006. The backup plan is trash(Literally)
The rooftop was quiet for exactly four seconds. Then the UI coughed. Not gently. Not politely. It hiccuped like it just swallowed a cursed USB stick.
-----------------------------------------------
⚠️ SYSTEM ERROR: PLOTLINE DERAILED
REBOOTING STRUCTURAL INTEGRITY
🧠 Suggested Fixes:
A. Deliver Emotional Monologue
B. Discover New Life Purpose
C. Run Like Hell™ (Recommended)
-----------------------------------------------
I blinked.
"Great," I muttered. "The plot's on fire again."
Next to me, Ezra was tapping his villain-issued comm-band like it owed him rent. The screen flickered red, then purple, then just screamed in Comic Sans.
"You just triggered a Class-3 genre violation," he said flatly.
Behind us, the sky glitched. Not poetic-glitched. Not "dreamlike." More like the narrative tripped over its own shoelaces and faceplanted into the fourth wall.
Magical drones zipped overhead, blinking red and blasting sterile jazz like it was the world's most passive-aggressive emergency.
Hana tilted her head like a dog hearing dubstep for the first time. "Ooh, Class-3! Isn't that the one right before they reset the timeline?"
"I hope so," I muttered. "Maybe I'll come back as a cactus. No mouth. No dialogue."
Another UI alert slapped into my eyes like a sticker from a bad life coach.
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🚨 ARC REPAIR IN PROGRESS
You are dangerously off-trajectory.
Select a corrective action:
A. Initiate Heroic Monologue™
B. Develop Complex Personal Goal™
C. Throw Yourself into Emergency Villain Escape Route™
I turned to Ezra. "Please tell me that's not a literal trash chute."
He was already ripping the cover off a vent.
"It's an unofficial villain extraction tunnel," he said.
A wave of hot air whooshed up from the opening. It smelled like burnt cardboard, failed plot arcs, and moral ambiguity.
"So yes," I said. "It's a trash chute."
Ezra nodded. "Look. Either we jump, or the System rerolls you into a tragic YA protagonist. You'll have fingerless gloves and exactly one tearful motivational speech per chapter."
I dove without hesitation.
Hana squealed "Wheee!" and cannonballed after me. Ezra sighed, whispered something about dignity being a myth, and followed.
The hatch slammed shut. The world tilted. And then we fell.
---
We hit the bottom like bad fanfiction. Not together. Not with style. Just three separate thuds, some swearing, and one squishy slap that we all agreed not to talk about.
I groaned. Everything hurt in new and exciting ways.
The floor was cold and wet and probably illegal. The walls were metal. The lights blinked like they had commitment issues.
The air smelled like old secrets, moldy betrayal, and failed evil plans. Not in a fun way. In a "this building has trauma" kind of way.
Ezra peeled himself off a broken crate. "Welcome to the backup."
---
⚠️ Location Detected:
Abandoned Villain Facility v1.2 (Decommissioned)
Genre Consistency: 18%
Mood: Sad Airbnb with evil wallpaper
---
I sat up. The hallway stretched out ahead—gray walls, broken lights, danger-colored stains. A creepy gargoyle stared at us from above a door. Someone had spray-painted "No Hope Past This Point" underneath it.
At least they were honest.
Ezra led the way.
---
The place looked like someone tried to build a villain lair using bad credit and worse taste.
Dust everywhere. Broken weapons on the floor. Monitors flashing random garbage like they were trying to gaslight us. One showed a villain holding a puppy hostage. Another showed someone named Mistress Conundrum frowning at a crossword puzzle.
A half-dead banner hung from the ceiling in Comic Sans:
"Be the Narrative Obstacle They Deserve."
One of the letters had fallen off. The O. Somehow that made it sadder. Ezra found the main breaker and slammed it with his fist. The lights flickered to life.
They finally settled on "emotional dungeon with trust issues."
"Cozy," I said.
We stepped in. Carefully. Like the walls were still judging. In the corner, a coffee machine sputtered. The logo lit up with glowing evil symbols.
Then it spoke.
"Mortal. You have entered a place forbidden to the sun. May your purpose be cruel. And your coffee strong."
I kicked it. It made a sad whimper and shut down.
Ezra didn't even blink. "Some of the appliances are... dramatic."
"Some?"
He ignored me. Typical.
---
The next room had a label on the wall:
"Villain Wellness Lounge – Because Even Chaos Needs Coffee."
