Pauline was sat on the trunk of her custom painted (off-white and rust) Camry. It was getting late. She had driven out here, to the worst-polluted beach in town, and parked with the boot towards the ocean so that she could watch who came and went. That job had passed hours ago and now she watched the day run out.

The Sun had set — was swallowed whole by the ocean — and the wasted hours were getting to her. A feeling which was exasperated by the waves and their gentle cooing pleas to remain cool-headed...

Shhhh. Shhhh. Shhhhh.

Pauline hated being told to calm down. Hated it.

Her eyes were on the hazy golden dregs of unfinished daylight and she watched as the coming night slowly slurped it up. Late. The backs of her sensible sneakers took turns to bounce off her cars already dented rear fender — each passing second was gifted a short yet firm kick.

Her contact was late. Very late.

Beyond being a boredom-based bumper-beating metronome, Pauline works as a self-employed investigative journalist...which in this day and age means she has a blog and a lot of student debt. There had been a few freelance gigs and her bills were often paid by baristary, but what she wanted — what she really really wanted — was to be a hard-hitting, truth-touting, blow-this-shit-wide-open journalist.

She just needed a story. She had the chops. She could word good. Could word well, even! And folks seemed to like her in-depth and well researched takes...but she needed...substance?

And now, after networking and investigating and work upon work? A lead! Someone had something for her. Something big. The photos were a good start and Pauline had organised this clandestine meetup, just like a seasoned professional. You never know who you’re going to meet at the beach, right? At the beach no one goes to because it smells weird. Anyone notices us and it’s just a random chance meeting, but who would see us at Stinky Beach?

Late afternoon was the agreed upon time.

And by the thin strip of day that floated on the ocean...it was very very late afternoon. And when that went, so would Pauline.

The journalist was knocked off her car by something hitting her in the side of the head.

It was the word “Hey” spoken by a calm voice from a form that had arrived without warning. Pauline stood up, brushed herself off and squinted at the woman who had scared her half to death. Long dark hair, white business blouse, waist-cinched black pants, and an expensive set of heels. Corporate. Not boardroom, but definitely big-business.

Beyond this new arrival was the silent chariot with which they had secretly secreted themself: one of those new and shiny chic electric cars. Big big-business bucks.

“I left my phone at home like you suggested.” Said The Contact.

“Your car is covered in cameras and has GPS, Dingus.” Is what Pauline thought. What she said was: “Good.”

[wc: 500]

One day I'll get one with a resolution!

HIPPOBOT 9000 v 3.1 FOUND A HIPPO. 89,978,631 COMMENTS SEARCHED. 1,998 HIPPOS FOUND. YOUR COMMENT CONTAINS THE WORD HIPPO.

An unidentified but familiar pop caught Abigail’s attention. It was followed by a fizzy hiss, and door and wall muffled words of happiness — so it wasn't an electrical blowout. Now, she was very busy and the sample on the microscope slide wouldn’t last too long...but, she wouldn’t be a scientist without a little curiosity. She pushed away from the workbench and the stool rolled her across her lab to the shared door that gave quick access to the room next door.

Alas, proximity had offered no clarity to the words beyond and so she was forced to knock politely and wait. A moment and the door swung open to a smiling scientist of average height, with a conically-hatted head, and a brown-grey moustache. A fellow called Richard.

“Abigail!” It seemed a merry surprise indeed that he should find her here...despite being lab-neighbours for fourteen years. Abigail’s eyes fell to Richard’s hands and she remembered his inabilities regarding alcohol. In one tight grip was a half-filled champagne flute and in the other was a sensibly-priced bottle of low alcohol Prosecco.

She was wondering if dealing with a tipsy Richard was worth it when he shouted her name again. “Abigail!”

“Richard.” She did not match his enthusiasm, had in fact remained seated on her stool. “Sounds like a toast to success. What’s the breakthrough?”

“Well! Why don’t we show you!”

The We — Richard’s research and life partner, Ingrid — was in the center of the lab, her back to the door. Her head tilted back and a champagne glass crested for a moment and disappeared. Ingrid’s attention was on something at her feet to which she was cooing and baby talking in Dutch.

“Come in, come in!” Richard turned and walked away.

