Her hero. He’s all she ever talks about. He’ll save her. He’ll come to her rescue just in the nick of time. He always has. He always will. Even when I’m evicting her from her house or tying her to the railroad tracks. “Dudley will save me.” And he does. Not that I know how he does it. I, Snidely Whiplash, am much smarter than he is. He’s a dimwit. And that is being generous. If I could just get him away from that blasted horse. He seems to be the real hero. That horse and dumb luck. Argh! Then again… Perhaps I should just stop picking on Nell. That would be the ticket. No Nell, no need for her hero. Simple. But alas. My need to defeat her hero is greater than my mind’s insistence to leave her alone. Bah! If only I was not created this way. (If only I had different writers.) Her hero. I’ll always be defeated by her hero. And that doggone horse.

They called me a villain, but all I saw were the blind, groping hands of the masses, patting themselves on the back for their mediocrity. They didn’t see the world as I did: a tapestry of potential, a canvas waiting for the masterstroke of chaos. I, Victor Malachi, was the artist they feared. And tonight, I would paint my masterpiece.

From my penthouse overlooking the city, I surveyed my kingdom. The lights twinkled like stars, oblivious to the decay lurking just beneath the surface. They celebrated their trivialities—weddings, promotions, birthdays—while I watched their complacency grow like a cancer. All it took was a little nudge to bring it all crashing down.

I leaned back in my leather chair, fingers steepled in front of me, a smug smile curling my lips. The plan was simple, yet elegant: a virus that would expose their deepest fears. It had taken months to develop, and tonight would be its grand debut during the city’s annual gala—a gathering of the elite, the very people who had shunned me.

Ah, yes, the gala. An event drenched in pretense, where the powerful sipped champagne and congratulated themselves for their “contributions” to society. It was the perfect stage for my show. I had secured an invitation under an alias, of course—one of the perks of being an unassuming genius.

As I donned my mask, a sinister creation crafted from obsidian and silver, I felt the thrill of anticipation surge through me. This was my moment. I slipped into a sleek black suit, the fabric hugging me perfectly, a second skin that whispered of power. I was no longer Victor; I was the Harbinger, the embodiment of their worst nightmares.

Upon entering the gala, I was met with a sea of laughter and chatter, a cacophony of ignorance. I weaved through the crowd, exchanging pleasantries with those who would never recognize the monster I had become. Their smiles grated on my nerves, each one a reminder of the disdain I had endured for so long. They would pay for their arrogance.

With a flick of my wrist, I activated the device hidden beneath my cufflink. A low hum emanated from my pocket, a signal to release the virus. It would infiltrate their smartphones, their tablets—every connection they relied on. They would be exposed, their secrets laid bare for all to see.

The room began to dim as I made my way to the center of the gathering, the laughter fading into an uneasy murmur. I raised my glass, my voice cutting through the thick atmosphere like a knife. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for gathering here tonight. I have a surprise for you, one that will reveal the true nature of your existence!”

Gasps echoed through the hall as I pressed a button on my device. The screens adorning the walls flickered to life, and the faces of the city’s elite filled the room—faces twisted in anger, betrayal, and deception. Their secrets spilled like blood, a torrent of infidelity, corruption, and greed.

“This is who you are!” I declared, my voice rising above the chaos. “You have buried the truth beneath layers of lies, but tonight, you will face it. You will see yourselves for what you truly are: hypocrites cloaked in virtue!”

Panic erupted. People scrambled for their phones, their expressions shifting from disbelief to horror as they faced the fallout of their hidden lives. I reveled in the turmoil, the chaos I had orchestrated unfolding magnificently before me. The once-gleaming ballroom had transformed into a battlefield of shattered reputations.

I could hear the frantic whispers, the desperate pleas for forgiveness. They were powerless against the truth, and I was the one wielding it like a sword. It was beautiful—like watching a symphony of despair play out in real time.

As the mayor, a man I had long despised, stood trembling and stuttering, I stepped closer, savoring the moment. “Did you think you could silence me? Did you think your wealth could insulate you from the consequences of your actions?” I leaned in, my voice a low hiss. “Tonight, you will learn that I am not just your nemesis; I am your reckoning.”

In that instant, the lights flickered violently, a signal for my followers to emerge from the shadows. They surged forth, hooded figures cloaked in darkness, ready to enforce the chaos I had unleashed. The rich and powerful were no match for the fury of those they had oppressed.

