Prompt: Describe the interaction between a retired supervillain and the new supervillain in town.
The cash spills out of the ATM as I adjust my hood. I smile down at my daughter, Skye, as she carefully hands me my wallet.
“Thank you, love,” I murmur, sliding the bills in. “Are you excited for the big move?”
“Yes,” she beams. “I can’t wait to see our new house!”
It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to walk freely around the city. Life as a “supervillain” doesn’t give me a lot of freedom to be myself, at least not in public. But all that’s changed. I’m retired, finally, and now I can give my daughter the life she deserves. And the father she deserves. We leave in the morning, for a city far away from here, where no one will be able to trace me back to my villainous alter-ego.
I’m just finishing up when I notice a group of people enter the bank. There’s three of them, two girls and a guy, holding one of the girls on his arm casually. He whispers something in her ear and she lets out a loud giggle. I narrow my eyes.
Pulling Skye close, I slowly make my way towards the entrance. I don’t want to get involved. I can’t get involved.
I glance over my shoulder as they reach the counter, and I still at the sight of them arguing with the teller. This is not going well. I need to leave. I really need to leave.
One of the girls pulls out a gun and starts waving it around. When the teller still refuses to budge, bang, bang, bang! She fires three rapid warning shots.
Someone on the other side of the bank screams as the glass ceiling shatters, and I pull Skye beneath me to shield her from the shards. She clings tightly to me.
I stifle a groan as the alarms start screaming and flashing bright red lights. This is really not going well. I’m about to just grab Skye and run for it when I notice the burly guy who has just positioned himself outside the door. Great. Now there’s that guy.
When I look back at the desk, the teller is reluctantly throwing wads of cash into a bag.
I could just wait for the police to show up. These amateurs are obviously in no rush. Wait- is she? The girl with the gun is leaning on the desk, scrolling through something on her phone. The gun has been discarded beside her.
At this point, this is just a waste of my time. I have packing to do. Skye could be in danger. Not to mention, if the police show up and start asking witnesses questions, they might recognize me.
“Skye,” I whisper. “Can you wait under the desk over there?”
Skye shakes her head rapidly, clinging tighter to me.
She looks up at me with wide eyes, and I smile.
“It’ll be okay. I’ll take care of it. You’ll be okay.”
After a few moments, something changes in her eyes, and she releases me.
Once she’s out of harm’s way, I pull my recently-perfected ice gun out of my jacket, and take careful aim at the idiots at the desk, grateful that there are no other idiots in the way of my shot.
I pull the trigger. A blast of ice spreads over the guy, then the girl on his arm, then the girl on her phone, crystalizing very satisfyingly over their skin and clothes.
Someone starts screaming again, which attracts the attention of the burly guy out front. He barrels inside, so I spin around and blast him too.
I wait a few seconds, and once I’m satisfied no one else is coming, I grab Skye and usher her outside before the police show up.
“You did it, Dad,” she breathes as we flee the scene. “You’re a hero.”
A small smile appears on my face. “Thanks, Skye.”
“You’re the best, Dad. I love you.”
“Love you too, hon.”