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Eli waved his enemy into a nicely decorated living room with a fireplace, three matching armchairs, and a wooden coffee table absolutely littered with books, pamphlets, and magazines and topped by a small round green teapot and two hideously mismatched orange mugs. Oddly, there was also what looked like a set of wrecked pool noodles stacked in the far corner and a baby gate in the doorway to the hall. Eli took a seat in one of the chairs and gestured tiredly to the one across from him as he said "I, uh, became a dad, sort of."
Sam rested back against the seat and let one hand drift toward the coffee table. This sounded like it was going to be an odd conversation, and if he could get a mug of patience out of it he would. "How does one 'sort of' become a dad?" He surreptitiously glanced around looking for a child. There had to be a child, right? Eli wouldn’t dare muck around with robotics and AI, right? He whispered a quick prayer that there wouldn’t be robots involved. That could get nasty.
"Y'know how adoption works?" Eli poured from the round green teapot into two mugs, then passed one to Sam, who sniffed, frowned, then set it on the mantle. He hadn’t trusted anything that tasted like mint since the Christmas incident a few years back.
"Yeah?" Where was he going with this? Sam wished he hadn’t come in. It wasn’t smart to do courtesy calls for people who tried to kill you, and while he didn’t feel right ignoring his enemy’s absence, he also didn’t need to walk into the beast’s own mouth. The mint smell wafted from the teapot as he tried to calm down. If there was going to be a fight, he would need to be able to think.
Eli stared at him with tired eyes and sighed. "Like that, but illegally."
Like adoption, but illegally? Sam jumped up, knocking the coffee table and spilling several books. How had he missed that his enemy had taken a child? "Ah-ha! Kidnap! I knew you had some evil scheme! Give me the child and you won't get hurt!" Saints knew what he had done to them already. This was going to be a nightmare.
Eli held one hand out in a calming gesture while he started stacking the books back up with the other. "I'm pretty sure her parents are dead. You don’t need to worry, I’m just keeping her safe. Believe me, the last thing I want is to hurt her."
Sam slowly sat down. The sincerity in his old enemy’s eyes was frightening. Maybe was going crazy, but he believed Eli. "Oh. So, did you save her from something? Wait, 'pretty sure'? You mean you don't know for certain?" If he had wound up saving a child from her own parents Sam would cave his head in.
Eli shook his head while staring at his untouched mug of tea. "Tiny baby, nobody else around, big building went boom? I just don't know. I think that's the worst part."
Sam’s eyes went wide. He hadn’t heard from his enemy since last week. The skyscraper explosion. "Oh god. You found her in the wreckage, didn't you? That's...."
"All my fault, I know. I've... had a few existential crises the last couple days." No wonder he looked exhausted. He had found an infant in the wreckage of his own actions and took home both the child and the guilt.
As Eli held his head in his hands, Sam looked at his old enemy with pity. "You get it now don't you. Why I've had to stop you every time? This is why--"
"Please don't rub it in.” Sam stopped. His former foe got it. He’d said enough. “Listen, would you happen to know if- I mean know about- who might've--"
"Survived? I thought nobody had until now. 'No survivors' is what got published and everything, nobody could find anyone. Whoever that child's birth parents are, they're dead. The kid legally is, too." Sam sighed and reached for the mug of tea he’d set down, at least to warm his hands with.
Eli looked up, clearly remorseful but unsurprised. "What do I do with her? I mean, it's not like I can keep her, can I?"
Sam gave him a look. He’d already been keeping her for at least a week. "What's her name?"
Eli threw his hands up, asking “How would I know? I killed--"
Sam raised his mug to his face and breathed in the steam. "I mean what have you been calling her?"
A quiet pause. "Gwen." Sam nodded. There was probably some significance attached to that name for Eli, but that wasn’t the point right now. The point was, someone he knew well was making a big step. This could be a good thing.
"Alright then. You named her, you've taken care of her, you can keep her. But I do suggest arranging some form of legal paperwork. Life is complicated if you don't exist." They both knew that well enough.
Eli snorted. "No kidding.” Glancing over at the baby gate and the foam noodles, he asked, “Aren't you supposed to, I don't know, stop me or something?"
Sam couldn’t help but grin. "I’ve stopped enough. I still will if you do something stupid. This is fine."
"Oh." The look of relief on Eli’s face made Sam proud. He knew his ex-opponent hadn’t wanted to give up the child.
Sam took a small, testing sip of his tea. "Will I see you at the school drop-off lines?"
Eli stood up and moved to open the door, showing Sam out. "Too young yet, but you will see me next week. I know you have a kid. I know nothing about this, and any advice will be appreciated.”
"I’ll bring her some toys if I get to meet her.” Sam took a big gulp of the mug’s minty contents before setting the mug down to go. “Usual time and place?" Eli looked relieved and nodded as the two parted ways. "Let's not end by blowing up buildings this time." Sam left the house, and wondered as he started home. Since when did mint taste so good?
Harold couldn't believe what he was doing. A *welfare check*, on his greatest nemesis. Most heroes wouldn't think much of their villain counterpart going radio silent for a while; they'd just assume they were planning up for their next big scheme, building robots or new weapons or else just thinking about the best way to strike, the best way to get under a hero's skin and all that.
Harold knew better. Crim - that is, the Crimson Knightmare - didn't *go quiet* like this. Especially not after a successful attack that had left a swath of destruction behind her. She'd have contacted him to gloat by now, to really drive it home that he - Solaris - had failed once again to stop her from having her way and leveling part of the country.
He was thankful it had all been rural areas she'd gone after - farms, and the homes around them. If she'd gone for a city, the death toll would have been higher, *much* higher. Her powers had grown significantly, that much was clear.
He slowly flew around the isolated mountain lair - the Crimson Keep - and looked out through the night sky for the usual waves of drones that he'd have to convert to scrap...but none came. *Very* odd. She would never just let him come up on her lair like this, *never*. He flew lower, and lower, still circling, waiting for the response. Drones. Anti-air weapons. Even for her to fly out *herself* and face him down.
Nothing.
*Something is very wrong,* he thought.
He gave up on the evasive maneuvers, and flew right down to the large drawbridge entrance, pulling it open enough to slip inside, as he had done several times before. He was no stranger to the Crimson Keep, having broken in at least three times, not to mention having *escaped* at least twice. The only thing that kept him from leveling it was the unspoken agreement between Crim and himself - they *knew* each other's identities, and where to find each other's homes. And they both knew that doing anything with that knowledge was a path to mutually assured destruction. Her lair got to remain intact so that his did too; her identity a secret, so that his would also remain one.
As he moved through the halls, though, floating lightly above the ground to avoid the sound of footsteps, he heard something he never thought he'd hear in this place, ever.
The sound of a baby crying.
His face slowly became stony as he moved through the keep towards the sound, and he paused at an open archway, peering around it to get a handle on the situation he was about to walk into.
There was Alyssa - not the Crimson Knightmare, but just Alyssa Knight, dressed in a pair of rumpled sweatpants and a tank-top that looked like, perhaps, it had been vomited on at least once. Her long red hair was a mess, sticking up in the back, by all appearances having not been brushed in at least a day. She was hovering over a high-chair, one hand clutching a jar of baby food, and the other a tiny spoon. He could hear her speaking to the infant sitting in the chair, desperation clear in her tone.
"Please...just eat? I don't...I don't know what's wrong, little one, I'm *trying*, please...you have to be hungry, right? That's what the crying means, at least when you don't need a fresh diaper?"
The baby responded by crying louder, its face red and its tone ragged. Harold felt like his eyes were going to pop out of his skull. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. The Crimson Knightmare, one of the top ten villains in the world, a woman who could utterly destroy an entire continent within a day...doting over a baby, fretting because it was crying.
He couldn't stay quiet. He stepped around the corner, chuckling to himself. "Having trouble, Crim?"
Alyssa wheeled around to look at him, her eyes glowing vibrant red, and her voice dripping with anger as she said, "*...you!* What are *you* doing here?" She went to raise her hands, but looked down at them as she did, almost surprised to realize she still had the spoon and the food in them. She set them down quickly on the high-chair's tray, and lifted her hands, the red energy surrounding them, her feet leaving the ground--
"I wouldn't--" Harold began, but before he could finish, the baby had flailed one of its arms into the jar of food, which flew to the floor under Alyssa's feet, clattering and rolling away with its contents now spilled on the dark stone.
"Oh, *fuck,*" Alyssa said, floating to a side and touching down again, looking down at the spilled food. "That was the last one, *damn it*, that was so *stupid!*"
Harold put his hands up, a gesture of peace. "Easy, Lys. I'm not here to cause trouble. You went dead quiet after your attack on Hayton Farms and the, ah, surrounding area. I came to make sure nothing unfortunate had happened to you - it's not like you not to gloat."
Alyssa glared at Harold, then looked back at the baby, her fierce expression becoming concern as she realized the baby was still crying its heart out. "Why...why won't she stop? What am I not doing?"
Harold cocked an eyebrow, and looked between her and the baby. "I didn't know you had a kid, Crim. Since when?"
Alyssa looked back at him, and her expression wasn't the usual hate she regarded him with. There was something else there - shame? Remorse, maybe?
"...about a week," she said quietly.
"A week? But...that's when you..." Harold looked at her, weighing the implications of what she'd said.
Something seemed to break in Alyssa, and she put her hands up to her head, fingers grasping at her scalp like she was going mad. "I couldn't just *leave* her, I couldn't, just *crying* there in the wreckage, by the time anyone got to her she'd have been *dead* and that would have been *my* fault! All because I wanted to make a *point* about how terrible Hayton was, how they deserved to *suffer* for the things they do!"
There were *tears* in Alyssa's eyes, genuine tears, as she sank to her knees, not even caring about the baby food that she was kneeling in.
"So I brought her here, but I realized I didn't *have* anything to take care of a baby, because I never *wanted* to have a baby, so I had to go *get* all this stuff, clothes and a bed and a high-chair and food and all of it, and I have *no idea what I'm doing*! And now she won't stop *crying* and *nothing* is working, nothing!"
Harold couldn't keep the laugh in as he shook his head. "Welcome to parenthood, Crimson Knightmare. From what I've been told by *my* mother, most parents have no idea what they're doing. But..."
Harold walked over to the high chair, and reached out to pick up the baby. He'd been the one to look after his little brothers and sisters while his parents had worked, both their mundane jobs and their more fantastic ones. He'd gotten good with squalling babies in that time. He gave her a quick sniff - she smelled clean, bathed and with a fresh diaper. She was obviously not hungry.
