I crouched lower, my steps slow and on alert. My pulse quickened at every creak and moving shadow. Then I stopped dead. Heartbeats pounded in my ears.

But they weren't mine.

Roger with his head too tangled in his complaints again, bumped into me and made a big, "Oomph!"

I clamped my hand over his mouth and peeked into the next room. The vault already cracked open, there stood the handsome six feet tall, Villain Academy football team, dressed in their varsity jackets holding their stupid baseball bats and lame boy-next-door weapons. The one who was supposed to have his eye on the door was looking back at the rest of his friends hovering the glass case.

Although Roger complained earlier, that spark of interest in his brown eyes made me smile. He had been waiting for this specific murder all year; the slaughter of his bullies; the academy's senior football team.

And to think—he wanted to pass up on an opportunity to kill them with a valid reason.

High-strung, the balls of Roger's feet kept bouncing and his eyes of Asian descent lit up. "So are we going to go all ninja and hide in the vents or are going to stalk in the mysterious shadows and discreetly kill one by one? Or are we going to slowly—"

I walked straight through the door with a smile on my lips and said, "Hey, isn't this a room full of dicks?"

"Oooor we could do that," Roger said to no one in particular.

Their heads jerked up in alarm and Captain was the first one to speak. "Isn't it Villain Academy's mystery girl?" he laughed, but the end of his voice cracked in fright. His grip tightened around the stolen jewel. "So where have you been Vhalerie? Wait till the Headmistress hears this, you lurking around the Forgotten City with Roger. Or did you come for the Medallion?" He swung the prized necklace, it swinging by his face.

The corner of my lip quirked up. Those jerseys and layers of cologne did nothing to hide the stench of fear. It came strong off their trembling, warm bodies, and I could hear my beast groaning.

"It's cute how you think I'm just here for the diamond."

Their eyes widened like saucers, the purpose for my arrival finally sinking in their minds. Instantly, weapons were removed from their belts, chains and the odd axe and of course the baseball bat. Gotta love the 'rebel in town' look.

The quarterback trying his best to remain tough, spat out a lame threat meant for intimidation, "You should never mess with the football team," he said, the end of the baseball bat resting in his palm.

I stuck out a pitiful bottom lip. "And your father should've pulled out."

The first football player delivered an open mouthed war cry and charged, his axe whistling past my ear as I bent back, returning up with two hands on his jaw and with a twist—crack—the jaw snapped and his body fell limp.

My hand disappeared behind my back, pulling out the silver sword. "Trust me fellas, this'll be the last game you ever play."

Let me break down Villain Academy for you since I didn't get a chance at the beginning—those darn flesh flights always start at the wrong times.

Villain Academy educated selected teens to become world renowned villains and trained them within this closed off city until they graduated from senior year.

So while you were doing stupid calculus, I was learning twenty different methods to torture a man without killing him—(way better than that 50 Shades shit). Clearly, we both know whose school was better.

While you were gawking at your crush I was taught a bajillion fucking languages where I sounded mad half the time.

Inside Villain Academy was like an ultimate combo of Mean Girls, Glee and Degrassi meets American Horror story; it was similar to any normal, civilized high school packed with pretty bitches, jocks, dorks—except everyone killed for a living; some of supernatural descent or half beast; cannibals if you will.

The languages and physics were taught in class, however the physical work of a villain was self-taught.

Once a week for three days straight, all senior students were kicked out of the school and were graded by how much corruption we made within the Forbidden City.

Bombed a neighbourhood? Maybe a D+.

Robbed a bank? Eh, how 'bout a B-.

Slaughtered a group of politicians and got the prized possession; the Medallion? Keep the straight A's coming.

To get an A+? Pull an unexpected stunt that surprised the teachers watching through the cameras; you'd have to do something that has never been done.

If I still attended Villain Academy, I'd put my brilliant logic to good use.

See, Villains killed innocent civilians. Villains killed crazy civilians.

But a villain has never killed a villain within the Forbidden City—until now. I was going to score myself an A+ by killing my own kind. How rude of me.

Either way, I just wanted the teachers to see how ruthless I could be and what happened when you lie to me.

At Villain Academy, everything was about how villainous you were; how far would you push your moral boundaries?

Thunder rumbled outside, drumming against the grey clouds spinning above our heads.

From loser in my freshmeat years at Villain Academy to the mysterious lone wolf in senior year, I had an advantage unlike all other villains in the academy.

My mystery was the element of surprise—I was known to not be a killer: They said I had clean hands.

But little did they know, I always washed them in blood.

Of course—junior prom was an exception. Hey, everyone does weird shit when intoxicated with alcohol.

I didn't start showing off my hidden backbone until late junior year, and especially going into the summer of senior year.

One boy swung his axe and I dropped low, turning to run up the wall and leap up, hand grabbing onto his face and smashing his skull into the ground, splinters of bone shattering across white tiles. With one knee bent to the ground and hand to his broken skull, I threw my face up and grinned. "Isn't this what you boys call a touchdown?"

"You're psychotic!" one of the linebackers shrieked, the baseball bat trembling in his hands.

"I know." I winked. "I just drive the boys crazy."

My sword and I flowed in one motion, body dipping and curving around wood and steel. Movements fluid. Translucent. Following after every attack, a stream of blades and glass running through limbs and throats.

