I'm sorry...is this a prank? Yes, I'm aware that this...if true...is serious. It's very serious.

If true.

I don't know why you'd make up something like this! I don't even know how you got my phone number!

Ah...yes, well that makes sense.

Okay, take a deep breath...get your breathing under control and let's start at the beginning, shall we? Your parents did what to your dog?

And they did that because?

I didn't say it was justified...I just asked what event precipitated that response!

Again I'm forced to ask "Is this a prank?" They killed your dog...because you didn't paint the garage...or mow the lawn...or take out the trash...

And you didn't accomplish any of that because you were out fighting crime.

Yes, I know who you are. I recognized your voice almost instantly...I'm a Criminal Mastermind, you know.

Wait...hang on...your parents still don't know that you're a crimefighter? For God's sake, boy, you're only 17!

Yes, I'm aware that you're capable, we've had some good fights. Not that I'm in the habit of beating up teenagers, mind you...I just thought you were a bit on the skinny side when we first met.

Well, you're pretty muscular for a teenager...even the kids on the football squad aren't generally that big until they get to college.

Hrm? One more time?

Okay, well...not sure how that's relevant.

OH...you think your parents kicked you out of the house because you're gay. Well, considering how they murdered your pet I'd say evicting you is a pretty reasonable response from them.

I do believe I added the quantifier "from them" to that statement.

No, you most certainly can not come stay with me!

Well, let's see...for starters I'm over 35 and you're a teenager.

Excuse me?

Well, I'm not Leonardo DiCaprio, now am I?

What do you mean you were sure I'd say yes?

Why did you think I was gay?

Okay, let's get something straight...stop giggling, I'm trying to make a point...just because homosexuals have historically been well-represented in Theater they do NOT own it!

Yes, I'm being serious!

What? No, that's not true at all. No, it is not! Listen, comic book superheroes originated in the United States of America in the early 20th Century in New York City, a haven for immigrants! The superhero was only able to be himself in the privacy of his home, when he went out into the world he wore a disguise so he could fight injustice and make his community safer! Any allusions to homosexuals having to do the same things was entirely coincidental and unintended.

Oh, I read a lot.

Yes, history, theater, art...no, I am not gay! In fact, this conversation is keeping me from two women I've been pursuing for some time---

No, not like that. We'll be having dinner shortly.

Yes, I cooked.

You know Gordon Ramsay is married and has two children, right?

Anyway, about your parents. Well, I'm no expert, but it sounds like they've either been replaced or possessed by supernatural beings. In either event I'm not much good to you, really.

No, it's not that I don't want to help you, I'm saying that I, personally, wouldn't be able to. We have equivalent strength, speed, and agility so you don't need my help taking them down physically, and you know them better than I do so it's not like I'd be able to spot something you couldn't.

sigh No...you're not on your own. I said that I couldn't help you, but I know someone who might. I'm going to send you to a witch named Asheara...what's that?

No, that's literally her job title, you dullard!

I do have guests, you know.

Right, as I was saying...you can find Asheara in the cemetery on Grove Street. She'll be collecting moss from headstones since Guy Fawkes Day is coming and she likes to be prepared. Yes, just tell her I sent you and don't sneak up on her. She really doesn't like that.

Well, good luck with the parents.

sigh Teenagers.

Edit: This is now a Webtoons webcomic. Hope you enjoy.

"It's 2 in the morning. If you're offering a contract with anything less than six zeroes, I'm hanging up and tracking you down to kill you when I wake up."

No frantic apologies came through the other end, or any sort of talk of a contract. Just the sound of heavy breathing and...crying? I was all set to hang up when a weary voice said, "Hi Boneyard."

I sat up and replied, "Lovebug? How the hell did you get this number?"

"I ran around town until I found someone who had it. I've been running all night."

"Look, whatever major threat you've got on your plate that absolutely needs my help to deal with, can it wait until--"

"Can I stay with you?"

My brain struggled to process what Lovebug had just said to me. "What?"

Lovebug sniffled. "Can I stay with you? Please? I don't... have anywhere else to go."

"Lovebug, I don't know what kind of issues you're having with your parents, but--" Lovebug's pained sobs cut me off. The realization hit me as I quietly said, "They threw you out, didn't they?"

"Since I started as Lovebug, I've been coming home late and forgetting or not having the energy to do my chores. I tried, I really tried to get home on time last night, but I couldn't make it. And when I came home, I found my dog on the doorstep with--with a hole in his chest. And my dad opened the door, and he had his shotgun, and he said if I couldn't be trusted to get home on time, I couldn't be trusted to have a pet."

I already wanted to kill Lovebug's dad, but she wasn't done. "The next day, I came home from school, and my parents were at the kitchen table with my laptop and my books, and they started screaming at me. They said they'd never be so stupid as to let their child be a....be a...I can't even say it. And they threw me out, and they wouldn't open up the door no matter how much I begged, and--" Lovebug couldn't take it anymore, and collapsed into pained sobbing.

I was already out of my bed and halfway dressed in my body armor as I said, "Give me your location. I'll come to you."

"I'm in the alley behind Dragon Pho. P--Please don't hang up. I don't want to be alone."