Abigail took a moment to wonder how rude it would be to keep rolling along on her seat. She sighed, slapped her knees and stood, but then stepped back, tripped on the stool and toppled backwards.

At the sound of her hands hitting flesh, something small and dark had darted around Ingrid and bolted at Abigail. She was staring at the ceiling and marveling at human reaction times, she hadn’t even gotten a good look at whatever it was, and she had reacted.

She also wondered if the eerie, questioning calm she felt was born of a sense of embarrassment or head trauma. And then she saw a face.

A round, brown-grey, squishy little face with a pair of kind eyes and flaring nostrils. Abigail blinked and the creature she knew to be a Hippo said: “Mump!”

As she sat up the small Hippo, no bigger than a large cat, bopped her face with its own, licked, said many quick mumps and then crawled into her lap.

“A baby hippo?”

“No.” Said the couple in unison as they cheersed another pair of overflowing fizziness.

“A Micro-potamus.” Said Richard, who then gulped his bubbly.

“Completely hypo-allergenic," Said Ingrid "Only needs a bit of a pool, but likes dry-land, loves people, and grows no bigger than that.”

“We’sh gonna be shhoooo rich!” Said Richard in a swiftly sauce-born slur.

Welcome to the Prompt! All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.

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Wow! Talk about hostile work environment!

"Don't forget what?"

"Seriously?"

30 minutes have stretched into a week in my brain as I sit, immobile, across the old interviewer in the blazer. He keeps looking at me with skeptic eyes, of constant disbelief of what he’s seeing across him. I know his image of me. Void black, messy hair is most likely code for “secretly commits murder”. The Birthday Party shirt I’m wearing means I’m a cultist who sold her soul to Lucifer through my first rock vinyl. And oh, those fishnets? Those mean my veins are seasoned with drugs and booze.

“Can you show me the tattoo on your arm?”

I’m woken up from my trance for a second, just to move my body aside a bit. In my arm, Musidora as Irma Vep is immortalized, her arms stretched to the air.

“What does she mean to you?”

“...She’s just beautiful. Have you seen Les Vampires?”

He shakes his head silently.

“Have you ever considered the violent iconography of the musicians you follow?”

He starts flipping a clipboard full of examples - half of which are metal bands I’ve never heard of. What the hell does Judas Priest even have to do with this, I ask myself? I hear him spew “witchcraft” and “vulgarity” and “suicide” as he flips through album covers. I crack a smile to the cover of Siouxsie’s Juju album, which gets him saying:

“Do you sympathize with all of this?”

I stare at him for a few seconds before he turns his head away. I doubt what I meant is clear.

Gosh, dude. What a joke.

“That brings me to my next point, actually. Could you try to actually answer a bit more this time?”

“I guess…”

“Okay then… Do you believe that, uh… Since becoming a part of this subculture, your psychological state has been affected?”

“Oh, definitely.”

He stares attentively this time, and motions to ask for more words.

“Yeah, I believe I've been. Because now, I get bullied every time someone in my class catches me outside of school, and my parents keep yelling at me that I should dress proper and cover my skin and whatnot, and old ladies keep stopping in the street and talking some stuff about the end times and everything and… Well, guess it does affect me cause now everyone wants me dead, including myself, but that’s not my fault, is it?”

“But you do admit-”

I stand up angrily. “Ugh, goddamnit. How does this even help your article, dude? Just say I eat babies and spray me with holy water, will you? I’m done with this crap.”

I hear the interviewer call my name as I go to my room, as well as Mom rushing to the living room as I close the door. I can hear her saying “I'm sorry about her”. Hell, I can imagine the man’s article’s words. Something, something, devil worship, goths are crazy, kill ‘em all. I bury my head in my pillow as I realize this changes nothing.

Gosh… What a joke.

My hand wrapped around dark rubber and metal, finger stuck to cold steel. I'm in... somewhere dark, somewhere new? As I come to my realisation. I have no idea where I am and what I'm do-The door behind me breaks open with force as a tall silhouette with a deep voice states, "There's no body, explains the lack of a gunshot"

"What?" I ask, confused.

"He did it again, didn't he?" He moves past my question.

