Chapter Text
Occasionally, after spending multiple days planning a heist, Morgan would get a migraine. It was always a terrible experience but a necessary price to pay for the moments of genius that came to them after 40 hours of plotting. Those migraines felt like a sharp stone rolling along the inside of their head.
The stone currently in Morgan’s head had grown to fill the entirety of their skull and was slowly rotating, scraping away the bone.
It would be the worst pain Morgan had ever felt if not for the state of the rest of their body. Lungs on fire, arms and legs either bruised or numb, who knew if they still had fingers or toes. Morgan would open their eyes at some point, try to figure out what happened, but not yet.
Fresh pain stabbed into their stomach, tearing a scream out of Morgan. A voice accompanied it although Morgan couldn’t make out a word as they gasped for breath, caught between their bruised stomach and burning lungs.
“You have a tier?” The voice tried a second time.
Had they been kicked? Morgan figured they should answer as soon as possible to avoid further injury, it still took them a few moments to force out the single syllable;
“D”
“Hm, for disappointing. Can you open your eyes?”
Morgan couldn’t open their eyes, couldn’t feel their hands, couldn’t breathe.
“No”
There was no response this time. Morgan was beginning to hope the awful voice had left them to their fate when a cool hand pressed against their forehead and all the pain drained away in an instant.
Morgan took a lung full of air, it was salty and warm. As they breathed in another they noticed details the pain had obscured; they were laying on sand, they could hear waves nearby, and they were on their back with a shadow falling over their face.
Morgan opened their eyes and blinked up at the person tormenting them. A tall figure with a bored expression returned their gaze, apparently waiting for Morgan to fully wake up before trying to engage them in conversation again. Morgan didn’t speak, they stared, wondering why they felt so strongly that they had seen this person before, and how were their eyes glowing like that?
Morgan’s body reacted before their brain fully understood what they were seeing. When the eyes fully registered Morgan was already attempting to jump up and run. As if running would do anything against the only S-tier in the world. A hand like steel slammed into Morgan’s shoulder as they tried to jerk away, pinning them back down on the sand.
Morgan wracked their brain for information about the S-tier villain; their name was Alex, they had been a hero back in the day, they had a list of powers too long to memorize, and no known weakness. Judging by what Morgan had seen in the news they also took pleasure in making people’s lives, and deaths, as miserable as possible.
“Oh no, you’ll get to run in a moment. First I need to tell you the rules.” The S-tier’s voice was calm, just as it was when they were ripping apart heroes.
“Rules for getting shipwrecked on a beach? I think I was doing fine on my own thanks.” Morgan spat back.
“You would have died if I hadn’t come along so-”
“I would have been fine,” Morgan interrupted.
Alex froze, they looked annoyed and a bit confused as they replied; “Your leg was broken and you were bleeding profusely from a head wound, I am shocked I found you conscious.”
This gave Morgan pause, they hadn’t been that injured had they? A glance to the side showed the sand surrounding them was soaked in red. Alright, maybe it had been bad.
“Why did you heal me? Doesn’t seem like-”
“Stop talking.” Alex said sharply.
Perhaps they aren’t used to being interrupted, Morgan reflected.
Alex took a breath and continued; “You will have until the sun sets, three hours, to prepare. After sunset I will come for you. If I catch you I take back the life I saved, however I see fit. If you manage to avoid capture until sunrise tomorrow, I'll let you go. Understand?”
“And if I kill you?”
Alex grinned, “I cannot be killed but I’d love to see you try.”
They let go of Morgan’s shoulder and brushed off their hands.
“One last thing, since you are D-tier and will need all the help you can get, there is no way off the island. I advise you don’t waste your last few hours alive searching for something you won’t find. Good luck.”
With that Alex vanished, leaving Morgan laying on the ground with the sun shining directly into their eyes.
Morgan didn’t move, they took deep breaths, they clenched and relaxed their fists, they tried to stay grounded in the moment. Getting lost in a panic wouldn’t help anything, if Morgan was going to make it out alive they needed to stay calm. The chances of making it out alive were nonexistent but that was an issue for the future. Another deep breath. They could at least come up with a plan, whether or not they survived Morgan always felt better with a plan. There wouldn’t be a rescue, no one knew where they were, no one knew they were alive, no one wanted them alive- Morgan squeezed their eyes closed and took another breath.
A few moments passed before Morgan sat up, consciously pulling themself out of the terror spiral.
First; they’d confirm there was no way off the island, ‘always escape if you can’ was a rule they had long lived by.
