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 Four
CHAPTER FOUR
It was hard to believe that such a Candy Ass could turn out to be so hardcore, but there it was. Proof once again that Starburst cum Darkstar had completely turned his life around in one of the most infuriating ways possible.
Warrick glared at the TV, his teeth grit angrily as the announcer went on and on about the newly renamed Darkstar and his reign of terror over the city. No one could stop him, not even the best the League had to offer.
After coming back from a flooded disaster area, the last thing Warrick had expected to see was that a new villain was rampaging through Megacity. Especially not one that used to be a wannabe superhero.
The worst thing, though? The fact that the public absolutely loved the asshole. They were licking it all up and begging for more of the wonderful, fabulous fucking Darkstar!
Growling, Warrick slammed his vodka and cranberry to the floor, not caring that the glass shattered and his cream colored carpet was probably stained forever.
"This is ridiculous!"
He stomped over to the painting of The Perfect Lovers hanging above his mantel and reached behind to flick the hidden latch along the edge. There was a whir of machinery and the opposing wall began to slide open, revealing a dark shaft/tunnel that fell straight down through the heart of the building.
The tunnel was lined with titanium to keep anyone from either accidentally busting their way through the wall or trying to drill their way in. Not that any of the other residents had ever voiced any questions about some of the odder architectural choices of Tobias Towers. Most of them were wealthy, over-privileged, and sadly lacking in any real sense of curiosity; as long as they got their everyday perks, they didn't question the world around them.
He leapt through the door, letting gravity do its work and send him plummeting downward. It was time for him to do something about that asshole.
It only took him a few minutes to get suited up, then he was headed out to make the world a better place... or at least his slice of it.
That asshole Starburst, or Darkstar, or whatever the hell he wanted to call himself was marching in on his turf. Now Warrick was going to teach him what happened to those that stepped wrong where they weren't supposed to.
The air above the city was cool against his spandex and armor covered skin. Not uncomfortably so, since he had the ability to control ice, but enough that he knew about it.
There was something so freeing about being able to float high above the earth, weightless and unmoored by the cares of the everyday world.
Being able to look down and see everything so tiny below him... it made the problems of everyday life seem completely insignificant. The illusion of being able to reach out his hand and cup the world like a marble in his palm, to press his fingers against the city and make it disappear, they were the kinds of thoughts that made everything that drove people seem like nothing.
It was hard to hold onto his anger when he was this high up. Nothing could touch him here, and all the petty dirtiness of day-to-day living was just a dream.
He'd been living the life of a superhero for over fourteen years--since he was a kid. He had been saving the world one bit at a time for most of his adult life.
In some ways, he felt as though the world belonged to him and him alone. He had devoted himself to the good fight and each new supervillain that popped up just filled him with the sickness of knowing that no matter how hard he tried, another asshole was going to think that they could take his world away from him and make it their own.
Not this time, he thought. There was no way he was going to let some pussy think that he could screw up all his effort and hard work.
He was going to make an example out of Darkstar, one that would make all the would-be supervillains sit up and take notice.
That asshole, he thought, is going to wish he'd never been born by the time I'm through with him.
* * *
He was standing in the midst of a celebrity gala, his eyes taking in the terror displayed by the guests. The rich and the powerful all bowing before him, their sneers wiped away by the sheer dominance of his presence.
He had burst in upon their joyful event through a handily situated skylight, glass raining down around him while he listened to the surprised screams. It was actually kind of amusing to see people clutching at their scratched and bloody arms and faces as they turned toward him like flowers to the sun. Everyone's attention was on him, their eyes drawn to him with an inescapable magnetism.
For this moment in time, he was the center of their world. And it made him very happy.
"Okay everybody, what I want from you is simple," he called. "All of your cash and your jewelry is what I expect, one slip of the tongue, bam, there goes your life, see ya later."
They quickly started tossing their valuables into the bag in the middle of the floor. It made him want to laugh. They were so serious about what they were doing that not one of them seemed to have caught on to what he had referenced with his demand.
He wondered if he would have been as terrified as they were if he hadn't been largely invulnerable. If he was just a normal human, would he have been as pathetic? It was actually a pretty sobering thought.