"Who? Did what? Where am I and who the f-"

Two large hands clasp each side of my head, my eyes adjusting to the dark as his gray mustache and steel rimmed aviator glasses peer into view. "You can see me, but you have no clue who I am do you? He got you good." he enjoys a chuckle at my confused expense.

He lifts an image of a beautiful South Asian woman with a gentle smile and bright eyes, the same eyes that bore into my soul after a bullet did the same to her skull, my wife. My dead wife. Before I instinctively swing I remember her killer, the media dubbed him 'Puppet'. After he did the deed he took a second to realise. He graciously let me know he didn't mean to do it, he had no control over his actions. He was hypnotized. I only asked if he knew what he was doing, his eyes said no before his mouth, the only thing that stopped him speaking was the introduction I made from my knife to his gullet.

Looking at the photo I gingerly slip into my top pocket wishing I was dreaming but out it came, the puppeteer. An aged, mono-browed face with greying hair and a beard a only a modern magician would wear.

Without even looking at Rich I turned immediately in the direction Professor Jilter ran, we're high up and that fire escape goes nowhere. I finally have that bastard, I finally have him. As I clamber out the window I'm met with a green glow swishing from left to right, a cornered jilt-

That sweet beautiful music, her hair is so beautiful as she dances in that gorgeous white dress. Definitely coming off later toni-

A gunshot rings in my ear as this old washed up magician drops on the ground, his mono-brow split by a hold, my stomach can't handle this. My dinner tries it's return as I turn around and see her.

Rich stares at me checking if I remember, when he sees I do he tells me.

"I have told you. Time and time again. Do. Not. Forget. You're lucky we got him this time."

"You got him, Rich. I only wish I got to him first." I spoke, slightly dejected.

"We both took revenge, you just got justice" he says with a reassuring smile.

"Chinese?" He asks as he turns away.

"Chinese." I affirm, following him.

"Have you?"

I can feel him roll his eyes at me. He's an eye-roller. He has been since before we met; his mother told me so. It's cute, sometimes. Other times it's very satisfying, because it means I'm getting his goat.

"I suppose there's no point in telling you you've made that same crack a million times before," he says.

This is the part where "Have I?" would be cheap and easy. I'm not cheap and easy. He's earned everything he's gotten, and he will continue to do so for as long as we're together.

"No, I suppose not," I reply. "Quite the conundrum. You do know the definition of insanity, though?"

"As much as you know that no quantized bit of spacetime is identical to any other."

"Oh? Do I?" I do. I'm majoring in chemistry, but every nerdy girl knows some little tidbits of pop science. They're a good way to bridge the gap between us and the normies.

My Ralphie's not a normie, though. He's a different kind of nerd. He loves that I can play with him. Our little games are fun - so fun, in fact, that I genuinely can't remember what I'm not supposed to be forgetting, over and over. Perhaps it's that key to his dorm room that I'm not supposed to have. That could get either or both of us in trouble. I suppose it's okay that he's taking it so seriously. I should look for it today.

He huffs, marking strike two. I smile to try to placate him. "It seems to me that my terrible memory rather cuts against the relevance of that statement. At best, I'm stuck in a moment. At worst, I'm forgetting more and more. While the latter means I'm still changing, it suggests a form of ultra-insanity that you're doing the same thing over and over again when you reasonably ought to expect a worse result every time."

There's a silence. I wasn't expecting that.

"And you know, I'm just not sure I can marry a man who's ultra-insane. I only signed up for the regular octane."

I rub the ring. Hrm. Odd. It feels very thick... and the tiny stone is off center. Ah well. It's not like I care much about jewelry anyway. Ralphie spent too much. It's nice that "too much," for me, was not very much. I want us to spend money on other things - more important things. We'll have a house. We'll have children. The wedding, well, that's another thing I don't really care much about.

I hear Ralphie get out of his chair. I get a little excited. He's coming over to either scold me or kiss me. It's never both. The game continues, or it ends. We have fun. I just worry about his parents. Surely, they'll be coming home soon. They're very nice people, but not the type who are okay with their son and his fiance cavorting around on their furniture.

I feel his hand on my shoulder. The touch is soft - almost shaking, actually. He must want to end the game. I'm going to get a kiss.

An old man slowly kneels in front of me. Ralphie's father? Uncle?

"I'm sorry," I say. "What's going on? I didn't realize anyone else was home. Where's Ralphie? Where's my Ralphie?"

