"Hey," Stanley finally spoke up after driving for a while, "shouldn't we have t-t-taken that woman to a h-hospital?"

"She's in my infirmary now," Ben said, shifting into seventh gear as he hit an open part of the highway. "She'll be healed by the time we return."

"What's going on? Like really?"

"You know how you were talking about being a villain? I'm going to show you what it means to be a villain, and then we're going to never speak of this again."

"So, where are we going?"

"There was a note in Sue's mouth with the address of a warehouse in north Darl. That's where the person who fucked up Sue is going to be."

"C-c-could it be a t-t-trap?"

"No," Ben stated with certainty.

"How do you know?"

"If they were going to lay a trap, it would've been on Sue."

Stanley sat in the passenger side seat while nervously tapping his foot on the rubber floor mat.

Ben pulled off the highway and onto an industrial road with heavy construction on all sides. It was silent due to it being close to midnight, but Stanley swore he could see something curling in the shadows.

"It's your imagination," Ben pre-empted.

"How do you know?"

"Because my sight can see everything around us, and there's nothing there. But your eyes are darting around as if you're tracking something. It's an illusion mixing darkness and light, making it seem like there's movement. There's nothing there."

Stanley just stared ahead as the road became noticeably less smooth. The even pavement gave way to coarse gravel as they entered the abandoned steel mills that used to be Darl's primary revenue source before a tornado dumped toxic chemicals into the waterways. The spill was so bad, they had to jam a dam down the river, stopping the flow so the chemicals remained in the water, ruining the trade and manufacturing at once.

Ben drove up through the abandoned complex where rusted iron made ancient walkways over their heads as they drover deeper into an old, groaning facility.

Without warning, Ben turned the car so that it swung all the way around, facing the opposite direction as he backed up the last few feet to a wall of sheet metal.

"Follow me," he told the kid he was fostering, "but stay close."

Ben got out while turning the car off, the engine sputtering to a stop as the lights died, giving Stanley the visibility of a mole.

"BEN!" he hissed in a whisper, only for a handle to startle the boy. "Fine, I guess I'll guide you."

Stanley felt a hand on his back pushing him forward, his feet stumbling over the rocky, uneven surface without the grip to resist.

The darkness drew all shapes and sizes in his mind, until they rounded some sort of corner and saw a single warehouse with light bleeding through the windows. They were heading for a small crack of light that barely showed the surrounding door frame, which Ben unceremoniously jarred open with a loud, scraping noise.

"WHO THE FUCK GOES THERE!?" screamed a high-pitched man as the inside of the warehouse brightened and hummed with mysterious energy.

"You leave a dead woman on my doorstep as an invitation," said Ben as he stepped around some debris, revealing himself and Stanley, "and you don't even roll out the red carpet when I get here?"

Standing around a table in the center of the warehouse were three grown men wearing armor plating with yellow smiley faces on the plate carriers.

"So, you were the villain that Red Rocker was talking about," said the bald guy, pointing a gun at Ben's mask. "Who are you?"

"You don't know?"

"SHE WAS QUIET!" yelled a guy with a wild yellow mohawk and whose hands had balls of energy in them that illuminated the room. "SHE WOULDN'T SCREAM! BUT HER FAMILY DID! HAHAHAHA!"

"I see," said Ben, bowing slightly as he realized Sue had kept her promise and had only just made it to his house without revealing anything. "Well, since it won't make a difference anyway, you lot can call me The Gentleman."

The bald man inhaled sharply, cocking the gun to the side and loading a round that contained some sort of liquid capsule.

"I'm sorry to bother you, sir," the bald man apologized without dropping his aim. "I didn't mean to disturb you."

"Bro," said the goon who wore a smiley mask to match his body armor, "what are you doing?!"

"Shut it."

"What's your deal?!"

"Shut up!"

The smiley masked man reached for his own sidearm, a slingshot with a string band made of alien material. He easily slipped a smooth ball bearing into the sling's pouch and pulled it back, only to get shot in the arm by the bald man. The pod broke around the goon's arm and hardened immediately, creating a concrete-style rock that bound his arm to his body.

"Don't you fucking dare!" the bald man threatened, chambering another pod and pointing it at the smile on his mask. "I will seal that damn mask to your face."

"What the FUCK man?!"

"I agree," Ben called out. "What. The. Fuck?"

