justiceisanoncorrosivemetal:

dark-blue-mondays:

Harrison’s face instantly softened and he reached out, resting a hand on Syx’s back.  The blue villain sounded so small and…. hurt.  Slowly his irritation began to dissipate. It was easy to forget that Syx was still new in town, and clearly not taking the transition well.  But this is what he’d wanted Wayne to see.  Not the villain with the flowing cape and faux confidence.  The sweet, caring, complex man underneath.  The villain Megamind was for the game, and while the game could be fun, this was the man he trusted.  

“It wasn’t that no one else cared,” he replied, rubbing Syx’s back gently.  "Just that the ways they cared were different.”   He looks to Wayne for some kind of back up here.  Because when it comes to this kind of heroes and villains psychology, he is still very much flying blind.  

[As pathetic as Syx is acting, it doesn’t garner any sympathy from Wayne. Quite the opposite, in fact. Setting down he plate with a click, he crosses his arms and leans against the counter, no longer sure that he can eat his pancakes without biting off a few fork tines.]

[With Harrison seeking his opinion on the matter, he slaps a neutral mask on. It doesn’t cover up his irritated body language or his mood through their bond, but it is an attempt.] My Megamind helps keep the Doom Syndicate in check, as well as some of the other criminal activity around the city, but there wasn’t much to ‘fix’ with me around. Perhaps that’s how things were with Girly.

“Wasn’t much… wasn’t-” Syx sputtered, taken aback. His mouth fell open before his face slowly twisted into rage. His brows lowering dangerously as he scowled. Of course. He was talking to a Scott. Two Scotts he corrected, adding the wealthy businessman beside him. His ire was firmly focused on Wayne, however.

“Oh right of course. I was mistaken. The world is perfectly rosy because Metro Mahn is here to punch Evil in the face and save the day. With his big flashy grin and cheesy lines as he rescues kittens and saves old ladies and keeps the status quo. Because the rich white handsome male with a classical hero physic is no threat to current societal conventions. And after all, if all the people who matter are happy then everything must be fucking PERFECT!” Syx threw his arms out as he burst up from the table, a ball of energy as his heart raced.

“Why should anyone care about systemic racism! Who gives a shit about horrific living conditions for the poor! Why bother trying to overhaul the criminal justice system! None of those people fucking MATTER! They don’t have a voice,” Syx clasped his hand to his chest with a mock angelic face, “Oh but I forget, you give to charity and you volunteer. So you must care,” he batted his eyelashes full of mocking serenity. 

His face falling into another snarl he continued his rant, “I’m so mistaken! Too worked up! Making a big deal over nothing! I should just stop heating warehouses in winter to keep the homeless from freezing to death because that doesn’t need fixing. Who cares about protecting low-income properties from gang violence? Why bother to employ reformed ex-cons? No need to worry about famine in the middle of Metrocity! We’re civilized!”

“Do you know why I destroy buildings Metro Man?” Syx jabbed a finger at the hero, “Because that if the only way to stop it from being a useless waste of space! Because otherwise, it would just sit there forever and if some rich asshole bought it they’d make a mother fucking condo with a Starbucks! But when I destroy it, it goes to a non-profit. Paid for by the Super Villain Recovery Fund. Why should anyone bother to check what sort of building they are making? If it’s a hotel or a food pantry? Jobs are created and the city gets better. It gets things it needs. Like low-income housing and groceries that people can afford. Not fucking gentrification. And I can tell you right fucking NOW that in my universe it wasn’t the god damn SCOTTS that paid in the most to that fucking charity!”

Shaking with adrenaline, Syx spun on his heel, heading toward the balcony, “I need a fucking cigarette,” he grumbled, though he didn’t have one, he wished he did.