My Dear Supervillain

This would surely be the end of mankind.

The giant battle robot loomed over the capitol city, red eyes gleaming, lasers ready to fire. The smoldering remains of the military were strewn about its feet. Flames rose from every street, reminders of past battles that the people hadn’t won. After the carnage, only the mechanized monster stood tall… And at the top of it all was Dr. Vorpial, laughing like a madman.

“At last,” Dr. Vorpial cackled, “At last! The world is finally mine!”

A pale hand grasped his. He looked down in shock to see a beautiful, busty woman with full lips and tight clothes. “Oh, Daddy… how could you?” A heart-stricken tear cascaded down her rosy cheek… and Dr. Vorpial hit her across the face!

“Don’t try to stop me, Amaryllis! This is my moment of glory!” He turned away from her to oversee the doom he was unleashing. With eyes full of tears, Amaryllis pulled out her laser and aimed it at her mad father. Her fingers tightened on the trigger…

“LEO! Lunch is on fire!”

Leo dropped the comic book. Amaryllis and her laser got smooshed under two hundred pages of action-packed comic book garbage. He jumped to his feet and bounded into the kitchen, grabbing the fire extinguisher on his way. A tall man in loose silk clothes stood over the counter with his back turned, wreathed in smoke. “How’d you set salad on fire?!” Leo demanded. The man only chuckled darkly. “Er… Ranvir?”

Ranvir couldn’t take it. He burst into peels of laughter. “Ahahahaha! Oh, Leo… you have much to learn!” Ranvir spun to face Leo, carrying the burning dish.

It was just a plate of incense.

“Your uncooked salad is on the table,” Ranvir announced with a devious smirk. “You should have noticed it on your way over here.”

Leo almost dropped the fire extinguisher. Fire as a prank?! “You rat bastard, Ranvir! Don’t scare me like—” With uncanny precision, Ranvir flicked a cherry tomato into Leo’s open mouth. Poor Leo bit down angrily and sucked the juice from the offending tomato. Ranvir only laughed, stroked his goatee and ruffled Leo’s dusty blonde hair. “Sadistic prick,” Leo garbled halfheartedly. “Hate you.” His voice, in contrast with his appearance, was deep and smooth. He had a faint trace of an Australian accent.

Ranvir always messed with him like this. He liked messing with people, and he was very good at it— but with Leo, he had an excuse. The young man was too easily tricked, and he reacted slowly; these were dangerous traits for a hero’s sidekick, and Ranvir was determined to fix those problems. Perhaps his methods were a bit cruel, but…

“I’ve got some stuff to take care of,” Ranvir said lightly. Leo froze with his hand reaching halfway into the bowl of tomatoes. “Nothing dangerous. Relax. I’ll only ask people for information.” Leo didn’t move. His brown eyes were fixed on Ranvir’s. The simple fact that Ranvir wasn’t laughing didn’t bode well. “Relax, Leo. Please.”

“You’re going after Nightshade again,” Leo said quietly.

Ranvir regarded his sidekick thoughtfully. “What makes you think that?”

“You’re not laughing.” Ranvir conceded defeat.

“No, I’m not. Nightshade is no laughing matter.” Leo swallowed his tomato, but he couldn’t swallow his worry. Ranvir was right about Nightshade. She was as elusive as the shadows she controlled, and dangerous. She had seven confirmed kills, and six more that hadn’t been traced to her, but everyone knew who’d done it. Who else could reach into your body and squeeze the life out of every cell? A blurry photo of a dark shape was all they’d gotten of her.

“I’ll go with you,” Leo offered.

“You have work in two hours.” Leo cursed vividly and took another tomato from his hero. His job at Gwendy’s always got in the way. For the sidekick of the greatest superhero in Antiopolis, he never saw much action. “Seeya later, Leo.” With a kiss to his sidekick’s scruffy cheek, the superhero vanished.

“Once again, Antiopolis has been saved by the Sparkle-chan girls! Any words for the public, Princess Sapphire Sparkle Sakura-chan?” The smiling news reporter turned the microphone to the superheroes at his side. They were all, tall skinny, with massive breasts and costumes similar to cheerleading uniforms. Their leader, bustiest of all, tossed her golden hair and laughed like a bell.

“It's Princess Sapphire Sakura Sparkle-chan,” the buxom leader told the news reporter before seizing his microphone. “We couldn't have done it without the gracious financial support of our fans! They're the real heroes!” Princess blew a kiss into the microphone. The crowd surrounding them awwed and cooed. “By the way, we're doing a concert at Chamomile Hall at five o'clock tomorrow evening! When we Sparkle-chans aren't saving your city, we're saving you from boredom!” She winked. Glitter rained from her immense eyelashes.

The other four Sparkle-chans twirled their very revealing skirts and sang, “We can't wait to perform for you!”

Princess laughed her twinkly, melodic laugh. “Don't forget, this could be your last chance to see us perform, unless some brave hero can stop the Hallas Asteroid collision in November!”

The news reporter smiled brightly. “I look forward to it. Now it's on to Gary with the weather! Take it away, Ga—”

CLICK. The TV screen went black.

“I was watching that,” John growled. The young Asian woman beside him on the couch handed him the remote.

“I’m sick of seeing superheroes whore themselves out on the news,” she said. She pulled her long black hair out of her face, exposing her slanted black eyes. “Can we do something else?”

John clicked the TV back on. “After the weather.” The woman sighed, stood, walked away. “Hey.” She paused. “Goin’ somewhere, Ronnie?” There was an unspoken threat in his tone.

