S and D Tier: A Small Collection

D and S: A Day As Me

The D tier villain shambles into his apartment, bags of groceries in his hands and tired bags under his eyes. After a long day of dealing with heroes, fending off family drama after we wedding incident with Frisbee Boy, and on top of that having to restock the fridge, finally he was home. Home sweet apartment home.

Shrugging out of his damp green jacket, he hung it over the heater vent in the hall by the door and kicked off his work boots with ease. Now, in the comfort of his own home and out of the rain that had been a terror all day, he used his telekinetic powers to suspend the groceries in the air while he worked on checking the weather for tomorrow and messages he missed on his way here, walking farther into the apartment with the groceries fallowing behind as he ruffled his damp hair. He set them down on the counter gently and began to wave his hands for doors to open and the food to just put itself away as he deleted every one of his father's messages, frowning darkly at the one from his sister.

'Hey, so I get it. You're a villain. That did not give you the right to bring that damn asshole S Tier jerk to my wedding! Do you know how hard it was to not reveal my secret identity?! It was suppose to be my special day and he had to go and in front of everyone call him Frisbee Boy! It was degrading having to make up a story that he used to in collage play ultimate frisbee, do you know how degrading that is?! You nearly ruined his reputation! He is a damn good super hero and I do not want you to EVER do that again! I don't care if he got us a very expensive and practical gift, you do not ever bring that guy with you ever again! Date, friend, or whatever he is!'

A smirked crossed the Burnett's face as he sniffles a bit. Gods was it great to know he had such power as to whip up Tornado Terra to this extent just by bringing Alex to a wedding and saying one damn thing. And they had gotten them a expresso machine for a wedding gift, those ungrateful heroes. A tickle started in the back of his throat and he groaned.

Did he have any peroxide? He'd need to gargle with it, he couldn't get sick now. He had to collect rent from the tenants tomorrow and like tigers if they saw weakness they pounced on the opportunity. Sure, they were scared of him cause he's got muscles, a scar across his nose, and a menacing aura, but when your sick it all goes away. That and he needed to do his paper deliveries to the editor.

Speaking of, he walked away from the kitchen after the groceries were done and tossed the phone towards the wireless charger on the coffee table, using his will to make it land gently on the charger without breaking it. He sat at the desk out looking the cityscape and checking over his manuscripts for the news stories he was working on. It was hard enough managing the apartments, but he was hoping to get published on top of that. With all this heroics and villainous deeds, people needed an escape more than ever. So, as a kind of way to offer a bit of solace for his crimes, he had written a high fantasy novel of a prince who has to fight his 'heroic' family for their injustice and bigotry against their oppressed fearful people. Few dragons, good chunk of magic, don't forget the chosen one archetype and presto! You have a edible yet not overly complicated start to a trilogy.

He sneezed and grumbled as his hand hit the keys on the laptop and deleting a line of text. He fixed the line and continued working, grumbling more in annoyance as he feels the drain of the day catch up to him. He leaned back in the chair and stretched out, looking up at the ceiling. He sniffles again and sighed. He needed to change out of his wet cloths, he was starting to catch a cold. Probably already did by the way a small headache was lingering at the edge of his senses, waiting for the right time produce painstaking annoyances.

He left the room, his phone buzzing again as a phone call ran through a few times. When did he get so tired? When he entered the bedroom he ruffled through the closet for fresh comfy cloths, pulling out his AC/DC Band tee shirt and star pajama pants with the matching boxers. It was necessary to match, and he wasn't going to pretend it wasn't important. Tossing the wet clothing into the tub, he made a note he would need to go to the laundromat later and do a load of laundry.