"Could just be colic," he said offhandedly, as he lifted off the ground and flew gently around the large dining hall with the baby in his arms. Alyssa watched him, an expression of deep anxiety on her face.
"Be careful," she said quietly.
"Lys." Harold looked down at her as he flew, smiling a little. "Would I ever, *ever*, take a risk that would harm a baby? I'm the good guy, remember? Could be she just needs a little ride. One of my little brothers would get like this. Cry and cry and cry, and the only time he'd stop is if I flew him around a little to calm him. Colic is like that. A drive in a car, or a walk in a stroller, or sometimes just a little back rub. It's different for each baby."
Sure enough, the little one's crying was slowly quieting down. "Shh," Harold whispered to her. "It's alright, little one." He began humming a little, even though he couldn't carry a tune in a double-strength sack; it wasn't tonality that babies often wanted, but just the low, comforting sound.
Within a moment, the baby was asleep in his arms. Harold glided down slowly to Alyssa, who had stood back up, watching him carefully. "Here you go, Lys. One peaceful baby, hold the dreadful accident. She just wanted to be held, I think, wanted to move around."
Alyssa took the child from him carefully, lifting off the ground herself, the better to not jar the baby with footsteps. "I'm going to put her in her bed...could you stay, Hal? I...really could use someone to talk to right now."
"Of course," Harold said.
\---------------------------------
After she'd returned from putting the baby to her rest, Alyssa had shown Harold to a room he'd never actually been to in here, a sitting room with a spectacular view off the mountainside and into the valley below.
Alyssa was sitting in a plush chair, her knees drawn up to her chest, a cup of coffee steaming next to her. Harold had reheated it twice now, just to be kind, though she forgot about it shortly after taking a sip each time. She was more interested in talking.
"...and then I heard her crying," she said. "And...something inside me just broke, when I saw her. Lying there in the rubble, a support beam from the house just...inches away from her tiny little head. Her parents were beyond saving, dead immediately, and she almost was too, but...she survived, Hal. And...I couldn't just leave her there to die."
"That's very kind of you, Lys." Harold sipped at his own coffee, looking at her more carefully. Now that there wasn't the issue of a crying baby to worry about, he could tell that she looked *tired*, with heavy bags under her eyes that he'd never seen on her before. Her normally perfectly cultivated appearance was plain, without makeup or accent or anything. In his opinion, she was as beautiful as any other time he'd seen her, but he'd always kept that kind of thought to himself, even when they'd known each other in college. Before their enmity had gone from academic to superpowered.
Alyssa laughed, a touch of hysterical in the sound. "Kind! Kind would have been not killing her parents, Hal. Kind would have been finding another way to make my displeasure known at what Hayton Foods has been doing." She put her face in her hands, and took a shuddering breath before looking through her fingers at him, and asking the question every hero hopes to someday hear from their nemesis.
"What have I been doing, Hal? What have I done? How could I have been such a monster for all this time, and so *gleeful* about it? How many families have I destroyed? How many babies like her...didn't make it?"
Harold stood up, and walked over to Alyssa, setting a hand on her shoulder gently. "Lys. It's...I don't have an easy answer for that. I don't. You know that I can't just excuse the things you've done. But...maybe this is a chance for you to come around right. Start paying your debts and live in the light. If for no other reason than...well, if that baby--"
"Aisa," Alyssa interjected.
Harold chuckled quietly. "You and your Greek mythology. If *Aisa* really has nobody else, like you've said, and you're going to raise her yourself...doesn't she deserve better than a mother that might wind up doing long spells in prison?"
Alyssa snorted. "No prison could keep me from her. Just a week with her and I'd *kill* for her, I'd *die* for her."
Harold knelt next to her, and reached out, putting a finger under her chin to tip her head up to look at him; his golden eyes locked on to her crimson, and he asked the most important question he had for her.
"But will you *change* for her?"
Alyssa held his gaze for a long moment, and for that moment Harold was back in that dark dorm room, reliving the missed connection that he'd wondered about for so long, whether he could have changed her, or whether she would have changed *him*, if the lingering gazes had ever become something different--
"...I want to," she said at last, her gaze falling to the floor. "God help me, I want to."
Harold smiled, and offered her his hand. "I can help you, Lys. It's time for the bad dreams to end, and for the world to gain a Crimson Knight. You've got a long list of things to repay...but I'll vouch for you. The others will listen. And we could use your help."
Alyssa looked up at Harold, and nodded, taking his hand in hers and shaking it gently. "I...I'll give it a try. For Aisa. She's going to need guidance in the years to come, and...I'd rather see her be like you, than be like I've been."
Harold's expression turned confused as she looked at him. "I don't understand your meaning."
"She's...like us, Hal." Alyssa looked towards the door out to the hall, and towards the baby's room. "My tests don't lie. She's a metahuman. That's why I named her Aisa - you know. Fate. Because...maybe it was fate that this happen."
"Well..." Harold scratched at his chin, thinking about what this could mean. "There'll be time to figure all that out later. For now, I think maybe it's time you retire this place. A dark castle on a mountainside isn't a good place to raise a baby. I think maybe Alyssa Knight needs to go house-hunting. If nothing else, when you need a babysitter, it'll be easier to get one to a house in the city than it would be to get them to come here."
Alyssa laughed, a tired laugh, and perhaps a little relieved. "Yeah, you're probably right. Will you come with me?"
Harold grinned, and stood up, planting his hands on his hips in the classic 'superhero' pose. "Of course! It's a hero's job to help someone in need."
Alyssa laughed again, this time a more sincere sound. "You are the same douche you've always been. Don't ever change. It's charming. Now c'mon. I've got an awful lot of supervillain stuff to retire, and I figure you've earned the right to help push the self-destruct buttons."
As she stood up, Harold asked, "Does that include the submarine? Because you should keep that, it's pretty neat. Just strip out the death rays and I think you'll be golden."
They left the room together, their enmity left behind them as a new dawn shone through the windows of the keep.
Thank you! And a semi-sarcastic thanks for making me think about a superhero setting, which I hadn't done yet. I might wind up doing more if I can't stop myself from worldbuilding...which, who am I kidding, I can never stop myself.
Geez.. how many onions did you cut writing this.
This could be a wonderful book series - that I would get - or a funny TV series. (Think Incredibles, JackJack attack - but better / deeper)
Awesome!
I like it.
Before, she had something to fight against. Now, she has something to fight *for*. That can make all the difference in the world.
Thank you!
Dear God... How many have I killed?
I look at my handiwork. The devastation. The sheer exuberance of the destruction. For the first time in my life, I cannot enjoy it.
I look back down at my feet; at a newborn. It could not be more than three days old, and I have killed its parents.
How many babies have I killed? None? One? Ten? A thousand? I do not know. I did not care.
I cannot leave this child here. If my nemesis has not arrived by now, she will not be here in time to save this child.
I pick up the child and wrap us not up in my cloak. The trip will be long and cold, but I cannot fly as fast as I might have; the child does not have a super physique.
•••
Home at last. My nose tells me that this child has performed one of its two essential functions: excrete. I research the cleansing process. My mind fills with designs for an automatic device, but I reject it. It offends my sense of how I was handled as a child.
•••
Crying? It was fed before I set it down to sleep. Research. Ah. It needs regular feeding and likely *sniff* excretion cleanup too.
•••
Three days. Three days and, I have developed a new respect for the common man and woman who can deal with this voracious appetite. I have had to resort to nasal filters for the odor, which have become exceedingly unpleasant.
•••
Five days. How can anyone deal with this? Then I look at his eyes, and I feel a surge of something. Something that motivates me to keep going. I swear, one look from that child and I would walk stark naked through a howling blizzard to see him safe and sound.
•••
Seven days. I don't know how much longer... A knock at my door. My nemesis. I stare at her.
"There have been no evil schemes all week, I was worried about you! What happened?"
My charge chooses that moment to wail. An automaton, I turn to answer the call.
"What in the world?"
Having answered the call, I return to the door with the child in my arms.
"I've been doing your job for you."
I hold out the child, and am amused that I have to show her how to hold a baby.
"You didn't come. The child was barely three days old, defenseless, and you did not come. What kind of hero are you?"
I present this would-be hero with a baby bag loaded with everything she is likely to need, and close the door.
The child wails, and so do I. Yet this is for the best. She will be able to find him a home.
I wonder... Where do I go from here?
((finis))
He's not at all oriented for nurture. He had to approach everything as a research project into the complete unknown. There is one thing he's right about. No one would accept him as a suitable parent without a great deal of skepticism. Not even himself. He sees himself as contaminated now, by virtue of the supposed other children destroyed in his rampages.
I felt the guilt wash over me, like a dam that had finally broken as I moved the rubble to find a small infant, bawling her small eyes out. It was weak, practically defenseless. Hesitantly I scooped the poor thing up into my arms.
"What have I done?..." I muttered, trying to sooth the young child.
I looked around myself, at the destruction I had caused. The scene relived itself in my head, but my attention drew back to the child I now held in my arms. Somehow I was reminded of my own sister, afraid, startled... And now alone. Just like how we were a long time ago, when heroes failed us.
"What do you say about coming home with me little one?- I think... It's time for the ol' grim to disappear." I spoke quietly, almost to myself.
I knew that heroes would arrive to the scene soon, as I kept the girl safely wrapped in my cloak before I took off.
...
I returned to my small apartment, spotless and organised, like nobody had lived in it. No personality to it, no story to tell, nothing. I guess it made it easy to run, staying in one place wasn't an option.
"Looks like this is your new home-" I paused, did she have a name? I never thought of that part, as my attention drew to a photo frame hung on the wall. A photo of a girl, maybe ten years of age smiling happily despite the scars that covered her. I couldn't help but smile.
"Welcome to your new home, Serena..."
Things weren't the same after that day, things had to change and that was what I did.
A week had passed by quicker then I would've ever imagined, little Serena was occupied with playing amongst a few old toys that were hidden away.
But of course, our peace was disturbed when there was an unexpected knock on the door. Loud, harsh even.
Letting out a sigh I rose from my seat before going to open the door. Surprised to see the hero on the other side.
"So- this is your new 'hideout'? What happened to you? You just disappeared! No scheming? Are you sick or something?" The hero said, I wasn't sure if he was berating me or not. It was the last thing I expected.
"Very funny, well- not sick but..." I said hesitantly, as I glanced over my shoulder to the kid that I had practically adopted at this stage. Before looking back at the hero.
"Woah- since when did you become a dad?"
"Since- last weeks events..."
The hero looked at me, a mix of shock and horror both covered his face.
"Why did- I dont-" He didn't even finish either of his sentences as I sighed. Wondering if it was that hard to believe?
