Muhahaha, Petty Thieves, Savage Beasts, and Maniacal Megalomaniacs!
Now we just add a pinch of hate, a cup of revenge, a dash of ill intent…What am I doing, you ask? Well…
This week’s Writing Group prompt is:
The Making of a Villain
RULES AND GUIDELINES BELOW!
Make sure you scroll down and read them if you haven’t! You may not be eligible if you don’t!
This prompt is a wonderful one for our group. Each week we get stories of heroes, of normal people, of morally grey characters…and, while villains sometimes get the spotlight, often they are in the background—always lurking, popping up from time to time for a good fight, or a nice monologue.
The first place my mind goes to with this prompt is a villain’s origin. This is the Joker falling into the acid, Doc Ock’s arms malfunctioning, Dracula’s wife being murdered. This prompt could easily be used to show your readers the moment your villain became a villain. Does this scene make us feel bad for them? Or only make us hate them more?
But, something I love about this prompt is that it is not “The Origin of a Villain.” It’s the “making.” And making—while it can be a single incident—often takes place over the course of many weeks, months, years. For immortal characters, it could even take place over the course of lifetimes. Like baking a good cake, people aren’t made instantly. Maybe someone is slowly molded into the form of a villain by their abusive parent, by their cruel society, by an uncaring spouse, or even by the demons in their own head (literal or figurative). You could write a story about a child crying, just wishing their father loved them. About the teenager bullied at school. About the adult trying so hard to fight their own head. Each of these stories could be how a villain is made in one way or another (just be sure to give us some hint at their later villainy). Stories like these could be a great way to show how complex becoming a villain is, and how villains are often humans just like heroes.
Or…maybe your villain isn’t sympathetic at all. Maybe you want to show just how evil your villain is. Voldemort didn’t really have a moment in his life that turned him evil. He was born through a love potion, and thus incapable of love. If you were to write about his making, you could write about his mother using the love potion long before he’s born. Or you could write about another character wondering why he became evil, and failing to find an answer. You can easily write a story about your hero demanding “Why are you so cruel? What made you this way?” only for the villain to laugh and say “No one made me. I made me.”
But villains aren’t always people. They can be beasts and monsters…or even corporations, societies, governments. This is perhaps a more challenging use of the prompt. You could write a story about how a group started out with a noble goal, but slowly became more corrupt. What was it that started the descent? A corrupt CEO? A single rule change? Someone sitting in their office playing basketball with their garbage can? What made them what they are? Or perhaps you want to write the beasts in the fog. How did they become what they are? Is there something in the fog that made them go mad? Are they simply driven by hunger? You could even write about an evil alien race. What makes them evil? Is it nature or nurture? Are they just trying to protect themselves?
Because that’s another thing about “making” a villain. Someone can be made into a villain when they’re not truly a villain. This is where “history is written by the victors” comes into play. You could write a story about your character realizing the person they thought was the villain all along was actually the hero, and vice versa. This is also where things like propaganda come in. Propaganda can make someone out to be the villain who isn’t, all the while hiding the true villainy behind the posters. There are plenty of stories you could write about how someone was carefully crafted into a villain—your character speaking with their cellmate in jail, hearing them say they were wrongly accused; the supposed “villain” pleading “Please, I’m trying to save you!”; the main character trying to fight the horrible rumors going around. You could make it even simpler than that: the hungry wolf could be a sympathetic hero, or a horrible villain, depending on who’s telling the story.
You could take the prompt more literally. Sometimes characters have need of a villain, and manufacture them in some way. This is Morgoth taking the elves and breaking them so far that even their children are monsters. This is Megamind giving an ordinary man superpowers, trying to create a hero, and instead creating a villain. Does your villain need a henchman? Does your hero need someone to fight? Why might someone force another into the mold of a villain?
I have three challenges for you this week.
