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The Villain

Henry Miles: The Purple Bandit

The tales of my purple mask blow in the wind as I look over the city. I tighten my running shoes, my purple cape draping on the ground. I then survey the crowd below through purple binoculars for anyone who looks to have valuables.

I smirk as I watch a woman with a large purse walking along. "Perfect..." I say.

I dive off the roof, spreading my arms to slow my descent as I plummet five stories to the ground, my cape billowing behind me.

Several feet before impact and my eminent doom, I swing my right arm, and a duplicate of me appears in midair, itself having far less momentum than I currently do. About to impact, I eye the clone, and- suddenly, my mind is in the clone.

I am the clone; my mind has fully transferred. My first body crashes into the pavement, blood splattering and bones crunching as I walk away from it. As the people around turn in fear and disgust at the sight of my crushed body, I snap my fingers, the corpse disappearing. I go into a sprint.

The people around me aren't sure what to do as I move through them. I grab the purse of the old lady and take off running.

"Thief!" The woman yells. "Help!"

"It's the Purple Bandit!" someone yells.

"Get him! There's a reward!" another yells.

"He's just a boy. Be careful!" a concerned young woman yells as I commit a crime right in front of her.

Men and women around me try to grab at me, but it's hopeless. I duck under several extended hands as I maneuver to an overhanging fire escape. It's some eight feet up, but I jump for it anyway, extending my right arm.

Three feet above me, another copy of me appears in the air, barely making up the distance and grabbing the bottom of the platform. I transfer to that clone, quickly snapping away the last body again. I'm too heavy to pull myself up to the platform with just my fingers, but no matter, I'm close enough.

I look up, and yet another copy of me appears on the above platform. It dashes over to the stairs and starts to climb.

All eyes turn to the copy, and everyone assumes that I transferred to it instead of staying in the body that has just crashed to the ground.

They're all wrong, though. When I hit the ground, it's obvious to see and feel why they assumed I would body swap again. Everyone looks away from me, following "the action" as my clone retreats up the fire escape.

A man dressed in a black coat and jeans drops down the fire escape, holding some kind of silver scarf to break his fall and hook onto the floor just above my clone. "Stop right there!" he yells at the clone.

On the ground, I smirk. Even Pro Heroes have a hard time keeping up with my quirk. I get up and sprint away, gulping down the pain from my earlier fall, leaving all the knuckleheads in the dust as I tear down an alleyway.

I see a door in the alley and run over to it, trying to open it.

Dang it! Locked!

I snap my fingers on my left hand again. Making my clone disappear will give away my game, but I have no choice. I can only make one clone at a time and need my quirk to escape the alleyway.

I quickly peer under the locked door into the room past it. It looks like some kind of restaurant kitchen. Well, it's better than staying out here, right?

I swing my right arm, and a clone of me appears inside that kitchen. I transfer my mind to the clone, leaving my current body in the alleyway.

I hear the pro hero in the alleyway as I move deeper into the kitchen.

"Hey! Give up, Bandit! " he yells, but of course, he's talking to a puppet, not the master—I'm already in the building.

I stay low and hook around one of the counters as the door I just bypassed suddenly crashes open. "I suppose you think you're clever?" Asks the hero as he walks in, stretching to oversee the entire place. "Your tricks won't work on me forever, kid. Why don't you just give up?" He jumps on top of one of the counters, peering down the sides of it, "I have a soft spot for little kids; c'mon, we'll work out a deal. I don't offer that to everyone, ya know."

I move my right arm, and a clone of me takes off down the side of the next series of counters. The hero hears him and jumps to the top of the counters I'm hiding behind. I know he has to pick a target, and I also get up and take off deeper into the restaurant.

I move fast, but not fast enough, as that silver scarf suddenly surrounds me. I'm quickly trapped in it, arms pulled down to my sides when the hero yanks me back. "Like I said, it's not gonna work forever, kid," he says, slapping handcuffs on me. "Now for your copy."

"Hmm..." I say, grinning. "You think you're the clever one, huh?"

The hero yanks me to him and pulls me within inches of his face, "You're lucky you're a kid. You wanna make me work this hard? I'm tempted to pummel you into the ground- but I wanna sleep tonight." He throws my restrained body to the ground and takes his scarf back, running off in the direction my copy went in.

Just because you hear someone or something moving in a particular direction doesn't mean it actually IS moving in that direction. My clone moves back around to me as the tape recorder he planted on a far-off table continues to play. He runs past me, and I mind-transfer, continuing to run in the new body.

"Damnit!" the man yells behind me. "How many tricks do you pack, you brat?" I run over to a nearby window. I know who this hero is- I have seconds before my escape plan won't work.

I make it within three feet of the store's front window and swing my right arm- nothing happens.

"Forgetting my power?" the hero asks behind me. "My eyes make your power turn off."