I stood tall, the architect of their ruin, the orchestrator of this beautiful disaster. The world outside would see their downfall, and in that moment, I was invincible. I had taken the power they had hoarded for themselves and turned it back on them.

As I watched the elite crumble before my eyes, I felt a rush of exhilaration. This was only the beginning. I had sown the seeds of discord, and from this chaos, I would rise. The Harbinger would not be forgotten; I would become a legend, a name whispered in fear.

And as the screams of the elite filled the air, I couldn’t help but laugh—a deep, resonant sound that echoed through the hall like a symphony of triumph. The world had underestimated me, but now they would learn the true meaning of power. I had become the villain they always feared, and I would relish every moment of it.

"Well, well, look at you, laid out like a sucker who walked into the wrong neighborhood. Vulnerable, exposed. Bet you're wondering how I got this close, huh? Let me tell you, it was a breeze. Getting past your so-called security, slipping in under the radar—it’s what I do. I can get in anywhere, anytime. And now, here you are, completely in my hands. You could try to fight, scream for help, but you and I both know it wouldn't do a damn thing. How does it feel, knowing you're trapped with no way out? It’s almost poetic. You really thought you could get away from this? From me? How naive."

"But here’s the kicker—you knew I was coming, didn’t you? You’ve been expecting me, playing the part of the scared little lamb. But it was all an act, wasn’t it? You knew I’d show up, and you were ready for me. That’s why I’m in this mess now, isn’t it? Caught in your little setup, like a rat in a trap. I gotta hand it to you, that was smart—really smart. You turned the tables, and now I’m the one who can’t move, who can’t get out. The hunter becomes the hunted—it’s like something out of a damn movie. I’d love to say this isn’t over, that I still got a card up my sleeve, but who are we kidding here?"

"But there’s more to this story, isn’t there? Something you’ve known all along. Why am I still standing here, talking instead of finishing the job? It’s because I can’t. You already won. The moment you flipped the script, the moment you decided to fight back—you killed me.

Yeah, that’s right. That moment you took control, when you turned the tables and made me the patsy. Now, I’m nothing but a shadow of what I once was, a ghost haunting my own failure. I can’t touch you, can’t hurt you, can’t take a thing from you. I’m powerless.

It’s almost laughable, right? All the power I thought I had, gone in a flash because of you. And now, I’m stuck in this loop, reliving my downfall over and over, knowing I’ll never change a thing. You won, and now, I’m just a washed-up reminder of a threat that’s long gone."

I’m going to win Even if I have to begin again I will not lose I’ll pillage and abuse

I’m the villain Not me but him He’s the winner I’m the sinner

As i see the woman cry as i see the kids walk back and they’re faces as they held on to the cops i discover no one’s fake Ok, how do i explain It’s just that every human thinks the same But sometimes we don’t know how to act There are these things called misunderstandings There is also something called childhood Everyone acts so their hearts and soul feel good There are introverts and extroverts What affect us is experiences I regret all things i do as i kid i wished to be superman But i guess i’m now the evil man with my face of twenty demons and my heart of the hardest rock i wish one thing only that at my door someone knocks. i really feel so lonely attention is my greatest desire feeling loved at least by God. my life is based on what they give me All i do is fight for my belongings defend my body control the tears who try to run out And of cource harm the ones who look so happy

I've always been fascinated by the perfect crime, the kind that leaves everyone baffled, whispering in dark corners about the one who got away. They call me the Phantom, a name I've earned for my ability to vanish into the night after executing the most elaborate heists.

Tonight, the city is alive with the buzz of oblivious prey, and I'm ready to strike again. The target: a priceless painting, whispered to be cursed, that has eluded many before me. But they were not me. I have planned this for months, studying every inch of the museum's blueprints, memorizing the guards' routines, and preparing for every possible contingency.

As the clock strikes midnight, I slip through the shadows, a ghost among men. The thrill of the hunt courses through my veins as I disable the alarms with a practiced hand. The painting beckons me, its eyes following my every move, almost challenging me to claim it.

But just as I reach out to grasp my prize, I hear it—the faintest sound of footsteps. Someone else is here, someone who's not supposed to be. A rival, or perhaps an unexpected hero trying to foil my plan? No matter. They don't know who they're dealing with.

The game of cat and mouse begins, a dance of danger and deception. I am always one step ahead, leading them through a maze of my own design. They think they're closing in, but I'm merely toying with them, savoring the sweet taste of impending victory.

As dawn approaches, I make my escape, the cursed painting in my possession. The city will wake up to the news of the Phantom's latest conquest, and they'll wonder, in hushed tones, if I'll ever be caught.