"I'm right here," the old man says. "And I'm sorry, Annie. I shouldn't keep saying it. It's selfish. But it's time for your medicine, and then dinner, and then a bath. We have to get started. It takes a long time to end our days, these days."

"I... I don't..." I feel the ring again. It's two rings. I don't want to look down, but I do anyway. Those aren't my hands. They're wrinkly. They're old. But also, there's a wedding band below my engagement ring. Oh, my. I am so happy, so sad, and so scared, all at once.

"Ralphie," I ask, "what have I forgotten?"

"Not that I love you," he says, "or that you love me."

The voice is still Ralphie's. It becomes clear the moment I look away. It's not just about the sounds, you see. It's about the emotions. Ralphie's father thinks I'm delightful, but he doesn't love me like that. Ralphie's uncle... well, I'm not quite sure whether he has one or not.

I'm vaguely aware of the fact that he's lying to me - not about who he is, but about how precious things will endure. I smile, I think. I can't help it. I'm always having silly little thoughts - thoughts like, Well, I suppose almost everything must be, then. A lie, that is.

"No... never that," I reply.

It feels good to say it. It feels like a little game. I don't know if I want him to kiss me, though. I don't think I want this game to end.

The main thing is keeping the main thing the main thing

I sit silent at the top of the stairs. It's morning, after both Scarlett and I slept in the same bed together, myself wrapped in her arms. She wanted to talk to her dad how she wants me to be with her forever, so she's gone down the stairs of her mansion, myself eavesdropping.

"Daddy!"

"Oh, hey sweetheart!" Her dad goes to hug her. "Did Gavin try to hurt you?"

"No, daddy. He actually told me that last night was the first night in a while that he hasn't had a nightmare! He feels safe with me!" Scarlett's voice drips with excitement.

Her dad sighs. "I have told you, time and again. Do. Not. Forget."

Scarlett looks down at the ground as she finishes his sentence presumably. "Humans are dangerous beasts that seek to destroy our kind."

"That's my girl!" He picks her up into a big hug. "Humans are good at putting on a front. They can pretend to accept us as much as they want, but it could all be a big lie."

"Then why the party?" Scarlett snaps back.

"Because one way or another, we're celebrating the sunset of a new era... whether that's humans accepting vampires or vampires eradicating humans, we are now free..."

"I think you're being too harsh, daddy. If anything, humans are small, weak and easy to manipulate! You really think they'd try fighting back?" Scarlett scoffs.

"Dumb ones might" I interject. "But ever since the news of vampires existing came out, they were found to be hiding everywhere, with several humans already knowing of their existence but choosing to keep it quiet. Most people will know that if vampires wanted to, we'd be gone already!"

Scarlett and her dad stare at me. Scarlett speaks first. "I thought I locked the door!"

"You did. I'm a pretty good lockpick. I know what your father thinks about humans, so when you said you were going to talk to him, I got scared..."

"And you're now fine? After hearing our chat?" The dad raises an eyebrow.

"Depends. Are you willing to give humans a chance? Nothing good will come out of you attacking them, I promise." I look directly into his eyes.

He shakes his head. "I lost my wife to a human... it's hard for me to trust your kind..."

"People will kill other people. They'll abuse animals and children. Women are sometimes violated. Humans as a species are just bad. It's not personal."

The vampire chuckles. "That's a strange way to try and convince me to trust your kind. Telling me that you're all just monsters. I'd assume you're not an 'evil human'?"

"Cross my heart. What can I do to prove it?" I look at him hopefully.

He walks over to a door in the wall and opens it, revealing all sorts of 'anti-human gear'. He pulls out what looks like a chastity belt, as well as what looks like some sort of blood-pressure pump? "What do you think of my daughter?"

"Oh, she's lovely and sweet... though possessive..."

"Eh, don't take that to heart, you're probably the first human who she's been able to get near while they knew she was there. I never understood her obsession with humans, but she often told me the first human male to trust her would belong to her. On that note, I'm giving you a choice: you leave my mansion and never come near me or my daughter again, or you're my daughter's mate for life. Make your choice."

I look at the belt and pressure pump on the ground. I notice Scarlett trying to contain her excitement as she holds the potion that would allow me to live forever. I contemplate my options.