Second; If there was no escape, they would try and find Alex's weakness. Morgan knew this was highly unlikely, if Alex did have a weakness why would they have a record of it on their murder island? But it had to go on the list as much as searching for an escape did.
Finally; if truly stuck on an island with an immortal and invincible foe, Morgan would avenge their own death before it happened. They didn’t know what that would entail yet but they would figure it out.
The plan helped. Morgan felt the usual heist adrenaline building in them. Surviving the night was a statistical impossibility, that meant it was the highest risk situation Morgan would ever face, it was exhilarating.
Morgan stood and took in their surroundings; the beach itself was quite small, framed by a forest of tropical trees. Beyond the trees a cliff face stretched the width of the island and high overhead. It was such a small piece of land that they would be able to explore the entire area without losing too much time. They started walking, scanning for anything useful as they went.
After thirty minutes they had the layout of the island memorized. The forest was segmented by a few well worn paths and hidden in the tree line was a dilapidated fishing boat. The cliff face cut through the forest in an unnaturally straight line. If Morgan wanted to get around it they either had to climb up or risk swimming in the water amidst large sharp rocks. These rocks also prevented Morgan from seeing if there was anything beyond the cliff to swim too, maybe the rest of the island was a plateau and inaccessible from the water.
They had hope though, there was a thin path that began at the base of the cliff. Morgan would set up traps in the forest to distract Alex and then climb the cliff, ideally finding a secret tunnel leading to a villainous lair with an escape submarine. Morgan could dream at least.
Morgan ended their walk back at the shipwreck. The presence of the boat felt intentionally taunting; there was enough wood and rope to build a solid raft if given a day or two. No one had ever gotten that far. Morgan pushed the thought away as they climbed into the cramped cabin, stepping directly onto something which broke with a loud snap. Looking down, Morgan's dread returned, it wasn’t a stick but a scorched bone. Two entire skeletons were curled together on the floor, whatever burned them must have been magic in nature because none of the wood surrounding the bodies had been touched by the flames. Morgan looked away before they could think too hard about their fate.
Avoiding all eye contact with the skulls Morgan grabbed anything they could use; rope, a small serrated knife, fishing line, and pockets-full of loose nails taken from select beams.
Once they had what they could salvage Morgan nearly ran out of the boat and resolved to avoid it for the rest of their life, however long that was.
The sun was visibly lower in the sky but Morgan wasn’t rushed yet, they had at least two more hours. They walked the forest paths once again, setting tripwires, weakening tree trunks and branches, using all the tools available to make as many small ‘death traps’ as possible. No one was supposed to die in a death trap, they provided time for a quick monologue and escape. Whenever Morgan trapped Barnaby they would monitor him, if Dog Boy got truly stuck a piece of the trap would ‘malfunction’ before it harmed him.
These traps didn’t have a failsafe, Alex was invulnerable, they wouldn't need an escape because, in all likelihood, they wouldn't be trapped. Morgan stretched a tree branch up at head height, they’d used a rock to imbed a few nails into it, if someone nudged the nearby branches it would dislodge and swing down at eye level. Or at least what they estimated Alex’s eye level was based on seeing the villain fight heros Morgan had met in person. Morgan knew these traps wouldn’t stop Alex, and that fact should be concerning, but all Morgan felt was slight relief. Morgan knew Alex would show no mercy, yet they didn’t want their vengeance to be gory. These traps were a distraction, they would find a better way to avenge their death if it came to it. They worked backwards, heading towards the path up the cliff. This was not the day to get stuck in one of their own traps, again.
Well over an hour later Morgan reached the base of the cliff. All they had at this point was the knife, which they pocketed, and a growing thirst, which they ignored. Running out of time Morgan began up the path. Sections of the rock were in the process of crumbling away. They clung to the stone as they climbed step by step. Each crevice in the rock brought Morgan a fleeting moment of hope that there would be a cave or tunnel, yet there was nothing.
Ahead they saw the path curve out of sight. That would be the connection to the rest of the island and Alex’s lair, Morgan was certain of it. They turned to look out over the island and ocean beyond, everything glowed pink and orange as the sun finally touched the line of the horizon. They had a few minutes. Morgan moved as quickly as they could to the curve ahead, to fall at this point would be gut wrenching but to not make it because they moved too slow would be just as tragic. As dusk began to settle in, Morgan turned the corner, took a few steps, and froze.
They had reached the end of the path. There were no hidden tunnels, no handholds to climb up, just a thin ledge of rock high above the waves. The cliff was not a plateau or mountain but a wall of rock that stretched above them several meters. The ledge Morgan was trapped on made up most of the width.