My first challenge is one you might expect: this prompt is a very dark one, and I challenge you to make your story more silly or lighthearted! This is the time to bring out the recipes for evil overlords, and the cheesy monologues. Show me the silly villains in amongst the seriousness of the prompt.
The second is to make it Father’s Day related in some way. Villainy may not be the best way to show our father’s love this week, but Vader and Ozai have taught us that sometimes fathers make for great villains…
The third challenge is the most unique and, well, challenging. This challenge is to write what I call a “mirror story.” This is two scenes, with a break between them, that mirror each other. The easiest way to explain what this is is through examples: this means writing about a character being bullied, then having a time skip, and showing in your second scene how they have become a bully themselves. Writing about a child homeless on the street, then showing them in a dark castle, wealthy…and alone. Writing about how one character thinks they’re doing the right thing, and a second perspective on the same scene sees their villainy. You could even write the first scene as someone being a villain, and the second scene as them looking back and regretting that they made themselves a villain. (This story I read on the stream is a perfect example of what I would call a “mirror story”). I love stories that write about a time in a character’s life, and then either fast forward, or flashback, to show how things have changed…and yet stayed the same. Or stories that show the same scene from multiple perspectives. Show how your villain became who they are through different moments in their life. Show how your villain tried to fight for justice once, and now creates injustice. Show how they tried so hard to curb their darker impulses…and how they failed. It can be difficult to do two scenes and/or a time skip in these short stories; I definitely think this could be one of the more difficult challenges, yet one that could create quite profound stories.
You get extra brownie points if you do all three! It would be especially challenging to combine a mirror scene with something lighthearted, but I think you guys can do it!
Remember, these challenges aren’t mandatory! They are meant to be a fun bonus if you’d like to have a little extra challenge. But, if you don’t want to use them, please don’t feel obligated to!
Now, where was I? I was just about to add the motivation…Oh no. I think I made them too hot.
—Kaylie
—
Remember, this is part of our weekly Writing Group stream! Submit a little piece following the rules and guidelines below, and there’s a chance your entry will be read live on stream! In addition, we’ll discuss it for a minute and give you some feedback.
Tune into the stream this Saturday at 3:00pm CST to see if you made the cut!
The whole purpose of this is to show off the creativity of the community, while also helping each other to become better writers. Lean into that spirit! Get ready not just to share what you’ve got, but to give back to the other writers here as well.
Rules and Guidelines
We read at least five stories during each stream, two of which come from the public post, and three of which come from the much smaller private post. Submissions are randomly selected by a bot, but likes on your post will improve your chances of selection, so be sure to share your submission on social media!
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Watch the Birdy
by Jesse Fisher
“Now when I flip this switch the whole town will know my wrath.”
The heavy armored being finished its monologue as the captive audience for three people. One was a man whose fear seemed plastered on his face. Second was a woman who seemed tired of this whole affair. Lastly there was a macaw that seemed to be far more restrained then the humans.
“Co-me on man, what di-id this town do-o to you?” The male captive stammered out.
“They ignored me when I told them that raising the cost of living would result in a larger population of people not having homes.”
“Oh please the area was redone for more mansions and we are now the ninth richest city in the country.” The woman dismissed as she rolled her eyes. “There are cheaper housing elsewhere in the city.”
“And yet none of you raised the pay rate for people to afford it.” The armor being countered. “You just kept it the same rate to have the excuse of ‘available’ jobs.”
“And your excuse for all these items makes you any better?”
“You would be surprised at how recycling works when you have a near unlimited supply given to you by people tearing down anything ‘ugly’.”
“You know what after hearing all this I’m going with the armored guy, no wonder they turned informant for the FBA.”
The man and woman turned to the Macaw.
“Right forgot to introduce myself, Marcus A. Crawford. I was sent to met with out informant to get confirmation that this city violated the law on equality and given what the lady over there has said I’m confirming it with headquatures.”
At this the woman was shocked while the man was confused.
“Did that bird just talk?”
