The Storybook Dimension

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Not Today

Chapter 3: An Untitled Tragedy in Three Parts (Part 1)

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The world is a tragedy to those who feel, but a comedy to those who think. — Horace Walpole

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Will Stronghold

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Torture is an interesting thing. It breaks some and makes others malleable, even cooperative. In certain people it only hardens resolve, making the victim cling even tighter to their principles. I know this from experience. Some supervillains torture indiscriminately, but I am not one of those.

I don’t hold back out of kindness or any sense of nostalgia. I know myself better than that and, more importantly, I know Warren better than that. I would be willing to bet my fortune on the fact that he is, even now, planning some sort of escape.

I could torture him, but he expects that.

It was always expected that I would become a great hero and follow in my parent’s footsteps. Instead, I have become one of the most feared villains in the world. I’ve killed more superheroes than I can count, and that’s not even including civilians and sidekicks. I’m in the running to be the greatest mass-murderer of the twenty-first century. At this rate, my record might even hold into the twenty-second.

Warren, on the other hand, was always expected to be a powerful supervillain, just like his father. You can see how that turned out. Warren was always determined to defy expectations and to walk his own path. That’s how he wound up locked in a cage in my laboratory.

It took me a long time to realize that expectations are the past trying to influence your actions. Warren may choose to defy them, but they don’t apply to me. I haven’t forgotten the past.

I’ve obliterated it.

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Royal Pain/Gwen Grayson

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Nobody notices me. Nobody notices Gwen, either, and we’re very good at sneaking. We have to be. There’s no other way to survive this place.

We’re good at building things and finding things out. That’s why Devastator keeps us alive. One day, we’ll know too much, and Devastator will decide that it’s time for us to die.

Maybe that day is today.

I can hear them talking. Maybe I’ll sneak closer, just a little closer, and watch. Let me tell you what I saw, so that you can know a secret, too. Do you remember what they used to say about secrets and three men and having to kill two of them? I think I killed all three. I don’t remember. Dead men look pretty much the same after a while, you know.

Shhhh! What’s wrong with you? Why won’t you be quiet? We’re going to get caught.

They’re at it again. Look.

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“You’ll pay for this. Maybe it won’t be me, but someone will stop you.”

“Like who?” Devastator is speaking. I don’t need to see his face to know that. All I can see from my hiding place is his boots. The boots are made of black leather, with dull brown flecks. The little flecks may be dried, but I know they’re blood. I can smell it, taste it.

I wonder if Phoenix’s blood will taste any different from the others. Maybe, if I beg long enough, Devastator will let me try it. I doubt it. He’s keeping this one all to himself.

The boots are still talking. They’re giving a standard supervillain speech. It’s not as good as mine, but it’s familiar, common. I’ve heard it a hundred times before. “The Bureau of Superheroes is too afraid to even make a statement against me. You were always the thorn in my side, the last obstacle in my conquest of this city.” The blood sings a little chorus, drowning out the rest of what Devastator says. “… What do you have to say to that, hero?”

There are two sets of shoes now. They’re close, closer than they should be. Maybe Phoenix will try to escape. He’s opening the cage? He shouldn’t do that. He’s insane, but I don’t question the master. It’s not my place.

Another voice. That must be Phoenix again. There’s no one else here except for me, and I’m not talking to her. “I don’t have to say anything. I think what happened to Layla says it all.”

Devastator is furious. “I didn’t kill Layla!” He shouts, throwing Warren against the cage bars. I’ve never seen anyone make him so angry and live.

The hero gets to his feet, a little unsteadily. He wipes his mouth. There’s blood on his sleeve. “No, instead you betrayed everything she ever believed in.” Devastator grabs him and hits him again. Then he takes him back to the cage.

He’s locking him in? I thought he was going to kill him. That’s boring. But interesting. Actually, it’s just interesting. This prisoner is different, special. He means something to Devastator, so he means something to me.

Maybe we can use that.

Phoenix is in the cage now, leaning against the bars at the back. I can hear his breathing – it’s labored and shallow. He thinks he has it rough. He doesn’t know how lucky he is.

After a while, Devastator turns away and leaves the room. His boots go with him. He’s still angry; his footsteps are harsher, heavier than normal. He’ll probably go kill someone.

I think I’m going to hide somewhere else now.

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To Be Continued

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