He watched them scrambling all over each other to try and please him, his black cape swirling around him under power of the building's AC. He was currently dressed in a form-fitting black bodysuit with red armor over his chest that he didn't really need but that he thought made his suit look a little more hardcore. He had matched his domino mask to the armor's red.
Floating effortlessly on air, he felt as above these people as a god from a herd of sheep. They were so insignificant. their vulnerabilities were pathetic. It was disgusting.
"You better hurry up," he said. "I don't have very much patience."
A flood of diamonds and gold and crumpled up bills fell into the bag, and he only had to give a piercing glare to those that seemed to be hiding things and they quickly complied. It was a little weird to know that he had that much power over a bunch of people, but it was oddly good too. They were his puppets to play with.
Finally deciding that they had put pretty much everything in the bag, he swooped down to grab it in one hand, rising back up into the air.
"Thank you for your time, ladies and gentlemen," he said. "I am ever so grateful for your prompt service, and I graciously apologize for interrupting your evening in such a crass manner." He flashed the room at large as charming a smile as he could manage before shooting up into the air toward the opening he had made in the skylight.
Somewhere below him, he heard one of the ladies sigh and say loudly, "It's a sin for one man to be so handsome."
It made him grin wider. There was something kind of nice about being so obviously admired.
* * *
It was hard to believe that such a lousy superhero could make such a striking supervillain. It was the one thought that kept rotating around and around in his head, spinning faster with each repetition until he almost choked on the frothing irritation.
"What the fuck is this shit?" he snarled, flinging himself over the couch arm to settle on the cushion.
"Whoa, maybe you should tone it down on the language," Caspian suggested. "I don't think you're ever going to end up on a box of cereal as long as you keep sounding like a sailor on leave."
"I can sound however the fuck I want to sound." Warrick snatched up the remote control and quickly flipped through the channels to some movie or other. "I can't believe that guy is getting famous off of being a douchebag. It makes me want to throw up."
"So, is he a bag made to hold douche, or a bag made out of douche?" Caspian asked mock-seriously.
Warrick glared at him, but Caspian didn't crack his expression, until finally Warrick just had to laugh. "All right, thank you. I needed that."
"So, what are we watching?" Caspian asked.
"Um, I think we're watching Lifetime," Warrick said. They watched for a few minutes as a nearly beautiful woman walked into a restaurant where she happened to run into an improbably charismatic man and immediately acceded to his lame pickup lines.
"That guy's going to rape her and sell her into white slavery, isn't he?" Caspian asked in quiet horror.
"It is Lifetime." Warrick leaned forward to grab the large bowl of popcorn off the table. "I think I want to watch something else."
"Oh thank God!" Caspian mock-swooned. "If I actually watched this whole movie I would have to cut off my penis and rename myself Anna Lee or something."
"Heh, Anna Lee." Warrick hit the guide and began sorting through to try and find something a little more macho for them to watch. "I still can't believe that Candy Ass went all Dark Side and people are really buying it."
"I don't know, he's pulled off some pretty hardcore heists, and he does have the power-base to back himself up."
"What he's got is way too much power for being such a gigantic loser wang." Warrick settled on a sci-fi movie with some kind of armor wearing soldiers fighting rampaging genetic mutants, and slouched down with a huff.
Caspian grabbed a fistful of popcorn. "I think you're just jealous."
"Jealous? Jealous!? Of what?" Warrick demanded.
"Oh, I don't know, maybe the fact that he's willing to do whatever the hell he wants and he doesn't care what anyone thinks. It's not like he's a legacy or anything." Caspian munched on popcorn while he talked, which was only just a little disgusting. "You're like a, what, fifth generation superhero? From the minute you were conceived it was kind of expected that you would be out there saving babies and stopping meteors and stuff. You know."
"Why don't you just shut up?" Warrick growled petulantly, then made himself ignore Caspian's snickering next to him.
Sometimes it was hard having someone like Caspian as a best friend, but it was the cross he had to bear.
* * *
One minute he was minding his own business, the next he had a figure of slinking evil wrapped around him, cooing in his ear and rubbing up against his lower half.
He froze. "What are you doing?"
"Come on, the way you dress, everyone knows this is what you're into." Mister Malevolent's breath was hot against the side of his face, spearminty with just a hint of rancid meat. "Oh, you're so pretty! Whoever thought that someone as pretty as you would just come strolling up on the scene? Grrr!"
