The world rolled by quietly, the noise of the streets blocked out by the walls of the car. Damon wasn't used to gliding through Carpture without being able to hear the sounds of church bells or the hustle and bustle of people walking the streets and going about their everyday lives, which made the almost complete silence all the more disconcerting. He usually drove through these exact streets with the top down on his convertible, enjoying the fresh air and the sounds of people talking and laughing around him. He liked to watch the city he had built, and to hear and feel the sensations that were so prevalent in it. But the tinted windows and heavy calm within the car didn't even come close to allowing this. Instead, it put a dark lense over the world, completely washing the color out of it.
Damon was brought out of his thoughts with a gentle nudge, and looked down to see Pandora pressing herself up against him with a wary look. Damon followed her gaze, carefully pulling her closer as he realized just what it was she was so worried about. Across the car, settled on the seat next to Glevthop, was a large black metal box with more clamps and latches than seemed necessary. Glevthop was resting one hand on it, tapping his fingers against the lid and staring directly at Damon and Pandora with an unreadable expression. Damon shuddered, already knowing what was in the box without even having to ask. It was one of the many high-tech, agony-inducing weapons that the king and his father had both spent most of their lives designing. It was the type of thing used against heroes when active battles broke out, after it was determined that normal weaponry wasn't enough. Damon and every other villain worth their salt had some version of one of the weaker weapons, which was always kept in a vault or a safe or some other sort of hidden stronghold that couldn't be broken into. They were generally considered to be for emergency use only, since bringing them out into the open meant that any hero who could manage to steal it would be able to get away with some of the most valuable equipment anyone on Damon's side could have. Damon personally knew people who had either been killed or brutally tortured for their versions of the things, although thankfully they had never given them up. Pandora herself had been on a mission for the past three years to procure one of the gadgets, although she hadn't succeeded. And that was just the smaller, less valuable, watered down weaponry. The really dangerous stuff belonged to the king, and the king alone. Sometimes, if a certain situation was deemed to be really dangerous, the weapons would be lent out to the strongest and most trusted of the king's guards, or his personal friends and henchmen. But that was only in the most dire of circumstances, since the risk of heroes getting their grubby hands on the only things that were keeping the playing field anywhere close to level was too high to justify anything more. The fact that something with so much power was sitting in the same car as Damon and was very clearly intended to be used should he or his lover try anything was almost physically disturbing. These were the weapons that kept him and his friends safe from the 'prophecy' heroes who for some reason held more power than any others. These were the same weapons Damon had trusted his life to. And now, one was sitting only feet away from him in the hands of someone he wasn't anywhere close to putting his faith in, ready to be withdrawn from its crate and put into action the second either Damon or Pandora made any move Glevthop might deem as threatening.
Damon shook his head to himself, letting out a little sigh and looking down to avoid Glecthop's silent scrutiny. He was starting to believe this had been a mistake, in more ways than just the one he had determined it was before. He was being treated like a criminal now, just because of what Pandora had done in the past. He supposed it was deserved, considering he was acting like one and he was very obviously armed. But it still made his lip curl to think that he had gone from being lovably evil and perfectly insane, to wishing for nothing more than the safety and happiness of his lover. It was as though he had completely flipped to being an entirely different person in the span of a few hours, and he wasn't entirely sure he was enjoying it. More than anything, he wanted his carefree, happy-go-lucky nature back. He wanted to return to taunting heroes with backhanded compliments, and stirring them up into a fuss that was both adorable and exploitable. He wanted to go back to what he had always thought of as normality. Of course, he adored Pandora, and his love for her was an impenetrable chain that bond the two of them together. But the startling change in his desires and his amusements was disconcerting, to say the least.
Damon locked his eyes on the crate as the world started to roll into a blur, the car picking up speed as it got to the roads leading out of the city and turned down a busy highway where the lunch traffic was just starting to break up. The cobbled streets faded into asphalt and pavement, bordered by trees and flower beds to discourage people from driving off into the ravines that dropped away parodically on either side of the road.
The highway went through a mountain, making the drive a lot harder for the absurdly shaped car. But with quickly thinning traffic and the afternoon sun conveniently dipping behind clouds when the trees and flower gardens failed to stop it from reflecting off the shiny cars and the hot road, things were moving quickly and easily enough. Despite the smooth drive, however, Damon's insides were churning like a storm-tossed sea. Thoughts of just how painful the king's weaponry was rumored to be flashed through his mind, mixing with the terrifying knowledge that he would be able to do nothing if Glevthop decided to kill Pandora. I could only be a human shield for her once, and he wasn't even sure she would allow that. She had made it clear many times that she did not want him to get hurt, which meant that in all probability she would just take the bullet specifically designed to destroy her from the inside out and push Damon out of the way enough that he couldn't save her. And that meant that he would see her die, without being able to help at all. He knew she would be strong enough to keep him from interfering with her death, even if her strength was cut down to a fraction of what it was now. And he was terrified at the thought that he wouldn't be able to do anything to stop her. If things really got bad, there was nothing left for either Damon or Pandora to do except cover each other and hope the other could make it out alive.
Pandora tugged on his shirt, signaling to him to look out the window. Damon reluctantly pulled his eyes away from the metal crate, turning to see what Pandora was gesturing to. Somehow, through sinking into his thoughts and not paying attention enough to notice how much time had passed, Damon had missed most of the drive and only now saw that they were coming up on the gates of the castle. The car rolled to a stop at the little box that the gatekeeper sat in, but quickly started slinking forward like a long black cat as soon as the chauffeur pulled out some form of documentation that the gatekeeper spent a few seconds checking over. The gates swung open as the car rolled forward and slowly made its way into the driveway spanning nearly the entire length of the castle, then quickly slammed shut again with a loud clang that echoed in Damon's ears and reminded him uncomfortably of how the doors to a prison cell sounded when they were angrily thrown shut.
YOU ARE READING
Morals of a Villain
General Fiction(Completed) Damon, a Duke by right, has never particularly liked the morally righteous narcissists he frequently has to deal with in everyday life. While others might see them as heroes courageously pitting themselves against the horrible and sadist...