"I won't. I promise." As I loaded up my guns, I stopped to look at a photo on the wall. It was a picture of me with my platoonmates before we shipped out for Operation Torch. I sighed deeply, prompting Lovebug to pipe up, "I'm sorry I woke you up like this--"

"I'm not upset at you, kid. I'm just... disappointed people are still the same in the hundred and seventeen years I've been alive. I'll be there soon."

Ultra Girl had cried herself to sleep in the big leather recliner in my breakroom. I gathered the cocoa mug from her and pulled the knit throw up around her shoulders. I would need to buy more hard candies, the girl had demolished my supply.

It really was a shame the things some folks do. Sure, I would rob a bank, or hold a city hostage in a heartbeat. But I was just getting my due from a society of pathetic drones.

I would never dream of treating my own flesh and blood like this. In my books that was crime far worse than all the ones I was about to commit.

I pulled the phone off its hook in the kitchen and checked my book for the number of one of my younger associates. Someone competent, but not particularly perceptive for this one.

"Yes, Blackjack, it's Dr. Devious. I have some work for you... yes, yes I can pay extra for the short notice... I need two people killed."

I listed off the details of the job and hashed out the fees.

"Remember Blackjack, don't make a mess or leave any evidence. And I do need the bodies... oh, also, there should be the remains of a dog on the property as well. I need those... no, I don't think I will tell you what this is about."

I hung up after getting a grudging ascent.

"Nibbles, go get the cloning vats fired up, and activate one of the Devious Bots. I'm going to need to send it out to complete a deal tonight."

The calico gave me the gimmlet eye before climbing out of Ultra Girl's lap and stalking off to do his job.

I rooted around through my small closet armory.

"Oh, I know you're here somewhere you piece of junk... aha, got you!."

I pulled out the heavy and clunky memory redactor. Quite a useless thing in most cases. No matter how much memory you erased, it seems like heroes always had some loving connection waiting in the wings to jog their memories right in the nick of time.

I wasn't worried about that in this case.

"Don't worry dear, just a little off the top, and you will wake up in your happy home, with your supportive parents and loving dog."

There are many questions circling around my mind at this moment. There are usually questions. One did not rise to my position without a healthy element of... wary curiousity. Or paranoia, if you wanted to be blunt about it.

They say it's not paranoia if they're out to get you though, and there are no shortage of enemies when you list your occupation as 'Supervillain' on your tax forms - and when you've lasted as long as I have, it doesn't get any shorter.

So questions such as 'How did you get this number?' and 'Why in the Nine Hells are you calling me?' are perfectly reasonable. Some might question why I even have a phone, but it's the twenty first century. Get with the times or get gone.

I can't say this isn't the first phone call I've answered where the other person is an inconsolable mess of tears though, which at least helped me figure out what was going on.

"Stop," I commanded, using my 'I Am A Very Dangerous Person And You Should Listen To Me' voice. I don't have a gentler setting - it's not something I've looked into. "Breathe. From the beginning. I know you are capable of that much."

The voice on the other end lets out a ragged, hiccuping sob. "They killed Ace-"

"Which one? Ace of Spades, Ace Hart, the Amazing Ace-"

"No! My dog!"

I blinked. "And 'they' are...?"

"My... folks. They... I forgot to-to load the dishwasher and they just-they said if I couldn't be responsible for that then clearly I couldn't take care of him so they just-"

I pinched the bridge of my nose, silently glad I wasn't wearing my mask. I rarely did when I was in my lair. Not that I had much of a secret identity to preserve - the mask was part of the costume. The persona. It's harder to be taken seriously without it.

"-then they found my-some stuff and said if I was going to be a f-that they couldn't raise someone like me and-"

Silently, I gestured for a familiar to fetch me a drink, and after a small bow, she moved along.

"-just didn't know who else to turn to and I know it's ridiculous and stupid and insane but... can I... stay... at your lair?"

Silently, calmly, I hit the 'Mute' button my mobile so I could let out a long, frustrated noise without him hearing me. Satisfied I'd expressed myself, I took a moment to compose myself once again, and unmuted. "You. Want to stay at my lair. My hidden lair. My hidden lair of villainy. You. My lair."

"... Is that a no? Do I-I need to make a contract? I... can..."

"What? No! For the love of-I do not make contracts with children."

"... I'm fifteen."

"I know how old you are!" Were it not for the enchantments I'd placed on the phone, it would probably be shattered in my grip right now. "The human brain doesn't finish developing until your twenties, at the earliest and that is hardly the point of contention here!" I took a slow, calming breath. "I categorically refuse to believe I am your only option. Frankly, I refuse to believe you're even considering this as an option."

"... I tried everyone else. The Federation just said I should talk to my parents that I should work things out but they don't want to work things out! They won't even talk to me now, and if I try to go back, they just shout at me!"

"You have your meddlesome little friends."

"None of them can help even if they wanted to. Kiraz doesn't even have a home - she just... floats in space."

Right. Her. Frustrating little alien thing but fascinating powers... not the point. "Shelters."

"I... don't really feel comfortable there. What if I get harassed? I don't want to use my powers or anything against normal people and-"

I'm not considering it. I'm not. We're on opposite sides. We're enemies. I've half killed him, and he's done the same to me. But a little part of me will never forget being cold, hungry and alone. Well. A large part of me, really.