The woman took a calming breath and faced him. “I’m just thirsty. Want anything?” He shrugged and waved her off. With a sigh of relief, Ronnie fled to the kitchen and fell against the fridge. What was it about him that made her so nervous? He’d hit her a few times, yelled at her a lot, but that was no excuse. She had the power to kill him in a second, and she let him walk all over her…

The shadows shifted at Ron’s feet. Most people wouldn’t notice, but she jumped to her feet in alarm. “No,” she whispered. “I won’t hurt him. I love him. He loves me.” The shadows raised themselves from the floor, coiling up and forming shapes like angry cobras. “He loves me,” Ron said firmly. She forced the shadows back into their place on the floor, but it didn’t stop her from shaking and sweating. “He loves me, and I love him. We’ve just hit a rough spot in our relationship, that’s all.”

“Oi, Ronnie! Who’re ya talkin’ to in there?”

“Myself,” Ron called back. It was the truth.

She poured a glass of water and stared into it. I’ve been too submissive lately, she told herself. She was Ladrona Mallow, the supervillain Nightshade; she shouldn’t let anyone dominate her. Especially not John.

“I’m going to class,” Ron called. Class didn’t start for a couple more hours, but she wanted to get out of that house for a while. She seized her purse and books and made for the door, but John’s glare seemed to freeze her in place.

“Why do you bother?”

“… Sorry?”

“Going to class,” John sneered. “You got the brains for university, but you don’t got the balls to be a real lawyer.”

Balls? Ron had balls. She also had shadows that wanted to rip John into bite-sized pieces and — “I’ll be back around eight tonight,” Ron said quickly. She fled the apartment.

Ranvir Radovan usually spent his time fighting crime in full dramatic costume. A typical balanced breakfast for him consisted of pancakes, orange juice, and a few would-be purse thieves. His usual lunch was coffee and a press conference about his heroic endeavors. His dinners were cheap homemade casseroles with Leo.

Thus, it was quite out of the ordinary for him to stand out on a university campus in broad daylight, dressed like a normal civilian, handing out photos of the supervillain Nightshade and asking for any information that might lead to her capture. “Seen this woman?” he asked a passing instructor as he held out a photo. The picture was blurry; all that could be discerned was a shadow in front of the moon. “She’s a supervillain calling herself Nightshade. She’s been sighted in this area.”

The instructor glared thoughtfully at Ranvir and disregarded the photo completely. “Ain’t seen no Nightshade,” he said waspishly. “And I wouldn’t tell no superhero like you if I did. No sir, Mr. Mystic! You’d beat her up n’ make some bullcrap speech about the greater good, just so you can sell action figures o’ yourself.” Ranvir quietly ground his pearly white teeth. His face was a famous one, and his ‘Mystic’ hero disguise did little to hide his identity. Everywhere he went, no matter what he wore, people recognized that he was a superhero.

“Well,” Ranvir said quietly, “If you hear anything, call the cops, not me.”

“Why not call you instead? Don’tcha care about glory, Mr. Superhero?” The man said it like an insult.

Ranvir's heart sank. If only people still had faith in heroes… “If I only cared about glory, I would’ve been an actor instead. Sir, this villain isn’t just a loiterer or purse-snatcher; she’s a serial killer. Do you really want this person walking free?” The professor only rolled his eyes, harrumphed and walked away. Ranvir didn’t like to dwell on things like this, but the man’s words bothered him. People weren’t just losing faith in superheroes. This man recognized him and asked for his phone number; it was probably a coincidence, but asking for a superhero’s number was like asking for his name. An unmasked hero was usually as good as dead. ‘Mystic’ took comfort in the fact that, although civilians recognized him as Mystic, they had yet to learn his name.

A young Asian woman emerged from the door to Ranvir’s left, laughing at something her plump companion said. Ranvir held up the photo to her and distractedly asked, “Nightshade?”

The Asian woman froze like a deer in headlights. Her eyes flashed onto Ranvir's dark eyes, his slick goatee, his trong cheekbones… “Mystic,” Ron whispered. “Oh, no… no, no, NO—!”

She dropped her books and ran.

“Ronnie, where are you going?!” Ron's friend called, but she was already gone.

Very suspicious, Ranvir observed. Deciding that his cover was blown, he stepped lightly into the air and flew after the woman.

Ron sped across the crowded campus to her car and waved her microchip hand in front of the scanner. “Welcome back, Ladrona,” the car greeted her. The lock clicked open and Ron leapt into her seat, allowing her seatbelt to snap over her. Her hands were unbearably sweaty. “Please state your destination.”

“Home,” Ron panted firmly.

“Destination ‘Home’ accepted. Enjoy the ride,” the car cheerfully instructed. Ron tossed her purse into the passenger seat and scanned the skies above for any sign of Mystic. How did he know my secret identity?! I’ve been so careful! I’ve used every trick in the book and a few of my own! The seatbelt finally locked in, and the car lurched onto the highway. Ron worried that the stress would make her puke; adrenaline rushes always made her nauseous.

She checked her mirrors. The superhero was nowhere to be seen, but that did nothing to ease Ron’s fear. Surely Mystic was still in pursuit. She was a high-profile villain, and few heroes could resist the fan-luring thrill of a car chase. The anxiety made her tremble. How did he know?! Did I change disguise in front of a security camera? Did someone witness my crimes? The car weaved through traffic, passed block after block of colorful shops, turned on exit 177. There was still no sign of pursuit.

Ron began to calm down, just a little bit. If Mystic wanted a chase, he’d given her a huge head start. Still, him saying “Nightshade” to her face couldn’t be a coincidence. Would the police be waiting at her apartment with cuffs in one hand and guns in the other?

The supervillain was so busy watching the skies, she didn’t notice the dull blue van that followed her. Ranvir sat behind the wheel, drumming his fingers to the lively beat on the radio but watching Ron intently. He never cared for dramatic chases, as much as hero fans loved them; they put civilians at risk. It was much better to catch a villain without warning, without giving them a chance to fight, after taking a few minutes to decide whether or not they were worth the trouble at all.

