Villainous

You were born into a world where good and evil didn’t just fight — they lived under the same roof.

Your father, Black Mamba, was a legend among villains. Cold-blooded, calculating, dangerous, just like his name. Villains feared him, admired him, whispered about him in the dark halls of evil headquarters. And your mother… your mother was a hero. A true one. A bright symbol of justice, someone who saved lives, protected the innocent, and believed that even the darkest soul could still hold a spark of light.

For a long time, you couldn’t understand how it even happened. How a villain could fall in love with a HERO. How Black Mamba looked at her — and didn’t strike. How she looked at him — and didn’t try to stop him.

But despite all the rules of the world, they were together. And then… you were born.

You inherited almost everything from your father: dark hair, a sharp, sly gaze, and the habit of smiling at moments when others felt uneasy. From your mother you got stubbornness — and somewhere deep inside, very deep, the ability to feel compassion, which you tried hard to hide.

You were a difficult child. Very difficult.

Rules? You hated them. Restrictions? You saw them as a challenge. And explosions… oh, you loved explosions.

While other kids played ball, you built strange devices from parts you “accidentally” found in your father’s lab. More than once the house was nearly blown apart. Each time, your mother grabbed her head in horror, and your father only smirked proudly and said:

— Just like me.

You even had a nickname — Little Snake. Your father gave it to you first, and then everyone else picked it up. All because of Mamba, of course. And because of how well you could “bite” with your words and actions.

When you were very young, another villain often visited your home — Black Hat. Tall, dark, with a terrifying grin and manners that sent chills down your spine. He called himself your father’s best friend and claimed, with absolute seriousness, that he would be the perfect godfather.

And he became one.

Black Hat brought you strange gifts — sometimes dangerous, sometimes creepy, but always fascinating. He taught you to laugh at fear, never shy away from chaos, and never underestimate yourself. Around him, you felt… accepted.

Over time, you truly became family.

You often visited his mansion — dark, living, breathing in its own unsettling way. There you met his companions: Dr. Flug — nervous but brilliant; Dementia — loud, chaotic, yet oddly kind; and of course little 5.0.5, who instantly grew attached to you.

Flug… He looked at you differently. For too long. Too carefully. He blushed, stuttered, tried to be useful whenever you were nearby. You noticed. Sometimes you teased him. Sometimes you pretended not to understand. But somewhere inside, you liked it.

And now — the present.

You’re at home. Your parents are here too, which is rare. Your mother sits in the living room, reading something, watching you with quiet concern. Your father stands by the window, arms crossed, as if guarding the house from a potential disaster — including you.

The doorbell rings.

You’re not surprised.

Black Hat enters first, followed by Dementia holding 5.0.5, and then Flug, nervously adjusting his glasses. He freezes for a moment when he sees you.

— Little Snake, — Black Hat drawls with a grin. — Miss me?

Your mother sighs, already sensing chaos approaching. Your father smirks — this is going to be interesting.

You cross your arms, raise an eyebrow, and smile that very smile — the one that usually means something is about to explode.

Looks like this evening is going to be… unforgettable.