Vereint's eyes twitched and he could see people stopping to stare around the Square, their attention caught by the sight of two supervillains in such an "intimate" pose. "Dude, you're like nine hundred years old and absolutely disgusting. So why don't you get off of me before things get serious, huh?"
"Baby, it's already serious," there was a hint of a growl in the back of Mister Malevolent's voice. He may have come across as a washed up old queen, but there were stories on the street about the things he'd done to weaker metabilities, and none of them were pretty. "Let's go back to my place and have some fun."
Vereint managed to maintain some of his control, right up until he felt the man grinding against his hip. It was like one of those date rape scenes from a hokey old after school drama, but it was happening to him.
Vereint snarled, his clawed right hand slamming into Malevolent's crotch and gripping tight to lift the man in the air. Malevolent screamed and writhed, but couldn't break that crushing grip. His scream was shrill, his face twisted in agony.
"No means no, asshole," Vereint growled. He tightened and twisted his grip for a second, liking the sound of pain. "Next time, you better listen when someone says no. Or I'm gonna rip these right off. Now... fuck you!"
With barely a flick of his wrist, he flung Malevolent down the block, watching as he smashed headfirst into a building and fell the twenty feet down to the sidewalk below. He didn't get back up.
Vereint glanced down at his hand with a grimace. "I need to shower now."
He ignored the excited crowd that had gathered and leapt into the air. At least he could be sure that word of this little incident getting around would actually help him.
As a new supervillain, he didn't really have that much of a reputation and there weren't a whole lot of people taking him seriously. Mostly he'd caught the attention of a bunch of screaming girls that were only interested in him because he was "super hot." The rest of the world still thought he was easy prey, which had shown itself in the way Mister Malevolent had just kind of oozed up on him and thought he was going to get whatever he wanted.
I've got to work on my rep, Vereint thought decisively. He needed to set himself so firmly in peoples' minds as a real supervillain that no one would even dare mess with him. Which meant he was going to have to take the kid gloves off.
There was going to be no more messing around. And one thing he was going to stop doing was comparing himself to "real" supervillains, as though he wasn't one himself.
He was out to make a name, and no one had better get in his way unless they wanted to find out just how serious he was going to be. Because his determination was to be the greatest supervillain the world had ever known.
* * *
The news was filled with stories of Darkstar, Darkstar, Darkstar. It was some sick obsession festering in the hearts and minds of the people of Megacity.
Warrick crumpled up the newspaper and tossed it toward the floor. He thought that maybe he would cancel his subscription later. He didn't need or want to read some rag that seemed dedicated to canonizing a second-rate supervillain just because he was "astronomically good looking."
It was sickening, that was the only thing he could feel about it. The almost-worship the world held for Darkstar, a creature undeserving of any kind of consideration.
Caspian had tried to suggest that maybe he was jealous of Darkstar's sudden fame, but had quickly quieted after Warrick had gone into a frothing rage. "Fine, fine, you're not jealous or anything, you're just an extra concerned citizen. But until I can come over here and not have you screaming and throwing things at me, I think I'm going to hang out at my own place, okay?" And after saying that, Caspian had left and not come back.
That had been two days ago.
It wasn't like Warrick didn't understand that he was acting completely insane, but he just couldn't seem to help himself. There was something about the whole Darkstar situation that just drove him to the verge and maybe a little bit over. The fact that he didn't really know why he cared that much just made it even worse because the mystery itself was eating away at him.
Warrick spooned up his last bite of maple and brown sugar oatmeal before picking up the plump yellow banana he'd chosen for his breakfast. He squeezed it gently between his fingers, seeing that it didn't have a single brown spot. It was a singularly beautiful piece of fruit.
As he'd relegated himself to the idea that he was in his thirties--his early thirties, but his thirties nonetheless--he'd had to make a few dietary changes in his life. He'd had to cut back on the sugars, the trans fats, the delicious carbs, and basically everything else that he loved so that he didn't end up bulging out of his supersuit. He couldn't have a greasy breakfast at his favorite diner of bacon, eggs, and hash browns anymore, and if he did go there, he had to pick things off the Heart Healthy menu.
I hate egg white omelets and turkey bacon, he thought. I want to eat fatty pork bacon and scrambled eggs covered in melted cheese. I bet Darkstar doesn't have to worry about anything. His super metabolism probably...
