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He flapped his wings wandering in the sky of the city. He barely has the strength to keep up but as a hero he did not have the right to show weakness around people.
But he was tired. Tired of his life.
He slowly fell, looking for a safe place to end up close to a trash can in a random back alley of Boatem, letting himself fall against the wall. The street smelled like a mix of despair and drugs and the acidic odour of the trash, only adding to the smell of his sweat and the blood oozing from his wounds. But he didn't care.
He looked at the starless sky, savouring a rare moment of peace in his trash of a life, his superhero mask hiding his shadows under his hollow eyes and his empty hearth.
He knew this moment would never last much longer, he had to leave, he had to go on with this life.
“Poultryman, please help me!”
“Poultryman, please just have an interview!”
“Poultryman, please come, the president wants to congratulate you!”
He couldn’t remember the last time someone called him by his name.
He lighted up his cigarette. Gazing up at his dream long gone, like his ember blew away when those wings sprouted from his back. It was a simple dream; just a sunny balcony, the sweet smell of a cup of coffee, a buttered toast from his own bakery he might have opened with two friends he hadn't taken the time to talk to in years, one or two purring kitties.
He heard a sound and turned his head lazily in that direction.
The Jangler.
He was the worst villain of all Boatem and his archnemesis. The man freezed, watching Poultryman, unable to hide the shock of seeing the hero, portrayed as a perfect man by the media and the propaganda, sitting among trash in a dilapidated alley with a cigarette hanging from his lips. Their meeting seemed to be the result of chance or some bad twist of fate. The villain went immediately on guard, muscles tense, with the gaze of a predator ready to fight.
Poultryman looked back at him. A heavy silence assaulted them. Maybe he should start to attack. Maybe he should be afraid. Maybe he should report the man. Maybe he should—
“Want one?”
He opened the pack before handing off one and the lighter with a nonchalant gesture to the villain.
The man stood motionless for a moment, assessing the situation, his gaze shifting between the hero and the cigarette. He finally eased up, snatching the stuff from the hero's hand before sitting down just out of arm's reach.
The villain analysed the cigarette to make sure it's not poisoned.
“You know I'm not the type of person to do a stupid trick like that, Jangler. When I arrest or kill you, it will be with the mark of my fist on your face.”
The villain let out a quick laugh at this statement before lighting up the cigarette and putting it in his mouth.
“To your demise”
The hero responds with a cold laugh.
“You might be a little too late for that. But the same goes for you, I guess.”
The two remain in a comfortable silence for some time. Looking at their two plumes of smoke merge into one, and the sky with the star hidden behind the neon of the city. Both of them have a ton of questions to ask. “Why are you here? Why aren't you attacking? Why do you seem so sad?” Neither of them felt inclined to do it at the moment.
They didn’t know how much time had passed, sitting at a safe distance from each other but the smoke of the cigarettes was long gone. Both of them crushed it on the ground almost at the same time, leaving the remains behind, ready to be forgotten after a brief moment of glory.
“It's not very heroic of you to leave trash on the street, Mister The Best Hero of Boatem,” the villain teased.
“I would like to point out that you did the same thing. You're in no position to lecture me.”
The Jangler raised his hands in the air with a mix of amusement and frustration
“I’m a villain! It’s my job to do bad things, remember?”
The hero pointed at the villain, moving slightly closer.
“Yeah, well, you're really good at that. You're a pain in the ass to deal with.”
“Oh, a bad word now? I could almost die of shock, I never thought those dirty words could come out of your pretty mouth. You know, I begin to think you’d make a better villain than a hero. Luckily, I could really use a cute sidekick. ”
The hero gave a disgusted look on his face like if the villain asked him to eat worms.
“I'd rather die than be the sidekick of an insufferable idiot who puts more work on his look than on his brain like you!”
The villain turned to look at the hero face to face. His perfect and sarcastic smile was so big that it was half-hidden behind his glasses.
“I take that as a compliment from you, my dear.”
He completed this sentence with a wink almost invisible under his tinted glass. The hero, truly exasperated, put this hand on his head.
“Remind me why am I talking to you again?”
The villain shrugs
“Dunno! You're the one who offered me a cigarette, mind you. I never say no to a freebie, even when it comes from my worst enemy.”
A cheerful silence took place. Both of them realised how absurd their situation was; they should, in no way shape or form, be chatting together like this. But neither of them wanted to end this sweet dream just yet, allowing themselves five more minutes before returning to reality.
“You know… It's hard for me to tell you that, but you're a great companion for a cigarette break… not just for the free cigarette. If I catch you sticking to a trash can again, I'll return the favour maybe… just maybe.”
The villain gives a small tap on the shoulder of the hero, quickly given back with an elbow on the ribs.
“As surprising as it may seem, I have to admit that you're actually kinda nice to be around when you're not making everyone's life difficult. Just a little nice. Maybe in another world, where you’re not a villain and I'm not a hero, we could have been friends.”
A question burned both of their lips: Can we still be friends? But neither of them has the courage to asked for it. Neither of them was ready for that.
“Yeah… in another word… what will be? A baker and a clockmaker? What a strange world that would be.”
Poultryman raised an eyebrow. “Why these jobs in particular?”
“Dunno, vibe maybe?”
“You’re a weirdo”
A pensive silence came back between the two. Thinking of an imaginary world belonging to another story than the one they wrote.
“Grian”
“hum? What grain?”
“Not grain dumbass, Grian. That my name.”
The villain almost lost his footing, didn't expect that at all.
“Aren't you afraid I'll use your name to bring you down?”
“I… I just want someone to hear it. And, there are hundreds of Grian just in this city, good luck finding the right one. And I know you’re not the type of villain that likes to do stupid tricks like that.”
“Well, nice to meet you, Grian, I’m Scar. Don't think I'm giving you my name out of kindness because you gave me yours. I just don’t like… to be in debt with someone, especially a hero. Yeah… it’s just that. If you give something to me, I’m in debt.That all!”
The villain extended his hand, and the hero responded with a firm handshake. It was awkward to do that with someone you’ve known for years, but they had never really taken the time to talk to each other before.
“Nice to meet you, Scar.”
“You know, that’s a nasty wound you have on your forehead. I can see the blood from the outside of your mask. You should treat it before it gets infected. I would not like it if that killed you before I did it myself.”
Grian laughed as he stood up, acting cocky before giving a friendly slap in the villain’s side. He barely reacted, seeming only even more amused.
“Not if I kill you first, villain.”
Scar quickly followed, putting the finder on the wound, the hero making a small noise in reaction
“As if you can do it, I'm invisible, hero. I'll believe it when I see it!” A midnight wind interrupted him “It’s getting cold… I’d better get going before my goons mess things up at the HQ…” Scar looked away, his lip burning with hesitation, but he ultimately decided to wave goodbye. “Have a good night, Grian. Hope not to meet you again soon.”
Grian watched as Scar faded further and further from view, leaving only a sweet silence behind. A smile slowly formed on Grian's face, lighting up his face under the mask.
“Good night Scar. Hope not to meet you again soon, either.”