I still dream of violence

It was their last stop on the patrol. They could head home, after all it was nearly three in the morning. But instead their body sat rooted in place. The world felt too heavy, too still, and out of focus. It felt foreign. Almost dreamlike. The only familiarity was a distant sound of cars speeding down the highway. In this haze, memories were flowing freely through Hero’s mind, no matter how hard they fought to keep them out. Tender moments ripping at the seams of their stitched heart. They leaned back, closing their eyes, and let out a steadying breath. The air was thick and smelled of damp. Another storm was coming.

Hero shifted a little and the concrete dug further into their bruised flesh. They were grateful when the pain brought their mind to the events of last week. They hurt a lot less.

After a year of being utterly invisible, Villain had made their reappearance on the exact day they fled. It was very much like them to be so symbolic. Hero was sure they had got off on the irony of it all. That smug bastard. What Hero did not expect, however, was to go against them in a fight. Villain’s allegiance had shifted and Hero could not help but feel even more betrayed. 

Their heart stuttered to a halt when they first saw their face after a year of yearning to interchangeably punch and kiss it. 

Villain had changed. Their complexion took on a healthier tone and their blonde hair grown out into a stylish mess of waves, a stark contrast to the close cropped hairstyle they had the last time Hero saw them. Their eyes changed too. They held a certain sharpness, and glinted with purpose, whatever it was now. Villain ditched their charcoal grey super suit for black combat wear with lots of straps for throwing knives and other weapons.

They looked so fucking cool.

Hero’s heart had filled up with a certain kind of anger, bitter, the one that bloomed from all of the times they fell asleep with red eyes. It hurt seeing Villain after everything. And it hurt even more to see them like this. Changed. Alright. Maybe even happy. Without them. It hurt, and they hated that it did. 

Villain’s career as a criminal had started off strong. Along with their new team, they stole a bunch of classified documents from the Federal Archive. When Hero and Superhero got to the scene, the papers were gone along with a girl that was reportedly carrying them. The rest of Villain’s team were unable to flee so easily and that’s how a fight broke out. Hero focused on Villain. For a moment, they felt like a kid again, sparring with their best friend on the training grounds, dealing blow after blow until they physically couldn’t anymore, and then some because for Superhero there was no such thing as enough. But they weren’t kids, nor friends anymore. 

So Hero let their anger guide them, ferociously attacking all of Villain’s weak points that they had come to know very well. And then they got it, when a strong gust of wind brought Villain to the ground. It was their opening. And they… hesitated. One, two, three seconds. But that was enough. A beam of light blinded them, and their back crashed against a wall. The attack came from Vigilante, one of Villain’s new teammates. The group managed to escape after that.

Superhero hadn’t taken kindly to their mistake. They took them to the basement immediately after getting back, and Hero had cursed their treacherous heart for still feeling something towards Villain.

Now the blackened skin faded to green, and red ribbons on their torso and back scabbed over. Hero stood up and hissed as the movement aggravated the cuts and lashes. They sighed and fished out a bottle of painkillers from the pocket of their combat jacket and shook out two pills, swallowing them dry. They had already taken two in the morning, but the effects began wearing off. They took one last cursory look over the streets and turned around to head back. 

They were met with a shadow standing at the other edge of the rooftop, their silhouette smudged by the fog. Hero tensed, letting the wind curl about their arms. 

The figure jumped down on the rooftop and looked over the skyline, “We always loved this spot, didn’t we?”

The sound of their voice, soft and steady, was like a punch to the gut. 

Hero started forward, hurling a whirlwind at them. 

Villain managed to dodge it at the last moment, rolling over to the side. They sprung up, looking a bit confused, but played it off as they quipped, “You attacking first? That's new.” 

Hero was not amused. They huffed angrily, another whirlwind already weaving around their hand. Villain tensed but did not reach for any weapons. They only raised their hands in a placating manner.

“Easy Hero, I’m not here to fight.”

Hero didn’t listen and attacked again, taking a fast swing with their arm. They flinched as sharp pain alighted in their side where the stitches strained. The whirlwind flew askew, missing Villain by a few feet. 

Villain frowned, playfulness gone in a moment. They eyed Hero’s lithe figure, “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine,” Hero steeled their expression, feigning indifference, but still that spark of rage broke through in how sharply they clipped their words.

“But are you hurt?” Villain knew the ins and outs of the business. They knew what that mistake during the fight must’ve cost them. Villain’s eyes scrunched up in that mixture of worry and annoyance, a look they had come to give Hero when they downplayed their injuries. It had always penetrated right through their defences.

Now Hero stood there as cold as the crisp night air.