"Dammit!" Warrick shouted, flinging the hapless banana across the room to splatter against the wall. Everything in his head came back to Darkstar and he just couldn't help himself.
It wasn't like he he was obsessed or anything. Except that it really seemed like he was obsessed, and not even the self-knowledge that he was out of control helped any.
His mind was irrevocably drawn to Darkstar, and that was the most annoying thing he had ever had to deal with.
Warrick scrubbed an angry hand across his face and abruptly pushed his chair back from the table.
He had things to do today, and there was no room for even thoughts of Darkstar in his life. And high up on his list was apologizing to Caspian for being such an asshole.
* * *
It was insane how easy being a supervillain turned out to be. It was a lot simpler than being a superhero, that was for damn sure. He got to write his own rules and if anyone thought to backseat supervillain him... he was allowed to go homicidal on them and there wasn't a whole lot anyone could do about it.
Vereint grinned to himself as he surveyed his latest haul. There were paintings, priceless statues and urns, and enough gold and jewelry that a dragon would have gone into orgasms. It was beautiful and all his.
He reached out and brushed his fingers across the face of a hip-high marble statue of a reclining nude man. It was incredibly realistic and he'd already decided that it was his favorite. The artist had titled it "Ganymede at Rest," though Vereint had decided to call it "Naked Grape Boy" even though there weren't any grapes. It just seemed oddly fitting.
He'd talked with a handful of other supervillains and looked some information up on the internet to try and figure out how he was going to work his new lifestyle, so he was pretty sure he knew what he was doing. He'd flown up to the moon and etched out some caverns on the dark side that he'd carefully lined with quick-dry cement. After that he'd used the instructions from some how-to books to build some hermetically sealed chambers that he was actually pretty proud of.
It wasn't like he had an engineering degree or anything, but he thought he'd done a pretty good job with making a high-tech moon base. Not that anyone was going to be able to reach it, or if they did, they probably wouldn't be able to survive very long in the hazardous environment that was the dark side of the moon. Dismal, airless, and cold enough that even some of the toughest metahumans would die in frozen agony.
There was no way anyone was going to find his stash of stolen goods. It made him feel very proud of himself.
The only problem he'd met in his short time as a supervillain was that it was kind of lonely. Especially since he'd decided against getting himself a bunch of minions, since that would mean there would be more chance of someone having the balls to expose his secrets to the world.
The last thing he wanted was his face splashed on the tabloid pages. He'd gone to a lot of work to build up his reputation and he didn't want to have to kill anyone just because they talked out of school.
Vereint sighed. He'd always been pretty cerebral, spending more time in his own head than out in the world talking to people and enjoying himself. It meant that he didn't have very many friends, and really didn't have a best friend at all.
There had always just been himself and the him he wished he could be.
At least he'd been able to go to his day job to get some human interaction going. But since he'd basically wrecked any chance that he was ever going to be able to get another legal job, he'd been pretty much alone.
He had never realized how lonely he could be. He had caught himself talking out loud and having conversations with people that weren't there. It was pretty pathetic, and no little worrying.
"I need to get the hell out of here," he said, then winced when he heard his own voice echoing in the silence of the room. "This is lame."
He gave Ganymede one more stroke before turning to leave. That statue was giving him ideas, ones that he definitely wasn't comfortable expressing on his own.
"Seriously, I totally need to get laid," he muttered. "The next thing you know, I'll be heating up microwave meals for one, collecting china teacups, and having to buy special litter for my multiple cats. I gotta go."
As he sealed the door behind himself, he made a silent promise that he wasn't going to be one of those guys that wandered through his mausoleum talking to the statues and expecting answers. He'd spend the money on a nice prostitute first.
* * *
"What the hell is your problem now?"
Warrick flinched at the sharp tone in Caspian's voice. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
Caspian came to lean on the wall next to him. "Really? You seriously want to pretend like you have no idea what I'm talking about, with me?"
Warrick felt a sense of shame. They'd just barely made up and already he was pissing Caspian off again. "All right, I admit I've been a bit moody lately, but I've been trying to hold things together. I've been doing my part out here on the streets and maybe I haven't been super chipper or anything, but I don't have a problem."
