10-8-11
1:42am
Summary–Anyone can be a criminal, but it's much harder to be a villain. A Rowdyruff boy's take on things.
Disclaimer–I do not own The Powerpuff Girls, which belongs to its respective owner(s) and is only being used in a fan-made, fictional story.
xoxo
Title–Villain
By–Moon Prynces
xoxo
Look at them, he thought in disgust, one foot propped up on the ledge of the roof he stood on. Though he was largely unimpressed he still leaned forward to watch, elbow bracing on knee of said propped up leg.
Why? Why were they wearing all black in the middle of the day?
He shook his head as they tried to split up, one running into the alley near the building he stood atop.
After he was caught, the cop mumbled something about lowlife and jail, and he had to agree.
They were lower than life. Pathetic. Not even worth the money they were trying to steal.
He stood up straight again, looking to the sky as the show ended.
Then again, he wasn't like them. He wasn't just some criminal.
Most of them could never do what he did. Because they were too weak-minded, too busy letting their consciences argue over it. He didn't have that problem.
And he didn't have the trivial reasons, excuses, obstacles they all did. He didn't steal to make ends meet or get rich. He didn't harm people for revenge. He wasn't afraid of the law, getting caught and "punished".
None – or very few of them – could ever be truly malicious. It was hard to steal and kill, but harder to just hate everything good and do all you could to fight against it.
Except for him it was kind of easy.
A truly sinister grin came across his face as he took flight, looking around for an easy target. And soon his counterpart showed up to stop him.
He grinned the same grin as she scowled at him, skipping her usual lecture. Without warning he stuck a fist in her gut in the blink of an eye.
She recoiled. And the battle began.
It was an hour later, both breathing heavily and clothes stained with minor traces of blood (at least, they looked minor to him, nothing he needed to worry about) that her expression changed from severe to desperate.
"Why? Why do you keep doing this? There's no point!" she shouted, frustrated.
He let out an abrupt bark of laughter that startled her with its delivery and volume.
"I'm evil, you idiot!" he managed to say before charging at her again. "I live for this," he spoke while she blocked, bringing up a leg to kick. He blocked this time. "I'm not another random criminal, the type who just breaks laws," he mocked as she dodged his next blow and tried to put space between them.
They circled for a few moments, her wiping the blood from a corner of her mouth and him letting the sweat roll down between his eyes.
"I enjoy causing people pain," he admitted proudly, eyes shining.
She looked stunned, losing the tense stance briefly.
Their battle ended the same as it always did; neither of them dead, which was what he was aiming for (even if it wasn't her), both with fresh bruises and new scars.
It was as he lay on a dirty bed in a dirty apartment in a dirty part of town, with his hands behind his head and the ceiling looking as moldy as ever, that he finished up his little speech.
"I enjoy feeling it, too," he admitted apprehensively, visibly shaken at the recent revelation.
Maybe the true reason there were so few villains out there was because...they all fell into self-destruction.
xoxo
It was harder being a villain because, once dealt with, people forget you and move on. They try to ignore whatever marks you made before your demise.
Criminals get thrown in jail, or rehab. They get famous, acknowledged and known. People don't just condemn them (not all of them anyway). People still try to change them.
He knew this from the one time he was truly beaten down and could not move a single muscle, passed out to the point where it seemed he had stopped breathing.
And no one– no one, did anything for him for the two days he lay there. Though that might also have been because he hadn't landed in a highly populated area.
Upon waking he had carefully and inconspicuously drifted off to a safer place to recover. For once, he didn't make a spectacle of himself while stealing the supplies he needed to get better.
He remained incognito for two weeks, and what he'd found was actually disturbing.
There was no mention of his defeat, his death. Nothing in the papers, no stories on the radio, no parades celebrating the fact that one Rowdyruff Boy was down, two to go.
The townsfolk he observed just went on with life as normal. Newspapers brought to light theft and murder of ordinary little criminals; regaling readers with depictions of the chase, the capture and the deserved consequence of such actions. Some were locked away and some even died before handcuffs.
Such simple little crimes, and yet no one was rejoicing the assumption that he was dead? Someone who had terrorized just about everyone, directly or indirectly, with his deeds?
