Come With Me
Part 2 Part 3 Part 4
Warnings: violence, destruction, fire, mayhem
Hero’s heart thundered in their chest. The building was on fire, the ground shaking violently, and Superhero was nowhere to be seen. How had everything gone so wrong? Where was their mentor? Had they been abandoned?
Villain’s ploy to cause massive destruction had been successful. This warehouse, a vital structure to Superhero’s operation, would be a total loss. All Hero’s work for months gone up in smoke.
Hero felt anger bubbling in their gut as they thought of Villain. Villain had been their friend. Had been Superhero’s apprentice with them. Until Villain betrayed them all and left. And had been fighting against Superhero ever since.
Hero realized that they weren’t going to be able to get out of the building. Terror gripped their heart as they realized this was the end of the line for them. And Superhero hadn’t been able to save them.
“Come with me if you want to live,” Villain’s soft voice came from behind Hero.
Hero spun around, glaring at Villain as they spoke. “Why? Don’t you want me dead?”
Villain’s dark eyes searched Hero’s face. “Is that truly what you believe of me?”
Hero started to try and call on their power. If they were going to die here, perhaps Villain should come with them. “You’re the one who left us. You’re the one who’s been fighting against us!”
Villain grabbed Hero’s hand. Their hand was surprisingly rough against Hero’s soft palm. “I’ve been fighting for you, Hero. You have to trust me.”
Hero pulled against Villain, trying to break Villain’s hold on them. “Let me go!”
Villain shook their head. “I won’t let you die here.” And they teleported Hero and themself out of the fiery inferno.
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The room is a dim basement room. It has no windows. There’s a liquor cabinet, though, and a bookshelf full of notebooks, and a table and chairs, and a candle lighting the place. The candle doesn’t let off much smoke, but it’s steadily alight, indicating that the room’s oxygen content is still acceptable. A small, blinking device next to it confirms that any other electronic device in the area is well and truly dead. There’s tape sealing the door, so that no one can see the flicker of the candle inside.
There’s a bottle of brandy on the table. The glasses suggest neither party is bothering to savor it. It’s not a brand worth savoring, anyway; for all Scott could easily afford the expensive stuff, that’s not what he feels like he should drink while he’s down here.
He’s slumped forward on the table, hair askew. The hoodie he’s wearing doesn’t fit, because it isn’t his; neither are the sweatpants. He knows for a fact his contact is laughing at him for that. Whatever. She’s one of the only people who gets to know he has enough of a personal life to steal sweats from someone else anyway. May as well take advantage of that while he can. It’s not all impeccably-designed bulletproof suits out here.
“I hear congratulations are in order,” Pearl says from across the table.
“Fuck off,” Scott says.
“...are you already drunk?”
Scott huffs. “So what if I am, huh? It’s not like I need to be alert while you’re out here in full costume.”
Pearl peels herself off the wall. She’s a relatively muscular woman wearing red and black. Her face is masked with a simple red circle. A lunar eclipse. Scott still has no idea how she sees through that thing. He’d made fun of her, back when she chose the getup for her criminal activities. Told her she looked like an evil dinnerplate or something. She’d told him in turn that he looked like a pretentious dork in his chosen costume. Judging by the whispers through the Hero Association about the two of them, though—
God. Through his Hero Association, or just about his.
“Promoted to Vice Commander, huh?”
“I’ve sold my soul,” Scott says, and he takes another deep swig of his brandy.
“You already did,” Pearl says.
“God, I hate you,” Scott says.
“It’s a good thing the feeling’s mutual,” Pearl says.
“I wish we’d never fucking met,” Scott says.
“I killed someone yesterday,” Pearl says.
Scott’s quiet.
“You can’t go telling me that,” Scott says. “That’s another thing to hide. You can’t just—Pearl.”
“I know,” Pearl says. “I know. But for all everyone’s scared of me, I normally manage to avoid—”
“Hah. We were both there when—”
“I know,” Pearl says.
Scott sighs. He pours Pearl a glass and pushes it across the table. Pearl takes off her mask. Her eyes are rimmed red, and her face is covered in splotches. She’s always been terrible at hiding she’s been crying. She’s been terrible at it since they were ten, and had both quite suddenly realized that if it had been hard to have their powers alone, it was even harder once there was evidence they weren’t both just going crazy.
He’s hated her since he was eleven, really. Took the year to realize he probably would have always seen what his powers gave him as useless nightmares, otherwise, but after that, well. The feeling’s mutual, at least. He wouldn’t have been able to stand it, if the feeling hadn’t been mutual.
(A girl who can see deaths, and a boy who can see alternate universes. They make quite the pair.)
“I probably kill more people,” mutters Scott, halfway between a consolation and a competition.
“Not with your own hands.”
“Yeah, does that make it better? I’ve sold my—you know this. You know this.”
“Yeah,” Pearl says. “Yeah, I know. Thought I should congratulate you on succeeding.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome!”
