6/06/2020

Hey guys! This is another short story I've had to write for uni. It was my first attempt at writing a truly villainous character, and is a bit reminiscent of a cartoon villain story. So have a look, tell me what you think.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"The evil mastermind known as Methodic Mayhem struck again this afternoon, leaving the South City Point police department in shambles. What exactly he took is still unknown. What we do know is that he has left five dead bodies in his wake. Everyone is confused as to what his motive is this time."

"Booorrrringgg!" I exclaimed with a moan, shutting of the T.V with a flick of a remote, "I was there for it. So were you though, so you probably don't want to be watching all this crap either."

The gun in my left hand pointed loosely toward the tied-up police officer strapped down on a four-wheeled office chair. He flinched, eyes widening as he faced down the barrel of the silver Glock that I favoured. He was a young one, maybe sixteen or seventeen; probably the kid of some higher up in the police force, with sweat strewn blond hair, an impressive build, and boyish blue eyes.

"Oh relax!" I laughed, waving the handgun carelessly, "It's not like I'd shoot you! Not yet. I mean, if you are annoying I might. I don't really need you to be alive."

The boy whimpered against his gag, tears trickling down the corner of his eyes. I rolled my eyes, spinning my chair around to face the multi-monitor setup I had accumulated on the other side of the room. Twelve big computer screens faced me, all with the potential for 4k resolution and the required power of a small school. Each screen was wired to a camera watching a room within the abandoned building I had made my home.

The building resided in the middle of an abandoned section of South Point city. The only bothersome company was the occasional beggar seeking refuge, or the overly curious teen group thinking it was a good idea to trample through half-collapsed structures full of asbestos. I didn't exactly blame them. I came here a lot as a kid as well. The wheezy pain that came from every breath was a reminder of those days.

The cameras showed long halls of brittle walls and fractured doorways. The floors were drowned in layers of dust, the roof close to caving in. The stairs leading to each level were full off rotten wooden planks with numerous holes made from reckless footsteps. Broken beams of light illuminated the polluted air, particles of snow-like dirt shining in the sun. The resolution on the screens really made everything stand out.

"How long do you reckon it will take for them to get here?" I asked, turning toward the tired-up officer with a raised eyebrow, "Surely they would have figured out my hints by now."

"Mmrr," he grunted back, having grown tired of struggling to get free.

I rolled my eyes, turning to look back at one of the screened monitors as a movement caught my eye. The door holding the entrance was kicked inward. The entire flimsy frame shattered into splinters. In stepped the man I was waiting for. Brayden Jones. 'South City's finest'. He was a police officer who had gained the reputation of a local hero. Smart, brave, obnoxiously kind, and the body an Olympic athlete would be jealous of. The picture of perfection. He wore the classical blue and black outfit with the 'bulletproof' jacket and the iconic German shepherd insignia on his pocket sleeve. A brown mop of hair was brushed neatly back on his head, something that never seemed to be ruffled out of shape no matter how hard I tried.

"Mayhem!" he called out as he held up his handgun, "I know you are in here."

I sat back on my office chair with a slight smirk. Jones was a fun guy. He figured things out quickly and seemed to be always one step ahead of most people. The normal tricks and trips just didn't work with him. He forced me to get creative, which was why this setting was such a useful one.

I wheeled forward my chair so that I was near the desk holding the screens. A microphone sat on a small stand. I pressed a button on the stand and spoke through it.

"Jonesy! You made it. A bit slow this time don't you think."

I knew to him my voice would be echoing through the entire building, making it difficult to tell where exactly I was. The speaker system had been a pain the arse to set up. Stringing wires through half rotting wooden walls was never going to be easy.

"Dane better be still alive, Mayhem," growled the self-made hero.

"Dane?" I looked at the boy tired up to the chair, "Seems that way. Might change though."

"If you hurt that boy..."

"Oh Jonesy, I think you better be worrying more about what is around you, or you might get hurt."

I hit a button the keyboard, activating a program I liked to call 'The Shattering'. It suited the building I had set it up for, and it just seemed like an awesome name as every step was designed to break something. Jones had reacted, of course, hitting a small device in his belt I had become quite familiar with. A small, near-invisible, barrier of energy shrouded him. It was designed to defend against explosions, gunshots, and other such simple tools. Standard police issue.