But I know the truth. I am the master of the shadows, the architect of fear. And I am invincible.

Hector stared at the large screen in front of him and tapped a finger on the armrest of his black chair repeatedly. A news report was playing from the east side of Waterdales low income neighborhoods. Condemned buildings and crumbling bridges were the backdrop as the reporter read her speech, “Mayor Hurley Muriel has already been on site, but could only comment that the city didn’t have the budget to follow through with the major infrastructure bill he promised during his campaign. In other news-“

Turning off the projector with a scowl spreading across his face, Hector mumbled to himself. Walking across his lair look a few minutes. He stopped to check on a few experiments and tests in the lab, which was stark white in contrast to the black and red theme present elsewhere, before making his way to a metal door with a glowing exit sign above it. Opening the door revealed a large garage off the back of the lair.

Scanning the vehicles at his disposal, a black sports car, a stolen military helicopter, an experimental jet, a golf cart, he grinned and nodded when his eyes fell upon the two-story robot suit. It was a blocky humanoid shape with a black body, one fist, one raygun, and a set of folding red wings atop two stocky legs.

“Perfect!” Hector exclaimed with a sly grin. He climbed a metal set of stairs onto a balcony yhat ran arpund the black suit to climb into th cockpit. Fumbling with a few switches and buttons, he finally managed to start it up with a loud humming and tumping as the hydraulics engaged. “Lets go!”

With the press of a button, the roof of the garage opened to reveal a bright blue sky without a cloud to be seen. Hector laughed as the jets on the back of the robotic suit fired up and the wings opened to allow the suit to propel into the ceiling. Circling around the jagged mountainside that Hector’s lair was built under, the suits black exterior cast a large shadow over the country side as it turned towards Waterdale.

Skyscrapers appeared on the horizon before long; a concrete jungle that stretched as far as the eye could see in both directions and glinted in the sunlight. From above it looked like a prestine, shinning beacon of hope: The foundation of order, technological advancement and justice in an otherwise underdeveoped and rural area.

Hector flew above the high rise apartments and office buildings to the other end of town, where his jets threatened to crumble an aging overpass bridge. “Disgusting,” Hector scoffed as he hovered above the bridge leading from the west to the east side of town. Everything to the west looked like ot was built days ago, while everything to the east looked like it was lost in time from an ancient, abandoned civilization.

Landing a mere stones throw away from the reporter he had just seen on the news, Hector charged his raygun and pointed it at an old building that was closed and condemned to be demolished at a date yet to be determined. With a grin, he turned the building into a pile of rubble.

Screams echoed throughout the city, but Hector ignored them. He kicked an old apartment building long devoid of tenants and laughed. “I’ve always wanted to do that,” he mused to himself, pointing his raygun at another long-abandoned building.

Before he could fire, something yanked his arm backwards and changed the trajectory of his blaster. Flying across the river that divided the rich from thr poor, Hector’s misplaced shot slammed into an occupied office building. People poured out of the building as it slowly caught fire.

“No!” Hector shouted, turning towards the wreckage.

“Thats right, you wont get away with this so easily,” a voice boomed as Hector got slammed into from behind and crashed into an overpass bridge that was likey to collapse anyway. Getting the robot back on its feet, turned to face a well-built man in white spandex and red tights floating above the damaged city block.

“Hero-man,” Hector spat through gritted teeth as he prepared for a fight. However, the screams from across the river were too distracting as his opponent started flying towards him.

With a maniacal laugh, Hector pointed towards the damaged skyscraper to where a pretty blonde girl is a power suit was clinging onto a damaged and crooked balcony railing for her life. Following Hectors direction, hero-man turned and saw the damsal in distress. “Curse you, Villian!” He cried as he swereved to save the beautiful citizen, who like many in that building, was screaming for help.

Chuckling to himself, Hector turned in the opposite direction and ran further into the dilapidated, poor part of the city. He fired his raygun at a few building that were fenced off and clearly vacant. Careful to avoid moving cars and fleeing citizens, he leaped into an old neighborood with houses that were collapsing in on themseves and stomped them into oblivion.

“Ignore them now, Mayor Hurley,” he screamed to himself with another maniacal laugh. His fun was interruped when he was slammed intk from behind again.

Crashing face first into a busy street, Hector rolled over carefully to avoif a bus full of people; however, he was immediately slammed into the bus and pinned. Unable to see where the passengers were, he stopped moving.

