Morals of a Villain

Chapter 9: The Call

Damon's guards got back pretty quickly after he had settled into his study again. They didn't quite understand when he explained that Pandora would be staying with them for a little while, but after Damon had gone over the fight in several different ways and gotten more irritated with them each time he had to explain some small, seemingly simple detail extensively, they decided not to push their luck. Clearly, Damon wasn't in the mood to be  dealing with the apprehensions his guards had towards keeping the most feared hero to exist since the 1900s in a plain, simple room that she could easily escape. And they didn't like the idea of annoying him much more than they already had. To their surprise, however, he wasn't mad that they hadn't been able to catch Angel. In fact, he seemed rather relieved, muttering something about hoping she got away safely. 
Damon shooed his henchmen out of the study after he had given them their new duties to attend to, shutting the door firmly behind them and taking a deep breath. "Imbeciles." He muttered. They were very good at their jobs, and most of the time they understood things extremely well. But the fact that they needed to understand them to be sure of what they were doing did get in the way sometimes. Especially when it came to things that were not all that easy to wrap your head around. With a little huff, Damon crossed the room back to his desk, running a hand absently through his hair as he stared down at the papers littered across it. He supposed he wouldn't be needing them anymore. After all, he wasn't negotiating for Angel. He didn't even have a grasp over her anymore. He did hope that she was alright, though. From the way his guards had described what had happened, it sounded as though she had been headed for a car that was parked outside the back gates of the manor, which bordered against the woods leading into a better known area of the 'villain' kingdom. However, before she could get to the car wait for her, a different, much faster one had whipped around the corner, coming to a stop mere feet from the first one so that someone hidden by the tinted windows could drag her roughly into it. A chase between the two cars had then ensued, with the one that had picked Angel up in the lead. Whoever was driving it was most certainly well experienced, and it hadn't taken them long to leave the other car in the dust. A few of the guards had been fully ready to chase the cars, but Damon had told them to leave the whole thing alone. It was better that Angel got away in the method that Pandora had plotted out then risk her falling back into the hands of someone who could use the influence she had over her sister to control the young hero. His pride was not worth her life. 
With a little smile, Damon bundled up all the papers he had been served when Angel had willingly walked into his trap and tossed them in the fire place, adding a drizzle of lighter fuel and a few logs of wood before he dropped a match into the mess. A fire caught quickly, sweeping up into a wonderful blaze within seconds before settling down to burn brightly and warmly. The inks from the maps turned the flames a multitude of colors, making it quite a bit of fun to watch. Like a firework show, but shrunk down and put on a hearth. 
Damon was beginning to let himself drift off into thought, wondering absently if inks would have the same effect on a house fire that they did on a regular one, when the phone rang. He jumped a little, startled. It rang again, affirming that he wasn't just hearing things. He turned to his desk and picked up the elegantly old fashioned device, wondering irritably who on earth would be calling him in the middle of the day. Most of his friends were too busy with their own lives and plans to ever call, as was usual with most villains. Unless they wanted something or were in trouble, he doubted they would ever bother to talk to him between the dates set for the few villain-exclusive parties put on by the king who ruled directly over all things evil. "Duke of Carpture speaking." Damon purred, smiling a little as he did so. He loved it when he got the chance to speak in the soft tones that his position allowed. There was just something so deeply satisfying about letting his voice lilt and warp into one that could be recognized easily by even the most idiotic of fools. 
"You had better be planning on releasing her." A deep male voice said. Not even the watery sound-bending of the old technology could hide how angry the person talking was. Damon grinned even wider. He was going to enjoy this. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean." He said, sitting in his desk chair and kicking his feet up. There was a sound that was halfway between the hiss of a cat and the squawk of a bird, as though whoever was on the other end had just been shot. "Yes you do! Don't you dare lie to me." The man said, the anger in his voice escalating to absolute, undying rage. Damon chuckled. "Why so mad, my good sir? It's not like being so hateful is going to change anything." He said. Of course someone calling to bombard him about a hero he had only captured about an hour ago would be furious. No one on that side ever seemed to be anything else. "Listen here." The man continued, dropping his voice even lower. "You do not know what you're getting yourself into. If you keep her for even a day, all hell will rain down on you. And that is a threat." He said. 
