Misery walked through the cave, tossing the shimmering blue spell orb in his hand. He then shoved it into his inventory and looked at the description in his menu.

Mana Storm (Legendary) - Creates the weather condition ‘mana storm’ for one day. ‘Mana storm’ slowly drains the mana of all users in the area. The storm spreads and grows stronger as it absorbs more mana.

Damn, it was a freaking weather spell. Probably one of the worst of the legendaries. Well, if someone were to cast it near the Hero HQ, that could be kind of funny.

He walked casually, a few paces behind Bona Fide, who, in his infantile rage, hadn’t noticed Misery fidgeting with the precious treasure behind him. Instead, Bonny darted between rocks and clumps of vines, striking blindly at the air with a sword. Misery could hear Harbiter’s words on the choice of weapon in his head:

Swords are for fools who know nothing about real combat.

He pulled out his own machete and twirled it in the air. I dunno about that Harbs, he thought. They’re pretty cool if you know how to use them.

Speaking of fools, Bonny had still not noticed him. He was charred and disheveled from his little spat with Doofus, and angry, for reasons Misery couldn’t quite fathom.

Misery drew close and sunk his machete into Bonny’s sword shoulder, sliding the length of the blade backwards through his flesh--like a credit card, ka-ching!

Bonny shouted in agony and spun around, his arm and sword drooping to the floor.

“Pretty neat ability you got,” said Misery, admiring the blood that now coated his weapon. “I think I figured it out. People just believe shit you say, is that it? That’s how you get away with murder--and whatever the other crimes were.”

His body suddenly felt heavy. The air grew thick, almost like water, and he had to tense his body just to stay standing. It seemed Bonny had cast some kind of strength debuff. No matter. He had strength to spare.

Bonny glared at him, his lips stretched taut with pain. Blood was beginning to soak the area around his wound. “I haven’t murdered anyone.”

Misery shrugged. “Never stopped me before.”

Misery hacked his machete into the other shoulder, forcing his way through bone. His muscles burned as they exerted themselves against the debuff.

Bonny shrieked. “You don’t want to kill me!”

Misery considered this, his stance wavering.

Kill! Kill! Kill! The devilish voices demanded.

“Oh, but I do!” exclaimed Misery. He struck into Bonny’s ribcage next, knocking him to the ground. The support had tried to block with his sword, but his arms were too injured to maneuver the instrument. It was like a Lion playing with a lamb.

“I’m dead!” cried Bonny. “You’ve won this battle!”

Misery examined his handiwork. The corpse panted and groaned on the ground. Tears of pain ran from its face and mingled with the blood that slicked the stones.

Misery closed his eyes and waited for his rush of delight. Nothing. He frowned.

Kill! Kill! Kill! The voices repeated their mantra. But there was nothing to kill. He had won.

Laughter rang through the caves. Where did it come from?

His phone vibrated, and a flood of messages from Harbiter arrived. His mood sank as he swiped down to the latest texts.

Consider this partnership dissolved.

He punched in a few letters, but gave up and pocketed the phone. He needed a proper hit. Where was that ranger?

 

---

 

Harbiter sighed and let her phone roll out of her grasp onto the white sheets of the bed. So Bona Fide was still alive after all. She would have to tie up that loose end later.

The door clicked, and she bolted up into a sitting position. Misery stepped in slowly, then set a paper bag on the table. He took off his mask, and changed into civilian form. His suit twisted away, revealing a gray T-shirt and black skinny jeans.

Lvl 50 - Civilian - Aaron

“Why?” she asked. She studied his face curiously. It was mostly shaven, save for a patch of tastefully trimmed hair on his chin.

He shrugged. “It’s only fair.”

Harbiter pulled herself off the bed, transforming back into Cleo as she sat across from him. She spoke, voice bare of modifiers. “I could have left when you told me to, but I froze.”

“You’re a rookie. It happens.”

Cleo winced and looked to the side as he explored her face with warm, brown eyes.

“I won’t out you,” he assured her. “Although I never quite caught your name.”

She hesitated, then said, “It’s Cleo.”

“Aaron. Nice to meetcha.” He smiled.

Misery--Aaron reached into the bag and started pulling out items. “We got sodas, garlic bread, forks, napkins, and the star of the show, one smokin’ hot, sexy ass deep dish pizza.”

He nudged a teal-colored drink towards her. She accepted it and chewed on the end of the straw. “That looks like a pie.”

“Pizza is pie,” declared Aaron. “Got a crust and got fillings. This one is simply honest about it.” He pulled a thick slice onto a thin paper plate, which instantly grew oily. He stuck a plastic fork in it and pushed this, also towards Cleo.

Cleo took a deep breath. “I’m sorry for getting mad at you. I thought you were just being mean and messing with me, but I should have taken the bad signal into account. Please forgive me.”

She bowed her head down, her orange hair draping in front of her face.

Aaron was silent for a moment, then burst out laughing. “You don’t need to bow to me. Why so formal?”

He put a hand on her shoulder and lifted her. She looked up at him, and he flashed her a winning smile. Once again, forgiveness.

“But hey, I appreciate it, Harbs. Well, I guess I should apologize too. Didn’t realize you knew the ranger. You two friends?” He sipped his drink.

“I’m not sure,” said Cleo. It was the truth.

“Why were you talking?” asked Aaron.

“I killed one of his party-mates a while back. He forgave me.”

