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ej121 · 6 years ago

Text

Candle

Words: 2,225

Description: The hero has another confrontation with his villain, it doesn’t go how either of them expect it to. (Inspired by this prompt)

Trigger warning: Attempted Suicide

The day began cold and dark, waking him up with a thunderclap, a flash of lightning and a heavy feeling in the air that almost clung to him as he began his usual morning routine.

Maybe that should have been the warning the hero noticed – the first sign that today was definitely going to hurt. If he was superstitious, he might have given the storm a second thought, but even if he was, he probably would have gone out anyway.

It was his job, as the hero, to help people. Rain or shine, it was up to him to save lives and bring out the best in the people of this city, and that wasn’t something he’d give up over a thunderstorm.

Hero costumes weren’t waterproof.

Maybe some others were, but his? His definitely wasn’t. He didn’t have some giant corporation secretly backing him or supplying him with fancy technology to help him do his job. He didn’t have special abilities that allowed him to be unaffected by the cold or keep him from getting soaked to the bone, but he would always do his job, it didn’t matter to him how wet he got in the process.

If he caught a cold, so be it, if he was able to help someone, it was worth it – more than worth it.

He hadn’t counted on the villain choosing to make a move today.

Usually, it was almost as if he knew – knew that the hero wouldn’t be on his A-game in the rain and chose to let the hero get off easy on days when he would be tired or weak.

The villain had never – not even once in the two years that they’d been fighting – attacked more than once a fortnight and he always kept their battles solely focused on the hero, nobody else was ever put in the line of fire.

But today, something must have changed. Maybe the villain was having a bad day, maybe someone had hurt him, maybe it was just the day that the hero’s luck was destined to run out.

It started with the villain yelling his name. It wasn’t his usual arrogant, chipper tone, this one was broken, a yell with no levity, no energy, no soul, just agony and anger and hatred.

Their fight began with falling rain; bullets spattering into the puddled streets, the hero was weaker than usual; barely able to stay ahead, struggling to trade blow for blow as the villain cycled through his arsenal.

That was another thing that was different today. Usually the villain would unveil each weapon one at a time, catching himself up in the theatrics of it all, giving the hero more than enough time to figure out an attack strategy to avoid it.

But today the villain quickly shifted between weapons, no announcement, no evil laugh, it was like the passion had been stripped from his actions, almost as though he’d lost all will to fight fair. He yelled, swinging his sword to leave angry marks on the hero, tearing his outfit, rain cleaning the wounds before they could turn red.

Normally the villain would play around. Normally he’d let the hero miss, let the hero slip. The hero got the sense the villain liked the attention, enjoyed the game – the dance of the fight – more than he wanted to win it. But today, something was different. The villain’s attacks weren’t intended to wound, like they normally were.

These were intended to kill.

The hero must have spent too long on that thought – too long looking into his villain’s eyes, searching for what had hurt his usually energetic foe.

(The villain had introduced the new weapon to him last week with a smug grin on his face, he’d gleefully cackled about how exciting it would be, to see the hero impaled by his newly-crafted boomerang knives.

Of course, what the villain really meant was he knew the hero could, and would, be able to dodge them. The hero knew that as well as he did. The introduction was so they didn’t catch the hero off-guard, because his villain always, always, played by the rules.)

He felt warm blood running down his back, moments before the burning agony caught up to him and he fell, barely able to hold himself above the ground as the villain sneered, holding a gun.

It looked wrong.

His villain would never sneer.

His villain would never use a regular gun – he thought “such straightforward weapons” were below him.

And yet, there he was, holding what was unmistakably a boring, black gun. Nothing special about it, no special designs, no introduction, nothing, just metal.

Then he turned it on the crowd of spectators who had gathered in anticipation of the villain’s defeat, ready to watch the battle come to its usual conclusion. They were too far away to hear. They were too far away for the hero to save them.

“Well, what’s it going to be?” The villain chuckled, ready to fire the gun. “You didn’t really think I’d be stupid enough to rely on my powers alone, did you? Well, I suppose you heroes really do tend to believe everyone follows your adorable notions of fairness and justice.”

What was the villain talking about? He didn’t have powers – neither of them did! And every time they fought, the villain played by the rules even more than he did! He, not the hero, was the one who had gotten angry when they first fought and the hero saw him as enough of a threat to feel the need to fight dirty!

“You, you monster!” The hero spoke through grit teeth.

What are you doing? It went unsaid, but hung in the silence between them as the hero let out a despairing laugh. It was so broken, so pained – it was almost as if he had been told his life’s work was for nothing.

“I’ve heard that one before, yes. Now make your choice, little hero. Your life, or the lives of the innocent?”