The walls around Jones exploded, sending out clouds of fine asbestos all along the hallway. Now it really looked like snow, the white powder making it difficult for even the computer screen to pick up the man shrouded in it. I hit another button, changing it to infrared.

"Powder? Really Mayhem. You seem to be losing your edge," Jones spoke as he walked through the clouds harmlessly, the energy field protecting him from breathing the substance in.

"You know, you have to use something from your surroundings," I chuckled gleefully.

As Jones walked he placed his feet carefully, aware that any part of the floor could potentially cave in, and he couldn't see anything through the clouds of asbestos. I knew from personal experience that the floor of this building was a death trap to some. Jones would make it through fine though, even blind.

Even so, it brought me a spark of joy when he stepped on a rotten piece of floorboard and nearly fell through. It brought back memories of the old times, when my 'friends' and I used to explore this place, memorising every aspect of each building. I had always gone first, just to make sure that I knew exactly where all the pitfalls were, before coming back to show the others. Occasionally I had someone step in just the wrong place so that their leg fell through, just for some laughs of course. I always lied afterward that they hadn't stepped where I told them to. They never caught on, which made it even more hilarious.

I don't know why, but seeing others stumble in their walk always brought joy to me. Seeing them rise to the top of their respective area, become the best of the best, then fall all so suddenly. Kinda like Andrew, who, besides me, was the best at navigating through these buildings, never slipping up, never falling short like the others. At least not until I convinced him to climb a dangerous route on the outside, around what had once been window ledges. There he had stepped on a piece of flimsy plywood and fallen. Fallen the thirty metres down from the building. It had taken a while to find his body afterward. Unfortunately, no one ever wanted to come back again after that.

"What is your plan Mayhem?" Jones asked as he began to ascend a set of stairs, the floorboards cracking and creaking under every step.

"Oh... I don't know," I replied with a snicker, "Just kinda... making it up as I go along, you know."

The second trap sprung as he reached the fifth step. I had planted several small detonators in the roof above him. They each went off simultaneously, sending more clouds of asbestos into the air. This time the floor above him caved in, squealing out in pain. It wouldn't be enough to kill the man, but it would certainly cause some worry. Jones had thrown up his arms to brace as splinters and rotting planks bounced off his shield. He stumbled carelessly, stepping back into a hole he had dodged by before.

With a shouted curse he fell back, his leg going right through it. If it wasn't for the shield he would have cracked his head against another stair and likely shredded his leg with splinters. It took him a couple moments to recover, but as he did he was met with my laughing over the speakers.

"Be careful Jonesy. You don't know where the next surprise could come from."

With a huff the man pulled himself to his feet, glaring up at the roof, before carefully making his way upwards once more. He had his gun up, his eyes narrowed in frustration. I could almost see the perspiration dripping from his forehead. Each footstep was light and silent, as though that would help him against the other traps I had set up.

I looked back at Dane, who was staring hopefully at the monitors Jones made his way onto the second floor. His hopeful gaze, his desperate pupils, it created a great feeling of satisfaction. He was so hopeful, so full of optimism. The idea behind it made me laugh as I turned to watch Jones make his way through the corridors of the second floor of the building.

It was basic training to point his gun and head into every room he passed by, just to make sure he wasn't missing anything. There really wasn't much to miss. Half the floor had nearly rotted away, and there were several gaping wholes that just asked to be jumped down. Jones skirted the edge of each of them, his gun trained forward and his eyes darting from side to side.

The next trap he triggered was a piece of loose floorboard designed to fall inward, along with a good portion of the floor, once stepped on. It was placed in the perfect area, about two-thirds of the way to the next staircase, right where someone had grown comfortable enough that they weren't as careful, and not close enough to the staircase to suspect a last-second trap. But Jones was quick, and as soon as the floor caved in he jumped backward, narrowly avoiding the drop to the bottom floor.

"Oooh! That was a close one," I cackled through the voice system.

"Dammit Mayhem. I'm tired of your games," he yelled at me, "What do you get out of this?"