The look Caspian gave him was so disbelieving that it was almost a physical force. "You've been acting like a jerk all day. Sure, you're out here doing your part, but you've been totally bringing me down. I mean, God, if you had just stayed home today I think I would appreciate you more."
"That's very hurtful to say," Warrick said, genuinely shocked. "I... I honestly have no idea how to respond."
"Dude, I'm just telling you like it is. You showed up today, and it's obvious that this is not where you want to be." Caspian raked a hand through his blue-black hair, the faint bluish scales on the back of his hand glinting faintly. "If you're going to stay and work, that's cool. But you seriously need to stop with the moping around, sighing, and just general bipolar disorder. It's very off-putting when I'm trying to get things done."
When Caspian was that blunt about something, then it was an actual issue to be addressed. Usually Caspian was all jokes and laughter and even the most momentous conversation could be handled with a facetious comment or two that would have people that didn't know him well ready to snap his neck. So when he flat out said that something was getting on his last nerve... it was Serious Business.
Warrick looked across the city, trying to come across as though he was keeping an eye out for danger while really just giving himself a second to think.
They were currently posted up on the roof of a tall building, one that gave them a clear view of most of the city. It was one of Caspian's favorite spots and he was always having Warrick fly him up there.
He felt guilty that Caspian had actually had to come out and tell him to stop being a downer, because he completely realized that he was out of control. From the minute he'd gotten into costume and met with Caspian to start their shift patrolling the city, he'd been working with this gigantic chip on his shoulder, and he honestly couldn't say why that was. It had just been there when he'd woken up in the morning and he hadn't really done anything to try and dislodge it.
Warrick drew in a deep breath and turned to face Caspian. "Look, dude, I'm sorry I've been such an asshole today. I just... I'm an asshole." He shrugged.
Caspian looked at him for a long moment, then grinned, showing off his slightly sharper than human teeth. "Okay, just this once, I'm going to let it slide as long as you cut it out."
Warrick held up his hand. "Scout's honor. There will be no more bad attitude on my part, and I promise that I'll let out all of my negativity on the bad guys and not on you."
"That's all I'm asking for, man." Caspian pushed off from the wall. "You've been in a crappy mood for like a month. I've just hit the edge on what I'm going to put up with."
"Sorry." Warrick hadn't even realized that he'd been being a self-indulgent ass for that long, so to have it pointed out was a little daunting. "I'm cool now. I guess I've just been in a bad mood, but I'll stop taking it out on you."
Caspian looked him straight in the face for several seconds and what he saw there must have been acceptable because he nodded and started walking toward the edge of the building. "Why don't we patrol the city on the ground floor for a little while? What do you think?"
Realizing that they were just going to pretend that nothing had happened, Warrick came to stand next to him. "If that's what you want," he said, trying to sound perfectly casual.
At Caspian's agreement, Warrick grabbed his friend under the armpits and lifted him down to the street below.
There was something nice about patrolling the city on foot; it made the people seem more real and the crimes more important. Plus, it gave him the chance to think.
He honestly had no idea why he had been so moody lately. There was just something that kept driving a spike through his nerves and kept him on edge. It was just this sense that something was going to happen and he had to do something about it. The fact that he didn't know what "it" was just added to his irritability and he had been taking that out on the people around him, especially Caspian, mostly because he knew they would take his crap without really complaining. At least until he reached the point where his crap outweighed the level of friendship they shared.
"You know, maybe I need to get laid," he suddenly said.
Caspian gave him a raised eyebrow look, but he just shrugged. Caspian didn't pause to give his opinion, just jogged off to stop a mugging. Though what kind of guy would mug an old lady in broad daylight... definitely not a criminal mastermind, that was for sure.
Warrick growled in the back of his throat. He had never been one for feelings, but evidently he was headed into "manopause" territory, which meant his biological clock was insisting that he find someone and settle down.
"I don't need this crap," he muttered, sauntering over to help Caspian deal with his situation.
The old lady was throwing a fit and she'd probably given her mugger a concussion with her gigantic purse. Caspian had this look on his face like he didn't know what he was supposed to do with a rabid elderly woman wearing a paisley dress and support hose.
Warrick made a mental note to pick himself up a nice piece of strange and just go crazy. He would pour all of his "feelings" into another body so he didn't have to deal with them himself and everything could go back to the way it was supposed to be.
