Not a Hero

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The (Very Disgruntled) Villain

A door swung open and promptly swung shut as a, frankly, pouty young man stomped in. His boots were in hand as a pair of soaked socks squished upon the cold concrete floors. Tertius threw his bag to the side, taking off his goggles as he glared around the building.

It was dark, dank, but it was his. All three stories of the abandoned factory. Cliche, yes, but if you haven’t quite gotten the hint yet, it’s what he’s going for. As the door slammed shut, a few small brown birds fluttered around close to the ceiling. Every window was extremely dirty from the use years ago, but it let only a golden glow in even when the sun was as bright as can be. The walls were brick and towered up above him, platforms here and there holding various rooms, metal catwalks floating all about. The floor was a chipped and dented concrete covered in desks and bookshelves and computers and a giant comfy couch for when he needed a power nap.

Light bulbs-- the ones from centuries ago that were nice and round and gave a golden glow (although it was dim and over all did little good and were rather harsh unlike the ones in the world about) hung from various places, casting shadows all over and light upon many of the old wooden surfaces.

“Sir!” a voice chirped many feet up. It was bright like the face that stared over a railing. A round face with perfect skin, teeth as straight as can be, eyes black like the night, and smooth black hair. He smiled gleefully as he saw Tertius and he dashed down the stairs, every footstep clanging as he hurried down.

Tertius merely glared back, still frowning as he ran a hand through the soggy red curls he hated more than just about anything. “Felix,” he muttered in his permanently cold tone. This was his “henchman.” I use quotations because the happy being of light I have described was persistent on being one, despite Tertius’ many objections. Not only did he adore Tertius, he felt as though he needed to repay him from a favor only a few years back.

“Sir, did it go al--”

“No,” Tertius growled, flopping upon the overstuffed couch, a large wet patch spreading beneath him. He curled up a bit, nose wrinkled like a raised as his freckles scrunched up with it.

“What ha--”

“Gus happened,” he growled. Felix sighed quietly and sat next to his friend, lightly patting his hunched shoulder.

“I don’t think she really means any harm....” he told him gently with a small smile. “She’s a nice girl it just so happens that--”

“She stands for every single thing I loathe,” he grumbled, flopping like a fish onto his other side, muttering to himself about the young woman called Gus.

Augustine.

Augustine, his arch nemesis.

Alright, /maybe/ she didn’t look at him that way, but he looked at her like that. She was a hero-- or that was the common term for them. Guardians of Order was ridiculous and GoO sounded nothing short of silly.

While Tertius was the king of unreasonable prejudices, he knew of the heroes far more than he ever wanted to. He knew their every dirty secret and the facade they put on for the public’s favor and he knew that nothing good would come from them. EVER.

“Gus wants nothing more than for me to be publicly shamed!” he declared dramatically, crossing his arms over his chest, continuing the childish pout. His silvery eyes studied his feet as they were propped upon his beaten coffee table.

“Sir, you’re being just a little bit.....” Felix shrugged, shrugging his shoulders a bit as he relaxed, his shorter, strong form juxtaposed to the tall, stick like one beside him. “All she does is state facts and keep you from doing anything too--”

“Too /bad/,” he finished, grimacing. “Look! It’s what I do! Why does she keep insisting that I mean to do what I do?”

“I know you don’t mean to do all that,” Felix told him gently, giving him another comforting pat, hand glowing red as it heated to a temperature good for soothing others. He gave a soft smile, dark eyes twinkling benevolently.

Tertius let up an obnoxious groan.

“Look at the paper from last month. Look,” he grumbled, grabbing a rumbled and coffee stained newspaper from the table his feet were upon. He held it up with distaste, pinching the bridge of his nose. Over a picture of him scowling, a headline read “NINETEEN YEAR OLD SAVES KITTEN FROM TREE”

“Hm,” Felix hummed, frowning a little at it, stroking his chin as though there was more than his smooth skin there. “Well, at least it’s only a local paper! I highly doubt that many people read it...”

“Three old ladies told me how good of a young man I was! THREE!” Tertius yelled with emphasis. This was a new record and not one he was proud of in any way, shape, or form. Ashamed of it really.

“Gus thinks she’s being nice and making you a better person by telling the papers...”

“But I’m not a good person! I’m sick of being a ’hero.”

“You’re not a hero, you’re a villain!” the other encouraged, gesturing out to the building with a sense of pride. Computers and papers and papers and plans hung from every wall with explosives and weapons and robots he had built. “I mean look at this! A perfect evil lair!”

A bird shat upon Tertius’ shoulder right on cue, clearly more evil than mister grouchy pants below.

“What happened, anyways?” Felix asked, wiping the poop off with a slightly disgusted expression.

Tertius grumbled, leaning back as he crossed his arms over his chest, looking up and the ceiling. “Well,” she sighed. “I can tell you this.”

The image of a girl’s stupid smile and stupid Gus looking all perfect like always flashed before his mind along with a chipper reporter.

“It didn’t go well.”

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