It seemed no one cared if he was dead – just that he was gone, swept under the rug and never to be mentioned again.
He didn't want to be forgotten like that (no one did). Not even if he were truly dead.
And he knew for sure that his "death" was confirmed to everyone when he crept over to the spot where his body had been late one night to find her standing over the crater, looking solemn. By then it had been a month since the incident.
He was actually shocked to see her there, and not looking smug or satisfied. But then she caught sight of his movement from the corner of her eyes and glanced up sharply to stare.
"You're here?" she'd breathed out with surprised features. "You're not dead?" she spoke softly, rhetorically.
He wasn't sure how he should feel about his newest discovery. That she looked surprised, but her face had twitched with some sense of...relief.
He was a bit relieved too – now knowing that he hadn't been truly forgotten.
xoxo
Villains were...well, untrustworthy.
Perhaps the same could be said about criminals as well, but then they were not truly evil (most of them). Criminals still relied on each other. They had family and friends who knew of the things they did and still stuck by them.
They had visitors in jail! Someone to defend them! Someone who cared.
But a villainous person, such as himself, would rather stab you in the back literally than figuratively.
There was no lawyer on earth that would try to defend him if he were ever caught and somehow put to justice. Maybe because there was no way to defend his actions.
It was hard because...well, villains were still...people. Or at least, they behaved like them (Fuzzy and Mojo weren't actually human, now were they?). And so, like most people, villains still wanted some kind of normal human relations.
Not trust, per se, but they wanted someone to, just once, ask if that gash hurt or sympathize with their frustrations (even if said frustration was defeating the "enemy").
But he and his brothers hadn't grown up with anyone behaving that way toward them, so they couldn't possibly replicate something they hadn't ever known onto each other.
Was that the reason he hadn't spoken to her when they discovered each other at the site of his supposed death, only brought a finger to his lips and turned to walk away (not fly or run at superspeed)? That he wanted someone to...to trust him, to care enough not to blow the secret that he wasn't actually dead? Was he looking for something to connect with her about? To connect with anyone really?
Well, if that wasn't the case, then what was her reason for not telling anyone about him? He watched the latest battle between her sisters and his brothers and not once did she ask them where he was or give any inclination that she knew something about it.
Maybe there weren't so many villains these days because they all grew tired of feeling so alone and uncared for. Maybe, after a while, most realized that world domination and evil triumphing good couldn't make them truly happy. Maybe they were tired of the backstabbing, not being able to trust anyone but yourself.
And if that were true, then what was going to make him happy, keep him satisfied, make life worth living?
xoxo
Why is this so hard? he asked himself while holding back his strength and trying to shovel a typical amount of dirt onto the growing mound nearby.
He readjusted the tinted glasses on his nose and the dull grey hat on his head, hiding his hair and eyes and generally just trying not to be recognized.
Why was he stooping so low as to perform menial labor for minimum wage? And as a-a dirt shoveler in the damn botanical garden of all places!
Why hadn't he thrown himself back into the life of a carelessly corrupt villain? Why wasn't he out there, using his powers to terrorize innocent people and drawing out his enemies for another battle? Why hadn't he at least gone back to his brothers to let them know he was alive?
And why the hell was there always– so– much– dirt– to shovel!
He let his thoughts wander and forgot to slow down his actions until he caught sight of an elderly couple staring. At that he stood up straight, put a smile on his face and waved congenially.
They walked away while whispering to each other unsurely and he fixed his hat for the nth time that day.
Damn, he hated himself. If only he hadn't noticed all those things, hadn't thought too deeply about what he was...then maybe he wouldn't have cared.
When he moved on to his next task he finally realized he was being watched, which was a surprise. With the grey outfit that matched his hat and brown boots that blended in with the dirt so you couldn't tell how dirty they were, well, it was...surprising.
His job was a behind-the-scenes type. It was better if he were not noticed, which was why he stuck with it for almost a year now.
He didn't know who it was exactly at first, and tried not to be so obvious of his knowing. It could be his brothers, come to laugh and mock him as they dragged him back to wherever they hung out these days. It could be town officials, looking on with disdain and ready to lock him up after discovering him. It could be his boss, about to fire his ass for being late again that morning!
Though he glanced around thoroughly and subtly, he couldn't spot anything out of the ordinary.