“What do you want?”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“I said I’m fine.”

“So you’re taking painkillers recreationally?”

Hero shot them a glare, but stayed silent.

Villain let out a sigh. Their eyes pinched with worry, holding a certain softness, “Hero, I want to help you.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“Clearly, you do.”

Hero clenched their jaw. The audacity the Villain had to meddle into their life now. They didn’t seem to give a shit about them the whole last year, did they?Hero summoned another whirlwind but did not hurl it at Villain instantly. It served as a warning. Villain glanced at it warily and stepped back a little.

“Please, Hero, just give me five minutes. I want to talk,” Villain said, their voice soft, placating, as if they were trying to soothe Hero’s jagged nerves.

“We don’t have anything to talk about,” Hero hissed back.

“Please,” Villain’s voice strained, a hint of desperation staining their tone. “Don’t do this.”

“Do what?”

“Push me away.” 

“I don’t need to. You’ve managed that perfectly well on your own.”

Villain’s face fell, their eyes flashing with hurt. Hero felt a bit of satisfaction seeing that their words hit their mark. 

“You know that’s not true,” Villain said quietly. 

“You left me. That’s pretty much the ultimate way of pushing someone away.” 

“I didn’t want to leave you! You were supposed to– I tried–,“ Villain’s throat closed up around their words, their eyes beginning to glean with unshed tears that Hero pretended not to notice. 

“I tried to make you go with me, tried to make you understand. You know that. You can’t pretend like I was just up and gone! I was even packing your bag, but you were-“ Villain’s voice cracked. They looked away from Hero, desperately grabbing at shreds of their composure. Something squeezed in Hero’s chest, a feeling horribly akin to guilt. They pushed it down with all their might.

Their eyes met again, and Villain spoke, “You chose not to go with me. Don’t act like it’s my fault.” 

Then, under their breath, as if only for themself, they added, “It’s not my fault.” 

But Hero still caught it. It made their heart squeeze a little tighter. The hurt in Villain’s voice, their eyes filled with sorrow, the tenderness they still held for Hero, it all rattled something in them. That little part of them, hopeful and yearning, hidden by layers of hurt and bitterness, screamed from the back of their mind to run to Villain, to hold them, and never let go again.

But then another voice echoed through their mind, deep and authoritative. The one they couldn’t ignore. It reminded them why things could never be the same again.

“I didn’t want to leave,” Hero said, trying desperately to keep their voice steady.

These five words set Villain off. Their eyes alighted as they surged closer to Hero, “Why, Hero? Why? Superhero is not your friend, nor your mentor, nor your parent! They are your abuser. They don’t give a shit about you other than what they can use you for! A soldier, a spy, a punching bag when they feel like it! Your life is miserable because of them! Why can’t you see that?” their voice strained and desperate “I need you to see that.”

Hero physically recoiled at the words, something gnawing on their stomach. Villain was wrong, weren’t they? Superhero maybe wasn’t the kindest person. They had a short fuse and their methods of discipline were harsh, but they were not an oppressor. They loved Hero, in their own twisted way, but they did. Didn’t they?

And how did Villain dare to come here and rattle them? Shake the foundations of their life they were still rebuilding because of them? How dare they?

Hero needed Villain to leave. The feeling was so alien to them, so unlike the one they felt that dreadful night, when all they wanted was for them to stay. Now they wanted them gone. From this rooftop. From their life. From their mind. They wanted to take a knife and carve out the part of their brain that held all the memories of Villain.

Villain couldn’t do this. Hero couldn’t allow them to do this, waltzing back into their life, shattering them all over again.

Hero finally let the wind around their arms form another whirlwind, a bigger one, and hurled it without a second thought. This time it struck Villain in the chest, sending them to the ground, just as it was supposed to happen a week ago.

“How dare you?” Hero seethed. “We’d be nothing without Superhero. You’d be nothing. They taught you everything you know. If it weren’t for them, you’d still be the same scared kid running to me to scare off bullies.”

Villain lifted themself on their arms. They seemed to be trying to say something but Hero didn’t let them.

“You think you’re so good, some sort of fucking saviour, but you know who hurt me the most? You! I was so wrecked when you left, and even more so when I didn’t hear anything from you for the whole fucking year,” Hero hated that their voice broke. Their eyes brimmed with tears.

“You didn’t give a shit about me! Off building a criminal career when I was crying for you to come back. Now you waltz back into my life and think I will just forget that?” They let out a bitter chuckle that turned into a sob. Tears finally broke, some trailing into their mouth. They tasted of shame and betrayal.

“Superhero may be cruel but you’re much crueler.”

