Small Mercies

Small Mercies

(Context: Hero is restrained in a previous event and abandoned, Villain comes back to find them post-event)

[Warnings: blood, graphic fatal injury (of unnamed characters), helplessness/desperation]

The building was far quieter than it had been a few hours prior. The villain walked into the decimated room, scanning for the hero that they had come to collect. The floor was covered in debris, tables turned over and chairs askew with broken legs. They turned towards the center of the room, where they had gotten Hero cuffed to a vertical bar that used to hold a booth in place. Villain was moderately surprised to find they were still there, though not for lack of trying, if the ring of bruises adorning their wrist like a bracelet was any indication.

They were unmoving, head resting on the beam and cuffed hand slung slightly in the air.

Impressively, they appeared to be sleeping.

That just wouldn’t do.

Villain kicked a piece of debris and they startled, eyes shooting open and locking on the criminal. For a second, they attempted to scrabble back before a glance at the cuff hooked into a rivet hole had them going still again.

Villain waited until it appeared they had some semblance of their bearings in the waking world before they continued to approach. Hero’s eyes never left theirs, tracking their movements like a cornered animal.

Villain stopped cautiously, completely out of reach, but the hero made no move to do anything but glare.

Part of the villain had expected them to start throwing daggers the second they made themselves known. It was their specialty, after all. A quick glance to their belt revealed the answer as to why they hadn’t.

Every loop and sheathe was empty. All their blades were gone.

As if sensing the impending question in the Villain’s gaze, the hero flicked their eyes behind them and to the right. When Villain’s gaze followed, they saw several bodies strewn on the floor, each impaled by a knife or two.

There also appeared to be a rather fresh puddle of blood in front of the restrained Hero. Following the smear of it around the beam, another body laid, this one clawed and disheveled. Sticking out of its windpipe was none other than a fountain pen.

Clearly, Villain had not been the first to come back for Hero.

Upon closer inspection, the hero looked absolutely exhausted. Crusted blood covered their free hand and a small amount was sprinkled on their face and smeared—like they had tried to wipe it away. Their eyes were wary, but in a way that suggested they could do nothing to act on their caution.

Villain knelt, ignoring the biohazard on the floor and taking the metal cuff in his hand. The lock was scratched and the links were scored but they were still functional—again, obviously not for lack of trying.

“Is this thing made of titanium or something?” Hero joked weakly.

Villain shot a quick look to the hero, their posture still completely defensive, knees drawn up to their chest. They pulled out a key, inserting it into the side of the cuffs that was attached to the beam. A twist and a click later and Hero was no longer tethered to the rebar.

They didn’t pull their hand back immediately as Villain might have expected, instead leaving it limp, held up only by the grip Villain maintained on the metal. Villain reached for their other hand, pulling it from their knee and locking the open side of the cuff over Hero’s previously free wrist.

They let them, but the hatred in their gaze intensified greatly as the metal cinched closed.

Unbothered, Villain produced the key again, and Hero eyed them suspiciously as they slid it into the mechanism clamped over their mottled wrist. After freeing the injured hand, Villain rose to their feet, pulling lightly at the side of the cuff they still held.

Hero struggled to their feet, bracing themselves on the beam for a minute before allowing themselves to be led away by the wrist.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That was…not what they had expected.

They had had plenty of time to imagine what would happen when—if the villain came back. Terrible thoughts interrupted only by the terrible reality of another group closing in.

When they realized they had thrown their final blade, they knew that it was over. They may have been able to stop one person with their bare hands and some pocket junk, but Villain was different.

The adrenaline that had allowed them to lodge a writing utensil into that trachea was long gone. In its wake, it left total and utter exhaustion.

For better or for worse, Villain seemed to know that.

Hero was taken from the building, confused by the horrors that hadn’t been realized, and dreading the terrors that might yet await.

Defiance

“Surrender yourself,” his voice boomed through rapidly-emptying event courtyard, courtesy of the poor-sound tech being held hostage.

“Or I will destroy this city.”

Hero faced the final remaining civilian, gesturing towards Villain with his thumb.

“This guy can’t be serious.”