Letters From Far Away
By Taja DaLeen
Dear Kyle,
I have just arrived on the island I was telling you about in my last letter. It really is beautiful here, and I already have a few plot ideas for my new novel, so I’d say the trip is pretty successful so far.
Even if I do miss you a lot. I hope you’re doing well, and that you take care of yourself.
Well, back to the topic of my novel… what I still need more ideas and inspiration for is a good villain, that one I’m still missing.
I wonder what you’d tell me right now… probably something about a villain being a character first and foremost as well, with agency and desires, strengths and weaknesses like any other character.
Still, I’m thinking a lot about what makes a villain exactly that – a villain. Is it just being evil? Do they really need to do evil stuff; or is it enough if their end goal is evil? And what about those that have a noble goal, but do all the wrong things to achieve it?
Couldn’t all of that make interesting villains?
Or… is it really just a matter of perspective?
And, most importantly, what kind of villain do I want for my story? Or rather, what kind of villain does my story need?
As of now, I have no idea. Hopefully I can figure that one out before I need to come back home – I know how much you dislike it when I sit at my desk until late at night just thinking.
I’ll probably ponder that question some more after I talk to the merpeople I’m supposed to meet tomorrow; maybe they can even give me a few ideas, telling me what they think a villain could be.
But I think that’s it for today’s letter, I think I already told you everything that happened lately anyway. I’ll write to you again tomorrow, ok?
I hope we see each other again soon. In love for now and all time,
Thomas
Fiercer than Scylla and Charybdis combined – danger is in the eyes of the beholder
by Aracnarquista
Logbook Entry 13 – 12 days after leaving port
Currents and winds are both dead. The skies promise us no change. We are stranded, with no succor in sight.
Taking into account our supplies and the crew size, I’m confident we would be able to survive for a long while. But that is just considering our dietary needs. Our main concern right now is not starvation, but the Beast.
We are not just stranded in any patch of the sea. We are stranded in the Beast’s hunting ground.
I first saw the Beast when the current was still pulling us through. An enormous creature with powerful claws appeared out of nowhere and slapped us out of course. And then, just as it appeared, it disappeared. Since then, no winds or currents carry us, and we occasionally catch glimpses of the Beast in the distance.
It prowls on us. Twice or thrice during the last hours of the day, it approaches us and taps the ship. The first mate says it is playing with us, like a cat would do to a mouse. I think it is taking us little by little closer to its lair.
“Not what I said, Captain. I did not use no metaphor, sir. It is indeed a cat. Well, a kitten. And it seems quite interested in our little paper boat.”
“Mate, you are ruining it all again. It is a ferocious beast with the power to capsize this ship, and we are at its mercy.”
“I don’t dispute that capability, Captain. But so far it has just been trying to play with us. It could, if careless or if it wanted, completely destroy our ship – but a light rain could also do that. I don’t think we are in immediate danger.”
“And what’s the fun in a grand sea adventure without any risk, my mate? Come on, help me here. The kitten’s appearance – and its curiosity – is a dramatic blessing! Imagine the stories little Sam could tell about us vanquishing the terrible sea beast? Or, even better, befriending it?”
Return (Life of Madness)
by Lee Strangely
As Maddy tightened the ropes around the corpse, she occasionally looked up to see Shiloh marching about the room, moving things, placing objects… all within the circle that stained the floor. For a moment she looked at the corpse’s empty eyes, then looked to Shiloh. Her mouth opened, but nothing came. She wanted to say something, but…
Shiloh was focused, his expression blankly serious. He seemed almost as cold as the windows’ gray light. So cold that it froze each word before they could leave her throat.
She watched as Shiloh opened up an old black book.
“Shiloh?” she muttered.
He began lighting candles around them.
“You said you couldn’t…”
“There’s many ways to find spirits…” he looked at her, “some… more, unsavory, ways…”
“Look, you don’t have to…”
“No,” he stopped her as he opened the book, “I owe you this.” He wrapped his hand around a knife blade.
