Author's note: This was written for the tumblr Bingo Challenge – I explain everything at the end.
It was time they took their place that belonged to them. By right as well as by birth; by superiority as well as by reason. They had longed lived in the shadow of the humans. Humans who had shut them out of the light, decided that the world was theirs.
Until he had come.
He didn't take on the role of leader without hesitation. He preferred to be alone, to work alone. But he didn't want to stay hidden all his life. And the only way to make sure he didn't was a revolution.
He didn't have anything against humans, per se; they were entertaining enough when one was bored, even though he had only very seldom stumbled upon an interesting case. Most humans were so simple – they wanted something, they needed something; what he needed was a worthy advisory, someone he could fight against and feel the thrill of danger.
Sadly, no one came forward, and he decided that he would have to conquer earth instead.
Or rather – not conquer; not establishing a new status quo after he had been so bored with the old one for so many years; but to create chaos.
Chaos was indefinitely more entertaining than order. Order was what people went for because they were scared of chaos. The one who wanted chaos was the stronger one. And monsters were stronger than humans.
It was time to make them remember.
It took years, but he slowly built a web, like a Spider. Most monsters hid themselves from humans, after they had been nearly extinguished; he showed them a new way.
Of course there were a few who wanted to live in peace; he left them where he found them if they were no danger to him, and if they were, he did what he had to do. Or he let his pet do it. The ex-soldier – ex because one day a comrade had found him drinking blood and screamed, even though he had only drunk the blood of a dead enemy to hold the urge at bay – was a good shot and loyal to a fault.
And then he had enough. Enough monsters who wanted a chance; but enough monsters for London. And he needed London. London was where the Ice Man worked, under whom he had suffered so many years ago.
Everything went smoothly. At least he thought so. Monsters the humans had believed extinct came out of every shadow – ghouls and vampires and strange things that had no name, not even in the colourful human language – and within a day, London was under their control.
He killed the Ice Man himself, smiling pleasantly at the recollection of him sitting in a cold, empty room and promising himself that he would have his revenge.
He pleaded at the end, just before he cut his throat. It was delicious.
And yet –
He was sitting in the Ice Man's old office, and they were planning on first taking the land, then the rest of the world. There were monsters everywhere.
There were still human survivors. There had to be. Some of them needed human blood, some others body parts; they would always have to keep humans around.
He visited the centre they kept them in and laughed when he heard one scream, "The Apocalypse!" It was just a crazy preacher, of course, but the word was more than accurate. From the human perspective. Their time had come to an end. That of the monsters had begun.
He didn't stay for long. He had drunk enough of the Ice Man. He wouldn't need feeding for a few days.
But when the day drew to a close, he couldn't help but feel disappointed. The Spider sat in the middle of its web, slowly devouring its enemies.
But it had all been so easy.
There had been no fight; he had taken over London without raising a finger. The monsters he had recruited had done it all.
And now he was sitting here, and he was still bored.
Was a little opposition too much to ask? He wanted things to be interesting, to be clever. Life was so boring.
He waited without much hope.
A few weeks later, he heard about him for the first time.
That wasn't exactly true. He had known about him, of course. The Spider knew everything there was to know about everyone. He had contemplated calling him in on their revolution, but decided against it.
The Last Fighter, as he came to be known, was from a human family; but, due to one of his ancestors being a monster, he had been born with wings. Long ago, people from mixed families had been rather common place; but after prejudice and fear began to make people weary of monsters, humans rarely had children with them, and they slowly disappeared until he arrived. Until they arrived. He and the Spider were the only monsters from human families heard of in this century.
The Last Fighter was hardly a monster, really; he could fly and was unusually brilliant, but there was little to distinguish him from an ordinary human.
This might be one of the reasons why he had not only been accepted by his family, but humans in general. The Spider suspected that the wings had something to do with it as well. His fangs and red eyes scared people; but The Last Fighter had the appearance of an angel.
As if monsters weren't enough for them. Angels had to exist as well.
The Last Fighter had always been interested in humans, had never tried to make contact with another monster, except when he was chasing it.
He was fascinated by the petty problems of humans and had spent hours solving them. All from small matters like missing pets to real crimes. The Spider couldn't comprehend his interest. But it was clear that this was no ordinary monster.
He, like The Spider, had an ex-soldier at his disposal. They were a good team.
And now The Last Fighter, as his name indicated, was working on saving humans.
The Spider had an adversary. Finally someone worth fighting.
At first he collected information. The Last Fighter and his friend had gone into the underground, taking humans with them. Some of the humans appeared to be the old informants and friends of his adversary, others to have come on their own accord, to fight.