“Ive got you now!” Hero-man shouted from on top of the suit.

“Thats what you think,” Hector laughed. He pressed a button that ejected him from the robot and zipped through the air on his jetpack.

Leaving the bus and robot behind, Hero-man gave chase to Hector. Looking over his shoulder, Hector judged that he had a few seconds before he was caught. He dropped to the street and ditched his jetpack, blending in with a crowd of terrified people running about as Hero-man zoomed by over head.

Climbing into the nearest sewer, Hector slipped out of sight and used his smart watch to call his villian-mobile for the long drive home. As he waked through the sewer to the edge of town, he thought over the events of the day.

“Dont think anyone actually got hurt…” he muttered to himself. “Or they wouldn’t have if that oaf hadn’t grabbed my raygun… oh! My raygun!”

Hanging his head, Hector tried to turn off his brain for the remainder of the walk to his car. The drive home was just as somber. “That was my only prototype,” Hector lamented when he finally returned to his lair of solitude.

Sinking into his chair, he turned on the news. The news anchors read some quick facts about the events that happened. Notably, they critized the villain known as “Nefarious” for attacking the city and praised Hero-man for saving it. As Hectir was about to turn off the projector and return to his lab to rebuild a raygun, they switched to a live reporter.

“Thank you, this is Patricia Patrick reporting live from Waterdales East side,” a young brunette announced. “While the attack just hours ago seems devastaing, it might not be as bad as previously projected.”

Hector stopped and turned the volume up as the reporter continued.

“All if the buildings destroyed were schduled for demolition, saving the city hundreds of thousands of dollars in construction costs and moving up any potential rebuilding efforts considerably. Additionally, there seem to be no fatal injuries as a result of the attack. It makes you wonder if Nefarious really intended to-“

“Sounds like Hero-man showed up just in time,” one of the anchors interrupted as they cut away from the young reporter.

He then droned on about the stock market, prompting Hector to shut the projector off. However, a girn spread across Hectors face as he repeated her name out loud, “Patricia Patrick…”

I had gotten into another fight with my twin brother Sebastian I dont want to talk about it though, so as I always do when I get mad I come here to a lake which, as far as Im concerned, only I knew about. it was dark and gloomy the sand looked like the night sky the lake looked like an eternal abyss, the trees surrounded it engulfing the lake in shadows with the slightest bit of sunlight peaking through, the smell

of dead oak trees filled the air and the only sound to be heard was the croak of the frogs. Though this lake seemed deppresing, it felt calm, undisturbed, peacful. I can never let my cousins see me get angry, everybody thinks that I am just a sweet young princess which is something that I work hard to maintain. I find it hard to open up to people especially my family, whenever I try it just feels so wierd

and uncomfortable that I can't get the words out, but sometimes I feel like I might burst like a volcano if I dont talk about it, my therapists says its not good to bottle up my feelings, and that I should practice sharing little problems with my cousins until I am ready to face the bigger ones, but what does she know she is only paid to care about my mental health, besides she probably just accepted the job for

bragging rights and doesn't give a crap about some whining princess. I slip off my shoes and walked around the lakeshore looking for the smoothest pebbles I could find to toss in the lake, I managed to gather five, I threw the first one a marble like pebble with mixed colors of black and lavender, it bounced 1 2 3 4 times I watched as each bounce caused the lakes calm waters to ripple ever so gently. This helped calm my nerves down a little bit, but I still don't want to talk about what we fought about. I sat on my knees sobbing into my hands scrunching up a clump of the sky in my hands. "Whats wrong dear?" Echoed an eerie yet soothing voice "wh-who are you where are you?!" I replied my voice trembling, suddenly a ghost like figure of a woman underneath a cloak apeared, she pulled down the

hood to reveal her long diomand face with sharp features, her eyes like deep pools of pure despair just looking at them made me want to curl up underneath the trees shadows and die. Every cell in my body wanted me to run and never look back but I found that my legs stuck to the floor like glue "this is only a dream wake up wake up please" I screamed slapping myself, "stop with your pathetic attempt to wake

yourself up, for I am very real and not at all a ghost as your foolish mystical mind presumes" she snapped her soothing voice now a bit annoyed. I paused "who are you?" She rolled her eyes "just call me THE EMPRESS.