The hostage stared blankly, vaguely shaking next to the sound equipment.

“I am most definitely being serious,” the villain hissed, “Now, come with me.”

It was not a request. The command was like ice on his tongue, meant to freeze any thoughts of defiance.

Unluckily for him, Hero liked the cold.

“No, I don’t think I will,” Hero responded, following it up by spinning and landing a solid right hook with record-breaking speed.

Wrong move.

Villain saw it coming, allowing the hero’s fist to collide with his face as an opportunity to grab his arm and twist, wrenching it behind his back.

The civilian intelligently took their cue to run.

“If you don’t start listening to me, this is going to get ugly-”

Hero rammed their elbow back into the villain and ducked, slipping their arm out the hold and sweeping at Villain’s legs.

Unfortunately, Villain was built like a tree and did not wobble, leaving Hero to scurry away a few feet before rising.

“I’m sorry, did you say something?”

Hero stayed back, measuring his next move carefully.

“You know what I-”

Villain was forced to take a step back as Hero rushed forward and landed a series of successful gut punches.

“I couldn’t hear over the loudness of your ego.”

Villain stuttered as he tried to discard his affrontedness to parry the attacks. As strong and strategic as he was, he was still no match for the hero’s next combination.

The heel of his palm struck the villain’s nose in a flash while his left fist flew and found its target behind the ear. Villain now sported a bloody nose and a dazed look on his face, forgotten fists falling limply to his sides.

A final kick and he was down, lying flat on his back on the concrete. He immediately grabbed his head, groaning and rolling over pathetically.

Hero laughed, victorious.

“Now who’s surrendering?”

Overexertion

(Villain POV)

To say I was impressed may have been an understatement.

I didn’t really realize how many people were in the building when I rigged it to collapse. Now, I was watching a steady stream exit from every available opening. Easily hundreds of people flooded the streets, melding into the crowd that was already gathered outside. I knew that Hero would be able to slow the collapse, but I had no idea she would be able to hold it for this long. The plan was to tire her out so I could initiate a battle with a higher chance of capture. At this rate though, there may not be much left of the hero to capture.

More chunks of granite and marble slid off the sides of the building, luckily avoiding the major crowds and leaving stragglers to successfully dodge the falling debris.

The people exiting the courthouse slowed to a trickle, and then to a stop as the remaining structure began to shake and show clear that collapse was imminent.

Finally.

A heavy rumble and a chorus of shouts and screams erupted in front of me as I smiled. The commotion made for a great cover.

The second the dust settled I was scanning the crowd for where Hero had escaped to. I expected to see her ferrying wounded or checking on the children with first responders, maybe administering first aid or helping to reunite families. She was nowhere to be seen though, leaving those jobs to the police, medical professionals, and a few helpful civilians.

I turned back towards the collapsed building. The rubble was all greys and whites and reds, no sign of the conspicuous violet I sought. She wouldn’t have left the scene, not before everyone was taken care of and she was absolutely sure no one else needed to be rescued. But looking at the remains of the county building, I couldn’t imagine there being many survivors left inside.

She couldn’t have died, right?

I located the closest hole in the rubble and dashed in to explore. This wasn’t my first demolition and I was fairly certain there would be minimal shifting for at least a few minutes and what remained of the building was fairly structurally sound, but still, I needed to be quick.

It had been almost five minutes when I finally spotted a metallic purple jacket. For a second I feared that I would find Hero’s body pinned under a pillar or a large part of the ceiling with her chest caved in or something equally mission-ending, but I was relieved to find her lying in a small but completely open space, no debris but a thick layer of dust touching her form. I had been prepared to fight, but there was no need. Hero was definitely unconscious.

I approached quickly but quietly, sticking two fingers on her pulse point to detect a slow but steady heart beat. I immediately recognized her state as exhaustion. After all, there was no way she should have been able to hold up the entire building for as long as she did. Luckily, it seems she had been able to push long enough to protect herself with a small shield when the building did come down, with her still in it.

I had to work fast, before the site was deemed safe for rescue crews to enter and Hero was discovered before I could take her.

