Someone knocks the door.

"Who is it?"

"I am the hero, please open up!"

"What do you want? I am retired. I had enough getting beaten by you and your team"

"I just want to talk. Please open up. I brought drinks!"

"What?"

The villain opens the door. The hero is standing there. Holding a pack of his favorite beers in his hands. Trying hard to give the villain a warm smile.

"What are you doing here? Can't a bad guy enjoy his retirement without you do-gooders bothering him?"

"Aren't you gonna invite your old friend inside?"

"Last time you guys almost killed me. Now we are friends?" The villain takes a look around. He does not trust the hero but he is curious to know what it is all about.

"Okay. Come inside."

A few minutes later, they are sitting at the table, watching football and drinking beers. They talk about roaring gas prices, inflation and the good old days when housing was affordable.

Then the hero changed the subject:

"We want you back!"

"Who is we?"

"Me and my team."

"Why is that? Don't you remember why I retired? You made fun of me. You Told me I am incompetent and stupid. You abused me emotionally. Now you want me back?"

"Well, you were kinda clumsy, let's be honest, but I admit we went too far." He continued: "The thing is, the new villain is just too good. He is ruthless, has zero red lines. Only uses practical plans. Not complex stupid ones, and he hates monologues, so far he killed three other heros. We thought he would play with them. Give us time. But he just killed them instantly. And he live streamed their death on social media."

The villain laughed: "Wow. You guys are fucked."

"You were fun. Kind hearted. As much as a villain could be. And had your rules. Like giving us time to rescue our friends, making cool but impractical plans, making last minute mistakes. you know. You did your shit, we did ours and the life went on."

"So to put it plainly, you are facing an unstoppable, ruthless, strong and smart villain and you want me back. Because I am fallible, indecisive, weak and stupid?"

"I would use nicer words.... but technically yes." The hero answered.

"Get the fuck out of my house!" The villain shouted.

"Wait...I swear we will not make fun of you, please. We will try not to beat you up too much."

"Get out!"

"We will pay handsomely. We will be nicer to you. No...no ..."

The villain throw the hero out of his house and shut the door. The hero kept talking from behind the door. There was a can of unopened beer on the table. The villain sat on the sofa, turned the television volume up, popped open the can and took a big sip. It was cold and delightful. Like revenge.

Dear Diary,

I know you're probably tired of me whining all the time but I can't risk telling anyone else. If anyone in my family - especially my brother - finds out, I will become the laughing stock again at dinner.

I didn't sleep a wink last night. I kept meditating on all that I learnt at school. The School of Villainous Arts is no ordinary school. It's definitely way better than the one my older brother goes to, a fact he is still so bitter about. You know how he keeps trying to put me down all the time. Jealousy can be so beautiful, but on him it's just ugly. Anyway, I ruminated about the steps to execute the perfect act of villainy.

Step 1: Choose your target

I decided to target my brother's school, Villanovela. His cruel words lingered in my head all night and I figured the only way I could get back at him was by ruining his day.

Step 2: Choose your method

I know how much he hates the heat. Being born in the hottest country in the world has always seemed to him like a cruel joke played by the universe. So I thought, why not ruin all the air conditioners in his school? Maybe ruin all the fans too? And just for added measure, ruin all electrical sockets in case some smart ass has an electrical fan handy.

Step 3: Use your superpower (in my case, invisibility) to execute your evil plan

I put on my cloak of invisibility and waked in to the school at wee hours to disable all the Air conditioners, sockets and fans. Boy was I fast and artful. I wasted no time laughing at the filthy interiors and amateur techniques highlighted on the board. I was in and out within 30 minutes in time to get ready for my school.

I couldn't wait to tell my classmates about the pitiful state of Villanovela. But more importantly, I couldn't wait to come back home from school to hear my brother moan and become querulous about his scorching hot day at school.

The day passed excruciatingly slowly. Every minute felt like an hour and every hour felt like a day. Finally, at 4 PM, I entered home eager to hear angry sobs from my brother about the state of his school, about how unfair it is that he didn't get into my school, and how he feels like he has heat burns all over his body.

Diary, it was to my utter dismay that I found my brother laying around in pyjamas, sipping iced tea and laughing at the torture chamber game show. Turns out, his school canceled all classes today so they could repair all ACs. Not only did he get a holiday and the chance to stay at home in the air conditioning but turned out there was an assignment due today that he hadn't completed. So I just got him an extra day to do it all while basking in the comfort of home. Ugh. I'm so frustrated.

Anyhow, tomorrow is a new day with new opportunities, but for now I need to figure out what to tell my classmates. I can't risk becoming the laughing stock at school either. I seem to have shot myself in the foot. Hopefully one day I will get better at villainy. Maybe I can spoil the air conditioners at home next time, that will teach him.

"-And after you left me for dead, I crawled myself to a quiet ditch, buried myself, and regrew to my full strength."