"... I'm going to send you an address. There will be rules. We are not 'friends'. We are not 'roommates'. And when we meet in the field, we will be enemies. Do you understand?"

"Thankyouthankyouthank-"

I hit the End Call button. Honestly. What has the world come to, that the Tyrant Devil is playing babysitter to the incarnation of Barachiel?

I didn't recognize him over the phone, not until I ran a scan of his number, finding it connected a an online account that had a profile attached. 14 years old.

Lionhart, boy wonder, popping out a year ago and taking the city by storm with a carefree, fun little attitude. I swear my boys were going easy on him, always reporting back how goddamn small he was, and that what ever veteran hero popped him out hadnt trained him well, his fighting style was inconsistent. Some days, he seemed to be a master at hand to hand, then the next encounter it was like he had never thrown a punch before.

The Brat just gave me his entire identity up on a silver platter. So I thought I could entertain him while I sent my boys his coordinates. I haven't interacted much with him, not had any reason to. I was "retired."

"How long have you had my personal number?" I said, putting my champagne glass on it's coaster, or I would have my entire ass handed to me for staining the mahogany table.

"Pulled it from one of your friends burner phones from a month back."

Christ, he sounded younger then 14, that made sense, his birthday was only a week prior. Huh.

"I didn't have anyone else to call." His voice cracked, not in the way a teenagers did. There was a heavy, wet sigh.

He was crying.

I felt a pinprick in my heart, and maybe it would bleed a speck of black blood. It was pathetic, like a kitten mewling.

"Take a moment." There was heavy breathing on the end, what sounded like he was wiping his nose. I had his account IP pinged for an address. Somewhere in the west suburbs. Not the best place to live. Drug dens, school districts with a classroom to prisoners pipeline the highest in the country.

"My mum killed Sammy." He said, and I frowned. I had a profile for the kid, trying to figure out his parents. Some heroes quietly retire. Some died. If any of them had kids that grew up and found their parents spandex pajamas in the attic no one would be aware of them.

My working theory was dead hero parent, but making a name for himself- but that was called into question.

"And who is Sammy." I asked, not sounding curious, but to keep the conversation going. He could realize at any moment he had made a massive mistake and hang up and run.

It was already too late, but it made it easier for me.

"My- she was my dog." He said. "I had her since I was 7. She was my best friend."

My questions on his legacy could go unanswered for now. I had been careful not to wake my old boy up, a bulldog, dense as a brick in body and brain, snoring next to me on the couch. A soft spot had been poked.

"I- I forgot to put the trash out- I was tired, I was just tired, and it was garbage day and it wasn't picked up, and mum said "You're not going to forget again." And while I was at school she took Sammy to the vet and had her put down."

And the tears started up again, I had to turn him down as Sonya entered the living room. One "this is not a good time" look from me had her cringe and turn back around.

It gave me time to look through my intel, and found that his phone was pinging from a bus station.

"Is that why you're at a busstop with a backpack that looks like it's got your clothes in it?" I asked.

He didn't say anything, as if figuring out that yes, with my vast array of connections, I could hack a nearby security camera to see him sitting on a curb.

Bus stations in the west suburbs had a tendency to have homeless people break in and sleep in the buses at night, something that the council had tried to crack down on.

"No." He said, bitterly. "It's cause they found out I liked a guy."

I felt like I had been slapped.

It was like I was 14 again. The entire class finding out I was gay, the pain bombs in my locket, my parents becoming stricter and the only reason I wasn't sent to a conversion camp was my grandma would have disowned them entirely.

"I mean, I don't even know if I like him, I just- I was tagged in a photo with him and my parents saw it and thought that just cause he was gay, mean that I was Iean I am but- when I didn't deny it, Bill started to throw my shit around the house, and they threw me out. He broke my school laptop, and there's a break fee, and the schools not going to let me borrow books unless I pay it back-"

He was worrying about all the wrong things. And looking through the kids instagram- that doing photo of him just side hugging this other kid with dyed hair, "future roommates" as a caption- had been a week ago on his birthday.

I sighed. The needle he hand managed to stab into my chest caused a tear. "In about five minutes, a black car with tinted windows is going to turn up to your location."

"Wait-"

"They're not gonna hurt you, Jack might hold a grudge but theyre not going to hurt you." I said. "Just get in and they're bring you to my penthouse, clear your head, get you off the streets."

"I didn't call you ask to stay with you."

"Too bad, don't hit Jack again he's sensitive." "I mean, you can be gone by the time he gets there, or you can get out of the cold. I have a fireplace, and a few spare rooms. It won't be forever. Just until you figure out what you're doing."

Sonya didn't pretend she wasn't listening in when she heard me hang up. "Are we expecting a guest?" She sat next to me- technically next to Bingo snorted at being disturbed, but didn't move.

"Yeah." I said. " Better under watch."

"Oh shut up "Miss Terry"." She smiled. "You're going soft."

40 years, retired. None of those vetren heroes could ever pin me down, but Sonya did. I enjoyed calling heroes out for homophobia and making them jump in thr media circus and they fumbled their words.

I couldn't pretend this was pure kindness. Lionhart was an in. He could be an asset if played my cards right.

