forum The Hero's Villain Origin Story (O/O closed)

Started January 13, 2023 by @emilyevewrites group

tune

"This life suits me better anyway. And now I have you."

"Suits you?" the hero scoffed, but at the villain's tone, she shivered and looked away. The greater good, she reminded herself desperately. That's what this is all for. I'm doing it for the greater good of the people.

"Yes, it suits me. What else would my powers be good for? I mean, I could use it to help, but then I would just be another tool for society to use at their leisure."

"You'd be a tool?" the hero questioned sharply. "That's like saying I…" She trailed off quickly at the realization, and her mouth hung slightly agape.

"You understand my point now? We are but tools for society to use as it pleases." The villain grinned, walking over and kneeling in front of the hero.

"I am not a tool!" the hero snaps, but she turned her head down and to the side, refusing to meet the villain's gaze. The greater good. The promise of the greater good.

"Are you so sure of that as to try and leave this place and 'help' more?" the villain asks, cupping a hand against the hero's cheek. The villain met her eyes and gave her a solemn look, letting her see the truth of their words. "You would only be a tool for the city if you remained a hero. Whereas if you were to stay with me, you would be an equal. A fighter more worthy of recognition than restraint."

The hero looked deeply into the villain's eyes, searching them thoroughly. "I am not a tool," she repeated quietly, but just as snappy. Quickly, she looked away again, attempting to hide the conflict behind her gaze.

My character will be the hero, and I need my villain… 😏

This will be an action/romance rp where the hero falls for the villain and turns to the "dark" side. It will originally start from the hero giving herself up for the city's safety, and then they have this conversation, more or less. My hero will be a female like she is above, and I'm comfortable with a gxg or a gxb, whatever floats your boat!

Please someone join who is active and has moderately long responses. This is the third time I've tried to start this rp 😅

Farah jerked awake with a pounding in her head. She knew she'd come here willingly – of that, she had no doubt. But her racing heart and migraine-like pain vibrating her skull made it difficult to remember what exactly had happened before she'd blacked out.

She vaguely remembered a fight… her surrender… had she been knocked out and brought here? What she knew now was that she was sitting in the middle of what appeared to be the main floor of an abandoned warehouse, and she was bound to a chair by both her wrists and ankles. There was also a gag in her mouth that tasted horrid, so she kept her mouth shut. A sudden feeling tickled the side of her face, and she recognized the scent of blood. She was bleeding from her temple.

And now the headache made sense.

She looked around to observe a bit more of her surroundings, but the woman didn't turn her head too fast, though. A dizzy feeling was hovering over her, and she didn't want to make it worse. She said nothing because of the filthy gag in her mouth, but her fingers curled into fists. Malcolm can't be far behind me… he's the reason I'm here anyway.

Malcolm watched Farah from the darkness, slowly circling her. He was too far in the blackness for her to really see him, which was good. Otherwise, she would’ve seemed how torn he was between just outright killing her, or doing something he had never done before. She had surrendered, which was primarily why he was so torn. No one had ever surrendered to him, and he wanted to know why.

A few minutes later, when Farah was finally waking, he watched her more closely. He noted her fists. She would be angry, but would she see his reasoning? Would she understand why he needed to continue? Why the world needed a holocaust?

“I want to talk, before I decide what the fuck to do with you. And, fucking believe me, I don’t do this shit for just anybody,”he announced in his raspy voice.

Malcolm then quit circling Farah and headed straight for her, moving to stand in front of her. He stared at her, appraising her for a moment. It was a somewhat eerie sight, since he didn’t have an eyelid or eyebrow on the left side of his face, and since his left eye was mechanical and lacked the ability to convey emotion. But, his right eye more than made up for it, because it easily conveyed Malcolm’s seemingly inborn hatred for most things, especially people.

“Also, I want to add that you are fucking lucky. I rarely fucking miss with a gun. And, you narrowly avoided getting your fucking head blown off. Call that what you will, and I won’t fucking care, but that you surrendered to me, then managed to survive one of my bullets, is intriguing. So, to my fucking point, why in the fucking hell did you surrender to me, the worst fucking ‘villain’ in this city, despite my relative inactivity? That doesn’t happen for no fucking reason,”Malcolm asked.

He waved to one of the dozens of mouse-sized bots he had around the warehouse. The bot moved forward into the light and climbed onto Farah. It went to the back of her head and untied the knot of her gag, then pulled it out of her mouth and dragged it away. It seemed to be an old, greasy, oily rag that should’ve been discarded long ago.

“So… tell me,”Malcolm bade, his face stern and showing that he wouldn’t tolerate defiance.

Farah stiffened, hearing the voice of her adversary speak from the darkness surrounding her. Her body and head didn't move, though. It was her eyes that tracked the voice's origin and Malcolm's movements as he stepped into the light and walked right up to her.