"I... I want to get to know your daughter more before I make any decisions..."

The dad smirks. "Right, humans 'date', don't they? Around here vampires just all know each other... regardless, you like my daughter, she's already attached to you... why do you insist on waiting?"

"What if I say 'yes' and it turns out we don't get along as 'mates'?" I fire back. Risky, but I have to try something.

He strokes his chin. "You're living with Grit's family currently, aren't you?" I nod. "If I give you time, you won't leave?"

I realise I had never thought about if I want to go back to the city. I dismiss the thought quickly. "No, I won't leave town."

"Good. I'm sure you'll be seeing a lot more of my daughter." He winks at me.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________

This story is a part of my series, My Roommate is a Vampire. Please check it out!

[removed]

Welcome to the Prompt! All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.

Reminders:

>* No AI-generated reponses 🤖 >* Stories 100 words+. Poems 30+ but include "[Poem]" >* Responses don't have to fulfill every detail >* [RF] and [SP] for stricter titles >* Be civil in any feedback and follow the rules

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[deleted]

"Okay Bea, you can do this," she said, trying to psyche herself up for the absolute worst part of her job. A journalist sometimes required doing things that were unseemly, disgusting, or even illegal, which was why they hired out work to freelancers like Bea. She wondered how much legwork they actually did before they made enough to hire out the dirty work.

Bea opened the dumpster and quickly stepped back, not believing the smell could be that bad. She had not been dumpster diving before today and the offer had been pretty damn generous on paper; five hundred dollars was hard to turn down. But after this she knew she was going to update her Fiverr profile to exclude this specific activity.

The first part of the job was just to hang out near the hotel where some guy was staying at. Bea did not know his name but the email had come with a picture of his face and that was all Bea needed. The second part was to make sure the guy was actually staying at the hotel and Bea had taken inspiration from one of her favorite spy novels about how to do that; she'd printed out the picture and went up to the front desk of the hotel, asking about a room and showed the picture, saying she had a restraining order against him and wanted to know if he was here before booking. The young man behind the counter said something about privacy concerns but also said that she might be more comfortable seeking other accommodations with a sincere nod. Bea took that as confirmation.

The third and final task was to wait for trash to come out of the hotel and look through it for anything that might incriminate him. The sun was hidden behind the horizon at this point as she looked inside the dumpster, holding her breath against the stench, and winced at the idea of climbing into it. There was so much garbage, and she had no way of knowing which of it was his.

Bea donned a pair of gloves and a long sleeved T-shirt, which she tucked into the gloves and into her jeans. The less she touched anything the better. After climbing in, she began to rummage round and decided that she was definitely going to exclude dumpster diving from all future gigs. She was already well seasoned in filth so she was going to finish this one but never again.

After almost an hour, and after scattering garbage all over the alley, Bea left and tried not to gag at the stench clinging to her clothes. She would need to burn all of it and take a bath in battery acid or something. While walking away she texted the client and let them know that she could find nothing; the guy was clean.

At least one of us is. she thought wryly.

---------------
WC: 486
r/TomesOfTheLitchKing
Edited for crit feedback

Revised Version

"Thank you all for coming." Senator Rich Crook smiled through his false teeth at the crowds of reporters stuffed into the press room. He wore an immaculate suit. His dark hair was seasoned with just a touch of its actual gray, arranged by professionals to make him look every inch like a competent politician.

"I've called you here today to make a formal announcement." He settled himself at the podium, placing his hands on each side of the flimsy stand, "The senatorial committee for governmental transparency, of which I am the chair, has decided by unanimous vote, that it is in the governments best interests to stop wasting time and money hiding our obvious and well-known corruption. From now on, we will do whatever we like without consequences, as usual, but we'll no longer pretend that we're not."

He flashed his smile for the cameras and raised his hand in a stoic, yet friendly wave, "Any questions?"

Like chickens when the feed tube opens, a dozen heads bobbed up and squawked. The Senator pointed to the loudest of the bunch.

"Cash Clickbait here, Weekly Whiner. What will this mean for the upcoming vote on social security?"