They’re both quiet for a while. Pearl takes a drink from her own glass and grimaces. “You can afford better brandy than this,” she says.
“Fuck off,” Scott says. “I can buy the cheap stuff for this.”
“Your taste is stupid,” Pearl says primly. “Next time we come down here to plan, I bring the drinks.”
“Right. Planning. Because we’re doing so much of that today.”
Pearl sighs. “Does Jimmy know you’re here?”
“Jimmy doesn’t exist, as far as you’re concerned,” Scott snaps. “I buried the man’s documents myself.”
“Eclipse will make anyone exist for the right price,” Pearl tells Scott.
“Jimmy doesn’t, or you don’t,” Scott snaps, voice low.
“Oh, now you’re sounding like a Vice Commander.” Scott gives her a two-fingered salute. Pearl shrugs. “Just saying.”
Scott considers arguing harder. Instead, something in his stomach shifts, and he pours a full glass of brandy. It’s not how you’re supposed to drink the stuff. He might have a good tolerance by now, but he fully expects to wake up with the worst hangover he’s had in years tomorrow. He deserves it.
“You uh… got enough alcohol there?” Pearl says.
“Got unclassified access to the Black Ops files when I was sworn in,” Scott says.
“Jesus,” Pearl says.
“I sold my soul,” Scott says. “I’m in charge of that now.”
“Jesus,” Pearl says again.
“And I kept thinking about the plans we had to—I can’t just dismantle that, Pearl. I can’t just—what are we doing?” Scott realizes his shoulders are shaking. “What are we doing, Pearl? The best of all possible endings? Don’t make me laugh—I can’t see this universe once we’re in it. Who are we to decide, huh? Who are we to, to try to…”
Pearl watches him for a while.
“I could have told you it would be bad,” she said.
“Do you think I didn’t know that?” Scott snaps.
“I killed someone yesterday. It’s not uncommon,” Pearl says.
“Great, so we both deserve to be executed!” Scott says, throwing his hands up. “Some of them started in the scholarship program, Pearl, they were scouted at sixteen!”
“And we were eleven,” snaps Pearl, and Scott shuts his mouth and looks away.
“Yeah, well. That’s not the Association’s fault, is it.”
The air hangs heavy. It smells like booze and candlelight and misery. Distantly, Scott wonders if Pearl was maybe right, asking if Jimmy knew where he was. The only other person on the list of people allowed to know Scott has a personal life, and he’s going to be disappointed in Scott again. Great. Scott’s lucky that, legally, the man doesn’t exist; if someone who legally existed was mad at Scott, he might just finally have to do something about it.
“You’re right,” says Pearl, finally. ”What are we doing?”
She slumps forward in her chair. She knocks back her own drink, but doesn’t pour herself another. Scott isn’t surprised. It’s not safe for both of them to be drunk. If the newly-promoted Vice Commander of the Hero Association is caught drinking with an infamous information broker, it’ll be the end of their house of cards. Scott’s powers helpfully decide to show him what happens at this juncture in that universe. Scandal, collapse, corruption—the worst part is, he thinks, is that it can’t even be all that different from this universe, only that the guy on the inside trying to change anything won’t be in power to do so. Maybe it would even be better.
Pearl ‘slits her throat’ in the night, his powers inform him. It’s not a suicide.
Scott can be selfish about that much. So can Pearl. They can’t be caught.
“I already knew most of it,” Scott says, finally. “But I’m in charge now. I sign the orders, right next to the Commander. I sign the ones his name can’t be caught on, too. I’m in.”
“Who better to lead than a man who can see the future?” Pearl says.
“You know that’s not how it works,” Scott says.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have taunted you,” Pearl says.
“Jesus. Don’t apologize. You’ll make me think you’re an imposter,” Scott says.
“Yeah, well, the plan goes forward,” Pearl responds.
“Sure. Yeah. The plan goes forward,” Scott agrees. “The plan goes forward.”
Pearl reaches her hands across the table. Scott looks at them and, after a moment, reaches his own across to grab them. They sit there, holding each other’s hands, for a while, and it’s almost like they’re ten, and every horrible future the two of them can see flash by as possibilities is the end of the world, instead of another messy quagmire of maybe-just-as-bad-as-this-one. It had seemed much clearer then, really. It had seemed much easier. Scott doesn’t know. Maybe they were just stupider as kids.
Then again, he’d hated Pearl by eleven. He couldn’t have been that stupid.
He squeezes her hand tighter.
“Do good by them?” Pearl says, and it’s quiet and pained.
“Yeah,” Scott says.
“Okay,” Pearl says. “Okay.”
Slowly, Scott lets go of Pearl’s hands. He grabs the brandy again. He pours another glass. “I’m gonna get blackout drunk now,” Scott says.
“Sure. Just for tonight. I reserve the right to be sad and drunk next time,” Pearl says.
“Great planning,” Scott says.
“Yeah, well, we’ve still got a few hours,” Pearl says.