"I'm Con Creete, this beside me is my brother, Sling, and the guy behind us is Caustic," the bald man introduced the trio.

"HELLO!" screamed the disturbed Caustic.

"Good evening," Ben reciprocated. "What part was I supposed to have in this?"

"We're recruiting right now. We bring in a villain, and if they don't join, we get them to name a villain who might, and then we repeat. Red Rocker-"

"Sue," Ben corrected.

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"Sue," Con Creete said, "was named by Gargantua, but she didn't want to give up any contact."

"What made you think she had one?"

"A villain always keeps up with another villain. Even we grabbed her man and son, she was tight-lipped. She caved, but only if she went personally. I honestly thought she had just run out on the boys, but here you are."

"So," Sling said while struggling to get the solidified goo off, "are you going to join or are we going to have to-"

"NO," Creete said, raising the gun back at his brother's face. "The Gentleman is retired, and I don't want to be the one who brings him back in the game."

"AAAAA, HE'S A NICE MAN WITH SPIDERS IN HIS EARS!"

"What the fuck man?!" Sling shouted at his brother, who primed the cartridge to shoot. "Why the fuck are you ready to suck this guy's dick like he's Jesus Ghandi Christ?!"

The bald man kept his gun ready as he circled the table to his brother, then swung the hilt to strike the plexiglass of the mask. The crack was quiet, but the shouts were clearer as Sling fell, only to be kicked while he was down by his big, bad brother.

"You fucking punk!" Creete swore, sticking the gun into the broken mask and pressing the barrel painfully into his face. "This job used to be a fucking nightmare! The Hero Squad had a fucking god on their side, and they weren't afraid of shit! They'd steamroll villains like we were candy for the taking, just because some big, blue bastard gave them big, blue balls to do what they wanted!"

"Then The Gentleman comes along, and he flips the whole script in its head! He makes Hero Squad look like bitches, and suddenly heroes aren't so keen to be out on the streets anymore. Then their big, blue golden-boy gets wiped, and they go nuts! Suddenly, hero safety is the primary concern, the money and jewels are just replaceable commodities. Villains get the head start for once, and the man who delivered us from heroes was just disturbed by our trivial little bullshit! You better get ready to suck his cock, because he's the only reason I even let you be a villain!"

"But-... you said I was ready," Sling whined.

"The stage is ready, not you," Con Creete spat. "Now that the heroes have a response time and underpowered weenies, it's the golden age of villains! And the man who did it is standing right there! Now show some fucking respect!"

Con slapped his brother again, then got off of him and apologized to The Gentleman for the spectacle. Sling pouted, but also apologized.

"Mhm," Ben said, unamused by the display. "That's all very amusing, but, unfortunately, I prefer my privacy over letting you live. Please understand."

"Fuck," Creete swore, pointing the gun at Ben and firing it immediately.

Ben remained statuesque as the pod shattered across his mask and hardened around his head.

"Don't give him time!" Con shouted, charging towards The Gentleman while loading a different pod into the gun.

As the trio darted towards Ben, the substance around his head suddenly split with a loud crack, then fragmented like a grenade, shooting hardened shrapnel back at his enemies. Caustic threw the ball of energy forwards which released a toxic surface of glowing dust in front of the group, defending them from the bombardment but blocking them from advancing.

Con Creete raised his gun to fire through the cloud blindly, only for The Gentleman to jump through the cloud to his right, aiming for Caustic. Before the villain could unleash another toxic energy blast, a shoulder was buried firmly in his gut and arms wrapped around his legs to get him off balance. Ben tackled and rolled over the villain, whose body armor didn't protect from the ground impact. The roll got Ben to the table, which he grabbed to change direction and avoid a backshot from Con Creete.

"Got him!" Sling shouted, releasing a bearing from his sling that was deflected when Ben slammed his fist on the table, sending two days of fast food trash and planning equipment into the air. The simple ball bearing fired like a high caliber round, hitting a welding mask that had been on the table and obliterating it.

"Just shoot," Creete shouted, "don't announce yourself!"

The table was flipped over and started to advance as cover. Sling flung another round right through the table, but it didn't stop the advance. Creete fired a round where the table met the concrete, halting the move and giving them some time.

"GET THE CHILD!" screeched Caustic, charging another ball as the other two villains remembered The Gentleman came with a kid.