“You don’t owe me-”
“I do, and I’m not letting you down,” he bled as he pulled the blade out, “not now… not again…”
Before Maddy could rebuke, his hand went into the circle, the winds outside intensifying as he did.
“Shiloh?” she reached out only to be stopped by his other hand.
“Don’t”
Shiloh’s eyes dashed in every which direction, all seeing, yet seeing nothing at all. The candle fire grew brighter the longer it went.
“I see him.”
Then, his hand snapped shut, “Got him… Wait…”
Shiloh collapsed.
As soon as his hand left the ground, the candles sputtered out, and the winds died down to nothing.
Maddy ran up to check him, then returned to the corpse.
“Dad?” she asked.
Nothing.
She pulled him up by the hair. His eyes… still empty…
There came a growl…
She looked at the corpse, whose mouth remained shut.
“Madness… Dyer… MERIDIAN!” Maddy’s heart halted, her blood running cold as the voice barked, “What did you do?! Look at me.”
Maddy just stood there, shrinking, until someone finally grabbed her and spun her around. Standing there was Shiloh.
“Madness,” he boomed, “you’ll look at your father when he’s talking to you!”
The End of The Rainbow (Chronicles of The Dragon)
By Makokam
“Your friends aren’t going to save you. They can’t.”
“YES THEY WILL!!!”
Eros recoiled at the force of will before it shoved him out of the girls mind. He sat in his chair, wincing as the aftershocks rippled through him. He reached for the liquor bottle by his chair and drank deeply.
The power in her mind was absurd. He shouldn’t have been surprised, Lady Keres had said that magic was enforcing your will on reality, and the girl’s power to reshape reality could be greater than anyone’s if she had actual focus. It was fortunate for them that she didn’t have proper control, but once he managed to break her, and force her to do their bidding, he’d make sure her power did exactly what they wanted it to.
He put the cool bottle against his forehead. It didn’t help.
He was going to need a new approach.
.oOo.
“You’re useless. Worse than useless! You’re a danger! We’re better off with you locked in a hole,” the vision of her team leader sneered at her before turning and leaving.
“No! Please! Don’t leave me here!”
It would take longer than any of them wanted, but the rainbow headed brat didn’t even seem to notice him this way. It would break her sooner or later, and then he could put the pieces back together however he wanted.
.oOo.
He gave her things to destroy. Encouraged it. Whispered into her mind. And as she grew accustomed to his voice, the whispers became orders. To burn, to destroy, to wreak havoc on anything and everything around her. And when she followed his orders, he gave her just the littlest bit of praise
The landscape of her mind filled with specters of her friends. At first she was hesitant to strike them down, but their mocking and condescending expressions made her angry. Eager to be rid of them, her hesitation faded. He made sure there were always more to taunt her, driving her to greater and quicker acts of violence.
Soon, she would be nothing but a vessel for chaos, destruction, and death.
[DM me on Discord for details!]
Putting the Pieces Together (Students of the DiamondBridge Academy universe)
by Carrie (Glaceon373)
Olaia Tizip stepped out of her car, her heavy yawn tickling the inside of her gills in the most uncomfortable way possible. She’d barely collected all of her belongings when a stunningly shiny white car slid into the next parking spot over.
“Ah, Tizip, good morning!” Acting Principal Nicklescribe said as he exited the vehicle. “Do you like it? I just bought it this weekend. I’ve been saving up for it for years.”
His smile was the same color and shine as the car.
“It’s… very nice,” Olaia said.
Her boss made his way to the school doors. Olaia glanced around the parking lot, making eye contact with Dr. K, one of the biology teachers.
They both shrugged and went to work.
~~~
“Hello, Professor. How’s your day been so far?”
“Oh!” Professor Paqulamar nearly dropped his overfilled clipboard on the break room floor. “Nicklescribe, I didn’t see you there! My day’s been alright, how about yours?”
