Author: Harper Kingsley
Series: Heroes & Villains trilogy (Heroes & Villains, Allies & Enemies, All That Remains)
Genre: superhero, science fiction, action, mm
Rating: Teen+ (violence, language)
Summary: Vereint Georges has spent his entire life dreaming of being a superhero and making a difference in the lives of the people around him. Unfortunately, his first venture into heroing doesn't go quite the way he plans and he earns himself an undeserved reputation for incompetence. From there, the recriminations start rolling in.
Is it any wonder that he might just chuck all the good and go for the bad? Because if people are going to treat him like he's crap, why should he go out of his way to save their lives? It's a lot easier being rich.
Read: Chapter Three
CHAPTER THREE
Slouching down on his couch, Vereint stared blankly at the TV, not seeing his own face as his recorded image fumbled the interview badly. He couldn't even hear his own voice stammering and stumbling over what to say. His mind was far away, going over and over the main points of his existence.
Every aspect of his life made him miserable in one way or another. He needed a change before he lost his mind completely and something really bad happened.
He didn't want to hurt anyone, but it seemed as though that was exactly where he was headed. There was something in him that wanted to cause violence and pain on other people, and the frustration of knowing that all of his dreams were coming to nothing made that something more intent on causing damage. He was losing control of himself and there didn't seem to be anything he could do about it.
"I don't want to be a superhero anymore. There, I said it out loud." He raked a hand through his hair, suddenly hating the perfect appearance he had forced himself to acquire.
He was tired of having to fit someone else's ideal of a superhero. He liked the thought of being able to help people, but it wasn't worth it if he had to completely betray his personal identity.
Every single move he made was televised, then later taken apart by pundits who were never there in the midst of all the danger and didn't have to make split-second decisions that peoples' lives were depending on. They got to stay in their nice climate controlled offices and television studios turning him into one big joke for the world as though just because he had superpowers he didn't have human emotions.
Vereint was tired of being laughed at all the time.
Thinking about it, he knew that he could give up the whole superhero thing and return to his normal life as though nothing had ever happened, but that seemed like such a waste. Besides, he didn't really enjoy his job or his life as Vereint Georges, especially after he had become used to something much more exciting.
He enjoyed being able to go out and use his superpowers in public, but he didn't like all the rules inherent with being a superhero.
"The bad guys have way more fun," he said. "Plus, there's the added benefit of having money in the pocket." Vereint looked around his empty apartment. "And I'm now talking to myself. Great."
He sat there for a long moment, just staring at nothing, then began to laugh, his shoulders shaking with the force of his hilarity. And there weren't any tears behind it all. There weren't.
* * *
Warrick woke with a gasp, jerking upright in bed as he tried to regain control of himself. "What the hell..."
Images from his dreams flashed through his mind: The working of smooth muscle, almost purple eyes gazing into his own, a mouth sucking in needed breath, thrust and flex of warm taut flesh. He could still feel himself writhing under the imagined assault, his fingers clenched tight in short black hair.
Groaning, he rubbed his face hard with the palms of his hands. He hadn't been able to catch a clear view of the man that was giving him such pleasure in his dreams, just flashes of various body parts. Waking up was an act of frustration. On one hand he was glad to wake up because there was something about the dream that had felt a bit disturbing, as though there was something not right. Yet at the same time there had been the sense that if he just stayed asleep a little while longer he would be able to see who the man was.
Rolling out of bed, he padded toward the bathroom and a long shower. He felt like he had to wash himself inside and out to stop the dream from overwhelming his mind.
After his shower, he made himself a quick breakfast then snagged the phone. "Hey, Beckman, how's business?"
"Same old, same old, boss man," Josiah Beckman's cheerful voice said. "You're making money out the ass and everything's running smoothly, as usual."
"Neat," Warrick said. "Why don't you fax the quarterlies to me so I can check everything out?"
"Sure. As soon as we're off the line, I'll fax it."
"Awesome."
Warrick traced a finger through the perspiration on his glass of orange juice. Talking to Beckman was always such a trial, mostly because he had to maintain the image of Warrick Reidenger Tobias he had developed to hide his secret identity as Blue Ice.
With half his attention, he maintained the conversation with Beckman while the rest of him was finishing his breakfast and trying not to think about the dream that had woken him. Disturbing flashes of bare flesh kept drifting across his mind, sending twitches of sensation through his body.