Her comicallly shiny boot was spattered with the dark green substance that was my modified blood, and I watched her approach my face like a soccer player.

A flash of light, the sound of distant thunder, the gentle rocking of my pain centers shutting down completely.

A fresh spay of dark emerald, dancing in the misty lights of my bedroom.

"You stupid motherfucker, you didn't think I knew how to get to you?"

The boot again, but I was okay with that; the wetness is just rain, and the sound is just thunder.

"You just thought you could fix the world, you fucking idiot?"

She's sounded so far away, but this was too important to miss.

It was finally happening, and I had to see it through.

"You little pissant, I remember discovering you when you were just some chump who ate dirt, and we changed the world together."

She was on top of me, lightning fast, her talons hooked under chin, severing my tongue from underneath. I had no choice but to meet her cruel gaze.

She was as beautiful as the day I met her

I watched, spine shattered, neck supported by the grace of her strength, as she plucked my eye from my skull.

At the time, I was thankful that my last sight was of her face.

"You're a monster, Eric, and all I want to know before I do the world a favor and put you down, is how you could sleep after what you did to me?"

She doesn't know

That realization pulled from my encroaching rest. I sent a signal to the photoreceptors in my blood, re-activating them.

I didn't need eyes to feel the lights above me, feeding me.

"Mmphfllhgh"

It's hard to talk with a broken jaw.

She withdrew her talon, and moments later my tongue re-attached itself to the base of my mouth.

I coughed, spat a tooth across the floor, and tried to lift my head.

"I did it for you."

Silence.

"I... it hurt me so much to see how this world disappointed you, Cynthia. We could save at most a handful of people at a time, a schoolbus here, or an elevator there, but every time the news mentioned the death toll in Iraq, you shut down."

Strained silence.

"So, Cyn, so I... I did something about it! I knew that you wouldn't, so I did. The nations can't be at war if there aren't any nations, and it remarkable how quickly the world food shortage gets solved when you hang all the figureheads of industry by their guts in public eye."

Thunder

I lost more teeth, but already could feel the new ones forming.

"Bullshit"

She said it like a growl, but I was still alive.

"I'm not just a plant nerd, Cyn, I know more about how you operate than you do. I didn't leave you for dead, I actually killed you."

Her grip lessened, I had truck a nerve, I think.

"But, Cynthia, I knew you would come back stronger. I knew it would take time, and with the amount of damage I did to you that day, I knew I had a twenty-ish year headstart to set it all into motion for you."

As my vertebrae clicked back into place, I lifted my head towards her own. Dim light, but the optic nerves rebuilt quickly.

"Cynthia, who do you think sent Blaze to dig you up? Who would have known exactly where to dig to find you?"

"You're lying."

It was soft, and I knew then that she understood.

"You came back a legend, and finally strong enough to make the changes you wanted. Jaded, maybe, but smart enough now to spot betrayal. You saw though Jolene, and made the hard choice to silence her before she could jeopardize your assault plan here tonight; I was so proud of you, Cynthia."

Full silhouette, darkness and light blending together as my eyes continued regrowing.

I saw the shape of her, and it drawing closer to me.

I thought that she understood.

That she grasped what I had been teaching her, and I could finally rest knowing that the world had a champion who make the hard choices to protect it from monsters worse than myself.

"So... do it, Cyn, this is how it ends. You finally get it, that there are some people that have to die. You know what the world needs, and I can finally stop being this person."

I blinked, once, twice, and on the third I could see again.

She was crying, and holding my face.

"You're insane, Eric. We need to get you help, we can still fix this."

She lifted my mouth to her own, and for the second time in twenty years I doubted myself.

"Cynthia, I can't be cha-"

The kiss wasn't something magical, it just simply was.

It was everything in that moment, and as my chest cavity uncollapsed, I rose to my feet holding her in that embrace.

"Eric, I love you, please let me help y-"

But it's hard to talk with a broken jaw.

I held her face in my hands, and as the nourishing light above shone on I squeezed those hands togther until all that was between my fingers was a pulpy mash.

I regarded the love of my life, smeared on my palms.

"I can't be rehabilitated, Cynthia, but maybe in twenty years, you will be."

Since then I've kept her under my floor in my bedroom, in my fortress, in my empire, on my conquered world. I hear her sinews reknitting in the dead of night, a sound like dry worms coiling on themselves. My advisors (the filthy opportunistic animals that they are) have been kept unaware, and I have no plans of tipping them off. One day, decades from now, she will spring from Earth like a vengeful god, and there will be no stopping her wrath.

Truthfully, I barely stopped her last time, and my conviction grows wary as each day passes.

I fear of monsters more awful than I.

Some of the whispers I hear from below the floorboards make me worry that whatever is preparing to climb out might not be Cynthia anymore.

Regardless, she will do better, because the world doesn't need a figurehead of redemption. The world, this horrifying dystopia that suppresses all facets of art, culture, and identity; it doesn't deserve to be redeemed.

It needs a Hero.

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