"Yeah... I got that..." I turn around seeing him staring at me from across the large room, his eyes glowing red.

"I'll give you this- this is our tenth bout, Bandit." He starts walking towards me, unblinking. "You're good at hit and run. It's too bad you're wasting your potential like this." I quickly run to a nearby table and grab a chair, spinning and hurling it at the hero- who just grabs it out of the air and tosses it aside. "Not gonna work, kid. I'm not closing my eyes."

"You forget one detail."

"Oh?"

"It's not like you tied the first one's legs, right?"

"You have to snap him away, and you can't transfer to him until I take my eyes off you and... he just ran out of the restaurant, didn't he?"

I nod and grin. I offer him my hands. "Go ahead, cuff me again."

He sighs in frustration. "I restrain your right arm. You can't make another clone, but the second I take my eyes off you as I take you in, I have no way of knowing where the hell your copy is- you could jump into him and take off from anywhere within hundreds of feet...' he folds his arms. "Fine... that is clever."

"C'mon- let's play this out. Maybe you'll anticipate my clone, maybe you won't." I keep my hands up to let him cuff me, a smirk on my face.

"You REALLY think I have to play your game at all?" Suddenly, I feel myself pulled off the ground. I'm slammed against the wall, and I have to cough out in shock as I feel the impact. The hero pulls back his right hand, making a fist and aiming right for my face as I raise my hands defensively, knowing this guy could decimate me.

I sent the other me out of the restaurant and into the street. I have no out. I overplayed my hand, and now I'm about to pay the price. I wait for the pain, the beating, the blackness...

It all never comes.

The man sets me down. "Who am I kidding?" He asks. "Am I really gonna beat a kid unconscious over a purse?"

"But if you don't... you know I can escape..."

"And I don't know how to restrain the second phase of whatever your quirk is. You'll eventually body swap to wherever your clone is. Yes, I'm aware."

"You're just gonna let me go?" I ask, looking at the hero.

The hero growls. "Listen to me, Purple. You aren't beating heroes out here; you're taking advantage of people who care about you."

I look at the ground as he says that, my heart feeling like it's in my stomach.

"Something tells me you aren't that kind of person... c'mon kid. Tell me what's wrong. I want to help you. I really do. Risking your life and going up against pro heroes for... purses, jewels, and a few fancy clothes every now and then? Most of the stuff you take you can't even use."

I can't look him in the eyes as he says what we both know is true.

"You can't use that stuff. I doubt you know how to hawk it at your age, and someone has to take care of you, so that leaves... someone is using you."

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

I step back, looking around at the ground. I don't want to explain. I don't want to tell him. I know by just being around him, he's figuring things out. Not now, not him. Why does it have to be him? I know he's brilliant. I know he'll figure out what's going on in time.

"Kid, tell me. What's happening?" The hostility is gone from his voice. He's honestly concerned. His eyes return to a normal color as he tries to extend his trust to win me over.

I know what I must do... but I don't want to.

Hearing his voice, I remember being seven years old. I remember seeing his shadowy figure in the papers for the first time. I remember the silver scarf that captured my imagination. I remember his gruff voice from the few times he gave interviews to the papers. I remember... all the dreams of a little boy who wanted to follow his idol's steps.

Finally, I look up at him. "Eraserhead... I'm sorry..."

"Stop apologizing. If you mean it, then-"

But I don't hear the rest. I see my clone hundreds of feet away and a few stories up in some random building. It's just visible through the restaurant's front windows. I transfer my mind to my clone and just run.

I retreat, eyes filling with tears, feeling the dreams of what I really wanted to be still dying, no matter how much I want to rescue them. In the back of my mind, I know it. I'll never be a hero like I wanted.

I live in a city of heroes, but my monsters have done the impossible. They've made damn sure- no one can save me.

The Hostage

Tori Miles: The Good for Nothing

"I promise to pay—listen to me!" the old man pleads. "Please, just let him go, let my son go."

The man in the suit looks around the small shop. He sees fresh fruit and fish here and there, along with a small pet store in the corner.

Amid the shop, a young man stands between two gentlemen dressed in black uniforms, each holding metal batons. The young man is backed up to the wall, and one of the men takes aim with his baton to bury the teenager's head into the wall behind him.

"Please, just a few more days!" The old man, dressed in a typical shopkeeper's uniform, said.

I watch. I know I'm the one who brought this on them... I have to do something. I have to say something. "Daddy, maybe... maybe we can just take the value of the money from the store."

The large man in the suit looks down at me, eyes cold, but his head cocks slightly to the side as he speaks slowly. "It would be... prudent to keep a source of money if we can. But we must make a statement. I do not offer these people my protection for nothing."