When Ron pulled into a small apartment complex, Ranvir threw on his white cape and turban. He pulled his sheathed sword from the back of the van and stuck it on his belt loop. He wouldn’t have time to change out of his shirt and pants, but silk slacks and a white blouse weren’t too distinctive. He noted where his target had parked and drove to the end of the street instead of stopping right next to her. He wasn’t in the mood for a fight; especially if this woman was the villain he thought she was

Ron was silent and stone-faced as she got out of her car. What if it really was a coincidence? She didn’t want to worry John. What if Mystic's onto me? She still couldn’t tell John. She couldn’t endanger him with her secret.

John was worth protecting, despite his violent tendencies.

So was everyone she’d ever killed…

Down, down the plastic staircase, to the cold apartment. Over the holographic welcome mat. Ron waved her microchip arm in front of the lock scanner, and said clearly, “Ladrona has arrived.”

The lock crackled a cheerful, “Welcome home, Ladrona!” and with a click, the door retracted into the ceiling. Ron stepped cautiously over the threshold, taking one last furtive glance over her shoulder. Piles of boxes lined the apartment walls. The smell of smoke and alcohol hung in the air. The dark walls seemed to sag inward. John must’ve been away or asleep, because the motion-sensitive lights were all off. Ron waved her hands, and the lights flickered on. Home suddenly felt like home again.

Ron almost laughed in relief. Mystic still hadn’t soared in with his sword drawn and brought her to justice. She’d worried needlessly.

What to do now…? Ron groaned, recalling that she’d dropped her books when she ran from Mystic. She couldn’t study now. Hopefully, some kind soul would bring her books to the office instead of taking them. Perhaps watching some television would calm her nerves. Ron all but collapsed onto the tattered couch, seized the remote, and turned on the power.

Mystic stood outside on the plastic welcome mat, contemplating, as was his norm. He heard voices buzzing in the apartment and knew the suspicious woman was watching the news. If she really was the shadow-wielding supervillain Nightshade, he should’ve just noted her address and returned with his sidekick, perhaps with a few other reinforcements as well; but it would be a humiliating waste of time for everyone if she was just a hero-phobic citizen. As the weather came on, Mystic finally made up his mind. She must be a hero-phobic citizen. Nightshade wouldn't run in terror from me. Ranvir turned to fly away.

“HEY!”

Mystic gasped and grasped his sword, but the yell came from inside the apartment.

Ron’s body tensed, but she showed no other sign that she’s heard a thing.

John staggered into the living room. He held an empty bottle in one hand and an envelope in the other. His eyebrows were knotted, as were his fists, and he stank of unwashed smoker. Ron put on her bright, cheery face. “Ah, you really are here!” she trilled. She wasn’t happy to see him. She could tell just by the way he looked at her that she must have done something wrong again, and he would punish her again. No words came out of her mouth to show her mistrust. She needed him, if only to have someone to hold…

John made his way to her side of the couch. Ron could see his tense muscles and white knuckles. She could smell the booze and smoke on his breath and feel the rage dripping out of his every pore. In spite of it all, she smiled and stood to greet him. “I missed you in class today,” she lied. “And I remembered it’s your birthday on Saturday, but I thought I’d treat you to dinner tonight as an early—”

John punched her square in the face. Hard knuckles ground against the flesh of her cheek. Ron fell onto the couch with a sharp cry of pain, but she didn’t fight back. She could never fight back, not against John.

Leaning against the front door, Mystic held tightly to the hilt of his sword and listened intently. If the woman were really a supervillain, surely she would fight back against him! Part of him wanted to break the door down and drag the guy to the police station, but a greater part of him knew he had to wait and see how this all played out…

“Treat me to dinner?!” John barked harshly. “With what money, Ronnie?”

“I have a job,” Ron slurred, with a hand to her aching cheek. It felt as if a couple teeth had been knocked loose.

John waved his envelope in her face. “That’s not what your unemployment check said.” Ron sputtered in denial; he wouldn't have it. He seized her by the shoulders and shook her, yelling, “Stop lyin’ to me! You only get four thousand credits a month, but we been spendin' six thousand a week! Where’d the money come from?!”

As the room wavered around her, Ron felt the darkness stir within; it was a boiling rage, waiting to consume any threat, which John had suddenly become. She felt her shadow moving behind her, trying to cover her body in its protective embrace; it wanted to wring the life from John’s body, but Ron resisted. I can’t hurt John! I will never hurt John!

“I sold my jewelry!” Ron cried over the shaking. It wasn’t entirely a lie. She’d sold all her valuable jewelry to supplement what she stole from banks and people who didn’t guard their wallets. John didn’t buy it at all.

“Still lyin’ to me,” he growled. “Always lyin’ to me! Dammit! Why don’t you trust me, Ronnie?!” He slammed her into the door. Her elbow bumped the ‘open’ button. Mystic flew onto the roof just in time to avoid the woman falling where he’d stood. Neither John nor the supervillain looked up to see him. Ron was too busy staring into the enraged eyes of John, who blocked the doorway like a cement wall with anger issues.

“And stay out,” John commanded. The door slammed shut and locked with a beep.

Ron sat up shaking like a leaf. Rage, sadness, fear; they were all at war within her mind. She wanted to scream, she wanted to run back into John’s arms and apologize, she wanted to tear him limb from limb; but she wanted to survive more than anything else. She held it all in, from the tears that tried to escape her eyes to the dark powers stirring at her feet. Reason would always be her master. Reason and logic.

She knocked softly at the apartment door.

“John,” she called softly, “I need my purse.”

The TV volume suddenly got a lot louder.

“Alright… You can keep it.” She couldn’t stop her voice from wavering.

She didn’t want to think, but she had to. No money, no roof over her head? She had the car, but she didn’t have the money to park it overnight in the city. Things will work out, she told herself sternly. You’re not some lost child or abandoned puppy. You’re a supervillain! You can conquer this! She took a deep breath and stumbled away from the apartment.

Mystic had heard enough. He silently hovered down to the ground and fell in step behind the distraught woman.

“Assault and theft.”

