Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

In all honesty, you had suspected today to be an average day with no edit to your usual schedule besides a quick run to the store for milk.

Decked out in a warm turtleneck, some leggings, and a leather jacket, you had bought the milk with a soft ‘thank you’ and polite smile to the cashier. Sure, all you had received in return was a scowl and sniff from the acne-covered teenager, but at least you had been polite unlike some other customers that they had dealt with previously. Grinning, you patted yourself on the back. Earlier that day you had been working with one of your clients, teaching them a new technique with a paint brush and slowly allowing them to get used to the feel of paint on canvas. During the session, you had talked to your client, a middle-aged woman that went by Claire, and had spoken about the significance of a smile. Smiles could convey anything. And sure, they usually represented happiness but smiles could truly express anything.

A sad smile when you’re trying to bite back the tears.

An excited smile when you’re eager to show your friends a new story or artwork you had made.

A tense smile when you’re trying to hold back your anger.

A sugar-coated smile when you’re hiding the truth.

Smiles could represent anything.

Breathing out a light huff, you tucked your chin closer to your chest as the autumn breeze ruffled your hair. The cold wind was a bittersweet reminder that summer had ended and that winter was coming. The rustling of the plastic bag in hand caused you to shake yourself from said thoughts, remembering your prime motive: To return home and place the milk in its rightful place. The fridge. You were sure it wouldn’t curdle in such a short time nor in the brisk autumn weather, but you were never too sure after the milk incident. You shuddered at the memory of curdled milk in your mouth, gagging slightly at the thought. Never again would you leave a glass of milk out for nine hours and try to drink it the next morning.

Picking up your pace, your sneakers piped against the concrete pavement. God. Being an adult was hard. Having to buy your own milk and paying rent and going to work. It was so tedious! Of course, you relished in the joy and help you gave to every one of your clients. You enjoyed the freedom and ability to drive and walk home without supervision. However, after ten years of technical adulthood, you still found the idea of being an adult somewhat… Dreamlike? In your soul, you were almost one-hundred-percent still a child learning about what was morally good or bad. Even now, you had difficulties finding the thin line between good and evil. However, it wasn't your fault. In a world full of villains and heroes, the line was skewed at the least. The thought was perplexing and could be used in a philosophical debate but shrugging your shoulders subconsciously, you found that the idea was mere food for thought. Instead, you took to swinging the plastic bag lightly as the sun slowly set behind the tall buildings and inhaled a deep breath at the sight of the smoky sky.

You felt your shoulders relax. The tension vanished.

How mystifying. The sky usually was a light pink at this time in the evening.

You stopped short.

The sky usually wasn't ashy black. And sunsets didn’t usually involve smoke.

Your stomach plummeted.

A wail of a nearby ambulance hit your eardrums. The flashing lights caused dots to appear in your eyes, your hand having to shield the bright flashes from your naked corneas and your muscles tightened as the first few cries came from deeper in the central part of the city. The milk, which was now the last of the worries, fell from your fingertips as your legs turned towards the panicked screams. You were no hero, but you knew when help was needed. And amongst the panicked screams a loud sobbing could be heard and the soft wailing grew louder, accompanied by a blaring car alarm. You were met with a lungful of smoke as you stepped onto the crime scene. Coughing, you searched for the crying civilian. Others bumped into you and you were jarred side-to-side despite your best endeavours. You couldn’t blame the people pushing past you, trying to save their own lives. The cause for the chaos was most likely due to heroes messing about and having accidentally injured a nearby civilian (which was more common than you’d expect), or you had just stepped into a battle between villain and hero.

Moving closer to the soft sobbing, which was slowly dying by the second, the smoke thinned slightly and you were met with the sight of a crumbled building. The building, which you guessed once sat at least ten stories high, lay on the street in a jumble of wires, metal frames, burnt rubble and broken furniture. The sobbing was clearer now and you could see the lifeless hand of a crushed human in the mess.

You gulped and looked away. Death was common in the central part of the city, but it never changed how you felt about seeing a lifeless corpse.

A painful screech caught your attention and you drew away from the destroyed building. Turning towards the noise, your eyes caught sight of a hyperventilating man under a cage of copper wiring, concaving gravel and concrete. Scanning him over you could see a scar running over the left side of his face, his eye having caught the blunt of a metal pipe as blood welled up and seeped into the pores of his skin. The loose building structure appeared to be pinning him to the ground with his leg sticking out in an awkward position, a metal pole sticking through his calve.

You had never been a fan of blood.

Your eyes met and never had you seen such desperation on a human’s face before. Your legs moved before you could even comprehend your actions. The man lay staring up at you with his one remaining eye and despite your instincts telling you to run, your hands scrambled to pull off the cracking material. The man was watching you, his eye welling up with tears of relief and joy at someone, anyone, coming to save him. The gravel dug into your nails and you could feel it rubbing against your skin, creating small scratches and indents. Finding a large copper wire, you quickly evaluated its effectivity in helping you free the man. If you were to pull it the concrete structure would collapse and crush his chest cavity. You moved away from the wire immediately.

“Don’t cry, you need to breathe calmly otherwise you might panic and bump the structure,” you told soothingly, hoping that your 'therapy voice' would allow him some comfort. The man nodded and he bit his lip in an attempt to calm himself, showing that your attempts were working.

Finding a large but easily removable piece, you lifted the rubble away and tugged at the wires, freeing his injured leg. The man seemed to breathe in relief at the loss of weight. You continued to the curved structure trapping his pelvis, tugging at the thick metal bar and cutting yourself in the process. The bar bent enough for you to place it on your shoulder and use your whole weight to push it off. It fell with a clang and some of the rubble fell closely behind, your hands now able to slip under the large rubble that kept the man pinned to the road. Heaving, your muscles straining from the weight, you successfully removed the concrete and the man began sobbing again.

You focused on his arms and remaining leg instead of his tears.

Some of the wiring had become tangled, some of it having cut through his skin and muscle. You blanched and grit your teeth together, whispering an apologetic ‘sorry’ as you tugged the wire out slowly. The man screeched in pain until the short but thick piece had been fully removed, luckily not having caught on any of his torn muscle. You waited for his breathing to slow and immediately moved onto the other arm, pulling at some wired mesh, the rubble falling off easily and freeing his arm. The man attempted to sit up but you pushed him down gently. You sent him a pleading look and he obliged, his chest heaving as blood seeped from his wounds and tears fell from his eye as you crawled down to his remaining leg, finding more wired mesh and you shoved some concrete off with your shoulder. Your fingers slipped between the mesh holes and tugged at it, your breath turning laboured as the mesh finally gave way and you pulled it away from the man’s leg. His slow breathing turned to jagged sobbing again as he tried to sit up, a relieved smile on his features.

You knelt before him and slowly eased him up, the metal sticking out of his dislocated leg and causing him grief as he grit his teeth. He leant against your shoulder as you kept an arm under his own and a hand on his chest, keeping him steady. Keeping him close, you maneuvered through the smoke as laboured breathes filled the air and a cackle came from close behind. Tears stung your eyes as your steps increased in rate, the man attempting to keep up as his breathing became panicked and his eyes darted to you and back into the smoke. You inhaled slowly, preventing coughing from the smoke, and continued towards where you thought you came from.

“Alas QuickMetal,” a voice taunted from the darkness surrounding you and your casualty. “It appears that we have met again, haven’t we?” A towering body appeared from inside the smoke and you felt all hope wash away as a dark grey entity emerged. Its eyes gleaming with an almost criminally insane-psychotically induced emotion.

You had thought-

You didn’t actually think-

You thought he was retired-

Standing metres away stood the notorious Black Hat, the most feared villain that any civilian, hero or villain could ever meet, an ominous grin decorating his grey-skinned features. His waistcoat was primped as ever, almost the exact same from the paintings and photos you had seen of him, and his shoes looked like they had been recently polished. His dark eyes were taunting as they scanned the smoke before eventually landing on you and your straggler. They seemed to widen, from surprise or excitement, but you found yourself pleasantly unsurprised. You were coated in gravel, dirt, and blood leaking from the man leaning on your shoulder. You remained still, the warm liquid sticking your clothes to your skin and the man in your arms on the verge of hyperventilating.

You made a light noise with your tongue as the awkward silence followed.

Where was a superhero when you need them?

“Uh, wrong person?"

Black Hat seemed on the verge of surprise at your casual response, his face morphing into one of annoyance and confusion as he studied you. You glanced between him and the man bleeding out in your arms, the urgency causing you to step forward cautiously. When BlackHat made no move, you led the man to the left of Black Hat, your movements slow moreso for the benefit of your companion. As Blackhat remained still, his eyes calculating as he leant on his cane, your fingers twitched, a blue disk the size of a poker chip slipping from under your sleeve.

“I can see that, you petty mortal.”

Your throat restricted at the raspy voice and turned towards the demon, his eyes glaring harshly. He grinned wickedly. You smiled back shakily, seeming to throw him off if the furrowed eyebrows said anything. Gripping the blue disk tightly in your scathed fingers you turned away and walked past him, stopping briefly to take one final glance.

“Uh, thanks for not killing us.” You smiled back at the ruthless villain, prepared if he attempted to attack you. However, the eldritch seemed puzzled at your actions and his scowl deepened at the sight of your relaxed smile.

“Take this as appreciation.” You flicked the blue disk with your thumb and much to your own surprise, Black Hat reached out and caught it. He glared down at the small object and you saw his fingers tighten, almost crushing the poker-shaped disk.

“I wouldn’t do that. The magnetic field of the forcefield will backfire and flatten you, despite you being a demon and all.”

Black Hat’s eyebrows rose, his expression almost impressed yet doubting.

“Yeah, um. Push the middle and it activates a forcefield in mere seconds,” you began to sweat and the man in your grasp groaned, slipping from the moisture on your skin. “You can also- uhm- throw it to protect others… If you needed too…” You trailed off and looked down at the man in your grasp. Shaking your head, you heaved him up higher and pressed a hand against the gaping wound in his arm. You were honestly surprised he hadn’t passed out from pain or bloodloss.

“Uhm, yeah,” you sent an awkward smile Black Hat’s way. “See you, I guess?” You asked uncertainly. “Hope the forcefield helps. Uh, bye.” Pulling the limping man by his arms, you exited through the smoke and towards civilisation. The man murmured a series of random words, most the same thing being repeated again and again. He seemed to find a weird comfort in slurring out ‘you must be crazy’, ‘I can’t believe you talked to a villain’ or ‘thank you’.

Once in kind company, the man was taken and carried towards hospital hurriedly, his remaining eye now much hazier than before. You wished the best for him and his family, watching the emergency crew flutter about him with IV-poles and blood bags. You were also abruptly pulled in and checked over, your hands having to be dressed in salve and bandages, and your clothes changed into a pair of starched shorts and an over-sized shirt.

Being escorted to an empty hospital room, you were placed on a residential bed and a needle was hooked into your wrist, the needle barely noticeable besides the long cable as the morphine kicked in. You hadn't even noticed the pain you were in. It had appeared that you had injured yourself further than anticipated. And as the morphine slowly seeped into your system, during the momentary drug-induced coma, you realised that overall you had saved a man, had a mostly one-sided conversation with a villain and gave said, villain, a prototype of a portable forcefield you had been working on.

And to think that after all of this, you still hadn’t any milk in the fridge.

__

The stiff hospital sheets shifted uncomfortably against your bruised skin and the itchy comforter did little to comfort you as your body became relatively cold from the thin white-washed bedding. Not to mention that the rigid bed caused you to writhe from the numbing pain in your back, accompanying your aching wrist, which appeared relatively bruised from the needle embedded in your vein.

You shuddered with a passing glance.

An impatient huff left your lips as you belittled yourself for getting caught up in the removal of rubble off a man and ending up in hospital. Your ribs and hands were now having to pay the price. Your fingers were relatively bruised from the shifting and removal of rubble that could have been classed as reckless ‘heavy lifting’, as was your skin shredded and torn all over your palms and mildly over the back. You seemed to have also twisted your ankle somehow, probably from the strenuous carrying of your casualty and kicking rubble away from his pinned body. An ankle support was latched onto your right ankle and you glared at it. Therefore, you were labelled as ‘bed-ridden’.

But you were bored.

And thirsty.

You wondered if they had any milk?

An uncomfortable smile formed at your silent thought. The hospital had been kind enough to call your workplace to explain the situation, thus you couldn’t complain much or use work as an excuse to leave the white-walled room. Not even for milk. A quiet series of huffs and groans filled the barren room, only silenced when the single entry opened to reveal a nurse dressed in the usual white outfit that most hospital workers wore. He smiled politely and revealed the cart of food he was delivering, causing saliva to collect in your mouth.

“Hungry?” He joked, seeming to lighten the mood. His tone was pleasant and the wrinkles around his mouth showed obvious signs of ageing, however, they were another indication that he was a happy individual with how deep they stood against his dark skin.

“Starving,” you replied simply. The two of you smiled in response and the nurse shifted the cart nearer your bed. He assisted you in sitting up, his hands large and well-maintained, keeping you balanced on the clean hospital pillows. Once situated comfortably, he pulled a tray off the cart and placed it on the table on the left side of your bed, keeping it relatively close.

“Would you like me to pass you the TV remote?” He asked, picking up the black rectangular object with several brightly coloured buttons. You nodded, answering with a casual ‘yeah, thanks’, finally provided with a source of entertainment now that the blasted remote was in your reach. The nurse nodded in turn, placed the remote on your bedside table and promised his return in around a half hour. He patted your shoulder gently, careful of your injuries, and exited the room with the metal cart. The distinct smell of multiple meals ebbed down to the plate of roast beef and potatoes with barely salvageable vegetables piled a mile-high on the plastic. A small dish sat to its upper right filled with custard and crumble. The glass sitting on said tray was filled with plain bottled water, much to your dismay.

Why you had been craving milk recently was truly a mystery to yourself and others.

It wasn’t even your favourite drink.

“Well, it’s better than nothing,” you muttered to yourself and cut into the meat. It was well-cooked and held an almost indistinguishable flavour, but you had worse. Okay, the potatoes were pretty good. Crunchy yet still soft and warm on the inside. And the gravy that had been slavered over the meat helped it in travelling down your throat and you found yourself daydreaming as you devoured the whole plate.

What would happen once you would leave hospital and return to work?

How long until you started working again?

Would people ask how you had been injured?

Would they naturally presume it was from the fight between QuickMetal and Blackhat?

Ugh. You didn’t want to explain to the rude receptionist that you received the injuries by helping a man from under a pile of rubble during the fight last Friday. She would most likely upturn her obnoxiously long nose and make a snide comment about your actions, saying that you wouldn’t have been injured if you would find a sensible partner that would do such strenuous work for you or that would make you act accordingly and not run head first into danger.

She could run head first into your fist any day.

You sighed. No, that wouldn’t help anything and she would most likely sue you for assault. Besides, she was nearly seventy (why she hadn’t retired was a mystery that you and your colleagues questioned daily) and was most likely raised to believe that there were certain people made to do physical work and that you were not one of those ‘people’. Whatever that meant. The idea had you nearly rolling your eyes to the back of your head.

Stuffing an overboiled piece of broccoli into your mouth, you gagged and swallowed the slimy green that was labelled as a ‘vegetable’. Shivering in disgust, you placed that as a close second on your list of gross food experience. The milk incident remained the top dog on said list.

Fumbling for the remote as you gulped down the majority of water, you pressed the large red power button and watched as the small screen parallel to your bed flickered on. The volume was relatively low and you pushed down on the volume button, the volume setting forming on the screen.

‘… The death of QuickMetal. Many fans, family members and friends have gathered around the 27th Suit Boulevard in memory of our fallen hero…’ The news presenter spoke precisely, no clear emotion expressed on their blank face. Their co-host seemed to copy their attitude besides the frequent fiddling with their buttons.

Your eyebrows rose in surprise.

Last you checked, QuickMetal was alive and well. The superhero wasn’t named ‘QuickMetal’ just out of coincidence. When she was in danger she could run at the speed of 400 miles per minute. How that worked in biology was deemed unexplainable and left down to her mutant genetics. Hell, she could outrun a common small rocket. And it was only four days ago she was battling a demon entity! To imagine that she had died in the short span of tim-

Your thought process silenced.

“When did she die?” You murmured lowly, turning the volume up a few more points. The news reporters seemed to have moved on tp the renovation of said street, showcasing the damaged buildings surrounding the gravesite of SuitCity’s old hero.

Your heart lurched.

The collapsed building centre view was the same structure you had seen the body of a dead civilian buried in. Instead of a pale hand though, there were dozens of bouquets lining the paths and lamps outside the building. A large poster had been plastered against one of the remaining walls of the building.

‘… It has been told that QuickMetal’s secret identity was that of Angelica Tailor, a member of the famous Tailor retailers. The family has asked that no one mention their loss for the time being and ask for as much privacy as possible during this period of grieving…’

You found yourself rolling your eyes.

If they wanted privacy, you don’t reveal their name or loss on public television. Most of humanity and monsterkind were kind. They would send letters and flowers that express their sorrows and how they wish the family ‘good health’, but they would also not be obeying the families’ wish for privacy. And if that information was overheard by a villain, the villain may seek out the remaining family members.

You shuddered at the thought of such bloodshed.

‘… In an anomalous turn of events, the northern area of SuitCity has not been captured or enslaved by the nefarious villain, Black Hat, who was presumed retired. Northern SuitCity has remained untouched. It appears that after killing QuickMetal, Blackhat rapidly made an escape with his few minions and did not retu-’

You switched the channel over.

A brightly coloured cartoon appeared on the screen and the theme song blared loudly, causing you to scramble for the volume button.

Time to distract yourself with animated characters instead.

Chapter Text

Tap-tap.

Tap-tap.

Tap-tap-tap.