“I hate you,” Scott says.
Pearl smiles, for some ungodly reason.
“Yeah, me too.”
They stay there until Scott’s too drunk to stand up straight, and then Pearl lifts him around her shoulders and gets him outside to a cab. In the clothes he stole from Jimmy, no one can recognize him anyway. He’d think the hair would be distinctive enough, but apparently not. He won’t be caught today.
He muddles forward into the one future he can’t quite see.
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TTD - True Evil 2/4
part1 part2 part3 part 4
*
Hero considered themself as a simple person: when there was a mystery, answers had to be found. For answers to be found, you had to ask those who were hiding something. It was clear that Villain would not talk to them, but there was one obvious solution left. Sighing, they pulled out their phone and sent a text to Superhero.
The next morning, they entered the elite training room, forcing their lips to smile. They hated this place. Superhero, under the pretext that Hero couldn’t be hurt by his laser beams, never stopped training when they were there. It was true that Hero’s powers technically protected them, but being so close to something so deadly was nothing pleasant, and if they were immune to lasers, they weren’t to wreckage.
Superhero was already in here. He was kicking a brick construction in a corner. After two or three tries, it all crumbled. Superhero shook his head.
“Too slow. Too weak,” he mumbled for himself.
Hero cleared their throat. Superhero turned his head and beamed at them.
“Ah, it’s you! I’m happy to see you.”
“You are?”
Superhero chuckled and took them by the shoulder:
“I want to apologize for the last time. I was a little too direct. A leader-”
His gaze became unfocused:
“A good leader has to give positive vibes. You have to forgive me. As you know, my week has been complicated. In a life of battles, sometimes you forget yourself.”
It was true that Superhero made the news nearly every day. He rarely rested and took down Supervillains once a week. He wasn’t at the top of the agency for nothing. Hero, who maybe had to fight five or six times since they’d begun the job, nodded:
“I understand.”
Superhero looked at them from top to toe and made a wan smile in answer.
“I wanted to ask about Villain,” said Hero.
Their boss shook his head with a slight frown, grasping their shoulder with a little more strength:
“Can’t you make an investigation by yourself? See, this is what worries me. You can’t cry for help every time you meet an obstacle. Do the work yourself. Now, forgive me, I have to train.”
“I made it, sir. To begin with, Villain is an orphan, left at birth. No one knows about their family.”
“Now, it that an excuse for villainy? You of all people should know-”
“The thing is, sir, I have a rather clear idea about Villain’s background. What I don’t know is what they have done, except for some petty robberies. Their file mentions murders, but I can’t find concrete proof anywhere.”
“Seek harder.”
“With all due respect sir, that’s what I’m doing. I’ve looked into the history, and you helped writing this… file.”
The last word was pronounced through clenched teeth. The pressure on their shoulder had just become painful. It didn’t last long, though. Superhero let them go, their gaze unfocused. Hero stepped back hastily, massaging their shoulder.
“Sir?”
“You-”
He stopped. Hero glanced at the door behind them. It wasn’t far, but they couldn’t dream of getting out without being caught. They couldn’t compete with someone with super speed. Hero pushed back that thought – come on, it was their boss – and tried to keep their professional-looking face when Superhero smiled at them again, with a grin as small and forced as theirs.
“You were right to come to me. Maybe I should have told you first. We could have avoided all of this. Let’s go in my office.”
Hero followed him to the stairs. They had never gone up there. It was usually a place reserved for important people, superheroes or at least top-ranked heroes. They always imagined a really fancy place. It was…a bit of a disappointment, to tell the truth. The corridor itself was empty and cold, without tables or chairs. Superhero’s place was a small, cramped room, with an old office that occupied most of the space and an old, closed cupboard. There was no decoration, nothing on the gray, thick walls. Two stools were the only sitting accommodations. Hero stayed up, looking at the place with confusion, while their chief went to the cupboard (not without difficulty) to pick up a little box. He pulled out of it what looked like a pair of earbuds, and put one of them on.
“Do you know what it is?”
“No, sir.”
“They are from a friend I saved once from – no matter. They allow reliving the memories of the one who wears it. It’s very useful for interrogations.”
“I don’t understand-”
“I know you don’t. Villain is a cold-blooded killer, Hero, since they were a child. And I know more than anyone since I’ve seen them do it.”
Hero recoiled. Their boss noticed and had a grim smile.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to relive that, but then, you’re right. I shouldn’t spare myself if it hides the truth.”
Then his voice dropped into a growl:
“Take it. Take it and read my mind if it takes that to convince you.”
Hero looked into the pale red eyes that stared at him.
I’m immune to lasers. I’m immune to lasers. I’m not immune if he crushes my spine if he fires me if- no. Stop it.
They put the Not-Earbuds on.
*
Next part here
Check the These Two Dorks Masterlist or Tag for more snippets with this Hero and Villain. This is how they met and now they’re roommates.
Or back to Hero x Villain Masterlist.
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