Ron made a sound similar to a mouse being stepped on and whirled to face the intruder. Mystic stood but a few feet away, sword sheathed, hands in his pockets. His posture wasn’t offensive, but his presence certainly was. “Assault and theft,” he repeated. “He hit you and he wouldn’t let you take your own money with you. You should press charges against him.”

“Why are you here?” Ron hissed. Unbeknownst to Mystic, her shadow was getting shorter. It crept up her shoes, slowly transforming her into Nightshade.

“It’s sort of embarrassing,” Mystic laughed quietly. He didn’t look the least bit embarrassed. “I made a hasty mistake. I thought you were a supervillain called Nightshade…” He turned away from her enraged gaze. He was so busy averting his eyes in shame that he didn’t notice the shadows enveloping her entire body. “But you can’t be her. No supervillain would let that guy abuse her like that…”

A black shape in the form on a hand reared into the air behind Nightshade. Mystic turned back just in time to see the darkness descend. Snap! He was torn from the ground before he could even reach his sword, and claw-like fingers of solid shadow dug into his side. The woman seemed to be silhouetted against the sunny sky, her body black, her eyes white and glowing. The shadows licked her form like flames.

“He loves me,” Nightshade snarled. Her words sounded guttural and strange in her own ears. Who am I trying to convince— Mystic or myself? “He loves me, and I love him, so mind your own business!” Her giant shadowy fingers tightened painfully on Mystic, but the hand trembled. Its fingers opened. Mystic fell lightly on his feet and drew his sword with haste.

A dry sob fled the supervillain’s throat. “He loves me,” she said coldly.

“Things aren’t always as we envision them,” Mystic told her. His blade was pointed towards her, but she made no move against him. “I thought I wouldn’t have to fight today, for example.” The supervillain silently glared at him. Small smoke-like wafts of darkness emitted from her feet, as if she were on fire. “Let’s not make this any harder than it has to be. Come with me to the station, and we’ll—” Shadowy tendrils caught Mystic by the legs and hurled him across the street. With plenty of dramatic flair, the superhero flipped midair and stopped in place, hovering most impressively with his robe billowing around him. The effect was wasted on Nightshade, as nobody was around to witness this.

With a grimace masked by his costume, Mystic held his blade ready. He really didn’t want to fight— partially because Nightshade was in such an unfortunate situation, and mostly because he didn’t stand a chance. His sword could kill anything that bled, but the villain’s shadows would keep his blade far from anything vulnerable.

Nightshade seemed caught between fight and flight. Her shadow claws stood ready; her eyes were overflowing with tears. “Why, Mystic? Why can’t you go do heroic things, like getting cats out of trees and putting out fires, instead of haunting my steps?!” Nightshade shouted. The air around her dimmed and obscured what little could still be seen of her form. “I only want peace and quiet! Argh! I just want to take a bath and a long nap! I haven’t even had lunch yet, and you want me to go to prison?!” Mystic landed but kept his sword pointed at the villain. Although the air was darker around her, the shadows covering her body seemed to tatter and fade like old cloth. Bits and pieces of her dull gray clothes could be seen below the swirling darkness. “I need a break,” Nightshade choked. “I can’t do this anymore. I’ve been trying so hard to be a good person, a good girlfriend, but everything just gets worse and worse, and I— I—”

The shadows vanished in a whirl. Ladrona stood shivering and shaking on the sidewalk, in all her boring glory. There was only one patch of darkness on her now: the bruise on her tear-stained cheek.

“You really don’t want to fight, do you?” Mystic asked cautiously. He didn’t drop his guard.

“What’s the point?” Ron laughed bitterly. “If I beat you up, you’d tell the authorities and all your little superhero friends where I live. I could just kill you, but that would be wrong.” It didn’t show on his face, but Mystic was bewildered. How can someone with that attitude be a serial killer? “You might as well fly away and sing my home address to the whole city… If I can still call this dump home.”

Mystic took a cautious step towards her. “I could do that, but it would be better if you turned yourself in without a useless struggle. There’s no need to involve the police.” He had to think. He’d left his cell phone in the van, so he couldn’t call for backup without Nightshade knowing. What would convince her to come quietly? Aha. “At the very least, they’ll put some sort of roof over your head and some sort of slop in your belly.”

“Why would I want slop?!”

“It’s got a bit more nutritional value than oxygen, which is all you can afford now. Prison can’t be that bad. Just don’t drop your soap and you’ll be fine.” Ron stared at him in enraged disbelief. He has no idea what prison is really like! This whole thing was pissing her off. She was chased by a hero, hit by John, kicked out of her apartment without any money, and now this flying failure of fashion expected her to turn herself in? Thanks, but no thanks! I have classes to attend and banks to rob!

Sword still in hand, Mystic offered his empty hand to her. “Somebody had to bring you to justice some day. Turning yourself in would be the first step towards redemption.” Ron appeared hesitant, but now it was all an act. Mystic would suffer for butting in and learning her address. She would stab his golden heart the moment his guard dropped, and steal his wallet too.

“I can’t go to jail,” Ron persisted, “I just can’t! How can I patch up my relationship in a cell? Who’ll take care of the baby when John’s at work?” There was no baby, of course, but Mystic didn’t need to know that. The caped hero paused. Ron had to fight hard not to smirk. “And what’ll my sister do? I was supposed to take care of her cats when she goes on vacation!”

“They’ll think of something. Come along.” With a dejected sigh, Ron accepted his sturdy hand. It was all sweaty— ick! Mystic smiled brightly beneath his mask and led the villain down the road, sword still in hand. Now there were people on the streets, and they showed plenty of interest in the hero and his captive. Ron could only hope nobody she knew saw this.

The silence was awkward, but Ron refused to break it. She had to look nervous, or he would expect her to attempt escape. She made sure to tremble her pale hand in his and keep her expression weary.