Stanley, who had been shocked into stillness, found three villains aiming deadly weapons in his direction.

"CEASE"

On command, the fight stopped. The villains froze, pointing their weapons at a young boy, who similarly couldn't move.

No, not couldn't.

Wouldn't.

All of them could feel their muscles shaking and quivering, they could see the dust settling, and they noticed how the lights outside still flickered. The world continued to move, they themselves were frozen by a force they didn't recognize. But it was in their mind, telling them that if they moved, they would die. A primordial fear etched deeper than the mind could grasp.

Stepping out from behind the table, a man wearing a frowning mask walked leisurely through the former arena as if it were his home after a long day of work. He kicked some dust towards the villains as he went to Stanley's side and placed a hand on the boys shoulder, crouching until the eyes of his mask were level with the kids.

"The first rule of any fight," Ben preached, "have a trump card. And when you're fighting villains, have twenty. When you came here, how many did you prepare?"

Stanley couldn't answer, and he didn't know why. He could feel his mouth tremble, but the words he wanted to say weren't exiting his lips. It was like there was a disconnect between his brain and his mouth, but there wasn't-

And that's when Stanley looked into the eyes of the mask and his entire body shook with tremors of an endless fear. The eyes, which had been closed last he noticed, were now open, and they seemed to emit a darkness that stole heat from the body and air from the lungs. The darkness that once flickered with the light, an illusion of the mind, was actually moving from the depths of the masks empty sockets. Something was down there, something filled with hate and a desire to kill so strong that all around could feel it on raw instinct.

"This is the 'Tragic Mask'," Ben explained, shifting the mask to the side so his real eyes could see, "a mask containing the crying soul of a muse. It's a tricky, prickly little thing to use, but useful enough for its size. It has several commands that will captivate all those who hear it."

Ben turned away as Stanley's eyes started to swim, and the boy noticed for the first time in minutes that he hadn't taken a breath. He sucked in air as The Gentleman strode to the trio of villains who were trying to comprehend their mortality in the face of absolute fear.

"what are you going to do to us?" pleaded Caustic, his screechy voice placid and monotone for once.

"I'm going to serve you up as a lesson for the boy," Ben stated, cracking his knuckles. "I'm going to hurt you, break you boys down 'old school'-style. And, unfortunately for you, it's a Sunday, which means the boy has school tomorrow. So let's be quick about this and give me a few good screams, if you'd be so kind?"

#####################################################################

Driving through the park behind school, Ben smiled as the sun crested the forest road in front of him, turning his visor down so he wasn't blinded. The little backroad was one of many unpaved secrets the town had which avoided some much unnecessary traffic. The road around the school were impossible at this hour from all the kids, parents, and busses trying to make it on time, but a little cut through the park and then a five minute walk made all the difference.

When Ben got to the end of the road, he turned to Stanley and said, "Have a nice day at school!"

Stanley sat in the passenger seat with a look of death about him. His face was sunken and still, like a gargoyle with a fear of heights. His eyes were swollen and bloodshot as if he hadn't closed them in hours, unable to unsee. His hands were gripping the air as if he'd contracted arthritis and his skin was oily and greasy from a constant sweating that was wringing him dry. He breathed slowly through his mouth, the smell of blood still filling his nostrils even though he'd showered for an hour and scrubbed himself to the bone with steel wool to get the stench off.

"Stanley," Ben said, snapping his fingers to wake the kid up.

The boy jumped like he'd been bitten by an alligator, quickly stammering, "What-what-what-ah-what is it?"

"It's time for school," Ben stated, gesturing at the unlocked passenger door.

"Right," Stanley said, quickly opening the door, only for the hand of death to grab his shoulder and hold him in place.

"And if you're still thinking about a non-standard career path, we can have another field trip, but you'll have to organize your own ride home."

Ben let go and Stanley slid out of the truck, missing the step-rail and falling onto his butt on the cold, wet mud below.

"Shut the door, please," Ben called.

Stanley reached up weakly and slowly inched the door closed. The truck rolled forward, did a U-turn, then drove past with the driver holding a finger over his lips in a 'quiet' sign. As the sound of the monstrous engine faded, the boy started to feel once again as the fear began to slowly creep out of his body.

Turning over quickly, he vomited an empty stomach of bile and mucus. Tears streamed down his face as the crust of a horrible night crumbled away, and all he could do was weep.