The room was large, dark, and quiet save for the occasional muffled scream. The floor and walls were cold tile, the ceiling high and empty; the entire place had the feeling of a mausoleum, yet another thing Villain detested. Why does my place always have to be so drab? he wondered as he sat on his ivory throne at the very back of the room, impatiently tapping his foot against the hard floor and every-so-often glancing at Damsel. Of all the heroines he’d ever captured, this one was by far the most annoying: she barely fought his men when they captured her and didn’t even bother to plea with Villain as she was chained and gagged. She just hung limp from the wall like a doll, waiting for her hero to save her from doom and occasionally letting loose a damped scream to make sure the mood was still right. Seeing Damsel behave so weakly only saddened Villain further, and he eventually stopped looking at her at all, content to glumly brood as he watched the door on the other side of the room.
When did it come to this? he thought wearily as he waited for Hero to barge into his depressing little tomb. Villain was an older man, sporting equal amounts of black and white in a mane that reached his shoulders. He was a sickly, pale, and ugly man, his puffy bloodshot eyes and messy beard highlighting this fact. He was a smart and clever man, having been the “bad guy” for uncountable stories in numerous forms and always playing the part perfectly. But, most of all, Villain was a tired man, a man who had long since grown sick of his role. The complex characters he could be in the past had given way to modern stereotypes, the stories he acted in becoming generic and predictable. Villain was beyond complaint, beyond outrage; after so many years of being forced to live the same monotony day in and day out, the only thing Villain felt was tired.
He sighed and rubbed his temples as Damsel let loose yet another token scream. In poetic response to a scream he had no way of hearing, Hero burst through the door, looking young and handsome as his eyes tried to adjust to the sudden darkness.
“Damsel! Are you here?!” Hero yelled, blinking hard and trying to squint through the gloom. Showtime, Villain thought dryly as he prepared for the routine he knew only too well. Damsel gave a loud mmmmmh! and Hero (stupidly) began running blind towards his sweetheart, his footsteps loudly echoing throughout the room. 3….2….1….Villain pushed a hidden button on his armrest, and an iron cage suddenly shot down from the ceiling, conveniently trapping Hero as he almost reached Damsel. Hero let out a surprised yelp and struggled vainly, wildly gripping the bars as he yelled ‘Damsel!’ again and again. These things just get more and more ridiculous, Villain thought as he shook his head and cleared his throat. He rose from his chair and walked slowly towards the trapped hero. Seeing Hero struggle viciously to break the cage had driven Damsel crazy; she strained against her restraints, yelling what sounded like ‘Hero!Hero!’ as if saying his name repeatedly would solve anything. Pitiful, Villain thought glumly as he cleared his throat and began his speech.
“Well well well. Looks like you’ve fallen right into my trap.” Villain spoke slowly, masterfully punctuating each word with a small step towards Hero, finishing his sentence just an arm length away. Villain allowed a dramatic silence as Hero stopped struggling and turned around.
“You?! You’ll never get away with this!!” Hero glared at him with innocent eyes as he struggled even harder to break 3-inches of solid iron with his bare-hands. If only I had a nickel for every time I’ve heard…Villain mused a bit, trying to count how many nickels he would indeed have before giving up and continuing his speech.
“Ah, but you see, I already have. As we speak my forces are mobilizing, crushing any resistance in their path. Soon, I shall have the continent. Then, I will rule the WORLD! MWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!” Villain cringed inside as he delivered the evil laugh. It was screeching, maniacal, expertly done through years of practice. It echoed throughout the room till it sounded as if they were in a madhouse, scaring Damsel into silence and adding an extra dimension of ruthless evil to Villain’s cruel plans. And it was stupid. Of all the things Villain couldn’t stand: the terrible lodgings, his henchmens’ stupidity, the predictability of the stories; of all those things, not one came close to receiving as much hatred as the evil laugh. It was just so…..stupid. So cliché. So over-the-top and ridiculous. When Villain finally let it die, the laugh’s ghost haunted him for a fraction of a second longer, mocking him from the hard walls. He sighed. His speech gratefully over, Villain turned his back to a glaring Hero and walked slowly to his throne. Now began the painful part of his job.