“Oh, it’s been busy every second. Financing this new class has been draining. I knew a ninety plat class fee felt like too much in the beginning, but now I’m starting to wonder if it was too little. I’m taking money out of my own paycheck for these kids.”
“Been there. Say, is that a new watch, Nicklescribe?”
“Oh, this? Oh, no, I just haven’t worn it in years. Isn’t it nice, though?”
A price tag stuck up from the collar of his shirt. Olaia and Dr. K, standing in the doorway, exchanged a glance.
~~~
Dr. K examined his lab equipment, checking for damage. In the reflection of a particularly clean piece of glassware, he saw a certain sea elf open the classroom door.
“So I’m not alone in my concern,” Dr. K said.
Olaia closed the door tightly. “Are you still on the Wages Board?”
“Never, actually. Why?”
She cursed in Elvish. “Do you think Nicklescribe is getting paid as a teacher, vice principal, AND head principal?”
“Potentially, also as a dean.”
“And in those outrageous class fees.”
“I have a plan if you don’t.”
She smiled. “Glad to see we’re both prepared.”
Lost Knowledge
~Fog Wall
Legend has it that these forgotten tunnels contained one of the World Elders. A being so magically powerful that its breath created this massive crystalline cavern and its magic permeates everything above.
Touching the crystal wall, it gave a soft, reactive glow. Veivaun could feel the essence of the Elder Beast. Tendrils of its magic wisped out and danced around her hand. The crystals here resonated with an abundance of the Beast’s aura, causing them to shift colors continuously.
Despite the difficulties, she came prepared. Having an answer for every challenge and pitfall. Eventually coming upon an exceedingly spacious chamber, she found herself standing in awe at the precipice of a sheer cliff. It overlooked a shining sandbar surrounded by glistening waterfalls. Some flowed from the walls; others free fell from the ceiling far above.
“This must be the place,” she murmured.
Making her way down to the sandbar she could see it. A sculpted platform that extended into the black waters. Every step and every side was etched with a long dead language.
“The Altar of Celedawn.”
Veivaun knelt and ran her fingers gently through the sands. Bones and crystal fragments were what it consisted of. She wasn’t at all surprised, this was the tomb of a god after all.
Making her way up the shore to the altar; a circular stone table with eight rounded grooves of which ran from a divot in its center and down all sides of the altar.
Pulling out a dagger and stabbing her palm, she only gave a small wince and took a deep breath. Putting the blade away, Veivaun put her wound over the divot, filling it with her blood.
The granite altar began to glow as it started pulling in the magic from the crystal walls of the cavern. The grooved etchings carried her blood across the altar and down the sides and into the water below. Causing the waters to emanate a red glow.
“The Ancients will rise again!” She screamed. “Lend me your strength and I will become your catalyst!”
Villainous Inspiration
By MasaCur
The tavern waitress set the pint of ale in front of Sir Charles Waltz. She grinned toothily. “What’s next, Sir Charles? ‘Ave you got a new role lined up?”
Charles shook his head. “I’m meeting my manager about that very thing.”
The door to the pub opened, and a man in a sable fur coat and top hat entered. He signaled the bartender and sat down across from Charles.
Charles nodded. “Tony. I hope you have good news for me.”
“Only the best for you, chum. Only the best.”
Charles shivered at the oiliness of his manager’s personality, but he was effective at finding him roles. Good roles. “What, pray tell, do you have?”
“George Shaw just wrote a play based on the crimes of Magnus Van Nilsson. The Globe’s director has you specifically in mind to play him. If he can cast you, he feels confident that he can tempt a similar grade of talent to play agents Doyle and Markham to play opposite you.”
Charles blinked in surprise. “Van Nilsson? That madman that almost took down the Empire?”
“Of course, love, of course! Who better to play him than the great Sir Charles Waltz? Whose Iago is still being talked about ten years after that fact. Whose turn as Cardinal Richelieu has been all the talk of last year’s theater season. Who better to play the villainous Van Nilsson than the man who has portrayed the greatest villains the theater has ever seen?”