But first, a 14 year old gay kid needed to get out of the late autumn night, get a meal inside him and have a good sleep.

"Look, Phoenix, I can help you, but there's the fact that I'm a literal villain, and you're a literal hero. You'll be in danger if you stay with me, you know that right?" Elsie, also known as Circe, was just baffled. She wasn't even sure how the kid had even gotten her number, but she felt such pity for the girl. She knew what it was like, after all.

"I'll always be in danger, Circe. Please." Was all the young girl said, and despite the fact she was a villain, Elsie's heart broke, because she knew that this girl and her were so alike.

A sigh left Elsie's lips, and she glanced over to her wife who was listening in while she was cooking them dinner. Their eyes met, and her reaction said it all. "Okay kid, I'm coming to pick you up. Where are you at?" When Phoenix told her the address, Elsie smiled. "I'll be there in ten. Keep safe for me, yeah?"

"Yes ma'am." Phoenix whispered, and hung up, leaving Elsie to stare at her phone for a few moments.

"First Jackson, now Phoenix. You really get yourself roped up into protecting these kids, don't you Elsie?" Delilah smirked over at her wife who groaned and flipped her off, which only made Delilah laugh. Silence encompassed them for a few moments.

"I can't just leave them like that, you know that." Elsie finally spoke up, and Delilah's eyes softened.

"I know, love. I know." Silence again.

"I'll go get her, I love you." Elsie whispered, and Delilah smiled.

"Love you too." And with a golden flash, Elsie was gone from the living room.

Dunno how to end this, but I hope this was an okay read for everyone. My second story on here!

Part 1 - A Cold Night

By day I'm a therapist, Dr. Melancholy. I work with powered and non-powered people to help them cope with their life struggles and have a strong focus on LGBT+ matters. I live with my wife Alexandria and our trans girlfriend Phoebe. But right now, I am on an important phone call with a young girl.

"Whoa, whoa. Slow down, Kelly. Take a few deep breaths. Draw in for four seconds, hold for six seconds, and release for four seconds. Do that a few times first so we can try to calm you down." I'd already thrown my hoodie on as the cold is blistering in the dead of night. Especially in upper Vermont.

I heard the girl do as instructed. My wife was the tech head of the family and she was following beside me as we got in the car and drove off. We were tracking Kelly's location by IP.

From what I understood, her parents killed her dog and kicked her out of the house. I don't have the why for either, but soon will.

"Kelly, how're you feeling, sweetie?" I heard her breathing start to even out. "We are on the way. Another five minutes and we will be at the bus stop. You can tell us the rest when we get there."

"Please... Stay on the phone with me..." I could hear her sniffling over the phone. "I don't want to be alone right now... I-it's s-s-s-o c-c-c-cold..." I grew concerned as I heard her teeth chattering as she spoke.

"It's alright, we're about to round the corner." While I was calm on the outside, inside me was a bubbling rage, hotter than any inferno. I may be a supervillain, a monster to some. But I'm not heartless.

My wife and I rounded the corner and both gasped in shock. Kelly was in nothing more than a tank top and shorts.

We lept out of the car and rushed over to her and tossed a couple of blankets over her. My rage was near the tipping point, but we needed to get her to a hospital first. We ushered her into the car as quickly as we could.

"Kelly..." I looked back at the girl. Her skin was changing colors as hypothermia began to set in. She didn't appear to be awake either. "Alexandria, hospital, quickly."

It only took us five minutes at the speed we went. We rushed her into the ER and filled out the basics based on her driver's license. We were told to wait in the lobby as we were not her parents, foster parents, or legal guardians.

End part 1

Life is ironic.

Look, I get it. The universe is big one ironic punishments, and so on, but this is ridiculous. The Hero living with the villain as his ward? This is an absolute disaster waiting to happen... But this is what I am living...

Worst part, is that I did it under my own will...

He came one night. Dry tears in his face, bruised and dirty... He was beaten by something or someone.

A loud knock in the door of my citadel, the guard lets him in... I must fire that guard for that security breach...

And so I have in front of me the soiled and crying hero, the destined one that will put an end to my “villainy”.

Between sobs he explains me everything. He, as the hero, ends tired from fighting my armies and independent creatures that roam the surroundings of his village; and so ends tired. But some people do not understand that...

He mentions his parents. And my stomach drops... I wish to believe that they aren’t related to this situation...

But again, the universe loves to defy our hopes and expectations.

They wanted him to harvest the wheat fields, at those hours in the night.

What?

Who in their right mind do that?

And he continues saying that he would do that first hour in the morning. And it is a sensible idea, I admit.

Seems that being sensible is now reserved to the villains.

Those oafs kill the poor partner of the young man in front of me. A dog...

I feel one nerve about to snap, and then the young man serves me another horrid truth bomb.

He breaks in tears in front of them, because of the love he felt for that canine. He adopted it when it was a pup. And the parents take it as weakness.

After doing, morosely, the chore; he comes back... to find his father with a belt.

I can hear the confusion in the poor man’s voice... He didn’t do anything wrong to deserve punishment. But again, the universe loves defying our expectations.

The young man kept one little secret. He was in love... But there was no fair maiden that had smitten him. No, it was another boy. I believe that he gave the name of his right hand.