"That looks kind of uneven."
"It's dirt. No one cares," he bit out through his teeth and pretended to strain himself with his shoveling.
When he finally took pause and looked around, he didn't see anyone.
Great, now I'm fucking hearing voices, he cursed and angrily went back to work.
And then he stopped and looked directly above his head to the tree to see someone was sitting where they shouldn't. He was about to shoo her down from the branch she sat upon so fixedly. This wasn't the goddamn park!
He almost rolled his eyes when he took note that she wore black from head to toe, including sunglasses and a hoodie, hiding her identity.
"Look kid, get down or I'll have to call security."
She frowned at the term he used. "Kid?" she scoffed. "I'm as old as you!"
"Oh yeah? And how old am I?" he challenged, sticking a gloved hand to his hip while the other still held his shovel.
She opened her mouth but then bit her tongue and didn't respond.
"Down. Now," he commanded.
Instead of shimmying down the tree like a scared platypus or something, she grumpily hopped down the two yards, surprising him. And then making him freak out.
Couldn't be, he thought frantically, setting his jaw and looking unchanged.
He turned back to the dirt, feeling her eyes on him and not hearing any fading footsteps.
Can't be, he mentally shook himself out of the stupor. Go away already, he urged as he heard her begin moving.
When he glanced over his shoulder she had opened her mouth to say something but instead let out an ineffective puff of air that conveyed nothing.
It had to be the stupidest outfit he'd ever seen, if he was being honest here. The hoodie and sunglasses clashed horribly, like she was some celebrity who was really bad at being inconspicuous. That, and it was the middle of the freakin' day! And she was wearing black!
"Ah, sorry to bother you," she stumbled out and backed up, then turned to leave for good.
He watched her walk away, and sighed. "What do you want?" he called out.
To anyone observing it was just another plain interaction between strangers, nothing that meant anything.
She turned over her shoulder, looking nervous. "I was, uh, looking for someone."
He went back to fix his hat casually. "Yeah? Did you need help?"
"Um..."
"Because I can still direct you to security, if you'd like." And he found himself smirking like a smartass, though he had no idea where this reaction came from.
She looked shocked for a moment, if the gaping of her mouth was any indication.
"Fine," she bit out. "Be alone. Who needs your company anyway?"
His eyes widened as she turned back to her path to stomp away.
Or maybe...it was harder being a villain because one was usually defeated, in one way or another. Criminals were just...caught.
That might explain why he'd dropped his shovel and chased after her (though holding back his natural speed so that passersby wouldn't suspect anything). Because although it might have seemed like he'd won their cutesy little verbal match, had gotten her to leave him alone...he knew the truth. It was his loss.
"Wait," he demanded, easily catching up and embarrassed to notice his hand was outstretched, reaching for her. She stopped but didn't bother turning to him, just lifted her chin higher. "Wha– Who-who were you looking for again?" he asked shakily.
"This, uh, this guy I used to know. But it's been a couple of years so...I'm not sure he's still...around," she finished lamely, and when she turned around to face him he caught a quick glimpse of her hair and eyes.
"And he was some kind of jerk? Always getting into trouble?" he questioned back with a rueful half-smile.
"Yeah," she replied with a small smile herself.
"I think I know who you're talking about." And she looked breathless and hopeful, something that threw him off for a second with the complete honesty in her expression. "But that guy...he died a few years ago."
She stared at him, looking ready to object.
"I guess you'll just have to get to know me instead," he shrugged and she pulled back her slightly hostile expression to regard him carefully.
But luckily for him, the death of the person he had been was figurative and not literal. His defeat hadn't been a result of the typical battles, but the wearing down of who he had been from the inside. It didn't spell out his end, only the end of one phase of his life.
One villain down.
xo end xo
10-12-11
12:44am
This story is brought to you by the inspiring story summary. It was a line I almost used in the previous story, "Hop, Skip and Lifetime Away".
I didn't mean for it to lean toward romance, or to even include one of the girls, but I was trying to develop the story and it came about that way. Also, I wasn't sure which RRB I was writing about at first but I think I know who it is now. Still, you can envision whatever couple you'd like, I think.
Thanks.
10-12-11
4:19pm