Black Hat glowered down at his work, the pen in his hand slowly breaking as large ink blotches spilt from the cracking cartilage. His eyes raised as the fire-resistance, bomb-deflecting and low-density door creaked open from overexertion. The metal groaned and the cracked wood seemed to splinter ever-so-slightly as the omnipresent fan of his entered, her heterochronic eyes wide and deranged as ever. The same psychotic smirk stretched over her lips once again.

He heaved a sigh, exasperated.

“What is it Demencia? I don’t have time for your shenanigans,” he rasped and flicked a piece of pencil-shaving her way. “Go bother Doctor Flug if need be.” In return, the multi-coloured woman sauntered up to his desk with a wink, her usual mischievous smile in place.

“But Black Hat,” Demencia drawled. The noise grated on his nerves as she leant forward and sent him a wink, “Captain Hook has arrived for his ten am appointment.” Her grin broadened and Demencia blew a raspberry, cackling dementedly as she raced out the room. A chair smashed against the doors just as she escaped. The dark entity glowered at the mess in annoyance, writing himself a note to command 5.0.5 to clean it up later.

The note was stuck to the front of his planner and the eldritch slumped further into the velvet chair. A hand slid down his face. Demencia aside, it was the fifth appointment Black Hat had rescheduled with the so-called ‘Captain of the Jolly Roger’ and much to his dismay, Hook seemed rather reluctant to stop the appointments until he found only the best weapon that would annihilate the menacing Peter Pan from Netherland.

Demencia appeared to find humour in referring to Hook as the Captain of the ‘not-so-Jolly Roger’.

The memory of Doctor Flug reprimanding her whilst both were still dressed in their pyjamas and slippers (or lack thereof in Demencia’s case. Black Hat refused to allow her to keep buying them if she would only chew on them like a dog), waiting for 5.0.5 to serve them breakfast whilst in a maid outfit of all things had a headache forming in seconds. His employees, whilst rather effective when it came to work, were nothing but nuisances in the meantime.

Doctor Flug was a brilliant scientist. A man of unmentionable IQ but poor social etiquette. He was a constant nervous mess and basically radiated anxiety. But then again, he could be ruthless. Oh-so ruthless. In addition, Flug could create anything. Even weapons that bent the whims of physics and the laws of nature, such as their newest project: The Anti-Gravity Device (which should have been a ray but alas, the scientist found a device simpler and it sold almost instantly in auction). Yet, it seemed Doctor Flug was a ditzy enough scientist that he couldn’t even remember to install an off button for a home security system! Simpleton.

Then there was 5.0.5. An experiment created in hopes of utter destruction and chaos. Instead, Black Hat had earnt himself an oversized cyan blue carebear with a daisy- of all things!- on top of their head. But it wasn’t even the disposition of said experiment that repulsed him, as Black Hat had learnt in earlier days that cute things were more efficient when hunting prey. No. 5.0.5 just had to be the most attention-starved, cuddly and blithering creature on the planet. And they worked for him, an evil scheming conqueror of worlds! The only thing 5.0.5 was remotely good at was cooking and chores.

And finally, there was Demencia. An ex-convict and escapee experiment who had an obsession orbited around Black Hat himself. She said she was ‘devoted’ and ‘in love’ with him, much to Black Hat’s aggravation. She was uncouth, a nuisance in general and her brightly-coloured punk clothing made her stand out boldly in a crowd. The only reason Black Hat refused to kick her out was the undying devotion to protect him, the manor and her fellow minions. She was quick-witted, much to his own surprise at first, and her reptilian glands made her a fast and accurate assassin. Even if her short attention span made her easily side-tracked.

Rubbing the frontal lobes of his cortex, Black Hat grit his teeth and rose from his seat, moving away from his desk. Keeping a potential customer waiting was poor businessman-ship. No matter how many times you had met the customer. It was a simple procedure. He would tell Captain Hook his new products and sales, try to negotiate and (eventually) sell him a product or have him leave for Black Hat’s next appointment (and sanity).

Seizing the red-accented planner from on his desk, the eldritch’s claws collided against a small object. The small cling had his gaze falling onto the item from pure instincts. The small blue disk contrasted intensely against his ‘finely kept’ desk. It was thin and light, almost hidden from sight under the pages of paperwork, folders and a disarray of pens and quills with ink pots scattered over the desk’s surface.

Black Hat scowled.

He thought he had thrown that waste of materials away.

‘Forcefield’ his arse.

Sliding it off the expensive oak, the blue shinned faintly in the dimmed light and Black Hat found himself studying the poker-shaped rip-off with great depth. Its centre was surely denser than its edges. The outer ring was transparent with a blue filter and seemed to gleam brighter than the blue surface that sat between his thumb and index finger. The colour was almost the same shade as 5.0.5’s fur and it was designed like a small round shield. Its aesthetic was purely hero-themed.

The demon scowled.

“Might as well approach Doctor Flug about some new material. He seems to appreciate any waste metal or glass that he can use,” Black Hat elucidated to himself, glaring at the offending object, and slipped the item into his breast pocket. He would first approach Captain Hook about a new weapon that he was sure would finally defeat Peter Pan once and for all. Maybe that would satisfy the short-tempered villain.

Or so Black Hat had thought.

Captain Hook assuredly lived up to his prestigious and picky nature.

“Good doing business with you, Captain Hook. Please call me when you have the time to discuss another appointment,” Black Hat announced formally. He extended his fingers out, allowing the Captain to shake his hand briefly and be on his way, sending Black Hat a chipper smirk. By now the villain was purely annoying him. He was sure that at this rate, the work would simply be in vain. No invention of his was enough for the pompous pirate. He had offered the freeze ray- a classic! The Captain could freeze Peter Pan in mid-air and allow him to drown in the bottomless waves, but apparently if Hook missed he could put some of his crewmates out of commission. Or he may keep missing the Lost boy leader until the ray ran out of power.

So Black Hat had offered his spybots. They would allow Captain Hook to find where the lost boys' hideout was and to infiltrate it, killing all of them in the process. Instead, Hook argued that if the lost boys found the bots then they could use them against Hook instead.

Black Hat proceeded with the Dark-matter Gun, stating that it would cause Peter Pan to be swallowed up in darkness and to be paralyzed for a brief period of time. This seemed to interest Hook until he passed it up because the ‘brief period of time’ wasn’t stated in numbers and he was concerned about how quick the Pan boy would heal.

Black Hat even offered the assistance of Demencia, but not even THAT was enough to satisfy the Captain of Netherland.

As his office door closed, Black Hat’s professional mannerisms fell. He slumped, legs spread wide under his desk, his hat tipped back to showcase the small bowler hat underneath. His shoulders were hunched and the muscles in his back strained and stretched as he rose from the plush chair, twisting his spine as a series of resounding cracks filled the silent office. The short-lived relief washed through his system and caused his uninviting expression to lighten into a soft grimace. With one hand, he scratched at the corner of his mouth and slid it back into his coat pocket, searching for the red pen he had been using to write down the notes of Captain Hook’s wishes. With one brush of his finger, Black Hat was struck with the realisation that he still adhered the blue ‘forcefield’ chip.

Well, he mused. Walking would do him some good. Hunching over a desk may not give Blackhat any health implications, still, it wasn’t an overly comfortable sensation for his spine. And it would allow Black Hat to terrorise Doctor Flug in all his fame and glory. The thought was the final straw and he glided out the door. Flipping the chip with his thumb, Black Hat steered it into his breast pocket and began his stroll to the lab, which sat three stories below in the depths of the basement. The large but cosy space seemed to keep Flug’s anxiety in check, the doctor having found that the basement was more soundproof and mildly safer than the rest of the Manor. Especially when it came to keeping experiments inside the lab and nuisances outside.

Demencia had truly perfected the art of disturbing other employees and her boss.

Slipping into the lab with his coat trailing behind, Black Hat’s eyes skimmed the large space and eventually landed on the minion hunched underneath a table with electrical wiring hanging down. Moving over silently, the eldritch remained quiet, waiting until Doctor Flug seemed almost finished and then announced his presence.

“Good afternoon, Doctor.”

The large bang and mumbled cursing had Black Hat grinning maliciously. He gathered that the Doctor hadn’t hit his head but had rather jolted and damaged his paper bag or shoulders. His answer was revealed when Flug wheeled out from under the table, his bag bunched up around the top of his head and a pair of dishevelled goggles peered up at him.

“Sir?” The educated mad scientist fumbled over the syllables and scrambled, attempting to stand up to meet Black Hat’s eyes properly other than whilst on the floor. “What brings you here?” Doctor Flug questioned and Black Hat sent a warning glare.

He shrunk down.

“I have a project for you.” The demon pulled the blue item from his pocket and threw it to Flug, the scientist struggling to catch it. “Either research this material or make a useful item with it. I expect good results, Doctor~” Black Hat drawled mockingly, watching the scientist squirm uncomfortably from the sudden experiment thrust into his hand. “I was told it was a portable forcefield, although I hold my doubts,” he continued, waving a hand absentmindedly.

“A FORCEFIELD?” Black Hat found himself somewhat surprised at the enthusiasm in his scientist’s voice, the excitement having formed at the mere mention of a forcefield. Doctor Flug was gazing at the small object in his gloved hands as if it was the holy grail.

“Yes, it was what I was told,” Black Hat clarified. “Whether it is or is not is another motive I wish for you to uncover,” he continued and altered his collar whilst still speaking. “Good luck, Doctor Flug. I imagine the materials will be useful in some of our future inventions.” He sent Flug one last heart-pounding glare. “Do not disappoint me.” And stalked out the door with a flare of his coat.

The project better be worth his time.

__

Awaking in your own bed was by far the best feeling in the world.

Relishing in the warmth for a few minutes, you found that your body wasn’t ready to fall back asleep and chose to shuffle out the warm bedroom onto the chilly landing. Hobbling down the carpeted stairs you savoured the comfort of your own home. Your arm made a soft click and the floor greeted you with the cold sensation of poor indoor heating. Glad you were wearing socks, the familiar smells and textures made you feel so much better with all your scrapes and bruises. Actually, that might have been the ointment you had been applying to said scrapes and bruises, but the sentiment was still there!

You chuckled as you flicked the switch on the coffee machine, watching the light flicker on and alerting you that the coffee machine had powered on whilst you busied yourself with riffling through the numerous number of mugs in your cabinets. Pulling out your favourite of the mix, you slid the chocolate powder capsule into the machine slot and pressed the drink button. A soft huff escaped your parted lips as the hot chocolate frothed in your preferred mug.

Some coffee machine if you never made coffee in it.

An unattractive snerk accompanied the sound of steaming liquid and you shifted onto your steadier ankle. Pulling the steaming mug from under the machine, you inhaled the delicate scent and beamed wildly, “God, if you want to kill me, I’m ready. I have my elixir of life right here!” You cackled and brought the rim to your lips. The warm foam caused your mind to reel from euphoria.

This is why you needed milk. For hot chocolate. Nothing else.

Hot chocolate is love.

Hot chocolate is life.

Downing the whole mug in one go, you pulled the ceramic cup from your face and revealed the foam moustache that you now adorned. Your reflection was mighty fine if you did say so yourself. The taste was also mighty fine, you declared with a quick swipe over your upper lip and shoved the mug back under for another cup of hot chocolate.

It had been forever since you could relax like this.

No chaos.

No villains.

No injured civilians.

Just peace and quiet.

Limping out of the kitchen with your new batch of the manufactured drink, you headed towards the living room to pick up the set of blueprints you had left scattered over the carpet from before your run-in with Black Hat and the hospital. You would have picked them up sooner if it hadn’t been from the hospital releasing you quite late last night, your friend having picked you up as payment for working his shift the month prior. At least on the car ride home, he had been able to fill you in with all the job-gossip you had missed in your week absence.

The plus of your week off?

The cranky old receptionist was finally retiring!

… In four weeks, but who's counting?

The two of you had jammed out to some music as celebration and he had even bought you some fast food from the drive-through at SuitCakes. Because who didn’t love pancakes at eight-thirty in the evening? And you could always appreciate the pun of ‘suitcases’ and ‘pancakes’ with their manufactured butter that were shaped into little briefcases. And it was situated in SUIT City.

You loved whoever came up with these puns.

Bending down, you hummed and placed your mug onto a nearby table before gathering the scattered papers in gentle handfuls and rolled them up into the appropriate shape for transport. Scanning over a few equations, you shoved them into the crook of your elbow until the blue sheets had basically filled your arms to the brink by the time all of them had been collected. You proceeded to stumble out the living room and towards your workshop (being mindful of your ankle whilst doing so). The mixture of pen, pencil and card blocked your view as you carefully manoeuvred around the corners of your home, trying not to walk into any walls or hit your hip on any pointy ledge. You didn’t need any more bruises with how you were looking right now.

Juggling the large wad of blueprints in one arm, you blindly reached for the door handle of your workshop and hissed as the metal bumped into a wound on your skin (which was still bandaged). Cursing quietly, you seized the handle and shoved it open, searching for the light and eventually flicking it on. The wall lights wavered and revealed the neatly-kept room with a slightly dusty desk cluttered with prototypes, one or two photos, and a large whiteboard covering the opposing wall, still containing a few simple equations (and doodles) drawn in blue pen.

Your eyes gleam excitedly at the welcoming sight.

“MY WORKSHOP. HOW I’VE MISSED YOU.” You dumped the blueprints on the desk and swiped at the surface with your sleeve, grinning at the few prototypes distributed around the place. Shrugging good-naturedly the curtains on your left fluttered from the slight draft that came through the semi-opened window. You tutted at your own stupidity for keeping the window open, thankful it hadn’t rained in the past five days. That would have been a pain to mop up and the box of your random invention ideas would have been ruined, leaving a box of soppy blue card and ruined eureka moments that would never occur.

Closing the window, you pushed the curtains back to allow more light to flood into your workshop. Or laboratory. Nah, a workshop sounded more casual. Less villainous. A laboratory sounds like you were a mad scientist planning on how to take down humanity, whereas you were nowhere close to a villain! Nor a hero, actually. You were a simple human, a fellow civilian, trying to make the best of life and with a natural talent for engineering and designing, and you just wanted everyone to be safe and happy. Not a very villainous thing to do.

You wanted the civilians of Suit City, Hat Town, the Blouse District and many other destinations to be safer from villains’ tirades and heroes’ faults. Your current project, a small red forcefield prototype, sat glaringly obvious against the white surface as you schemed, its blue counterpart missing from its side. You frowned at the missing brother.

“Ah well, I can always make another I suppose!”

With the rate you had been producing the prototypes, you’d have the final project finished and duplicated in no time. Your overall aim was to ensure the safety of harmless civilians. Sure, you had a job outside of inventing- being an art therapist- but you didn’t take a major in engineering psychology and a minor in art for nothing. And eventually, the civilians of SuitCity would be safe from the destruction and death with forcefields that could be carried around in their pockets... After you had made enough advertisements for them and had manufactured an adequate amount to be sold at a steady rate.

So if helping peoples’ mental health during the day and working on your personal projects to protect peoples’ physical health in the evening was the best way to make a decent income, then so be it. You sure weren’t giving up your job just to become a full-fledged scientist in this economy. But eventually, maybe you could run your own business of civilian-orientated defence gadgets. Others had done so with villain and hero businesses. Just imagining the outcome if you hadn’t run towards the danger last Friday, if you hadn’t saved that man’s life, was enough for you to continue your work and to throw yourself back into the research of the vacuum of space and particle manifestation.

One day you’d protect all of humanity from a high-end building with large stairways, workshops, labs and have an entire company dedicated to the protection of civilians and cities. Of course, that was wishful thinking. In the meantime, you would be happy to run a small home business for your friends and co-workers. Just not the receptionist. She wouldn’t be allowed any orders. You laughed at your own absurdity and shifted the bandages tightly wrapped around your palm. Now, if only you would heal faster. The bandages and ankle-support were slowing you down terribly. Plus, it hurt. And you weren’t the keenest on pain. Or blood. Or needles. Basically, anything that involved cuts, wounds, blood or sharp objects being inserted into your body.

For now, you’d just have to work hard through the pain.

“Ow, dammit!”

Even if it included shocking yourself in the process and causing a slight dent in your motivation. Nevertheless, it was surely the leastshocking of events that were beginning to unravel as a sleep-deprived scientist fought against exhaustion, calculating the molecular capacity of an unexplainable experiment that his boss had abruptly pushed into his hands. The gamma-ray powered microscope assisted him in his research but the results still remained indefinite.

“ ‘Do not disappoint me’ he said. ‘A forcefield’ he said,” Flug muttered out irritably. Why Black Hat had offered him an experiment that he had randomly been given was unknown to Flug, as he was sure that Black Hat knew he had purchased a whole new inventory of metal, plastic and glass only a few days ago, and it sure wasn’t appreciated. Flug was constantly running on low sleep levels and high caffeine intakes, so having Black Hat think ‘oh I’ll just give Doctor Flug more work!’ randomly, was not something Flug batted an eye at. He was used to being worked to the bone.

“Next thing you know, he’ll ask me to alter the resonance of souls or to create portable black holes!” Flug ranted as he lifted the small token from its place on the microscope slide. “Actually, I might write that down,” he mused and scribbled down ‘portable blackholes’ on an old pad of paper, the chip still in his grasp. Drawing back from the pad, Flug grimaced at the pains that were starting in his lower back. “Maybe I should head to bed?” A sore back and a sleep-deprived mind was something Flug had dealt with in the past and it was very unpleasant. He hummed and flipped the chip over, murmuring under his voice, “I might as well try one more time before I got to sleep.” Twirling the thin poker-shaped chip in his gloved-hands, Doctor Flug pressed the centre of the ring once more, double checking he hadn’t missed anything. The chip made a very small creak in protest to the pressure and he stopped. He had tried everything to get the forcefield to ‘activate’, so what did he have to do to make it work?