Personally, I couldn’t care any less... I want to put order, not install the most ridiculous restrictions in the lives of every person in the world. But this?

To beat you progeny, only because you don’t understand who they love? Or why they love?

... I will have to pencil a public torture of those dimwits...

But on pressing matters, what should I do with the young man?

Kill him? Imprison him?

I choose none... And for one, I feel like an absolute idiot. But again, this is ironic...

I am the one protecting the hero from their moronic parents...

It’s nearly two in the morning when my phone rings. I frown, it’s set to do not disturb. The only calls that could come through must be emergencies. I’ve been up all night working on my latest weapon, I am NOT in the mood to speak to anyone, but for some reason I answer the phone regardless. “What.” I hiss, clearly displeased that I’ve been disturbed. What I hear next though, is a surprise.

“H-hi, I’m so sorry for this, I just… I just need someone right now. Um, you’re Cobra, right?” Almost every other word is interrupted with a sniffle or small cry.

“Yes… I’d assume you’d know that if you have this number. Who am I speaking to that’s calling me at this hour, crying?”

“Um, it’s Pristine. I um, I know we’ve never fought before, and I got your number through someone else, so you’re kinda my only chance right now. I’m so sorry, I just- I don’t have anyone else to ask. My parents kicked me out and killed my dog, I need somewhere to go. Can I stay with you? I promise I won’t interrupt any of your stuff or bother you or try to fight you- I promise! I just… I don’t want to be on the streets.”

Pristine, a new hero from what I remember. Young, bold, cocky. She always had some sort of one liner or witty remark, a trademark of young and hubristic heroes. But here she’s completely different. She’s meek and quiet, quite literally begging me to take her in. It catches me so off guard I’m silent for a second. “You… you’re asking me to let you stay with me?”

“I am.” She confirms. “There’s no one else I can turn to, it’s just you. I understand why you wouldn’t, but- but- I’m so lost right now, I don’t have any other options. Am I repeating myself? I’m sorry.” She babbles apologies for a little longer before I cut her off.

“Where are you? I’ll come and get you. We’ll set some ground rules when you’re safe with a roof over your head. Hang tight, alright? Just don’t… don’t do anything stupid.” I fight to quell the rage burning in me. She’s just a child, all things considered. A child who’s pet was murdered and who was kicked out of her home, the place she’s supposed to be safest. It’s dangerous on the streets, no place for someone like her, even with her powers. I track her location from the call and set off, making a note to pay a visit to her parents. Who knows, maybe I’ll wind up with a sidekick?

"Kid, I feel for your situation, but I'm called Grammar Nazi for a reason. Call Mama Pancake. She has a thing for stories like yours."

I passed along her public number and hung up, throwing up as the urge to correct The Illiterate Kid swelled up without an outlet.

It hurts...it hurts so much. He was my Nemesis, and his rambling always got the better of me. Using they, them when referring to everyone had started as a ploy, but I always figured there was more to it. Not that I could help him, given who and what I was. Did he really think after all that I was the one he should reach out to?

Probably, but then he was a tool. Also, pretty sure his dog was a robot built by his dad's company. Bit of a drama queen, getting upset by a tomagachi with extra steps.

No matter as Pancake would sort him out. She was far more than just bulging muscle.

Once everything was out, I cleaned up and drank some water before sitting down in a meditative pose. It was important to review any poor grammar during stressful conversations and forgive myself. Mental health is important. Besides, my doctor said she was proud of my progress, and that gave me joy.

For a moment I considered a foreign idea...and why not? Kid was under stress as well and shooting him with deadly invective didn't seem called for.

I sighed for myself only a few times before starting the breathing exercises...

"Is this a prank, Leonhart?" I asked, after hearing the story that pathetic kid hero, Leonhart, had told me by the phone.

"No... please... I need help" Leonhart was blubbering. He was cold, hungry and desperate. I knew that feeling oh too well... I'm not exactly the kind of guy who went into villainy out of psychopathy after all.

"Why me?" I asked. "You have a league, right?"

"They... their base is on space, the pods only go up and down by day, I just need a place to stay tonight and then I'll go away..." Leonhart says.

"Why me?" I ask again. But it's for another reason. "I torture your friends and league partners with mind rape on a weekly basis just because they get in my way. Why would you ever trust me?"

"I don't know... ever since we met, I felt like... you looked like a grandpa. I miss mine. He was a good man. After he died, I was left with them. And now they kicked me out"

Ouch. I became a mafia boss, but I was unusually nice, I only did lesser crimes and made sure to only harm the guilty. It was after I lost my wife and my infant son that I grew colder and into the terrain of supervillainy, with genetic experiments and illegal mutations on the guys on my payroll. I had the wish everyone has of being a parent and then a grandparent taken away from me by some rival mafia, and now this hero kid who should hate my guts confesses that he's calling me after his world crumbled around him because he sees me as grandpa material. I grip my phone and mutter.

"I'm geolocalizing you. A black car will arrive soon after. You'll stay with me, but you have to leave the League" I say. The kid goes silent. "Relax, I won't force you to dabble into my illegal businesses. You'll just quit being a superhero and turn into a regular kid that just happens to have powers"

"Why?" The kid asked.

