For The Greater Good

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.

Helloo I love your work I wanna just munch on it every time you post >:)

I have a request but you totally dont have to do it I bet your probably busy with others anyway lol

If you could could you do a scenario where the Hero gets pretty sick and cant go out, but they have a public reputation they need to hold on to. And the Villain owes Hero for saving them once so they have to go out and impersonate the Hero? And they start to realize how hard and miserable the Hero has to work after saving somebody? Tyy :D sorry if to specific lol

(Hey! Thank you for the request, it’s my first and I’m flattered! Hope you like it <3)

Calling In Sick

A faint jiggling could be heard from inside their desk. Villain sighed, hanging their head for a moment before opening the drawer and answering the call.

“I’m not interested in purchasing an extended warranty-” they began, only to be cut off by a familiar voice.

“It’s Hero, dummy.”

Villain pulled the phone away from their ear to glance at the number on the screen.

“How did you get this number?”

“That’s not important,” Hero spoke hurriedly, “What is important, is that I need you to be me for today.”

“You need me to be what now?” Villain questioned, raising their eyebrow in a show of confusion, despite being completely alone in their office.

“It’s simple, you just have to put on the costume-”

“Why would I do that?” the villain asked incredulously.

“Because I’m sick!”

Hero coughed pitifully for emphasis.

“Surely you have someone else you can call,” Villain replied, dumbfounded.

Was this a joke?

“Not on such short notice. Please, Villain, I have a reputation to uphold.”

“Why would I care about your sterling reputation?” Villain laughed.

They were a villain, after all. Their entire role consisted of making the hero look bad.

A sniffle and sigh traveled through the speakers before Hero spoke again.

“You remember the City Tower?”

Of course Villain remembered the City Tower. They remembered the blaring of a horn, a hard shove on their shoulder, and the burning of skin against pavement.

How could they forget when Hero saved their life and never let them live it down since?

“Ugh! Seriously?! You push me out of oncoming traffic once-“

“Twice, actually.”

“What do you mean ‘twice’-”

“City park?”

Damn it. The pond incident.

“Fine! I’ll put on your stupid costume,” Villain grumbled.

A little impersonation was nothing compared to saving a life. Plus, if they really thought about it, the villain supposed the deception of the act was villainous enough to justify partaking in.

“Great! I’ll text you where to pick it up,” Hero informed them cheerfully before promptly hanging up.

A chime and a buzz came through the phone a moment later, and Villain gathered their things and headed for the door.

One finicky zipper and some shimmying later, and Villain was passable as the city’s golden savior.

Now what?

They wandered around town aimlessly for a while, getting a multitude of strange looks from citizens going about their day. They froze when they heard sirens whooping around the corner, before they realized that they were currently residing on the right side of the law.

Right. Think like a hero.

First order of business, save some people.

The spotted the red and blue lights, breaking into a sprint to follow them around a corner. They arrived at a building a few blocks later, and walked in just as a perimeter was being set.

“Hero! Thank God you’re here! My baby, he’s still up there!” A woman cried, pointing up to a balcony that appeared to be on the verge of collapse.

A boy hung off the side of it, feet kicking to try and find a grip on the wall.

Villain took off running towards the building, climbing three flights of stairs before they realized they hadn’t stopped to count what floor the boy was stuck on. They quickly located the nearest window and kicked out the screen, ducking their head out and looking down then up.

There, two floors directly above them dangled the kid, and it looked like he was loosing his grip.

His fingers slipped away, but Villain was ready. They braced their legs against the wall and leaned out as far as they could. As the child dropped, Villain caught hold of his forearm, stopping his momentum and allowing Villain to pull him inside to safety. The boy was crying, probably a product of the terror of falling combined with the shoulder that had just been wrenched from its socket.

“You’re okay, I’ve got you. It’s okay,” the villain-turned-hero repeated in a whisper as they carried the boy down the stairs and past the (too-late) emergency personnel that had flooded the building.

Stepping outside, Villain easily located the hysterical mother and making a beeline for her. The second she saw them coming, she burst into tears and broke out into a run.

Villain handed over the kid they had cradled in their arms to the woman who reached them at record speed.

Relief washed over the mother’s face while she looked over her son. She pushed his hair back behind his ear, whispering to him how worried she was and how glad she was to have him back on ground level.

Something changed when she saw his arm, however. Fury overtook her features as she realized that an injury had been sustained by the boy during the ordeal.

“You let my baby break his arm?!” She screeched, whipping her head back to the temporary hero.

“It’s not broken, ma’am,” they started to explain, “it’s just dislocated-“

“I’m going to be telling the news about this!” She spit, turning towards the ambulances on the perimeter and marching away with a huff.

“Absolutely unacceptable!” The villain could hear her yell as she walked away, injured-but-alive child in tow.

“I had no idea this profession was so thankless,” Villain murmured under their breath.

It wasn’t until they had to fight past the sea of cameras and wall of reporters shouting questions (that really sounded more like accusations) that Villain realized just how idealized they’d viewed the job of hero. There clearly was no simple fame and glory to be earned here. From what Villain could tell, it was mostly ridicule and media coverage masquerading as a reward for their heroism.

And no sick days?

Hero must be truly miserable.

If Villain was a little easier on Hero after that day, then nobody was any the wiser.

No thoughts, only Hero teaching Villain the HOT TO GO dance

HOT TO GO

It was easy enough for Villain to stalk Hero into the club. The lights, loud music, and number of people meant the villain could get close. Close enough, apparently, that Hero invited them to dance.

A new song had just started, and the people on the floor had spaced out as best they could, the people on the outskirts squishing together to make room. The shift had left about an arms length to the side between everyone on the dance floor.

“You look a little lost, honey,” spoke a sweet voice from behind them.

It was only then that Villain realized how stiff they must have been, standing alone while everyone around them was partaking in a dance they didn’t know.

“Want me to show you?”

Villain nodded, not wanting to risk their voice being recognized, even over the damagingly loud song. They certainly weren’t going to pass as a party-goer if they refused.

Hero stepped forward, taking Villain’s hands in their own. They were pressed front to back, and Villain could feel every steady breath through the hero’s chest.

When the next chorus hit, they raised both hands above their heads, forming two parallel lines. Next, they pulled down gently, bending both Villain’s arms slightly, rounding out the lines. Just as suddenly, their arms were pulled out to their sides, as wide as Hero’s wingspan would go. Fingers intertwined, their arms bounced once.

“~H-O-T-T~”

Villain stared straight ahead, scared to do anything but leave their arms limp in Hero’s sure hands.

Their hands were lifted once again, going round, then pulling one down and breaking the symmetry before going round again.

“~O-G-O~”

One hand was dropped as Hero spun them around before renewing their grip. Looking directly into their eyes, Hero led their hands to point in front of them, one by one.

“~You can take me~”

Bright neon lights flashed across the Hero’s face, and Villain hoped it was enough to obscure their features. In some strange mix of the YMCA dance and the macarena, Hero used their hands to cross Villain’s arms over their chest before slowly dragging them down. The descent was agonizing, especially when Hero’s knuckles brushed Villain’s hips and their breath caught.

“~Hot to go~”

Villain was twirled again and, mesmerized by the movement, they didn’t even realize why Hero had pulled both hands back instead of up. Hero’s chin laid to rest on Villain’s shoulder, breath hot on their ear when they muttered, “I might just take you ‘hot to go’.”

By the time cool metal clamped over their wrists, it was far too late for the villain to struggle.

“If only you could dance.”

They pulled away sharply, hauling Villain through the crowd and towards the exit.

“Maybe, you can practice in prison.”

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.

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