Her narrowed gaze didn't fade in the slightest as he approached. She hated that she had to look up at Malcolm to speak to her, which automatically put her in a submissive position and left her subject to his towering form. But Farah would take what she could get. At least she was still alive. Her eyes stayed locked on his while he spoke, betraying nothing of her emotions other than her anger with being restrained as she was.

As the little bot climbed up her body, Farah jerked in protest. The feeling of it was discomforting, especially as it made its way behind her head. She held her breath as it untied her gag and pulled it from her mouth. Immediately, Farah gasped for fresh air and turned her head to spit on the floor, attempting to get the taste out of her mouth. It was disgusting. But with her gag removed, she began to speak.

"Let me make this clear; I came here on my own terms. I'm surrendering myself for the good of the city so your attacks will stop. One life for thousands. That is my offer. Please take it. You're terrorized these citizens long enough. It was you who ambushed me and shot at me as I was trying to talk." She let the venom she felt for her opponent drip from her lips, her British accent tinting her words to sound elegant in an odd, threatening way. "What the hell?”

Malcolm wasn’t fazed at all by her angry look. In fact, he even seemed slightly amused. His amusement grew, now showing as a small smile, as she flinched at his bot’s movements. He loved how most folk couldn’t stand to have machines on them. It made them so predictable.

Her spitting was an expected consequence of putting an oily rag in her mouth. Malcolm didn’t care though. She could vomit because of it, and he still wouldn’t care. An oily rag was a miniscule price to pay for a conversation.

“‘For the good of the city so my attacks will stop.’ Sounds like a fucking excuse, doesn’t it? Why do you protect a city that barely fucking acknowledges you, that uses you until you’re of no more worth then tosses you away like that dirty rag? Do you even realize how goddamned exaggerated your offer is? ‘One life for thousands’. Fuck no. One life for a handful of fat fucking bastards that don’t give two fucks about either of us. Is that what you want?”Malcolm asked.

He scoffed at her words about his ambush. Mere technicality whether he attacked her first or she surrendered first. It was already over with and Farah was at his mercy. That’s what mattered.

His smug expression only angered Farah more. The cocky bastard… She wanted to strike him and wipe the amused little smirk off of his face. Malcolm had only ever brought hardship upon the world, and she was trying to rid the world of its worry. Taking the burdens of others on her shoulders was not a new task for Farah. One of the facets of her abilities was empathetic perception. Whether she not, she took on the problems of those around her and cared for them as if they were her own.

"It's not an excuse!" she protested sharply. "They-" She gagged from the disgusting taste left in her mouth and spat again on the floor. A shudder passed through her before she continued. "They may not care for me, but they are innocent people. As long as this doesn't end with more death, then yes, that's what I want!" Rarely before had Farah shown so much visible anger. But she was desperate.

“Sure,”Malcolm replied sarcastically, mocking her.

He then snickered as she gagged.

“I’d offer you something to get the taste out of your mouth, but all I’ve got around here is more oil. And, unfortunately, I’m still talking to you, so watching you drown in gallons of black oil would be counterproductive,”Malcolm commented casually.

He then watched her with an irritated expression as she spoke. He would’ve shot her already if it wasn’t for his interest in her. He didn’t even care that she was pissed off.

“So, you like being a tool? Maybe I should use you as a fucking wrench to build some more machines! Would you like that too? And, really? No more death? Death is fucking inevitable! Who gives a fuck how it happens? You think they care? They don’t. But, you, you are so concerned about saving the lives of the useless fucks of society. Why? How does it even make fucking sense?”he snapped.

Farah's eyes blazed. Ignoring his casual death threat, she bit in a sharp retort while clenching her fists even tighter.

"I am not a tool. And yes, I'm not so idiotic as to think death is not inevitable. I know it is. I've seen it firsthand too many times to count and have been unable to stop it no matter how much willpower I can find in myself. But it isn't fair to make it come too soon. People need to live first. They deserve it, above all else. Why are you so concerned with your apocalyptic, dystopian holocaust plot to rid the world of life? Wouldn't that include yourself? Or have you been turned into too much of a machine to have a heart anymore?"

“Oh, you fucking are a tool. You just don’t realize it yet,”he immediately shot back, interrupting her.

Malcolm then listened to the rest of her words, his demeanor surprisingly relaxing. There was even a hint of sadness in his eye. That is, until she mentioned his plot. Then, he was pissed.

“First off, how the fuck do you know my plans? Nobody, not even my closest associates, know I want a holocaust! Secondly, I only just started adding mechanical parts to myself. And, I can prove it,”he snarled.

Malcolm reached up to his face and unscrewed his mechanical eye, leaving a deep hole with a few wires hanging out. Then, his hands moved to the back of his head, undoing the straps holding his mask on. He threw the mask to the side, then walked forward and leaned down until the remnants of his nose nearly touched hers.