"Great question." The Senator leaned forward, "Under this new ruling, we can freely admit that we've completely gutted social security to pay for private jets, summer mansions, and a very elite, hidden resort that only the ultra-rich have access to. I'd like to praise the public for their generous trust in the program and to give them my personal thanks for all their contributions. Next question,uhhh, yes, you."

"I. D. Seller, from This-Newspaper-Is-Brought-To-You-By-GEICO-GEICO-You-Can't-Escape." The young man paused to catch his breath, "How will this affect the next senatorial race? With this new transparency system, aren't you afraid of senate seats being lost, or even replaced by independents?"

"No." Senator Crook shook his head, "Due to the Each Vote Matters bill that passed last year, it's impossible for votes to actually matter. With unfair gerrymandering and the strategic removal of voting locations, we can secure every senate seat until military medical technology can no longer keep us alive. Now you, miss?"

"Unpaid Intern, Doom and Gloom Gazette." The young woman squeaked, "Um, uh, how will this affect, uh... the economy?"

The senator gave her a reassuring smile, "The Economy, as you know, is simply a measure of how quickly the upper class harvests money from the uneducated public. Thanks to ineffective financial regulation, the economy will continue to grow until we bleed the country dry. Then the upper class will use insider information to bail on the market right before the crash."

More hands went up and more squawking chickens clamored for a sound byte, but the senator just held up his hands and waved, "Sorry. That is all the time I have for today. It's just passed sundown and I have to fly to Hawaii for a senatorial ethics committee which is just golf and wine tasting. Thank you all, goodnight!"

Assumptions | (201 words)

Katherine sat hunched over her laptop, the world of pastries and coffee around her no more than a delicious afterthought. Her fingers glided easily across the ergonomic surface of her keyboard that her eyes never even focused on once. She had been doing this for years, and yet, this post she was writing...

... was interrupted by the local barista placing her latte down next to her. "Miss, your drink."

She didn't spare him so much as a glance, even as he continued to stand there, waiting for who-knew-what. When she realized he wasn't budging, her typing slowed to a halt and she dragged her gaze up to his goatee'd face. "... what?"

"You're here every day. I was just wondering-" Katherine picked up her cup and took a sip of her latte. She set it down with a loud *CLINK* and went back to typing, not sparing him another glance. "... wow," he muttered under his breath. He turned on his heels and walked away.

In another time or place, Katherine might have cared about how rude she appeared. But this bombshell wasn't going to write itself, and her twenty followers relied on her to give them an unbiased perspective on cutting-edge news!

"Five years I've been doin this job, Five years!"

"And not one promotion?"

"Not even a hit. It's always Charles, clean the Parana tank, Charles polish the Mega-Laser... Never Charles, how are Mossy and the kids... you know she turned 9 last week?"

"9 already? The time really flies!"

"I missed her party though.... when that stupid agent decided to crash his plane into the Satelite dish... I was picking up rubble off the cliff for hours. Didn't even get the overtime we were promised...."

"Can't you file a report?"

"File a report? Are you insane? Don't you remember the last guy who 'Filed a report'? I had to clean up the mess!"

[deleted]

##Experimental Medicine

Mary sat on the park bench as the sun set behind her, eating a bag of seasoned oyster crackers. A figure wearing a long trench coat and a fedora sat next to her. The figure looked away.

"Did you come alone?" They had a deep raspy voice. Mary nodded her head. "Good. Did you see the story on Dr. Tyler in the City Times?"

"I wrote it."

"You need to issue a correction. Dr. Tyler doesn't just run a clinic for low-income people. He's a sick twisted man who runs experiments on the most desperate."

"How come I've never heard of it?" Mary asked.

"Because we're too ashamed to show ourselves." The figure lifted their head. The face was a woman's with multiple patches of skin sewn to it. Her left eyelid was held shut by a metal rod. Her neck was covered in slash marks. "My whole body is like this."

"Oh my god."

One week later, Mary hid in the bushes by Dr. Tyler's office. He locked the office door behind him as he left none the wiser. She persuaded the building supervisor to give her a master key in exchange for favorable reviews of his other properties. After waiting several minutes, she entered his clinic.

She tried to find a room that she hadn't seen on her previous visit where he tortured people. The first door she checked was a janitor's closet. When she opened it, she discovered a mop and cleaning supplies. The backwall was cracked and pushing it revealed a staircase.