“Heeey,” the tired twang of Demencia’s voice had Flug freezing in an instant. He had forgotten the reptilian woman had been having a power nap with 5.0.5 on the further side of the lab. Peering over his shoulder, the eccentric female grinned and chucked her arms over his shoulders, pushing her weight onto his spine and causing Doctor Flug to grunt. “Are you still messin’ around with that forcefield thing-y?” She giggled and buried her face into his lab coat, some of her drool wiping off onto the pristine cotton. Flug drooped his shoulders and pet his fellow minion on her untameable mop of red hair. No matter how crazy she was or how overly obsessed with their boss she was, Demencia was a nice constant in Flug’s chaotic life. As was 5.0.5, but at least he could properly communicate with Demencia without having to use sign language and struggling to understand the signs because of large bear claws.

“I’ve tried everything!” Flug fumed. “I’ve pushed it, I’ve scanned for hidden buttons or hidden compartments,” he continued. “I even used the microscope and an x-ray! I’m not sure whether Black Hat is messing with me or not. Maybe the chip is just an interesting hero fashion item,” he rambled and trailed off in defeat.

Demencia hummed against his shoulder and slipped her fingers between the creases of Flug’s gloves. Her nimble digits picked up the item, much to Doctor Flug’s protest, and she shoved her hand harshly into its side. The chip split apart and Flug nearly cursed until it flipped and the metal crossed each other to form a curved X-shape. A surge of particle matter pulsed from the object and passed through Flug and Demencia, keeping them trapped in a dome of cyan blue gamma rays that spread out up to four metres.

Doctor Flug felt Demencia grin widely against his shoulder blade.

“You’re welcome! ~”

Chapter Text

The fire-wielding torch projected blistering flames onto the new prototype forcefield, the white metal melding together perfectly and causing the steel to sit faultlessly against the tinted plastic around its centre. The two black lines running around the central switch had a very 90s aesthetic to it.

The overall product was seemingly perfect and contained no faults so far. It was by far the most flawless forcefield you had made to this very moment in time. And it even had added features, unlike your originals, something that had suddenly occurred to you earlier that very morning. These forcefields were designed to protect citizens and to deflect attacks (but at a much lighter range), much like your originals.

But- This version.

This version protected citizens, yes, but it could actually absorb the energy from harmful attacks and the particles could be transferred and converted into other forms of energy. This energy could then be coded into other weapons in the vicinity (if the data was compatible- you still had to work that minor detail out) and used as a firearm.

However, you digress.

The new modifications could save nearby heroes, protect civilians and lessen property damage!

You couldn’t wait to test it.

Switching the torch off, you tossed it lightly between your hands as it cooled and eventually placed it on your work shelf with your other engineering tools. Tugging the face-guard over your head to reveal your unscathed skin, you shook your hair out and allowed the sweat-ridden strands to settle into a less uncomfortable state. The cool sensation caused you to let out a pleasant hum and weaving your gloved digits through the damp mess and left the metal casing to cool, followed up by the thick working gloves that were ripped off your constricted digits. Your fingers flexed underneath the clammy bandages and a subtle pout surfaced on your lips at the twinging pain.

The gloves were thrown carelessly over the bench and you ignored their presence, opting to hobble out the room whilst gripping to the corridor wall for balance. You hadn’t fully healed yet and had badly damaged the fibres of the tendon in your ankle, the Doctor’s having said that your ankle would be very sore and take at least a month to heal properly. Then about 3 more months for it to be fully functional again. Even then you would most likely be forced to wear an ankle support for another month or two.

Just another thing you were planning to belittle yourself over.

Groaning, your mouth fell into a childish grimace as you passed the kitchen door.

You stopped.

Your eyes widened in realisation and a bemused smile settled on your lips. Looking over your shoulder, you stared at the wide space.

Surely, if you were that severely battered it meant you could now order takeout and not be judged for it due to your injury. Because cooking was so strenuous.

Grinning at the aspect of ordering some Cufflinks, the most gluttonous pizza place in Suit City, you settled into the welcoming embrace of your living room sofa and pulled out your phone. Tapping away on the touch-sensitive screen, the website popped up in its usual blue, red and white. An ad for ‘buy one get one free’ followed.

Swiping up from the ad, you ordered something short and quick, your selection very minimal and cheap as it contained only one pizza, a few wedges and a drink. The loading screen displayed a pizza spinning as it charged your card and the Cufflinks robot popped up, sending you the mandatory alerts every few minutes about the process of your order. Watching the small digitalized android chirp a few times, you smiled and switched your phone off.

Damn Cufflinks and their use of cute things for marketing.

Elevating your ankle onto a pillow, you punched away at the TV remote’s buttons and switched the TV on, flipping through the duller channels as you awaited the ringing of your doorbell. Usually, Cufflinks were pretty fast, so you were merely flicking through programs to amuse yourself the meanwhile. You were mildly interested in a cartoon about gem heroes for a few minutes, though the rerun had been appearing on the channel for quite a while, so you had seen it more times than you could count. Subsequently, you switched the channel over and the News blinked onto your screen, almost having flicked it over had it not been for the bold title on screen.

‘Cyberattack on Government records and Missile defence codes’

You were suddenly very interested as a pristine woman sat emotionless in the centre of the studio with her co-host to her left. She seemed unaffected by the headline as she continued her report.
You turned the sound up.

“Today a new danger emerged when the Government reported a cyber attack on their computerised security system,” the woman explained. She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear and glanced down at the papers in her hand. “Government officials believe the attack to have been formed by high-levelled villains, who managed to bypass their high-level and expertly coded cyber-walls, hacking into the private and confidential citizen profiles of Suit City and Hat Town. This left the Government Database to be available to the public for a good fifteen minutes before the security alarm detected a threat and shutdown the computerised system.”

“During this attack several documents and profile logs have been stolen from the Government facility, endangering certain citizens lives and the confidentiality of heroes in the area. The citizens whose profiles had been corrupted or stolen are to be interviewed at a later date and will be under the protection of a select few heroes until their security has been improved or the threats have been exterminated.”

You blinked in surprise at the venomous tone in the news reporter’s voice. Fiddling with the bandages on your hand you furrowed your eyebrows, pulling the bandages tighter and loosening them repeatedly. Your nerves were suddenly on edge.

“Several weapon launch codes have also been corrupted or deleted from the database and the Government has set up an anti-launch campaign to destroy any dangerous weapons that could be hacked or used against Suit City and Hat Town residents,” her co-host, a finely kept man with a waxed moustache, added. The symbol for the anti-launch campaign flashed onto the screen and a quick commercial followed.

You frowned.

If the event had just occurred how was there a campaign already running with an advert and logo?

It usually took weeks for a committee to agree just on the colour scheme of a logo. Having an advert, logo and funding website already set up seemed awfully odd. You tilted your head and shrugged. In hindsight, it wasn’t the first time an emergency had pulled people together and had caused argumentative or heat-fuelled politicians to pull their own weight to help society.

“We are told that the attackers have not corrupted or damaged any other files in the Government system and the citizens whose profiles have been stolen will be alerted soon, hopefully before any harm comes to them,” the blonde woman explained and shuffled her papers once again. It was becoming awfully repetitive.

“In other news, following the tragic death of QuickMetal, a new superhero has co-”

The doorbell rang.

You jumped and tore your eyes from the TV screen.

Your heart hammered wildly in your chest, the blood rushing to your ears and down to your toes in mere seconds. The doorbell chimed again and you groaned. Switching the channel over, you took a brief breather and lowered the volume as a cartoon credits played on screen. You had only been watching the News for around five minutes and you were already feeling depressed, a smidge anxious and a lot on edge.

No more bad news for you!

Heaving yourself away from the plush sofa cushions, you limped yourself to the front door and shuffled through your notes. Having picked your wallet from the countertop, you opened the door and accepted your pizza and drink from the young man, handing him a little extra for his troubles. He beamed in response and wished you well. Waving goodbye to the chipper man, you closed the door and manoeuvred yourself back onto the sofa. The mouth-watering scent of the pizza had you visibly salivating and wiping the corner of your mouth on your sleeve in order to prevent drool dripping down your chin.

Setting the box down, you dug into the saucy meal. The pizza was stringy and stretched to great lengths as you split it from its original base, tomato sauce dripping back into the cardboard box and leaving dark splotches on the cardboard.

What a healthy lunch.

Having switched your attention back to the cartoon channel on screen, you were pleasantly surprised to find a new episode of the Gem Heroes running. The crazy antics of said gems were good for the soul and had you laughing, singing along to the catchy songs of the lead character, and had you feeling great overall. You hoped everyone else was having as good a day as you were.

And hopefully, everything on the news will clear up soon with the hard work of the Government and politicians! You had your fingers crossed for all of the citizens whose profiles had been stolen.

Texting your work colleagues and few friends a quick message, each with personalised note ranging from ‘hope you had a good day!’ to ‘hope your presentation went well. Sending my love’, you beamed.

Today was a good day.

You deserved a break.

You could totally finish up the new prototype tomorrow.

Your phone chimed as a few colleagues and friends texted back. You chuckled as one or two sent messages expressing their envy over your paid break from work, whereas the remaining messages were merely ‘get well soon’ texts with emojis scattered randomly from the differing messages.

An unknown number flashed onto your homescreen.

‘You would not believe how easy it is to hack into the Government’s darkest and most secured secrets. They seem to give out information like it was the plague.’

You laughed half-heartedly in return and erased the text.

“Kids and their badly timed pranks.”
__

The night seemed to roll in faster than you had anticipated as the light outside your windows grew dim. The flickering of faint stars lit up the night sky and the artificial streetlights brightened up the pavements and darkened roads to aid wary travellers and teenagers out past their curfew.

Rolling over in your warm bed, your eyes yearned to close as your body ached from the wear of your joints and injuries. The warm sheets beckoned you to fall asleep, to allow your mind and body to slumber. Your eyes wavered and slipped close, only to spring open a few seconds later.

You had promised yourself you would finish this email.

Your boss had been wanting to hear about your recovery all week. She wanted to know all the finer details of your run in with a villain, as did many other employees that you worked with. Why she hadn’t messaged you at a more appropriate hour (or at an earlier date) you had gathered was due to her night-owlish tendencies and general forgetfulness.

How the peculiar woman kept her business running so long was probably due to the excellent staff at hand.

She sure knew how to pick them, you mused fondly.

The email was coming along nicely and as you had gathered your boss probably wanted the nitty-gritty details of the wounded man you had assisted as well as your information on Black Hat, it was nearly finished. Finally placing your email signature under your name, it sent and you let your arm loll, your phone slipping from your grip and onto the carpeted floor. The pillow dipped lowly as your nose buried into its crease and the scent of shampoo flooded your nostrils. As your eyes shut, the plush duvet welcomed you and your thoughts vanished in seconds.

It was too bright.

Your eyelids fluttered open as you rolled over and welcomed the dim lighting with a vampiresque hiss. The light seemed to filter through a pair of low-hanging drapes that were coloured a dark maroon and were entailed with black thread that was sewn to create intricate patterns as the fabric cascaded towards the polished wooden panes underfoot.

The curtains were far to expensive-looking and detailed for any of the plain fabric drapes in your house.

Your eyes widened.

Bolting up straight, your head spun as black blurred your vision and tore at the edges of your eyesight. The dizziness vanished quickly and was replaced with confusion as you stared at the clothing accentuating your body and profession. The fitted lab coat and red gloves were an obvious change from your galaxy-printed pyjamas, as were the black jeans and the thick shirt covering your torso.

Running your fingers through the roots of your hair, your eyes skimmed the wallpapered parapets and their embellishments. The thick-framed paintings had your blood running cold as hybrid after human after monster littered the walls with sharp eyes and dangerous smiles, their teeth all a set of light green canines that screamed ‘run’.

You couldn’t help but ponder how they all seemed so comfortable with canines jutting into their gums.

Were they like sharks?

Did they have multiple rows of teeth?

Heaving yourself off the ground, your fingers flexed and you were amazed to find your leg no longer causing you pain. The ankle was fine as you twisted and let it turn in different directions. Your fingers also seemed less confined and when pulling your gloves off, you were surprised to find that there no bandages littering your fine skin. However, your palm and fingertips were a little coarser than you last remembered.

Maybe you should start using moisturiser?

You had seen a few scented hand moisturisers on sale in Suits.

Walking further down the hall, your fingers trailed along the walls as a sense of comfort. It appeared the walls were actually covered in a wallpaper that had added texture, the spade-shaped details made with thicker paper and fabric that had been added to the mix. The red was a nice touch, especially with the waxed wood that stood out very darkly in contrast.

Turning a sharp corner, your eyes rose from the wooden corridor and landed on a pair of heavyset doors made from dark mahogany. They seemed heavy and very robust, the two knobs a similar shade as the wood underfoot.

You approved of the interior design.

Slipping your fingers around the doorknob, you twisted it experimentally and pushed the heavy mahogany forward, almost expecting it to open.

It didn’t.

With a disappointed huff, you stepped back and frowned in thought. You were sure that there was something interesting behind the two doors. With a sigh, you let out a satisfied hum. You weren’t going to waste your time on a set of random doors, there was too much to explore, and whatever was behind the doors could be just as equally exciting as an empty office with a few documents inside.

A warm sensation curled over the nape of your neck.

A claw trailed down your spine.

You froze.

All common sense told you to run but in a sick sense of good judgment gone wrong, you slowly twirled around without a moment to consider your actions. The molten eyes poured into your very soul as a lone monocle gleamed wickedly in the low-lighting, your irises shrinking in shock and horror. The green smile had your blood freezing in your veins as it twisted into a taunting sneer and its owner towered over you, their presence seeming to keep you trapped in a fear-induced state.

Black Hat.

“And why might you be here?” His voice drawled, the scraping texture causing the hairs on your arm to rise. He seemed to relish in your discomfort.

You laughed uncertainly.

“No idea. I’m honestly just as confused as you are,” a soft grin flooded your features and the demon-entity seemed to blink in surprise. Your eyes searched his face for any sign of aggression and found comfort when he sighed, clearly resigned and displeased, before a hand waved dismissively and he turned.

“Follow me.”

With furrowed eyebrows, you had no choice but to obey and follow the tall monster closely. Black Hat refused to turn around and you found that he did not check once to see if you were still present, and he certainly didn’t show any sign of concern when you stumbled after trying to keep up with his fast pace.

“Would it,” you tripped over a crease in a random rug on the floor and balanced yourself once again, finding solace with a nearby wall. “-Kill you to,” you heaved out a sigh when you found your breathing a little faster than usual, “-walk a little slower?”

Black Hat seemed to glance over his shoulder and smirk at your flustered state.

He stopped altogether.

“You need only to ask, little cretin,” he taunted and waited for you to catch up. The look of pleasure when you finally stopped in front of Black Hat had your stomach churning uncomfortably, his smile almost nauseating and causing you to cringe a little on the inside.

A realisation occurred.

“Wait- Did you just call me a cretin?”

He smirked and bowed mockingly, a dangerous gleam in his eye as he met your shocked pupils. Rising slightly, his face met yours on the same level and flashed a dangerous leer,

“Only you, Doctor.”

You shot up from the warm comforter and pillows in a disarray of confusion, sleep-deprivation and discomfort. Drool crusted along your cheek and your hair was a mess in itself. The blankets around your body drooped and folded themselves over your lap.

Blinking at the darkness, you snorted in disbelief.

“What the fuck?”

What a weird dream.

You remembered few details, but the taunting smile on Black Hat’s features remained present in your mind. The demon-entity was obviously the key factor of the dream and had left an impression on your dream-self, most likely due to the last sentence and his minor insult.

Cretin- fuck you too, Black Hat.

Peering blurrily at the digitalised clock on your bedside table, you squinted at the green numbers and read the blinking 3:27 with a long-drawn sigh. There was a weirdly satisfying sense of relief at the idea of more sleep, especially with how your current projects and healing muscles were taking up plenty of your energy.

Sinking back into the warm mattress, you allowed your eyes to close and told yourself that you would not write about villains before you went to bed.

Unless you wanted to be insulted in your own sleep.
__

Low buzzing filled the empty room.

Several photos of different citizens of similar features, hair colour and eye colour filtered across the computer screen. The red light flickered in and out as the profiles of smiling citizens darted across the screen.

Each person seemed to be of the same species with a few mutant varieties thrown into the mix every now and then. It wasn’t until one profile slid onto the screen, their features analysed and information processed that the flurry of tapping keys silenced as a large green light filled the dark room. The light bounced off every available reflecting surface, even off the man that sat in front of the large computer screen. He chuckled at the smiling face covering the screen, his eyes following the curves and contorts of the civilian’s features.

They sure looked different from when they were coated in blood.

“Boss, we found a match.”

A large bulbous mass moved from behind the door, their voice distorted and face almost completely hidden due to the shadows that plagued the room and the one green light. Their voice echoed, creating a ghoulish effect as they huffed out a proud laugh.

“Excellent work, Professor! What would I do without you?”

The man at the computer grinned and spun around in his chair, an impish smile sewn over his skin, “Well, you sure would have a lower ranking in the community.” He relaxed and allowed his legs to settle out in a wide, comfortable position with a hand patting his thigh playfully. “But who knows? With the new edition of our crew, you may become top of the business.”

The mass clicked their tongue in approval.

“Well-thought, Professor.”

A comfortable silence fell over the room as both creatures stared at the blinking light and the grinning face on the screen. The two studied their subject’s face and a hollow chuckle erupted from the dark mass, their eyes skimming over the human’s expression and joyous smile.

An ill-riddled leer lightened up their features, highlighting the blood splattered over their lips.

“When do you believe we should pick them up?”

Chapter Text

It was an undeniable truth that eldritchs did not require sleep. The common need was not something that was part or required for their bodies to function at a steady rate. To think that an average human spent around 35% of their useless life asleep made Black Hat mildly uncomfortable and had him believing that the average human was a mere lazy lout.

But despite the lack of need to sleep, it wasn’t uncommon for Black Hat to rest or nap every few days to help improve his performance and to reset his body clock. During these brief rests, the Manor and his minions knew better than to cause a ruckus or interrupt him.