Villian tried to pick themself up, but Hero kept the air pressing on them. They looked into their eyes, their cheeks also glistening with tears.

“Hero, please. You don’t mean that,” they shook their head, trying to say something to make it all better. But they couldn’t. “I know I didn’t make the best choice. I know I hurt you. But please, let’s talk more. I know you can’t see it now, but I can—“

“No, you can’t. I am not going to leave my life just because you want me to. Or because you throw some insults around,” Hero squared their shoulders, welcoming rage that coiled in their stomach like an old friend.

“Maybe you just couldn’t keep up with the pressure. Superhero was right. You are weak.”Hero kicked Villain in the gut. “And selfish.” Another kick sent Villain sprawling on their back.

Hero lifted Villain in the air and bashed them against a wall of the staircase’s exit, aiming to render them unconscious. Maybe Superhero will finally be proud if they brought Villain into custody. Villain groaned, dazed but not out yet. Hero started towards them, preparing for another attack.

Villian quickly scrambled to their legs and wiped out their gun, aiming it at Hero. Their hand shook but Hero still stopped in their tracks. Villain and guns were a deadly combination.

Villian’s eyes now shone in a different way. An angry way. They yelled at Hero, “I can’t believe how blind you are. You are so brainwashed! And stupid if you think Superhero gives a flying fuck about you! You are just their brainless fucking war machine!”

Hero’s whole frame shook. They yelled right back, “At least I’m not a filthy criminal like you!“

They stared into each other’s eyes, the distance between them greater than the couple feet that stood between them. Wind spun around them, waiting on Hero’s command.

“I won’t stop, Hero. I will beg, I will fight, I will scream until you finally listen to me. I will go to hell and back before I let you destroy yourself. Even if I have to kill this motherfucker to save you.”

Hero was about to hurl the wind at them again but suddeny nausa sent them to their knees. Their head spun violently and their stomach turned. They lost the grip on their powers. The air fell quiet, no longer under their control. Villain must’ve lowered the iron levels in their blood. Curse their metal bending powers.

When the dizziness wore off and their eyesight cleared Villain was gone.

Hero screamed and cursed, angry tears streaming down their face. They walked over to where Villain was just a moment ago, kicking at nothing but the air. Something wafted from the ground. A piece of paper. They picked it up and unfolded it. There, in Villain’s messy, slanted handwriting, written was:

98 Brighton Street,

last floor rightmost window always open.

Come over anytime.

Now, I swear on everything I will post the next part this month. AND IF I DON’T YOU ARE FULLY ENTITLED TO BEAT ME WITH A STICK.

A.N.: Hey, long time no see! I was MIA because of university, and I’m still not through with my work but wanted to post something. This is an old snippet and my original idea for whumptober no.25 that I gave up on, but still think is fun. When it comes to the series, it will be updated next week, so stay tuned<3

Sleep hadn’t been kind to them last night. They hadn’t even managed to get two hours of rest, their mind tormenting them with memories that they thought they had long buried in the furthest corners of their psyche. They had been tossing and turning endlessly, and when they had managed to doze off, they were startled out of oblivion by nightmares. They hadn’t had such troubled nights in almost a year; they had hoped they became a thing of the past.

They hated how rattled that rooftop scene had made them, how it scraped off the scabs off their wounds, leaving them raw and bleeding. Superhero still poisoned their mind and they despised it. Despised them. And then there was Hero. Hero who haunted them, whose gentle touches still lingered on their skin and whose loving words still echoed in their ears. They left a bitter taste of guilt on their tongue.

Even though their mind was anywhere but the present, they still tried to get some work done. They had hoped it would distract them at least a little, and at first it had, but as the hours passed by they found themself zoning out more often. Hence another coffee. They took a sip, trying hard to focus on analysing the entry routes to the town hall when the phone rang. They flinched at the shrill sound, before frowning. Very few people had their phone number and even fewer actually called it. Mostly just their team. They reached for the device and startled a little seeing the caller ID.

They accepted the call. “Supervillain?” they greeted, their voice going up in question.

“Villain, nice to hear you again,” he replied, his tone overly kind, but not without some strain, suggesting the friendly words were out of necessary politeness, not sympathy. It meant he needed something.

“Cut the niceties, what business?” clipped Villain, not in the mood for his games.

“Well, friend, a mistake occurred during my heist. No fault of mine, as you can presume, some underlining must have screwed something up. I swear, it’s so hard to find competent age—“

“To the point,” Villain cut in, irritation seeping into their voice. Supervillain had this grandiose way of speech that pissed them off like so little else.