What made him feel the weirdest about the dream was that from what he could put together about his dream-lover, the man was nothing like his usual type. Black hair, when he had always been partial to redheads and blondes. Eyes so dark a blue they were almost purple instead of green. A warm voice murmuring in his ear, promising forever when all he had ever wanted before was one-night stands and short "relationships" that ended with the purchase of some flashy piece of jewelry. It scared him that hearing those promises made him feel soothed inside, as though there was nothing he wanted more than a lifetime with the owner of those caressing, stroking, gripping hands.
After hanging up the phone, Warrick left the dirty dishes in the sink for later and crossed the living room to stand in front of the large bay windows that looked out over the city. The awesome view was one of the reasons why he had chosen to buy the penthouse of one of the most expensive buildings in the city. Plus, it was high enough up that even if he wasn't careful, no one would be able to see him fly off the balcony.
Lately he had found himself looking out over the city and wondering what it was all about. He risked his life daily for no real reward. People were hardly ever grateful to be saved. They had begun to take it as their due, as though he would always be there to keep them alive even when they were the authors of their own misfortunes. He would just be there to rescue them and they would never have to put any effort in to helping themselves.
Sometimes he idly toyed with the idea of what they would do if he simply didn't show up one day. If they would be so sure that he would come save them that they would just stand still while they were slaughtered en masse.
He had had dreams that ended in blood and gore. The worst part was waking up with cum spattered across his stomach, wondering what was wrong with him.
"Why do I do this?" he murmured. He pressed his fingers against the glass. "When did you people ever become worth any of this?"
The little ants scurrying across the ground below offered up no answers. They never did.
He sighed and turned away from the window, rolling his shoulders. He had things to do.
* * *
Vereint hunched over his desk, twirling a pen between his fingers. There was a stack of paperwork in front of him, but he was determinedly ignoring it.
When he had first taken this job he had figured it would just be a part of his secret identity. He hadn't really thought about how boring and time consuming it really was.
Sure, he had superpowers, but that really didn't add more hours to the day. And it really wasn't like disasters and crime happened on any kind of set schedule. So he couldn't just use his lunch break to fight crime and come back in time to work the rest of his shift.
There was just no way he could hold down a full-time office job and be a superhero too. Even with his ability to move at the speed of light, twenty-four hours was not enough.
Something just had to give, and he had a feeling it was going to be him.
"Do you have the VanHausen report done yet?"
Vereint turned his head to look at Michael Sachs. "Not yet."
"You better hurry," Sachs ordered. "You've been just sitting around all day. It's time to work now."
Vereint felt a wave of irritation go through him. Sachs was just doing his job and Vereint knew he hadn't been doing his own. But he just couldn't make himself care.
He had the power to change the fate of the world if he wanted to, but instead he was sitting around filling out reports that really did nothing in the grand scheme of things.
When his powers had first manifested all he wanted was to be normal. Now all he wanted was to do something that actually mattered, to himself if no one else.
"You know what," he said, decision firming, "I don't think I want to do this anymore."
"What?" Sachs' eyes were impossibly wide.
"I'm done here," Vereint said.
"Wha... You... You can't just quit."
"Honestly, man, I really think I just did. And really, not regretting it at all." He stood and in one smooth motion of his arm, swept everything off his desk and into the trash can. "Enjoy the thrill of being floor manager and pushing paper for the rest of your life, 'cause me? I'm totally heading for something different."
Sachs looked so completely shocked that Vereint couldn't even regret his spur of the moment choice to quit his day job.
"Tell the boss I won't be back tomorrow," he said, already heading toward the door. "Oh, and the company can keep my last check. That's to pay for all the sugar packets and non-dairy creamer I've been stealing for the past three months. You know, so I never had to buy my own."
He could feel people looking at him as he walked down the corridor of cubicles. They were all wondering who he thought he was and what he was going to do with his life. They all thought he was going to fail and come crawling back, begging for his job and the abuse that accompanied it.
To the world at large, Vereint Georges was nothing but a pathetic loser wannabe. Good-looking enough for a dozen second looks, but with no fashion sense or personality to speak of. He should have been popular but wasn't. Should have been successful at life, but instead was nothing more than ever mediocre.
He hadn't put much effort into living his normal life because it was never anything more than a sham and a lie. He was supposed to be Starburst, beloved superhero of the world.
But no matter how he tried, it was the one thing that he truly wanted and he was a failure at it. Pouring out his heart and soul into the dream of being a hero, only to end up being nothing more than a joke.
"Vereint Georges" was supposed to be the mask. He hadn't cared that everyone laughed behind his back because he knew it wasn't really him. But somehow Starburst had become a loser too, and it was something he just couldn't bear.
I'm done with all this crap, he thought.
There was a whole wide world out there and he thought maybe it was time for him to grab his share of it.
