"why are you laughing?! I'm finally about to KILL you"
"I'm sorry, really. It's just you did all this. So much planning, the trickery, the bribes, making yourself an international criminal and all for nothing"
"WHAT are you talking about? You're here alone with me. Weaponless, bleeding, you're half way to death!"
"that's the thing. I was already half way to death before all this"
"Wha-"
"I'm already dying. If you didn't kill me today I would have been dead before next week. Next week I would have died a fraud, a con man, someone they are never really sure is on their side but right now, I die a hero. All this for nothing"
Could you do a story where a guard of a Supermax prison befriends a supervillain, because he treats him like a genuine human being instead of an animal; and later, all the power-dampeners suddenly fail; and all these villains just revolt against the guards; but supervillain makes sure he’s safe since he was always kind to him?
Love Ur writing!!
aaaaaaa this was such a fun idea - im absolutely in love with this lil dynamic!! hope you enjoy reading as much as i did writing it :D
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tw blood, death
Animals. That’s all the agency ever saw the villains as. Animals they could poke and push and test and break into nothing.
So when the jail’s power-dampeners fail, the villains are more than happy to make like the tigers are out of their cage.
The villain to the supervillain’s right is burning the lock on his cell door. The villain on his left has fazed straight through hers. The supervillain steps up to the iron bars across his own cell to look beyond.
VIllains are flooding the corridor, breaking for the stairs one by one. “You,” he snaps as someone passes, and they thankfully slow down. “Open the door.”
Escape might be tantalising, if the villain’s quick glance to the stairs is anything to go by, but no villain ignores a supervillain. They rest their hands against the door for a moment, their brow knitted in concentration for a moment, before the lock clunks open.
“What is it you always say to me?” The hero shoved her sword a little closer to the pulse trembling in her rival’s neck. “’You look so good on your knees’? Well honey, I think you’ve been projecting.”
I don't usually do this kind of thing, but this little popped immediately into my head when I saw the prompt, so here it goes.
"What is it you always say to me?" The hero shoved her sword a little closer to the pulse trembling in her rival's neck. "'You look so good on your knees'? Well honey, I think you've been projecting."
Breath fast but steady, her rival tipped her head, the corner of her lips ghosting up. She leaned forward, enough for the sword edge to draw a fine line of blood. "Are you mad because I said it-"
She jerked the back of the hero's knee forward and wrenched herself back. The sword just missed her as the hero flailed to keep her balance, falling as her rival shoved up and forward, hand on the hero's throat as she slammed her back to the ground.
The hero shows up at the villain’s doorstep one night. They’re shivering, bleeding, scared. There’s also a slightly dazed look in their eyes– they were drugged. They look like they were assaulted. Looking up at the villain, swaying slightly as they’re close to passing out, they mumble “…didn’t know where else to go…” then collapse into the villain’s arms.
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