"How do you expect to save a world that won't even give you the time of day?" I ask, knowing damn too well that this was the question I gave myself when I lost Dalia and Ken.

"Because that way I'll make a world that welcomes everyone with open arms" The kid says.

Damn. That almost makes me not want to pick him up.

Almost.

Perhaps I'm just a bit raw because of the "grandpa" comment.

When he called the Crimson Tide, he didn't know if there would be a response. It was late at night, not that that mattered much to villains and heroes. If they were lucky, it might mean no spectators.

As he wiped blood and tears from his cheek and donned his elegant mask, the young Tiger made a silent wish for luck that night. Somehow the scales had to balance. He'd fought too hard to give in softly.

"Meet me in the grove of ghosts, at the boulder that reflects the light of the moon. This all ends here."

That was all he'd said in the call. Now he prowled between trees barely visible against the night sky, face quivering and thoughts dangerously silent. This all ends.

The details of their battle mattered little, for the location and time ensured no spectators. The Crimson Tide waited for him, as she always did. He had never fought a battle alone, and quickly found himself in the air and trapped within the long ribbons of her cloak, slowly tightening around his neck. He could still speak, if he wanted to. He said nothing.

"Someone hurt youuu," the Crimson Tide echoed.

"If you're going to kill me just do it."

Her face was hidden, but she drew closer. "No."

A tear squirmed its way down his cheek, squirming hopelessly as the ribbons bit into his skin.

Then she let go, and he dropped to the ground. He became aware of her figure towering over him, crimson cloak shining softly in the moonlight.

"Hurt them back." She extended a hand - a real, human hand, coated in glove but no cloth tendrils. "Join us."

The Tiger looked up. He took the hand.

In a dark corner of a large room sits a small end table of what appears to be black wood.

On that end table sits an old red rotary-style telephone.

It starts to ring.

On the other side of the large catacomb decorated room a 30 something looking man raises his head and looks at the phone curiously. By the middle of the second ring he is by the phone picking it up and putting it to his ear with a puzzled look on his face.

" 'Allo?"

A short silence, followed by a sobbing rambling monologue that the man can only catch a few words of, "parents.... chore..... killed.... throwing...... gay...."

He raises his left eyebrow in puzzled recognition of that voice. 'Let's see, it's a young female. Don't know too many of those. Hmm, doesn't sound like Crimson Slaughter's daughter, or Death Trap's niece.'

"Mr. Void, are you there?" The voice asks tremulously.

"I'm here Starburst." That's right that annoying new Heroine. "Can you please repeat that, slower this time?"

"Um, my parents told me to clean my room yesterday afternoon, right before I left to patrol the city." She paused for a moment gathering her strength for the next few sentences. "After I got back from patrol, I found a note on my door, saying that what awaits in my room is the consequences for not doing my chore. I walked in and saw they had killed..." her voice stopped for a few seconds, "rascal, my dog. I, i think i fell to my knees. I don't know how long I sat there staring, but, when I looked up to where all my pictures used to hang, I noticed everything was gone, all my stuff. There was another note pinned to the wall, 'there will be no homosexuals in this house, your stuff is in the dumpster where you belong.' I tried to dial the other Heros, but they all said that they can't be seen helping someone like me. I remembered you had mentioned your phone line was the first in the area last week during our fight near that cemetery and I just tried the lowest phone number, and you answered. I don't know who else to turn to..." she said not quite as quickly as before.

He sighed, 'Over 3000 years of cultural, societal, and human evolution and this still happens.' "You remember the symbol on my cloak?"

"Yes... I think so?" She answered cautiously.

"I need you to draw that symbol on the back wall of your closet, in both your blood and your dog's blood, and then knock on the symbol 4 times."

She gasped as she realised she would have cut her beloved pet to get to the blood.

"And bring your dog too." He said right before he hung up.

He gave minimal thought as to how Starburst would react to the portal that minor ritual would open, or the fact that it would lead her straight to the workshop he was standing in, or the experiments and... remains of his... 'willing' volunteers strewn about said workshop. He concentrated, drew some blood from a finger, and wrote a small, complicated, set of symbols, that he had used far too often for his liking. The symbols glowed an eldritch dark blood red before a Door appeard in the wall near the phone. He slowly walked over to it and opened the door. Inside was a bedroom that wouldn't be out of place in any upscale American home. It was minimally decorated in neutral but warm calming colours. The Queen sized bed had a set of small stairs on one side, perfect for pets that couldn't jump up onto the bed.

As he was inspecting the room to make sure all the furniture had formed properly there was a loud gasp and a small hiccup/sob from his workshop.

"In here Starburst." He called not even bothering to turn around.

After a few minutes he heard small shuffling noises behind him. He turned around and saw that Starburst was cowering near the doorframe, holding her dead dog closely in her arms.

"Come in and sit on the bed." Void said in a calming tone.

Starburst looked fearfully at him, then his workshop and then back at him. "...."

He sighed, 'I guess I forgot to clean things up a bit out there.' He slowly raised his left hand, "I swear upon my existence that I will not intentionally harm you while you are under my protection except in self defense." His body flashed an eldritch blood red.