* * *
A flood in some overcrowded and disgustingly smelly city in a country that wasn't his own. The League had gotten the call and had all been sent out. So here he was pulling drowning people out of fast moving water, clearing debris to allow rescue workers access, and in all he was soaked to the skin, exhausted, and thoroughly miserable.
More than anything he wanted a hot shower and a cup of coffee. Instead he got a bottle of water and a turkey noodle MRE that completely turned his stomach.
"This totally blows, man."
Warrick gave Caspian a tired grin. "At least you've got gills. I feel like I'm never going to be dry again. I'm lucky I haven't sprung freaky webbed fingers like you."
"Hey, shut up." Caspian gave him a little push.
In the midst of such human tragedy, even such a tiny reason to laugh was worth its weight in gold. It was one of the reasons he was glad Caspian had accepted membership in the League of Superheroes, and not just because they were friends.
The half-Atlantean had a gift for lightening any situation just by being there. Half the time he didn't even have to say anything and just his solid presence made things a little bit better. Bearable.
"When's our next break?" Warrick asked, glancing down at his watch, or chronometer as he sometimes called the fancy gadget that kept track of five different time zones. Really, though, it was just a watch.
Caspian shrugged. "Who knows. They work us like we're on salary. Someone really needs to have a talk with the union about the way we're treated just because we're metahumans."
"Except for Urban Lizard."
"Huh?" Caspian asked.
Warrick shrugged. "He's not a metahuman. He's from like planet Dildo in the galaxy of Really Big Balls or something completely fake sounding. Anyway, he's an alien, so not a metahuman."
"Meta-alien." Caspian snorted a laugh. "I totally hate him anyway. He's a complete freak."
Warrick knew he should probably say something about how Urban wasn't a complete freak-burger, but he couldn't. He personally thought Urban Lizard was an idiot.
"Whatever. When are we going to get some actual food delivered? I'm starving."
Caspian shrugged. "Right now we seem to be at the bottom of the attention pyramid. We're doing the bulk of the rescue work, but we're slated to receive food and other supplies last."
"Just because we have superpowers, we're supposed to be able to operate long hours on substandard rations. It's fucking ridiculous. I'm really going to have to bring it up at the next full League meeting. Seriously."
Caspian sighed and shook his head. "Sometimes I really have to wonder why we do this. I mean, in the end, what do we get out of all the hardship and sacrifice other than more work to do and people questioning why we didn't save them faster with our mega superpowers."
"What do you honestly expect?" Warrick asked. "People are sheep, man. Meat eating sheep, but sheep nonetheless. They get told what to do, and they do it."
Caspian snorted. "Man, you really need to get out more. You're getting all... creepy."
"Look where I am, man," Warrick said, waving a hand, "look where I am. Besides... I'm still hungry, and turkey noodle? So not with the yay."
"Dude, don't talk like me. It makes you sound like a total dork."
Warrick grinned. "Be that a lesson to you, young Padawan learner."
"You're a sick man, Blue. A sick, sick man."
"And don't you ever forget it," Warrick replied, slapping his friend on the shoulder.
Flood water gushed around their legs along with the wreckage of what used to be a somewhat prosperous third world city, but in that moment none of it could reach the two superheroes. Standing as part of the Earth, but untouched by it as well. Even soaked to the skin and covered with better-left unnamed filth, they were somehow beyond the people and the world around them.
* * *
He had always kind of assumed that completely rearranging his life would be a somewhat difficult process. But really... it wasn't very hard at all.
First he quit his job, then he used his savings to rent a warehouse space that he converted into a "secret lair." After that he began thinking up a new costume to wear and began planning what he was going to do with himself and how far he was willing to go.
It was easier to slip into his supervillain skin than he had ever imagined. It was like the natural progression of everything he was. There was nowhere else for him to turn but to evil.
The letting go of righteousness was almost a relief. Almost.
There was still a tiny little voice in the back of his mind that whispered that maybe what he planned was wrong, that maybe he should back out now while he still had a chance. But the voice was so small and insignificant... he crushed it into silence and didn't feel anything at all.
His first appearance as a supervillain was at the gay pride parade. He hadn't really planned on that being his first breakout into the world of superpowered crime, but that was just the way things happened.
The streets were filled with happy, yelling people. Floats and walkers and banner waving transvestites were everywhere. It was a beautiful sunny day in Megacity and it seemed as though everyone was celebrating the idea of sexual freedom.
There were the usual protesters of course, but they had been relegated off to the side and the patrolling policemen were keeping an eye on anyone that might decide to cause a scene. In all, it was a wonderful event.
