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I had more fun writing this story than you can imagine. Read, critique, tell me what you liked and didn't like. Most of all, enjoy!

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The Villain
by Sunaya

A vast mountain range overlooks the grand metropolis of Freedom City. My castle juts out of the side of one of those mountains like a horrible, jagged black sliver. Seven towers rise from its granite whole, each one standing at a different height. The pointed roofs of each tower seem so sharp they could pierce you just by staring at them. Dramatically angular, wing-like protrusions stick out of the sides of some of the towers as decoration. The minimal windows give away nothing about the interior of the castle, save for lots of glowing red light. And, as though the castle needed to look even more sinister, a thin grey mist swirls around the tips of the tallest towers. Anyone besides me could hardly look at the place without feeling a heavy sense of dread on their mind.

Sunshine and rainbows would look out of place next to it.

My name is Mulciber Romero Darnassi. You may have read about me in the papers under that despicable name Destructo, a name that those pathetic parasites who call themselves reporters gave to me. That castle I just told you about is my home, the Lair of Destructo. I’d much rather give it a less clichéd, more honorable name, but any attempts to change it would be futile I’m sure. However, as I sit here in my favorite carved, high-backed chair, my thoughts are not occupied over petty names and courtesies. I have only one thought on my mind: Kill Giga-Man.

“But Mulciber,” you may ask, “Why would an intelligent, good-looking citizen like yourself want to kill Giga-Man?” You may perceive Giga-Man to be a car-lifting, damsel saving, face-punching caped crusader of justice. Running around with that ridiculous, giant gold “G” on his chest, I can understand why the residents of Freedom City think he’s harmless. In fact, many of the citizens think he is actually helpful. They are even erecting a statue in his honor. I might get a small degree of satisfaction from seeing birds expunge themselves on the image of my enemy’s head. Still, it would be far too little, far too late. Only I know the truth about their hero.

Billy Wallace has been a poisonous thorn in my side since the day we met! Perhaps it was fate that we would be mortal enemies. While he has feathery blond hair and wears bright colors, I prefer to don an outfit of pure black. I have dark brown hair, brown eyes, and a really cool billowing cape, black with a red and orange comet emblazoned on it. I wanted to add a full, winged helmet to my costume, but I could not pull off the ‘glowing red eyes’ effect I desired without hindering my vision. Most importantly, though, my costume features a heavy black belt, packed with enough explosives to blow an entire city block to cinders.

You don’t need to know more about me, though. What’s important is that you know the truth about Billy Wallace, aka Giga-Man. He is a horrible man who has been out to make my life miserable since the day we met. It was the first day of school in Mrs. Gillespie’s Kindergarten class at Freedom Park Elementary School. I happened to sit next to Billy during arts and crafts time. He dared me to eat paste. I told him that was silly, but he really wanted to know what it tasted like. He was too chicken to try it himself, of course. Eventually, we started arguing and even shoving until we got in trouble, and had to sit on time out during playtime that day. It was all his fault. It tasted horrible, by the way.

As we grew, I proved to be one of the brightest minds in our class. I soon took on an interest in science, especially chemistry. Although Billy wasn’t nearly as brilliant as I was, he was popular with the other children, and was usually one of the first to be picked for sports teams. When we were fourteen, Billy started to discover his inborn super-strength. It was pretty obvious what he was when that football he threw knocked me clear off my feet, through the library window and into a tall bookcase. This, of course, toppled several other cases over like dominos, covering me in a shower of books. Billy insisted he told me to “catch”, but what would that have accomplished aside from massive internal injuries? My 48 stitches and 3 broken bones cased me to miss the school’s annual Science Fair. As if my situation could have gotten any worse, Billy visited me in the hospital. He put on a pretty good act, almost seeming like he was really sorry about the ‘accident’, and sent me some daisies.

I quickly discovered I was allergic to daisies.

In high school, things were looking up for both of us. Billy was the star of the football team, and I was at the top of our class academically. I had led Freedom City High School to victory in several knowledge competitions. Best of all, I had the most wonderful Chemistry partner a person could ask for. Andrea Stevenson was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen, and intelligent on top of that. She enjoyed massive chemical reactions as much as I did. I enjoyed my afternoons in the lab with her more than anything else. It warmed my heart when she told me she considered me to be one of her best friends.

More than anything, I wanted to ask her out to the prom. I had been planning it for weeks. I casually offered to drive her home, like I had done several times before. As we were driving, I gathered up my courage to ask her. There was a nervous waver in my voice, in spite of the numerous times I had practiced my lines for this encounter.

