Rustling of leaves hit my ears, as I attempted, in vain, to pinpoint the origin of the sound. The ever golden hue of the sour apples hanging just out of my reach was tantalizing. Nevertheless, I knew I was going to become toast if I did not win this time. That, or father's blood pressure would skyrocket.

"You know, preparing me to take down the 'heroic' Invincibles would be much easier if we had a pet, like a jaguar! Or oh, oh! A cobra!"

"Aleksandr! Concentrate!" the very stiff, commanding voice of my father, Pyotr rang out.

Shivers accosted my body and I tried to valiantly fight off the goosebumps with a bit of monkeying around.

"Of course, dad. I am so full of concentration, I embody it! In fact, I am so focused on my task, God himself could only congratulate me by giving me the superpower of persuasion. So about that jaguar-"

I did not get to finish my 'get me a deadly pet' argument, because I was suddenly acquainted with the muddy earth. I swore then and there that I was going to have a vendetta against gravity.

My father, the guy who made sure I fell in the first place, was leaning against a tree, a disapproving frown on his face. I was struck by the unnerving urge to be pedantic.

"You know, you could have easily said no. You didn't have to attack me," I teased.

My dad snorted and said, "If I brought you a pet, Aleksandr, there would be virtually no difference between the two of you."

What was that supposed to mean?

"I could think of a few. Like our number of chromosomes, our features, the fact that the snake doesn't have half your DNA. Wait…are you calling yourself an animal?" I asked, lips twitching up.

"Of course not, you noisome little child."

"I'm fifteen..." I protested weakly.

"You should stop thinking about the differences between you and a pet and to concentrate on the similarities. For example, both you and a jaguar would eat a lot and sleep a lot. However, I doubt it would complain as much as you do, son."

"Dad, you're hilarious. You missed your calling…" I said while trying to get the mud out of my face.

I gazed at the dense forest-like base we were at, with succulent red berries, shiny black grapes and mouthwatering watermelons. If training would involve eating fruits faster than the speed of light I would excel.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

A soft, silky material brushed my arm, creating tingles. It was dad's handkerchief.

"Get the mud off your face properly, Aleksandr," he whispered.

"Thanks," I mumbled.

My father and I were part of a secret organization so mysterious, nobody had heard of it. I didn't hear of it either, until yesterday when the harsh training regime started. Dad was not like other dads, and I'm saying this in the kindest way possible, he was a supervillain. Back in the glory days, he used to steal precious artifacts, rob banks, all the crazy stuff. Here's the catch, he was never caught. They called him, "The Traceless Man", a lame name I used only once on my father, to see his reaction. Now. The name held no importance to him. He was much more concerned with taking down a totalitarian bunch of ex-superheroes.

Stinging needles pricked my skin as I stepped on thorns, ruby blood flowing from the superficial wound. I winced and hurried along with my father to the meeting point, at the heart of the base. His steel-gray eyes which I inherited, locked on mine, widening in concern. I shot him a grin to dispel his worries, knowing he was probably beating himself up for making me fall during training.

As we reached our location, my legs became heavier and heavier. I carried on, almost like I was knee-deep in the purest snow. An apparatus scanned our retinas and fingerprints. It was a system my father and I had developed, but hey, at least it did not require hair samples. I was wrought to part with my shining ebony hair.

"Welcome, Master Fyodorov and son," the robotic voice of our A.I., Nancy, ranged out.

"Hi Nance," I waved.

"Let us hurry son. The meeting will commence soon," my father said as we entered a long corridor with twists and turns that lead to a couple of bookcases. Reaching the secret meeting was easy, one just had to pluck the red book among hundreds of pink, green, blue and yellow books. It was usually situated right in front of one's eyes, hiding in plain sight. Unfortunately finding it didn't work so well if you were color blind.

Dad grabbed the book and suddenly a wall started to move. We entered into a room full of cobwebs, simplistic with wooden chairs and feeble, tasteless decorations. The low-ranked bozos will no doubt complain.

"Son, these men that agreed to meet me are dangerous-" Dad said but I cut him up.

"Psychopathic mercenaries with wizard-like powers and evil, insane scientists who can fly? I think I gathered that, dad…"

"Aleksandr!" he hissed then sighed.

"Do not interrupt, child. Please, please. I know it's not how you usually do things but listen to daddy. During the gathering, you will show respect and not talk with anyone unless they talked to you first. No insults, no sarcasm, not even light joshing. Understand?" he asked, one eye twitching nervously.

"Understood," I muttered.

He was no fun.

I suddenly found myself enveloped in a sweet embrace, as my father's lithe form surrounded me. I enjoyed the brisk moment, which was too soon interrupted by my father's hushed voice "I'll hold you to that, little one."

I guessed he was scared, no, mortified. All sorts of villains were to grace us with their presence. From ineffectual ones to powerful rivals and allies back from when father was still young. In the criminal world, you rarely had friends, only enemies, rivals, or allies. I wanted to break that tradition, that visceral dogma that spawned lies, suspicion, and paranoia.

I was hoping to achieve that by talking to one of the supervillains' kids this evening. If, of course, their parents hadn't forbidden them to talk to me.