I wanted to leave unnoticed, partly due to the heavy police presence outside that I did not feel like dealing with today, so I had dressed rather inconspicuously. Jeans and black t-shirt. Hero, however, was in full dress so I stripped off the recognizable jacket and replaced her hood with a beanie. Her thick black leggings were passable, as long as no one looked too closely at what was sewn into the pockets. I rolled her into a hoodie I had wrapped around my waist, shoving her iconic jacket into my bag then picking her up and retracing my steps out into the crowded streets.

We were both covered in dust, looking inconspicuously like any two victims who had resolved to get themselves to the hospital instead of dealing with an expensive ambulance and backlogged roads. Unfortunately for Hero, the hospital was not our real destination.

Too busy with their eyes glued to the news or their phones to check on family members, nobody noticed me carry Hero back to my base on the other side of town.

She graciously stayed asleep for the walk, and would probably continue that for at least another day or two. All the more convenient for me.

I laid her down on a table in my receiving room, finally resting my sore arms from the trek across the city. As much as I would have loved to fireman carry her out of there, a bridal carry was much less suspicious on the streets of City, especially between a man and a woman.

I was just glad she wasn’t awake to question me about it. Gentleness and chivalry were not exactly on brand for me, and I liked it to stay that way.

I pulled her jacket out of my bag first and rifled through the pockets for anything of any importance. I came across an accordion folded card with a front that was caution-orange and stopped to read the text printed on the front. It read:

Yes I know my limits, I just choose to ignore them.

If found, pls read (or not lmao I’m probably too dead or unconscious to care)

I knew that some people carried emergency cards on their person with important information, but it was always a trade off because you ran the risk of it being found and revealing information in a situation in which you would rather it not. I wondered if Hero would want me to read this in this particular situation or not, had she been conscious. Either way, I entertained myself by unfolding the paper. It did say please, after all.

It continued:

So obviously I did something either super heroic (I hope) or really stupid (probable). Maybe even both.

Anyway if you’re trying to keep me alive, good luck.

It then listed key medical information such as blood type and medications, complete with a large print ‘please skip to here if actively dying’ label.

Villain scanned through information before moving to the back of the comically long card with comically tiny print and reading:

If I’m dead (and you’re taking requests) I would like to be cremated and have my ashes mixed with a tree. (And preferably planted somewhere I won’t be cut down or die within a year lol)

Have a great day :) (or, if you’re a villain: I hope both sides of your pillow are warm every night and you jump every time you hear a toaster go off.)

P.S. don’t feel bad about any of this, I knew what I was doing (unless, once again, you are a villain, in which case go fuck your self, feel bad all you want, dirtbag)

I allowed myself a small chuckle. She wasn’t consciously around to hear it anyway.

A broken com, some cash, and miscellaneous tools were all there was to find in the rest of the clothing I searched.

My next order of business was checking Hero for any injuries, a process which I will admit is a lot easier and less awkward when your subject is conscious. Still, I didn’t need the hero bleeding out or dying from some unseen wound while incapacitated in my care.

Rolling her back out of the hoodie, I crumpled and tucked the fabric under her head and neck to separate them from the hard surface.

A cursory inspection revealed no clear cuts in the fabric of her tank top or visible skin of the front, nor any bloodstains in the lighter sections of her leggings. I lifted and turned over both of Hero’s bare arms, finding nothing of concern anywhere I could see. The same was true for her lower legs and abdomen.

Resolved to simply deal with any other possible hidden wounds if the issue later arose, I retreated deeper into my lair to further prepare for my guest.

An empty cell awaited, and Hero would not stir on the cot for some time.

Hero and Villain Go Tubing

They got an early start, arriving at the water mid-morning bright-eyed and eager.

Well, at least one of them was.

“Remind me again why you made this a stipulation of our neutrality deal,” Hero groaned.

They stood upon a rock overlooking a semi-shallow green river with their ecstatic nemesis by their side.

A toothy grin spread across the villain’s face in response.

“It’ll be fun!”

For Hero, that was yet to be determined.