I look over at the pets. My eyes travel over them and the prices for each. I see one that costs over a thousand dollars. "They owe us five hundred," I say. I point my finger at the expensive puppy. "So we'll take her. Just the resale value should easily cover the cost."

The man turns and looks at the puppy as if to consider. "I sense you could have ulterior motives here, my child." A smile creeps across his face. "But you're not wrong." He snaps his fingers at one of his men. "Take the black one on the bottom. It's a rare mastiff. It will turn a pretty penny. Then take the one in the middle; it's a corso and a good guard breed. Finally, take... yes, that one in the corner left. A beagle will be a good companion for my little girl."

One of the thugs moves away from the boy and secures the three puppies in a small burlap sack. The young dogs seem happy to be held for a short time, blissfully unaware of who holds them.

In minutes, the two thugs and I, and my father, are back in the car. The thugs move to the front as my father sits with me.

"I know what you were trying to do out there, Tori," He says as he situates beside me. "And I appreciate it in my own way." He looks up to the gentlemen in the front. "You two secured proper supplies for our new investments, I suppose? May we see the beagle?"

The beagle is handed back to us in a small carrying cage. I look at him, eager and happy, believing his best days are ahead of him with me and his new family. If the dog only knew, he would be planning his escape this instant, but how could he know? "We paid for some of the supplies. We're not looking to bankrupt our customers, only to make a point," My father explains. "And you were right, of course. We get more money from living people than dead ones. Though I suppose your actions were based more on your weak heart than weighing consequences."

I look away from him, trying to hide the tears. He turns my head by holding my chin. "Oh my sweetheart, don't be like that," he says, wiping a few tears. You have a new friend here," he says, quietly letting the puppy out of its carrying case. The small creature jumps on me and starts licking my face, making me laugh as the car lurches into motion.

"Stop, stop... stahahahahaahpppp..." I push out through, laughing and struggling for dominance over the small, friendly creature.

"See? Life isn't so bad, now is it?" my father asks. He leans his chin on his fist. "Still, we have some work to do. You told me this last man was behind on his bills to the company. What is the next thing you've discovered,"

"I hihihihi—stop it, you." I'm finally able to wrestle the creature under an arm and pet its head. "We have a request to track down stolen property from the jeweler downtown."

"Head there now, driver," my father says. "Is he up on his payments, this jeweler?"

"I believe so," I say, getting drawn into the puppy's happiness and giggling a little.

"Good. We will go and gather evidence. Anyone who dares attack my customers should be taught a swift lesson." He straightens his jacket as he says that.

"Hey boss, maybe you should listen to what's on the radio," says the voice of one of the men up front.

We next hear a new broadcaster's announcement: "The young Purple Bandit has evaded capture again. This time, the young menace escaped the grasp of Vlad King himself. We go to the Blood Hero himself for comment."

The Blood Hero speaks. "Don't anybody take this the wrong way. He's a slippery little guy, but what was I supposed to do? Every time I got him pinned, he would switch bodies and I'd be left holding a body that would either disappear or go limp like a puppet that got its cords cut. It's a creepy quirk he's got, but he's still a kid. I'd have to hurt him to get around his quirk. He just stole some jewels, and frankly, I'd rather he get away than have some middle schooler's blood on my hands. He's quick and clever, but he'll be caught eventually. We pros are working on it, though frankly, an underage petty thief isn't a priority."

"Do you have a comment on him abandoning the jewels outside the police station?" The announcer asked.

"Hm? Oh, he did, huh?" asked the hero. "Well, that's a hopeful development. Sounds like he's having second thoughts. He'll still have to pay for his disruptions, but I'll say that Bandit kid is no monster. Honestly, I think he's just a kid in trouble. I or one of the other heroes will get him eventually and put him back on the right track. In the meantime, no one should misinterpret our hesitance to hurt the kid as confirmation that he's harmless. He's still a well-trained individual who is willing to use his quirk dangerously. Do not approach him or try to capture him. Leave this to the authorities."

The radio is switched off. "So what do you think, boss? Yesterday, he got us a nice sum from that old lady, but I don't know about today. It seems your son messed up," the driver said.

"He dropped off the goods with the police, which means they'll be returned; no real harm was done, " the man on the passenger side points out.

"He stole from one of my clients," my father says in a deep growl. "He and others like him are meant to sow distrust in the law, so people turn to me. If I cannot answer chaos and bring order myself, why bother coming to me either?"

"Well, he's your son, and he is a boy. Boys will make mistakes. He did try to undo the damage, " the driver points out.

"I understand that. I will not kill him or do any damage that cannot be undone- as sons do not grow on trees. Still..." My father looked out over the street. "Pull into that alley up there."

My stomach sank. My father put the puppy back in its kennel and stowed it in the back through a small opening in the rear seat. We turned into a small alleyway, and the engine turned off. My father cleared his throat. "Tori," he said.

