Anger Management

Six pairs of eyes darted back and forth from one another. They all were sitting in fold out chairs that groaned every time someone shifted their weight. The hum of the air conditioner in the window was the only sound, until Paul looked up from his phone.

"Alright, sorry about that. Had some family business to attend to." Paul put his phone in his pocket. "My name is Paul and I would like to welcome you to our first session of Villain Anger Management."

All six villains focused on him, upset that he interrupted their silent game of sizing each other up. First to speak was a small, young woman with woodland creatures crawling through her vibrant green hair. 

"Paul, you sure have some balls," the woman said.

Paul looked down at his crotch, smiled, and returned his focus to her. "Very observant. Good to know you have two eyes."

The other villains laughed, not expecting such a cutting quip from a therapist. The woman stood up and kicked her chair behind her. Squirrels poked their heads out of her hair and growled at Paul. 

"Minions, attack!" she yelled.

Paul sprung off his chair before the squirrels left her hair. Closing the gap inside the circle of villains, he plucked a squirrel from her hair and slammed the little critter's face first into her mouth. The squirrel's tail moved like a windshield wiper, obscuring the woman's vision. She fell back onto the floor, trying to take out the giant hoagie of a squirrel in her mouth. The other villains erupted into laughter, while the other squirrels snickered among each other inside her hair.

The woman pulled the wet squirrel out of her mouth. "Argghh! You are going to pay for that!"

She wasn't talking to Paul, she was talking to the squirrel. Her grip tightened around the squirrel, which struggled in her grip. The squirrel's eyes started to poke out of its skull before Paul intervened. Paul grabbed her by the wrist. With one squeeze, her bones cracked and the squirrel was free from her wrath. His other hand went around her neck, lifting her high in the air.

"What's your name?" Paul said.

She gasped for air and her feet kicked in the air. "Elee."

"Well Elee, consider this your first lesson. Don't blame your minions for your failures," he said, slamming her to the floor.

Elee blinked her eyes a few times, trying to bring the world back in focus. When it did, she saw Paul with her minion perched on his shoulder. This made her blood boil. 

"Traitor!"

"No, Elee. You are the traitor," Paul said. 

"I am not!"

"You hurt your own minion, even willing to kill this furry little guy." Paul scratched the squirrel’s head. "And for what? Failing to accomplish a task?"

"Yes!"

Paul shook his head. "Failure is not the same as betrayal. Would you consider yourself a traitor whenever you failed a task?"

Elee's rage left her body faster than it arrived. Her breathing slowed and fell silent, letting his words take hold in her mind. 

"I don't know who or what hurt you in your past, but you can't go around lashing out on your family," Paul said.

"My family?"

"Yes. Minions are your family. Who else would join forces with you to accomplish your diabolical aspirations? Jaster?"

Elee scoffed at his comment. "Jaster can't be trusted. He's a city slicker."

"Good. You know who you don't trust. But you also need to recognize who you can."

Elee turned her attention to the squirrel who was happily rubbing against Paul's neck. Tears started to well in her eyes, realizing her most trusted companions she was taking for granted. The squirrel jumped off Paul and scurried down to Elee's face, licking the tear from her eye.

She laughed. "Stop it, Kenny."

Paul released his grip from her neck and helped her up. He went over to her chair and folded it up. "I think that is enough for our first session. The takeaway is obvious, but it's worth repeating. These minions you are killing are your family. Treat them with respect, because at the end of the day, they are the only ones you can truly trust."

The villains didn't say anything, but their faces showed his words and actions got to them. They all started to make their way out and Paul began stacking the folding chairs when his phone rang.

"This is Paul," he answered. 

"You seemed to make a good first impression," a voice said.

"So you are watching my sessions? Thought you would be too busy?"

"I'm retired. I have plenty of time."

"Sure you do. If you have so much time, why didn't you stop in?" Paul asked, walking over to the window.

"But then you would have never gotten that breakthrough with squirrel girl."

"Her name's Elee."

"Do you think she is recruitable?"

"Not for you. At least not directly."

"That's never been a problem before."