The hero’s swim trucks were adorned with cartoon flamingos. When questioned, Hero had asserted that they were a gift, and they didn’t go swimming often enough to own a second pair. Villain was dressed in more ‘tasteful’ swimwear, a dark blue rash guard and green shorts.

Hero sighed, “You brought the tubes, right?”

“They come with the tickets, we just give them back when we get out,” Villain explained.

“Tickets?” Hero questioned, “We’re paying for this?”

“Of course not!” Villain assured, then corrected, “You’re paying for this.”

Obviously, Hero had not bothered to read the fine print on the contract they signed.

They begrudgingly made their way to the ticket building across the street, mumbling something about ‘touristicification’ and good-old-fashion private waterways. Hero returned with a tube on each arm. One a cool blue, the other a neon pink.

Villain reached for the blue, but was swatted away by Hero not-so-gently flinging the pink tube at him.

Villain scowled, but inwardly he may have smiled.

Hero didn’t need to know that, though.

They took a step towards the water access before Hero’s voice interrupted them.

“We’re not leaving until you put on sunscreen.”

“I didn’t bring any-

“I did!”

Villain was interrupted by the taste of banana boat entering his open mouth as Hero sprayed him down with SPF.

Villain spit, gagging from the bitter aerosol assault.

Thouroghly protected from the sun, courtesy of the now-smiling Hero, Villain and Hero began their trek towards the put-in point. Halfway there, Villain stopped, searching for something he didn’t seem to find in Hero’s hands.

“Where’s the stick?” He asked, and Hero rolled their eyes.

“I was not paying five dollars for a stick. We can scavenge for one if it’s that important.”

Villain begrudgingly continued on. They made their way down to the water, wading out across the rocky river bed to an acceptable distance before falling gracefully boarding the tubes.

Just like that, they were off.

Their inter-tubes had been linked together by a nylon strap, so they floated in tandem. At first it was leisurely, feet hanging in the water and heads tilted back to gaze up at the tree canopy. That was, until, a sudden jerk had them stuck in place.

Their first obstacle.

A rock.

“You’re stuck!” Hero yelped, looking over at Villain, affronted at him for ruining the peaceful moment.

“No you’re stuck!”

Hero scoffed. They both looked around into the water, trying to locate the source of their sudden loss of momentum. Hero rocked to no avail, legitimizing their claim that this debacle was not their fault. Villain refused to move, so the hero grabbed the connecting strap.

Hero yanked hard, and the tubes spun free of the rock and caught the current again.

“I told you we needed sticks.”

“You didn’t even help!”

Hero leaned back, staring at the clear sky once again. Until Villain saw fit to once again ruin the moment.

“I think this journey is deserving of a soundtrack,” he spoke.

They pulled out a speaker from who-knows-where. In true villainous fashion, they pressed play at the highest volume, subjecting the entire river to their playlist.

“~I know, you wanted me to stay~”

“What is this?” Hero asked.

Villain gasped.

“You’ve never heard Pink Pony Club?!”

“Never heard what now?”

The villain didn’t answer, letting the singer answer for herself.

“~I’m gonna keep on dancing at the Pink Pony Club~”

“Is that the kind of club I think it is?! This is not appropriate-“

“If you want to hear not appropriate…” the villain cursed, and the Hero’s jaw dropped open, but he wasn’t looking at them.

“Villain!”

Villain snapped his mouth shut as he caught Hero’s gaze and saw the child floating by. He blushed at the glare shot to him by the kid’s guardian, who paddled them both by as quickly as possible.

“I see why you needed someone obligated to come with you. Clearly no one would do this willingly,” Hero stated, much to the chagrin of their tethered partner.

“Oh come on, its not that bad,”

“It’s not, you are.”

Ice cold water cascaded in drops over the Hero. They froze, then turned slowly to face the grinning villain.

He just splashed them. Like a toddler.

Taking the high road, they decided not to strike back, lest they be reduced to the low, low level of their criminal companion.

When Villain failed to get the reaction he wanted, he did it again, this time drenching the entirety of Hero’s lap.

Hero’s mouth gaped.

“Ugh, could it get more hot out?” Villain complained.