At the bottom of the staircase was a laboratory with a table in the middle of the room. She turned on the light and screamed at the sight of his handiwork. A human body was on the table with its torso cut open. She moved closer to inspect it, and she found it completely hollow. Looking around the room, she saw jaws with internal organs inside of them. In the corner of the room, bones hung on a rack with liquid draining off of them. The scene was too much for her, and she vomited on the floor.

After taking several photos of the gruesome scene, she left in a hurry. In the alley, she collided with Dr. Tyler. He laughed as he helped her up.

"Sorry about that." He tilted his head at her. "Mary, what are you doing here?"

"Monster." She slapped him in the face and ran. Dr. Tyler looked at where she came from and realized she knew his secret. He chased her for several seconds but quickly gave up.

The next morning, Dr. Tyler's sadistic activities were on the front page of the City Times. The police went to his clinic to arrest him, but he disappeared. He left the unfortunate results of his experiments.

r/AstroRideWrites

I sat on my throne, the sky above darkening as the eclipse my plans hinged on began. The doors to the vast chamber I occupied flew open, the Hero stepping through them, determination burning in their eyes. Seeing them I sighed and rose to my feet, gripping my spear and readying myself for the coming fight.

"Well, I see you've finally made your way here, where's the rest of your party?"

The Hero took another step forward, hand hovering just above their sword, "dealing with the rest of your constructs."

"To be expected I suppose, with that question out of the way, let us begin," I said, leveling my spear at the Hero.

"No."

"I'm... sorry?" I was bewildered and lowered my spear a little.

"Listen, I heard about who you used to be." Those words set me on edge, and my grip on my spear tightened.

"I don't know exactly how you got to be where you are now," the Hero continued, "but maybe I get it, maybe you're not as bad as you think. Maybe you can change," they urged.

"Oh child, you don't understand, I've lost too much to turn back now, and even if I could I'm too far gone, there is no saving my soul."

"I don't want to kill you if I can help it," they said, closing their grip around their blade.

"I'm afraid you can't," I said, lunging at them with all the speed I could muster. The Hero blocked my strike with their sword, both of our weapons glowing with conflicting energies. The both of us pushed off of each other before lunging at each other again, the sound of our blades colliding ringing through the room as the eclipse continued toward its climax. As we crossed blades again they backed away another step, launching a feint I was unable to see for what it was until they'd already kicked me so hard I flew into the wall behind me.

"Very good..." I said as I caught my breath, "but if you want to stop me, you're going to have to kill me!"

I launched myself at them again, and this time, instead of locking blades with me, they parried my strike and used the window it gave them to slice at my shoulder. I grimaced but the wound wasn't that deep. I moved to strike at them again, but the wound in my shoulder apparently slowed me down more than I thought it would and they were able to easily dodge, giving me another shallow wound, this time on my abdomen.

"What don't you get? If you don't kill me, everyone, including your friends die!"

Those words seemed to spark something in them, and they came at me, I managed to deflect their strike, but they didn't let up, unleashing a flurry of attacks that I was more than happy to return. As the two of us sprinted through the chamber trading blows, each of us accumulated more and more wounds, until the two of us both stood opposite each other, wounded and panting.

"Please, you don't have to do this," they said desperately.

"Yes, I do," I said, readying myself to strike at the Hero one last time as they, reluctantly, did the same. The two of us charged at each other, and I felt the blade pierce through my heart. I dropped my spear and nearly fell to the ground before the Hero caught me.

"Why? Why did it have to end like this?" they asked, tears beading at the edges of their eyes.

I coughed up some of my blood, "b-bad luck on your end, if you'd gotten to me earlier, maybe you could've changed things."

The two of us stood there for a moment, and I could feel myself slipping away.

"Perhaps," I said, "in another time, in another life, I could have called you friend."

Then the world went dark.

​

I didn't expect to open my eyes, but somehow, impossibly, I did. I didn't recognize where I was, didn't even recognize my own body, at least 20 years younger than it had been, even the architecture around me was foreign, the figure in front of me though, I recognized them, it was the hero. They smiled and good-naturedly elbowed me,

"Bro, we doin' this?"

"I... I err..."

"Come on! I swear you pick the worst times to space out! You're lucky we're best buds, Damian!"

