The Villain and Hero (A Hermitcraft AU Rewrite)

Dreams

The sky was dark with clouds and the smell of rain. A boy standing in the mist hugged his arms against his body and shivered. He was waiting for something. Something important. He couldn't mess this up. It was early morning, and not many people were on the streets. The ones that were moved quickly and with purpose. The boy counted on this to keep people from interfering with him. But not all stayed away.

At one point, a young woman walked up to him, asking him questions he didn't want to answer. He just shook his head and told them he was fine. He didn't need help. He didn't need rescuing. He was just fine on his own. The woman was dubious but let him be, leaving him alone in the mist. Good. now she wouldn't mess with his plans.

Or rather, it was his father's plan. But still, the boy was so excited to finally be involved in his father's job. Technically, he was only a lookout, but lookouts were essential to plans like these. Even if the pickup car was almost 15 minutes late. Even if his father had been skimpy with the details. Even if the boy was starting to get a bad feeling about this whole ordeal.

But when the car his father described pulled up on the curb, the boy knew he was safe. He climbed into the vehicle, but his father wasn't the one sitting beside him in the backseat. The boy was ready to ask some questions, perhaps the job had gone wrong, but the car sped off before he could say a word.

By now, the boy was terrified. None of his father's men spoke English, but these men did. If only he paid more attention to his classes in school, he would understand more than a couple words. Alas, he only caught a few. "The boy." "Money." "Plane." "America." "Boss."

"Who is boss?" The boy asked in broken English.

The two men in the car looked slightly shocked and a little scared. One responded in broken German, "We are taking you to your dad." But the boy didn't believe him. He knew all of his father's men. And all of them called his father boss. Even when it was just him and the men. These men weren't his father's.

When the car finally stopped, it was in front of the airport. Huge planes and hundreds of people overwhelmed the boy. Especially since he still didn't know what was going on. The two men climbed out of the car and led the boy straight past the lines and into a private waiting room. An angry looking man with a harsh American accent greeted them not so kindly. He held out a stack of green paper to the two men who took it with greedy eyes. They pushed the boy towards the man and left the room.

The man grabbed the boy's arm and dragged him out a different door. The boy cried out in pain, but the man squeezed harder. He growled something the boy didn't understand and walked faster. They walked for a short time before walking down a terminal and out onto a small runway. This plane was smaller than most, probably a private jet by the look of it. The boy always wanted to ride on one, but not like this.

He screamed and kicked and cried for his father but a sharp pain in his cheek shut him up. The man had hit him. His father never did that. He promised he would never hurt the boy. What was going on?

The man looked down at the boy and a glint of fear crossed his eyes. He shoved the boy's head so he was looking at the ground and yelled something in English. Two more hands grabbed his arms and the first hand let go. A thick bag was pulled over his head and he thrashed to try and get away. But all he won was a kick to the stomach, so he settled for small whimpers and salty tears.

They tossed the boy on the plane and the last thing he remembered before fading off to sleep was the roar of turbine engines and the floating feeling of takeoff.

...

"Stress!"

Stress woke with a start, gasping for breath. Her heart was pounding and her muscles felt like jelly. She shook the feeling out of her limbs and let out a half cry, half scream.

"Another nightmare?"

"More like another vision."

"Again? They're getting more frequent, then."

Stress nodded. Iskall's statement was far truer than they realized. She didn't even tell them about half of them, and they were already so scared for her. The boy in her dreams, visions, whatever they were, seemed so familiar. It was as if he had met him before, in the waking world. But Iskall didn't need to know that. That would only make them worry more.

"Need anything?"

"No." She lied. What she needed Iskall couldn't get. "Thanks though, luv."

"No need to thank me."

"I know, but still."

"I love you, you know that."

"I love you too." Stress curled up to Iskall and let them snuggle her as she drifted into another night of restless sleep.

...

When Stress woke, she had just seen the boy's arrival into America and his first nights in the new country. He was full of fear and covered with bruises by the time he fell asleep. And still, this stranger felt so familiar. Then again, it was hard to call the boy a stranger.It was as if she knew him personally, even if they had never met.

But then again, many people were like that to Stress. She was a greater empath, or a true empath. Many people claimed to be these sorts of people, and for the life of her, Stress couldn't understand why. It was exhausting, and entirely overwhelming. It took her years to tune her abilities so that she could maintain a 'normal' life. So that she could go outside without getting a splitting headache. So she could make connections with people that felt real.

She read online before that empaths were happy people who helped others figure out their feelings. These articles couldn't be more wrong. She spent most of her life not knowing if her feelings were her own. In what world was she supposed to help others with that. No, these people weren't empaths at all. Perhaps they felt more empathy than most people, but there was a very real and distinct difference between being a little sensitive to other's emotions and feeling them all as if they were their own.

But with practice, and lots of time, Stress figured out a solution. It wasn't perfect, but it certainly helped. Waves. Coming and going with the tides. Washing away everything that wasn't hers. Her mind was her own. No one else's. But this all changed when those dreams started. No waves came in her dreams, nothing could save her from the visions. She thought back to when they started, only a short while ago. It seemed like her life had practically fallen apart since then.

She shot up, causing Iskall to stir beside her.

"Is everything okay?"

"Yes." Stress whispered, and for once, it was true. She figured it out. Where all these dreams came from. It was so simple, she was just so tired she didn't think of it. "I'm going out for a walk, luv. You stay here and sleep."

"Don't have to tell me twice." Iskall grumbled sleepily before drifting back off. Stress slid out of bed and dressed quickly. She had to find him. She had to find that villain who broke into her house. She had to find The Mangler. 

1301 Words 

Don't blame Stress' decision, she's sleep deprived. 

luv you guys <3 

- purple_