“Need I remind you this was your idea?”

“I’m melting, Hero.”

Hero saw the opportunity and took it. They wedged their feet under his tube and lifted up, flipping the inflatable with Villain still inside it. They never saw it coming, and thus were successfully dumped into the pocket of deeper water.

When Villain surfaced, they cut Hero a deadly glare.

“That wasn’t very heroic of you,” they said, pushing back their now-soaked hair.

Hero shrugged.

“You said you were hot. I just saved you from a heat stroke.”

Unfortunately for Hero, some retaliation was in order.

Another large(and several small) splashes later, and they were both overboard.

Both looking like seals trying to scale an iceberg, they eventually managed to climb back into their floatation devices.

All was calm, for all of five seconds.

A crescendo of a rushing sound alerted the pair that they were approaching a rapid.

Ahead, an outcropping of rocks bifurcated their path. On either side, a small cascade prevented smooth travel forward. Hero gestured to the widest side, and his companion nodded.

“I’m going down first,” Villain asserted, aggressively paddling one handed towards the right side of the river.

Hero startled as the angle of the tubes shifted as they were pulled towards the miniature waterfall.

“I don’t wanna go backwards!” They screeched.

In a panic, Hero unbuckled the tether between them.

No longer connected, Hero’s tube passed Villain’s by, following their chosen path smoothly.

Hero looked back to find Villain farther behind them than they should have been.

Unmoving.

They were stuck.

“Wiggle!” Hero called.

The villain managed a vague side to side movement.

“That’s not wiggling!” Hero yelled, exasperated. They were quickly approaching a bend, and they had to crane their neck back to catch sight of the villain.

“This IS wiggling!” They defended.

“THEN WIGGLE HARDER!”

Soon the Hero was out of sight, and Villain had to make the ego-crushing decision to leave his tube to try and displace it off the rock.

Hero only knew he had fallen flat on his face instead when the neon pink tube floated by, its occupant conspicuously absent.

A ridiculously long time later:

The two enemies crawled out of the river, collapsing side by side onto the bank.

One package of bandaids and several towels later, they spoke,

“We should do this again sometime.”

“Never.”

For the Greater Good

(Hero POV)

I walked into the warehouse alone. No weapons, no mask, no backup.

Every rise of my feet felt like a climb up a mountain, every fall feeling like a step off a cliff. I could have sworn I didn’t take a single breath as I walked into the wide open space, crates and barrels scattered around in a typical warehouse fashion. The lights that remained on buzzed from the corner of what appeared to be a break room and from various machinery peppered by the garage-like doors.

I didn’t know exactly where I was going, just that I was supposed to be here, at this exact time.

I arrived on the block two hours early, and spent every last second before 2 o’clock alternating between pacing and curling up into a ball and rocking myself on the empty sidewalk. I finally stepped into what I estimated to be the middle of the space, virtually incapable of taking another step. My muscles quaked and I considered if I should just give in to the exhaustion and lie right here until someone came and got me. My pride suggested I stay upright, so I settled for a comprise of leaning heavily against the nearest weighted crate. I crossed my arms in what should have been a nonchalant appearance, but it was really just to keep my hands from shaking by my sides.

I took a few deep breaths and checked my watch.

2:02

God, I wanted to laugh. If there was any humor left in this situation I would have. I tried to keep my mind blank, waiting. But as the minutes ticked on, my determination waned.

I couldn’t leave.

Wouldn’t.

Lightheadedness swam through my brain, and I relented and lowered myself to the floor as black creeped in around my vision. I laid flat on the concrete ground, kicking my feet up onto the slats of the crate I was previously leaning against. The lights above me were dim, but I still closed my eyes in aversion to the brightness. I needed dark, calm. I needed to be anywhere else but here.

I checked my watch again, then pillowed my hands behind my head. Tears welled up in my eyes against my will.

2:05

Screw pride. Pride went out the window a long, long time ago.

I let the thin little salty rivers run freely down the sides of my face to pool uncomfortably at my ears. I was surrendering to my enemies, why not surrender to the tears too?