Vereint had completely forgotten what day it was. The only thing he had known when he was making his plans was that Grimbles Jewel Emporium was open for business and it was along Lakey and Vine--which happened to be part of the parade route.
He should have probably turned around and gone home when all the noise and fervor hit him, but he figured "What the hell." He was already here, might as well go through with it.
So he flew over the crowd to land on the roof of Grimbles.
For a moment, poised there on the rooftop, he made himself think about the fact that he could turn back. He could give up this crazy idea and go home. He could remain as Starburst and no one would ever have to know that he had seriously considered being someone completely different.
Then, standing there, he heard a jeering voice in the back of his mind say, "Well, if it isn't the Candy Ass." It sounded remarkably like Blue Ice.
"No," he said out loud. He refused to remain that weak nobody that everyone had mocked.
It was time for him to show the world just how strong he could be.
Clenching his hands into fists, he drew in a deep breath, pulling his resolve tight around him. He was going to change his image for good and forever.
Here I go, he thought.
And without letting himself entertain anymore second thoughts, he lifted his arms over his head, flexed his legs and flipped over backwards to plunge toward the roof headfirst.
Like a professional diver entering the pool, there was very little visual result as he sliced through the surface of the roof, the aura around his body burning through wood and metal and everything else until he popped out the other side.
He was standing in the diamond vault. Trays and trays of easily portable wealth surrounded him. It was like all the world's Christmas' and birthdays rolled into one, and it was his.
It was almost too easy for him to bring the drawstring bag out of his pocket and begin filling it with diamonds and rubies and sapphires. He would have thought the voice of his conscience would have had something to say about him stealing, but there was nothing.
"Huh," he said out loud.
"Freeze!"
He turned to see a rent-a-cop pointing a gun at him. He could hear the man's heartbeat thudding out of control. The man could obviously tell that he wasn't dealing with a normal criminal but with a metahuman.
"Dude, that gun's not going to do you any good here," Vereint said kindly. "If I was you, I'd put it away before you get hurt."
"Freeze," the man repeated, but he didn't sound anywhere near to confident. He could obviously tell that there was no way this could possibly end well.
"Look, man," Vereint kept his voice level, "I really don't want to hurt you, and I'm honestly going to try not to. But if you push it too far... I'm going to break your arm."
"Just... Just put the bag down and step away. The police are already on their way," the security guard said.
"Doesn't matter to me," Vereint said. "I've kind of made a life choice here, and I don't think I'm going to turn back from it now. So you're just going to have to deal with what's coming next."
"What... What's that?"
A faint smirk tugged at the corner of Vereint's mouth and he was suddenly right THERE in front of the man, the gun in his own hand. "This," he said.
The man gasped and backpedaled frantically. He was just a normal human, no special powers or any wish to face down someone that had them. And he most definitely knew that this was not the kind of position he wanted to be in.
"Pl-please..."
"Don't worry, man," Vereint said. "Unless you really tick me off, I'm not going to go out of my way to hurt you. So why don't you just get out of here while you can, huh? The police should be here soon and you're totally not equipped to deal with my antihero self. Your job's done. Go home."
He could see the indecision on the guy's face, but after only a few seconds of consideration, he took the easy out and turned to run from the gem vault. Vereint was glad; he really didn't want to have to hurt the guy, but he would have if pushed.
He had made the conscious decision to become a supervillain, with everything that it entailed. And he wasn't backing away from his choice.
Vereint squared his shoulders and turned to gather up the rest of the jewels. He had a job to do here. A reputation to begin... and one to ruin.
No more Candy Ass. Starburst was going out in a crime spree the likes of which the city and the world had never seen before.
Gathering up his sackful of gems, he walked toward the door. He was going out through the front and no one was going to stop him.
There were at least a dozen eyes staring at him as he walked through the lobby. No one said anything though, probably too afraid that he was going to vaporize them with his crazy eye beams or something. The security guard had obviously let them know he was a metahuman.
That was good. He wasn't thrilled at the thought of having to hurt someone today.
"Sorry about the mess I left in there," he said. "I'm sure your insurance will cover the hole in the ceiling."
He could feel their eyes burning into his back as he walked straight out the double doors and right through the busy parade route.
Horns blared as floats swerved and people cursed him for walking in the middle of the street. He just laughed.
For the longest time there had been this weight bearing down on him. Now it was gone and he was free to do whatever he wanted and there was no one in the world that could stand against him.
"Welcome to a brand new day," he said, rising up off the asphalt in a burst of violent color, leaving two smoking footprints etched into the ground behind him.
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