#anyways. im gonna do something more fun that doesnt involve people berating me over the phone instead. not sure what yet

[raineandsky]

#95

The villain appears around the corner at a run, their hair still wet and their coat ridiculously crumpled. The hero raises an eyebrow at them as they practically skid to a halt in front of them.

“Sorry I’m late,” they say between ragged breaths.

“You’re fifteen minutes late,” the hero points out with a pointed check of their watch, “to your own crime.”

“To my crime?” the villain echoes indignantly. “Why would you invite me to my own crime?”

That barely makes sense to the hero. They root through their pocket and shove a tiny piece of paper in the villain’s face.

The villain’s eyes scan over the paper with an increasingly confused frown. “You told me to meet you here, and I have—even though you were, y’know, fifteen minutes late.”

“[Hero],” the villain says slowly. “This isn’t my writing.”

All accusations lining up in the hero’s mind grind to a halt. “Excuse me?”

“This– This isn’t my writing,” they repeat a little more intensely. They rummage through their coat for a moment, slapping a scrap of paper against the hero’s chest. “Did you write that?”

The hero pries the little piece of paper open.

meet me at the back of the bank at 6:30pm. not a fight. - Hero

“I didn’t write that,” the hero says automatically.

“What the hell is going on?” the villain demands. It seems to be aimed more at the air than the hero, but they feel inclined to answer regardless.

“I don’t know,” they say uselessly. “Someone wanted to bring us together. They knew we’d answer each other.”

They gesture with the note for emphasis. “Jesus Christ,” the villain says flatly. “It’s a two-for-one deal. We’re going to die.”

“We’re not going to die, [Villain],” the hero snaps, but the way the villain is glancing over their shoulder is making them want to do the same. 

The villain’s face twitches into some kind of horrible acceptance of fate for a moment. They open their mouth, their breath misting in the evening air as they gear up to probably say something stupid, but a voice cuts them off.

“Isn’t this a nice little gathering?” the henchman says brightly. “I’m glad you both came.”