An eternity passed before footsteps finally echoed around the building. I didn’t bother to get up, not even to move. I didn’t bother to stop crying either, in fact the tears may have only gotten stronger as I stayed rooted in place.

“Sorry for the delay, we had to make sure you weren’t followed,” a voice announced itself. I didn’t turn towards it.

“You doing alright down there?” It asked, sounding infuriatingly genuine.

“Perfect. Never better,” I choked. There was no hiding the crack in my voice now.

“Shit dude, I didn’t think this would get to you that bad.”

What did you think was gonna happen? I was just gonna skip to your door with a couple of flowers and some handcuffs all gift wrapped for you with a wide ass smile on my face?

“Do you…need a minute?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

A minute or two passed before I gathered what was left of my composure. The tears stopped flowing and my head stopped swimming. I removed one boot after the other from the ledge they rested on and started the slow journey back to my feet.

“Ready?” The voice I finally matched with a sight asked. Henchman.

I sniffed, wiping my nose on my sleeve before nodding solemnly. This was by far the most courteous capture I’ve ever had the pleasure of falling victim to, hilarious given the circumstances.

“I’m gonna pat you down,” he warned, and I nodded my acknowledgment. Gentle hands brushed my body and found nothing, as promised. A light touch gripped my arm and pushed towards a path between the crates.

“Let’s go.”

We walked in silence for a while, I was too close to the emotional edge to break it. Henchman had no such reservations though.

“I could tell the guys the extra time was from a fight,” he suggested lightheartedly.

I merely shook my head.

“Yeah you’re right, probably a bad idea.”

Despite myself, a small smile crept past my lips. His words brought the only comfort I’d felt all day.

With every step I could feel my clarity returning.

I was going to be fine.

We walked out a side door and outside into the gravel, where it appeared a caravan awaited. I might have been flattered if I didn’t feel so damn helpless.

“One Hero, clean as promised,” I was presented to the arc of people gathered in various states of masked.

“You were supposed to secure them, Henchman,” Villain looked me up and down, then shot at annoyed look at the man at my side.

Henchman did not reply, only looking from me to the crowd closing in around us, then back to me and returning to Villain knowingly. So I definitely looked as bad as I felt; it was nice to know my face was making its debut red-blotched and tear stained no doubt with the edition of heavy bags under the eyes.

Villain simply shook his head, then stepped forward to grab me.

“Wait,” called another voice, and I struggled to identify its origin until a blue and gray clad person stepped forward. “How do we know it’s them?”

He stared at me in blatant disbelief, and I found the energy to be a little offended.

Like anyone else would do this. Like I would take the risk to let them.

Various people exchanged looks, and I struggled to believe that no one had actually thought this part through. Several looks pinned me down expectantly, and I also found the power to be a little bit annoyed.

Of course their lack of foresight would become my responsibility.

Nonetheless, my eyes roamed the crowd, before pinning down an unsuspecting figure in a suit with red chrome outlines. I pointed to them, before pulling down the collar of my shirt to reveal a thick pink scar stretching horizontally about an inch below my collarbone. Chrome stepped closer through the crowd to see, then nodded his approval. Villain stepped forward to grab me once more, but he was stopped by someone decked out in forest green.

“Your hand,” they indicated, and I brought up my arm to reveal the back of my right hand and yanked down my sleeve so they could trace the jagged scar carved down to middle of my forearm.

“That enough? Are y’all convinced?” I spun around, pinning several people right back with their own gazes. I seemed nothing like the person on the warehouse floor.

No, with every passing second, I was feeling more and more like a hero.

I guess they were in fact convinced, because I was finally escorted into an SUV and placed in the middle of a bench seat sandwiched between Villain and a larger man I barely recognized. The whole process was pretty ego-inflating honestly.

Unfortunately, Villain did finally get his wish of restraining me after the car had rolled to a stop and I was transferred into a building via an underground garage.

I didn’t think.

Couldn’t.

My fate was in the hands of my enemies, and I had just handed it over.

Spy?

(Inspired by the song “Spy?” by WHOKILLEDXIX)

Hero stood in a rough circle surrounded by the group of villains. Their voices were overlapping, all arguing over the fresh mission failure.