Their blood my paint. The floor my canvas. Hand and silver my brush. A villain; an artist.

I leaped up, lightning cracking, and drove my sword into his head, sliding down his shoulders as blood squirted across my face, his flesh dividing in half to the end of his balls.

A baseball bat whacked my head and I felt the wood break in half, splitting past my ears and heard the attacker's sharp intake of breath behind me. I turned and he dropped the broken bat, stumbling back.

"W-What are you?" he screamed.

"Clearly not a shitty batter," I said and swung my sword over my head. It drove it into his lower body, blade swiping across and his intestines fell out, hitting the ground in a floppy twist.

Outside the skies cheered, thunder rolling on the clouds in laughter, the lightning dancing in the fog.

But ever since my freshmeat year at Villain Academy, the school has gotten crueler and darker. Freshmeat hardly made it out alive (vampire cheerleaders were thirsty bitches).

I grabbed the wrist of a dead football player and checked his watch. "Hells Bells, we've been gone for ten hours?!"

We had to get back now.

"C'mon, Vhalerie. Getting a little rusty are we?" I grunted to myself.

What was left of the football team had sharpened their claws now, most of them half wolf and soon, they darted from all directions in furry blurs.

I dodged to the right, axe barely kissing my skin and shoved my two fingers into his eyes. I tore out his eye sockets with a sharp tug. "Like ripping off a band aid," I chirped.

A scream burst out of him and I shoved my hand into his mouth, and watched his eyes bulge as my fingers dug past his throat and wrapped over one lung.

"Oh shit," a linebacker commented.

I yanked and pulled his lung out of his mouth, the dripping organ very slim in my hands. I tossed it to my side with a shrug.

A blur zipped from my left and I clipped my heel to his forehead. Running towards another, I kicked one foot off the wall and flew up, grabbing a boy between my thighs and snapping his neck with them before swiftly landing on two feet.

Heels met necks, sword tearing into flesh, adrenaline raging through my body. The Gods screamed in joy, thunder rolling like the laughter in their bellies.

The heightening blood thirst forced my teeth to sharpen and I pounced across the floor, hacking on warm neck and stomach, blood spilling across my white shirt. Spitting mouthful of throat and slurping on bile. Tearing. Biting. Ripping. Savaging until there was nothing but empty, cracked bones and twitching meat. The storm cried out in triumph, thunder cackling and white lightning cutting the sky in half.

This only left me, Captain, Roger and his sandwich.

The Captain stumbled into the glass case, trying to grab on to support his weak knees. I slowly walked towards him, licking the blood off my fingers. "As the quarterback, you'd think you'd have a good arm," I said, and picked his flimsy muscle with my index finger and thumb. I wiggled the limp flesh and laughed. "Guess you won't be playing anymore games."

"You're fucking sick," he said.

"You stuffed me in a locker all of freshmeat year," I responded. "Never underestimate the quiet girl of the school, Captain." A snort left my nose. "And you thought you had the guts to be a true villain."

Frantic, he shoved the diamond necklace in his mouth and swallowed it with a greasy smile. "Can't get it now, huh?"

I grinned along with him. "You really think I can't get to the necklace because you digested it? I can probably get into your stomach faster than your hand can get into your pants."

The heel of my boot drove into his shoulder and he sprawled over the floor, heading hitting against the tiles. I grabbed the Captain's head, his werewolf fangs gleaming in the light and ripped out his mouth, and used those fangs to scrap at his flesh. The boy screamed, withering on the floor as his body jerked. The sharp canine teeth cut his stomach open and bile spilled over the carpet and my lap.

I shoved my hand in the open stomach, swooshing around the toxic acid and fingers swirling around chunks of his dinner.

Suddenly they felt up a hard piece and I then pulled out the necklace, acid stuck between the creases of the jewel. I put it in my mouth and sucked off the acidic juices, my lips making a pop sound as it cleanly came out of my mouth.

Roger peeked over my shoulder and I immediately warned, "Don't you dare touch that sandwich in his stomach."

"How come you get to put the necklace that was just in his stomach into your mouth but I can't eat his sandwich?" he said.

Captain kept whimpering, drowning himself pleas for mercy. "You football boys never stop talking," I said with a disappointed tongue cluck, and stabbed the sword between his eyes.

"I will never look at ketchup the same way again," Roger said.

I put my hands up. "What? I just did him a favour! The kid had a massive pimple right there."

"Between his eyes?"

"Puberty does terrible things," I said.

Putting my sword back in its strap, I slowly stood up, my blood cooling. My heavy breath filled the air, adding onto the room's stench of rich blood and sweat—and a shit ton of cologne.

"Can we hurry up," Roger muffled and I turned around to see him stuffing the sandwich in his mouth. "Last time we were lucky and I don't want to take chances again." The previous week, we slipped through the gates two minutes before they closed and I laughed a little.

"Good times." Clipping the necklace around my neck, my senses spiked up and I saw a shadow move. "Roger, look out!"

A villain had a butcher knife and Roger screamed and hit her over the head with the sandwich. I scooped up a piece of glass and threw it like a dart, nailing her in the neck.

"Let's blow this sandwich stand!" Roger shrieked.

The dead villain took two steps back and before collapsing, we were already gone and running onto the narrow streets. Thunder pounded the skies in warning.

+++

A/N:  

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