* * *
Maybe turning to the dark side should have filled him with all kinds of guilt and angst, but it didn't.
Somehow he had managed to find his niche in the whole supervillain thing. It was actually kind of nice to have come across something he was good at. He could kiss mediocrity goodbye and that filled him with a sense of warmth.
Vereint settled on the plush velvet chaise lounge he'd carried into his lair and thought that being bad was actually pretty good.
He basically got to make his own schedule. There was no one to tell him what to do. He didn't have to react to what other people did--they had to react to him. And the pay...
A grin crossed his lips at the thought of all the gold, diamonds, and other hockable wealth he had already accumulated and stashed away. It had already reached the point that if he wanted, he could totally retire right now and never have to ever worry about running out of money.
There was just something so nice about not having to maintain a nine-to-five job and just basically being allowed to do whatever he wanted. He was his own man.
Vereint folded his arms behind his head and let his eyes lazily drift closed. Today was going to be another sleepy, nothing to do day.
Or so he thought.
He was drifting toward slumber when there was a sudden loud crash and a blue clad superhero busted in through the skylight, sending shards of glass tumbling everywhere.
"What the fuck?" Vereint said intelligently, glaring at the interloper.
Even Blue Ice's hair looked self-righteous. "That's what I want to know, Candy Ass."
"That's not who I am anymore," Vereint said, brushing glass off the back of his hand. "It's Darkstar now."
"Listen, Dorkstar, there's no fucking way I'm going to let you get away with making an ass out of yourself in my town. Just because you couldn't handle the pressure of being a superhero... that doesn't mean I'm going to let you do whatever the hell you want. This ends now."
Vereint just looked at the other man for a long moment, then began to laugh. "What are you going to do to stop me? In case you haven't noticed yet, I totally have you beat in the superpower department. There's nothing you can do to stand in my way."
"I'm going to kick your ass."
Even Vereint was surprised by what he said next. "Geez, but you're cute when you're being stupid."
And though he was loath to admit it, it was actually true.
He'd really tried not to notice, but some part of him had been unable to deny the fact that Blue Ice was actually an incredibly good looking guy. From his perfectly coiffed dark blond hair, his arrogant, coldly handsome face partially obscured by his dark blue mask, and his leanly muscled physique, he was fairly drool-worthy. Except that Vereint refused to drool over him, or at least to admit that he drooled over him.
Because when it came right down to it... Blue Ice was a complete and utter dick.
* * *
He hadn't really been expecting the differences in Starburst/Darkstar's appearance, but there they were.
From musclebound meathead to a more languid kind of grace, Warrick was left feeling as though he was looking at a completely different person. It made him question all his preconceived notions and he really wasn't sure what kind of responses he could expect from this very different looking man.
Warrick didn't know how he could have done it in such a short amount of time, but in just a few months the ex-superhero had slimmed down considerably. He had somehow managed to shed muscle mass and take on a more slender build, not quite feminine, but definitely androgynous to the point of someone questioning his gender if they only saw him from behind. He had also managed to grow out his Richie Rich-esque Captain America hairstyle to the point that his hair brushed his shoulders in a tousled black mane that framed a face that had somehow lost that square-jawed bone-cracker look and become more finely drawn.
If it wasn't for those same searing blue eyes and the fact that he knew it was the same man, Warrick would definitely be questioning whether Starburst had really become Darkstar and wasn't just some completely new asshole.
And the costume change...
That was just a whole new level of surreal.
The guy had completely dropped the whole purple body condom idea that most superheroes embraced and taken on a more... flamboyant fashion sense. Though it was hard to imagine anything gayer than the typical superhero outfit.
He was wearing white leather pants, a bright red shirt that showed off a considerable amount of perfect chest, and for some reason had decided that a white fedora with a red rose in the brim was a good idea, though at least he wasn't wearing it at the moment and had just kind of tossed it on the floor. And though Warrick had tried not to notice, the painted-on-pants look was actually kind of sexy in an unintentionally skanky kind of way.
"Didn't anyone ever tell you that wearing white after Labor Day was kind of gauche?" he asked, putting as much sarcasm as he could into the words. He didn't really know why, but the fact that the asshole was looking so damn hot made him only want to hurt him more.
Darkstar smirked at him. "Who really gives a flying fuck? I'll wear what I want whenever I want and if anyone wants to make a big deal out of it... they can suck my dick."