“It was Lookout’s job to make sure we weren’t followed,” one voice—Blueprint—argued.

“We weren’t! I’m positive,” Lookout defended.

“It was probably the panic alert from the front desk,” Hero accused, looking pointedly at Guardsman.

“I got that guard before he even got close to that button, there’s no way that’s how the cops knew we were there.”

Pulling out a phone, one accomplice walked to the edge of the room, pressing the device to his ear.

Hero engaged passionately with the quarreling criminals, trying desperately to salvage their mission and keep their cover intact. Hero was deep undercover as a security expert in a large heist led by Villain, and the takedown they had orchestrated had not quite gone according to plan. The hero did their best to stoke the flames of anger and disappointment between the crew. The more they were at each other’s throats, the less they were thinking rationally about what really went wrong.

“If everyone had just stuck to the plan-“

“It was YOU who-“

“Ok, let’s be logical about this-“

“And then you didn’t-“

“It’s a miracle we all got away-“

The man on the phone returned to the group, face made of stone. He raised a hand, and the bickering quieted.

“My inside guy says they were there within a minute of us going in.”

“So the cops were tipped,” Locksmith concluded.

“Alright, so who knew?” Lookout asked from the left.

“The driver,” Blueprint chimed in on Hero’s right.

“He didn’t know the location, and I only hired him today. We picked up the vehicles 30 minutes before and it never left my sight,” explained Mover, the one who had been delegated to arrange transportation.

“No one else was told, it was all in-house.”

Silence dawned in the room as realization hit the criminals one by one.

“The location was need-to-know. Villain didn’t even tell half of us,” Locksmith pointed out.

“Actually, I only told one of you,” he corrected nonchalantly.

Shit.

“So that means-“

“My, my,” He turned slowly with the words, locking eyes with Hero, “I think we have a spy.”

They were made.

Two seconds and they were out the door, heart and feet pounding as fast as they could. Hero burst into the stairwell and was faced with a split second decision: up? Or down?

The backup spot at which they had met up after the disaster was located in the heart of the city, and Hero hoped the mid-day masses would be enough to help them get away. First though, they had to make it out of this building.

Temporarily closed for some upper level renovations, the office was five stories high and packed closely with the surrounding businesses.

Passing the large painted number three in a flash, Hero headed for the top.

They didn’t risk a glance back, but they heard several people slam open the door behind them. A chorus of footsteps echoed through the stairwell. Hero climbed, breathing heavily and mind racing to trace an escape route. A painted number five marked the top of the stairwell and Hero turned away from the roof access. If they remembered correctly from their recon, the East side of the building should back right up to an apartment complex with an outdoor fire escape.

They threw the door open and were met with a bare-bones floor. The entire level was sectioned by plastic sheeting, making it difficult to locate the windows and any potential dangers. Hero’s feet danced over stray boards and around forgotten construction equipment. Shouts alerted them that their pursuers were not far behind, but their figure was already blurred behind several layers of sheeting.

Most of the yelling was unintelligible, but one voice rose about the rest.

“I hope you’re ready to learn what happens to little rats!”

Hero made the mistake of turning towards the voices, taking their eyes off the floor and the bucket that they were about to crash into. They tumbled to the floor with a yelp, taking a clear sheet of plastic with them. They flailed, scrambling to their feet and shaking their limbs frantically to unravel themselves. They caught a glimpse of a set of boots several feet away before they pushed off the floor and continued heading for the wall.

Pushing past a final divider, they saw unfiltered light spilling in through a missing piece of wall. They threw themselves through the gap, standing on the narrow window frame still intact on the exterior side of the building.

Just as they had remembered, a metal staircase laid just a few feet ahead.

They didn’t mean to hesitate, but stopping their momentum had apparently allowed a singular assailant enough time to catch up. A hand gripped the back of Hero’s shirt, preventing them from making the leap.

Damn they were fast.

Hero threw back an elbow, connecting with a set of ribs. The grip on their shirt loosened and they turned, their fist connecting to a jaw and then a cheekbone.

