Hero & Villain

Lance | 1037w

  I feel fury bubbling up inside of me. Not at Calen for the most part, but at myself. I thought about it while he was asleep and I'm not willing to quit being a "villain" but I also don't think I'm willing to keep fighting and hurting him. It's a dilemma. But if I could get him to quit, it would be solved.

  I want so badly for him to quit because the thought of him getting hurt because of me, or anyone else for that matter, makes me sick to my stomach, and angrier than I have been since I first became a villain.

"All the time?" I hear myself snarl. "And it's not a big deal?! Do you have any sense of self preservation at all or are you just suicidal?!"

  He flinches at my outburst, then a flush takes over his face and his gaze turns hard. "Well forgive me for caring whether people live or die at Macer's hand! And who the hell are you to tell me what to do?! The only version of me you've met is my weakest, the one I loathe with every fiber of my being so don't even say that you know me!" Calen rants vehemently, standing now with his hands clenched into fists.

"Oh you loathe it do you, Kitten?! Well forgive me for helping you through it while you were sobbing and shaking! I like your kitten form better, at least then you're polite and grateful for my help!" By the end I'm shouting, my anger having gotten the best of me.

  I watch as Calen flexes his fists, his dark green eyes suddenly shifting to such a dark brown it's almost black. A second later his wings seem to unfurl behind him, forcing him to pull off the hoodie I loaned him and toss it aside. I realize that I'm no longer facing Kitten or Calen, but Falcon. And Falcon just happens to be my enemy.

  His right wing has a bullet wound near where it connects to his back, blood smeared over some of his otherwise pristine white and brown feathers. It's obviously causing him pain, but his enraged expression shows no sign of it.

"Well the last people who my kitten form trusted beat me to hell and back regularly, which it so foolishly told you, so forgive me for not liking it and not trusting you," His voice was as sharp and piercing as his eyes. "Now I'll you'll excuse me, I have things to do."

  He turned to leave, ignoring the growl that forces its way out of me. "So what, you're just going to fly around with a wounded wing? I guess you really are suicidal," I scoff, looking away from his retreating form, and ignoring the regret I feel for my words. If I could have controlled my temper, he wouldn't be Falcon right now. He would still be sitting on that stool looking small in my hoodie while I set a plate of food in front of him.

  He stiffens at my mocking tone, turning slightly to send me a glare. "And tell me oh wise one, what reason do I have to not be suicidal? I have no family, no friends, I was just tortured for three days, and both my home and my hideout are most likely destroyed. I wouldn't kill myself in this form, it doesn't appeal to me.

"When I'm normal I would be sorely tempted to jump off a building, but this form would come out and I would stop myself from falling. I could try to shoot or stab myself, but the onslaught of emotions would bring out my stupid kitten form, which is too weak and pitiful to ever do something like that. And I could try to drown myself, but who's to say I can't turn into a merman, hm?"

He sneers at me. "So don't talk to me about being suicidal unless you find a way for me to actually go through with it." With that, he runs out the door, slamming it behind him and setting a faint alarm ringing through my house.

I slump to the ground, holding my face in my hands. How could I be so stupid? The next time I see him we will undoubtedly be back to being nothing but enemies. Not that he ever knew we were any different.

I must sit there for almost an hour before my phone rings, shocking me out of my stupor. I roll my eyes, then grab my phone and take a deep breath, ready to tell off whoever it is, but they speak before I can.

"Macer..." a feminine voice purrs. "I know why you're called that."

I stiffen, a scowl overtaking my face. "Oh really. And how would that be," I state humorlessly. I've heard that exact thing twice before.

"Mm," the lady hums, sounding amused. "Short temper I see. You must not have changed much since that first man you slaughtered with his own decorative mace."

I clench my jaw hard, trying desperately to hold back my temper. It's already ruined something for me today, I won't let it ruin another.

She continues. "Randolf, was it? Well, the man I'm after is called Randy. Funny, right?"

I let out a breath, hoping to turn her down, then go wallow in misery under my covers. "I am not interested in your offer."

I'm about to hang up when she cries, "Wait! this Randolf, he deserved to die, yes? He experimented on you and your brother, murdered your brother. Randy deserves any death you could give him. Trust me."

My expression and tone turn icy. "How did you get that information?" I demand.

I hear a faint sigh of relief from the phone. "Randy, the man I want gone. He somehow got a hold of documents showing exactly what he did to make you... how you are. He thinks he can avoid the side effects but it's madness. You understand better than anyone why he must be eliminated."

  I feel a smirk appear on my face, the sudden glow of my blue eyes reflecting off my fridge.

"Where can I find this... Randy?"