The city was gray and dull in the hazy daylight. Even the sky was colorless. The slightest breeze might make the world light up again, but the smoke and stench of hundreds of years of industry hung over the city as if determined to ruin Ron’s day. The duo meandered through a few blocks. Mystic stuck out like a sore thumb and people stared at him as such.

“… So, how did you get your powers?” Mystic asked Ron conversationally.

Ron did not want to speak at all.

“You seem about the right age to be an SPRC 3^rd generation superhuman. Did you grandparents work for—”

“Yes,” Ron snarled. “My great grandparents worked for the Super Power Research Center.” At least, that’s what she assumed. The SPRC had once dedicated itself to discovering and harnessing the sources of various super powers. Their work was top secret, but it soon became clear that they were using human test subjects, as thousands of new superheroes suddenly appeared. Even after the SPRC shut down, more and more superhumans came into existence, possibly because the powers were passed through generations. To the best of Ron's knowledge, her parents didn’t have any powers at all; but Ron never got to know her parents… “There’s nothing special about that. Just about every super power out there came from SPRC.”

“But that doesn’t explain it all,” Mystic persisted. “Most 1^st generation superhumans only got minor alterations like gills or x-ray vision, and the 2^nd generation is almost useless. Your powers are—”

“You can put the sword away.” It was an abrupt change of subject, but Ron really didn’t have anything to say about it. She had powers, she didn't want to question why. “I already surrendered.”

Ranvir smirked knowingly at her. “I would put the sword away, but then you'd stab my golden heart and steal my wallet.” Ron’s poker face slipped for a second and she cursed colorfully. Mystic's smirk became a glare. He had piercing eyes that made you wonder if he could see through you— and for all Ron knew, perhaps he could.

She kicked a little rock out of the way and wrenched her hand out of Mystic’s grip. His sword was instantly pressed against her nose. Several passerby stopped what they were doing to stare. “You should have more faith in people!” Ron complained as she stared, cross-eyed, at the tip of the blade.

Ranvir's grip on the sword didn't waver. “I have plenty of faith in people. I’d be treating you a lot better if you weren’t a serial killer.” Ron couldn’t deny the wisdom in that. She raised her hands in surrender, and found herself sighing in relief as he lowered his weapon.

More and more people had stopped to stare and whisper.

“I don’t get it, is he taking her hostage?”

“No, she’s obviously a villain!”

“That pretty little thing? No way! What if Mystic’s gone bad?”

Ron wasn’t acting anymore. Now she was genuinely worried. Escape would be hard enough without all these people watching. People everywhere! She had to get away from Mystic, quickly, but she couldn’t risk giving away her identity by changing into Nightshade with all these inquisitive eyes on her!

Mystic gave Ron a meaningful glare. “Let’s fly instead. We’ll get there faster that way.” He put an arm around her waist as if he wanted to dance. Ron barely managed to shake the temptation to punch him with a giant shadow fist. She closed her eyes tightly as the ground lurched under her. This was bad, this was very bad! Cold wind rushed in her ears. How high up are we? Ron opened her eyes, looked down…

… and screamed. She latched her arms around Mystic like a bear trap and clung for dear life.

She thought they’d only hover above the crowd a bit, but he’d taken her higher than the West Tower! The ground was a blurry mass below her, broken only by the dangerous-looking spires that most modern buildings had. Her fear of heights didn’t make the view any more enjoyable. “Put me down! Now!” Ron wailed. The shadows began to form on her feet. In her current state of terror, she didn’t think twice about becoming Nightshade.

Mystic couldn’t help himself. “What?” he yelled over the wind. “Barrel rolls and nosedives? If you insist!”

Two violent minutes later, a bruised and bloody Mystic was tied to the lightning rod of the West Tower by a shadow. His broken sword was lodged in the cement beside him. Ron whistled a happy tune as she dug through his pockets to find Mystic's wallet. “Where do you keep your credits? Don't tell me they're on the inside.” He whimpered as she gave him a harsh wedgie and noticed that the hero's name was written on his underwear label. “Ranvir R. Radovan? What an unfortunate name! What were your parents thinking?”

Ranvir kicked and struggled in vain. “If you breath a syllable of my name, I’ll…!” Ron tossed her long black hair and giggled brightly. Her girlish laugh wasn’t suited for a supervillain of her caliber.

“Let me tell you how this’ll work, Ranvir. We each know something that could destroy the other. I’m gonna go one direction and you’re gonna fly in another. If any authorities or other superheroes learn my address, every major news station will learn your name.” Ranvir didn’t argue. She’d bested him on all accounts. She wouldn’t keep her end of the deal, of course she wouldn’t. The news media would eat his name like candy and vomit it all over the world. This would be the end of Mystic. He’d have to leave Earth and change his name, or face the wrath of every villain he ever busted that got out of jail… He would never be safe again. Ron leered at him, relishing in his despair. “Don’t look so glum, Mr. Radovan. Somebody had to bring you to justice some day. It might as well be me.”

Ranvir spat at her feet. “You’re dead, Nightshade.” He would sing her address from the rooftops, just as she suggested! She only threw back her head and laughed.

“Oho! A threat, from the drowned rat at my feet? I thought you were better than that, Mystic!” She noticed then that he had a pocket built into his pale cape. With a laugh of triumph, she took his wallet and raided every last credit inside. She tossed the empty wallet on top of his broken sword. “You feel those bruises, don’t you? Just be glad you’re alive after that horrible stunt! Have a nice day, Ranvir Radovan… and an interesting life.”

Nightshade turned to the ledge. So high! Her foot pulled away, but she forced herself to step off the building. The shadows suspended her in the air and let her glide safely to the street below.

Ranvir’s shadows released him as soon as she vanished. He dashed to the edge, looking frantically for any sign of her, but she’d already vanished into the crowded streets below.