Speedy’s head snapped to the side and Hero was released. They pushed off the side of the building before they could fall, catching the railing with both hands and hauling themselves up and over it.

They landed on the fire escape with a clang. Hoping to throw off the group closing in, Hero scaled a level before ducking in a conveniently-open window into an apartment. Hero used the time it took them to cross the kitchen area towards the door to make an unwitting accomplice of the person that startled on the couch.

“Do the inside stairs have roof access?” They asked breathlessly.

The stunned resident simply nodded their head.

Hero barely waited for the response, already halfway across the hall by the time the person shouted after them.

They turned a corner and caught the shine of an elevator door sliding closed a few feet away.

“Hold it!” They called, and a man pushing a large trash can put a hand in the doorway, leaving Hero enough time to slip in just before it closed.

“In a hurry, today, aren’t we?”

Hero chuckled breathlessly.

“You have no idea.”

The man gestured towards the buttons on his side of the small elevator.

“Floor?”

“The lobby, please.”

Hero clasped their arms awkwardly in front of them, trying not to breathe too loudly as they watched the numbers tick down slowly on the electronic screen. When they finally reached the bottom, the elevator chimed and the doors slid open to a fairly-active lobby. The door to the staircase was still closed, and Hero breathed a silent sigh of relief.

“After you,” the service worker waved, and Hero voiced their thanks before crossing the carpeted floor and passing through the revolving door.

Out of immediate danger, they slowed to an even pace, sliding off their beanie and slipping off their jacket to tie around their waist. They tossed the hat as soon as they could without getting ticketed for littering and entered the second shop they saw after turning down a different road.

They needed to get off the street, and fast. By now, word would be out about their betrayal.

Unfortunately, things had gone so off script that Hero found themselves on the opposite side of the city than their usual safe houses. They couldn’t risk getting near any police stations, and since this wasn’t the typical residential side of town, staying on the street after another hour or so would be incredibly suspicious. Those who worked went home soon, and those who lived here locked their doors.

Weighing those thoughts, Hero’s best option seemed to be to cross the city while they still could.

One change of clothes later, and Hero was back on a crosswalk, moving with a crowd dressed in mostly business-causal attire. Two more rights and they spotted a station, and graciously they had enough cash left to cover the fare for a ride all the way to South side.

The covered bench at which they waited was warm, but they couldn’t get comfortable. Their head was whipping in every direction, trying to identify if they were being followed. Paranoia creeped in and their neck muscles began to protest the strain of repeated movements. By the time they could board the Greyhound, the other citizens were eyeing Hero wearily.

Unconcerned with how erratic they appeared, Hero hopped on the bus, settling into a window seat in the middle. They relaxed as it started to move, shifting their gaze to the window.

Buildings upon buildings passed by, all slowly emptying as the minutes crept closer to the end of the business day. Idle chatter filled the bus.

The more blocks that passed, the more optimistic Hero became.

More commuters entered on the next stop. Exhausted, Hero paid no mind to the blue collar workers filling up the seats around them.

Some people must have pushed past the ones trying to exit the bus, because an older man in front of Hero made a comment about everybody being in a rush nowadays. Several people mumbled their agreement as someone settled into the seat beside Hero, holding a newspaper that crinkled as they sat.

“Trying to outrun the stressors of life, I suppose,” a woman replied from across the aisle.

Something tapped Hero’s shoe, and they leaned down to grab a water bottle that had rolled from the seat in front of them.

“You know what my dad always said about that?” The man beside Hero asked, setting down his newspaper.

Hero raised their arm to tap on the shoulder of the bottle’s probable owner.

Behind them, another person shifted, then answered lightly, “You can run, but you can’t hide.”

If Hero was anyone else, they would not have recognized the danger in Villain’s tone.

Before they could react, cold metal pressed to the side of their neck. In the reflection of the window, Hero could make out a hand holding a knife behind them. They flicked their eyes to the side, finally catching the bruising coming up on their seatmate’s cheekbone and jaw. In front, Blueprint turned and grabbed the bottle from their outstretched hand.

They were surrounded.

Part Two: You’re Gonna Go Far, Kid