“They’re fashioning you into a weapon and you can’t even see it,” the villain remarks loftily at the hero’s turned back. The hero doesn’t even flinch and it annoys the villain more than they’d like to admit. Instead, their adversary remains staring out at the horizon. The villain rolls their eyes and comes up to stand next to them. They miss the days when their enemy would wince and scramble away from them in fear—they miss when the hero was lively. Now, they seem to be a husk of their former self.
“Oh, I am more than aware of that, trust me,” the hero eventually scoffs, crossing their arms over their chest defensively. The villain chances a sidelong glance at them, only to find that their rival is still gazing out at the horizon.
“I don't understand,” they remark, squinting at their enemy. “How can you be comfortable with that, with how they treat you?” The villain has always felt a strange sort of kinship with this particular hero—they both have similar superpowers and grew up in rather gruesome environments. The villain has long given up on wishing the hero joined them. They’re not sure what they wish for the hero, anymore. Perhaps they just want the light to return to their enemy’s eyes.
“We’re all monsters,” the hero says with a casual shrug unbefitting of the statement. The villain sucks in a sharp breath at the resignation that seems to roll off their enemy’s body. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It doesn't matter?” The villain can’t help but snap. Their fingers clutch at the railing of the building with renewed fervor. “Have you heard the whispers, the rumors? Surely you see the fear in their eyes. Do you understand-?”
“What do you suggest?” The hero interjects, finally turning to look at them and meet their eyes. The villain nearly recoils at the dark circles under the hero’s eyes, the grief written in the tight lines of their foe’s shoulders. “Should I switch sides, perhaps? You know that won’t change a damn thing. This way, I'm at least on the winning team.”
“It’s more than that-” The villain tries to say, only to be interrupted once more.
“No,” the hero laughs disbelievingly, shaking their head. “It isn’t. I think you’re the one that doesn’t understand. People like me, we don’t have the luxury of choosing when and where we’re wanted. Hell, we’re never wanted. We just go where we’re least feared—where we’ll at least be regarded with some semblance of humanity.”
“Even when that same humanity only regards you with fear and disgust?” The villain questions, despite already knowing the answer they’ll hear. The hero nods silently. This time, it’s the villain’s turn to look out at the horizon with an indiscernible expression. They can’t quite find the words to say. “That's a sad fate.”
“Of course it is,” the hero acquiesces, biting their lip. The villain isn’t sure why their chest feels so tight at the sight, why their breaths are suddenly much harder to come by. “Doesn't mean I can change it,”
“Have you ever considered... not taking a side at all?” The villain remarks. “Just because you have superpowers... doesn’t mean you’re automatically responsible for protecting or destroying the city.” Regardless of what hero agencies might tell you, the villain thinks loathingly. They themselves were nearly taken in with that kind of rhetoric, all those years ago.
“I never thought of it like that,” the hero admits.
“Of course you haven’t,” the villain sighs, hoping their voice sounds closer to irritation than the fond exasperation they’re feeling. “You’re so committed to torturing yourself, you know that?...You seem to think this is about choosing the lesser of two evils. Why choose at all?”
“Why choose at all, indeed,” the hero repeats, staring at them with an enlightened expression. The light is slowly starting to return to their eyes. There’s an easy grin on their face and it robs the breath from the villain’s chest. The hero reaches out and it takes every ounce of restraint the villain possesses not to flinch. Thankfully, the hero simply puts a hand on their shoulder. “Thanks. You’ve left me with a lot to think about.”
“Don’t hurt yourself,” the villain says with a smirk. “I know your mind might not be capable of all that free thought.” It’s incredibly amusing to see the carefree expression on the hero’s face morph into indignation.
“Shut up.” The hero rolls their eyes, their hand falling from the villain’s shoulder. The villain watches as their enemy turns around and walks away. The hero’s shoulders already look looser. The villain waits until they’re far enough away to smile to themselves.
©2023, @defectivehero @defectivevillain All Rights Reserved.
reblogs are welcome <3
endnotes below
this was a fun snippet to write. I like the idea of a villain being the one to convince the hero that life is about more than conflict. typically, I see interactions like that being the other way around, so I thought I’d flip the script.
thanks for reading, everyone!
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