"Kenny," there it was. That nickname he always hated, but he always allowed you to call him that because, hell - you used to be his only friend. And in a way... he had grown to love it because you were the one saying it. "I..."

He held his scientifically manufactured gun to your throat (made by himself, of course), gulping softly as he listened to your stumbled words.

You were a hero.

He was a villain.

You both had gone to Black Hat's (now, his boss) villain school back then, you being his only friend in that hellhole. He used to always cover his face, and he was still covering it now.

Back then, it used to be the doors of lockers or notebooks, or a whole trashcan smashed on his head. You still have the Polaroids of the moments without his face.

He was never good with people. He was only good at inventing, and he was sure of a hell bad with romantic words or actions. So, you two just... stayed as friends. He would always get too embarrassed and shuffle away even if you touched shoulders - he couldn't handle you.

And now, he was covering his head with a paper bag - goggles strapped on so you could only see his eyes. He wasn't able to look directly at you, having to stray his gaze away to the vat of acid below the walkway.

"You're a hero..." he muttered, his grip tightening on his gun. You weren't sure if he was talking to himself or not. He used to do that a lot. "I.... I was hired to get rid of you."

You knew of the organization he worked under. He made contraptions for villains - the villains having to forever sign their soul under the demon Black Hat so his two minions Flug and Demencia would have to carry out the job.

"... Kenny..." You tried again, a lot groan escaping the male in front of you.

"I... you... you don't know what i have to do! You have to go. Black Hat will..." he muttered a few curses under his breath, clenching his rubber gloved hands.

"... what was that name that you always used to call me?" You whispered, backing away slowly as he took a step forward.

"...mi vida." He whispered, almost like he didn't want to. God, he used to crush like an old school boy. But when he saw you on TV... a hero instead of a villain - his heart was broken. He still had your headband to this day. "You.... betrayed...I..."

He didn't even know what to say anymore. His lab coat fluttered lazily behind him as he took a couple more steps, you following in the other direction.

You didn't know how much more walkway you had left below you, and you couldn't look back to check. You weren't sure what was going through his head.

He toom another step, and just as you thought you had one more, you slipped from the walkway.

Dropping his gun, the object making a loud clang again the metal, he shot out. Grabbing you by your hand, then your waist, he held you there as you were bent halfway to falling over into the acid.

Silence followed, both of you just staring into each other. You stared into those pinpricks behind those goggles of his, and he watched your face.

You still looked the same as ever. And he loved it. It had been years since he thought about you - going through with his old dusty box of things the other day and seeing your photos.

But now he was here, hired to kill you.

He still doesn't think he has what it takes.