clothes with holes in everything coming toward her. He bumped into her and ripped the note from her hand, crushing it in his fist.

"Give that back!" Lilly ordered, loud and clear.

"When Jaster says destroy something, you do it, lady," the man said, starting the paper on fire with his yellow Bic lighter. 

The man clutched the paper in his hand the entire time while it burned up to his fist before he let go, letting what was left drift in the wind. Lilly stared at this man while the paper flew away. Her hand was on her gun, but she was frozen in fear. Not of the man who had little regard for authority, but of Jaster. He knew where she lived. How long before he came asking for her to do something for him?

***

Mr. Chen’s Decision

“Alright Mr. Chen, just sign here,” Franz said, pushing the form across his desk.

Mr. Chen sat up in his seat and leaned over to read it. He picked up the pen and was about to sign his name when he stopped.

“No one will know about this? I can’t have this getting out,” Mr. Chen said.

“Don’t worry Mr. Chen. Everyone at Hero’s Inc. has signed strict NDA agreements. That includes not disclosing personal identification information for all staff members. We all understand the risk you are taking by joining us today. Some of our members are just like you. Reformed villains who want to use their knowledge and skills for good in our wonderful city.”

Mr. Chen signed his name and handed the paper back to Franz. Franz moved it aside and shook his hand.

“Welcome aboard Mr. Chen. Say, how would you like to start right now?”

“Sure. What do you have in mind?”

Franz walked around his desk and picked up a roll of paper laying against his desk. He rolled it out on the desk so Mr. Chen could see. It was a map of the city with a few red dots on it.

“I have been monitoring suspicious transport activity at these locations. I was hoping you would have more insight on what could be going on.”

Mr. Chen pointed to one of the dots near a harbor. “These are all warehouses. Common for villains to use these for transporting chemicals, electronics, literally anything that they need to accomplish their goals. From the ones you identified, they are part of a network.”

“How can you tell?”

“Locations. Sure, they are in different districts, but they all are major hubs. If your intel is correct, you are dealing with a big player. And we probably only scratched the surface.”

“What would you recommend?”

“Track the employees. Specifically ones who leave late at night. Around midnight. They will be most likely involved with whatever scheme is going on. And check around other warehouses in-between these spots. I’m sure whoever is behind this is looking to expand to smaller warehouses to spread their shipments around.”

“Your insight is greatly appreciated, Mr. Chen. How would you like to run point on this? We really need someone with your kind of experience on this. Most of our heroes tend to get too...impatient.”

“I would be honored to actually do something good for a change. Do we have any idea who might be involved?”

“I don’t have any hard evidence, but I think Jaster has something to do with these shipments.”

Mr. Chen’s face turned white and shook his head. “I’m sorry, I can’t take this assignment. Put me on anything else.”

“But you are the only—”

“Only one who actually worked for Jaster. That is exactly why I can’t do this. I can’t betray him,” Mr. Chen interrupted.

“I understand you—”

“No! You don’t understand. I get monthly retirement checks from his company. He even attended my child’s birthday party last year. He considers me family.”

“That makes you the perfect person for this. You know how he thinks. What his next move will be.”

“I can’t do it. He would consider this an attack against not only him, but his employees. His family. He would kill my family for a betrayal like this.”

“He will never know. All you would be doing is helping me strategize.”

“I can’t take that risk. I’ll take any other task, just nothing to do with Jaster. I’m sure there are other villains I can help take down.”

Franz rolled up the map and leaned it against his desk again. He walked to the door and opened it.

“You can leave now, Mr. Chen. Please go down to the front desk and get your badge. You will be given your assignment tomorrow.”

Mr. Chen grabbed his cane and leaned against it to stand up. His cane tapped on the ground as he made his way to the door.

“Before you go, I just want you to think about this. To be a hero, it takes more than putting on a cape or having superpowers. It is about doing the right thing, even when it is scary,” Franz said.

“You know Jaster had a saying too. It was: ‘Screwing up is forgivable. Screwing me is not. If you screw me, you won’t have to wonder what Hell on Earth is like. I will show you.’ I have seen what happens when someone screws him. Hell doesn’t begin to describe it.”

***

Forbidden Friendship

The wind gusted, drying Lanney’s wet hair. Her soaked black trenchcoat with orange trim kept her light frame grounded, sinking her boots into the gravel at her feet. She looked out from the top of the building at the sunset over the city. A hawk swooped above her head and Sakari dropped in behind her, rolling onto the gravel. She wore a brown bomber jacket and was clutching a white towel in her red padded gloves.

“I found you a towel,” Sakari said.

“Thanks, Red Feather,” Lanney said, unmoved from her spot.

Sakari draped the towel over her shoulders. “You can call me Sakari, you know.”

“Sorry. I’m just so used to calling you by your hero name in public.”

“It’s not a problem. I’m sorry about throwing you in the river.”

Lanney did not say anything, continuing to look out at the vast city below them.

“The city sure looks beautiful from here. Do you come up here often?” Sakari asked, trying to fill the silence.

“Yes. It gives me hope.”

“Hope?”

“That one day I don’t have to do this anymore. Be a supervillain. Be Dark Shadow.”

“You could always join Hero’s Inc. I know I would be thrilled to have you on our team.”

Lanney gave her a grim smile. “I appreciate the thought, but I have already tried. They said no.”

“No? Why?”

“They said I am too marketable as a supervillian. Our rivalry is too iconic. Must make them a lot of money to have us two fight all the time.”

“This can’t be right. They wouldn’t do that.”

“That isn’t even the worst part. They said if I don’t keep coming up with new diabolical ideas they will send Jaster after me.”

“Jaster? But he is retired.”

Tears started welling in Lanney’s eyes. “I almost killed someone today.”

“But you didn’t. I was there to stop you.”

“But what if one day you aren’t. What if one day…”

Sakari hugged her while Lanney cried in her chest. Lanney mumbled something incoherent.

“It’s going to be okay. I will always be here for you,” Sakari said.

Lanney slowly moved her head away and sniffled a few more times before speaking.

“You mean it?” Lanney said, wiping her eyes.

“Not only do I mean it. But how about from now on we coordinate your attacks. Make it more of a show. That way no one will get hurt.”

“What if Hero’s Inc. finds out?”

“It will be our little secret.”

Lanney gave Sakari another hug. Glad that someone was actually looking out for her. Unfortunately, so was someone else. On top of another building, a man in a yellow jumpsuit wearing headphones was pointing a listening device at them, recording their conversation. The man grinned and removed his headphones.

“Jaster’s gonna want to hear this.”

***