The insecure man raises from the ground, perceptibly shaking. His mind is an anxious mess of rambling thoughts that I do not bother to listen to. The reprehensible being grasps one of the few oil lamps he was using to see despite the absence of electrical current.
"Who are you?! This is a private proper..!"
Foul Play teleports on his desk, a peculiar curved glass sculpture topped with a wooden surface, convincing him to shut up and, also, set his lantern down in terror. Recoiling and slouching into his leather armchair, he shields his sweaty, bald head with his sweaty, beefy arms, sticking to his undersized dress shirt's inside.
He blurts out, "W-who do y-you work for?!"
Cheryl folds her legs, lowering her rear end with her entire body remaining almost vertically aligned. Her heels are pressing down on an arrangement of paperwork, but she is able to delicately pick up the document he was working on before our arrival.
The young woman bursts into electronic laughter, startling the businessman to the extent that the pallor of his skin increases and his dry lips twitch uncomfortably in fear.
/Come see this!/ she bids me, lifting herself up again to stand in her slim splendor above the small, horrified man.
My friend holds the sheets between her fingers and shows them to me in her back, slightly digging her long black French tip nails into the paper. I cease walking, and my brown eyes land on the writing. David Merc was poring over his... Last will and testament? I would almost pity the guy, if he were not a major drug supplier.
The vigilante whips the paperwork back in front of the man to remind him of their significance, sneering, "Oh, David... How fitting."
Laughing some more, she throws the sheets at him, and the papers flutter and twirl into the air. While he scrambles to catch them, Cheryl telekinetically steals his three cellphones, dropping them at my feet. She swiftly revolves around, decidedly sitting down on the desk to watch me, her legs hanging off the surface.
/Break those./
I raise my left foot over the closest phone, but my partner intervenes.
/Not like that, hon./
I chuckle awkwardly.
/Right, my mistake./
I take four steps back and open my hands, directing my palms at the devices. I inhale. Exhale. Inhale... On the awaited exhale, two blasts, rays of blue kryptonite energy, shoot out of my hands. Bursting onto the pile of portable phones, they reduce the cellphones to chips of melting plastic and silvery dust, within fifteen seconds. The wooden floorboards are barely scathed by the combustion with a light outline of sooth and flickering blue cinders.
Wow. I did that..!
I swallow softly, switching my attention to the other people in the room. From our hostage's point of view, a stranger wearing an eery mask just obliterated a pile of electronics with either magic or an unknown powerful technology and is now staring at him intently. This perception prompts his reaction.
"Please don't kill me!" he hysterically screams, grabbing Cheryl's left arm with both of his clammy hands.
His arms, moving unnaturally, are forcefully pried off her and snap behind him, as though she applied transparent handcuffs to his chubby wrists. The rotund male tips backwards and falls in his seat.
I close up the space remaining between the desk and I, as foul Play spins on her buttocks and scatters his documentation further. She violently stabs her high heel boots into the arms of David's leather chair, inciting him to sputter in sheer panic:
YOU ARE READING
Fascinating Villains
Action[ONGOING] "You're delusional. I should've seen it before..." ~~~~~~~ Tanza is an agender paramedic. They rely solely on themselves, and the last thing they need is for an incredibly attractive supervillain to disturb their (relatively) quiet existen...
