Realistic or Modern Villain Trains Hero

[Darkbloom]

The sound of his boots on marble flooring reverberate through the building as he walks past the bodies of people who got in his way. Maimed, dismembered, beheaded, are only a few of the methods he used to dispatch of them. He's fine with messy jobs, he'll do them any day of the week. But he also has standards. None of these people were incredibly strong, which he normally prefers. Being one of the top five villains in the world should at least allow him to be pitted against stronger heroes. He takes out a cellphone and sends a text to his boss. The job is done. Make it harder next time. With a sigh, the man slides his phone into his pocket and walks out with the desired object. Once he's outside, it is silent. No sirens, no police cars screeching to a halt, no officers getting out of their cars and hiding behind their car doors for cover while they point guns at him. It's been tried already, many times. As a result, more than half of the police force has died, leaving them with only a skeleton crew unable to stand up against even the most minor villain. "Hm. Really good night." He wonders what he'll have to achieve to become the number on villain in the world. These thoughts consume his mind as he walks home to his secret lair, and the amount of training required for it. Vinegar Bees

 

[Vinegar Bees]

Her brows furrowed, her chest squeezing in pain at the sight of the blood pooling in the corners of the man's mouth. His shoulders lurched forward; the only reason he was able to stay upright against the wall was because she was holding him there, and his voice gurgled with a surfeit of blood as he tried to speak.

"My... my daughter. Someone's got to pick her up from... from..."

"It's all right, sir. Don't speak. I'm going to help you, okay?"

The man's eyes were unfocused as he trained them on her, a look of bewilderment crossing his face as if he had just noticed her for the first time. "Who... who are you?"

How was she supposed to answer that, exactly? The uniform should give it away that she wasn't just an ordinary good Samaritan, but she wasn't an established hero yet, either—not in the public eye, anyway. Even if she did give an alias, it would mean nothing to the man.

"A friend," she said vaguely. "Just hold on, okay? I'm going to—"

The man shook his head, a film of tears coating his eyes. "Too... too late for me. Just... find the guy, okay? Big guy. Dark hood. He tore through us like we were butter. Find him. Don't let him... take another little girl's dad away..."

His voice trailed off; the light left his eyes. His head tipped to the side and went limp. Alarmed, she tried to rouse him by shaking his shoulders, but he was already going stiff. He was gone.

She had been too late. Hot, angry tears began to fill her eyes, too. Frustrated, she wiped them away. Crying wasn't going to fix anything. Crying wasn't going to bring the man back or give his daughter a better life. Carefully, she reached into the man's shirt pocket and pulled out his ID card, committing his name to memory. She would have to see if she could track down his daughter later, see if she could do anything for the poor girl. Until then, though, she knew she had to find the villain who had committed this atrocity, find out why they had done this. Maybe she couldn't bring back the people she had failed to save, but she could at least do her best to do right by them in her failure.

Gently, she closed the dead man's eyes and then rose to her feet, her boots clicking on the marbled floors as she made her way down the blood-streaked hallway. She would find the villain responsible for this. She would make it right.

 

[Darkbloom]

Back at the lair, he hung up his suit and slipped into the ready-made bath his butler prepared. Just because the job was easy didn't mean he walked away as clean as a whistle. No, after that slaughter he very much needed a bath. Slowly rubbing the stench off himself with soap, the news was reporting about his recent target. "Took them long enough. News people are getting lazy recently." Several feet away his phone was vibrating. He shrugged, being too far away to answer it anyhow.

After the long bath, he changes into a night robe, completely black. It was simply the best color. One had to keep up with the theme of his or her powers, his being darkness manipulation. It made sense for every possession of his to be covered in black. "Reggie!" He called for the butler, who promptly appeared before him with a bow. "How may I help you, sir?" The butler replied in his British accent. "I'm tired. Sort the mail and burn the unimportant ones. I'll look at the others tomorrow." The villain headed off to bed as Reggie bowed behind him. "It will be done, sir. Rest easy."

 

[Vinegar Bees]

She frowned, squinting at the grainy CCTV footage on one of the screens in the building's surveillance room. The cameras had all been wrecked when the intruder had made his way into the building, of course, but she was hoping that maybe she could catch a glimpse of something useful before the feed was cut. And indeed, as she carefully watched a frame-by-frame replay of the footage, she could see a dark figure clad in a shadowy hood enter the frame, and then all at once the lights went out before the camera cut to static.

Her frown deepened. It was only a glimpse, but she could recognize the top villain in the city. If that was all he was, of course, she would have no problems with hunting him down and bringing him to justice. Her heart sank, though, as she watched the grainy static play out on the screen. She knew, of course, that he was someone else—or rather, had been someone else. Did he even remember himself? If he saw her now, would he even recognize her?

All of a sudden, she felt something cold against the back of her head, heard a sharp click.

"Don't move," a male voice said firmly.

For a second, her heart lurched, but she quickly collected herself. Whirling around, she lashed out at her attacker with a high kick, stunning him; while he was struggling to recover, she twisted his arm behind his back until he cried out in pain and dropped his gun. With another swift kick, she sent the weapon skittering across the floor.

Then she released the young man in the police uniform.

"Wait," she called as he began to make a move towards his gun. "I wouldn't. I don't want to hurt you."

"Sure," the cop said wryly. "Just like you didn't want to hurt any of those dead guys outside, huh?"

"No. That wasn't me," she said steadily. Moving slowly and carefully, she pressed a button to replay the CCTV footage so that the cop could see for himself.

"Dammit. I should have known it was him," the cop sighed. "What about you, then? Who the hell are you?"

"I'm nobody," she murmured.

The cop raised an eyebrow. "Right. Well, you aren't dressed like a cop or a civilian, and no civilian in their right mind would wander into a crime scene like this, anyway, so I'm guessing you're a metahuman. But you certainly aren't dressed like a hero."

She glanced down at her plain black bodysuit. That much was true, but she had her reasons. For most heroes, branding their identities was part of the deal. They dressed in bright colors and easily-recognizable patterns as a way to build up an image for themselves. She didn't want to be seen. Not in the way most heroes did.

"Maybe not, but if I was a villain, I'd try to look more intimidating," she said. "Add some spiky shoulderpads or something like that."

The cop hesitated.

"Look, you don't have to believe me," she said. "All you have to know is that I'm going to find the villain who did this and bring him to justice."

The cop's eyebrows shot up. "Seriously? You think you can take him out? He's basically wiped out the city's whole police force right now. His body count is higher than our yearly budget. No one can take him out."

She did not respond, instead merely staring the cop down with grim determination.

The cop sighed. "Well, Miss Nobody, it looks like there's no stopping you. But if you insist on finding this guy, well, it's your funeral."

Miss Nobody? It wasn't exactly a normal alias for a hero, but she wasn't exactly a normal hero. She needed an alias, after all.

She softened. "There are worse things than being dead."

 

[Darkbloom]

The next day he was lounging around, contemplating what the boss would tell him to steal. Maybe a good ole thrilling hero hunt. Nah, that's what he wanted to assign himself. He doesn't have that power yet. Work for himself and his own goals and desires. One of the many reasons to become the top villain in the world.

After shooting a few rounds of eight ball, his phone vibrates on the counter. "This had better be good..." He mumbles under his breath, swearing vengeance upon the sender if it isn't a worthwhile mission.

Upon opening the phone and reading the text, his eyes alight with glee. As requested, you have stronger heroes to kill. Go to the scene and kill as you please. This was the same typical description he received on every text. Throwing on his suit, he walked out of his lair and headed toward the location. He didn't need anyone to tell him that the event planned by the villains was going to attract no small number of strong heroes.