The current Wyrm of the most infamous school for villains in the United States, Dragon, was not enjoying the start of his day. Yet another parent had sent in student applications for her children, decided rules were something that happened to other people, and demanded a meeting with Wyrm. He wished this was an uncommon occurrence.
As a general rule, the sorts of parents who'd send their children to Dragon tended to be scumbags, apathetic, terrified, morons, terrified morons, or simply utterly amoral. He wasn't sure which one Specter would fall under, but her demands indicated she could safely be assumed an idiot. Sending three siblings to school? Fantastic. Demanding that they be kept in the same course tracks despite their differing powersets? Absolutely moronic. Even the photos she'd attached had been little than than blackened silhouettes, something which was blatantly unacceptable.
Wyrm loved his job for most of the year — as far as he was concerned, villainy was simply a fun way to keep society from stagnating — but the quarterly inclusion of new students never ceased to be aggravating. Smarter parents tried to avoid meeting with him, understanding he could simply pluck hidden information from the depths of their minds. Dumber ones didn't bother gathering even such an ill-kept secret and came in entirely unprepared. The educated-but-foolish tried, and failed, to use various methods to block his access.
Speaking of which...
A new presence was briskly walking toward him, its mind blurred by some pathetic attempt at defense. He slid around the block with ease born from long and exasperating practice, looked "up," and froze.
Part of an incomprehensibly enormous and alien mind looked back at him, the comparatively small sliver radiating something akin to amused contempt. An accident of creation, an entity born from countless stars and planets being crushed into an evolving mind despite all odds. An abomination that kept eating and eating everything until it got bored, then decided to go out and see what else life had to offer.
A universe was a large place and the omniverse even bigger, Wyrm knew, but this was just...
I'm going to die.
This one's mine. Crawl home, little Wyrm, and perhaps I won't devour everything you hold dear.
Elspeth Adair slid back into the driver seat of her car less than five minutes after leaving it. Her husband, still wearing the human avatar she'd helped him build, grinned back at her.
"That was quick," her husband remarked cheerfully. "What, did you threaten him at gunpoint or something?"
Elspeth rolled her eyes and didn't even bother to respond. He knew very well why Wyrm had simply left a note saying "Granted." in somewhat shaky writing. It was nice, knowing her beloved could keep her private thoughts private — or that he would sooner devour the planet than let it truly hurt her, for that matter. She'd never admit that, but she knew he knew and that was enough for both of them. Avoiding such subjects was its own source of entertainment.
Elspeth vaguely wondered when they'd tell their children that their father had never been an actual mortal to begin with. Soon, perhaps; they'd seemed distinctly underwhelmed by the reveal of their own natures. If anything, they'd probably want to see him devour a few nebulae. She'd certainly thought the sight was beautiful back when they were first dating. And how many other men proposed using rings they'd formed from the hearts of former stars?