He sounded... desperate.

The hero gritted his teeth, getting up to his feet. “I won’t let you hurt them!” He managed, before falling into a cough.

The villain laughed dryly, mocking the hero’s tone, “’I won’t let you hurt them!’ Hah! You can’t even keep yourself from getting hurt! You can’t save anyone! You will die tonight, hero, and your pointless legacy of lies and deceit will die with you!”

The villain wore a snarl on his face, it wasn’t like his normal smirk or grin, it was something truly evil, and the hero found himself wishing he could have the villain would normally meet for their regular battles back again.

“What happened to you?” He pleaded.

The villain laughed, but the hero wasn’t fooled. He saw the tears that were threatening to fall from the corners of his villain’s eyes. He vowed that when... no, if he got out of this, he would teach whoever hurt his villain a lesson.

“I learned something today, Hero!” The villain admitted. “I learned that they all think I’m a monster, they all think I’m a despicable, evil being! And I learned that they know who I am, or... they will, anyway.”

The villain held his head in his hands, “A reporter figured out my identity. There’s no going back for me now, Hero!” He let out a defeated chuckle as the last of the fight visibly left him.

“They’ll publish it on the eleven ‘o clock bulletin in a few minutes, and then I’ll be locked up for my crimes against this great city.” His voice was dry, a little hoarse, and biting with sarcasm. The villain hated their city – he’d told the hero many times of how the buildings were dull, of how he felt like their society was a pointless farce.

He sighed, “I thought I wanted to kill you. That’s what this was supposed to be. Our Final Battle, where I would win... or die trying, anyway.” The villain admitted.

“But... winning doesn’t feel satisfying, Hero, breaking you like this... it just hurts... I guess I never wanted to win, not really, I just wanted to spend time with you, and to make everyone else see you how I do – an amazing person, best hero this dumb city ever had!... But I always knew you’d never let me do it as me.”

The villain frowned, taking a seat, gun now resting between his hands, “I tried to keep my identity secret, I should have tried harder, but I guess it’s too late for that now.”

The hero shuddered, trying to make his way over to his villain’s side. “No, I... I can help you! I’ll find a way to help you! There is always a way!”

The villain let out a weak laugh, “Of course you want to help me. Even after I hurt you like this, you’re still trying to lighten up my life like a god damn candle.”

He sighed, “You make this city a brighter place, Hero. Your attitude, the way you work to make everyone happy... you glow and I love watching it – it’s... just about the only thing that’s kept me here.”

The villain gave the gun in his hands a contemplative look. “I was going to die, you know? That was what I was going to do the day we first met. You were a hero, I was a monster... at least, everyone I knew called me that. You stopped me, and I was furious.” He laughed, “I was furious that you interrupted me – of all the days and all the people you could have saved, why did it have to be me, you know?”

The hero didn’t miss the tears that fell from his villain’s face, lost in the rain on the ground. He was too weak to make his way over quickly enough to take the villain off-guard, the only thing he could do was plead.

“Villain, please listen to me! I know things seem bad, but they will get better... I promise you things will get better.” He tried, the repetition, reassurance for him as much as it was for his villain.

The villain frowned, meeting the hero’s eyes. His eyes were empty and his voice weak, trembling. “No, they won’t, Hero. That’s why we’re here, in a cold city that only cares about you and nothing about me, not arm in arm riding off into the sunset or whatever lame fantasy it is you’re thinking of us doing together.” He sighed sadly, hearing the sound of police sirens in the distance.

The billboards on the other end of the square flashed, 11:00am news. They both knew what that meant. It was too late.

The hero pleaded with the villain to stay, reaching for him, the villain didn’t run, or bat his hand away. Instead, he took it with a gentle smile, a strange kind of adoration on his features.

The villain sighed, “It’s time for me to go, hero... it’s been fun, though.” He gave the hero a lopsided grin that was completely detached from what he was about to do. “I’m glad I met you, you’ve made my life so, so much better over these last few months.”

A weak laugh rumbled from his throat, “I always told you I’d go out with a bang, didn’t I?”

There was a long pause.

“I don’t want to let go, hero...”

The hero wasn’t completely sure where from, but he found the strength to rise to his feet, pulling his villain into a gentle hug. “You don’t have to, Villain. I know the consequences will be bad, but... you’ve said why, and if you’re willing to face a jury, I think the sentencing might be more lenient.”

The hero smiled softly as he held his villain’s tearful gaze, “I don’t think you’re a monster, Villain, you’re just another man who got hurt.” He laughed a little, “I’ve wanted to save you for a while, actually... really save you, not just defeat you in battle or stop you. But to give you something to wake up for, something to enjoy.”