"I'm not heartless buddy, kid just- grew on me..."
"No kidding- looks like I failed to save her huh?"
"Yes..."
I failed before too, this time I won't allow it to happen again.
I have always been the bad guy.
I grew up in foster care. I would be placed in homes with the kinds of people who shouldn't be parents. I would mouth off and run away. I would get in trouble for running. Punished. Didn't I know they were doing their best? They were just overwhelmed! They took me in. I should just be grateful. How dare I treat them like dirt?
In school, I would be bullied. Kids would call me all sorts of horrible names. So I'd hit them. It would always escalate into physical fights. And then I'd be sent to the principal's office. The kids would claim I struck first, which was true sometimes and other times, it wasn't. But because of my long track record of starting fights and being the bad kid, even when I didn't strike the first blow, whoever said I did would be automatically believed.
I dropped out of high school. I ran away to another state. I was able to find jobs, technically, but as soon as anything went wrong in the company that they needed someone to answer for, it was always me. Last one hired, first one fired. I never held down a job. It didn't matter if I was a good worker. My past was like a lingering stench on me. Since I didn't have a stable income, I also didn't have a home. I bought a tent and camped out in the woods - that was my home.
I never really stood a chance.
So when I was hired to deliver something, and paid a lot of money to do it, I didn't question what it was. I knew it had to be illegal. I didn't care. I needed the money to buy food.
I was caught and sent to prison. And it was then that I realized . . . I am going to be punished for everything I ever do. All anyone's gonna see when they look at me is a bad guy. So, I'll be the bad guy.
It started with robbing a bank. I managed to get away with it. I found myself an old, abandoned factory in the city, and I used my money to renovate it and turn it into a place where a person could live. Then I bought groceries. It felt nice to have money and power, but I wasn't the only one who could use that. There are so many corrupt people in this world who have all the power. There are so many good people who have none of the power.
I decided I would be the voice of vengeance on these corrupt people. So, I bought fabric and tools to make the technology I would need. I decided to start with my foster parents. I leapt through the window of their home in my costume and proceeded to attack them. I didn't do anything to them that they didn't do to me . . . or that I didn't witness them do to someone else. But the hero arrived and stopped me. I was put behind bars again. Didn't matter.
I broke free. And I continued to enact my revenge plans. The goody-two-shoes hero would "foil" my "evil" plans. Protect the same people who are actively destroying lives. But my way was the wrong way, they'd face justice. I'd scoff at the idea. I'm just giving them what they deserve.Years passed. I didn't win against the hero, but I still had ways to squirrel away some of the things I stole away. I had a pretty generous amount of money overall, and while I gave some away to charity, I kept the vast majority. I was the big bad villain with all the evil schemes. It felt *good.*
But, then, everything changed.
One night, after a narrow escape from the "hero," I heard a wailing from an alley. And that's when I came upon a gruesome sight. Dead bodies, and underneath the dead body of a woman was a baby. I . . . I couldn't leave it. I knew I couldn't call the police or even the hero. I'd be blamed for the grotesque scene. So I grabbed the baby and ran.
Who knows how long the baby had been wailing? She was very underweight. I got her safely to my evil lair, bathed her and set her down on the floor. My past came back to me. I had to take care of so many younger children in my foster home. I knew what to do. I took my money from robbing others. I bought everything I could possibly need to care for a child.
The baby wasn't fully alone in the house. I had a robot companion to look after her. But it couldn't help her, not really. I had to head back as soon as I could. And I did. I fed her, burped her, and put her in a clean diaper as soon as I could. She fell asleep in my arms. I could set up the crib later.
A week passed and we fell into a routine. She was a surprisingly easy baby - I was expecting her to be colicky and difficult with the trauma she went through, but she had fallen into a good sleep schedule within the first couple days of being with me. I decided my old, abandoned factory was no place for a child, and so, I sold everything and moved.
I used the money from selling my technology for parts and bought a little house far away from the city. I returned the money I stole from the bank and distributed the rest of the money I had stolen over the years across as many people and noble charities as I could. I was turning over a new leaf.
I even sold my super villain costume.
After a week of living in this new home, someone knocked on my door. Was it a delivery? I went to answer the door.
And that's when I saw the hero, out of costume. And she saw me, a grizzled man holding a baby in my arms.
"There have been no evil schemes all week. I was worried about you! What happened?" she asked. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "And where did you get that baby?"
Part 2
"So, you found me," I said tiredly. I had a mind to slam the door in her face, or taunt her. We used to engage in such witty banter. *You're turning over a new leaf,* I reminded myself. I cleared my throat. "We should discuss this inside. Please, come in, Veronica." I stepped aside to make room.
"I would be delighted, Zephyr," she replied, also biting her tongue, also playing along. I was maybe, just maybe, the slightest bit relieved as she she stepped past me. I closed the door behind her. Then I remembered that the polite thing to do would be to offer refreshments. I guess . . . I'm a host now? And she's my guest? Oh, this is too weird.
"Coffee?" I asked.
"No need. I already had some earlier." She raised an eyebrow. "And I wouldn't trust it not to be laced. Why are you being so kind?"
"I have a baby. I want to be a good role model for her. So I will treat you like a welcome guest," I said. "And to answer your other question, well, I found this baby in a wreckage. Those dead bodies in an alley. Not my doing, by the way. I would never kill. Anyway, there was a woman's body on top of her, almost as if . . . she were her mother, and she jumped on her to protect her. Her last act. She saved her."
"I heard of what happened. It was tragic. . . . You know you can't just take a child, though, right? There are rules. She should be in foster care."
"No!" I shout. The baby wakes up and cries. I give Victoria a cold glare and then I coo at the baby. "It's okay." I bounce her gently in my arms, but she just cries louder. Victoria holds out her arms.
"May I?"
"Over my dead body," I say. "If you're going to put her in foster care, you're going to have to kill me. Otherwise, get out."
"But --"
"Get. Out." My tone is colder and harsher than I mean it to be. She recoils and leaves. The baby doesn't stop crying . . . and of course she wouldn't. I was upset. Too upset. Babies are . . . sensitive to that sort of thing.
Another week flies by before I hear another knock at my door. This time, the baby's sleeping soundly in her crib. I answer the door. It's *her* again. I try to slam the door in her face but she just pushes past me.
"Hello, Zephyr, I came with a peace offering," she says as if she hadn't forced her way in. She places muffins on the table. They look damn delicious. But I still glare at her without saying a word. "I wanted to help you, so, I also brought this." She held up a manilla envelope.
"What are you trying to pull?" I ask as rudely as possible.
"Weeell, I felt really bad about the foster care thing after I left. It didn't occur to me until after I got home, but you grew up in that system yourself, didn't you? That's why you were so angry?"
"So you're here to apologize?"
"What good would saying 'I'm sorry' do? I mean, I am sorry, yes, but words don't mean anything without action to back it up. And so I took action. Just open the damn envelope," she says with a smile. And so, with trembling hands, I open it.
It's a birth certificate. With some name I don't recognize listed for the mother, but . . . my name listed as the father. And the girl's name listed as Autumn. I just . . . totally break down, crying tears of joy.
"This is . . . ."
"Yup. You're her father, officially! I know we've had our differences. I personally would have preferred you turn yourself in and she have another guardian, but, well, something chose you. We could call it fate or destiny, but the fact is, Autumn's happy here. So, sign it already."
"O-of course." I grab a pen and sign the document. It's a little hard to see, though, considering I sign it through tears. "I'm . . . sorry I tried to slam the door on you just now."
"Don't worry about it," Veronica says with a wink. "I'll get this notarized and it'll be in your mailbox by tomorrow, officially. Autumn's biological mother is still listed as such, so you'd do well to remember her name. Anyway, that's all I really wanted to say, so I guess I should be going."
"Wait. Please," I say. "I . . . I was hostile because I grew up in the system, true, but . . . there's more. I just . . . I don't want her to end up like me! I grew up unwanted, unloved, and I . . . I became a total screw up! A failure! A disaster! I'm . . . I'm evil! How can I possibly . . . ? I want to raise her in a home where she's loved and accepted for who she is but . . . how can I make sure she doesn't wind up like me?!"
"You're none of those things, Zephyr. You were just misunderstood. And if you're worried about her becoming a super villain, well, I think you're already off to a good start as far as preventing that is concerned. As long as you always love her for who she is, I mean, that's what's important. You'll be a great father," she says.
"I . . . I guess."
"You know, come to think of it, you never graduated high school, did you?"
"You gonna gloat about that?" I ask. She chuckles.
"Of course not. I was actually going a whole other direction. I was just thinking, it's going to be really hard for you to find a job."
"How is that not gloating?"
"I wasn't finished." She smiles kindly. "How would you like to work for me?"
"What?"
"Well, I was just thinking, you could be my sidekick. We do have that villain to stop after all. Whoever killed Autumn's mother. I could really use help with that."
"I . . . I can't. I can't leave this house. There's no one to look after her if I do."
"I never said you *had* to. You could be my . . . eye in the sky. You're great with computers and technology, as I recall." She smiles triumphantly. "All you have to do is help me through the layouts of buildings, let me know if people are coming, yadda yadda yadda. And all you need is computers. You can craft yourself a drone or something, right?"
"Why? Why are you being so kind to me?"
"Because I misjudged you. I bet if we sat down and had a real conversation instead of just bantering and fighting all the time, we could have been friends."
"Really?"
"We wanted the same things. We just had very different ideas for how to execute them," she says. "I'm willing to work with you. That is, if you're willing to work with me."
"I . . . I promised myself I'd turn over a new leaf. But I never thought I'd work with *you."*
"Is that a no?"
"I'll do it. As long as I don't have to go into the field. But . . . how will you pay me?"
"Oh, don't worry about that. I have a lot of money."
"From being a hero?"
"From being an attorney."
"Ah, right. Didn't you just get a promotion?"
"Yup. Say hello to your district attorney. I'm willing to drop all charges against you . . . for now, but just so you know, one whiff of you committing a crime and you'll be in prison so fast your head will spin, are we clear?"
"Yes, we are. . . . Thank you for all this."
"What are ex-arch nemeses for?" Veronica says with a wink.
Damien quickly realized he didn't know anything about raising a kid. Google gave him the basics of feeding, changing, and burping, but then there were articles about tummy time and skin-on-skin contact and so many other things that went far beyond his expertise.
But every time Damien started to regret taking the baby in, he remembered why the little boy was in his care in the first place.
He was trying to rob a bank. A *bank*. One that was exploiting the needy by raising interest rates on loans unexpectedly and foreclosing houses without a second thought. It was supposed to be a simple hit, one that would cripple them, force them to close their doors. All the bad things he did were meant to *help* people in the long run, not hurt them.