Starburst slowly entered the bedroom and gingerly sat in the bed. "What happens now?" She asked, obviously frightened of the things she saw in the workshop.

"Now, I retire for a bit, again. And before you ask why, the reason is, I'm going to be raising you until you are healed from this well enough to live your own life."

"Why?" She asked, worried and a bit confused.

"Those things that gave birth to you and killed, at least temporarily if you let me, your dog, are not going to be enjoying, well, the afterlife. I have a low tolerance for certain things. Like what has happened to you for example." He said gently.

Starburst started to nod in understanding before realising what he said about her dog, "Wait, what do you mean, temporarily if I let you?"

Void nodded, "You have seen some of my powers when we fought near the cemetery. I can bring your dog back to life, well, as a zombie dog, for the rest of either your life or what would have been the rest of its life."

Starburst gaped and sat stock still.

"I'll give you till tomorrow to think about it. Try to get some sleep." He turned around and walked out, gently closing the door.

THE END, maybe.

Aphrodite wasn't always a vigilante, following Hephaistos' every step, always ready to get them out from the cliches of heroes.

They were a hero once, two years prior. His mentor was Hypnos, and man, they were gratefull gor the snovett hero. Hypnos was kind and understanding, helping them with everything he could. He was the first one they came out to, and he was always so supportive! But the agency had him under an iron grip, the number one and two heroes, Hellas and Nyx, his supposed best friends made him do bad things with his pover. Make villains defendless, absolutely at the agency's mercy. If they had known what Aphrodite's real pover was, they would have kept him under their mindful wach, too.

But Hypnos made everyone believe that they could only teleport short distances, with no one but themselves.

Aphrodite loved Hypnos like a father figure, but he couldn't go to him on that fateful night. It was raining, and he was standing in the middle of the street with a luggage, containing every one of their possesions.

It was a favour they called in, one gained by saving Zephyrus, a villain, from falling debrees, given to them by no other than prometheus himself.

Aphrodite's name wasn't always Aphrodite either. The name was given by Prometheus, who accepted them into his home, like they were his own child.

Aphrodite long forgot their old name or their parents. They, however, call Prometheus dad behind closed doors, and Hypnos pops. They try to get the two to go on a date to stop the embarrassing and cringy flirting while the two fought.

It never worked so far, but they, their boyfriend Hephaistos, and that other annoying vigilante who is involved for some reason will never give up.

"A necessity, Richard. Yes, yes, Rick, I'm aware of the repercussions but it needs to happen. Look, look, Rick - if the balloons aren't ready by noon, Lila's party will be the worse for it, so you will hang up that goddamn phone and get them. Cancel every meeting you have today if you need to, Rick. She's a valued and loyal employee, and she hasn't had a birthday party without balloons a single year with us. You want to break an eleven-year-streak?"

I sighed. "Good. Thank you, Richard. You're a dear."
Walking along the porch of my home, I fielded other confirmational texts from employees - it was 11:16, and we were almost finished the party preparations.

My phone rang.

"This is Delilah Sescilies, how may I help you?"

Lady Luck, it's me, it's me, Samson Weathers. I - I need your help.

"Mr. Weathers, I laid you out cold over the Arrowhead Enterprises skyscraper not a week ago. What could possibly possess you to come to me for help?"

My mother . . . she shot down my dog.

"And . . . what? Did she also spit at a dying baby? Your dog's dead now, kid. What do you expect me to tell you? I'm many things, but a Cleric I am not. Get a new one."

I . . . I'd like to come live with you. Please.

"Samson, I feel obligated to ask. Have you taken or been in close or extended contact with recreational drugs within the last few hours?"

No Ma'am. I would like to come live with you. You're practically the only one in this godforsaken city I know. I need a place to stay.

"Do you not live with your parents? What, has their house been foreclosed?"

No, Ma'am. They kicked me out of the house.

"What, for a day? A week? Just book a fucking hotel! What are you bothering me for? I'm busy."

I'm not sure you understand, Ma'am. They kicked me out because I came out to them. I thought they'd be understanding, or at least outright hostile, but apparently being a Good Christian involves being wicked to everyone else.

". . . Darling . . . Very well. Come on down. Bring as much as you can sneak out of your personal effects. I'll buy whatever else you need."

It took a moment. Samson Weathers hung up the phone, and a few seconds later, he was standing on the porch with me, holding a diminutive cardboard box.

His voice had been relatively steady over the phone, but in person he looked broken. His bottom lip quivered and his face was a red blotchy mess. He stiffened into my embrace, flinching as I kissed him on the forehead.

I looked him in the eye. "We don't fight anymore. You're my baby now. Understood?"

He nodded, sniffling. "Yes, Ma'am."

"Ah-ah. No. Delilah. You call me Delilah. Mrs. Sescilies in formal company. You are in my care now, not my employ."

At his nod, I turned, walking off of the porch and into the house, motioning for him to follow. "Speaking of which, we have a party to organize."

Part one:

The ringing of the phone woke me from my slumber far earlier than usual. I glanced at the time, it read 4am. I had only gotten two hours sleep, so I was half tempted to ignore the ringing and go back to bed. But some nagging feeling told me ignoring this call might actually haunt me.

