Caffeine and Magix

gingerly-writing:

“When I die, the world will be yours for the taking. The question is, what will you do with it?”

A red lipstick smile. “I won’t be taking the world.” The smile sours. “It’s…telling you’d think that though.”

The Hero strains against their bonds. They’ve never been in this situation before–bound by thick chains in the Villain’s lair. They’ve never been caught before and it’s throwing them off their game. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She doesn’t answer. Her heels click against the linoleum floor as she walks the perimeter of the room. There are photos on the wall of destruction. Houses burning and skyscrapers crumbling. Pits in the earth and scorch marks across asphalt. She stops behind them. Out of sight. “I didn’t think I’d be able to capture you so easily.”

The Hero didn’t think it was possible either. The Villainess behind them is newly risen in her predecessor’s place. They didn’t even know the old villain retired, didn’t know villains could retire. You’re supposed to be a Villain until you die. “You caught me off guard. If you’d fought fair, I would have–”

She’s in front of them between one breath and the next, one hand one either armrest, looming over them. “You would have what? Set me on fire?”

The Hero stutters. Her eyes are almost as black as the mask covering most of her face. “You attacked me from behind like a coward–”

“You would have heard me coming if you hadn’t been blowing up the street,” she says. 

The Hero hisses. “You had the Thief distract me while you snuck up–”

“Bullshit,” she says. “Bullshit you were setting off bombs trying to get the Thief.”

“I would have gotten him!” The Hero’s hands clench. “If you hadn’t destroyed the last one, he would’ve been knocked out.”

“Knocked out,” she says. “Knocked out.” Her breath smells like cinnamon when she sighs and pulls away from them. “Knocked out.”

The Hero opens their mouth to respond, but forces it shut when she turns her back. There’s a voice in their mind that they haven’t heard in a while telling them to shut up. That voice is telling them to be afraid.

“Y-yeah,” the Hero says around their dry mouth. They are not afraid. “It would have worked. I’ve done it before.”

“I KNOW!” She turns on them again, rage clear in the twist of her mouth and the clench of her fist. She looks like she did during the battle–feral and ruthless. “You’ve done it before! That’s your thing, you use your pyro-power to light bombs and you make them explode, but don’t worry, the Hero doesn’t kill! They don’t maim! They just–” she laughs, high and cold “–knock out.”

This time, the Hero stays silent when that little voice begs them to.

“You’re insane,” she says. “You have to be. Because any sane person wouldn’t think they could set off a bomb without casualties. Any sane person wouldn’t use a power like yours to knock out a criminal.”

“I’ve never killed anyone,” the Hero blurts out. Their heart is pounding against their ribs, shaking their whole body in their chair. “I’ve never–”

“Oh, well, if you say so,” she says. 

“Ask your predecessor,” the Hero says. Their wrists twist in the chains. She must have put something in them to block their power. The can’t call their flames to their hands. “I’ve never killed anyone.”

A funny look crosses her face. “My predecessor.”

“Yeah,” the Hero says. “The Villain, he’s–He knows. I’ve been fighting him for years and he’ll tell you the only one with a body count is him.”

“The Villain isn’t my predecessor,” she says.

That stops the Hero cold. “What?” They shake their head. Every town has a Villain and a Hero. The bigger ones might have a few more, but not this one. Their town is small. Quiet. Practically rural. “But you’re a Villainess.”

She studies them like they’re  bug who’s finally said something interesting. “You would think that, wouldn’t you? You’d have to, I guess.” Her lip curls. “You’re the Hero.”

The Hero doesn’t like the way she says their name, mocking and mean. “I am.”

“You were.”

Just two words and it’s like they’ve been shot. They stare at her and try to say something. Anything. But their mind is blank.

She doesn’t have the same problem. “Look at these photos,” she says. “You haven’t noticed anything…familiar about them?”

They find themselves looking at the walls. The destruction they’d written off as a peculiar, villainous taste, is familiar. There’s the crumbling ruins of the old town hall. Those scorch marks run the length of Main Street and that house on fire–it’s the Smith’s house.

“No,” they say.

“These are the scenes of your victims,” she says. She points to the flames. “That is proof of your crimes.”

“I saved people,” the hero says before they know they’re going to say it. The words fall from their mouth like a river. “The Villain was stealing from the Town Hall and I sealed his escape route–”

“–trapping a security guard within the crumbling wreckage–”

“–and if I hadn’t blown up Main Street the poison would have gotten into the water supply–”

“–six cars were caught in the blast, two filled with kids–”

“–a-and the Thief broke into the Smith house–”

“ENOUGH,” she roars. The fury is back in the line of her shoulders. “Are those the lies you’ve been telling yourself? You stopped a crime so collateral damage is okay? Who gave you the power to decide what cost was worth it? Who gave you the right?”

“I’m the Hero,” they start to say.

“You were,” she says, her words running over theirs. She steps forward until her knees are bumping theirs. “You asked me who my predecessor is?” She holds out her hand and flames spring from her palm. Their power, now hers. “You are.”

“It’s not possible,” they breathe. They’ve never heard of a Hero’s power transferring before the Hero dies. Like Villains, Heroes don’t retire. “I’m still alive.”

The Hero’s flame twists in their hands. The light from the fire turns her black eyes blacker than her mask. “You were.”

The room fills with fire.

(via reaclam)