Ezra kicked the door open like this was normal.
Inside: pure disappointment.
The room looked like a gym locker room and a villain lair had a bad breakup and never cleaned up after.
Broken vending machines lined the walls like dead soldiers from the Snack War. One of them was still trying to dispense a protein bar from 2013. It buzzed, gave up, and made a sound like depression trying to reboot.
"Fuel Your Arc! Every Bite One Step Closer to Redemption™"
Someone had drawn devil horns on him in permanent marker. Probably Ezra. He sat on the counter, arms crossed with a serious face.
"The System used to let people make their own choices," he said. "Back then, heroes earned it. Villains had reasons. Now? It's all fake."
He waved around. "Factory-made trauma. Viral heroes. Clean merch deals."
"People don't save the world anymore," Ezra said. "They follow scripts."
I leaned on a fridge, It buzzed at me like it was judging my life.
Hana sat on the floor, braiding a power cable like it was a craft project.
"Cool," I muttered. "So I'm not a glitch. I'm a beta test."
---
Uploading Hero Type:
Grumpy Loner With a Secret Heart of Gold™
Time left: 13 minutes
Please avoid sarcasm during calibration.
---
I stared at the message.
"I want a refund on this storyline."
---
ERROR: Uninstall Option Locked
Please suffer meaningfully until your redemption arc begins.
---
Ezra coughed out a laugh. "They always pick the brooding type. Safe. Shippable. Easy fan art."
"I used to be a truck," I said flatly. "I had no arms. It was peace."
Hana looked up. "You still have no arms. Emotionally."
[That's canon now.]
---
The silence fell like a power outage. Somewhere, the vending machine groaned and spat out a single Justice Snackz bar. We didn't touch it.
I rubbed my face. "I need a reboot. Or a crowbar to the brain."
That's when I noticed Hana had gone quiet.
Too quiet.
Which, coming from her, was basically a crime.
She was huddled in the corner, giggling at her phone like she just discovered cursed treasure. I narrowed my eyes. "What are you doing?"
"Nothing," she said, way too fast.
I walked over. She tilted the phone toward me. And just like that—I lost the will to live. Again.
The title flashed in neon pink over a flaming heart banner:
[💀 Villain Daddy Leo 💀
Brooding Menace Appreciation Hub]
Pinned to the top:
A screenshot of me mid-jump into a trash chute.
Someone had drawn a crown on my head. Added sparkles. Floating hearts.
Caption:
"My trash king 💘🗑️✨"
I scrolled.
It got worse.
"He looks like he's given up and I'd let him ruin my life."
"That's the face of a man who's allergic to happiness. I love him."
"His pain gives me serotonin."
---
🎉 Passive Fame Unlocked!
You are now a Tier-1 Internet Antihero.
New Perk: Brooding Gains Followers™
+Charisma when standing near flickering lights or holding hot drinks.
---
I stared at the screen like it owed me money.
"This is libel."
Ezra didn't even look up. "Check for merch. If there's merch, you're doomed."
Hana was already scrolling. "Yup. There's plushies. Three AU comics. One where you hold a flaming sword and whisper, 'I don't need saving.'"
"I don't have a sword."
"You will," she said. "The fans believe in you."
I was about to argue. But the lights flickered before i could.
Once.
Then again.
Then everything glitched—like the building had a hiccup.
In the corner, a dead terminal sparked back to life. Static buzzed. Dust rose.
Then red text scrolled across the screen, all glitchy and wrong:
---
TRK-KN // STATUS: CORRUPTED
Narrative Contagion Risk: HIGH
Containment Pending
Viewer Discretion Advised
---
My stomach dropped like a bad rating.
"Tell me that stands for 'Totally Regular Kool-Knight' or something," I muttered.
Behind me, Hana's sketchbook glowed.
She hadn't noticed. Too busy adding shading to her newest drawing—me, of course. Glowing eyes. Cape made of tire treads. Jawline of doom.
The drawing blinked, I blinked back.
Something scraped the floor in the dark. Not a loud sound , but a deliberate one.
Like a footstep made by something that had just figured out how walking works.
---
⚠️ Unstable Archetype Detected.
Source: Unknown
Alignment: Narrative Violation in Progress
---
I didn't move. I didn't even blink. and my breathing has stopped for a moment.
"If that's a flashback sequence loading," I said, "I'm climbing back up the trash chute."
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END OF CHAPTER 6
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