There wasn’t much after that, the rain still falling around them on all sides, as the hero held the sobbing villain in his arms, his villain tearfully thanking him, the gun having long-since clattered to the floor.

The police cars arrived a few minutes later, and once the villain was in-cuffs, arrested, most of the city was prepared for things to finally go back to normal.

For two of its inhabitants, however, their lives were changed forever.

It had been a few days since that day, and the villain, having followed his wonderful hero’s advice and confessed promptly, had been given a reduced sentence. The sentence was still thirty years... which had hurt... but this villain was nothing if not patient!

...Yeah, I know, he thought, I’m lying. I’m the opposite of patient.

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on his cell door. “Villain, you got mail!” The prison guard called, “Nothin’ much, just candles, by the looks of things.”

As they were placed in his cell, despite himself, the villain felt a smile crossing his features and a warm, fuzzy feeling in the bottom of his heart.

This was a dark, cold cell, but even in here, his hero’s light still shined bright.

#writing prompt #superhero #villain x hero #hero x villain #candle #light #rain #different #angst with a happy ending #saved #tw: attempted suicide #enemies to lovers #this is gay #sfw

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ej121 · 6 years ago

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River

I’ve admittedly not done all that much with my life so far. Sometimes I meet new people as I travel from place to place, usually I work towards what I want, but I’m content to allow life to take me from my ambition, as well.

Some people would probably call me lazy, they’d probably be right. Some might even call me foolish for letting my life take a different path to the one I want it to, but I trust the world. I trust it to put me where I’m needed, sooner or later, through one hardship or another.

Why? It’s a long story, but it begins with a story I heard a while back...

The land in which the tale is set used to be the centre of martial arts for that area of the world. The warriors of that land were ninjas, having undergone years and years of training, they were all experts in their fields.

However, this story doesn’t focus on the expert ninjas. Instead, it focuses on a student, and his teacher; the wise noble master.

The test the master gave this student in order for him to become a ninja was a particularly brutal one. He led the student to the temple at the top of the settlement.

At the back of the temple, a waterfall cascaded to the ground before running through the rest of the building.

They’d used this waterfall before. It provided calming sounds making meditation easier, but it had also been used as a distraction – the sensation of water running over the student’s skin was something he’d had to tune out in order to find peace.

This time, however, the master did not tell his student to meditate. Instead, he pointed at the waterfall.

“I have taught you how to fight. This will be your opponent in this final test. You are to defeat it.”

The student probably looked at his master with confusion, or if he didn’t, he probably still felt it – perhaps he hid it because to show confusion would be to doubt his master.

The student began attacking the river, as his master had instructed. The water simply flowed around his fists, passing over them before continuing on its way.

But even though he could see attacks having no effect on the river, he kept going – his master had given him tasks which seemed insurmountable before as trials of persistence. Perhaps this was the same.

The student fought hard. He fought for days on end without stopping or letting up. Only when his arms and body had given in to fatigue – when he simply could not fight the water any longer, did he give in.

“Master!” He pleaded, “I cannot fight the waterfall. It flows around my attacks! Give me another opponent, please!”

The old master simply laughed, “Of course you can’t fight the waterfall. No force of nature can be beaten into submission.”

The student was, understandably, confused. If his teacher already knew he couldn’t beat the river, why had he tasked the student to defeat it?

The master rose to his feet, slowly making his way over to the waterfall, taking his position beside it. “You cannot beat nature into submission. Fight against the river, and no matter how strong you are, you will only tire yourself out.”

He smiled, “I set you this task because Life is also a river, and that is something you must either learn, or be defeated.”

“Respect this river you are in. Channel it; allow it to become one with you through meditation. You must understand that it, not I, is your true master. Even I cannot control the river.”

“The more in touch with the river around you you become, the stronger you will be as a warrior.”

That tale is why I trust my life – My River – to guide me to what I need – not what I want.

I trust it to be my master, and, like all good masters, to teach me how to be better and stronger over time.

I’m grateful for all the opportunities and people the current has placed in my path. Those things, and the knowledge that more of them will lie further downstream, are what keep me going when things get turbulent.

Sometimes I wonder if other people see it this way, so I suppose I’ll ask you, seem as you went to the trouble of reading all of this. You don’t have to answer, of course, but I am curious.

How do you see your life?

#writing #writers on tumblr #spilled ink #spilled thoughts #writing on tumblr #river #life #meditation #ninja #test #fate #trust #god #power #strength #pwemr #(hit a bit of a writing slump after new year.)#(back now though.)

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