"Why the sudden interest? Finally looking to settle down?" Paul said with a toothy grin.

"No, but her control over those squirrels could be useful to me."

"Always working. When are you going to stop by to visit? My wife has been dying to try a new recipe. And the kids love seeing their favorite uncle."

"...I will let you know. Keep up the good work, but don't get carried away. Don't want you turning them into heroes."

"Would that really be so bad?"

"Have a good night, Paul."

"You too, Jas."

***

SUPERMAX Prison

Tim and Kennedy walked down the wide hall. Prisoners banged on the clear windows to their cells and offered obscenities while the guards passed by.

“I don’t get it. Why would we let these villains escape if they try? Isn’t it our job to contain them?” Tim asked.

“Our job is to monitor them and escort them to and from their cell. Containing them is the prison’s job.”

“That’s not what our training manual says.”

“It also doesn’t tell you the mortality rate of prison guards who try to contain one of them.”

“Don’t we have the advantage?” Tim said, motioning to his stun baton on his belt.

“And they have superpowers. A little baton doesn’t mean much to them.”

“They don’t all have superpowers.”

“I don’t take that chance. And neither should you. I’m just trying to—” Kennedy said, interrupted by one of the cell doors ahead of them opening.

Stumbling out of the cell was a bald, malnourished man. His orange jumpsuit was loose on him, arm sleeves stretching past his fingers. He had an orange glow in his eye and cackled manically at his successful escape from his cell.

“Stop!” Tim yelled.

The prisoner faced him and dashed back inside his cell. Tim and Kennedy ran over and saw the prisoner sitting on his bed, pretending like nothing happened. Tim entered the cell and went up to the prisoner to search him, while Kennedy stayed at the entrance.

“Turn around,” Tim ordered.

“You’re gonna have to make me,” the prisoner said.

Tim put his hands on him at the precise moment the prisoner grabbed his blanket and wrapped it around Tim’s head. The prisoner tapped him on the top of his covered head with his palm and pushed away from the bed. Tim wrestled with the blanket while he heard Kennedy struggling with the prisoner. Tim got the blanket off of his face and saw Kennedy tossed in the corner of the cell, sprawled on the floor, blood pouring from his mouth. The prisoner was outside the cell, next to the door lock mechanism. Tim ran to the entrance and dove out. The door closed right behind him. Tim scrambled to his feet and tackled the prisoner who did not move from the controls. He banged the prisoner into the cell and tossed him to the floor. Tim drew his stun baton and started to go to work. Beating him all over below the neck. Each blow stronger than the last. The prisoner’s body was like a dead horse after the fourth strike, taking the blow with no reaction. The only sound was the electrical shock it made that was louder than the contact itself. Tim’s attacks slowed until he realized the prisoner wasn’t moving.

Tim went over to the controls and opened the cell. Inside the cell wasn’t Kennedy, but the prisoner, alive and well. The prisoner was holding the top of his head and grinned ear to ear. Tim looked over his shoulder and saw Kennedy on the ground in the hallway.

“What did you do?”

“What did I do?” the prisoner said, holding his hand to his chest. “What did you do?”

“I...you…”

“I was in here. You’re the one that beat your partner to death. Shame he had a weak ticker.”

Tim stared forward at the wall, immobilized by the realization. He killed his partner. Kennedy had a family. How did he make such a mistake? They don’t look remotely the same, yet there the prisoner sat where he thought Kennedy was supposed to be.

The prisoner got up and patted Tim on the back,.“Don’t worry kid. This will only haunt you for the rest of your life. Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve seen this. Won’t be the last either.”

The prisoner walked away, leaving Tim to stare at the wall in front of him. This place was his new job. Now it was going to be his new home. Tim couldn’t take that thought. More guards arrived at the scene, but it was too late. The prisoner was gone and Tim was hanging by a bed sheet from the ceiling pipe. He was just another number in the prison guard death toll. Number 2368. Cause of death: Suicide assisted by villain inflicted psychosis. It was a tragedy that could have been prevented. All he had to do was not be a hero.

***