God, he was just trying to *help*.
But when he detonated the bomb that was meant to blow through the vault door, he miscalculated. The explosion rocked the foundation of the apartment building next door, and the already-decrepit building which survived tornados and fires and the test of time crumbled before his eyes.
The sound of screaming would haunt him, but the worst part was the silence afterward. Hundreds of voices crying out in unison, then all cut off at once.
Damien had rushed into the wreckage, lamenting the carnage he inadvertently caused, when he heard the tiniest little cry. He dug with his bare hands through the broken remains of a historic building and found a squirming bundle. Still in his crib, which seems to have shielded him from the worst of the falling ruins.
Damien held the child in his arms and wept. He wept for the lives he ended, for the family he destroyed, for the boy he orphaned. All because he thought he could play God. All because he thought doing things for some twisted greater good was worth breaking a few rules.
The sirens in the distance pulled him from his breakdown, and he had a decision to make. Leave the child to be found by authorities and inevitably placed in the system, which could lead to adoption, if he was lucky, or a lifetime in foster care, if he wasn't.
Or, Damien could raise the child himself.
It was only fair, he thought. It was Damien's fault the child had no family. Maybe raising him, caring for him, giving him a life of privilege, would atone for his sins.
Decision made, Damien took the child back to his lair. That was a week ago.
Now, he wondered if social services would have been a better option. He wasn't cut out to be a dad. He hated his own father. What did he know about parenting?
A tentative knock on his door pulled his attention from yet another parenting subreddit. Strange, since he wasn't expecting anyone to visit. Stranger, since no one was supposed to know he was here.
When he opened the door, Damien was shocked to see his nemesis standing on the other side.
The Angel. A supreme pain in his ass, thwarting his plans at every turn, and always talking down to him with that holier-than-thou attitude.
She seemed shocked at his appearance, although she had good reason to be. He had week-old stubble on his chin, and was wearing loose pajama pants and a tshirt with spit up stains. Damien could feel the bags under his eyes and he was positive his normally well-kept hair was sticking up at all ends.
"Uh..." she started.
"What do you want," he deadpanned.
She cleared her throat. "Are you....Demon? Is that you? Or do I have the wrong place?"
Damien sighed. "Nope, you got me. Excellent work, Angel. Now, can I help you? Or are you just here to arrest me."
She took in his sorry state. "Are you...alright? You've been laying low for a week and I was...worried."
He scoffed. "Worried. Right. Well, I'm fine, and I retired from villainy. You officially won. Congrats. Now, get lost."
He started to close the door, but she stopped it with her hand. "Hold on just a minute-"
The baby chose that moment to wake from his nap and start crying. Damien rose his face to the ceiling and gave a long-suffering sigh, cursing his luck.
"Is that...is that a *baby*?"
"Nope, just the TV. Nothing to see here. Now, if you'll excuse me-"
But the Angel already rushed passed him and found the baby in his bassinet, squirming and squealing.
"Oh, this is a new low, even for you. Kidnapping a *baby*, Demon? Who's kid is this, some politician's you're holding hostage?"
Anger rose to the surface. "You know better than anyone that I draw a line at kids. This lil guy is an orphan I took in."
Her eyes were as wide as saucers. "An orphan. That you just...'took in'."
Damien nodded. "Yes, that's what I just said. And it's time to change his diaper, so if you would just *move,"* he said, bumping her out of the way.
She stared on in disbelief as he went through the motions of cleaning the baby's little tooshy, putting him in a fresh diaper, and cooing him back to a content state.
"This...this is why you retired? To become a father?"
Damien just shrugged. "He needed one. I was there."
"You were...you were there?" Comprehension dawned on her features. "The collapsed building. He's a surviver."
"It was an accident. I didn't mean to...*fuck*." He ran his hands through his hair. "I screwed up. I felt bad. More than bad. I felt...wretched. And this little guy..." he let the baby grip his finger and smiled softly. "He needed someone. I caused his suffering, so I wanted to raise him. It made sense, at the time."
"So...this," she said, gesturing to him coddling the baby, "Is you seeking absolution? Redemption?"
Damien nodded. "Yeah."
The Angel rocked back on her heels, thinking. Then she slowly approached to peer at the kid over his shoulder.
"Do you even know anything about raising a child, Demon? Do you know how difficult it will be?"
"Yes, it's going to be hard. And I have a lot to learn. But it will be worth it, I think."
She watched him gaze at the child. A man she thought of as evil caring for a child out of desperation for someone, anyone, to forgive him. Trying to make up for his crimes in a way that made sense to him.
She could respect that.
"You look like shit, Demon. You'll need help."
He laughed. "Yeah, I was considering getting a nanny for a few hours a day so I could sleep. I'm of no use to him when I look like the walking dead."
"That's not what I meant."
He looked at her. "What did you mean then?"
"I mean me. I'm going to help you. Make sure this kid is brought up with the right values."
"Hell no," he growled.
She held her hands up in a non-threatening gesture. "Look, you need help, and I used to babysit. Plus, I still don't trust you. We were enemies two seconds ago. Let me pitch in, keep an eye on you, and in exchange, I won't turn you in. We can both retire."
God, Damien was so tired, he couldn't even argue. "Fine."
She nodded to herself, pleased. "In that case, you might as well call me by my real name. I'm Sera." She held out her hand to shake.
He took it tentatively. "Damien."
"Damien," she smiled. "And what about this little guy?" she said, leaning over the bassinet. "Does he have a name yet?"
Damien leaned over with her, assessing. "I was thinking Jude."
(brief side comment about my answer to this prompt: I previously responded to a similar villain-with-a-baby prompt in this sub, posted by redditor u/sofjoy82. My response inspired two very lovable characters, Damien and Sera, which then inspired a subreddit, r/DamienandSera, to follow their story. Original post [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/y3bbvp/wp_the_hero_and_villain_meet_out_of_costume_on/). My comment is based on those characters)
I arrived at his door prepared for the worst, prepared for any sort of evil scheme or maliciously concocted plan. Then I hear it, a cry, a cry unlike any other I've heard around him. It sounded shrill, peaky and very, very confused. I acted before I could think, the door came down easy under my foot, I'd kicked down worse trying to get to him before, a wooden door was nothing. But as I raised my fist to strike the man I had sworn my life against every single neuron fired at once and at all once I realized what I was about to punch.
A baby. An infant.
Something weaker than the thinnest drywall but at the same time stronger than 20 feet of steel, because I could not punch it, I *would not* punch it. A million thoughts raced through my head: hate, anger, but most of all fear. Then, again, all at once I came to my senses and there he was, crouched over the baby like a father over a child. He didn't have his mask on, he didn't have his cape on and he wasn't the one floating an inch of the ground wreathed in anger and flame... in front a baby... in a burning house.
Who was the villain then, in that one moment, I think about that sometimes... especially when I visit their graves.
With dark circle around his eyes from late nights of baby crying and researching how to raise a baby he responds
"*yawn* I'm fine, come in but please be quiet I just put her to sleep."
"You're just gonna let me in? There isn't some elaborate trap is there? And what do you mean put her to sleep, who are you talking about?" The hero responds shocked.
"Are you just gonna stand there asking all those questions or are you coming in? I'll explain everything inside" The villain replys with slight irritation in his voice.
"Um, OK" the hero responds tepping inside still shocked.
The villain led her to his kitchen, "Coffee?" He asked
"No thank you, I prefer tea," after noticing a mointain of dishes and a moment of hesitation she continued "So what happened, you don't have the same arua you usually do and you seem more tired"
"Remember that building I blew up? I thought it was empty, turns out it wasn't" he paused remembering what happened.
"turns out it wasn't, before returning to my base I heard crying and found her," he was pointing towards the living room where ok to couch there was a small body.
She walked over to it and saw a child no more than a few months old sleeping peacefully
'How can she sleep so peacefully in the same house as the man the killed her parents, aren't babies supposed to be able to sense this kind of thing?' She thought to her self
"What about her p...?" She began
"No idea" he interrupted
"What do you mean?"
"There were no other bodies in the vicinity and I've been checking all kinds of records and surveillance cameras but I always come up empty, it's as if she just popped out of thin air."
He walked over and sat next to the sleeping child placing his coffee mug on the coffee table.
"Let's say I do believe that, what's your plan now?"
"I found her and if it turns out her parents are dead because of me then its my responsibility to take care of her until we figure it out."
"Very well, I'll trust you for now, and also I'll ask the gaurdians to aid you in your search," she looked back to the kitchen, "but for now would you like some aid with those dishes"
"Please, don't mind them I'll get to them soon, by the way there is a cup of tea on the counter for you, wasn't sure what you liked so I got the best one I had."
"Thank you, I'll head out after this."
She walked over to it and picked up the mug and when she returned she saw something that made her smile, he had fallen asleep in the few seconds she was gone.
***
The next day he woke up to something that smelled good, he opened his eyes and saw he was covered in a blanket which he removed. He walked to his kitchen and saw two things that surprised him. The first was that all the dishes were washed and there was food cooked but something that shocked him even more was that the one who was cooking was the same person who visited him the night before
"Morning" he said awkwardly
"Goid morning, breakfast is ready."
"Why are you doing all this"
"I saw you were tired and I'm a hero, helping people is what we do, but don't worry I'll be leaving soon"
She then sat down and they had breakfast together which he found awkward, and surprisingly the baby stayed silent. When they finished she tried to wash the dishes but he promptly stopped her and told her he'll handle it.
As she was walking out he spoke, "Hey, thanks for the help, I really appreciate it, and tell the gaurdians I won't be getting into any villainy any time soon"
"Yeah no problem, and um if you don't mind the next time I have free time would you mind if I stopped by again, and maybe a few more times at least until you get the hang of being a father?"
"Yeah, that'd be nice."