I close my eyes, my heart thumping like a jackhammer. I'm so scared. My father and I get out of the car and come to the backside.

My father, Charles Miles, stood over me as he took out a small smartphone and called my brother.

I wait with baited breath to see what was about to happen. Charles started the conversation when Henry picked up. "Hello, son. I suppose you know why I'm calling?"

I hear my brother. "Look... I made a mistake, okay? The jewels looked valuable, so I figured we could sell them for a lot. I never knew that guy was a client."

"Henry, Henry, Henry... what should I do with you? You must check the client lists before you start your jobs. You're not supposed to just hit up random stores and civilians. Our family has a business. We're not reliant on your harassment campeigns to bring in money, that's just a bonus. We rely on you and the other beaters to make potential customers see why they need us. Without our protection, they could be robbed, intimidated, or harassed, you see? You're only helping people understand their needs, understand? You're not just a thief. You're... waking people up."

"I mean- that jeweler still feels like he needs protection, I imagine," my brother attempts.

"That jeweler should feel secure. After all, they have our security services. You're undermining us, dear Henry."

"I... I didn't mean to do it, sir..."

My father started talking in precise and clipped words. "You refer to me as "father" or at least "dad" when we are on friendly terms. You only call me "sir" around polite company. It seems you are forgetting your role in this family. You need to be reminded how important it is to remember your position. What happens if you act like this and you're higher in rank? Your misbehaving could cause our communities to devolve into chaos and our employees to go without their needed pay- you don't want that, do you? I thought you dreamed of being heroic."

"Sir... Father... I'm sorry."

"I must do what I must do, Henry. You stole fifty thousand American dollars worth of jewelry."

"I dropped it off with the police, and the jewelers got it back—all's well that ends well, right?"

"I'm afraid not. However, you're right. Your punishment should fit your crime." Charles started to put black gloves on his hands. "Nothing was lost forever. There was only pain and worry so that you will experience that."

"Look... I'll come down there, you can just-"

"Just what?" Charles interrupts. "Break one of your ankles? You can just body-switch and fix that. Besides, I'll lose your services in the interim. No, I think we both know what must be done."

"Please..." I can hear my brother beg.

I look up at Charles as the back of his hand comes at me- my vision goes black for a few seconds, and I hit the pavement. "I'm sorry, Tori," says my father, "but your brother has to learn."

I look and see as he forces my foot near the wheel of the car. My head is too stunned by the hit for me to move. I can only watch as he orders his men to turn on the car- then I scream as the car backs up, my bones breaking- I can hear my brother begging and crying for Charles to stop.

I mercifully go unconscious.

The Victim

Haturo: The Lab Rat

I feel the hard metal floor beneath my feet, my hands on the cage wires. I want to leave this place badly, but my cage door is padlocked.

I look at the room before me. Dead in front of me is a padded examination table with leather restraints. Off to my left is an X-ray machine that displays images of my skeleton. Ahead of the table is a series of vials of different and often dangerous chemicals. To my right is a hall that leads to the rest of the facility.

My thoughts go into a loop: 'No- no, I got out. I got out! My heroes were around me. It wasn't a dream. It wasn't a dream... I got out! I got out!'

I hear footsteps as someone approaches the cage. I slam my back against the back of the cage as the blonde woman comes into view. She's holding that tranq gun that always knocks me out, so I can't fight her. She aims at me, and I scream-

Suddenly, I feel myself being picked up. I'm being held gently and patted on the back as I cry and scream.

My eyes open, and- I'm instantly relieved. I'm in my father's arms. He shushes me and hugs me as I wrap my arms around him in my dark bedroom. He switches on a light and walks back and forth in the room a few times till I settle down. He slowly lays me back on my bed and pulls the covers over me. He smiles at me and pets my hair a few times.

I want to smile at him, but I don't. I want to be happy, but I'm not. My life is better, but I can't feel it. I cry into my pillow. I hear him walk out of the room. In a few moments, I listen to him outside.

"Sakura? Yeah, it's Aizawa again... yeah, I know it's late, but her subconscious is at it again. She keeps missing out on sleep. It's interfering with her schoolwork; she's always tired, and it's rare just to see her smile... you keep saying that isolation is hurting her, but there are people- bad people who are after her. I can't just put her in a normal elementary school or social club... so she can't progress until I figure something out... I guess that makes sense... Well, I have an idea. It's not ideal, but it will be something."

He comes back into the room and puts his hand on my head. "Haturo," he sighs and hangs up the phone. "Hang in there, kid. I promised I wouldn't give up on you, and I won't." I wipe my nose on my sleeve and look into his eyes. I want to feel better so badly. "In the morning, we're gonna try something and see if it helps." He puts his hand near mine, and I squeeze it, "I'm gonna need you to trust me, kid. What I have in mind won't be easy, but it might help."