The left side of his face was a grotesque massacre of charred flesh and torn muscle. His eye was a nonexistent crater, except for the wires. His jawbone was visible, and he barely had any teeth left on the left side. His tongue was half mangled, and the remaining tendons of his jaw were shredded. He’d actually replaced some of those tendons with artificial ones, and that was the only reason he could talk.

“You’ve seen death. I’ve felt it. I shouldn’t be alive, yet here I am, living on borrowed time after being ‘killed’ before my time. They didn’t give a fuck, and I was no mere scientist. If you think I care about dying, you’re fucking wrong. I don’t give a fuck if I die, if you die, or if this entire world dies,”he hissed.

He straightened and moved to retrieve his mask. He put it back on, then screwed his eye back in. It was all methodical, practiced, like he frequently took the mask off and put it back on. Then, he turned back to her, glaring.

Farah bit back another counter. She wasn't a tool… was she? No, she thought quickly. When has Malcolm ever been right. I'm not a tool…

She was surprised as he started relaxing, and she even noted the brief flicker of sadness when it was there. And just as quickly it was gone. The rage that took over his expression was enough to signal to Farah that she'd fucked up with her wording. She'd known of his plot for a while, which was exactly why she was so desperate to stop him.

In response to his question, since it was valid, Farah's eyes changed color from brown to silver-blue. She entered his mind, and so that he knew when she'd done it, she telepathically spoke to him. Your mind is a dangerous place, Malcolm Harkolar. Her eyes narrowed.

Then her eyes changed back to normal as he unscrewed his eye. Farah watched him firmly until he began to walk toward her. Her eyes widened, and she leaned away quickly when he almost brushed their noses together. The sight was gruesome, but the woman had seen its equivalent or worse before. As much as it made her stomach writhe, she didn't look away.

"That much is clear," she replied, wrinkling her nose in disgust. "But you can't expend the anger you feel for so few people on the population of an entire city or even the globe." She noted his glare, but she continued speaking. "I know of your goals and your means to achieve them. I've felt your anger and your pain. I have seen firsthand what it can do. I beg of you… don't do this. No one deserves to go through what you did. I'm sorry."

Malcolm paused at her eye color change, confused. But, the moment she spoke in his head, he stiffened, wild rage radiating off of him in an instant.

“Get the fuck out of my head, you telepathic bitch! Or I will put a fucking drill in yours!”he yelled.

It took a moment for him to calm down afterward, but once he did, he continued with taking off his mask.

Her shock and disgust didn’t surprise Malcolm. He had expected it, actually.

“Really? My anger for so few people? You’re a telepath. I thought you would know by now that I hate everyone. Humanity is a fucking joke. I just hate the fat fucks more, because they caused it all,”he hissed.

Her words bored him. The pleading ‘I know what you’ve been through, so don’t do it’ shit always annoyed him.

“You know, if I wanted your pity or sympathy, I’d ask. I’d even beg on the fucking streets like the rest of the fools. But, I don’t want your fucking pity, or sympathy, or concern. Besides, if you really knew my mind, you’d also know that I’m quite happy where I’m at. I exist outside the ‘rules’, outside the ‘plan’. It means I don’t have to ask permission, or beg for payments, or bow down to someone that doesn’t give a shit about me or my work. I can do what I enjoy most, without care of what anyone else fucking says,”Malcolm said with a snort.

Farah's expression betrayed none of her fear at his words. Her gaze remained cool and even as she narrowed her eyes slightly. She wisely said nothing.

But when he critiqued her statement, she was ready. "You misunderstand me," she countered, shaking her head. "I know of your hatred for humanity. Believe me. It is hard to ignore when I'm in your mind. Malcolm, I'm an empath. I can feel everything that the people around me are feeling just as much, if not more. And it is taking everything I have to keep from letting your anger fill me and take me over.

"What I feel for you is neither pity nor sympathy. It is remorse."

Malcolm seemed even more bored by her words, until she mentioned she was an empath. He then listened more closely, a cruel intrigue entering his eye.

“I dare you. Let it take over. I want to see it. And, maybe, if you’re lucky, it will show me the error of my ways. Or, show you the error of yours. I fucking dare you,”he hissed.

“Remorse? For what? Remorse is just as bad as pity. I don’t fucking care for it. Don’t feel remorse. It makes you one of the useless fucks. For once, I see potential in you. Potential to be a fucking equal, someone worthy of note among the waste of this world. Don’t fucking waste it, because I’d hate to have to waste a bullet on you,”Malcolm huffed.

Farah's eyes widened at his request. Lose control? Give in to her emotions? Surrender herself to the rage that she felt emanating from the dangerous man in front of her?

"Absolutely not!" she protested. "I won't."

She lifted her chin and inhaled slowly. "You see potential in me? To be what, your developing sidekick in your plot to murder an entire planet? I don't think so."