His feet suddenly felt as if they were made of lead. He stumbled over to his broken sword and tried to sheath it, but it was dented and damaged beyond repair. His reflection in its shiny metal showed bruises and a large cut on his forehead. How could I let her beat me like that? He threw the useless blade into the corner and collapsed against the sharp point at the peak of the building. She knows my name. It was over. It was all over… What am I going to tell Leo?

The beds at the shelter for battered women weren’t very comfortable, and Ron missed having John’s warmth at her side, but she could feel the bruise on her cheek getting darker. “Maybe…” The words came out thick and resentful from her throat. “Maybe John would be better off without me.” She looked down at the bed she laid in; an unfamiliar bed with tattered blankets in a small, empty room. The sounds of a crying baby came from the room to her left; a crying woman on her right. “Maybe I would be better off without John,” Ron confessed to herself.

When Ron met John, she thought he’d be different, that he would accept the problems that followed her like a second shadow, just as she accepted John. She could accept that he drank and gambled, and that he couldn’t be satisfied by only one woman. She accepted that being with him meant she would occasionally wear longer sleeves to hide the bruises. But now she knew John couldn’t accept her being a thief, and thievery was the least of her crimes. That one little fact meant they were simply incompatible.

I’ll end this tomorrow.

I’ll persevere.

I have to.

“Leo, I’m home!” Ranvir hung his cape and turban on the rack by the door and stepped into the spacious living room. The room— no, the entire house— was handsomely polished, except for the heap of comic books and candy wrappers beside the couch. And on the couch was Leo, snoring obnoxiously with his head stuck between the cushions.

The sight of Leo like this almost got Ranvir out of his bad mood. Almost. Ranvir strolled languidly to the couch and opened a comic book. “Zombies, Babes and Bazookas? You’re not as gay as you claim to be.” Ranvir dropped the book and picked up a much thicker collection. This one would do the trick nicely… “WAKE UP!” Ranvir spanked Leo’s exposed rump with the book.

Leo made a funny squawk and plucked his head out of the cushions. Ranvir actually laughed at the dazed look in his eyes and the stubble on his slack jaw. “You’re home early,” Leo said dumbly. Ranvir fixed an amused glare upon Leo, the kind that usually made villains run in terror.

“I’m four hours late.” Leo only stared at him blankly. “How about we have Chinese for dinner?”

“Four—?” Leo’s eyes drifted to the clock, and he jumped to his feet, all traces of exhaustion gone. “Aw craaaap, I’m late for work!” He reached for his sneakers, but Ranvir caught his hand.

“Call in sick,” the superhero whispered, giving Leo a nip on the ear and eliciting a blush from the blond. “I’m taking you out on a date. How about Chinese and a long flight over the park?”

How could Leo refuse?

The natural shadows of evening crept over Antiopolis. There was no orange twilight glow this evening, only rain and a bitter breeze that cut into Ron’s bones. She stood atop the apartment roof, wreathed in the shadows of Nightshade, dripping wet and thoroughly depressed about what she was about to do.

“Maybe he’ll be sober,” Nightshade told herself optimistically. She didn’t have very high hopes.

She peeked inside their bedroom window and listened intently. The TV was on in the living room. The coast was clear. With practiced precision, Nightshade sent a shadow through the window glass and opened the window from indoors. She crawled in with caution, trying not to knock over all the little glass animals she’d collected over the years. She noted to herself that she ought to keep her collection somewhere other than the window, in case she ever needed to break into her own home again. Quiet as a mouse, she packed a suitcase with clothes and all her important legal documents.

Her disguise faded. It had to be Ladrona, not Nightshade, to tell John their relationship was over.

The door squeaked open just as Ron grabbed her coat. John swayed in the doorway, wearing the same clothes he’d worn when he threw her out yesterday afternoon. He hiccoughed slightly while she gathered up her courage.

“Ah, yer back. Keep packin' that bag, Ronnie,” John commanded gruffly. “We’re going to the Mars colony.”

“Mars?” Ron pulled on her coat and watched John with wary eyes. Something wasn't right. He was too calm, especially considering that she's snuck in through a window. “Has something happened, John?”

“Cops came lookin’ for ya.” Ron cursed in her mind. That Mystic bastard! I’ll stick his name on billboards for this! “Only, they didn’t ask for Ladrona, or even Ron… They wanted some supervillain called Nightshade! A murderin' bitch of a supervillain!” John suddenly erupted in rage. He flung Ron’s bookshelf and glass animals at her, and they hit the wall as she jumped to the side. Ron’s courage failed her; she withdrew to the corner of the room and watched as lamps and windows and anything John could reach suffered his wrath. She’d never seen him this upset before, and it terrified her. “That’s where the money came from, huh?” John turned his burning eyes back on her, and she shrank in her own skin. “You’ve been stealin’, murderin’, leechin’ off society like… like… Rrrrgh!”

He seized her by the throat.

“J-John, CALM DOWN!” Ron pried his hands off and stumbled back. The shadows stirred, seethed, and Ron knew they were eager to tear John apart in her defense. The man noticed. He fell back a step, but the rage within was still evident. He loves me, he really does, Ron tried to think. She knew it wasn’t true. The overhead lights began to flicker. The little lights of powered-down electronics seemed to dim. Every shadow on John’s features turned red and made him look less human, more like some rabid animal. “We need to talk,” Ron said.

“There’ll be time for that at the TelePort!” He tore his eyes off the shadows writhing like snakes at Ron’s feet. “I’m not goin’ to jail for harborin’ criminals! We’re leavin’ NOW!” He grabbed her by the wrist and tugged her away. This time, Ron wasn’t going to just stand there and take it.

“I’m not going with you!” she snapped, and she tried to tear her arm away from him, but his grip was like iron and he dragged her out the bedroom door. “Let-go-of-me!” She wrenched her arm from his grasp and cracked her head on the corner of the shelf. It hurt more than she anticipated. She fell to the cement floor with a groan of pain.

The world got very blurry for a moment, then it all went black…

Ron wasn’t unconscious. The shadows had taken control.