I thought for a moment, trying to find one of my wittier responses. In truth, the only reason I really did any of this is that it was fun. To see others struggle, throw themselves against a brick wall until they break, it was the only thing that brought me real enjoyment. I had tried many other things of course. Video games had always been slightly interesting but had never been real enough. Sport was exhilarating but just didn't itch the scratch the right way. Puzzle games had always been good, but their lack of consequences made it so mundane.

I had even been a police officer at some point myself, many years ago now. That had been fun. Watching criminals struggle and swear and cry was just as rewarding as any innocent. I dare say I had been a good officer as well. An analytical mindset was useful with detective work. I was so good that they had ignored some of the more questionable acts I attempted, like letting a criminal run and right before he escaped, shooting him in the leg. Their cry of disbelief and shock of nearly escaping, but failing nonetheless, always gave me an odd tingle of satisfaction.

It wasn't until my antics were caught on camera that the head office finally took notice. I didn't really understand. They were criminals! Who cared what happened to them? So, of course, they had to fire me, and after that, well, I didn't know what to do. I had always been told 'do what you enjoy' and 'follow your dreams, no matter what everyone else thinks'. Everyone is told that. I had followed that. But just because my enjoyment was at the expense of others... I had been the one at fault? It was hypocritical. Didn't really matter anymore though. I was the one having the last laugh.

I put my mouth against the mouthpiece, "'Cause I enjoy seeing your face contort like that Jonesy. Gives you a rather bashful look."

"Damn you Mayhem," the officer gritted his teeth as he made his way around the collapsed floor, making sure to step carefully as he did.

Jones slowly made his way up the remaining five floors. It was slow going for him. Every so often a part of the floor would collapse, or an explosion showered him in rotten planks. I even had a trap drop a bag of flour on him at one point. That had angered him all the more, but he still continued forward, desperate to save the boy that I still had in my possession.

"He really is quite amazing, isn't he?" I told Dane.

Dane only grunted in response. Jones had made it passed my final trap and was now standing at the metal door that lead into my headquarters. He had armed a lock popper, a small bomb designed to blow out locks, on the door handle. The small pop behind me cause me to turn around to view the man walking through to great me. His gun instantly trained on my smiling face, his brow furled in anger.

"Put your hands up Mayhem. You are not escaping this time," he growled at me.

I complied with a sly grin, "So serious Jonesy. This should be a happy time for you. You finally caught the villainous 'Methodic Mayhem'."

"I'll be happy when you are locked away forever," Jones had begun to walk over to Dane, taking careful measured steps, despite the floor here being far more stable, "Got on the floor, and keep your hands visible."

"Not sure you want me to do that Jonesy," I replied, maliciousness in my eyes.

"You will do what I damn well tell you," he replied cynically, taking a pair of cuffs from his belt and throwing them toward me, "Make sure to put those on as well."

I shrugged, "Whatever you say."

I got up from my seat, but as my weight left the seat there was a click. Dane's eyes widened and Jones froze. The entire building shook, causing the unsuspecting officer to stumble, nearly falling. I smirked, rushing toward Jones, shoving him off his feet, before making my way to the door. But Jones was quick to react, a gunshot hitting the beam of the door right above my head. I stopped.

"Stop where you are!" he cried as the building began to creak and crumble, the final trap having been let off.

"What are you going to do Jonesy? You gonna shoot me?" I asked with a smirk.

The building once again lurched, but both of us retained our balance.

"You can't get me and rescue your poor co-worker at the same time Jonesy," I laughed at him.

He was frozen, so I made the decision for him. I turned and ran through the doorway, racing toward the window. With a yelling whoop, I leaped out, activating a set of jets on my boots and flinging myself into the air. The extra jump the boots gave me allowed me to land in the adjacent window on the opposite building, breaking through the window.

I watched as the building I had traveled through collapsed and fell. The explosives I had set up, along with all the small traps, had blown away every supporting beam within the building, leaving the entirety of it to collapse under its own weight. I had no doubt Jonesy would make it out alive. He always managed to find some way. Dane on the other hand, I wasn't so confident. I just laughed, turned around, and walking down the stairs.

"Till next time Jonesy. Till next time."