I knew the moment they knocked on my door, they were here for her. Of course they were. The girl has lived such a charmed life, why would that stop now? Yet, I couldn’t help myself-I had to give my own daughters a chance. They deserve one last shot at an easy, beautiful life. That’s all I ever wanted for them. My darling girls are the best things this world has ever created. I wept with joy the day they arrived when I discovered there were two of them. What a gift and a blessing. It’s not their fault their father caught the sweat and left us too early. In my foolish youth, I married a man that I loved, not thinking about my future children’s lives. When he left us, he left us with nothing. No incomes, no home, no family-just myself, my girls, and a world of grief. That’s why I did it. That’s why I brought us here-for them. Now here they are, face to face with the Duke as he seeks the mysterious girl with the glass slipper from the previous night’s ball. Oh I know it doesn’t belong to either of my girls, but they are beautiful, graceful, strong young women-any man with eyes can see their value. They deserve the opportunity to be seen. I also know, somewhere deep in my bones, that she’s the one they want-my stepdaughter. She has a way of getting everything good in this world. I just need some time. “we are so very honored to host you, your Grace” I curtsy low to the Duke as he enters into the drawing room “could I offer you tea and cakes?” “It is a lovely home indeed, Lady Tremaine. You are very generous to offer, thank you”. The Duke appears to be speaking mostly to himself as he wanders over to a far chair and takes a seat. He is visably exhausted. “If you’ll pardon me for a moment” I leave him to settle in and head the kitchen where I find her resting at the table. “Cinderella! we need tea and cakes at once!” She jumps up, startled by the sound of my voice. Her hair is onlt half contained by the scarf on her head. The rest falls, knotted and dirty to her shoulders. Pieces of the days work, linger on her-soot from the sweeping, lye from the washing, hay from the stables, and crumbs from the cooking. I feel myself smiling. I must admit it brings me a bit of joy to see her this way-dirty and laboring. It’s good for her. This child has had an easier life than most. Her father was smart with his household and left her wanting for nothing. She had a sunny childhood running through the grass, reading by warm fireplaces, and sleeping on feather beds. She never knew what it was to struggle. To work hard. That is what I’m teaching her. This is her time to grow and to work. This is her last chance for I fear she will soon become as spoiled as tabled milk. Lord knows my own daughters have had their fill of struggle-but oh how strong they have become. And now it is their turn to relax in luxury and enjoy living an easy life. I shake the thought away and return to he task at hand. “We have guests-important guests. They will be needing refreshments. Bring them to the sitting room when they are ready.” “Yes stepmother”, Cinderella’s reply is meek and raspy with exhaustion. She heads toward the kettle and begins preparing the tea. I know I don’t have much time. I head upstairs to collect my daughters for their time with the Duke before they are overshadowed by my charmed step-daughter. Just 10-minutes, that’s all they need. I know they aren’e destined for the palace, I’m an not a fool to think they should have more than they are due. But I would be a horrible mother if I did not grant them the opportunity to make an excellent impression upon the most important men in our kingdom. I bring them to the sitting room and introduce them to the Duke. They are charming and witty as the Duke denies their eligability for the prince. Before long, the tea come out and my girls are forgotten. As I expected, Cinderella is wicked away to the palace to lead an enchanted life where she will hardly need to lift a finger. As I watch her walk out my door I pray that she will remember her family and all that we have done for her. I pray that my lessons in hard work and practicality will stay with her, and she will hold a place in her heart for her dear sisters. She doesn’t, of course.

I look out of my window and see kids playing on playground and families all around talking. I hear the sounds of children playing games and singing. My body starts to see thing’s with anger and I feel a vain starting pop out of my forehead. I made snarling growl and quickly close the curtains of my window.

“Ugh. Those people are sooo-“

Sol pushes my room door wide open

“-so, so… HAPPY and CHEERFUL, why can’t they just realize the world is cruel and you can’t just trust people.”

“You seem more angrier then you usually do. Is something wrong?” said the elf with a worrisome tone.

From the corner of my eye, I spot her, Sol. A servant of mine, her curly blonde hair cut perfectly to her shoulders, laying on her soft pastel dress constrasting to her dark green eyes. Its reminiscent to when I found her in the woods long ago, crying. I dont pity crying children, but she- she was different. She plead for life, bringing her past into story, telling me of her abusive parents and she no longer had a place to call home, so she ran away as far as her black flat dress shoes could take her.

I was startled by the words that came out of Sol’s mouth. Her words struck close to my heart, all of the sudden I was reminded of my past. How could her parents be so abusive to Sol, especially at such a young age. Then it hit me, I was a reflection of my past self, a more innocent me. A little girl that once was happy within myself.