Black Hat was not a morning person.

At all.

So, when his scientist barged in with his charge and red-headed companion following closely in tow on one of his rare naps, Black Hat was less than pleased.

“Doctor Flug, what is the meaning of this?” The eldritch hissed from his position in the large chair behind his heavy oak desk.

The scientist in front of him quivered with overridden anxiety, 5.0.5 having to saddle up to him and lean against his side comfortingly, whereas Demencia attempted to pull one of the axes decorating Black Hat’s office off the wall. The psychotically-deranged teenager cackled and almost pulled the weapon from its hinges, had it not been for the manifestation of shadow tendrils that tugged her down from the opposing wall. She squealed excitedly and attempted to hug the black appendage, only to get a scolding hit to the back of her head.

“W-Well, sir,” Flug stammered timidly and approached Black Hat’s desk with his palm open. The previous ‘forcefield’ sat comfortably in the base of his palm and the demon-entity rose a precise eyebrow as the scientist seemed to waver off onto a completely different tangent that held no importance to the likes of Black Hat.

“English, Flug.”

The Doctor coughed and nodded rapidly.

“Sir, you would not believe the discovery and utter genius behind this- this invention!” Flug announced ecstatically and his stammer vanished into utter confidence.

“The molecular structure of this ‘forcefield’ is at such a capacity that it should be impossible, but it is not! It has the ability to produce a forcefield with unaltering gamma and magnetic rays, yes, but due to its high density it can absorb the kinetic energy directed at the victim or shield and reflect it back at such a rate that its user won’t be thrown back because of Newton's third law! For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction, but with this invention, there is an opposite reaction but it is somehow delayed and thrown back at a slower rate!”

Flug panted after his long-winded explanation and took a deep breath.

“Sir, you have no idea the implications of this ingenious invention! It’s almost ten-years ahead of time. We have forcefields that scientists are currently creating, but they haven’t perfected their performance and it will be years before they think to even alter the molecular structure! This was made by a genius. A mad genius!”

Demencia grinned and grabbed the forcefield from Doctor Flug’s hand, her smile mischievous as she spun it on her index finger and slid the two parts away from each other. Black Hat was almost surprised at Doctor Flug’s compliance with the ex-experiment’s actions and he watched as the metal weaved together and slotted back into place, the invention forming a small X-shape in her palm. Black Hat almost withdrew when a cyan blue pulse emerged from its centre and encased Demencia, Doctor Flug and himself in a circular dome-shape. The energy was packed neatly and held its shape solidly, never wavering or breaking at any weak points of the dome.

“See sir! Now, if 5.0.5 were to throw a chair at the dome,” Flug sent the blue bear an eager thumbs up and although reluctant, the blue bear tossed one of the consultation chairs at the blue orb. The chair bounced off at a slower rate and landed on its side, a few metres away from 5.0.5. Quickly glancing at Demencia, Black Hat was mildly disappointed that she hadn't seemed affected whatsoever with the blow to the forcefield.

“The forcefield completely deflects it! And if I were to grab the forcefield,” Flug took the contraption from Demencia’s hand and began walking to a further section of Black Hat’s office. The forcefield followed him and as it finally passed through Demencia, the blue dome contracted and formed a smaller dome around Doctor Flug.

“It gets smaller when there are fewer people in the four-metre limit!” He announced excitedly and twisted one of the pieces of metal, allowing it to turn and slot back into its flat compacted shape. The blue forcefield vanished immediately as the casing closed and its white plastic began glowing a light blue from inside the machinery.

Demencia seemed unaffected by Flug’s enthusiasm and nudged Black Hat’s arm with a wink, “Pretty cool, huh? Even the nerd’s excited about it.”

Sending her a warning glare, Black Hat stood and rounded his deck, placing his hand out for Flug to release the contraption onto his person.

He did so reluctantly.

“5.0.5, I have demand,” Black Hat announced as he pocketed the forcefield and turned towards the blue bear. The failed experiment looked at him expectantly and the eldritch grinned murderously, “Set up a new bedroom,” he trailed off and leered eagerly, “the room next to Flug’s more specifically! We need a room prepared for our new companion.”

Demencia let out an excited squeal.

“Doctor Flug,” Black Hat turned towards the shocked scientist. “I do hope that you need a lab assistant because I am sure that we have found you one,” Black Hat taunted and watched as the shaky scientist retracted from shock.

“I also have a demand for you,” he continued. “You are to hack into the Suit City’s Government system and to access the citizen profiles and find anyone who fits the description I will give you briefly. They must also have experience in the field of engineering and I will check each candidate with you,” Black Hat stated firmly.

“Demencia,” he turned to the bouncing woman. “You will be given this candidate’s address at the appropriate time and made to retrieve them, as well as any necessary items for their personage,” Black Hat explained and folded both his hands behind his back.

“Is that understood?”

__

Wind tussled your hair and despite your fingers realigning the strands every few minutes, the mess of locks refused to behave against the wind’s demands. In addition, as the wind grew worse your hair chose to do the same. So, there you were on the corner of Shoe Boulevard as you fought against the harsh autumn wind and the strands smacked against your face every so often.

Maybe you should just end your suffering and wear a hat?

Striding down the pavement with a walking stick in hand, because it was better to have something to support yourself than just struggling all day, you spied the café you were eagerly searching for out of the corner of your eye.

The café was a slight twist of an internet café and a Victorian-styled tearoom. Its walls were aligned with heavy tombs to paperback books from the beginning of the nineteenth century and until the present day, however, in the centre of the café were a large assortment of secured laptops and built-in computers that were decently modern. The retro-designed computers just weren’t up to the café owner’s standards.

Smiling softly, you pushed the glass door open and were greeted with an overflow of herbs and strongly brewed coffee mixed-in with harsh traces of sugar and books.

The interior hadn’t changed from its book-encased walls and Victorian-styled furniture over the past week, which you had expected. Your eyes roamed over the blue furniture decorated with white accents with a sense of familiarity and they finally landed on the chalkboard till, an acquainted set of eyes meeting yours at an unsurprisingly rapid rate.

“Dude, where have you been?” The young woman questioned with burning cobalt irises, her smile crooked and the dimples deepening against her pale skin. The few freckles on her cheeks seemed lighter than usual, as were the bags usually decorated the skin under her eyes.

“Evie, long time no see,” you greeted the dorky cashier. She was more of an acquaintance than a friend but you were more than happy to see her after a week of stress and injury. And she made the most killer Frappes in the business.

“How’s work?”

She waved a hand in a dismissive manner.

“Same old, same old. A few new customers, a few old regulars,” she gestured with a tilt of her right hand. “The boss is pretty happy with business but even he asked where you’d been! But my life isn’t that interesting,” Evie laughed and her eyes zoned on the walking stick at your side, “And I do believe you have a much more intriguing tale to tell.” To emphasise her interest, she propped her arms on the counter and her eyes flicked between you and your injuries. A teasing wink was directed at you as an unsubtle way of saying ‘spill the beans’.

You relished in her joyful attitude and quirky habits.

It was rare to find someone so open with themselves.

“Well, aren’t you eager?” You teased and she shrugged, a dorky grin in place of her professional ‘smile’. Your face contorted into a similar expression, “Maybe I’ll tell you later, but I’m exhausted and in need of-”

“The usual,” Evie confirmed and moved to start on your drink. “Go sit down and read, you nerd,” she huffed with a light chuckle and waved her hand in the direction of your usual seat.

You nodded in thanks.

The cushioned sofa greeted you with a lenient groan and its soft surface. The furled fabric was amazing to the touch and despite the tea stains adorning the white pillows, you never felt more relaxed in a public space. The fabric seemed to emit scents of lavender, coffee beans and caramel. And you had often asked if the café stuffed the pillows with lavender buds and crushed beans, but had only received a cheeky wink from Evie in response.

The clinking of cups drew your attention from the detailed stitching and you thanked Evie in return for your drink, who nodded and slipped the bill onto a nearby coaster. She resumed her work a moment later and went to note down an elderly couple’s order on the other side of the café.

You sipped the brew and smiled.

A book would be a good way to past the time or maybe you should text your parents, or possibly catch up on some of the newer episodes of Gem Heroes-

“Excuse me, are you alright?”

You were ripped from that train of thought by a short teenager in a striped shirt and a pair of black dungarees. He was shifting nervously by your table and seemed pretty shy as he wrung his wrists in perfect circles. You could see a red line forming from how hard he was pressing down on the skin.

“Yeah, yeah! I’m good, thanks for asking,” you answered honestly. “Why do you ask?”

The boy turned a flustered light pink and glanced over to his friends, a blonde girl and a tall brunet boy, who were both watching eagerly. He took a sharp intake of breath and turned around, his brown eyes gleaming eagerly, “My friends wanted me to ask if you were the person who fought Black Hat last week?”

What.

WHAT.

You gasped sharply and spluttered around the liquid in your cup. Coughing into your arm, your eyes watered and the teen seemed mortified as he handed you a napkin. You nodded in thanks and wiped the corners of your mouth, allowing you reflexes to calm and taking a quick breather.

“I’m sorry but did you say, ‘fought Black Hat’? As in the eldritch who lives in Hatville, Black Hat?” You asked in an uncertain rush and shoved the crumpled napkin into your left hand.

“I’m sorry if you aren’t, I didn’t mean to interrupt you,” the teenager rambled and moved to walk away. “It’s just- You look like the person from the clips on HeroTube and on the News website- And even your appearance matches the description! Plus, you look like you went through a fight of some sorts- not that I’m insinuating that you look bad-!”

Someone please silence this flustered child.

His friends seemed to be sitting in a cloud of utter despair as the boy floundered in front of you.

“Hey,” you attempted to silence the teenager. “You’re not wrong- I did get into a sort of fight with Black Hat? If you could call it that. It was more like a one-sided argument.”

He shut up immediately.

“You did?!” You drew back and chuckled at his beaming features. “So, you are the person who fought him! I was right. Oh my god, what happened? What did you do?” He sat down on the chair opposite and leant forward, “Are you a hero? Am I supposed to keep your identity a secret? Oh gosh- I’m so sorry I won’t say a word!” He shoved a hand over his mouth and glanced around in an almost comical fashion.

“Sorry to disappoint, but I’m not a hero.”

He seemed to deflate immediately and you could see the disappointment radiating from the teen in black waves.

“I did meet Black Hat though!” You blustered out in an odd attempt to raise his spirits. “We didn’t fight because I was carrying an injured man, and I doubt I would have won anyway, but if you have any questions I’ll happily answer them!”

You watched as the boy’s eyes turned into wide saucers.

“Really?”

Nod.

“What was he like? Was he as dangerous as people say?! I saw the clips of him and some others from different encounters, but it’s apparently really rare that he does dirty work himself!” The teenager rambled and you tried your best to keep up with his excitement. “And to survive an encounter too! You must be a mutant of some sorts or just really really lucky.”

“I think ‘really really lucky’ is possibly the best description of the whole scenario,” you snorted impishly. “He was at the least, a demonic creature ready to kill me, but I think he got confused over whether I was QuickSilver or not due to the smoke. Overall, I think I threw him off by just being myself?” Your voice rose in pitch. “I’m just as surprised I wasn’t killed on the spot. Talk about good luck,” you laughed and your hands shook slightly as you took another sip of your drink. The thought hadn’t really occurred to you until today.

“Woah,” the boy stared at you in awe. “You survived because you confused him?”

Nod.

“That’s amazing! Would it be okay if I- uh- got your autograph?” You stared at him, wide-eyed. “For me and my friends, y’know. It’s not every day we get to meet someone cool enough to beat a villain. You’re technically a hero but your superpower is confusion!” He laughed and reached for another napkin, searching for a spare pen in his back pockets.

“Sure, if you really want one,” you answered in mild surprise, “But I’m really not that cool- I’m just- I just did what any person would have, I think.” You smiled sheepishly and accepted the biro, scribbling down your signature and a smiley face.

“I do have a question for you, though.”

The teenager seemed shocked at your request and nodded eagerly.

“First of all, what’s your name? And secondly, you said there are clips and my description on-?” You trailed off.

“Oh. Oh yeah! I’m Dill. And there are loads of videos on HeroTube, most from people filming the attack, and you’re in quite a lot. It’s really hard to see because it was so smoky, however! And the titles are all pretty stupid like, ‘Citizen fights notorious Black Hat and wins!’ and ‘Non-hero tries to chat up villain in the middle of a fight’. Which is kind of ridiculous? Black Hat is really creepy and I don’t think anyone would want to kiss him with those gross teeth,” he poked his tongue out in disgust. “And on the Suit City news website there are one or two videos, which are a much better quality, and they catch some of your conversation with Black Hat! I think in one you throw him something, but I can’t remember it very well.”

You could feel all blood rushing down to your feet.

“And there are loads of comments! Most are super positive and saying how brave you are or how people saw you saving the guy you were carrying. Some are… Not so positive, but I think they’re just jealous that they didn’t get to outwit Black Hat!” Dill chuckled and ran a hand through his hair. “The description thing isn’t really that important,” he continued. “It’s more like a news writer didn’t know your identity so they wrote down a few of your attributes and slotted in a few photos of you to their article. That’s it.”

You sighed in relief, a smile brightening your features immensely.

Good. There were no wanted posters going around the internet just because you gave a villain a ‘suspicious invention’.

“So yeah, that’s about it,” Dill finished and pocketed the signed napkin with a generous smile. “Thanks for your autograph and I hope your wounds heal up soon! Also, cool walking stick. I like the rustic aesthetic,” he finished and waved. You waved back and watched as he went and joined his friends, immediately spilling the details as soon as he sat back down. The two teenagers listened eagerly and glanced back at you every few moments, which you greeted with a wide smile.

Finishing the drink at hand, you placed the set amount of money on the table and stood up. Waving Evie a quick goodbye, you left the café and stepped back out into the late afternoon air.

A chill ran down your spine.

Felt like someone just walked over your grave.
__

Flug cursed quietly as another citizen profile swiped across his computer.

It was the fifty-second profile he had analysed and much to his luck, he still hadn’t found their mysterious inventor. At this rate, Flug was close to giving up because truly, it shouldn’t be this difficult to find someone that fit his boss’ description. Black Hat just had to give the most vague and redundant description of their mysterious character.

Glowering at the smiling citizen on the screen, Flug clicked on the profile and as the computer zoomed in a young man around twenty-four-years-old showed up on screen. His expression was that of an impish grin which could only be described as cocky and mischievous. His hair was gelled back and a decent length whilst he also adorned perfect white teeth.

His academic history held no engineering or motor-skills. Instead, he was apparently studying law in the downtown Blouse District.

How original.

Rolling his eyes, Flug clicked off and onto the next profile.

A mutant with blue skin and alchemic tattoos? Not likely.

He groaned in frustration.

This was ridiculous! There was little to no chance that he’d find Black Hat’s supposed new employee, as the likelihood that Flug had downloaded the right profiles from the Government Database were at a percentage of 87.666% because of Black Hat’s helpful description. Not to mention the chance of finding a candidate that fit his description and also had a career in engineering was a good 47.998%. And what if their candidate didn’t even live in the surrounding areas! They could be a tourist for all they knew.

So overall, it wasn’t a great possibility.

5.0.5 seemed to notice Flug’s frustration and waddled his way over, encasing the back of the scientist’s chair with his fluffy chest and trapping Flug with his colourful arms. The scientist slumped against his companion and clicked onto the next candidate, scanning over their career, history and features once again.

So tedious.

5.0.5 made a low grumble and laid his head on Flug’s shoulder, being careful to not disrupt his paper bag, and nudged his nose into the scientist’s collarbone. His eyes tried to follow the screen and its pixels, but the jumbled particles only caused the bear a headache and he chose to sniff at the suspicious object in Flug’s left breast pocket.

“5.0.5 quit it,” Flug scolded and batted the experiment on his nose lightly. 5.0.5 huffed indignantly and patted his chest before scooping Flug up from under his arms, landing on the floor with a soft ‘thwump!’ and the skinny doctor in his arms. He didn’t seem impressed.

“5.0.5 I can’t play right now, I have to work. Okay?” Flug explained with a thick accent of frustration. 5.0.5 only glowered back at the scientist with a disapproving look and patted Flug’s lab pocket, nudging the object as a sign to pick it up.

His phone.

Flug pulled off a glove and unlocked the phone with furrowed brows. He glanced back up at 5.0.5 as the bear made himself comfortable and Flug smiled at the adorable sight. 5.0.5 caught his stare and grinned, his flower seeming to perk up eagerly at the attention. Flug scratched his chin in return.

Pouring his attention back into his phone, Flug felt his chest swell with gleeful pride as the News App popped up and series after series of articles about Black Hat, his inventions and last Friday’s incident scrolled down the screen. The majority only wrote about Black Hat’s involvement in QuickSilver’s death but a few contained details on Flug’s weapons and their estimates, rough descriptions and possible dismantles.

As if Black Hat would ever let a hero touch any of their weapons.

The doctor chuckled and flicked down the articles, hoping to find something interesting to read as 5.0.5 forced him to have an obligated break. The bear was his saving grace and the cause of most of his (Demencia-less) problems.

He paused.

There was an article.

An article depicting last Friday’s fight, but with an unfamiliar face.

A face that seemed to fit Black Hat’s faulty description.

5.0.5 jumped as Flug sprang from their resting place and hit a few stray pens off his desk, the excited scientist seeming to have discovered the solution to his problem as his fingers skimmed his keyboard at a reckless rate. The computer screen switched from profile to profile at a debauched frequency and 5.0.5 could only watch as the scientist paused, his chest heaving from unriddled relief, a profile standing clear against the black gradient of the computer background.

A human citizen gazed back curiously with a beaming grin, their eyes peppered with unimaginable mirth and a laugh seemed to be bubbling at the lips. Their features weren’t that of unimaginable beauty or want, but they were attractive and young.

Flug checked their age.
28.

Their occupation.
An art therapist.

Their title.
Doctor.

