Villainous Us

Obligations

Iron Crisis

My apartment lay somewhere between the rich and the poor sides of the city. Through one window, I could see plumes of smoke rising into the sky and an orange glow hovering over low buildings. Through the other I could see towering skyscrapers glistening in the distance, untouched by villainous destruction.

You see, the rich could afford to buy protection from the heroes, but the poor people were doomed from the start.

I lived in a middle class neighborhood, but most of my neighbors had fled under the fear that villains would tire of the "War Zone" and spread here. Only a few of the stubborn and stupid ones stayed.

However, that made my life much easier. There weren't as many eyes around to see Iron Crisis entering his apartment building.

I exchanged my jet black super suit for a mint green dress shirt and a nice pair of dark jeans. Then, after rolling my sleeves up to just below my elbows, I moved to the bathroom.

Once standing in front of the mirror, I began to disassemble myself. First, I pulled of my mask and set it next to the sink. Then I took out my contacts.

As Iron Crisis, my eyes were a vibrant forest green, but as plain old me, they were blue with faint brown tendrils branching out from the center.

Next, I ran my hands under the faucet and rubbed away the black makeup around my eyes. No, I'm not goth or anything, I just like to paint the skin around my eyes so there's less of a chance of being recognized through the mask. I wiped away the rest of the smeared residue with a nearby towel.

Blinking at my fuzzy reflection in the mirror, I reached for my glasses. God, I hated those things. They made me look like a total pushover. The only bright side was the glasses made me look even less like an Iron Crisis candidate. I did have normal contacts around here somewhere, but mother had always disapproved of them, so glasses it was for tonight.

Last up was my hair. With a fine tooth comb and a jar of product, I was able to complete my transformation into the rich snob my parents had tried to mold me into as a child.

In truth, my reflection made me want to throw up. I looked so utterly sane it was disgusting. Though I admit I'm not a bad looking guy, dressing up like this always filled my stomach with dread.

Shaking it off, I moved around my apartment and shoved my Iron Crisis items into a backpack. I even threw in my spare handgun. One never knew when there would be an opportunity to suit up.

As an extra precaution, I stacked some college type items on top. I didn't put it past my family to snoop.

Feeling as ready as I'd ever be, I whipped out my phone and called a cab. Ten minutes later, it was waiting on the curb.

"Where to, sir?" the cabbie asked me without even turning around.

"The Hale residence, if you would."

The man raised a brow at me in the rearview mirror. I gave him a pointed look and he reluctantly put the car in gear.

"What business do you have with the Hales, might I ask?"

"Nothing pleasant, I assure you."

Thankfully, the cabbie took that as his hint to shut up. I knew for a fact that if he had turned around and got a good look at me, he'd know exactly who I was. I've been in several magazines actually. Headlines varied from 'Psychotic Son' to 'Troubled Teen."

All of my actions reflected poorly on my billionaire father. He tried to cover most of my issues up, but some stuff always leaked through.

I stared out the window as rows of houses passed by. I really wanted to smash some windows right now, but I refrained.