Strike

Chapter 1

Mal, daughter of the villain Maleficent, skimmed through the large book her mother had forced into her care. The pages seemed endless, each one carrying a different set of rules she had to follow.

The preteen sighed; for a place that only harbored villains, there sure we're a lot of strict rules to remember. Her flipping slowed s she came upon her desired page;

rule #4725

Mal groaned, slamming her head against the table. The book words however, were now planted in her mind.

A villain will never offer assistance or help anyone, good or evil.

A startling knock broke her upset resolve as she sat up, smoothing down her clothes as she opened her mouth to speak. "I'll get it!" She yelled upstairs to the caretaker, Madame Medusa. She huffed at the silent response. "My mother made terrible friends!" She made sure to shout the remark, and grinned with confidence as a resounding crash followed.

"No dinner!" Medusa screeched, but still didn't bother to come down. Mal rolled her eyes. "I'll just steal some." She retorted.

Again came the rude silence. Mal decided not to say more as she weaved through the piles of junk laid around her house, and gripped the door handle, so hard her knuckles turned a pale white. Needless to say she wasn't expecting what awaited her.

Her brow furrowed. "What?" She mouthed as she took in the scene. A young bow with dusty hair stood before her, barley able to keep upright as he heaved. Mal's terror was small, but it returned full force as she caught streaks of crimson blood trailing down his face.

"Help." He croaked, before staggering a few steps, then tumbling into Mal's arms. His breathing was shallow as his consciousness was lost, and the Villain's daughter shook, failing to hide her fear.

Her mind whirled. What should she do? What could she do? She stared down, whipping back as her violet hair cascaded over the red fluid.

"Um..." Sweat beaded on her forehead, People were beginning to become curious, and they watched her with ambition, awaiting her decision.

Mal suddenly smirked, glaring the outsiders away as she held the boy tighter. "Well..." she started, waving a dismissive hand outward. "I may have read the rule, but I've never practiced it yet."

Her eyes flashed an acid green. "After all, wouldn't helping someone and rebelling against the villains be truly evil?" She unleashed a dark laugh and walked back into her home, the boy in her arms as the door closed with a sharp click.

Mal dabbed the wet cloth against the boy's forehead, wincing as it came up with fresh blood. The sight should've made her giddy with joy, but now it only seemed to make her gut twist.

A loud groan broke out from the young villain. Mal took a step back as he rubbed his head, eyes remaining closed.

"W-Where am I?" His voice was light, but held a twinge of a cold undertone, which made Mal question what she had put herself into. She kept quiet as the boy twisted his head, gasping as he caught sight of his caretaker.

He scrambled back, wounds screaming in agony. "Who are you!" He yelled out, only to switch to a hard scream as he pushed himself over the limit.

Mal finally moved, and laced her hands over the boy to stop him from causing more pain. "Stop." She said, glad she had inherited her mother's forcing tone. The boy's screeching lowered to a whimper and his hair swayed over his eyes.

"You're going to give yourself more gashes." She coughed as she came to a realization on what she had spoken. "Not that I care."

The young villain finally had a spark of rememberance. "You," he pointed a finger to Mal, form shaking. "You are the one I saw!"

She turned away, but couldn't resist looking back as the boy's breaths became short. "What's on my...face?"

Mal grasped a new cloth, dipping it under the running faucet. She slammed it on the boy's head, him sputtering in protest. "Stop it!" He shouted, backing away to the end of the couch as Mal sighed.

"Look," She threw the cloth away, then placed her hands on her hips, glaring. "Do you want to be healed so you can go home or die?"

She was stunned when the boy averted his eyes, his posture now slumped. Mal's own eye twitched. "You don't want to leave." She deadpanned. The boy nodded feebly, shrinking.

Her eyes softened, but guilt still laid in her stomach. What would her mother think of these good actions? "Alright then, let's start with your name and heritage." She gestured for him to answer.

"Carlos." He said the word timidly, as if he hated what the name attached him to. He then pulled on the strands on his white hair. "Carlos De Vil."

Mal paused, breath hitched along her throat. "De Vil?" Carlos nodded in confirmation, but still frowned. "Cruella De Vil is your mother?!" She couldn't hide the gleam in her expression. The last of the top evils, and she had met her son.

"Yeah." Carlos growled, eyes flashing dangerously. Mal grinned. For a young kid he sure had a lot of intimidation at his disposal. "Who are yours? I have a right to know if your crazy mind tricks made me tell mine."

Maleficent's daughter smirked. "I'm Mal." She leaned forward, tracing her finger over Carlos' cheek. The boy slapped it away without a thought. "Daughter of Maleficent."

His hard demeanor vanished. Carlos finally seemed to look her over, taking in the similarities between the girl and her mother. "Well," he took a taunting tone. "I imagined someone different."

Mal nearly crushed his chin, pulling the poor boy forward. "Well, I'm better than what you would've ever imagined."

Carlos nodded. "Alright." He sighed as Mal released her hold. The preteen then crossed her arms. "Why exactly wouldn't you want to go home? I mean, this please is horrible, don't get me wrong." She brushed the smoke that had wandered in from outside from her face. "but it's kind of the only place you got."

The boy barked a laugh. He then bit his lip to stop an upcoming scream to express his hurt. He gestured for the cloth as he continued the conversation. "I love it here, just not home."

His words left the two in an eerie quiet.