Heroic Acts

Seventeen

Z made his way down the long corridor of the plant, sighing and rubbing his temples. He needed a drink. He entered what had been made up to be a makeshift office, grabbing a glass and pouring himself some booze. He chugged it, letting the glorious burn slither down his throat and setting the empty glass down on the table.

"This is risky," he mumbled to himself. "Sure, we can profit off of this "super hero" guy, or whoever the hell he thinks he is, but what if..

"What if he could win? What if he could beat my villain? It would be all over for him, for us, for me, and everything I've worked for incognito. He'll destroy everything. And why is he so damn tough? I've gotten rid of presidents, kings, queens, large military groups.. and I'm struggling with a man who's barely into adulthood! Of course, he's afraid of me, but how long will that last? What if he gets bold? What's his next move, and what does that mean for us? Damn it!" He sighed and poured himself another glass.

"Drinking again, boss?" Seth asked, his speech a tad abnormal.

"You're one to talk. Hungover again, my boy?" Z laughed and patted him on the back.

"Rough night," Seth grumbled. He shuffled his way over to a chair and took a seat.

"I'll assume you haven't started working on finding that boy's identity yet, hm?" Z asked.

"No sir, not yet, but that's why I'm here now," Seth said.

"Good," Z grinned and took another sip.

"May I ask why you need his identity?"

"It'll be more fun for you to kill him that way."

"Pardon?"

"Think about it. Humiliate him in front of everyone in the world. You know those stupid news teams broadcast all this shit. It's like pulling a man's pants down in front of a crowd. And then you'll kill him. You'll prove how weak he really is."

"Sir, I've never actually killed anyone though, that's not what I-"

"You'll do fine, boy! Don't be nervous! You'll gain the capability in time. Now, can I help you find this man or what?" Z asked. Seth hesitated for a moment, trying to process his task.

"Henchmen," he said. "8 of them."

***
It was one of those breezy mornings. The sun felt great, the day was beautiful, and it was the perfect condition to lay out under the rays. Birds were singing, butterflies were dancing in the winds, and Andy's soft humming to a tune played endlessly. Darien kicked his legs back and forth, sitting on a bench on campus. He smiled to himself, soaking up the morning.

"Did Seth end up okay?" Andy asked him.

"He woke up and left before me," Darien said. "I'm assuming he's doing alright if he's already up and around."

"I guess that's a good sign," Andy said and looked at the ground. He didn't continue humming his tune and twiddled his thumbs. Something was on his mind, and it was bothering him.

"What's wrong, Andy?"

Andy looked over at Darien with a bit of guilt in his eyes. He tried to brush it off with a simple, "it's nothing," but Darien was persistent, and he knew he wasn't going to give it up. He sighed and looked back at the ground again.

"I don't know how to tell you this, Darien. I don't want to hurt your feelings," he admitted.

"What is it?" Darien asked a second time, growing nervous and worried.

"It's nothing really against you, I just," he began. "Ugh, I really don't like your roommate."

"Not like Seth? Why?"