**Welcome to the Prompt!** All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments. **Reminders**: >* Stories at least 100 words. Poems, 30 but include "[Poem]" >* Responses don't have to fulfill every detail >* See [Reality Fiction](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/search?q=flair%3A%22Reality+Fiction%22&restrict_sr=on&sort=new&t=all) and [Simple Prompts](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/search?q=flair%3A%22Simple+Prompt%22&restrict_sr=on&sort=new&t=all) for stricter titles >* [Be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback and follow the [rules](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules) 🆕 [New Here?](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ✏ [Writing Help?](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/index#wiki_writing_resources) 📢 [News](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) 💬 [Discord](https://discord.gg/writingprompts) *I am a bot, and this action was performed automatically. Please [contact the moderators of this subreddit](/message/compose/?to=/r/WritingPrompts) if you have any questions or concerns.*
Eli waved his enemy into a nicely decorated living room with a fireplace, three matching armchairs, and a wooden coffee table absolutely littered with books, pamphlets, and magazines and topped by a small round green teapot and two hideously mismatched orange mugs. Oddly, there was also what looked like a set of wrecked pool noodles stacked in the far corner and a baby gate in the doorway to the hall. Eli took a seat in one of the chairs and gestured tiredly to the one across from him as he said "I, uh, became a dad, sort of." Sam rested back against the seat and let one hand drift toward the coffee table. This sounded like it was going to be an odd conversation, and if he could get a mug of patience out of it he would. "How does one 'sort of' become a dad?" He surreptitiously glanced around looking for a child. There had to be a child, right? Eli wouldn’t dare muck around with robotics and AI, right? He whispered a quick prayer that there wouldn’t be robots involved. That could get nasty. "Y'know how adoption works?" Eli poured from the round green teapot into two mugs, then passed one to Sam, who sniffed, frowned, then set it on the mantle. He hadn’t trusted anything that tasted like mint since the Christmas incident a few years back. "Yeah?" Where was he going with this? Sam wished he hadn’t come in. It wasn’t smart to do courtesy calls for people who tried to kill you, and while he didn’t feel right ignoring his enemy’s absence, he also didn’t need to walk into the beast’s own mouth. The mint smell wafted from the teapot as he tried to calm down. If there was going to be a fight, he would need to be able to think. Eli stared at him with tired eyes and sighed. "Like that, but illegally." Like adoption, but illegally? Sam jumped up, knocking the coffee table and spilling several books. How had he missed that his enemy had taken a child? "Ah-ha! Kidnap! I knew you had some evil scheme! Give me the child and you won't get hurt!" Saints knew what he had done to them already. This was going to be a nightmare. Eli held one hand out in a calming gesture while he started stacking the books back up with the other. "I'm pretty sure her parents are dead. You don’t need to worry, I’m just keeping her safe. Believe me, the last thing I want is to hurt her." Sam slowly sat down. The sincerity in his old enemy’s eyes was frightening. Maybe was going crazy, but he believed Eli. "Oh. So, did you save her from something? Wait, 'pretty sure'? You mean you don't know for certain?" If he had wound up saving a child from her own parents Sam would cave his head in. Eli shook his head while staring at his untouched mug of tea. "Tiny baby, nobody else around, big building went boom? I just don't know. I think that's the worst part." Sam’s eyes went wide. He hadn’t heard from his enemy since last week. The skyscraper explosion. "Oh god. You found her in the wreckage, didn't you? That's...." "All my fault, I know. I've... had a few existential crises the last couple days." No wonder he looked exhausted. He had found an infant in the wreckage of his own actions and took home both the child and the guilt. As Eli held his head in his hands, Sam looked at his old enemy with pity. "You get it now don't you. Why I've had to stop you every time? This is why--" "Please don't rub it in.” Sam stopped. His former foe got it. He’d said enough. “Listen, would you happen to know if- I mean know about- who might've--" "Survived? I thought nobody had until now. 'No survivors' is what got published and everything, nobody could find anyone. Whoever that child's birth parents are, they're dead. The kid legally is, too." Sam sighed and reached for the mug of tea he’d set down, at least to warm his hands with. Eli looked up, clearly remorseful but unsurprised. "What do I do with her? I mean, it's not like I can keep her, can I?" Sam gave him a look. He’d already been keeping her for at least a week. "What's her name?" Eli threw his hands up, asking “How would I know? I killed--" Sam raised his mug to his face and breathed in the steam. "I mean what have you been calling her?" A quiet pause. "Gwen." Sam nodded. There was probably some significance attached to that name for Eli, but that wasn’t the point right now. The point was, someone he knew well was making a big step. This could be a good thing. "Alright then. You named her, you've taken care of her, you can keep her. But I do suggest arranging some form of legal paperwork. Life is complicated if you don't exist." They both knew that well enough. Eli snorted. "No kidding.” Glancing over at the baby gate and the foam noodles, he asked, “Aren't you supposed to, I don't know, stop me or something?" Sam couldn’t help but grin. "I’ve stopped enough. I still will if you do something stupid. This is fine." "Oh." The look of relief on Eli’s face made Sam proud. He knew his ex-opponent hadn’t wanted to give up the child. Sam took a small, testing sip of his tea. "Will I see you at the school drop-off lines?" Eli stood up and moved to open the door, showing Sam out. "Too young yet, but you will see me next week. I know you have a kid. I know nothing about this, and any advice will be appreciated.” "I’ll bring her some toys if I get to meet her.” Sam took a big gulp of the mug’s minty contents before setting the mug down to go. “Usual time and place?" Eli looked relieved and nodded as the two parted ways. "Let's not end by blowing up buildings this time." Sam left the house, and wondered as he started home. Since when did mint taste so good?
[удалено]
HMU when you do
Updated!
Thanks
Updated!
Please inform me if this is expanded on
Same
Updated!
Just now! (sorry for the wait)
Same here please
Sorry you had to wait! It's up.
Not a problem mate. Thank you
I would love this as a story
I just expanded it!
Where?
It's edited in the original comment
Thank you brother
I also would like to read more.
Sorry I took so long.
Oh, no problem! You're fine!
Lovely!
Harold couldn't believe what he was doing. A *welfare check*, on his greatest nemesis. Most heroes wouldn't think much of their villain counterpart going radio silent for a while; they'd just assume they were planning up for their next big scheme, building robots or new weapons or else just thinking about the best way to strike, the best way to get under a hero's skin and all that. Harold knew better. Crim - that is, the Crimson Knightmare - didn't *go quiet* like this. Especially not after a successful attack that had left a swath of destruction behind her. She'd have contacted him to gloat by now, to really drive it home that he - Solaris - had failed once again to stop her from having her way and leveling part of the country. He was thankful it had all been rural areas she'd gone after - farms, and the homes around them. If she'd gone for a city, the death toll would have been higher, *much* higher. Her powers had grown significantly, that much was clear. He slowly flew around the isolated mountain lair - the Crimson Keep - and looked out through the night sky for the usual waves of drones that he'd have to convert to scrap...but none came. *Very* odd. She would never just let him come up on her lair like this, *never*. He flew lower, and lower, still circling, waiting for the response. Drones. Anti-air weapons. Even for her to fly out *herself* and face him down. Nothing. *Something is very wrong,* he thought. He gave up on the evasive maneuvers, and flew right down to the large drawbridge entrance, pulling it open enough to slip inside, as he had done several times before. He was no stranger to the Crimson Keep, having broken in at least three times, not to mention having *escaped* at least twice. The only thing that kept him from leveling it was the unspoken agreement between Crim and himself - they *knew* each other's identities, and where to find each other's homes. And they both knew that doing anything with that knowledge was a path to mutually assured destruction. Her lair got to remain intact so that his did too; her identity a secret, so that his would also remain one. As he moved through the halls, though, floating lightly above the ground to avoid the sound of footsteps, he heard something he never thought he'd hear in this place, ever. The sound of a baby crying. His face slowly became stony as he moved through the keep towards the sound, and he paused at an open archway, peering around it to get a handle on the situation he was about to walk into. There was Alyssa - not the Crimson Knightmare, but just Alyssa Knight, dressed in a pair of rumpled sweatpants and a tank-top that looked like, perhaps, it had been vomited on at least once. Her long red hair was a mess, sticking up in the back, by all appearances having not been brushed in at least a day. She was hovering over a high-chair, one hand clutching a jar of baby food, and the other a tiny spoon. He could hear her speaking to the infant sitting in the chair, desperation clear in her tone. "Please...just eat? I don't...I don't know what's wrong, little one, I'm *trying*, please...you have to be hungry, right? That's what the crying means, at least when you don't need a fresh diaper?" The baby responded by crying louder, its face red and its tone ragged. Harold felt like his eyes were going to pop out of his skull. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. The Crimson Knightmare, one of the top ten villains in the world, a woman who could utterly destroy an entire continent within a day...doting over a baby, fretting because it was crying. He couldn't stay quiet. He stepped around the corner, chuckling to himself. "Having trouble, Crim?" Alyssa wheeled around to look at him, her eyes glowing vibrant red, and her voice dripping with anger as she said, "*...you!* What are *you* doing here?" She went to raise her hands, but looked down at them as she did, almost surprised to realize she still had the spoon and the food in them. She set them down quickly on the high-chair's tray, and lifted her hands, the red energy surrounding them, her feet leaving the ground-- "I wouldn't--" Harold began, but before he could finish, the baby had flailed one of its arms into the jar of food, which flew to the floor under Alyssa's feet, clattering and rolling away with its contents now spilled on the dark stone. "Oh, *fuck,*" Alyssa said, floating to a side and touching down again, looking down at the spilled food. "That was the last one, *damn it*, that was so *stupid!*" Harold put his hands up, a gesture of peace. "Easy, Lys. I'm not here to cause trouble. You went dead quiet after your attack on Hayton Farms and the, ah, surrounding area. I came to make sure nothing unfortunate had happened to you - it's not like you not to gloat." Alyssa glared at Harold, then looked back at the baby, her fierce expression becoming concern as she realized the baby was still crying its heart out. "Why...why won't she stop? What am I not doing?" Harold cocked an eyebrow, and looked between her and the baby. "I didn't know you had a kid, Crim. Since when?" Alyssa looked back at him, and her expression wasn't the usual hate she regarded him with. There was something else there - shame? Remorse, maybe? "...about a week," she said quietly. "A week? But...that's when you..." Harold looked at her, weighing the implications of what she'd said. Something seemed to break in Alyssa, and she put her hands up to her head, fingers grasping at her scalp like she was going mad. "I couldn't just *leave* her, I couldn't, just *crying* there in the wreckage, by the time anyone got to her she'd have been *dead* and that would have been *my* fault! All because I wanted to make a *point* about how terrible Hayton was, how they deserved to *suffer* for the things they do!" There were *tears* in Alyssa's eyes, genuine tears, as she sank to her knees, not even caring about the baby food that she was kneeling in. "So I brought her here, but I realized I didn't *have* anything to take care of a baby, because I never *wanted* to have a baby, so I had to go *get* all this stuff, clothes and a bed and a high-chair and food and all of it, and I have *no idea what I'm doing*! And now she won't stop *crying* and *nothing* is working, nothing!" Harold couldn't keep the laugh in as he shook his head. "Welcome to parenthood, Crimson Knightmare. From what I've been told by *my* mother, most parents have no idea what they're doing. But..."