“Awful kind of him. Pro’ly helped that you’re--” Aaron abruptly stopped. “You look forgivable,” he finished.

“Thanks.” Cleo brought a forkful of pizza to her mouth. She had dreaded this conversation, but it wasn’t too bad. Somehow her hero killing partner was fairly amicable towards her. Why? He was a villain--but so was she. She needed to be.

Suddenly, Aaron asked “How’s your unique the same as that top hero’s?”

Cleo chewed on her tongue. Blood mixed into the tomato sauce. She swallowed, and placed the fork back on her plate, appetite now gone.

“Silenced Observer, I think was their name?” he added. “They were big stuff a couple years back. Before the meteor. Teleported around like crazy with Liberty Dubs.”

Be smart Cleo. Play it cool.

“Silent Observer. What do you think of them?” she asked.

“Well, they may or may not have killed my old man. So, there’s that.” His voice was bitter.

Cleo searched her memories, trying to recall such an event. “Who is your father?”

“He’s a big name. The kind that shouldn’t be thrown around lightly.”

She’d killed a lot of big names as Silent Observer. Which could it be? She ran through a list in her head, trying to compare their features to those of the man sitting in front of her. Midas Mayhem? Delta P? Bionitzar? No visual resemblance. Aaron seems slightly southern… Peachy Keen? But she’s female.

“Still haven’t answered my question,” said Aaron.

Could she lie to him? Villains lie. But partners don’t. If she truly was going to go to the top with him, he would need to know. “We’re one and the same,” she said. She watched his reaction carefully, ready to transform to Silent Observer if things got hairy.

He set his own fork down, took a deep breath, then sighed. His gaze wandered to the side, and he leaned on his elbow. His focus was distant. “I was afraid the answer would be something like that. Who summoned the meteor?” he asked. “Was it you?”

“It was Liberty Warrior. He told me to evacuate before I knew of his plans. Four hundred thousand lives were lost that day, every one of them damned by good.” She thunked her fists on the table. She couldn’t help the anger that had slipped into her voice.

Aaron nodded absently. “So it was Liberty Warrior who killed my pops, then.”

His father. It dawned on her. “D. Evil?”

He nodded. “You want to kill Liberty Warrior because he summoned the meteor. I want to kill him because he killed my father. We can do it together.”

“Liberty and I were partners. Do you hate me for that? If he hadn’t killed D. Evil, I would have done the deed myself.”

“You’re my partner now. It’s not perfect but,” he met her gaze again and grinned, “I like hanging out with you Harbs. Why let a buncha stupid backstory stuff get in the way of that? You didn’t kill my pops, let’s just leave it at that.”

Well, she couldn’t argue with that. She should have hated Aaron. He was someone she would have killed without second thought just two years before. He was a blood lusty villain, a man with no clear moral compass, and the son of D. Evil himself. But he was friendly, and somehow he didn’t seem to mind her past. Somehow, she didn’t seem to mind his.

They talked for the rest of the evening. Everything was so easy now that the big secrets were out of the way. In fact, it felt good to have someone else who knew about her situation. Finally, when the summer sun had long since set, Aaron departed, and Cleo crawled into the bed, inserting herself into the tightly bound sheets.

She could barely believe the events of the day, but somehow, at the end of it, she still had a partner. A true, no-secrets partner.

Tim’s smile shone at her when she closed her eyes. Like the midday sun, it couldn’t be blocked by her eyelids. I know, she thought. I failed you. I befriended your killer. I promise it’s for the greater good.

Tim only smiled back.

 

---

 

Bona Fide laughed with the glee of a child who had escaped punishment. “I’m unkillable! I can do anything I please with this ability!”

Tim peered out at his party member from a crack in the cave wall. Bona Fide lay on his back, blood pooling on the ground around him. But he didn’t seem to care about the pain.

“I could have anything I wanted,” realized the hero out loud. “Any woman I desire, any object that delights my eyes, land as far as my voice will carry.”

Tim drew back his bow, leveling it at Bona Fide’s head.

“Even if my arms never work again, I could just convince others to be my weapons. As long as I can speak, I will thrive! The words I need to say--I hear them now.”

The ranger’s arms trembled as he lined up his shot. What if this man could be redeemed?

“A few well-placed words here and there… Anyone who opposes me will just become a toy for me to play with. I’ll have their hands lopped! Their tongue cut! I’ll kill them slowly, one limb at a time! ”

Tim inhaled deeply and focused his gaze. His grip steadied and the world seemed to still for just a moment. He focused on his skill, ‘Hasten Projectile.’ For Spoofus.

He released the arrow. It plunged into Bona Fide’s skull, killing him instantly. Painlessly.

Tears blurred Tim’s vision as he exited the cave into the surrounding rubble. Smoke waited for him outside. It drifted to him, pressing into his skin. His max health slowly raised back to normal as he breathed it in. Someone had killed his other.

He picked up a white card from the ground. A purple face of ink frowned at him. He gazed into its little dot eyes. The lines smudged with Tim’s tears. So it had been that fighter class, Misery. The one who had fought Bona Fide in the cave.

Why did the world have to be so complicated? Why couldn’t everybody just get along? Well, that’s what heroes were for, he supposed. Still, his heart ached for the lives of his fallen comrades.

Tim pocketed the card and let the last of his tears fall. Then, he began the journey out of the Cerulean Forest Dungeon. Alone.