"That, my friend, is true," I gave a small smile.

"Now," they split the stack of papers they had in their hands into two, and gave me one, "I'll take the east side of town, you take the west, that sound good?"

I took a look at the papers in my hands, advertisements for a band. My hands tensed up, it had been a literal lifetime since I'd played, since those carefree days. I took another look at the person in front of me and smiled.

"Yes. Yes that does sound good."

'Morning Jim"

"Morning Phil"

"What are you working on today?" Jim asked while he continued to fill his HenchCo water bottle from the tap.

"you remember that big ransom we got last month, 250 million?" Phil replied while he waited to fill up his bottle

"yea, boss was very happy with that- hope that trickles down so we can get some upgrades, you know the doors on levels 2 and 3 don't slide open any more, the hydraulics or something, we had to force them open with a block of wood?" Jim said while screwing his bottle lid on

"oof thats tough, makes us looks stupid when those 'good guys' come around also, but this is what I'm talking about, you know Gordon from the death ray team?, He is still running excel on windows 95, He put an order for a yellow birthday cake, got sent yellow cake uranium, boom! dead!" Phil stepped up and started to fill his bottle

"Ok what's this to do with the ransom?" Jim said looking up at the notices pinned up on the wall

"ok, ok so get this, the ransom guy pays us in Bitcoin, Gordon thank god was on hand to set up a bitcoin wallet, boss has no clue, thought they were going to get real coins, ransom guy gets released, Bitcoin all safe and sound, Bam! Gordon dies, boss trys to get into the Bitcoin wallet, uses all the trys, wallets locked, we cant get the coins"

"ah shit" Jim takes a small notice off the board for the sale of a toboggan "kids want to go to the snow before the boss melts it all" he responds to Phils raised eyebrow.

"so any way" Phil stands up "now ive got to go kidnap a few dozen computer science guys to try crack it and get the cash or the virus team don't have the funding to keep the next 'super virus from going world wide" safe under lock and key.

Jim waves for Phil to go first towards the lifts

"did the Virus team say how it was being spread" Jim asks while hitting the lift button.

"Ah water I think" Phil responded idly while looking at the number on the lift door slowly move.

Phil and Jim move to the side as the lift doors open and a figure in full hazmat gear steps out and walks down the hall.

"you know maybe we go out and get a coffee today?" Phil says while looking down at his water bottle

Interesting!

"Have you heard back from Larry recently?"

"Not since last week, poor guy is going to be out for at least 6 months. When Nova Knight threw him against the wall his back got messed up real bad."

"At least the insurance plan is taking care of-"

"That's the thing, it's not. Because we were ambushed at 5:30 it's considered beyond working hours. Admin claims it's a personal problem"

"Unbelievable..."

"I know."

" Sometimes I really wonder if it's all worth it. My old college buddies work in tech and they easily clear 6 figures. The company benefits are amazing, one office has a full time barista. Any drink you want, any time imagine that."

"Well at least we got water!" Simon chuckled as he slapped the water cooler. " I guess the grass is always greener."

"No, I'm serious !" Will remarked. " I really wonder if it's worth it sometimes. At my college career fair Dr. Wrath sold me the world. He told me I could make a difference. That I could a part of something that would make the world a worse place. What have we accomplished so far?"

" Well we changed the planets atmosphere to raise global temperature 0.9 degrees Celsius."

"Half the world believes that was due to natural causes or doesn't believe it in the first place!"

"How about the assassination of Captain Justice?"

"Come on, the guy was retired. If it wasn't for us heart disease would've done the job."

"..." Simon agreed but couldn't think of a response.

In the brief silence. A figure appeared strolling down the hallway. Tall and slender it was Dr. Wrath. The fabric of his clothes seemed to absorb the light, casting a shadow over everything around him. His black trench coat obscured his shape rendering him to look like a stick of black licorice, although no one dared to make the joke.

"Back to work boys! The economy is not going to destabilize itself." Dr. Wrath stated as he walked past the men neither breaking stride nor making eye contact.

Simon and Will gave each other a look and parted ways back to their desks. The day was young and so were their careers. The easiest thing for them in the moment was to do as they were told. At least they were not in Larry's position.

Kira and Koichi