"After the Ambush"

The League of Evil said I miss you,
The Guild of Demons tried to call,
Dr. Hatred told me I was the one that had influenced them all
But I would not return a message,
Still they couldn't take a hint.
No more planning, no conniving,
I said I'm done with all of this...

—Kirby Krackle, “Villain Song” 

             “Michael, please.” The man wouldn’t meet Hatred’s eyes. His orange jumpsuit made him look jaundiced; his skin drooped on his frame. Michael’s gaze burned into the hollow of Hatred’s throat. Hatred’s eyes fell onto Michael’s own neck, where a power neutralizer pulsed orange against the buzzing fluorescent lights. Hatred gestured for the attention of the guards. “Get that off of him. It’s not necessary.”

             “Standard procedure, ma’am. We can’t.” Hatred sighed. She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Michael?” His eyes tracked up, and glanced over her face. She leaned forward. “It’ll be alright. You have enough friends in here—” Michael’s eyes snapped onto her. She jolted slightly at the bloodshot sclera. There were new shadows under his eyes.

             “Do I have any friends out there?” he said.

             “Michael, it was the only way I could—”

             “It took all of you to take me down,” he said more loudly. Behind him, the guards’ hands tightened on their stun batons. “All of you, and him. Remember that. When I get out—when I get out—you won’t have his help, will you?” Michael stood up. The guards on both sides of the glass stiffened, but he turned toward the door that led back to the cells. “See you later, Mayor Hatred.”

<< First     < Previous     Next >