now in the hands of two girls raised in the superhero world.
It’d be hard for anyone to take. Then again, we’re both dealing with world-shattering news…and having to trust people we normally wouldn’t.
We drive a few blocks in silence before Draven finally speaks.
“How long—” He clamps his jaw shut like he’s fighting the question. He regroups and then asks, “Did he look…strong enough?”
I could pretend I don’t know what he means, but I understand exactly what he’s asking. I could lie, but I don’t think that will help anyone.
“I don’t know,” I answer. “He was in pretty bad shape.”
Really bad. I’m not sure how long he will be able to hold on. I only hope that we’ll get to him before it’s too late.
Draven white-knuckles the steering wheel and stares blankly at the road.
“Is he… Is he the first?” I ask. “Do you know if other villains have been…”
“Tortured?” Draven’s nostrils flare. “Beaten, starved, water-boarded, electrocuted? Experimented on like they were some kind of lab animals instead of human beings?”
I shrink back a little at the venom in his words. And the images they paint.
“No,” he says after a minute. “Deacon isn’t the first.”
The subtext is clear. He might not be the first, but if Draven and Dante have anything to say about it, he will be the last. I never in a million years thought I would stand with villains, never thought I’d feel so desperate to save the life of one. Then again, I never thought I’d see the day when even a single hero would do something as awful as what I saw tonight. Whether this is a small group of rotten heroes or as widespread as Rebel says, I side with villains on this.
The torture has to stop.
Draven surprises me by continuing. “This shit has been going on for decades. Ever since the Collective formed and those assholes decided that some of you were in and the rest of us were out.”
That long? The Collective was created more than fifty years ago with the sole purpose of uniting heroes against villains. Fifty years of torture? My stomach lurches.
“I’m not one of them,” I say.
“You might as well be.” He pulls onto the highway that leads to my side of town. “Your mom is their very own Einstein, Edison, and Josef Mengele, all rolled into one.”
“Seriously? You’re comparing my mom to a sadistic Nazi freak?”
“If the unethical experiment fits…”
“You’re wrong,” I argue. “She’s not like that. She only wants to help people.”
“So she told you about the secret level then?” When I don’t answer, he laughs humorlessly. “Didn’t think so. Dr. Swift may want to help people, but only if those people are heroes. How many of her magical potions and pills have been used to help villains?”
I open my mouth to answer, but he cuts me off.
“Zip. Zilch. Zero. Every possible word for none at all.” He shakes his head. “How many have been used to hurt villains? To kill us?”
It’s the word “us” that breaks me. No longer are villains some nameless, faceless evil enemy. No, now villains are Draven and Dante. Deacon.
“I-I’m sorry,” I say. It’s lame, but it’s the truth. “I didn’t know. I never thought of it that way. If I had—”
“What?” he snaps. “You would have stopped the heroes? You would have given them the Kenna Swift stamp of disapproval?” He shakes his head. “Oh, wait. I know. You would have pulled that fire alarm a lot sooner. Of course, the only one who avoids getting burned in that situation is you.”
I get it. He’s hurting. He’s upset. But just because he’s one step from losing it is no excuse to take everything out on me. I’m on his side here.
I have to remind myself that he’s still a villain. Just because I feel bad for him doesn’t mean I trust him. And it doesn’t mean we’ll be on the same side once Deacon is free. This is a one-time-only partnership. Because while I may have discovered there are
It’d be hard for anyone to take. Then again, we’re both dealing with world-shattering news…and having to trust people we normally wouldn’t.
We drive a few blocks in silence before Draven finally speaks.
“How long—” He clamps his jaw shut like he’s fighting the question. He regroups and then asks, “Did he look…strong enough?”
I could pretend I don’t know what he means, but I understand exactly what he’s asking. I could lie, but I don’t think that will help anyone.
“I don’t know,” I answer. “He was in pretty bad shape.”
Really bad. I’m not sure how long he will be able to hold on. I only hope that we’ll get to him before it’s too late.
Draven white-knuckles the steering wheel and stares blankly at the road.
“Is he… Is he the first?” I ask. “Do you know if other villains have been…”
“Tortured?” Draven’s nostrils flare. “Beaten, starved, water-boarded, electrocuted? Experimented on like they were some kind of lab animals instead of human beings?”
I shrink back a little at the venom in his words. And the images they paint.
“No,” he says after a minute. “Deacon isn’t the first.”
The subtext is clear. He might not be the first, but if Draven and Dante have anything to say about it, he will be the last. I never in a million years thought I would stand with villains, never thought I’d feel so desperate to save the life of one. Then again, I never thought I’d see the day when even a single hero would do something as awful as what I saw tonight. Whether this is a small group of rotten heroes or as widespread as Rebel says, I side with villains on this.
The torture has to stop.
Draven surprises me by continuing. “This shit has been going on for decades. Ever since the Collective formed and those assholes decided that some of you were in and the rest of us were out.”
That long? The Collective was created more than fifty years ago with the sole purpose of uniting heroes against villains. Fifty years of torture? My stomach lurches.
“I’m not one of them,” I say.
“You might as well be.” He pulls onto the highway that leads to my side of town. “Your mom is their very own Einstein, Edison, and Josef Mengele, all rolled into one.”
“Seriously? You’re comparing my mom to a sadistic Nazi freak?”
“If the unethical experiment fits…”
“You’re wrong,” I argue. “She’s not like that. She only wants to help people.”
“So she told you about the secret level then?” When I don’t answer, he laughs humorlessly. “Didn’t think so. Dr. Swift may want to help people, but only if those people are heroes. How many of her magical potions and pills have been used to help villains?”
I open my mouth to answer, but he cuts me off.
“Zip. Zilch. Zero. Every possible word for none at all.” He shakes his head. “How many have been used to hurt villains? To kill us?”
It’s the word “us” that breaks me. No longer are villains some nameless, faceless evil enemy. No, now villains are Draven and Dante. Deacon.
“I-I’m sorry,” I say. It’s lame, but it’s the truth. “I didn’t know. I never thought of it that way. If I had—”
“What?” he snaps. “You would have stopped the heroes? You would have given them the Kenna Swift stamp of disapproval?” He shakes his head. “Oh, wait. I know. You would have pulled that fire alarm a lot sooner. Of course, the only one who avoids getting burned in that situation is you.”
I get it. He’s hurting. He’s upset. But just because he’s one step from losing it is no excuse to take everything out on me. I’m on his side here.
I have to remind myself that he’s still a villain. Just because I feel bad for him doesn’t mean I trust him. And it doesn’t mean we’ll be on the same side once Deacon is free. This is a one-time-only partnership. Because while I may have discovered there are
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