“‘And lo, our hero spoke to the crowd ‘Do we really want to lose our kingdom to Tits McGee over there?’ to a resounding cry of ‘Fuck that!’ and-”

“[X], could you lose the profanity? We’re in the presence of gods.”

“Profanity is who I am, [Y].”

“Look!” snaps the hero “My baby and yours are going to be in school together. I know mine has started to shown signs of being enhanced- yours probably will too, soon, if not already.”

The villain doesn’t respond, but by the tightening of xir eyes, the hero knows ze’s hit the mark.

“So,” says the hero “If we don’t want them to end up like us, we have to work together. To protect them.”

“You’re doing this because of xir, right?” the hero asks the villain “Trying to- save xir. Help xir. Xe’s sick- xe’s you lover not your victim.”

“What do you want.” the villain snarls. [Hero] swallows nervously.

“I can save xir. It’s not- not something I advertise. Healing is valuable, I’ve gotten in trouble for it in the past. But for you- for you to do good. I’ll use it.”

Xe sang a sirens song, but not near so graceful. Never meant to enchant or lure, xe belted out agony meant to inspire the worst in people. People turned on people with a chord, and against the world with another.

That’s where you came in- newbie hero, amateur but learning quickly. Profoundly deaf.

bonus prompts



-”Hey. You back with us?”


“Hi! You’ve been looking off into the distance for like, half an hour. Are you tired?”

“Shit, have I been daydreaming again? I’m so sorry my guy I didn’t mean to check out on you. Again.”

-”You look like you’ve been punched in the gut.

“That- Dude. You stabbed me. I’m literally bleeding onto your shoes.”

-”Now now, don’t think you’ll be getting out of this one, dear hero. I’ve watched your previous escapes very carefully- I don’t want to lose you again. I’d hate to have to mar your perfect skin with some kind of permanent tracking device- but I will, if you leave me again.”

-”You look so beautiful, bound like that. Do you have any idea what it’s like, to take such power and master it. You are so beautiful, and so mine.”

-”I’m not going to hurt you. I get it, you’re young and people always look down on you, and you’re sick of it. I get it. But I won’t fight you.”


“Hush. When i was younger than you- a lot younger, I was taken to be a soldier, same as you. There are few weapons more useful than a scared toddler that can crack open the earth. I know you’re capable, and strong, and deserve recognition, i get it, I’ve been there. But I refuse to be like the people that created me.”

-”I’m so glad you’re willing to put up with my annoying niche interests.”

“You’re never annoying and I’m not putting up with you. I love you. And your niche interests.”

-”If I could kill xir all over again, I would. I’d do it slow and look xir in the eye and tell xir it was for you. God, I’m so sorry I couldn’t save you. I’m sorry. But xe’ll never hurt anyone again, okay?”

-”I can’t focus, I can’t work, I can’t- engage. It’s like I barely exist anymore. Like I’m trapped wherever my brain wants me to go. I just want to be real, but everything hurts too much.”

-”Anyway, that sucks but I’m gay and thus immune.”

“That’s not how it works.”

“Anyway. I’m gay. And thus immune.”

-”Who wants some- oh shit I misread the room entirely.”

“Is that pizza? We always want pizza.”

“Is that a body?”


“I didn’t know you were enhanced. Since when have you had powers?” asks the hero softly, looking to xir friend.

“Since forever. They came in young- I can’t remember a time I didn’t have them.” The vigilante snorts softly “I kill, I hurt, I maim. I fight. When I was a kid, I did all that too, but I had to use my abilities for it. That’s all they were for, was hurting, like I was some kind of weapon. I didn’t get to choose. I still use them.” ze says suddenly, looking at zir friend for the first time, eyes luminous with magick xe didn’t know ze had “They’re mine, they’re a part of me. They can be beautiful. And I can choose not to hurt with them.”

There are only a few rules to this game. The first is: Never. Ever. Talk about it.

There’s demons in the sewers calling out to cats and lost children, mermaids swimming in muck with song like grief and hatred, angels over by the bus stations offering peace to the ill and eating the fever warmed marrow.

There are those who can see, the young and curious and old and unlucky, those who know, but you must never talk about it.

The second rule is: There are a lot of things worse than death. Be ready to get it over with if one of those things turns it’s eyes on you.

It’s not as fancy as war spies with their false teeth- knives hidden in the folds of your jeans or a syringe of contaminate drugs in the lining of your bra will do just as well, really. It’s better. And if you’re in the know, you should be beyond fear, anyway.

The third is: that kid over on fifth street should not exist.