Their degree.
Engineering psychology and art.

Bingo.

Chapter Text

Thunder rumbled faintly in the distance as the kettle whistled and its automatic switch clicked softly, a clear sign that the water had reached boiling point and was ready for you to drink. Steam unfurled over its opening and twisted slowly above the kettle spout.

Padding over to the kettle in a pair of comfortable slippers, your mouth stretched open wide, showcasing the tips of your canines and tongue. You poured the hot water into a ceramic cup and watched the teabag shift from the current, the water altering into a darker colour as the herbs diffused into the lower concentration. Pressing a hand over your mouth you silenced the yawn and moved to wipe the sand from your eyes, letting your back click and relax to fit your sleepy mood.

Dressed in a warm pair of pyjama bottoms, you mumbled quietly and stirred the tea slowly. The heat radiating from the hot liquid made you even sleepier and the calming scent had your eyes drooping as you stood in the kitchen, a pair of fitted space pyjamas decking your legs with bright stars trailing down to your ankles. To match the interstellar-themed pyjamas bottoms, you adorned a thick blue jumper with a Nasa patch sewn onto its front to tie the ensemble together. There was even a built-in pocket that was made from black materials, which stood out greatly against the blue fabric, and contained your phone. There was a matching star sewn onto its surface as well.

Drowsily walking over to the toaster, you picked up the bagel that you had popped in previously and tossed it from hand to hand. Your bandages helped absorb some of the heat as you placed it on a plastic plate and spread your favourite topping over its surface, humming pleasantly as the spread began to melt from the added heat. Licking the smooth surface over the knife, you proceeded to toss it into the sink and dispensed some hot water over the metal utensil.

Once satisfied, you grabbed both your mug and the plate from the countertop. Limping your way into the living room with a childish whine, you pressed yourself into the sofa and wedged yourself into the warm fabric. There was a light shape from several days before and you happily slotted yourself into the warm crevice, placing your mug on a nearby table and digging into the bagel with a juvenile sound of joy. The warm breakfast tore easily and had you smiling as its heat aided your body to adjust its temperature in fitting the early morning chill.

Fumbling for the TV remote, you clasped a hand around the plastic and pressed down on the rubber buttons. The remote emitted an infra-red ray and your TV switched on, the audio quickly following as a cartoon channel played on screen. It seemed that they were playing a remake of an old show that starred a samurai warrior and his attempts to destroy an evil deity.

Heh.

Cool.

Watching the remaining ten minutes of the show, you noted to yourself that you should most definitely watch the previous episodes at some point. The show was very interesting and rather humorous with an intriguing art style. It had thick lines and angular forms- very edgy.

The show ended and an advert flickered across the screen.

You groaned.

You could care less about adverts. All you wanted to do right now was watch TV and sleep after the whole famous incident yesterday. The entire situation had you walking back home agitated and nervous, then proceeding to nurse a warm mug of hot chocolate and immediately taking to your computer. Researching into the attack you had found yourself rather uncomfortable with the number of articles that you appeared or were featured in. The amount of rumours circling QuickMetals’s death, Black Hat and the “mysterious citizen”, which you had been dubbed as was insane.
And really?

The “Mysterious Citizen”.

How inventive.

Some people had even taken photos or digitally enhanced you in videos, showing your identity and every feature clearly.

Some people were writing articles and creating conspiracy theories about the whole incident.

Some people were actively seeking you out.

The News website hadn’t been any more help as it was riddled with article after article about the attack and its death toll. There were articles about QuickSilver’s death, Black Hat himself, the inventions behind the attack and Black Hat’s supposed minions that aided the fight.

And then there was you.

Again.

You were honestly shocked about how viral everything had gone in such a small timeframe. It was true that Black Hat didn’t leave his Manor for much besides business meetings and small inconveniences that could be dealt with shortly (from what you had learnt after researching him for a few minutes), so that was probably the reason behind why everything had gone from zero to one-hundred in a matter of two weeks. The grey-skinned eldritch was big news and an even bigger threat.

But you found that no reason for you to be dragged into it.

You had helped one guy.

And you had bumped into Black Hat once.

True, he hadn’t killed you on the spot like how he did with most, but it was merely luck. There was no hidden truce, no hidden history and you sure as hell were not his “secret lover” (where the internet had formed that idea was down to pure mystery). Nor were you an ally or an accomplice in the whole affair. You were not a “new minion” or an undercover villain that Black Hat was familiar with.

You were a civilian.

A naïve human who ran towards the danger instead of away.

The fact you had survived with a few injuries was a blessing.

The internet was creating crazy hoaxes, inane conspiracies and even weirder commentaries about the whole event. And you were in the centre of it all! Your only hope about the whole situation was that it would most likely die down in a few weeks. For now, you would just have to deal with the rare stranger who’d ask if you were the “Mysterious Citizen” that had dealt with Black Hat.

Stirring from your thoughts, the channel had started a new episode of a kid’s cartoon that soon grew repetitive. You switched the channel over and reached for your mug, finding the tea cold. Shrugging no-less, you chugged the whole thing down as the news theme began in the background.

You had become a little more interested with the going-ons in your local area after your run-in with the top hat-obsessed grim reaper.

The blonde woman was on screen again and seemed to be vibrating positivity despite her emotionless expression. Her segment was about the recently discovered cure for over-mutated genes in mutants that left them paralyzed in certain parts of the body. She turned extremely bubbly halfway through the segment as she explained the brief implications of the new medicine, giving examples of how the medicine was to be grown and expanded in the medical industry until it could alter to fit into genetic coding, editing and possibly replacing cancerous genes or cells.

You felt your hopes rising with her smile.

The news often left you at a crossroad. Half the time it was brilliant, on the verge of fantastic information and miracles, whereas other times it was depressing and could bring a fully-grown hero to cry.

You tried not to dwell on it.

“Moving on, another hero has been killed in their prime!” Exclaimed the moustached man, his wrinkles deepening as he persevered with the report.

“Ghost Hex was last seen Saturday evening in Uptown Hatville with their partner, the White Guardian. Early Sunday morning, Ghost Hex was found mauled almost beyond recognition in downtown Hatville without the White Guardian. They appear to have been injected with a biochemical poison and their throat has been- what appears as- torn from fangs or sharp nails.”

The man seemed awfully uncomfortable.

“The killer is said to still be at large and remains anonymous. The only piece of evidence that fellow heroes and the police have collected is a ripped piece of material that seems to be part of a striped stocking. However, this cannot be confirmed. The White Guardian has yet to comment on their involvement with the murd-!”

RING-RING-RING.

You jolted as the doorbell rang.

Again.

This was beginning to form a weird pattern.

The news would play. You would get entranced with the story being told. The doorbell would then ring. You would jump.

Odd.

Rising from the sofa, you snickered at the deepened crevice of your body against the lenient cushions. The shape faintly replicated your hips and thighs, making the perfect shape for you to slip into later and perhaps not move for the rest of the day. After all, it was only Monday and you had the remainder of this week off for medical reasons. And with added pay!

Closing the living room door behind you, your front door shook due to the ferocious knocking coming from outside. The latch seemed to shake with the added force and it almost made you retreat back into the living room to hide behind the previously mentioned furniture.

You peeked out the window and furrowed your eyebrows at the newcomer.

A young woman with vibrant red hair seemed to be hammering on your door with the enthusiasm of a bulldozer. Her hair was dyed lime green from the tips upwards and contrasted greatly with her natural hair colour and clothing. The plain white vest with added pink tufts were much softer compared to her facial features, which were sharp and seemed almost crazy with how her eyes darted from left to right at an unsteady rate. And the pastel ripped jeans had chains hanging from the belt loops, happening to match the grunge boots that she adorned on her feet.

Her style was a pure mess of emo, cybergoth and pastel princess.

And was she wearing the postal uniform hat?

Your lock clicked with the slow turn of the door handle and you opened the entrance wide enough for the stranger to have a clear view of your face and friendly smile. The woman’s beam seemed to widen as her eyes met yours, her gaze seeming to linger on your bandaged fingers and ankle support. She swung an arm out and waited for you to return the handshake.

“Hello Mx. ______, I’m Demencia! The new post-lady,” she winked and gripped your hand firmly, shaking it vigorously. Your muscles throbbed from the forceful movements and as she let go, you instinctively pulled your arm back and cradled the crushed hand.

Boy, she did not know her own strength.

“Lovely to meet you, Demencia,” you greeted the eccentric woman and introduced yourself in return. Demencia’s heterochronic eyes gleamed maliciously but her expression remained the same lazy grin, a small package shoved under her arm. She seemed rather rushed after the formal introductions and tossed the brown parcel into your arms, cackling wildly and bolting off your property.

She seemed fun.

Closing the door, you spun the box over in your hands, squinting at the return address on the front. You didn’t remember ordering anything as of recently, so a mysterious package with all the hype in the media was an immediate hazard. And as you scanned the address, your pupils shrunk in a mixture of horror and fascination.

Black Hat Inc.
Hat Island, Hat Ave.
Manor #333
Hatsville

So, you had just received a mysterious parcel from Black Hat Incorporation which belonged to Black Hat, the villain you had given a forcefield too and talked to without immediate death. The villain had researched into you obviously and had found your address, reaching out with a parcel of immense pain or possible gratitude. Hopefully? Maybe? … Yeah, sounds unlikely.

Oh, you had most definitely dug yourself a grave here.

The package was decently light and when you shook it, which was probably not one of your smartest ideas, there was a dull thunking noise from inside its carboard walls. Considering you weren’t immediately nihilated in your hallway, you carried the parcel into the kitchen and collected a pair of scissors, cutting into the brown tape holding the edges together. The tape tore easily and as you parted the box lips, you furrowed your eyebrows at the white Styrofoam decking out the insides.

Biting your lip, you dug a hand into the copious amounts of polystyrene, your skin skimming along a plastic edge and a rolled piece of card. Seizing the object, you pulled it from inside the Styrofoam pills and marvelled at the invention sitting in the palm of your hand.

A vaporisation pistol.

Black Hat, the most notorious and nefarious villain on the whole planet (and possibly in the whole solar system) had gifted you with a gun that eliminated particles and cells as a ‘thank you’ for your gift of ‘thanks-for-not-killing-me’ in the shape of a forcefield.

Burrowing your hand back into the packaging, your fingers hooked around the edge of the card roll. You tugged it from its confines, showcasing a roll of stereotypical blue card with white sketches and plans decorating its graphed paper. Unrolling the reel, your eyes skimmed the equations and paragraphs, gapping at the plans in your hands.

The detailed entrails and discoveries behind the gun in your hand.

You were in pure awe.

A villain had gifted you with one of their products and they had also given you the plans behind said invention.

You stared at the scribbled signature at the base of the page, the rough penmanship reading ‘Property of Dr.Flug’. An excited smile drawled over your features, an even more eager squeak slipping from your lips. As you marvelled at the blueprints, too enraptured with the plans and scientific discoveries, you hadn’t noticed a small hat-shaped camera slip out from the vast quantity of Styrofoam with thin metal entrails.

The shutter clicked silently and its light blinked from red to green.

HaT-CaM 1: LIVE.

__

The manor was alive with a tense atmosphere.

Demencia had been gone for a good two hours, her disguise subtle yet effective as she posed as a postwoman and delivered Black Hat’s package to his future ‘employee’. The pain of the nylon disguise was that despite its easy-stretch and padded material, Demencia did not seem to appreciate the effort 5.0.5 took in avoiding pricking her as it had sewn the slippery fabric with warm fur to create the pastel-centred outfit. The bear had made very quiet, apologetic noises every time the needles pierced her skin and moved them away as quick as its large paws could manage.

Something that Black Hat found utterly tedious.

If the bumbling animal was to prick the psychotic teenager multiple times, it was best to cause her one or two wounds than to fumble over-and-over again as it sewed the disguise together.

Curse the bear and its overdosed empathetic brain cells.

The eldritch grumbled under his breath, calculating the profit of their recent biochemically engineered poison from Demencia’s salvia glands. The lizard woman had been experimented on for years, her immune system almost undefeatable and her reflexes those of a monk. Her lizard-abilities hadn’t manifested until her earlier years at Black Hat Manor, where Doctor Flug had drawn out blueprints and had spliced her genes with that of a common gecko. The choice of animal was more down to circumstance than diverse options. And the spliced DNA had caused more than one mutation in her bloodstream.

Black Hat scowled and corrected an error on the page.

Let’s just say Demencia hadn’t entered the manor six-years-ago in a good condition.

A loud crash drew the eldritch from his concentration, his eyes skimming over the couple dozen equations on his page, most done whilst in thought. The numbers seemed right and he rose from the large desk, a hand skimming over the leather-padded surface with a certain smugness radiating from his large form.

“DEMENCIA,” Black Hat bellowed from behind his office doors, slamming the pair with a certain force that caused the hinges to screech in protest. He closed the set with the same vigour and glided down the long corridor, meeting the embellished staircase with a flare of his jacket and his dress shoes scuffing the carpeted surface.

An eager face popped from around the kitchen door. Demencia’s eyes widened with unbridled fascination and she launched herself from the door frame, scuttling across the floor on all fours. The animalistic instincts did not cause Black Hat to be deterred, for he continued walking and as Demencia attempted to leap off the ground to hug him, the eldritch kept his hand firmly above her head. The result was a cursing Demencia on the floor as she whined and rubbed her scalp softly, her eyes meeting his again.

She repeated the action.

Again.

And again.

And again.

Black Hat had to give her kudos for the continuous determination and tolerance of pain.

“Demencia, would you stop your ridiculous actions!” He finally snapped and the teenager seemed to wilt a little, only to flourish a second later, giving the affect that she hadn’t been affected by his harsh words whatsoever.

“But Black Hat, I did what you asked,” she sprung up eagerly, “don’t you think I deserve a reward?” The flirtatious tone in her voice caused something vile to crawl up the eldritch’s throat and he scoffed, repulsed at his minion’s obvious attempts of flirting. The girl was merely nine-teen human-years-old and not what Black Hat would consider an intimate partner.

“No. And unless you wish to continue this conversation from through a broken window, I insist you shut up and follow me to Doctor Flug’s laboratory,” he insisted and turned to head towards the destination. Demencia seemed unaffected and followed behind with a skip in her step, the woman rambling about irrelevant subjects.

“Also, the human you made me visit was super dorky!” The lizard-hybrid cackled, wiping a tear from her eye. “They were super cute though, answered the door with a smile. Pretty rare for villains and civilians in general,” she added nonchalantly, a bemused smile on her lips.

Demencia attempted to continue the conversation but was cut short by Doctor Flug’s shouts of rapture. Both Demencia and Black Hat entered the lab to find the Doctor sitting at his desk with a series of blueprints pinned to the multiple corkboards around the large space. The monitor sitting against the wall was a haze of static and on the left-hand side there was a grey menu screen with multiple options wavering between HaT-CaM 1, HaT-CaM 2 and Cam-Bot.

HaT-CaM 1 had a blinking light next to its name.

Hearing the sound of his companions’ footsteps, Flug turned to towards Demencia and Black Hat (with 5.0.5 lurking behind them whilst he swept around one of the work benches). The excited scientist seemed to flush from the unwavering stares from the twos’ presences and shrunk in on himself, his hand twitching against the mouse button and scrolling over HaT-CaM 1 again.

“Sir, the- um- the HaT-CaM is in position and ready for- uh- use,” Doctor Flug floundered and looked to Black Hat for confirmation. The demon entity grinned and approached the anxious scientist, placing a clawed hand on his shoulder with a rough shake. The congratulation was cut short by Black Hat’s insistent nature and he watched, entranced, as the mouse on screen clicked on the Hat-Cam 1 icon and the display turned black.

It flickered.

Light filled the monitor and a room came into view.

A kitchen.

There was an absence of human life and the four-respective members of species waited with bated breath. Initially, the HaT-CaMs were supposed to follow their hosts from room to room and were designed to not leave the perimeters unless they were somehow hidden on their host’s form or bag.

Flug sucked in a shaky breath.

A clatter caught the attention of the four members and a figure came into view dressed in warm clothing, most likely pyjamas, and an apron tossed over the space-aesthetic material. The fabric sleeves didn’t hide the bandages wound tightly around their fingers nor did it change the fact that the human had a very prominent limp. If Flug was correct, he could see the shape of an ankle-support hidden under their clothing on their left leg. Most likely due to last Friday’s fight.

Black Hat studied the human and frowned in thought.

They didn’t seem special.

Mediocre at best.

You shifted from foot-to-foot as you rattled through the kitchen drawers and cupboards for appropriate food. The time had just turned twelve pm, as shown by the clock hanging above your head, and Flug noticed Demencia lean forward in wonder. The girl seemed enthralled, almost admiring, and he found himself questioning the thoughts running through her head. It was rare for Demencia to be so entranced in a person. Well, unless it was Black Hat or a copy of their boss.

The robot shifted and scuttled into a higher area of the kitchen, zooming in on your actions.

You seemed to be humming something absentmindedly as the kettle flicked on and you popped a bagel in the toaster. You spun around on your good leg and the hum turned into singing. The melody escaped Black Hat, the song niggling at the back of his mind, as did it for Flug. Watching your movements carefully, you collected the bagel and covered it in your preferred spread. The water was poured into a mug and you stirred it carefully, scooping the teabag out slowly and letting some of the water drip off the spoon. The wet splat that emitted from the teabag made Flug shiver out of disgust.

Demencia suddenly burst out into loud laughter.

“They’re singing All Star! Oh my god, they like memes,” she cackled wildly. Flug groaned as it clicked and he shoved Demencia in good humour, which she retaliated with a mildly strong punch to his upper arm. It was much more painful.

Black Hat rested his elbows on Flug’s workbench and squinted at the human, judging their character. They seemed much more mellow and less quirky than the original human he had met. Their injuries appeared to be in similar places compared to the human he had met previously, however the forcefield human hadn’t seemed injured at the time. But that could just be ruled up to human adrenaline.