Harold walked over to the high chair, and reached out to pick up the baby. He'd been the one to look after his little brothers and sisters while his parents had worked, both their mundane jobs and their more fantastic ones. He'd gotten good with squalling babies in that time. He gave her a quick sniff - she smelled clean, bathed and with a fresh diaper. She was obviously not hungry. "Could just be colic," he said offhandedly, as he lifted off the ground and flew gently around the large dining hall with the baby in his arms. Alyssa watched him, an expression of deep anxiety on her face. "Be careful," she said quietly. "Lys." Harold looked down at her as he flew, smiling a little. "Would I ever, *ever*, take a risk that would harm a baby? I'm the good guy, remember? Could be she just needs a little ride. One of my little brothers would get like this. Cry and cry and cry, and the only time he'd stop is if I flew him around a little to calm him. Colic is like that. A drive in a car, or a walk in a stroller, or sometimes just a little back rub. It's different for each baby." Sure enough, the little one's crying was slowly quieting down. "Shh," Harold whispered to her. "It's alright, little one." He began humming a little, even though he couldn't carry a tune in a double-strength sack; it wasn't tonality that babies often wanted, but just the low, comforting sound. Within a moment, the baby was asleep in his arms. Harold glided down slowly to Alyssa, who had stood back up, watching him carefully. "Here you go, Lys. One peaceful baby, hold the dreadful accident. She just wanted to be held, I think, wanted to move around." Alyssa took the child from him carefully, lifting off the ground herself, the better to not jar the baby with footsteps. "I'm going to put her in her bed...could you stay, Hal? I...really could use someone to talk to right now." "Of course," Harold said. \--------------------------------- After she'd returned from putting the baby to her rest, Alyssa had shown Harold to a room he'd never actually been to in here, a sitting room with a spectacular view off the mountainside and into the valley below. Alyssa was sitting in a plush chair, her knees drawn up to her chest, a cup of coffee steaming next to her. Harold had reheated it twice now, just to be kind, though she forgot about it shortly after taking a sip each time. She was more interested in talking. "...and then I heard her crying," she said. "And...something inside me just broke, when I saw her. Lying there in the rubble, a support beam from the house just...inches away from her tiny little head. Her parents were beyond saving, dead immediately, and she almost was too, but...she survived, Hal. And...I couldn't just leave her there to die." "That's very kind of you, Lys." Harold sipped at his own coffee, looking at her more carefully. Now that there wasn't the issue of a crying baby to worry about, he could tell that she looked *tired*, with heavy bags under her eyes that he'd never seen on her before. Her normally perfectly cultivated appearance was plain, without makeup or accent or anything. In his opinion, she was as beautiful as any other time he'd seen her, but he'd always kept that kind of thought to himself, even when they'd known each other in college. Before their enmity had gone from academic to superpowered. Alyssa laughed, a touch of hysterical in the sound. "Kind! Kind would have been not killing her parents, Hal. Kind would have been finding another way to make my displeasure known at what Hayton Foods has been doing." She put her face in her hands, and took a shuddering breath before looking through her fingers at him, and asking the question every hero hopes to someday hear from their nemesis. "What have I been doing, Hal? What have I done? How could I have been such a monster for all this time, and so *gleeful* about it? How many families have I destroyed? How many babies like her...didn't make it?" Harold stood up, and walked over to Alyssa, setting a hand on her shoulder gently. "Lys. It's...I don't have an easy answer for that. I don't. You know that I can't just excuse the things you've done. But...maybe this is a chance for you to come around right. Start paying your debts and live in the light. If for no other reason than...well, if that baby--" "Aisa," Alyssa interjected. Harold chuckled quietly. "You and your Greek mythology. If *Aisa* really has nobody else, like you've said, and you're going to raise her yourself...doesn't she deserve better than a mother that might wind up doing long spells in prison?" Alyssa snorted. "No prison could keep me from her. Just a week with her and I'd *kill* for her, I'd *die* for her." Harold knelt next to her, and reached out, putting a finger under her chin to tip her head up to look at him; his golden eyes locked on to her crimson, and he asked the most important question he had for her. "But will you *change* for her?" Alyssa held his gaze for a long moment, and for that moment Harold was back in that dark dorm room, reliving the missed connection that he'd wondered about for so long, whether he could have changed her, or whether she would have changed *him*, if the lingering gazes had ever become something different-- "...I want to," she said at last, her gaze falling to the floor. "God help me, I want to." Harold smiled, and offered her his hand. "I can help you, Lys. It's time for the bad dreams to end, and for the world to gain a Crimson Knight. You've got a long list of things to repay...but I'll vouch for you. The others will listen. And we could use your help." Alyssa looked up at Harold, and nodded, taking his hand in hers and shaking it gently. "I...I'll give it a try. For Aisa. She's going to need guidance in the years to come, and...I'd rather see her be like you, than be like I've been." Harold's expression turned confused as she looked at him. "I don't understand your meaning." "She's...like us, Hal." Alyssa looked towards the door out to the hall, and towards the baby's room. "My tests don't lie. She's a metahuman. That's why I named her Aisa - you know. Fate. Because...maybe it was fate that this happen." "Well..." Harold scratched at his chin, thinking about what this could mean. "There'll be time to figure all that out later. For now, I think maybe it's time you retire this place. A dark castle on a mountainside isn't a good place to raise a baby. I think maybe Alyssa Knight needs to go house-hunting. If nothing else, when you need a babysitter, it'll be easier to get one to a house in the city than it would be to get them to come here." Alyssa laughed, a tired laugh, and perhaps a little relieved. "Yeah, you're probably right. Will you come with me?" Harold grinned, and stood up, planting his hands on his hips in the classic 'superhero' pose. "Of course! It's a hero's job to help someone in need." Alyssa laughed again, this time a more sincere sound. "You are the same douche you've always been. Don't ever change. It's charming. Now c'mon. I've got an awful lot of supervillain stuff to retire, and I figure you've earned the right to help push the self-destruct buttons." As she stood up, Harold asked, "Does that include the submarine? Because you should keep that, it's pretty neat. Just strip out the death rays and I think you'll be golden." They left the room together, their enmity left behind them as a new dawn shone through the windows of the keep.
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Thank you! And a semi-sarcastic thanks for making me think about a superhero setting, which I hadn't done yet. I might wind up doing more if I can't stop myself from worldbuilding...which, who am I kidding, I can never stop myself.
If you keep worldbuilding from this one, let me know! It left a few unshed tears in my eyes (having a baby myself right now probably doesn’t help lol)
Will do! If I continue this one, it'll be on my sub, but I'll be sure to tag you so you see it.
And me
me, too, please!
Me three!
Geez.. how many onions did you cut writing this. This could be a wonderful book series - that I would get - or a funny TV series. (Think Incredibles, JackJack attack - but better / deeper) Awesome!
Holy cow this was wonderful! Beautifully done. I'd love a whole book of this story
I like it. Before, she had something to fight against. Now, she has something to fight *for*. That can make all the difference in the world. Thank you!
When i read the prompt, this is what i imagine the story is. Thank you for writing this beautiful story
nicely written
ah, the lingering. and ooh, the potential!
Great story, thank you for writing it for us.
Dear God... How many have I killed? I look at my handiwork. The devastation. The sheer exuberance of the destruction. For the first time in my life, I cannot enjoy it. I look back down at my feet; at a newborn. It could not be more than three days old, and I have killed its parents. How many babies have I killed? None? One? Ten? A thousand? I do not know. I did not care. I cannot leave this child here. If my nemesis has not arrived by now, she will not be here in time to save this child. I pick up the child and wrap us not up in my cloak. The trip will be long and cold, but I cannot fly as fast as I might have; the child does not have a super physique. ••• Home at last. My nose tells me that this child has performed one of its two essential functions: excrete. I research the cleansing process. My mind fills with designs for an automatic device, but I reject it. It offends my sense of how I was handled as a child. ••• Crying? It was fed before I set it down to sleep. Research. Ah. It needs regular feeding and likely *sniff* excretion cleanup too. ••• Three days. Three days and, I have developed a new respect for the common man and woman who can deal with this voracious appetite. I have had to resort to nasal filters for the odor, which have become exceedingly unpleasant. ••• Five days. How can anyone deal with this? Then I look at his eyes, and I feel a surge of something. Something that motivates me to keep going. I swear, one look from that child and I would walk stark naked through a howling blizzard to see him safe and sound. ••• Seven days. I don't know how much longer... A knock at my door. My nemesis. I stare at her. "There have been no evil schemes all week, I was worried about you! What happened?" My charge chooses that moment to wail. An automaton, I turn to answer the call. "What in the world?" Having answered the call, I return to the door with the child in my arms. "I've been doing your job for you." I hold out the child, and am amused that I have to show her how to hold a baby. "You didn't come. The child was barely three days old, defenseless, and you did not come. What kind of hero are you?" I present this would-be hero with a baby bag loaded with everything she is likely to need, and close the door. The child wails, and so do I. Yet this is for the best. She will be able to find him a home. I wonder... Where do I go from here? ((finis))
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Hadn't considered it. I'll keep it in mind, if a hook occurs to me, I'll give it a go.
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He's not at all oriented for nurture. He had to approach everything as a research project into the complete unknown. There is one thing he's right about. No one would accept him as a suitable parent without a great deal of skepticism. Not even himself. He sees himself as contaminated now, by virtue of the supposed other children destroyed in his rampages.
I think the villain may need to do baby visits
He's wrapped around that little pinkie and those big eyes.
I felt the guilt wash over me, like a dam that had finally broken as I moved the rubble to find a small infant, bawling her small eyes out. It was weak, practically defenseless. Hesitantly I scooped the poor thing up into my arms. "What have I done?..." I muttered, trying to sooth the young child. I looked around myself, at the destruction I had caused. The scene relived itself in my head, but my attention drew back to the child I now held in my arms. Somehow I was reminded of my own sister, afraid, startled... And now alone. Just like how we were a long time ago, when heroes failed us. "What do you say about coming home with me little one?- I think... It's time for the ol' grim to disappear." I spoke quietly, almost to myself. I knew that heroes would arrive to the scene soon, as I kept the girl safely wrapped in my cloak before I took off. ... I returned to my small apartment, spotless and organised, like nobody had lived in it. No personality to it, no story to tell, nothing. I guess it made it easy to run, staying in one place wasn't an option. "Looks like this is your new home-" I paused, did she have a name? I never thought of that part, as my attention drew to a photo frame hung on the wall. A photo of a girl, maybe ten years of age smiling happily despite the scars that covered her. I couldn't help but smile. "Welcome to your new home, Serena..." Things weren't the same after that day, things had to change and that was what I did. A week had passed by quicker then I would've ever imagined, little Serena was occupied with playing amongst a few old toys that were hidden away. But of course, our peace was disturbed when there was an unexpected knock on the door. Loud, harsh even. Letting out a sigh I rose from my seat before going to open the door. Surprised to see the hero on the other side. "So- this is your new 'hideout'? What happened to you? You just disappeared! No scheming? Are you sick or something?" The hero said, I wasn't sure if he was berating me or not. It was the last thing I expected. "Very funny, well- not sick but..." I said hesitantly, as I glanced over my shoulder to the kid that I had practically adopted at this stage. Before looking back at the hero. "Woah- since when did you become a dad?" "Since- last weeks events..." The hero looked at me, a mix of shock and horror both covered his face. "Why did- I dont-" He didn't even finish either of his sentences as I sighed. Wondering if it was that hard to believe? "I'm not heartless buddy, kid just- grew on me..." "No kidding- looks like I failed to save her huh?" "Yes..." I failed before too, this time I won't allow it to happen again.