“And you say George Bernard Shaw wrote this play?”
“Indeed he did!”
Charles took a swallow of his ale, and nodded appreciatively. At the same time, a glass of wine was set in front of Tony. Tony winked at the barmaid, and hoisted the glass. “Shall we toast your next role, Charlie?
“Set up a meeting at the Globe for me to talk to the director.”
“Excellent.” Tony took a sip of his wine. “How do you manage to play such effective villains anyway, mate?”
Charles set down his glass. “Actually, I just base them all after my old headmaster.”
A Matter of Perspective (Or: A Monster in Plain Sight)
WriterOfThought
Florin was never a fan of how he looked first thing in the morning. Especially if his disguising cloak fell off in his restless sleep.
He re-tied the finicky fabric around himself and watched as the magic worked its way on his image. Muscular green skin turned pale, his black hair gained a ruddy color. The oddest part was his face, where his yellowed eyes changed to brown, his upturned nose gained a button-like quality, and his under-fangs receded entirely. He even gained some handsome freckles across his skin.
Florin checked again to make sure the cloak was securely tied to him. He couldn’t afford the panic that would ensue if people knew that the man they thought was a humble peddler who told entrancing stories of faraway lands was actually…
Florin gathered up his wares and hauled his trunk onto his back. Today he would peddle around the marketplace.
Most of the morning proved fruitless. The nobles had sent their slaves to fetch the daily needs, meaning none of them had the time, desire, or funds to see the trinkets he touted, not that they would be able to use them anyway. Not with the magic in those brands.
But then he was able to feast his eyes on the most gorgeous creature he had ever seen. She was more than any woman his own kind could offer. Jet black hair blended with her indigo skin, leading to horns which curled back as gracefully as she walked. But Florin only saw her eyes: bright blue and full of life. The branding had not stamped the hope from her soul.
He made it a point to “accidentally” drop some of his wares in front of her as he tried to draw customers to his blanket and trunk, if only so he could look into her eyes as she helped him gather the charms.
As she left, Florin made a vow within his heart: he would find a way to help her out of her bondage. He would make sure the hope in her eyes lived on. By any means necessary.
Power At A Price
by Gerrit (Rattus)
Marik knelt on the ground, his arms restrained by a pair of Hegemony guards. Blood trickled down his face from where it had been broken and split. His breath came in ragged spurts, his whole body screaming for a relief from the pain.
“What’s wrong? You seemed so tough and heroic mere moments ago. I expected more from a wielder of a relic.” The Lord of the Hegemony taunted Marik from atop his throne. Despite the touch of mockery in his voice, his face was a picture of disinterest, one cheek resting against his fist.
A bitter reply formed in Marik’s mind, but when he tried to force the words from his mouth, only a series of bloody coughs escaped.
“You and your friends are fighting a losing battle. You know this. Why fight any longer?” The being rose from his throne, each step towards Marik emphasizing his words as he continued.
“It doesn’t have to be this way. You could be a catalyst for change.”
His words permeated Marik’s brain, soothing the anger that had filled it until now. Even his pain seemed to ebb, the words a much needed salve for the burning beneath his skin.
“You’ve seen the corruption in this world. You’ve felt its pain. I seek to end this suffering. Only through complete unity can this world know peace.”
He rested his hand against Marik’s forehead, and in an instant, the walls of Marik’s consciousness broke down. The next words came not from the being’s mouth, but as an echo within Marik’s head.
“Join us, Marik. I will give you the strength to reshape this world, and protect your loved ones.”
Memories flashed in Marik’s mind of his daughter, little more than an infant, now doomed to grow up without a mother because of this war. He wouldn’t let her grow up without a father, too.
Marik’s next words came effortlessly, though he couldn’t tell if he spoke them, or merely thought them directly to the being before him.
“I swear to you, milord.”