You paused and suddenly a dorky guffaw bellowed from your mouth, a snort following quickly when you took too deep of a breath abruptly. A smile played on your lips as more laughter tumbled from your mouth and Black Hat felt recognition hit him like a truck. Your smile was much more familiar than the neutral frown you wore when concentrating. The grin held something playful and socially awkward underneath the cheek dimples. It was almost the exact same smile you had sent him last week, but with less tension and fear etched into your skin.

“It’s them.”

Demencia, Doctor Flug and even 5.0.5 turned towards Black Hat. The eldritch studied the human on screen for a minute longer and nodded with a malevolent gleam in his eye, his neck contorting to allow his head to spin far enough to view all three of his minions from a right-angle.

“Say hello to your new co-worker.”

Much to the surprise of the two minions and Black Hat, 5.0.5 shoved his way towards the screen and sat on the tiled floor with a hefty thwump! His tail wagged very slightly and his eyes were transfixed on you with utter amazement. You were currently singing something very low under your breath and swaying your hips as you devoured your brunch, somehow setting up a series of ingredients for baking whilst doing so. The sequence of flour, eggs, Oreos and chocolate gave them a serious hint that you were either making cookies or brownies with Oreos in the centre.

5.0.5 made a small grumble of excitement as you smiled in the same direction of the robot, completely oblivious to its position behind a mangy spiderweb in the furthest, darkest corner of the kitchen.

He turned towards Flug expectantly.

Excitement filled 5.0.5’s aquamarine orbs and Flug could do nothing against 5.0.5’s wishes, or Black Hat’s for that manner. The human was a wanted and needed part of Black Hat Inc.

5.0.5 better start setting up that new room.

Chapter Text

Nightmares were not uncommon for Black Hat.

He was plagued with them constantly, the deepest fears and unspoken words seeming to haunt his unconscious body from deep inside his subconscious. But the fangs of terror and cruelty had grown blunt after his youth, the once harsh reality and gripping fears having withered under his uprise of villainy.

He was no longer child, and he hadn’t been one for several hundred years.

Yes, nightmares were quite common for Black Hat. However, they affected him less than when pricked by a needle. They were short, seemingly painful for a moment and quickly dulled with the fuzzy memories.

Most of the time, he couldn’t recall the throbbing visions.

They were unimportant.

Insignificant.

Unlike dreams.

Dreams were a rarity.

Villains did not have dreams.

There was reality and then there were nightmares. And needless to say, most villains were pessimists in darkly-coloured clothing. But moreso for Black Hat, dreams were child’s play. They were easy to manipulate, easy to crush and easy to manifest into someone’s own twisted fantasy.

Dreams of love? They could be torn away by words thrown at a person’s fragile self-esteem. Ripped to shreds by strangers and anonymous voices. Eventually, all that would be left was a husk of that previous person and their bitterness at the world. They would view themselves as ‘unlovable’ and be exactly that.

Dreams of fame? Easy. Give a person one small taste of fame and they would hunger for more. They would lust for popularity and to be loved, to be adored! And what would happen when they achieve their desired goal? A short-lived happiness that would eventually swelter into a boil of depression. A shrivelled dream that made them oh-so happy at the thought, but not at the reality.

Dreams of happiness? It was hard, but even dreams of the purest joy can be crushed like ice. Taunt them. Show them. Be relentless but keep it out of their reach. It’s enough to make a person turn insane.

But amidst this all, the rarest of dreams for villains were the subconscious memories and thoughts that leave them feeling joy after a long night sleep. For most villains were traumatised, wounded mentally or physically, felt unlovable or were viewed as twisted sociopaths. They found themselves at a loss when it came to dreams because in a society of villains and heroes, villains did not deserve dreams.

They deserved power.

They deserved recognition.

They deserved money.

But villains did not deserve dreams.

And it seemed that because of the fellow belief that villains were not deserving of happiness beyond reality, they did not have it. Dreams were rarely discussed in the villain community and with good reason besides the overall ‘weakness’ that was viewed with the stereotypical thought.

Dreams were exclusive to those only with a good nature, a good heart, a good belief.

So, dreams were uncommon in Black Hat Manor, understandably. That did not mean that they never occurred.

Black Hat remained slouched in the velvet-lined chair, his tie undone and his hat tipped forward. The rim of said hat hid his eyes from sight, his monocle lying on the desk with a thin chain unravelled next to it. The grey eldritch seemed peaceful, his chest rising with habitual breathes and the odd rasp or whistle that occurred due to his oddly shaped teeth.

His eyebrows furrowed.

Black Hat was always lucid in his dreams.

Something he wished that he could transfer into his nightmares.

“Sir, I’m not sure what your initial plans for this attack were,” a voice lingered by his ear in the darkness. “And I am not scolding you for the lack of an actual plan here,” it continued, “but would it fucking kill you to use the walkie talkies that Flug and I created!” The voice’s tone changed and Black Hat recognised the bottled-up anger behind their biting words.

“Not only did you throw yourself into an unbelievable amount of danger, and don’t you dare use the ‘I’m-an-eldritch-I-can’t-get-hurt’ excuse,” they seethed and he felt a twinge of pain on his right arm. He tried to move it and found the pain increased. “Stop it! You’re only going to hurt yourself even more, and I don’t care if I’m patching you up too roughly as this wouldn’t have occurred if you listened,” they snapped and he felt weirdly timid at their scolding. A rumble echoed in the darkness and the voice sighed, a sharp pain suddenly coming into contact with Black Hat’s forehead.

“Shut up and don’t get angry with me,” they stated simply. The rumble replied and he felt a hand pat his jaw in a friendly gesture- an uncommon motion with his minions and acquaintances. “I’m so sorry, sir, but when you act like an idiot and get yourself hurt like an idiot, I’m going to treat you like an idiot! And no ‘I-have-a-higher-authority-than-you’ attitude will change that,” the voice explained with a certain exasperation that had Black Hat growling and spewing an insult.

The voice laughed.

“Your apology is as terrible as last time and I know. I have it recorded. But you wouldn’t have to apologise if you tried to at least keep Flug, Demencia and I up-to-date with your little endeavours whilst on missions!” The voice seemed to scold once again and another twinge of pain occurred in his arm.

He hissed.

“Oh shoot, I’m sorry! Are you alright, sir?” The voice had somehow done a one-eighty and he could feel eyes focusing on his face through the darkness. The rumble replied again and the eyes fell.

“Alright, if you say so. I know you’ll be all healed up by tonight, but it’s safer for you and for everyone else if your wounds are bandaged and cared for,” they explained softly and Black Hat relaxed. Hands skimmed over his biceps and it occurred to the eldritch that he was without his usual coat and waistcoat. He wasn’t even in his usual dress shirt- just a simple top.

“And even if you don’t seem to care for the medical procedure of wound cleaning, I feel much happier when you’re not at risk of infection-” The voice hummed. “And could you please stop hiding behind your hat? I know you’re stubborn and all, but me bandaging one simple wound is not going to kill you via embarrassment!”

Dim light flickered across his vision.

His eyes settled on the mysterious voice in front of him.

The human.

“There,” you smiled. “I can actually see you and we can have a sensible conversation without you hiding behind the rim of your hat.” To emphasise your point, you flicked the top hat further back on his head and earnt a glare in return.

You chuckled and met his glare, “Oh bite me, Black Hat.”

He seemed to hold back another glare and harsh comment. Instead Black Hat watched your hands continue to bind thick white gauze over his arm with kind strokes. Much like 5.0.5, you took your time in ensuring that no pain came to Black Hat and his injury. Unlike the large bear, your care and consideration struck a chord within him that made him docile and unlikely to yell at your slow pace.

Strange.

“And done,” you chimed in a tuneful song. Your hands trailed from the injury and down his arm, patting his knuckles and rising from your sitting position. It only occurred to Black Hat that the two of you were situated on his bed, a series of medical swabs and towels covering the bed covers.

“Now, I expect you to not strain yourself!” You stated firmly and Black Hat turned to face your determined expression. His eyes squinted, scanning you up and down in an almost comical fashion. Much closer, you were weirdly charming. Very unlike the first encounter that he had suffered through.

Your outfit consisted of black jeans, a red shirt with an unfamiliar design- something space-like if he guessed- and trainers. A lab coat was thrown recklessly off to the side and so were a pair of red gloves. It was almost an exact replica of Doctor Flug’s outfit.

His eyes trained on your messy hair, the shade seeming to throw him off as it was lighter than he last remembered- his memory seeming to mess with the dreamscape surrounding him. Your eyes were darker too, much less friendly than he recalled. Your smile remained the same however, and the curved muscle had Black Hat studying your teeth.

They were blunt, obviously white as most humans adorned white teeth, and seemed far less impressive than his own.

Black Hat would never admit that he had a weird fascination with teeth.

Maybe it was due to his own green canines?

“Can you stand on your own, sir?” You asked politely and moved forward, a visible limp weighing you down. Black Hat bit back an insult and rose from the black sheets, towering over your smaller body and scowling. He tried to choose his words wisely, almost like he was trying to find something other than an insult to say.

His dream version interrupted him.

“I am not injured enough that I cannot endure simple tasks such as standing,” he rasped, “and you should not be offering assistance when you are still recovering!” His dream version growled out heatedly, a glare covering his features as his irises bore into the human’s eyes.

They huffed and despite their stubborn nature, he noticed the obvious frustration and hurt behind their angry features. It wasn’t uncommon for humans to become emotionally wounded by simply addressing the situation and his dream version seemed to grunt in acknowledgement. A hand ran down their back and you leant away, your hurt more childish than needed, and Black Hat growled. His good arm wound its way around your waist and you were hauled back to the black bed, the emergency kits having been removed by dream logic. You were obviously angry as you attempted to move off the bed, your movements soon cutting short when Black Hat’s eyes flashed red dangerously.

Your acknowledgement was more than enough evidence that you were acquainted with his laser eyes.

“You will rest on this bed and you will allow your leg to heal enough for you to walk,” he growled out dangerously. You nodded begrudgingly. “You will allow 5.0.5 to heal you and you will not work whilst you are recovering as it did not end well last time, and I hope you have learnt from that mistake.”

Whatever ‘last time’ was, Black Hat did not know.

“Do I make myself clear?” His dreamstate stated and glowered at your bedridden form. You muttered another begrudging ‘yes’ and buried your face into the pillows, your arm curling around the soft material. You seemed to radiate a certain frustration and sadness that Black Hat usually relished, but his dream version seemed to have opposite feelings. Instead, he huffed and began marching out the door, only to pause and let out a loud groan. He bent over with his hands held up in exasperation.

“Fine.”

You peered over your shoulder with a shit-eating grin.

He stomped over the bed and ripped the blankets from under your body, making quick work with the sheets to wrap you up nice and snug. Once satisfied, he sat next to your small form and pet your head once. Something he did rarely, but did as a sign of gratitude towards his minions.

“Thank you.”

You smiled and it seemed that the realisation of your flaws had caused the dream to shift. Your hair was darker, more accurate, and your eyes glistened with warmth and a general friendliness that would make any villain scowl. They would claim it’s a weakness, maybe even want to corrupt that general happiness and joy that reflected in the kind reflection.

Black Hat could feel the temptation.

He wanted to crush it.

Destroy it.

Twist it.

His dreamstate did not.

“Get well soon,” he growled out lowly. Almost like it physically hurt him. Your name followed closely behind and a smile erupted across your features at the acknowledgement.

“You too.”

The banging a few floors down had Black Hat cursing and awaking with an abrupt jump. He could hear Doctor Flug cursing loudly and the sound of scraping from deeper into the manor. Black Hat swiftly wiped away the sand that had gathered overnight, waiting for Flug to run upstairs and alert him of a problem. He quickly clicked his monocle chain in place and adjusted the monocle to sit in its usual place. Black Hat brushed his suit and hat down right after.

Sitting at his desk, the banging had subsided and the eldritch frowned, his eyes gleaming irritably.

Well.

That was anti-climactic.

He could no longer hear the yells of the Doctor and Demencia was oddly quiet, which was never a good sign. Black Hat could only hope that she was busy bothering 5.0.5 or bugging Flug in the most productive way she could.

Leaning back in his chair, Black Hat let his mind dwell on the thoughts of his minions working (or annoying) at their usual stations. But that arose questions as he was still planning, scheming of how he was to capture the human that had enthralled him with a simple metal structure and magnetic fields.

And he had a dream.

A dream about the human.

If anything raised alarm bells, it was the dream.

Everything else could be sorted out easily. Could be dealt with in a moment. Could be left to his minions’ devices until they found a strategy that would work and have you working for him.

Not a dream.

Dreams don’t come to villains without a price.

Without a need.

Without a want.

Did he truly desire the human’s craftsmanship so much?

Well, obviously he did. Their brain was so unique and held so many original ideas. A forcefield of all things? And it was contained in such a small container. It was a portable piece of radiation and magnetism that didn’t alter human bodies. It was ten years ahead of the current time!

You were truly an intelligent human.

That contained faults, though.

If Black Hat had learnt anything from Flug, it was that humans and mutants of high IQs were usually antisocial, awkward and had issues with human contact.

You were awkward, Black Hat had gathered that already. But he could possibly just draw that up to the circumstance if need be.

And did he truly want two awkward scientists as his minions? With their raving of science and their fangirling over other scientists, or possibly your fangirling over each other. Black Hat had already suffered from Flug’s excited outburst about the forcefield, so how would Flug react when he actually met you. The creator.

Black Hat could feel a headache building.

The door opened.

Glancing up, Black Hat was surprised to find Flug standing in front of him as he panted from exhaustion. His bag seemed to show the sweat running down his body from possibly running up the three flights of stairs from his lab, the scientist obviously very out of shape despite his active lifestyle from running away from his failed projects.

“Doctor, why might you be he-?”

A phone was shoved into his face.

“You might want to see this, sir.”

Chapter Text

The hazed screen made Black Hat squint and he silently cursed himself for leaving his glasses elsewhere.

Snatching the small device from his employee’s hand he pulled it closer to his face, an unwelcomed snarl forming over the dark entity’s lips. The pixelated screen seemed to dart between pink and green as he focused on whatever was present on the phone, eventually having to pull it back so that he wouldn’t get a headache whilst Doctor Flug shifted from foot-to-foot, seemingly antsy and wanting Black Hat to hand his phone back.

He huffed.

“Flug, where are my glasses?” Black Hat glanced up as the scientist jolted and quickly shoved a hand into his lab coat, checking a few more times and pulling a black glasses case from his bottom pocket. The item was handed to Black Hat quickly and the eldritch praised himself for leaving spare pairs in separate parts of the manor, mostly for his minions to pick up and deliver when needed.

Opening the case, Black Hat removed the circular frames and slipped his monocle off, placing it on his desk once again. The glasses were adjusted to his liking and he turned back to the phone, turning it on and looking at the page that was pulled up on screen. He was immediately interested at the title that read:

‘Forcefield scientist to-be hired by anonymous villains’

He let the screen roll down further and the fibres in his core began to grind in annoyance with each word. The article was written by a member of the villain community, a low-income minion for one of the higher-off villains that Black Hat was well acquainted with. Its description was that of an interviewing format and the tipsy-topsy information that Black Hat wasn’t quite sure was true or false. He tapped on the screen once more and anger swelled in his chest whilst a too-familiar scenario was depicted on screen, his eye scanning the photo of wreckage and horror at an unsteady rate.

Well, hello again Doctor.

It seems you have created yourself a well-known visage in a matter of days.

Black Hat mused silently and his mouth twitched at the realisation that someone had seen the exchange last Friday with himself and the human inventor. And that someone had researched into the human inventor that Black Hat was so interested in hiring. Somehow this someone had seen the potential behind their awkward mannerisms and it had led to that someone actively pursuing the inventor and hoping to force them into working for their own business.

The phone broke in his grasp. Black Hat’s claws dug through the glass cover and pierced into the metal casing- ripping apart the wiring inside. The glass dug into his skin, the shards threatening to tear at his callous palms and for blood to drip down from the shallow cuts. A few wires shocked him amidst his uncontrolled waves of anger.

“Flug.”

Venom dripped from beneath Black Hat canines and the scientist ignored his wrecked phone in exchange for his boss’ change in demeanour. The doctor wasn’t a stranger to Black Hat’s sudden mood swings nor his dangerous and reckless actions.

“It appears we have a competitor, don’t you agree?”

Flug muttered a soft agreement.

“Grab Demencia and 5.0.5. It seems our plans have been forced to move to a closer date and we must take the time we have to capture our dear Doctor as of present,” Black Hat chuckled lowly and dropped the dismembered mobile on his desk. He proceeded to remove the glasses from atop his high cheekbones, where they had remained balanced, and Flug gulped at the hollow hole bearing at him- the teeth sticking out with shards of malleable bone and veins pulsing from inside the eye socket. He nodded silently and turned, hoping to exit the room before Black Hat lashed out at him for his slow actions, and all but bolted from the gothic room.

Flug stopped outside the door, closing it firmly and nodding slowly. Heading downstairs to find his fellow minions in their usual habitats he trembled lowly as he descended the staircase and wrung his wrists to calm his anxiety, hoping to find Demencia and 5.0.5 before Black Hat truly lost his temper and showed his true eldritch form from behind his smart clothes and grey skin.

His anxiety was not okay.

The Doctor continued his descent and left his terrified thoughts to simmer at the back of his mind, hoping that Black Hat wouldn’t do anything too dramatic whilst he searched for the assassin and large bear. It would not be a welcoming sight for the three to return and find Black Hat’s office in tatters due to his uncontrollable temper and the childish tantrums he threw over things he wanted.

And boy, did he want this new scientist.

Flug felt almost hurt that Black Hat wanted a new, different scientist and that his inventions no longer lived up to the eldritch’s expectations. However, the advantage was that with a new scientist Flug would have a larger access to free time and other activities beyond his work and mechanical engineering.