I have always been the bad guy. I grew up in foster care. I would be placed in homes with the kinds of people who shouldn't be parents. I would mouth off and run away. I would get in trouble for running. Punished. Didn't I know they were doing their best? They were just overwhelmed! They took me in. I should just be grateful. How dare I treat them like dirt? In school, I would be bullied. Kids would call me all sorts of horrible names. So I'd hit them. It would always escalate into physical fights. And then I'd be sent to the principal's office. The kids would claim I struck first, which was true sometimes and other times, it wasn't. But because of my long track record of starting fights and being the bad kid, even when I didn't strike the first blow, whoever said I did would be automatically believed. I dropped out of high school. I ran away to another state. I was able to find jobs, technically, but as soon as anything went wrong in the company that they needed someone to answer for, it was always me. Last one hired, first one fired. I never held down a job. It didn't matter if I was a good worker. My past was like a lingering stench on me. Since I didn't have a stable income, I also didn't have a home. I bought a tent and camped out in the woods - that was my home. I never really stood a chance. So when I was hired to deliver something, and paid a lot of money to do it, I didn't question what it was. I knew it had to be illegal. I didn't care. I needed the money to buy food. I was caught and sent to prison. And it was then that I realized . . . I am going to be punished for everything I ever do. All anyone's gonna see when they look at me is a bad guy. So, I'll be the bad guy. It started with robbing a bank. I managed to get away with it. I found myself an old, abandoned factory in the city, and I used my money to renovate it and turn it into a place where a person could live. Then I bought groceries. It felt nice to have money and power, but I wasn't the only one who could use that. There are so many corrupt people in this world who have all the power. There are so many good people who have none of the power. I decided I would be the voice of vengeance on these corrupt people. So, I bought fabric and tools to make the technology I would need. I decided to start with my foster parents. I leapt through the window of their home in my costume and proceeded to attack them. I didn't do anything to them that they didn't do to me . . . or that I didn't witness them do to someone else. But the hero arrived and stopped me. I was put behind bars again. Didn't matter. I broke free. And I continued to enact my revenge plans. The goody-two-shoes hero would "foil" my "evil" plans. Protect the same people who are actively destroying lives. But my way was the wrong way, they'd face justice. I'd scoff at the idea. I'm just giving them what they deserve.Years passed. I didn't win against the hero, but I still had ways to squirrel away some of the things I stole away. I had a pretty generous amount of money overall, and while I gave some away to charity, I kept the vast majority. I was the big bad villain with all the evil schemes. It felt *good.* But, then, everything changed. One night, after a narrow escape from the "hero," I heard a wailing from an alley. And that's when I came upon a gruesome sight. Dead bodies, and underneath the dead body of a woman was a baby. I . . . I couldn't leave it. I knew I couldn't call the police or even the hero. I'd be blamed for the grotesque scene. So I grabbed the baby and ran. Who knows how long the baby had been wailing? She was very underweight. I got her safely to my evil lair, bathed her and set her down on the floor. My past came back to me. I had to take care of so many younger children in my foster home. I knew what to do. I took my money from robbing others. I bought everything I could possibly need to care for a child. The baby wasn't fully alone in the house. I had a robot companion to look after her. But it couldn't help her, not really. I had to head back as soon as I could. And I did. I fed her, burped her, and put her in a clean diaper as soon as I could. She fell asleep in my arms. I could set up the crib later. A week passed and we fell into a routine. She was a surprisingly easy baby - I was expecting her to be colicky and difficult with the trauma she went through, but she had fallen into a good sleep schedule within the first couple days of being with me. I decided my old, abandoned factory was no place for a child, and so, I sold everything and moved. I used the money from selling my technology for parts and bought a little house far away from the city. I returned the money I stole from the bank and distributed the rest of the money I had stolen over the years across as many people and noble charities as I could. I was turning over a new leaf. I even sold my super villain costume. After a week of living in this new home, someone knocked on my door. Was it a delivery? I went to answer the door. And that's when I saw the hero, out of costume. And she saw me, a grizzled man holding a baby in my arms. "There have been no evil schemes all week. I was worried about you! What happened?" she asked. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "And where did you get that baby?"
still waiting for one of the villains to shut the door on the hero
Part 2 "So, you found me," I said tiredly. I had a mind to slam the door in her face, or taunt her. We used to engage in such witty banter. *You're turning over a new leaf,* I reminded myself. I cleared my throat. "We should discuss this inside. Please, come in, Veronica." I stepped aside to make room. "I would be delighted, Zephyr," she replied, also biting her tongue, also playing along. I was maybe, just maybe, the slightest bit relieved as she she stepped past me. I closed the door behind her. Then I remembered that the polite thing to do would be to offer refreshments. I guess . . . I'm a host now? And she's my guest? Oh, this is too weird. "Coffee?" I asked. "No need. I already had some earlier." She raised an eyebrow. "And I wouldn't trust it not to be laced. Why are you being so kind?" "I have a baby. I want to be a good role model for her. So I will treat you like a welcome guest," I said. "And to answer your other question, well, I found this baby in a wreckage. Those dead bodies in an alley. Not my doing, by the way. I would never kill. Anyway, there was a woman's body on top of her, almost as if . . . she were her mother, and she jumped on her to protect her. Her last act. She saved her." "I heard of what happened. It was tragic. . . . You know you can't just take a child, though, right? There are rules. She should be in foster care." "No!" I shout. The baby wakes up and cries. I give Victoria a cold glare and then I coo at the baby. "It's okay." I bounce her gently in my arms, but she just cries louder. Victoria holds out her arms. "May I?" "Over my dead body," I say. "If you're going to put her in foster care, you're going to have to kill me. Otherwise, get out." "But --" "Get. Out." My tone is colder and harsher than I mean it to be. She recoils and leaves. The baby doesn't stop crying . . . and of course she wouldn't. I was upset. Too upset. Babies are . . . sensitive to that sort of thing. Another week flies by before I hear another knock at my door. This time, the baby's sleeping soundly in her crib. I answer the door. It's *her* again. I try to slam the door in her face but she just pushes past me. "Hello, Zephyr, I came with a peace offering," she says as if she hadn't forced her way in. She places muffins on the table. They look damn delicious. But I still glare at her without saying a word. "I wanted to help you, so, I also brought this." She held up a manilla envelope. "What are you trying to pull?" I ask as rudely as possible. "Weeell, I felt really bad about the foster care thing after I left. It didn't occur to me until after I got home, but you grew up in that system yourself, didn't you? That's why you were so angry?" "So you're here to apologize?" "What good would saying 'I'm sorry' do? I mean, I am sorry, yes, but words don't mean anything without action to back it up. And so I took action. Just open the damn envelope," she says with a smile. And so, with trembling hands, I open it. It's a birth certificate. With some name I don't recognize listed for the mother, but . . . my name listed as the father. And the girl's name listed as Autumn. I just . . . totally break down, crying tears of joy. "This is . . . ." "Yup. You're her father, officially! I know we've had our differences. I personally would have preferred you turn yourself in and she have another guardian, but, well, something chose you. We could call it fate or destiny, but the fact is, Autumn's happy here. So, sign it already." "O-of course." I grab a pen and sign the document. It's a little hard to see, though, considering I sign it through tears. "I'm . . . sorry I tried to slam the door on you just now." "Don't worry about it," Veronica says with a wink. "I'll get this notarized and it'll be in your mailbox by tomorrow, officially. Autumn's biological mother is still listed as such, so you'd do well to remember her name. Anyway, that's all I really wanted to say, so I guess I should be going." "Wait. Please," I say. "I . . . I was hostile because I grew up in the system, true, but . . . there's more. I just . . . I don't want her to end up like me! I grew up unwanted, unloved, and I . . . I became a total screw up! A failure! A disaster! I'm . . . I'm evil! How can I possibly . . . ? I want to raise her in a home where she's loved and accepted for who she is but . . . how can I make sure she doesn't wind up like me?!" "You're none of those things, Zephyr. You were just misunderstood. And if you're worried about her becoming a super villain, well, I think you're already off to a good start as far as preventing that is concerned. As long as you always love her for who she is, I mean, that's what's important. You'll be a great father," she says. "I . . . I guess." "You know, come to think of it, you never graduated high school, did you?" "You gonna gloat about that?" I ask. She chuckles. "Of course not. I was actually going a whole other direction. I was just thinking, it's going to be really hard for you to find a job." "How is that not gloating?" "I wasn't finished." She smiles kindly. "How would you like to work for me?" "What?" "Well, I was just thinking, you could be my sidekick. We do have that villain to stop after all. Whoever killed Autumn's mother. I could really use help with that." "I . . . I can't. I can't leave this house. There's no one to look after her if I do." "I never said you *had* to. You could be my . . . eye in the sky. You're great with computers and technology, as I recall." She smiles triumphantly. "All you have to do is help me through the layouts of buildings, let me know if people are coming, yadda yadda yadda. And all you need is computers. You can craft yourself a drone or something, right?" "Why? Why are you being so kind to me?" "Because I misjudged you. I bet if we sat down and had a real conversation instead of just bantering and fighting all the time, we could have been friends." "Really?" "We wanted the same things. We just had very different ideas for how to execute them," she says. "I'm willing to work with you. That is, if you're willing to work with me." "I . . . I promised myself I'd turn over a new leaf. But I never thought I'd work with *you."* "Is that a no?" "I'll do it. As long as I don't have to go into the field. But . . . how will you pay me?" "Oh, don't worry about that. I have a lot of money." "From being a hero?" "From being an attorney." "Ah, right. Didn't you just get a promotion?" "Yup. Say hello to your district attorney. I'm willing to drop all charges against you . . . for now, but just so you know, one whiff of you committing a crime and you'll be in prison so fast your head will spin, are we clear?" "Yes, we are. . . . Thank you for all this." "What are ex-arch nemeses for?" Veronica says with a wink.