I pick up the phone and the first thing I hear is crying and whimpering.

“Whoever you are you better have a damn good reason for calling me at 4am.” I growl into the phone.

The somewhat familiar voice on the other end responds to my threat in a way I did not expect.

“Eternas the Destroyer, it’s.. this is Faeblade..” my most recent young heroic foes voice is interrupted by sniffles and barely restrained sobs.

“Faeblade? Why are you calling me? And how did you get my number? And why are you crying?”

I left the question as to why the intrepid hero would be calling at such an early hour unsaid. I may look like I am in my early 30’s but I have been alive for centuries. As a result I have enough life experience to know when something extremely serious is going on. And every fiber of my villainous immortal body sensed something extremely serious had happened to Faeblade.

The young teenage heroes sobs slow, anguish filled their voice once more echoes through my ears. “It’s my parents. I have been busy saving the city and fighting you so I failed to finish my daily chores. My grades have also suffered, and my dad is extremely strict. After our fight today I came home and found Lucky, you know him as FaeHound, dead from multiple iron based gunshot wounds. My father had just..sniff..dumped Lucky’s body on my bed.”

You caress the photo lovingly as a tear threatens to drip from the corner of your eye. Power is useless if everything you love is taken. The phone rings, breaking you from your thoughts. As it rings again you blink and cock your head. Intrigue sets in, and you set down the photograph.

Very few are privy to this number, and of them only a select few would dare call it. Being one of the oldest villains, it doesn’t come as a surprise that everyone fears you. The younger generation even have named you Chronos when you harnessed the sands of time. Reaching over, you pick up the phone from its cradle.

“Yes?” You answer, curiosity growing.

“Is this Chronos?” A wavery feminine voice comes over the line. Odd you don’t recognize her voice, but you decide to give her the benefit of the doubt. Anyone who gets this number has the right to be heard. You run your hands over an ornate hourglass on the table, loving the way the Victorian grooves feel in between your fingers. You pick it up and then redirect your attention to the call.

“You have two minutes to capture my attention before I hang up.” You pause for a moment, before gracefully turning the hourglass over, watching the stark white sand spill through the bottleneck.

This was not the voice of one of the other villains. There was something familiar about this voice, but you can’t quite place it.

“Please don’t hang up, you have to help me.” A sob escapes over the phone.

“I am a villain; I am not in the business of helping people.”

“You somehow got the wrong number, find a hero if you need help.”

“I am a hero though!” You feel your left eyebrow slowly raise, as if caught with a fishhook.

“Oh, a hero calls me. What even makes you think I will help a hero, I am a villain after all.”

“…Selene told me to…” You sit forward, resting on your elbow, you wave your fingers and the sand in the hourglass slows to a halt as another sob escapes the phone. Your eyes focus on the photo.

“How do you know that name.” Anxiety funnels into your being and the grains of sand begin to dance erratically inside the hourglass. The sobs get louder, and your patience grows thin.

“You don’t seem to understand, I kill heroes. Tell me how you know that name or so help me…” rage boils inside you as you trail off.

“She loved me…” and just like that, the fire in your soul was doused by a freezing revelation. You know this voice, and of course, how could you ever forget? This was her voice.

“What do you need?” A gruff answer, barely conveying the muted cacophony of emotions echoing inside your soul.

“I don’t know! My family…they killed my dog, the one Selene got for me.” You feel the phone crack under your tightening fist.

“Why?” You barely contain yourself as you bite through your lip. You are retired, you don’t kill the innocent. She made you promise not to.

“I didn’t finish my chores.” Crash The hourglass shatters as you grind your teeth together.

“…when they found out I was gay… they kicked me out” She sobs again, and you hear her voice grow hoarse from the effort. Your lip curls up in disgust.

“Please, can I stay with you? I don’t have anywhere else to go!” She moans through the phone. You eye the picture and see Selene’s smile staring back at you.

“I can’t wait to have her meet you one day!” You close your eyes, as a tear falls. Selene’s final words, tug at your heart cord as they ring in your ears. With a heavy sigh you collect yourself, raising your hand as the hourglass reforms.

“Do you know of the Crawford Estate down on fourth?”

“Yes, but no one is allowed on the grounds.”

“Be there in two hours, someone will be here to let you in.”

“But what are you---” You hang up, reaching over and picking up the picture.

“Selene … I loved you. You wanted me to be a better man, to stop killing. For years I stayed in the background.” You stroke the photograph affectionately. A soft smile works it’s way onto your face, but it quickly falls into a grimace. You clench and unclench your fist and shake your head.

“Time has been harsh, and now to preserve the love that you had for her…I will make your love’s life better. I will provide for her the way you would have.” You set the image down in the center of the table, kissing your fingers before you press them over her smiling face. You stand up straight, tightening your fist as you do.

“But first I must make sure that they pay for what they have done.” The glass shatters as you turn on your heel and march to the door. Stopping, you place one hand on the door jamb, turning back and locking eyes with the picture again.

“I failed you, but I will not fail her, even if I have to break that promise to you.” You leave with a scowl, cutting across your face, but inside you feel your power bubble with excitement and a viscous smile breaks across your face. “I am going to thoroughly enjoy this.”

Welcome to the Prompt! All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.

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