Maybe he would finally have enough time to study astronomy or start the ukulele as he once aspired to do.

But, having worked with Black Hat for such an extended period of time, Flug was shot with a sense of reality and he realised that the eldritch would most likely not lessen up on his workload despite the new employee.

In fact, Flug would most likely have to teach the human the ups and downs of working for a villain, no less a villain with Black Hat’s status in the Villain community. He was probably going to be the employee that would teach the human what to not touch, not move and where to not enter, too. The idea that the human would stumble over Lil’ Jack, Black Hat’s pet snake, was surely chilling. He supposed that another disadvantage was the ton of new work that was going to be shoved on to his shoulders with this new Doctor being ‘hired’.

Flug was torn at whether he was truly excited about sharing his workshop with another set of hands.

Sure, he was excited to see what their ingenious mind could create and to what limits it could be stretched to. He was also eager to work on related projects with them, but he was a person of solitude and having another person in the lab was not his definition of solitude. It was the exact opposite, actually.

Truly, he felt a little in over his head.

A cackle cut Flug’s pessimistic train thought and he was startled when a force landed on his shoulders with unsteady motions. Flug groaned and stopped the girlish shriek that rose from the back of his throat, swatting the teenager on his back with a lacklustre force that had her laughing from the playful actions. She swung around and sat on Flug’s shoulders, freezing as he tilted to the side and regained his balance.

“Demencia, now is not the time for this!”

The girl shrieked joyously and used Flug’s shoulders as leverage, jumping from his frail body and landing in a crouched position before him. Her eyes gleamed maliciously as the scientist toppled over and landed on the ground with an ungraceful ‘thwump!’ She cackled once again at the dishevelled person before her.

“Sorry-not-sorry, Doc! It was just too tempting,” Demencia grinned and stood to her full height. She gripped the poor scientist’s arm and tugged him up for the ground, almost ripping his arm from the arm socket. Dusting his chest as a playful taunt, she patted the paper bag softly and stepped back with a hum. She nodded.

“Perfect! You can’t even tell that you fell over,” she shot him a double thumbs-up and her grin widened at the unimpressed stare Flug directed her way. He seemed to give up and dragged a gloved hand down the front of the paper bag, shooting her another glare from above his yellow gloves.

“Are you done yet or do you wish to keep ignoring the fact I am trying to inform you that Black Hat wants you, 5.0.5 and I in his office?” Flug muttered out bitterly and remained passive as Demencia’s expression switched to a mixture of utter devotion and averted her full attention onto the scientist’s feeble form. Her eyes were comically wide and held a psychotic gleam that she would consider a ‘loving gaze’.

“What are we waiting for then, Flug? Let’s go see my handsome Blacky!” She announced loudly and scaled the wall at an alarming rate, swinging from the great rafts and beams that blended into the black ceiling. Flug could only watch as she jumped from the ceiling and landed on the landing, waiting for the scientist to walk up the stairs at his usual profligate pace.

Once at the top of the stairs, Flug was grabbed by his shirt collar and dragged by the lizard mutant to their boss’ office, luckily bumping into 5.0.5 on the way. The blue bear meandered behind with a concerned look expressed across his muzzle as Flug’s paper bag started to turn pale from lack of oxygen. He ended up cutting in when Flug’s pupils rolled to the back of his head and picked the skinny scientist up, following Demencia as she jumped excitedly and spouted loud declarations of love and interest.

Black Hat’s door was open.

The three entered.

“5.0.5,” the eldritch’s gravelly voice cut through the tense atmosphere in the office. The blue bear’s ears fell flat against his skull as Black Hat looked up from the paperwork on his desk, having moved the destroyed phone into the waste bin under his desk.

“Prepare the bedroom beside Doctor Flug’s and ensure it contains all the needs for a human to live here with no escape. And Demencia-!” The dark entity threw a bag at the redheaded teenager, which she caught with ease, and then a rope of chains. Demencia stared at the collection of items and realisation clicked, her mouth twitching into a devilish grin.

“Tie the chains around your waist. It appears we have more urgent matters than I thought and we have a set of competitors after our precious human Doctor,” Black Hat clarified briefly. He nodded to her, “So it seems that your job of ‘collecting’ our new employee has been moved to today. Do not dawdle.”

He nodded at the young woman and let out an incensed sigh as Demencia bolted from the room with unreasonable stamina. She cackled insanely at the prospect of a chase or from the idea of a new face around the manor.

“And Doctor Flug,” he faced the shaky scientist who clung to 5.0.5 as he regained his breath. “I expect you to set up the lab for our new arrival and have a place ready for them to start work. Also, in case of a possible breakout from the new Doctor, have the alarmed system ready with the paralysation rays. None of the death rays today, but maybe tomorrow. I will confirm whether they should be reactivated tomorrow or not.”

Black Hat nodded in agreement with himself, waiting for Flug’s compliance, and glared at the two minions.

“Now get the fuck out of my office. I’m tired of looking at your faces.”

__

Demencia jogged along the sidewalk with an ever-present grin etched into her angular features, her sharp eyes scanning the area with utter precision and a thin tongue flicking from between her lips. The brown sack thrown over her shoulder seemed to smell of slight rot and decay, but only that of common mould, and the chains around her hips clanked together with her steady footsteps.

A squeal escaped her and she hopped over a crack on the pavement, reciting the well-known ‘step on a crack, break your mother’s back’ rhyme. Demencia may not have been raised by the woman who birthed her, but the lady must have been freaking awesome to bring someone life Demencia into the world. So ultimately, the teenager concluded that the woman did not deserve a broken back.

She stopped at a crossing.

The light blinked a few times and the pedestrian crossing turned green.

Demencia crossed with a skip in her step.

She was excited as heck with Black Hat assigning her a mission. A mission to retrieve their new partner too! The excitement boiling in her stomach had Demencia screeching excitedly as she entered the familiar neighbourhood of her unfamiliar acquaintance. Not only was she going to meet a new person, a new cool person who could build awesome shit and tell physics to fuck itself, but when she did collect them- she couldn’t help but imagine how Black Hat happy would be!

The tall, dark and eldritch villain would surely praise her and inform Demencia of all her achievements. Oh, and the dark entity would most definitely sweep her off her feet and profess his undying love for the lizard mutant. He would pull her close and kiss her with his cold lips, perhaps nipping at her lips with his gorgeous green teeth- maybe he would even draw some blood-

Demencia screamed into the bare neighbourhood and a dog howled in response.

She stopped in front of a familiar house and a twisted smile graced her lips. The brown bag felt seemingly lighter and the chains turned silent as she ensured the bag wouldn’t fall off her back, tying it in place with a piece of string, and crawled forward on all fours.

The brick layout helped her with grip as she scaled the wall, seeming to climb it with an unseen grace and ease that normal humans could never muster. An open window caught the woman’s eye and she hopped from one ledge to another, balancing easily and cracking the window open to a wider size. Her body contorted and slithered through the gap, landing in an empty bedroom with trinkets scattered over shelves and any seemingly spare surface.

She stared at the disarray of photos, holiday souvenirs and items of interest.

Demencia quickly confirmed that the human really liked taking photos or generally hoarding photos of themselves with others. The number of familiar shaped faces, identical family members and unfamiliar strangers staring from the separate picture frames was slightly unnerving. Supposed she was in your shoes, it would probably cause a sense of fondness or security at having the faces of multiple friends and family members watching you.

And in each photo there seemed to be one familiar likeness.

Your smiling face.

The smile plastered over your cheeks seemed to be similar yet very different in each photo.

In a dark photo, obviously altered to show each face, you had an excited grin that radiated delight. Your eyes were very much crinkled around the edges and displayed your exhilaration. You were surrounded by strange faces and each person was waving at the camera with a large fire in the background.

Another photo was you sitting with two similar featured adults on a living room sofa. You were smiling peacefully and held a sense of mirth in your eyes, seemingly having just stopped laughing from what it seemed.

The photo in a white frame was a photo of you holding a reward, your eyes closed and a wide grin held in place. It was very watery but the smile was that of genuine joy.

Demencia grabbed the white frame and chucked it into the brown bag over her bag. If the human was to come back with her, it was best to grab some of their clothes, personal items and sanitary products. Their phone and any other electronics were to be abandoned and left in their house, for if there was nothing to track them down it was easier to manipulate them into working for Black Hat without the hope of help arriving!

Demencia stifled a cackle and swept a series of important-looking books from a shelf. She raided the nearby wardrobe and stuffed shirt after shirt, jumper after jumper into the brown bag. Shuffling through a few draws she almost started crying from laughter at the discovery of their underwear draw and shoved them into the deepest depths of the sack. It was becoming relatively heavy and she tossed a few more items in from here and there. Demencia even stumbled over the vaporisation gun that Black Hat had made her deliver the other day!

For she had promised to deliver, not to keep her nose out of her boss’ business.

Leaving the gun in its position on the human’s bedside table, Demencia caught sight of two figurines sitting on the windowsill. Moving over to analyse them, her leg caught on the bedside table like a cruel joke, and the alarm clock tumbled off. She paled.

Moving to grab it, the clock fell onto the carpeted flooring and out of her reach by a few nanoseconds. Its deafening beeping had her stamping on it without a second thought and the creaking of stairs caused the redhead to freeze, taking in the situation and to scurry towards the nearest hiding place- above the wardrobe.

The sound of footsteps accompanied the blaring silence and light breathes she took.

Straining her ears, Demencia listened as the human walked along the landing and checked the additional rooms. The sound of doors opening and shutting had her on edge, ready to pounce or attack the Doctor that was investigating the beeping and thumping she had previously caused. Finally, the bedroom door swung open and the human peered in from the doorway that was, thankfully, situated next to the wardrobe. They seemed confused, seeming unperturbed as they walked further into the room and stared at the destroyed alarm clock on the floor.

You wrinkled your nose in bewilderment.

Your alarm clock had been fine earlier this morning and had most definitely not looked like a mauled bear trap when you had awakened. In fact, the alarm clock was seemingly brand new and was a new addition to your bedroom. You had originally just used your phone as an alarm but the machine had been recommended to you by a close friend, so you had purchased it after their high praise.

So how had it ended up trampled and on the floor of your bedroom?

Kneeling before the destroyed clock, you unplugged it from a nearby socket and collected the jumble of wires and coils. Rising from the floor, you kept it a safe distance away from your face and turned to take it downstairs- possibly questioning how it had ended up in such a state.

Yellow flooded your vision.

The alarm clock fell back onto the floor as you were caught in a staring contest with the creature perched above your wardrobe. They were bristled and sat in a rigid stance, ready to pounce if threatened. Their red hair was extremely volumized and could be considered more of a mop than actual hair.
A hand clamped over your mouth as you tried to hide your surprised scream.

WHAT THE FUCK-

They used your vulnerability as an advantage.

The creature leapt from the wardrobe roof and tackled you to the floor with maniacal cackling, manhandling you at such a rate that you just knew that no matter what you did, you would end up with more than one or two bruises by the end of the night. In the stance of a slip on the attacker’s behalf, you kicked a leg out and luckily caught them right in the face.

You froze.

A young woman stared down at you as she wiped away a trail of blood gushing from her nose, unbothered by the red liquid pouring out of her nostrils. The red hair you had noticed earlier was actually dip-dyed a light green and something clicked as you compared the image of your attacker with the new ‘post-lady’ that had yet to return for another paper route.

A question bubbled on your tongue.

Two chains trapped your arms against your sides and the question died in your throat as the woman pinned you to the floor with her knees. She cackled at your squirming and wrapped the chain around your hands, down to bellow your knees and pulled it tighter. You grunted in response.

“Man, that was easier than I expected, huh Doc?” Demencia chortled and rolled you on to your back, pulling you up into a sitting position despite the chains digging into your stomach and restricting your breathing.

“Kind of expected you to pull out one of your cool and crazy inventions to fight me off,” she pouted lowly, “But oh well! The easier you are to catch, the quicker it is to take you back to my beloved~” The woman purred and squatted down, gripping your waist and hauling you off the ground with a strength you had never experienced. The fluidity of her movements caught you by surprise.

Her shoulder dug into your stomach and you moaned in pain, “You could at least-!” A wince of discomfort from the sharp shoulder stabbing your liver, “-Take me out to dinner first,” you joked and tried to squirm out of her arms, hoping the joke gave you enough of a leeway to surprise the woman and escape.
Demencia stopped midway through her step.

“Was that a joke?!”

Well, you were not expecting her to be so excited.

“Oh my gosh, it was a joke! That’s awesome. You actually have a sense of humour, unlike Flug who- mind you- is as interesting as an anxiety-ridden scientist can be,” Demencia explained with good humour. Her pitch had increased by a good three or four octaves. “You have a sense of personality and you like jokes and memes- and you can cook! And- And make awesome forcefields too,” she spouted out at an unbelievable rate. You tried to keep up.

“How do you know about the forcefields?” The question tumbled from your lips at a frenzied rate as panic settled in your chest. This woman was obviously a villain and if a villain knew about your skills, there was only two things they would want from you:

1) In exchange for your business you would be allowed to live, however you would lose any attachment to the forcefield or future products.
2) You were to be killed and all your experiments, inventions and plans were to be stolen by the boss villain.

Demencia let out a happy sigh and added a little skip to her step as she descended down your stairs. “Black Hat gave Doctor Flug, Black Hat Incorporation’s scientist, the forcefield you created and we studied it, tracked it and gave the report to him,” she elaborated and your blood ran cold.

“Let’s just say my Blacky is very interested in your-!” The mutated woman continued talking in a lovestruck tone but you couldn’t pay attention as your breathing increased and your anxiety pitched.

Oh fuck.

OH fuck.

OH FUCK.

THAT WAS WORSE THAN A AND B COMBINED.

“Before I forget, I’ve got to grab the HaT-Cam from the kitchen. On the same note- you wouldn’t happen to have any spare inventions lying about, would you?” Demencia asked you impishly and you stiffened. Her shoulders squared slightly and a hearty laugh filled the corridor.

“YOU DO! I WAS ONLY JOKING, BUT YOU DO!”

You smiled weakly at her obvious excitement.

Oh, you were so dead.

“C’mon Doc, let’s grab the camera we installed in your kitchen then we can collect your inventions and take them back to Black Hat! I’m sure he’d love to see what you work on in your free time and hey, maybe we can hangout after you’ve gotten used to life in the manor,” Demencia offered with an eager chirp. She shoved you higher on her shoulder and guffawed when a broken wheeze escaped you.

“A camera?! And life in the- the manor?” You asked with a sense of inner dread, groaning as she altered you on her shoulder again. The woman stopped in the far right of your kitchen and extended an arm up, snatching an object from one of the darkest corners where no light hit the wall. Opening her palm, a small spy cam in the shape of a hat sat with its legs folded in and a green light forming a shadow on Demencia’s pale skin.

“Yup! Black Hat wants to hire you, isn’t that great?!” She proclaimed ecstatically and pocketed the robot nonchalantly. “Another scientist with skills like yours, we’ll definitely keep position numero uno in the villain market!” You stared wide-eyed and mouth-agape as Demencia began checking other rooms, most likely for your inventions and workshop.

“Are you serious?” A sense of hysteria hit you hard.

Screw being a happy-go-lucky citizen.

You wanted out.

Writhing on Demencia’s shoulder, the chains tied around your body seemed to constrict with every abrupt movement and her hands gripped your side tighter. She seemed to acknowledge your discomfort with little interest and continued with her exploration of your home, bagging some of the items on the way. Your wriggling soon stopped and with a heavy heart, you accepted that perhaps you had no choice in whether you would stay or go.

The sound of a door clicking and swinging open caught your attention.

Demencia gasped.

You paled.

Light shone through the large window panes of your workshop and reflected off the series of forcefield duplicates scattered all over your desk. Your plans and ideas were portrayed on blueprint after blueprint, each pinned to the walls with blue tac and colourful tacks. There was even a print of your most recent discovery behind the fictional idea of holographic computers that were interactive and could form a hologram apart from the screen, switching between different tabs with a single flick of the wrist.

Demencia was chucking everything into the sack in seconds. All your neatly planned and organised files, notes and blueprints shoved into the bag without a care- your projects and tools pouring in soon after. The clinking of metal and all your ideas made bile rise up the back of your throat, clearly uncomfortable at the idea of all your hard work being manhandled so carelessly.

“Ooh, what’s this?” Demencia tugged at the box next to your window, clearly interested in the jumble of blueprints and paper. She shuffled through the bits and shifted you once again, making the bile rise. One certain blueprint seemed to catch her attention specifically and she unrolled it, squealing at the diagram of two anti-gravity boots you had scribbled down whilst half asleep.

The pattern continued as she unrolled another scroll, squealed and shoved it into the brown sack until the whole box was empty.

“Dang, you have such wicked ideas! I’m so excited to see what Black Hat will think,” the redhead shrieked and picked up her speed. She swung the bag back over her shoulder and leapt through the closed window, shattering the glass and causing a scream to erupt from your throat.

WHY COULDN’T SHE JUST WALK THROUGH THE FRONT DOOR LIKE A NORMAL VILLAIN?!

You were mentally screaming the entire walk back through your neighbourhood, your heart pumping with adrenaline as glass shards flaked from the woman’s air and she skipped happily into the darker area of town. The black streets seemed to welcome her with open arms, her eyes scanning the area with a familiar fondness until the dark streets eventually turned light and you watched as normal suburban homes passed by in a blur.

With furrowed eyebrows, you tried to read any of the passing road signs before Demencia stopped in front of a house. She managed to twirl you around to face the monstrosity that was a large manor decked to the nines in black and shaped into the form of a common top hat.

“Like it? This is your new home! I’m sure Flug will be super happy at having another scientist to nerd out with,” she giggled out and hopped over the iron gates with ease. The spiked tops seemed to catch at her tights and a new hole added to the ongoing collection. You let out another shriek when she landed on the other side with you and your belongings in her arms.