From experience, Villain knew that hero’s typically needed all of ten seconds with the villain looking away before they could escape from impossible circumstances. Villain trudged along as slowly and evilly as possible, making sure that Hero had more than enough time to break-free and save the day. I wonder how this one will do it, Villain thought wearily as he walked. Maybe he’ll use a hidden blade like the last one. Or maybe the all-mighty “power of love”. Or perhaps- THUMP! Villain suddenly had the wind knocked out of him as Hero caught him in a flying tackle from behind. He fell to the ground hard with Hero on top, Damsel muffle-screaming her lungs out.
The fight that ensued was long and dramatic, the outcome all but predictable. Villain lay limp on the floor, bleeding and bruised as he watched Hero untie a blubbering Damsel and kiss her. Oh brother, he thought, trying to get up only to wince and collapse. Apart from the end, the fight was one of Villains most detested parts of the story, as it always left him immobile and forced to endure the grand finale. Villain wondered if this hero would kill or spare him as he saw Hero detach from Damsel’s embrace and walk towards him slowly and dramatically.
“Hey Villain.”
Hero picked Villain up by the collar, the former’s strong healthy body easily lifting the latter’s sickly pile of bones. Villain braced himself the best he could as Hero brought him up to eye level, his shining blue eyes gazing intently into Villain’s dull and muddy circles. Here it comes…
“This is for Best Friend!”
The punch took him in the gut, a blur so fast that Villain felt the air leave his lungs as he doubled over. His stomach exploded with pain as his eyes swam with bursts of color; Villain crumpled to the ground, where he was kicked once by Damsel before she and Hero left his miserable tomb to resume their perfect happy lives. In fetal position and twitching in agony, Villain found an iota of comfort in being left alive this time; dying was a hassle, and although heroes these days typically left him alive, he could never be sure until the end. Villain didn’t know how long he lay there hurting, unable to move. By degrees the pain in his stomach settled to a dull throb and his head stopped spinning. Although he probably could, Villain didn’t get up. Why should he? Villain knew the story no longer focused on him; as soon as a hero defeated him, no one really cared about the villain anymore. His job done, he remained on the cold hard floor, in a terrible room that was always so quiet and dark and drab, waiting to be called into his next story. Just pitiful, thought Villain sadly as he lay, once again, defeated, hurt, and alone.
When did it come to this? he thought wearily as he waited for Hero to barge into his depressing little tomb. Villain was an older man, sporting equal amounts of black and white in a mane that reached his shoulders. He was a sickly, pale, and ugly man, his puffy bloodshot eyes and messy beard highlighting this fact. He was a smart and clever man, having been the “bad guy” for uncountable stories in numerous forms and always playing the part perfectly. But, most of all, Villain was a tired man, a man who had long since grown sick of his role. The complex characters he could be in the past had given way to modern stereotypes, the stories he acted in becoming generic and predictable. Villain was beyond complaint, beyond outrage; after so many years of being forced to live the same monotony day in and day out, the only thing Villain felt was tired.
He sighed and rubbed his temples as Damsel let loose yet another token scream. In poetic response to a scream he had no way of hearing, Hero burst through the door, looking young and handsome as his eyes tried to adjust to the sudden darkness.
“Damsel! Are you here?!” Hero yelled, blinking hard and trying to squint through the gloom. Showtime, Villain thought dryly as he prepared for the routine he knew only too well. Damsel gave a loud mmmmmh! and Hero (stupidly) began running blind towards his sweetheart, his footsteps loudly echoing throughout the room. 3….2….1….Villain pushed a hidden button on his armrest, and an iron cage suddenly shot down from the ceiling, conveniently trapping Hero as he almost reached Damsel. Hero let out a surprised yelp and struggled vainly, wildly gripping the bars as he yelled ‘Damsel!’ again and again. These things just get more and more ridiculous, Villain thought as he shook his head and cleared his throat. He rose from his chair and walked slowly towards the trapped hero. Seeing Hero struggle viciously to break the cage had driven Damsel crazy; she strained against her restraints, yelling what sounded like ‘Hero!Hero!’ as if saying his name repeatedly would solve anything. Pitiful, Villain thought glumly as he cleared his throat and began his speech.