She could see nothing, but feel everything as if the very air were her fingers. What a cold world it was, but John— this squirming maggot— he was hot, and hotter because he was struggling in a panic. “No,” Ron gasped. Her omnipotent presence filled the room and filled John, choked him, crushed him from the inside and invaded every fiber of his being. “No, stop it, STOP IT!” She couldn’t hear herself over John screaming. He wouldn’t only be hurt. She could feel the life being wrung from his body. “Please…”

There was a sickening crunch and suddenly the room went silent. The shadows sank to the floor like morning fog becoming dew. Ron was aware of her own body, not the entire room. She opened her eyes.

John was lying on the floor beside her, unmoving, in an unnatural position. His skin was a strange purple color and he bled from every pore. His eyes were completely red. Every bone, muscle and blood vein in his body had snapped.

Nightshade had finished her fourteenth murder.

Ladrona leaned over and puked.

One Chinese dinner date later…

“Are you nuts?! You can’t fly over the park without your disguise!” Wind rushed in their ears, but Leo’s voice cut over it easily. He loved flying, loved being in Ranvir’s strong arms, but his boyfriend’s behavior this evening was beginning to scare him. Ranvir knew how badly Leo needed money, yet he’d been pulled away from work? And now his hero was willing to fly in plain sight without masking his secret identity?!

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Ranvir shouted over the wind.

“Yes it does! Let’s walk instead!” Ranvir stopped zipping around and hovered in place, obviously in deep thought. As much as Leo adored Ranvir when he was panting and sweating, maintaining their secret identities were more important! “If you don’t land, Ranvir… I’ll scream.”

That snapped Ranvir out of his thoughts. “You wouldn’t.”

“I will!” Leo took a deep breath… Ranvir dropped like a rock, only levitating at the last second before impact. Leo smirked. His scream was a serious threat. His voice could shatter glass, knock birds from the sky, burst eardrums, crack walls… and flatten large buildings. It was a miracle that he hadn’t deafened himself.

Ranvir released Leo from his grasp with a groan. “Stop smirking, Leonardo Peller! I'd rather not have my head blown off by a banshee wail!”

“So tell me what’s going on! You’ve been acting weird lately, especially tonight. Either you’re dying, or you’re trying to propose to me, or we’re breaking up.” Ranvir frowned at the fountains around them. It wasn’t as serious as Leo said, but he knew his sidekick would take the news hard. Leo took everything hard. “Well?”

“It’s a hard thing to say,” Ranvir confessed. He smoothed his goatee anxiously. Leo recognized this as a bad sign. “No, I’m not breaking up with you! I think. But I can’t stay here any longer.” Leo was still smirking, but the corner of his scruffy lip began to sag. “People recognize me, Leo. I stop for coffee in jeans and a T-shirt and kids ask me for my autograph. Some old geezer at the university accused me of beating people up just to sell action figures.”

“They don’t know your name yet,” Leo insisted. “You don’t have to skip town until the villains start knocking at the door!”

Ranvir couldn’t say it. There was a painful knot in his throat. He couldn’t tell Leo, his boyfriend and sidekick, that a supervillain could blackmailing him with his own name. The hubbub of the park didn’t quite make up for his prolonged silence. He swallowed and found that he couldn’t make a sound.

Leo made an educated guess about the situation and drew back as if he’d been slapped. “Someone knows your name. Who?”

“Nightshade.” He fell onto the bench beside them. A great weight was on his shoulders. He couldn’t stand the look of disgust on Leo’s pretty face, and he was helpless to fix it. “I had her, Leo. I found out where she lives. She even gave up without a fight. It might’ve stayed that way if I hadn’t scared her…” Ranvir glanced up. Leo was still glaring. He dropped his gaze again. “But she completely smashed me when I tried to fly her to the station. And she went through my wallet and learned my name, and… she got away,” he finished lamely. He watched Leo’s expression. There was something cold there that Ranvir had never seen in those eyes before; a bitter, creeping rage.

“That’s it?” Ranvir noted Leo’s trembling fists. It occurred to him that he might have to cover his ears and run. “After all the speeches you made about never giving up or running away, you’re going to skip town?”

“You know how it is. Once one villain learns your name, every other villain and their grandma knows it. Then you can never sleep at night again. How would you like it if the Naked Molerat learned where we lived?” Leo shuddered. The Naked Molerat was a dwarf supervillain who nearly finished off every superhero in Antiopolis with his ability to turn anyone that beheld his naked body into stone. He was currently “quarantine” somewhere off the coast of Hawaii, thanks to Mystic. “Antiopolis is a huge city. Show all those people a mystery like Mystic, and inevitably, they will solve it.”

They lapsed into silence again. Leo watched a teen couple stroll by, arm in arm, sharing a set of headphones and swaying together to the beat of a song. With a dejected sigh, he sat beside Ranvir. His hero was clearly distraught at the idea of leaving Antiopolis and Leo behind. Leo took Ranvir’s hand and gently turned that handsome face so their eyes could meet. “I’ll go with you.” He bent to seal this promise with a kiss, but Ranvir withdrew.

“You can’t come with me.”

“What?! The heck I can’t! Why not?”

“Valerie.”

Leo groaned and rested in his head in his arms, stress written on his features. “She needs you,” Ranvir continued. “So does the city of Antiopolis. You have to take care of it for me.”

“I can’t.” Leo wanted to scream, but he knew better. His throat felt tight, like guitar strings ready to break. “I’m your sidekick,” he whined helplessly. Ranvir gathered Leo into his arms and pressed a kiss to the blonde’s forehead. “I can’t do this! I’m not a hero like you, I can’t fight alone!” He threw his arms around Mystic and fought back tears. He didn’t want to cry and hurt Ranvir, hurt his hero.

“You can’t be a sidekick your whole life,” Ranvir whispered in Leo’s ear. “You can’t be a fry cook your whole life either. Don’t spend your golden years in my shadow, love. I know you’ll be a great hero some day.”