The Villain You Failed to Notice Breathes Within You
By Marx (CW: Alex, aka physical/emotional torture)
Jasmine had just enough time to marvel at the beauty of the flames engulfing her hands before it was torn away by the pain as an ear-piercing scream erupted from her lips.
“Excellent,” Alex said, grinning widely. “Now, summon it again.”
Jasmine whimpered as she looked to her trembling charred hands then back at him.
He rolled his eyes in response. “Fine. Do it two more times for me and scream nice and loud just like that last one. Then I’ll teach you how to do it without burning yourself.”
Jasmine’s breathing picked up. She knew the deal. Alex doesn’t repeat himself. Either she does this or he takes control of her mind and makes her do it anyway. Even as her magic slowly healed her injuries, Jasmine’s eyes welled up, her teeth clenched in hatred. “Why?! Why are you like this?!”
Alex threw back his head into a loud laugh before painfully grabbing Jasmine by her chin, forcing her to look at him. “Why? I suppose I could have just… made you feel like hundreds of bugs were under your skin, eating you from the inside. Oh… wait… You were the one who did that, weren’t you? To your ‘friend’ over there in the corner. What’s your excuse?”
Jasmine’s lips trembled as she answered, “Because she hurt me. And… hurting her is a distraction… from not being able to hurt you.”
“You could try,” Alex offered, smiling.
Jasmine knew better than to take that bait. “Who hurt you?”
Alex broke into another fit of laughter. “Absolutely no one. You are weak, my beautiful fool. I don’t hurt those around me because I’m in pain. I do it because in a world where I see everyone as my food… where the days, and years and centuries and millennia just go on… and on…
“…other’s pain still gives me joy. Even in my youth, it brought me a happiness that the weak will never understand. As other things get boring, pain and agony are always there to make me smile.”
“Now…,” Alex said, letting go of Jasmine. “Summon the flames again.”
A Breath of Fresh Villainy or An Impromptu Therapy Session
by Lunabear (Please don’t read on stream)
He laughed maniacally while chasing his hapless victim down the empty high school hallway. It was after hours, and no one else was around. One blast from his Firing Freezee left the woman sprawled on the floor.
He loomed over her with a sneering grin. “That’s it,” he taunted. “Try and escape.”
With great effort, the woman turned onto her back. Her eyes shimmered with tears. “Why are you doing this?”
“Well, Alicia Carraway, grade 11 Algebra teacher, because I can! I, UnderQuak– uh, no. I, Feral Fiend, will make you bow–no, wait.” Pulling out ‘The Handbook to Perfect Villainy’ from his pouch, he consulted its pages. “Chapter 14, capturing civilians, gloating, motives, making demands. Hmmm. I think I missed a step.”
Alicia worked to drag herself away using her hands, but Feral Fiend froze her right one. He read on, but snarled in frustration. “No, no! This all feels wrong!” He put the book back. “World domination isn’t my goal. I just want a hero to rescue you.”
“So…you don’t want to hurt me?” Alicia’s question oozed confusion.
“What? Heavens, no! I detest violence, but I love the dynamic, you see. But ever since Super Titan moved on to a NEW villain, I’ve felt…empty.”
“Aww.” Alicia sat as best she could. “Have you tried calling to talk things out?”
Feral Fiend nodded, gritting his teeth. “Him AND The League of Assorted Heroes. They all ignore me, no matter how hard I try.”
“Maybe you should move on, too. Going in straight lines only gets you so far. I’m fond of upward spirals.”
“How can I?”
“Well, you have a hostage.” She raised her hand. “Involving the news usually helps.”
“You’re absolutely right!” he gasped. “To the roof, then! But first…” He giggled while pulling the fire alarm. “I’ve ALWAYS wanted to do that!” He set the laser to ‘thaw’ and freed Alicia.
Stowing the laser, he helped her up and bound her wrists lightly with rope. “You should get a raise. I have a friend on the school board committee.”
“That’s sweet.”
Elated, he let Alicia take the lead.