HERO COMPLEX

iv. trust no one

[SEBASTIAN]

Let me try to explain. My role as a villain is somewhat limited. When I become Rouge Terror (I know, it's a stupid name) I have to be extremely careful while "wreaking havoc" on the city. Known and classified villains can't be arrested and are there to balance out the heroes, but can still fall into a web of legal trouble very easily. I fall into that category. The National Superhero Alliance assigned me to Riptide and my job is basically to just annoy the crap out of him and be the dark to his light.

So I do small things, like steal purses from little old ladies, put graffiti on walls and do all sorts of other minor misdemeanors. Then he catches me, puts me in a block of ice and leaves me to thaw somewhere in the city.

Sound like fun? Yeah, no.

My dad still lives in the glory days, where heroes and villains had no classifications and no jobs and were just passionate about either saving the world or destroying it. Now we have to be very careful that our "evil" stunts don't use taxpayers dollars.

Sometimes I just want to do something bigger, actually important. Sometimes I don't really care whether its for good or evil.

Today I was working on an especially intricate spray painting of a penis on the wall of an alley. My artistic abilities were somewhat limited, but I didn't let that stop me.

I heard footsteps behind me, and I braced myself for Riptide's irritatingly kind voice. Instead it was a girl's voice that interrupted my endeavors.

"Nice painting," she said, and I whirled around to see a girl that looked no older than twenty five than me smirking at me, face half covered by a large pair of sunglasses.

"Thanks," I said sarcastically. "I'm the next Picasso."

She gave me a dry laugh and whipped out a spray paint can of her own. "You are Rouge Terror, correct?"

"The one and the only."

"That is just about the dumbest name I've ever heard."

I clenched my fist subconsciously. Okay seriously, I get it. I suck. Screw you, Universe. "And what is your highly intelligent and creative name?"

"Astoria," she said simply, shaking the can of spray paint in her hand.

I didn't speak. I had to admit, her name was the perfect blend of sophisticated and mysterious.

"I need help with something," she said, effortlessly writing clearly on the brick wall.

"What kind of something?" I asked, confused. Who was this chick?

"Something evil," Astoria said, cheshire cat grin broadening her face.

"Then I guess I'm your guy," I said uneasily. "Are you a new villain or something?"

She shrugged as she put the final touches to her graffiti. "I guess you could call it that. Call me by sunrise tomorrow if you are in."

"I'm going to need some more details--" I stopped abruptly when I realized she was gone. Her business card had miraculously appeared tucked into my pocket.

"Girls," I muttered, before looking up to see what she had painted.

A message was scrawled in an ominous red handwriting: An icy place despite the heat will turn to rubble at your feet. The golden statue holds the key, nested under the grandest tree. You have twenty four hours.

I was impressed. I would have never have thought to rhyme key with tree.

Droplets of water hit the back of my neck and I groaned as Riptide lowered himself next to me and swore.