“I’m not a hero!” Leo ignored the childish tear his cheek. “My powers are useless in a fight, except for stunning somebody! If I yell loud enough to cause damage, I damage the streets more than I damage a villain! I just can’t fight alone!”

Ranvir ruffled Leo's hair. “That’s why you carry a weapon, like any intelligent ally of justice.”

Leo smacked his hand away. “I don’t fight for justice. I fight for you.”

“Aw, that's sweet but so untrue. You may say that, but I know you’ll beat Nightshade senseless the first chance you get. You’ll be fine.” Ranvir breathed deeply, relishing in the scent of Leo’s vanilla-almond shampoo. “I’ll visit whenever I can, but I bet your comics will keep you fine company. Just promise me that, no matter who you drag into bed, I’ll always be your number one.”

Leo’s breath caught in his throat. “So, you are breaking up with me?”

“Can you really handle a long distance relationship?” Leo cursed under his breath. Of course he couldn’t. “I’ll come back for you sometimes, and maybe I’ll come back when Nightshade is silenced, but for now… There’s just no point in pretending. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone. Months, years… I might never be able to come back, so you might as well find a girly girlfriend.”

Ranvir’s attempt to be funny failed epically. “I’m gay,” Leo snarled.

“You read Zombies, Babes and Bazookas. I’m sure you’ve got a straight thought or two in that warped little head of yours.” Leo’s laugh was bitter. Ranvir’s love and companionship was all that kept him sane once Valerie got sick, and now his hero would abandon him. Without Ranvir, all Leo had to do in life was cook French fries and sit next to Valerie in the hospital.

“The house is gonna feel really empty without you…”

“Well,” Ranvir said thoughtfully, “Maybe you should find a new housemate?”

Ladrona slunk away from the shelter once more. It had been three days since her accidental murder, and the situation hadn’t improved. Housing was hard to find and her schoolbooks hadn’t been recovered. She was falling behind in class and running low on credits. She knew she had to rob another bank or jewelry store before she ended up living on the street, but the folks at the shelter had a curfew and they might notice if she were suddenly rich.

Ron kicked an empty beer can down a storm drain and cursed. When she left after killing John, she left it all— she had ran out of the house sobbing, leaving her purse and car and legal documents behind. She hadn’t even grabbed a change of clothes. At least she'd had the sense to bring her hoverdisk. She couldn’t go back there after what happened. There was probably another investigation going on at the apartment, and the cops would arrest her on sight… And then there’d be an awful lot of dead cops. How to get out of this situation? Perhaps if she found a housemate and robbed a bank the night she left the shelter…

“You’re back!” Ron looked up to see a little old lady in blinding floral print clothes. “Life’s keeping you busy, isn’t it, dear? You haven’t helped me up the stairs in nearly a week!”

Ron smiled to herself and hoisted the woman onto her shoulders. “Who carries you up the stairs when I’m not around? You can’t trust that clunky old elevator.” The little lady laughed and held tight as Ron carried her into the office building beside them.

Ron had helped this woman get upstairs to her cubicle every weekday for a couple years now. She didn’t know the woman’s name, and the woman didn’t know hers, but it was a pleasant relationship. Ron had first carried the woman up when she had a broken hip, but Ron kept doing it month after month and it had done wonders for her legs.

“What’s keeping you from your usual charity work, dear?”

“Trouble at home, and now I don’t have one.” Ron waved to the secretary. Her face was familiar here. She didn’t pause at the stairwell, and she began the climb to the top, a whole twenty-two stories up.

“You fought with your boyfriend, didn’t you?” Ron paused, wondering how the old lady knew such a thing. “You’ve got a nasty bruise on your face, dear, it isn’t hard to guess. I just don’t get it! You seem to be such a nice young lady, so how do you get into these messes?”

Nice young lady? Grandma, you have no idea… Ron smiled to herself. “Maybe I just have bad taste in men.” Maybe I should hook up with a respectable supervillain, instead of some righteous Joe with a drinking problem. The last door out of the stairwell loomed ahead. “Well, this is your stop, ma’am! This elevator is now out of service.” She helped the woman off her shoulders beside her cubicle and gave her a sad smile. “You really need to ask your boss about working on the bottom floor.”

“Why bother, when you always seem so happy to carry me?”

“I might never see you again.” The old lady’s face fell. “There’s just no housing here,” Ron explained. “I might have to leave Antiopolis.” The woman’s violently purple hair bobbed as she checked her watch.

“I suppose I’ve got a few minutes,” she decided. “Let me make you some coffee, and we’ll check the listings for a place you can stay. It’ll be—” A loud beep interrupted her. Ron jumped in alarm, but it was just the phone. “Sorry, I should take this,” the old woman said apologetically. Ron glanced at the caller ID.

“Leonardo Peller,” Ron read.

The old woman covered the mouthpiece for a moment. “My grandson. He only calls if it’s an emergency.” She uncovered the microphone. “He’s left you? Oh, congratulations! … What do you mean, you miss him? Leo, he’s a boring creature with an awful goatee. I’d be glad to have him gone… Nonsense, you can’t really love him! Did you really call me to gossip about your sad love life?” Ron stopped paying attention. It was clearly a personal drama. The old woman kept on babbling. Ron busied herself by reading the cute inspirational posters tacked onto the cubicle walls.

There was a sudden silence. Ron pretended not to notice, but the old lady was suddenly staring at her like a greedy child spotting a cake. “ … What is it?” Ron asked suspiciously. She tried to keep her shadows from crawling up her ankle; it was a response to her sudden fear.

“You need a place to stay, don’t you, dear? A cheap place near the university?” Ron nodded in confused agreement. The woman smiled broadly and got held out the phone to Ron. “My grandson needs a new housemate, now that his boyfriend abandoned him.”

A housemate? Ron took the phone with a smile. Finally, things were looking up.