Short stories

I

The villain stared up at the hero, eyes trailing along the blade held at his throat. The saviour of the city has finally taken down the villain. He searched the others face for any emotion, any at all. There was no pride, no joy, no look of accomplishment. His face was stone, eyes holding nothing but anger and exhaustion. This isn't the hero he knew. This isn't the hero he enjoyed messing with. No, this was someone else. Someone broken, someone who has lived through pain and carries regret with them wherever they go. The hero he knew was gone. The villain struggled to sit up as he pushed his back against the wall. His lungs ached at every inhale. With his final few breaths he spoke,

"There hasn't been a whole lot of complaining.....from you....about the things you've lost."

The hero stared at him, no indication of movement. In a low voice, he spoke without emotion,

"I didn't have anything left to lose."