“A-andrea…” I stumbled, “Would—” My words were cut short by the ear-shattering blare of a horn, coming from a semi-truck that was heading right for us. Andrea screamed, but then we were…up? Something had yanked my car out of harms’ way, then gently placed it back on the ground. I think I knew, even before I saw his ugly, partially-masked face appear in my window. Of course it was him. It was always him. Billy, (though he was calling himself Strengthy Man…what the heck?) had saved our lives, and Andrea was smitten. I couldn’t blame her. How on Earth could I ever beat that spectacle?

Billy soon fully took on the persona of Giga-Man, a name that a doting reporter gave to him. When he took Andrea to the prom, he wore a nice tuxedo and his trademark neon blue mask over his eyes. I sat near the punch bowl, scowling the entire time. When they arrived, Andrea spotted me. She seemed very excited while she was talking to me. I only gave her one-word responses. As they walked past me to the dance floor, Giga-Man leaned down and whispered, “Better luck next time, Mully.” The next day, people were gossiping about the appearance of Giga-Man at the prom, and were wondering why football star Billy Wallace didn’t show up. I sighed.

Billy had wronged me one too many times. I was determined to never let him get the best of me again. I was going to make sure that his “I’m-gonna-be-a-nifty-superhero-and-save-mankind” idea was squashed to the ground. I made my costume. I spent months perfecting my explosive weapons. Also, for the first time in my life, I built myself up physically. I took kickboxing lessons, and visited the gym five days a week. If only Andrea could see me now. Looking at my toned arm muscles in the mirror and wearing my black cape, it was easy to see that I was no longer the scrawny science geek I was in high school. I was a super villain! And I made it look good.

But I wasn’t doing this for Andrea. I became a super villain so I could finally have my revenge against Giga-Man. After a lifetime of torment, I was not going to let Billy Wallace have all the glory. I didn’t want to let the super hero business be easy for him. I knew the best way to catch his attention would be to set a bank on fire. So, I set four of them on fire. That day, the first day of my new life of crime, I met Giga-Man face to face at the largest bank in the city. It was the first time he had seen me in years. “Stop right there, villain!” he shouted oh-so dramatically. I barely held back a laugh.

“It’s nice to see you too, Giga-Man, or should I say…Billy Wallace?” Heroes just love to keep their identities a secret. That name got his attention better than a kick in the groin.

“How do you know my name?” He tried to hide it, but I could still hear the slight tension of fear in his voice. I stepped closer to him, through the smoke of the fire, to give him a good look at my face. I crossed my arms and stared right into his eyes.
“Wait a minute…” he said. “Mulciber? Mully? Valedictorian of Freedom City High School?”

“Mully…no one’s called me that in over five years, Billy.” I punctuated his name with a swift kick to the face. It felt really, really good to do that.

To this day, Destructo has battled Giga-Man 147 times. Somehow, that little squirrel-brained twit always gets away from me at the last second. He saved all four of those banks that day, and somehow managed to tie me up with a bent light post. Thanks to him, I’ve gone to jail (and broken out) more times than I’ve bothered to count. You would think the Freedom City Police force would start to train their guards better after the first dozen break-outs. You would think all of the banks and jewelry stores I’ve robbed would learn to just start leaving care packages for me near the door. But for some reason, the people of Freedom City only seem to get dumber as the days go on. Maybe they’ve grown to rely on Giga-Man saving their sorry butts all of the time.

Remember that statue of Giga-Man that they built? They’re holding the unveiling ceremony for it today, in the park where Billy and I used to play kickball with our friends. I look to my left. A timer on a nearby computer screen reads five minutes and counting. A small monitor is showing a live recording of the ceremony, intercepted from a local news station. The mayor of Freedom City is patiently waiting for Giga-Man to show up. He, the city council, and the hundreds of citizens present have no idea that I’ve hidden over a hundred explosives inside of the statue’s podium. In less than five minutes, they will finally know how foolish they all were to trust in Giga-Man.

I hear a knock on my door. I already know who it is.

If you became a supervillian, Sibby, it would be the coolest thing ever. heart And oh my gosh, thank you so much for reading this. I'm really really glad you liked it!

I made a typo back there and almost called you "Subby". Hee hee. EVIL SUBBY MAN. The guy behind the counter who always puts too much lettuce on your submarine sandwich. FOR EVIL.

Awwwwwe, poor Destructo. ;-;p

I love you guys. Thank you so much for all of your kind words. I'm really glad you like the story! heart heart