They were successful in small ways. Slowly thinning out the monster population one day at a time, freeing humans from centres.
There wasn't much to be found about The Last Fighter's whereabouts, and The Spider was grateful. He wouldn't have wanted this to be over too quickly. For the first time in a long time, he had fun.
And once he had The Last Fighter, it would truly be over. The humans looked up to him. Once he destroyed that hope, the world would belong to him.
He didn't want it to be over so soon.
So he decided to play games.
It was easy to put bombs in a few centres. It was easy to leave clues as to which centres. And it was fun watching him run around, or rather, fly around.
He moved gracefully through the air, he had to give him that.
His friend was usually with him, being carried in his arms when they were in the air, and he wondered if there was something more going on between them. The ex-soldier might be a good hostage when the time came.
The face of The Last Fighter when the first centre exploded was worth the food supply they lost. He watched, saw his friend's shocked expression, the anger in his adversary's face.
And then he realized.
Anger. Disappointment. But no hatred.
It was logical that they couldn't hate each other. They were too similar for that. Monsters in a human world, both brilliant.
It was a pity The Last Fighter was an angel.
No, they couldn't hate each other. There always had to be one of them to balance the other out, and The Spider feared the day he would have to destroy his other self.
Of course his pet didn't understand. Of course the friend of The Last Fighter wouldn't understand.
But what they felt towards one another wasn't hatred. It wasn't respect or any other positive feeling either; he would call it – mutually unrequited hatred. That fit the best towards what they must feel during their game.
He had a weak spot. That spot was humans. Why else would he have helped them all these years? And now The Spider had proven that he was ready to go through with his threats.
From then on, it was a continuous game of cat and mouse. The Spider made sure that flight patrol were put up so The Last Fighter couldn't fly anymore; he showed a knowledge of the city that astounded even him. The Last Fighter saved a centre and freed the humans; The Spider had his people take a hideout he'd known about for a while. It was never the hideout, though; aside from the fact that he didn't know where it was, it would have been a shame to have the game cut short.
He thought The Last Fighter enjoyed it too. He thought that, despite the help he had always given humans, that he understood that they had done what they had to do – in fact, he had hoped that they may continue their game indefinitely, his adversary comprehending that they were nothing without each other.
Instead, they were attacked.
One day, he was sitting in his office when his pet rushed in and told him that several centres had been broken into, countless control posts had been taken over, many monsters had been killed.
This was not part of the game. This was destruction. The Last Fighter wanted his destruction.
No, not his, The Spider realized. He couldn't wish for his destruction. He wouldn't have any distraction. He wanted humans to be safe. That was all. He had nothing to fear. And as long as he hadn't, he could always start anew. Things had been boring anyway.
His pet was angry, waiting for him to do something, so he told him what he expected of him and he dashed off like always.
He would probably not make it out alive, but he could always get a new pet.
He waited. The Last Fighter would find him, he had no doubt about it. It was time to talk. They had played long enough. It was time to set down some rules. They could keep each other entertained for a long time.
His pet wore a radio, as usual, and he could hear the conversation between him and the friend of The Last Fighter. They had found each other. Another two parts of a whole.
"So you are the Captain?"
"Bingo".
Shots were fired. Then he heard nothing. The radio must have been damaged.
He waited.
He heard the wings touch the walls of the corridor before he heard steps. He stood up. The tea he had prepared in advance was ready.
He entered. His wings were even bigger than they appeared on a screen and of an almost blinding white.
The Spider nodded. The Last Fighter strode over and accepted the cup of tea he offered.
"I haven't had tea in a while" he said.
"I thought you would appreciate it" he answered calmly. They were both standing. If he were to sit down, he would be in disadvantage. The wings were not only used for flying – it was also easy to knock a man down with them, as he had seen on his screens on numerous occasions.
"What do we do now, Mr. Moriarty?"
Jim Moriarty's wings stretched.
"I would like to know your name".
"The name is Sherlock Holmes" The Spider replied pleasantly. "Now – "
He only saw the weapon as the shot was fire.
He registered that it was silver bullet before everything went dark, but that was not his last thought.
His last thought was, A Surprise, at last.
Author's note: I saw a post about whether it was possible to use all tropes in one story, and I decided it would be an interesting challenge. I didn't want to ruin the surprise beforehand, so here are the Tropes: AU:Monsters; Wing!Fic; Role Reversal; AU: Apocalypse; Mutually Unrequited.
I wanted to see if I could write all of them, put them in one fic, surprise the reader and tell a compelling story. Let me know how I did.