Damon smiled, leaning forward a little bit to pick up one of the pens littering his desk so he had something to fiddle with absently as he talked. "Oh, is that so? I don't see how you would manage that. After all, I have most of the power and influence you posses locked up in what's effectively a prison at this very moment. If you want to send all the heroes you might still have out here to be slaughtered, then you can. You should just know that it won't make any sort of difference to me. Although, come to think of it, you would be doing a favor for some friends of mine who have been forced to deal with this shit for far longer than they would like. I imagine they would love to have a break from all that nonsense." He said. The voice hissed again, allowing Damon a second chance to determine what exactly it sounded like. A dying balloon, perhaps? "Listen up, boy-" "Oh, I'm listening." Damon interrupted, a little miffed at the way this geezer with asthma or whatever was causing the weird sound was talking to him. He wasn't a teenager pawing for scraps anymore. He couldn't be intimidated by old men solemnly telling him to do things or 'risk the consequences'. In fact, the only thing that could intimidate him was currently sitting in her room, probably either crying herself to sleep or looking for something to pass the time. There was, as he was quickly finding, nothing else that could touch him. All his life, he'd feared that if he passed some threshold they would send Pandora after him. But now that she was no longer a threat, he was happily free from any fears that he might have had when it came to dealing with heroes. And he loved it. "And that's 'your grace' to you." Damon added, feeling suddenly as though some sort of weight had been lifted off of him. There was nothing stopping him or anyone else from going above their usual level of villainy now. He could do what he liked, and no one could tell him not to. 
The man on the other end of the phone hesitated, probably sensing that the game was up and it was only a matter of time before Damon and all the other villains started to push boundaries carefully set in place by one side to restrict the other. "I'm going to give you an option." He said at last, choosing to ignore Damon's words. "Oh, I'm sorry." Damon interrupted again, faking a costumer service voice. "We're full up on options at the moment. If you'd like to call back between the hours of 'never' and 'fuck off', we will happily ignore everything you say and proceed with what we want to do without paying attention to your demands." He grinned. "Listen to me, you pompous shit head-" "I'm pompous, am I?" Damon cut in yet again, deciding silently that he wasn't going to let this man get a single coherent sentence out. "That's rich, coming from someone who exploits their heroes and refuses to even let one kill herself when she feels doing so is the only way out for her." He said, examining his nails with a smirk. There was a long, heavy pause, as though the person on the other end of the phone was shell-shocked or something. "There's a storm coming for you, young man." He said at last, just as Damon was beginning to settle in to the quite. "Well, I sure hope so." Damon laughed. "It's been rather dry around here recently, and my people's farmlands could use the rain." He added. The man huffed angrily, followed by a 'click' as the phone on the other end was slammed into its cradle with enough force that it would be a wonder if it still worked. 
Damon chuckled heartily, setting his phone back down gently. This was shaping up to be something that might bring some tourism into his area for the first time in a long time. Of course, that wasn't something he particularly cared about. There were plenty of people in his cities who loved it here and managed to run things excellently and enjoy the extensive rewards Damon was willing to give them for doing so. But if people started marching into what they thought was a deadland with signs demanding Pandora's release held high, only to find a bustling city of beautiful houses, cobbled streets, cars, romantic-looking farms, and all the other hallmarks of a well established society tucked away from the poison of the rest of the world, Damon was certain that their reactions would be no end of amusement for him. After all, people generally thought of his domain as a poor village or two run by a man who was far too young to have been handed the power Damon possessed. But if this was really going to be a thing that people protested over, then they were going to get a nasty little shock when they realized that Damon's realm was one of the wealthier ones, mainly because it wasn't recognized by the 'heroes' on the other side and raided mercilessly in the name of good. 
Damon leaned back in his chair, pondering what was likely to happen in the upcoming days. Of course, he would have to give his guards a good amount of time off so they could protect their families, and allow his servants the same amount of time to visit their own households and arrange for what was sure to be a hail storm of heroes and people who supported them marching into the cities. He would also need to make a decree of some sort to warn his people of the possibility that they would need to go underground for a bit, and put in a request to the king for an army to protect the major city within Damon's duchy. Of course, it would have been lovely if he could also cover the two smaller cities, and the twelve or so villages. But he knew that would be an impossibility. It was best if he simply had the bunkers beneath the major city prepared and stocked, just in case push came to shove and people needed a place to flee. He would want to limit the number of casualties on his side, while also making sure that as many heroes died as he was capable of killing. It was time for him to stop playing, and send a message that he wasn't just going to stand by and watch the generations of people he had grown up around be wiped out by a wave of self-righteous pricks. His subjects were his friends, his family, the ones he owed everything to. They had always been there to support him when he was fighting to claim the throne that had been tossed to the side by the family that had once ruled here in favor of joining the heroes who had corrupted their minds. These people had always loved and encouraged him when he was trying to gain control of the lands he'd been raised in, and looked up to and respected him as their ruler. He figured it was about time he repaid them for their appreciation and loyalty.  
Damon stood and moved to the window, looking out across the garden to the edge of the woods that blocked him off from the city. A grin crept across his face as he thought of the destruction that would quickly be coming his way. This was going to be fun. He knew he shouldn't have been this happy when there was the chance that a lot of people could get hurt, but he was anyway. He loved the chaos that came with capturing heroes. And if the fact that he'd already received one threatening call was anything to go off of, this particular type of chaos was going to be one that he could fully revel in for as long as he liked. It was going to be absolutely splendid.