“Well well well. Looks like you’ve fallen right into my trap.” Villain spoke slowly, masterfully punctuating each word with a small step towards Hero, finishing his sentence just an arm length away. Villain allowed a dramatic silence as Hero stopped struggling and turned around.
“You?! You’ll never get away with this!!” Hero glared at him with innocent eyes as he struggled even harder to break 3-inches of solid iron with his bare-hands. If only I had a nickel for every time I’ve heard…Villain mused a bit, trying to count how many nickels he would indeed have before giving up and continuing his speech.
“Ah, but you see, I already have. As we speak my forces are mobilizing, crushing any resistance in their path. Soon, I shall have the continent. Then, I will rule the WORLD! MWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!” Villain cringed inside as he delivered the evil laugh. It was screeching, maniacal, expertly done through years of practice. It echoed throughout the room till it sounded as if they were in a madhouse, scaring Damsel into silence and adding an extra dimension of ruthless evil to Villain’s cruel plans. And it was stupid. Of all the things Villain couldn’t stand: the terrible lodgings, his henchmens’ stupidity, the predictability of the stories; of all those things, not one came close to receiving as much hatred as the evil laugh. It was just so…..stupid. So cliché. So over-the-top and ridiculous. When Villain finally let it die, the laugh’s ghost haunted him for a fraction of a second longer, mocking him from the hard walls. He sighed. His speech gratefully over, Villain turned his back to a glaring Hero and walked slowly to his throne. Now began the painful part of his job.
From experience, Villain knew that hero’s typically needed all of ten seconds with the villain looking away before they could escape from impossible circumstances. Villain trudged along as slowly and evilly as possible, making sure that Hero had more than enough time to break-free and save the day. I wonder how this one will do it, Villain thought wearily as he walked. Maybe he’ll use a hidden blade like the last one. Or maybe the all-mighty “power of love”. Or perhaps- THUMP! Villain suddenly had the wind knocked out of him as Hero caught him in a flying tackle from behind. He fell to the ground hard with Hero on top, Damsel muffle-screaming her lungs out.
The fight that ensued was long and dramatic, the outcome all but predictable. Villain lay limp on the floor, bleeding and bruised as he watched Hero untie a blubbering Damsel and kiss her. Oh brother, he thought, trying to get up only to wince and collapse. Apart from the end, the fight was one of Villains most detested parts of the story, as it always left him immobile and forced to endure the grand finale. Villain wondered if this hero would kill or spare him as he saw Hero detach from Damsel’s embrace and walk towards him slowly and dramatically.
“Hey Villain.”
Hero picked Villain up by the collar, the former’s strong healthy body easily lifting the latter’s sickly pile of bones. Villain braced himself the best he could as Hero brought him up to eye level, his shining blue eyes gazing intently into Villain’s dull and muddy circles. Here it comes…
“This is for Best Friend!”
The punch took him in the gut, a blur so fast that Villain felt the air leave his lungs as he doubled over. His stomach exploded with pain as his eyes swam with bursts of color; Villain crumpled to the ground, where he was kicked once by Damsel before she and Hero left his miserable tomb to resume their perfect happy lives. In fetal position and twitching in agony, Villain found an iota of comfort in being left alive this time; dying was a hassle, and although heroes these days typically left him alive, he could never be sure until the end. Villain didn’t know how long he lay there hurting, unable to move. By degrees the pain in his stomach settled to a dull throb and his head stopped spinning. Although he probably could, Villain didn’t get up. Why should he? Villain knew the story no longer focused on him; as soon as a hero defeated him, no one really cared about the villain anymore. His job done, he remained on the cold hard floor, in a terrible room that was always so quiet and dark and drab, waiting to be called into his next story. Just pitiful, thought Villain sadly as he lay, once again, defeated, hurt, and alone.