The desolate garden added to your dread as she pounced up to the house and opened the door without a problem. Her eyes seemed to widen in suspense and she all but bolted up the stairs after dropping your belongings next to the open entrance.

A set of large black doors awaited at the top.

You dreaded what would come next.

Chapter Text

Demencia seemed to juggle you with ease, tossing you from one arm to the other with such fluidity that it felt weird to be handled so gently by the rather hyperactive woman. The way her body was built made her of an athletic structure. She was lean, but her arms were a strong comparison to the rest of her body. They were muscular and you noticed how some parts bulged- not unattractively- but strangely compared to the regular human bicep muscles. Some parts seemed to writhe under her skin, whilst others appeared to remain stuck in place.

Her hand knocked avidly on the dark-stained doors.

Bile burned at the back of your throat, your eyes watering in fear and discomfort.

In a comically dark and eerie fashion, the doors creaked open by themselves and allowed Demencia to enter with you in tow. Her bouncing steps were a clear example that she was eager to enter, possibly even more eager to become face-to-face with her boss and the common eldritch nightmare, Black Hat.

The bouncing stopped and you were shuffled in her arms, face hidden by her bushy hair, and abruptly ripped from the anxiety-inducing terror of silence. The flow of air rushed past your ears and you almost tumbled off the surface you had ever-so-gracefully landed on. The chains binding your body did little to ease you into a balanced state and your leg throbbed painfully at the lack of general consideration for your body. Shifting, you felt sweat build as the velvet-padded chair embraced your body and allowed you some much required rest. The comfort was unnoticed though, as your eyes were drawn elsewhere and a singular red eye bore back.

“Black Hat, lookie who I found!~” Demencia’s sing-song tune was no relief in your state pseudo-terror, your back ridged and your shoulders tense. Her hands landed forcefully on your shoulders and you tried not to cringe from the pain, her nails digging into your shoulders and threatening to tear your shirt at the seams.

Black Hat leant back.

You tried to do the same.

He smirked.

You smiled weakly.

The villain remained mute, waving a hand to his minion and gesturing to the chains restricting your movement. The red-head immediately went to the task of releasing you from your chained prison and ripped a link in half, the remaining iron slowly buckling from its lack of connection and falling onto the chair. She continued the task and collected the remaining chains, coiling it around her arm like a wire. You watched in captivation of her strength.

The chains were a solid 30kg and she carried them around as if they were a pillow.

You turned back to your battered body and tried rolling your shoulders, a sharp pain shooting up from your shoulder blade and causing a light grunt to form. At least you could move?

“Excellent. Thank you, Demencia. You may leave,” the gravelly voice stated calmly and you watched as the dark entity shuffled his papers. He pressed one with a red stamp and placed them off to the side, leaving the middle of his desk bare to learn on his elbows. His smirk widened.

The woman behind your chair let out a low whine and huffed, stamping her foot childishly and sticking her tongue out. Her tantrum was short and instead she let out a wolf whistle and hummed a taunting, “Fine, but I’ll be back later, Blacky~” Quickly departing before her boss threw another chair at the door.

The door clicked.

Realisation sunk in.

You were alone with one of the most nefarious villains of the 21st century as he stared you down from behind an oak desk. The eldritch leant forward with grace that could be compared to a swan. An ugly grey swan with green teeth and an infatuation for top hats… Could top hats be a kink? Probably. Wow, Black Hat must have been really kinky then.

“Might I ask what you are thinking oh-so-hard about?” Black Hat rasped and tapped his gloved hand against the desk surface, the effect instantaneous as the room’s temperature dropped a few degrees in seconds.

“Oh, uhm, nothing important,” you waved a hand in a weak attempt to seem comfortable. A bruise on your elbow caused you to pause moments later, letting it drop back onto your pyjamas-clad legs. You must have been making a truly wonderful firs- second impression on this mafia boss of a monster. Wild, unruly hair from the redhead's manhandling, hot chocolate stains coating your lips and you were still dressed in pyjamas from another lazy day. But hey, at least they were well-covering and warm!

The eldritch looked unconvinced but turned away from your terrified form, his hands pulling out a large draw and removing a well-kept folder decked in black crochet. The draw slammed shut, causing you to jump, and Black Hat grinned at your high-strung reaction.

Your name rolled off his tongue with such precision that you had no choice but to listen as the villain recited your address, age, work address and profession from the small folder. He read out your parents’ names, your school background and the field you had graduated in. Black Hat’s single red eye gleamed greedily as he spread the documents over the desktop and rested his chin over folded hands.

“My, my! What a talented little inventor you are, Doctor.” He smiled and although it looked utterly fake, the points too stiff and his eyes wrinkled in a way that was unnatural in many ways, you noticed the eager precision behind his shark-toothed grin. “An inventor of many talents. Engineering, therapy- a family human! My, what a splendid thing to be,” he chimed.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Surely if he was interested in your research, why was he asking about your family life? Yes, you tried to be very family and friend-orientated. It was good for any human’s mental state to have a group of people to support you. But why ask?

“This is yours, I presume. You did give it to me.”

A blue forcefield was laid in front of you and your eyes widened.

It was the blue brother to one of your earlier forcefield prototypes. Its edges were slightly unkempt and the blue hue in its centre seemed to shift to different concentrations randomly, but it most definitely was the brother.

A hand rose and your fingers skimmed its edge, hesitating in case Black Hat were to harm you. He sat back with a calculating gaze, studying your reaction with sharp eyes and a monocle. Your fingers wrapped around its small size and you drew it in closer to your face, prodding at the separate compartments, seeing whether it had been reconstructed or altered somehow. As your fingers grazed the elevated centre, your voice rose in curiosity whilst the taunting question sitting at the back of your mind eventually rose from your lips.

“How’d you know so much about me?” Your face lifted to gaze at the dark monster. “And what does this have to do with me creating this forcefield?” You waved the forcefield lightly and slid it back to the eldritch. Your hand barely passed a few inches in front before stopping and you drew it back onto your lap.

Black Hat chuckled at your cautious movements.

“Good doctor, I have a proposition for you,” he stated, an aura of pride seeming to increase the arrogance he portrayed. “It appears that you are exactly what Black Hat Incorporations needs!” Black Hat cackled lowly and grinned at your shocked form, leaning over his desk with his hands inches away from your own. “Obviously you are intelligent! A mind who can build portable forcefields must be bright, the shrinking of molecules and the change of density is genius,” he slammed a hand down. “You are to be the assistant scientist of our company, just under Doctor Flug, our head scientist.” A gloved claw was jabbed in front of your face, Black Hat’s face lingering much too close to comfort, seemingly caught up in his plans and declaration of servitude.

“Uhm, Black Hat, sir?” You tried to remain composed and polite. “Sorry to have you go through all this trouble to find me, but, uh, I’m actually quite happy with my job right now! A-And don’t get me wrong, I’m flattered that you want to hire me,” you chuckled quietly, “but I have a good income and I get along with all my co-workers. And my patients are a delight to help!” You smiled, hoping the villain would accept your explanation and allow you to leave.

This was going to be one hell of a story to tell your parents.

The eldritch’s smile fell instantly and a glower formed over his painfully sharp features. His hands clenched into tight fists and his grin tightened into a malicious leer. He leant forward, hands propping himself up as he towered over the furniture and you were viciously reminded how tall the dark entity was.
“Doctor, it appears you misunderstood!” Black Hat exclaimed too-happily. “It was not an offer, it was a demand,” his voice deepened into an uncouth and atrocious growl. “You will star-!”

“Excuse me, but if you’re forcing me into this line of work without my permission or my admission, then that isn’t a job. It’s slavery!” You shot up from the chair, glowering from the unjust way he treated you. “I have the choice as a citizen and a resident of Suit City to deem a job unfit for my lifestyle or not well for my mental health. Forcing me to work could be considered a federal crime, and I understand that you are a vicious villain, but without loyal and willing minions-!”

“$200,000 annual income with a health plan, dental care and your own laboratory. You have residential housing and there is room for you in the manor, which incidentally is where you will be fed and supplied with accessibility to hot water, electricity and internet. If that is considered slavery, then I cannot imagine how you would act during the 1600s.”

You choked on your own spit.

WAS HE SERIOUS?

“And the- the disadvantages?” You could tell that Black Hat knew you were slowly warming to the idea. Not like the kidnapping and show of power did anything to help that.

“I have a contract where no minions are allowed out of the manor without my permission, which means very rarely, and there is a strict rule about lack of contact with people outside the villain community. It is strictly prohibited. Deadlines are also an issue. You will often be given tasks made to be finished in only two to three work days.”

All warmth went out the window three sentences ago.

“No. That is a dead straight, full out no-!” Black Hat attempted to counter your denies but was silenced by your continued train of rambles. “Do you know how bad that is for business? If there are short deadlines, there is a higher chance of the products being faulty and breaking. This can cause lawsuits to follow through from clients being injured or hurt during a malfunction.”

“And if your employees can’t leave the manor, how do they sell enough products? Because surely, if it’s citizens buying products and meeting you personally, it would keep heroes busy trying to prevent the destruction of humanity and you would gain more profit from the reckless residents. The heroes would also turn a blind eye from the villain community whilst they try and maintain some peace, allowing the villain community to take the upper hand and overpower government officials.”

“And don’t even start me on the lack of contact! If an employee does not have enough contact with other people it can cause isolation and anti-social behaviour, which can develop into full on deprivation of human contact and the increased likelihood of depression. This could then decrease productivity and profit- which means you would suffer and so would your minions!”

Two hands slammed on the desktop, trapping your hands between two glove-encased claws. Black Hat grinned eagerly and you gulped in a comical fashion, staring up at the tall monster as he towered over the desk and how his hand fanned out- almost twice the size of your own. He didn’t seem mad, but there was an unbeknownst emotion swirling in his corrupted pupil as his cheeks widened.

“Oh Doctor, you are indeed what this company needs! To think such a tiny mortal could harbour so much intelligence and specie awareness,” he cackled and you chuckled along lightly, not really knowing how to react. “I misjudged your skills and knowledge far too much. Perhaps you should be the apprentice scientist and-!” He snapped his fingers together, pointing one at your nose. “An advertisement manager! Seeing as you know how people work and all, you would know what will make them buy more.”

You squinted at the towering villain.

“Do you mean a social media manager?” The question seemed to die on your tongue, watching as Black Hat glared down at you, glowering at your correction. He hesitated in lashing out at you, thinking about your words and creating a various disarray of faces. Settling for unimpressed and grumpy.

“If that’s what you humans are calling it, yes, a social media manager.”

Wide eyed, you shook out of your stupor and corrected your stance, finally noticing the numbing pain in your sprained ankle. The adrenaline must have blocked out the pain. With a dry mouth you faltered with your speech, “You- I appreciate- I reall- I mean- Thank you for your consideration and everything, and again, the advantages are all wonderful but I already have a job. And I would have had to put in a month notice as I have clients that truly need my help and I cannot just abandon them, leaving them without a specialist to assist them!”

“No worries, I have already dealt with your past job.”

You were silent.

“What?”

Black Hat seemed smug as he rocked back on his heels, turning to stare out the window to his left. “Well, obviously I wished to hire you, but if you were already hired elsewhere, why would you join Black Hat Incorporation? And despite the ‘one-month notice’ notion, the woman I spoke to seemed awfully persistent on your leave.”

You took a shaky step back and slapped a hand over your forehead, letting it slide to your chin and pulling your skin down with it.

“Margaret. Of course, it would be Margaret saying yes to a total stranger if it meant I would leave. She never liked me anyway! And as much as I appreciate your interest in hiring me, you do not have the right to send in my note of dismissal. I do not want to quit being a therapist, I actually enjoy it!” You explained with tones of exasperation edged into your words.

The dark entity whipped around at your words and grasped your wrist, the skin bubbling and black puss filling the boiled skin. You felt no pain but the morbid sensation and grotesque appearance had your squirming, trying to tear away from Black Hat’s cruel act. He let go a moment later and your skin sunk back to normal, the black magic seeping out and leaving the skin a light grey.

You clasped it tight to your chest.

“Like I said, you have no choice and if you deny my demands, you are better off dead and I will simply give your blueprints to Doctor Flug. Who I imagine is perfectly capable of deciphering your writing and creating all the inventions you want to build but never will,” he explained, wiping a hand on his jacket’s sleeve.

The statement was a lie, he doubted Flug would understand one word of the human’s writing.

Your breathing quickened as panic settled in and you grasped your shirt, trying to keep grounded. The smooth fabric helped you somewhat as you ran your fingers over it. Trying to keep a clear head, you remained standing, although with wavering legs, and took a deep breath in.

“I will not cut contact with my family nor my friends. I have the rights to leave the manor whenever I am not working, whether it is for leisure or for work,” you kept bold eye contact with Black Hat as you stated your demands. “I will still attend social gatherings and parties with my friends, my ex-co-workers and I will be attending any family events that will occur whilst I am working for you.”

The tall entity kept eye contact and rose an eyebrow.

“And what makes you think you have the right to make demands?” With a throbbing heart, you stifled a shiver from Black Hat’s glare.

“You obviously went through a lot of work to find out where I work, my home address and to deliver a package with a camera bot to calculate and record my schedule. Most likely to find the right time to kidnap, which would take time and effort. And if I weren’t here you would never know how to build the forcefields and the ideas that you believe I have, meaning you would not have any new materials to sell or any more profit to gain. So obviously you want my work, otherwise what was the point of searching for me?”

You remained silent as the dark entity stared at you, seeming unperturbed by your analysation, but the dilation of his one pupil seemed to show enough surprise for you to be proud of yourself. Black Hat stepped away from the accented stain-glass window and rounded his desk, standing in front of you with less than a metre between the two of you. He towered over you (or was it just the top hat?) and your eyes fell upon the extended hand he presented to you.

“Fine. I accept your terms and conditions. However, you must ask a week in advance before you leave for any social gathering of sorts. Quick trips are permitted but you must warn me before you leave, but do not knock on my door when there is a sign on the door. It means I have a client. This is the only extension of your contract I will allow and I will supply with a new phone when the time is most convenient, but if you even try to contact the police your punishment will be worse than you can imagine.”

He leered eagerly.

“Please step out of line whenever you can, I won’t mind putting you back in place.”

You gulped.

Here you were, basically selling your soul to the devil that lived in Hat Town of all places. You were going to be working for a villain whether you liked it or not. You were about to become a minion and become part of the villain community.

Today was crazy.

Would you be able to tell your parents you’re a minion for the infamous Black Hat?

Would you have to hide your identity?

Staring down at the unwavering hand, you looked back up at the villain’s face. “Are you sure you thought this through?” Black Hat’s face froze. “I’m not exactly evil, in fact, I intended to just manufacture my work to citizens in order to protect them and their homes. I’m more of a heroic character than somehow who could be labelled as villainous,” you jested weakly.

The top-hat obsessed monster smirked.

“Didn’t you say that if my employees couldn’t leave the manor, how do would I sell enough products? And that I should sell them to citizens as it would keep heroes busy trying to prevent the destruction of humanity and that I would gain more profit from the reckless residents. And that would make the heroes turn a blind eye from the villain community whilst they try and maintain some peace, allowing the villain community to take the upper hand and overpower government officials?”

Silence.

“I thought so.” Black Hat twisted his hand enticingly. “No matter how we are raised and how we are taught, the subconscious is wiser than the conscious thought. It appears you have already made your choice.”

Your hand wavered in the air and eventually landed in the gloved grip that was Black Hat’s hand. His hand encased yours, hiding it underneath layers of magic, bone and fabric. His grip seemed able to snap a bone in half with a flick of a wrist, but it remained firm and only vaguely rough. You supposed he had to keep up his evil image without full out injuring anyone.

Withdrawing from the quick handshake, you shifted uncomfortably and hissed as you were reminded of your several injuries (courtesy of the redheaded woman) and wounds from Black Hat’s last fight. Glancing up from your injuries, you caught Black Hat’s bored stare and fumbled as he tossed the forcefield to you.

“Make thirty by the end of the day.”

Um, excUSE ME?

“Are you joking? I literally just started and you’re telling me to make thirty forcefields when I don’t where the lab is, I am not unpacked, I am literally lost and heavily injured. Not to mention that matter bending and atom manipulation takes longer than just a few seconds, it can take hours, and with it being almost four in the afternoon- I doubt I could make ten before ten in the evening!”

The eldritch looked unimpressed and his eyebrow twitched in irritation.

“As your boss, do not raise your voice at me unless you wish to meet Lil Jack and become her next meal.”

You nodded immediately.

“I’ll give you leeway only once. Twenty by the end of the day, and I’m only being lenient due to the sudden shift of environments.” He turned towards the oak entrance and opened the heavy door, gesturing with a hand as you sputtered at his demeaning tone.

He smiled devilishly, “Well? Are you just going to stand there like an utter idiot? I want those forcefields done by the end of the day, Doctor.”

Chapter Text

I'm sad to say, knowing that at some point with this year I would have to admit to myself that I would not be able to keep regularly updating this work, that I must put Smiling Expression on a (hopefully) short-term hiatus. I truly love this story and I adore the Reader I've created! They're funny and light-humoured, they're dorky and quirky, and I truly wish I could continue this story with all my might (because I have so many ideas I want to write!!), but it has occurred to me in the past two or so weeks that this year is extremely important for my schooling and future career/s. With all my tests, mocks and exams, I can't keep on top of the quantity and quality of my writing. I'm very sorry to put a sudden stop, especially as I was so excited for it too!

In all honesty, I originally started this story as an oneshot. I had created a series of prompts and I wanted to write one out starring Black Hat and an OC. I'm known for getting far too into my stories and so, it eventually became a multi-chapter series. That's also why, when people ask me if I have a plan, I respond with a very vague 'somewhat'.

Hopefully, when things have calmed slightly and my mocks are out of the way, I'll return with lots of motivation and my (very small) writers block will be gone!!

Thank you so much for all the support I've been receiving these past few weeks.

Hopefully I'll return soon,

~Evie