The Undoing Of Villains | ✓

eleven

(a/n: dedicated to CertifiedBookNerd for telling me you reached the goal and hyping me! lots of love to you<3 hope you enjoy!)

eleven

GENERALLY, I BELIEVED leverage to be quiet, and compliant. Brann was not. He was inquisitive, and annoying, wishing I had been a tad more intimidating when first speaking to him. Instead, he had employed his best puppy-dog expression and fired question after question to me. I debated turning on his tracker again just so his master could come back to fetch him. 

Is this how daycare teachers feel? 

Granted, I did not have a lot of experience with 15 year olds, nevertheless 15 year old kids who enjoyed being superhero sidekicks on their downtime. 

"Do you even go to school?" I asked at last, breaking his barrage of inquisitio. I raised a brow toward Brann. He was lounging on my sofa, flipping through a sports magazine I'd unearthed from one of my moving boxes. 

His eyes left the page as he nodded: "Yeah, but I'm graduating next year so I don't have that many classes left."

My eyes nearly bugged out of my head, "High school?" 

Brann flipped a page, "Yeah. Didn't you end early?"

I fought the urge to scoff. Smartass. Instead of answering him, I glanced to the clock. Nighttime was quickly approaching. I'd shut myself in with the little Brann all day, but keeping him here had actually not been that much of a problem. 

Once he realized I wasn't 'villainous scum which needed binding with judicial shackles' (or however he fancied expressing himself.) he was content to munch the rest of my granola bars, and flip through a stack of the aforementioned sports magazines. 

I didn't bother badgering him with questions regarding his name or how he'd gotten into the 'judicial-shackle binding', which may have been a reason why he chose to badger me instead. I hadn't answered anything, of course, and taken the precaution of staying in the living room with him. I had no idea how to handle a prisoner, a prisoner who was only 15. 

The whole scenario struck me as a divorcee couple with recently negotiated child custody. I felt like the mother, in charge of delivering the child for the weekend with his father. That thought was stranger than the fact that Vector's sidekick lounged around in my living room for an entire day. 

As night struck (according to my phone, at least. The blinds were drawn for good reason), I rose from my perch on one of my barstools and told him we were due to be on our way. 

"Neat. Could I borrow this?" He waved one of the sports magazines in the air, and I snatched it from him. He frowned. 

"Sorry, kid. Start a subscription if you'd like, but that's staying with me." I turned away, but caught a glimpse of him sticking his tongue out. 

Maybe I'm doing Vector a favor, rather than antagonising him? 

It didn't matter anymore. 

"So, how are we getting there? Bus? Teleportation? Fly-" Brann didn't have any more time to answer questions, as I crossed the room to press the trigger-spot on his neck. His head lolled to the side, limp. I felt the slightest sting of remorse at making him unconscious yet again, but I certainly couldn't afford him being clued in on the whereabouts of my apartment.