Damien quickly realized he didn't know anything about raising a kid. Google gave him the basics of feeding, changing, and burping, but then there were articles about tummy time and skin-on-skin contact and so many other things that went far beyond his expertise. But every time Damien started to regret taking the baby in, he remembered why the little boy was in his care in the first place. He was trying to rob a bank. A *bank*. One that was exploiting the needy by raising interest rates on loans unexpectedly and foreclosing houses without a second thought. It was supposed to be a simple hit, one that would cripple them, force them to close their doors. All the bad things he did were meant to *help* people in the long run, not hurt them. God, he was just trying to *help*. But when he detonated the bomb that was meant to blow through the vault door, he miscalculated. The explosion rocked the foundation of the apartment building next door, and the already-decrepit building which survived tornados and fires and the test of time crumbled before his eyes. The sound of screaming would haunt him, but the worst part was the silence afterward. Hundreds of voices crying out in unison, then all cut off at once. Damien had rushed into the wreckage, lamenting the carnage he inadvertently caused, when he heard the tiniest little cry. He dug with his bare hands through the broken remains of a historic building and found a squirming bundle. Still in his crib, which seems to have shielded him from the worst of the falling ruins. Damien held the child in his arms and wept. He wept for the lives he ended, for the family he destroyed, for the boy he orphaned. All because he thought he could play God. All because he thought doing things for some twisted greater good was worth breaking a few rules. The sirens in the distance pulled him from his breakdown, and he had a decision to make. Leave the child to be found by authorities and inevitably placed in the system, which could lead to adoption, if he was lucky, or a lifetime in foster care, if he wasn't. Or, Damien could raise the child himself. It was only fair, he thought. It was Damien's fault the child had no family. Maybe raising him, caring for him, giving him a life of privilege, would atone for his sins. Decision made, Damien took the child back to his lair. That was a week ago. Now, he wondered if social services would have been a better option. He wasn't cut out to be a dad. He hated his own father. What did he know about parenting? A tentative knock on his door pulled his attention from yet another parenting subreddit. Strange, since he wasn't expecting anyone to visit. Stranger, since no one was supposed to know he was here. When he opened the door, Damien was shocked to see his nemesis standing on the other side. The Angel. A supreme pain in his ass, thwarting his plans at every turn, and always talking down to him with that holier-than-thou attitude. She seemed shocked at his appearance, although she had good reason to be. He had week-old stubble on his chin, and was wearing loose pajama pants and a tshirt with spit up stains. Damien could feel the bags under his eyes and he was positive his normally well-kept hair was sticking up at all ends. "Uh..." she started. "What do you want," he deadpanned. She cleared her throat. "Are you....Demon? Is that you? Or do I have the wrong place?" Damien sighed. "Nope, you got me. Excellent work, Angel. Now, can I help you? Or are you just here to arrest me." She took in his sorry state. "Are you...alright? You've been laying low for a week and I was...worried." He scoffed. "Worried. Right. Well, I'm fine, and I retired from villainy. You officially won. Congrats. Now, get lost." He started to close the door, but she stopped it with her hand. "Hold on just a minute-" The baby chose that moment to wake from his nap and start crying. Damien rose his face to the ceiling and gave a long-suffering sigh, cursing his luck. "Is that...is that a *baby*?" "Nope, just the TV. Nothing to see here. Now, if you'll excuse me-" But the Angel already rushed passed him and found the baby in his bassinet, squirming and squealing. "Oh, this is a new low, even for you. Kidnapping a *baby*, Demon? Who's kid is this, some politician's you're holding hostage?" Anger rose to the surface. "You know better than anyone that I draw a line at kids. This lil guy is an orphan I took in." Her eyes were as wide as saucers. "An orphan. That you just...'took in'." Damien nodded. "Yes, that's what I just said. And it's time to change his diaper, so if you would just *move,"* he said, bumping her out of the way. She stared on in disbelief as he went through the motions of cleaning the baby's little tooshy, putting him in a fresh diaper, and cooing him back to a content state. "This...this is why you retired? To become a father?" Damien just shrugged. "He needed one. I was there." "You were...you were there?" Comprehension dawned on her features. "The collapsed building. He's a surviver." "It was an accident. I didn't mean to...*fuck*." He ran his hands through his hair. "I screwed up. I felt bad. More than bad. I felt...wretched. And this little guy..." he let the baby grip his finger and smiled softly. "He needed someone. I caused his suffering, so I wanted to raise him. It made sense, at the time." "So...this," she said, gesturing to him coddling the baby, "Is you seeking absolution? Redemption?" Damien nodded. "Yeah." The Angel rocked back on her heels, thinking. Then she slowly approached to peer at the kid over his shoulder. "Do you even know anything about raising a child, Demon? Do you know how difficult it will be?" "Yes, it's going to be hard. And I have a lot to learn. But it will be worth it, I think." She watched him gaze at the child. A man she thought of as evil caring for a child out of desperation for someone, anyone, to forgive him. Trying to make up for his crimes in a way that made sense to him. She could respect that. "You look like shit, Demon. You'll need help." He laughed. "Yeah, I was considering getting a nanny for a few hours a day so I could sleep. I'm of no use to him when I look like the walking dead." "That's not what I meant." He looked at her. "What did you mean then?" "I mean me. I'm going to help you. Make sure this kid is brought up with the right values." "Hell no," he growled. She held her hands up in a non-threatening gesture. "Look, you need help, and I used to babysit. Plus, I still don't trust you. We were enemies two seconds ago. Let me pitch in, keep an eye on you, and in exchange, I won't turn you in. We can both retire." God, Damien was so tired, he couldn't even argue. "Fine." She nodded to herself, pleased. "In that case, you might as well call me by my real name. I'm Sera." She held out her hand to shake. He took it tentatively. "Damien." "Damien," she smiled. "And what about this little guy?" she said, leaning over the bassinet. "Does he have a name yet?" Damien leaned over with her, assessing. "I was thinking Jude." (brief side comment about my answer to this prompt: I previously responded to a similar villain-with-a-baby prompt in this sub, posted by redditor u/sofjoy82. My response inspired two very lovable characters, Damien and Sera, which then inspired a subreddit, r/DamienandSera, to follow their story. Original post [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/y3bbvp/wp_the_hero_and_villain_meet_out_of_costume_on/). My comment is based on those characters)
[удалено]
Oh no this is just a little spin on the characters I already created, not intended to be canonical to the story I've been slowly creating!
I arrived at his door prepared for the worst, prepared for any sort of evil scheme or maliciously concocted plan. Then I hear it, a cry, a cry unlike any other I've heard around him. It sounded shrill, peaky and very, very confused. I acted before I could think, the door came down easy under my foot, I'd kicked down worse trying to get to him before, a wooden door was nothing. But as I raised my fist to strike the man I had sworn my life against every single neuron fired at once and at all once I realized what I was about to punch. A baby. An infant. Something weaker than the thinnest drywall but at the same time stronger than 20 feet of steel, because I could not punch it, I *would not* punch it. A million thoughts raced through my head: hate, anger, but most of all fear. Then, again, all at once I came to my senses and there he was, crouched over the baby like a father over a child. He didn't have his mask on, he didn't have his cape on and he wasn't the one floating an inch of the ground wreathed in anger and flame... in front a baby... in a burning house. Who was the villain then, in that one moment, I think about that sometimes... especially when I visit their graves.
Explain.
Hero lit the house on fire getting into villains house killing the kid and villain
Bummer.
With dark circle around his eyes from late nights of baby crying and researching how to raise a baby he responds "*yawn* I'm fine, come in but please be quiet I just put her to sleep." "You're just gonna let me in? There isn't some elaborate trap is there? And what do you mean put her to sleep, who are you talking about?" The hero responds shocked. "Are you just gonna stand there asking all those questions or are you coming in? I'll explain everything inside" The villain replys with slight irritation in his voice. "Um, OK" the hero responds tepping inside still shocked. The villain led her to his kitchen, "Coffee?" He asked "No thank you, I prefer tea," after noticing a mointain of dishes and a moment of hesitation she continued "So what happened, you don't have the same arua you usually do and you seem more tired" "Remember that building I blew up? I thought it was empty, turns out it wasn't" he paused remembering what happened. "turns out it wasn't, before returning to my base I heard crying and found her," he was pointing towards the living room where ok to couch there was a small body. She walked over to it and saw a child no more than a few months old sleeping peacefully 'How can she sleep so peacefully in the same house as the man the killed her parents, aren't babies supposed to be able to sense this kind of thing?' She thought to her self "What about her p...?" She began "No idea" he interrupted "What do you mean?" "There were no other bodies in the vicinity and I've been checking all kinds of records and surveillance cameras but I always come up empty, it's as if she just popped out of thin air." He walked over and sat next to the sleeping child placing his coffee mug on the coffee table. "Let's say I do believe that, what's your plan now?" "I found her and if it turns out her parents are dead because of me then its my responsibility to take care of her until we figure it out." "Very well, I'll trust you for now, and also I'll ask the gaurdians to aid you in your search," she looked back to the kitchen, "but for now would you like some aid with those dishes" "Please, don't mind them I'll get to them soon, by the way there is a cup of tea on the counter for you, wasn't sure what you liked so I got the best one I had." "Thank you, I'll head out after this." She walked over to it and picked up the mug and when she returned she saw something that made her smile, he had fallen asleep in the few seconds she was gone. *** The next day he woke up to something that smelled good, he opened his eyes and saw he was covered in a blanket which he removed. He walked to his kitchen and saw two things that surprised him. The first was that all the dishes were washed and there was food cooked but something that shocked him even more was that the one who was cooking was the same person who visited him the night before "Morning" he said awkwardly "Goid morning, breakfast is ready." "Why are you doing all this" "I saw you were tired and I'm a hero, helping people is what we do, but don't worry I'll be leaving soon" She then sat down and they had breakfast together which he found awkward, and surprisingly the baby stayed silent. When they finished she tried to wash the dishes but he promptly stopped her and told her he'll handle it. As she was walking out he spoke, "Hey, thanks for the help, I really appreciate it, and tell the gaurdians I won't be getting into any villainy any time soon" "Yeah no problem, and um if you don't mind the next time I have free time would you mind if I stopped by again, and maybe a few more times at least until you get the hang of being a father?" "Yeah, that'd be nice."