Morgan couldn’t go any further, but they could see the other side of the island from their position, if you could call it an island. A complex network of stone pillars extended out of the sea at odd angles. The stone was black yet even without direct sunlight it shined like crystal. And there, perched between the columns and defying the laws of physics, was a mansion. Morgan had found Alex’s lair but getting to it was another matter and they were out of time.
They turned back to face where the sun had been, now there was only the faint glow of the quickly fading light. Morgan ducked down and crawled back towards the cliff path, they stretched out into their stomach so they could just see over the edge to the forest below and watched for Alex’s arrival. They didn’t have to wait long.
Within minutes Alex teleported to the beach, directly above the patch of red sand. Morgan watched as they walked to the old fishing boat. They had set a trap in the boat; the boards on the ceiling were missing most of the nails and would collapse onto Alex if they stepped onto the cabin floor. From their perch Morgan watched as Alex walked around the boat but did not step foot inside. Apparently satisfied that Morgan wasn’t hiding among the bones, Alex began walking along the forest paths. Morgan held their breath, waiting for Alex to trigger one of their traps.
Alex moved through the forest with purpose, they didn’t stop at any point or look into the trees for Morgan. Everytime they approached a trap or tripwire Alex would narrowly step over, under, or around the danger without slowing their pace.
After a loop of the forest Alex finally moved to step onto a trap, they extended a foot and stepped directly onto the trip wires. Morgan held their breath as a large tree bow swung down at Alex’s head. It nearly made contact before disintegrating into particles of black ash. Alex didn’t blink as they destroyed not only the branch but the entire tree it was attached to. Alex didn’t need to react, Alex didn’t need a motion to use their powers.
“Fuck” Morgan breathed, in awe despite themself.
Below Alex’s head tilted so those bright golden eyes were looking up, directly at Morgan’s hiding spot.
“Fuck!” Morgan shouted as they scrambled back from the edge, they made it a few feet before hitting a pair of legs. Morgan rushed to their feet and turned to face a grinning S-tier villain. A villain who immediately took a step forward. Morgan, foolishly, took a matching step backwards.
Their left heel went over the edge of the cliff. Morgan swung their arms out to try and balance and Alex, as smoothly as they did everything, reached out and grabbed Morgan’s collar, twisting the fabric and holding them suspended over the edge. Morgan was held in place, body leaning dangerously over the waves below and feet barely purchased on solid ground. Morgan held desperately onto Alex’s wrist.
“Did you lie about your tier? Surely a real D-tier hero would have power? Unless your power is child-like traps and loose tree branches?” Alex mocked.
“Villain.” Morgan gasped out.
“What?”
“I am a D-tier villain.”
Alex looked ready to argue the idea further, Morgan used the distraction while they had it. They let go of Alex’s arm with one hand, reaching into their pocket.
“Are you going to drop me or not? Because you would not be the first person to try and kill me with the ocean today and I honestly expect more from the S-tier” Morgan said with a grin, they almost had it.
Alex was staring at them, “What is wrong with you?”
Morgan didn’t answer, instead they pulled the old knife from their pocket and swung it upwards. Alex didn’t react to the blade, why would they? But Morgan didn’t slice at Alex’s arm, they sliced into their own shirt, the hand on Alex’s wrist pushing away and with the sound of tearing fabric Morgan was free from Alex’s grasp.
Free to fall backwards into the ocean as two glowing eyes tracked their descent. Seconds passed, the air freezing cold, the wind all Morgan could hear, and they hit the water for the second time.
Morgan didn’t swim as the waves pushed them down. They felt numb. Maybe they had never left the water. Maybe this had all been a hallucination. Perhaps being submerged had snapped them back to the harsh reality that Morgan had only ever been drowning. That only minutes had passed since Morgan had been tossed aside by their parents. That it was their parents who were killing them, not an S-tier villain.
It was this thought that pulled Morgan out of the fog, they weren’t going to be killed by their family. They refused. Better to be hunted for sport by a super villain than give their parents the satisfaction. Morgan kicked their legs and began to swim.
Swimming in the water, keeping their body away from the towering rocks, was the most difficult obstacle Morgan had faced that day. They knew how to swim, it was a valuable skill for anyone who made a habit of dramatic exits, yet the never ending swells of water tossing them closer to the cliff face was a test of strength, endurance, and luck.
Morgan managed to fight their way to the calmer water shadowing the stone pillars. Exhausted, they clung to the rock. Thankfully the pillars weren’t smooth but rough and weathered with plenty of handholds. Morgan could attempt the swim back to the beach or climb up. It wasn’t a difficult choice, they reached up to a crevice in the stone and began pulling themself out of the water.