Warrick couldn't help the way his mouth formed an "o" of surprise. Maybe he'd just been sucked in by the whole Starburst goody-goody douche-baggery, but he really wasn't expecting the guy to have such a dirty mouth. And so pretty too, even when it was spewing out curses.
He shook his head to clear out such irrelevant thoughts. "You look like a cheap rent-boy in that outfit," he said.
Instead of getting angry, amusement filled Darkstar's eye. "I'm sure you have a lot of experience with prostitutes," he said. "But hey, if that's really what floats your boat... well, I'm always willing to try anything once."
It was with a sense of disbelief that Warrick felt a blush coloring his cheeks with heat.
Things were definitely not going the way he'd expected, that was for sure. He had not planned on being on the defensive, not with such a pansy ass, but he was kind of feeling a bit outclassed at the moment.
It was something he really didn't like, and that was putting it mildly.
"What are you doing here, Blue Ice? Here to cause some trouble or something?" Darkstar asked, raising an eyebrow.
Warrick forced some steel into his backbone and glared at the other man. "I'm here to tell you that you're done."
Darkstar snorted. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me. I don't like the thought of you operating in my town, so you're done here."
After a disbelieving moment, Darkstar began to laugh. "Oh my God, you're just too fucking funny. I honestly can't believe that you would ever say anything so completely lame so seriously. Who the fuck do you think you are? The Mayor of Burger Town? And do you seriously think you can make me do anything I don't want to do?"
It took everything Warrick had not to smack the asshole in the face. But just reminding himself that if he did he would probably end up as a smear across the wall kind of helped. "I have to do whatever I can to keep you from screwing up the balance of my town."
"Wow, was that some kind of subtle threat? 'Cause if it was, it wasn't a very good one," Darkstar said, pushing himself up on his couch, though he still looked far too casual for Warrick's comfort. There wasn't an ounce of worry in the guy, just this absolute confidence that no one would be able to touch him. It was kind of infuriating.
"Look, asshole, we don't need another supervillain running around, screwing everything up. So why don't you just pack up all your crap and set up shop somewhere else... somewhere where you don't have to be my problem," he said.
Darkstar just looked at him for a long moment, then smirked. "Dude, I ain't going anywhere. This is my town. Deal with it."
Warrick clenched his hands into fists at his sides. More than anything he wanted to wipe that look off that too-handsome face, but he knew that was a road he didn't want to go down today and maybe not even tomorrow. There were just some battles he knew he wasn't going to win.
"What? You want something else, or are you done trying to tell me my business?" Darkstar said, raising an eyebrow.
"This isn't done," Warrick said, rising up into the air.
"Whatever dude," Darkstar said, his left hand reaching down to pull a folded open magazine out from under the side of the couch.
Leaving the asshole reading his magazine, Warrick flew out the skylight and up into the night sky.
He was halfway across the city before he gave in to the inevitable and started cursing. "Stupid, stupid, stupid..."
He had known better and done it anyway. There was just something about the guy that drove him into ignoring his common sense.
Like there had ever been a supervillain that gave up the life just because they were told to.
Warrick sighed heavily. He really needed to hit a Java Johns and get himself the biggest iced coffee ever. Maybe that would take the edge off his sense of having done something completely stupid by confronting Darkstar. Maybe.
* * *
As soon as he was a hundred percent sure Blue Ice was gone, Vereint tossed aside the magazine and swung up off the couch.
He couldn't believe how nice it had been to tell Blue Ice to stick it. There had just been something so satisfying about wiping that self-righteous look off that asshole's face. It had given him a definite happy.
He walked across the room to the desk he had set up against one wall and dug a sheaf of papers out of the top drawer. It was time for him to come up with some plans.
If there was one thing he had picked up about the whole being a supervillain thing it was that you were only as good as your last evil scheme. And the one he was cooking up now... it looked to be a real doozy.
Covertly glancing around to make sure he was really alone, he let out with his evil laugh. "Mwu-hahahaha!"
Then he sighed. Not quite what he was hoping for, but it was kind of getting there. Still, it was easier to be a bad guy than a good one. And a lot more fun.
Vereint grinned to himself and started to hum as he went about his tasks. It took him a second to realize that the song was "Smooth Criminal," then he had to laugh.
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