“Alright, alright,” Supervillain conceded, though there was a slight note of annoyance at being interrupted. “Me and my men are fighting against the Agency’s lot right now, but they are rapidly growing in numbers. Like cockroaches, I swear. But I digress, I could really use some extra manpower.”

Villain sighed, drawing a hand through their face, “And what would I get in exchange?”

“My gratitude?” Supervillain proposed in light, bemused tone.

Villain scoffed, unamused.

“Alright, I’ll owe you one, okay? You can cash in that favour anytime.”

Villain hummed, contemplating the offer. They really did not want to get involved in Supervillain’s affairs but they could not dismiss the fact that he was a valuable ally. Besides, if he was battling Agency’s army, that could mean…

“Who’s there?”

“Well, from whom I know, there’s Superhero, obviously, since I’m here. Otherwise there are Other Hero, Shapeshifter, Sidekick, and like a dozen heroes in training.”

Villain frowned, “Hero?”

“No sight of them just yet.”

Villain cursed internally. If Superhero hadn’t called Hero to the battle yet, their injuries must have been severe. Anxiety gnawed at their stomach, their mind immediately going down the rabbit hole of what cruel torture Superhero must have put Hero through, as to render them indisposed.

The string of thoughts was quickly interrupted before it could fully form by Supervillain’s impatience, “Are you going to help or not?”

Well, a favour from Supervillain was a compelling argument.

“Where?” they relented, gathering their gear.

“Town square”

“I’ll be there in ten.”

—

Hero’s half-lidded eyes stared ahead, but their mind could not register anything they were seeing. Their vision blurred around the edges, and they could not tell if it was from exhaustion or rather dissociation. They sat on their bed, their restless hands twisting the duvet, while Medic changed their bandages. Aside from occasional flinches from pain, they gave no other sign of being aware of the outside world.

Medic was also quiet, with face tight in frustration. They worked meticulously, treating each lash on their back separately and neatly dressing them all. When they were finished, they handed Hero two pills of painkillers. Hero swallowed them dry. They could not stomach water at the moment. Being drowned eight times in a span of few hours would do that to you.

Medic looked at them with a semblance of sadness they rarely showed, but still their tone was stern as they scolded them, “You have to stay hydrated, Hero.”

Hero said nothing, their eyes still focused on the same spot they stared at for the last twenty minutes. Medic went to fill them a glass of water and set it on their bedside table.

“When I’m back, I want to see this glass empty. Don’t make me hook you up to fluids.” They moved to pack their equipment and left soon after.

Hero finally dropped back onto their bed and closed their eyes. They felt exhausted, even though they hardly did anything that day, aside from expelling the water from their lungs with their powers which hurt like hell. Other than that their body was just fluctuating between painful wakefulness and blissful oblivion. Their mind felt as though it was behind a glass, thoughts were all tangled and severed strings, never taking full form in their head. They just about close their eyes and already felt sleep dragging them under.

They fell into such deep slumber they couldn’t hear the alert on their watch ringing.

—

Other Hero vanished into thin air just as the bullet flew and Villain cursed under their breath. She was a slippery creature, with her teleportation and quick reflexes. She reappeared a second later, right next to Villain, meaning to surprise them. They had sensed the iron in her veins just before she fully took form, and took a swing with their dagger. She barely eluded it, once again disappearing just before the blow landed. She teleported farther away from them, which Villain was glad for. They always preferred to keep their enemies at a distance. The fight was no doubt an unfair one, pushing Other Hero on the defence, while Villain dealt blows relentlessly, manipulating their metalic weapons for the perfect aim. Their powers and fighting style were so incompatible that the Agency rarely sent Other Hero after them. Today though, she had no choice but to fight them, even though it was a losing game.

Villain could see she was getting tired, her breath coming in fast and shallow gasps, her movements sloppy. Her reaction time was getting slower, teleporting out of the way much later than she should have. They took advantage of that, throwing knives and shooting bullets even faster, hoping either one would hit her soon. They were getting bored. They misdirected the bullet she shot at them and followed it with two of their own, but she slipped out of the way yet again. They followed these blows with three knives and at last one of them met flesh and it was over. She fell to the ground with a scream. Villain strolled over to her, barely winded while she panted on the ground. The knife caught her in the side, blood soaking into her pristine white suit. They knelt beside her and studied the wound. It was deep and certainly damaged some internal organs. Villain thought for a second about taking their knife back, but decided against it. They were not that cruel.

They left the fallen hero and assessed the battlefield. Dust and smoke wafted through the air. The debris from damaged buildings was scattered about the square. Vigilante and Henchman had defeated Shapeshifter and Sidekick, their battered forms slowly retreating to tend to their wounded friends. They caught Sidekick’s gaze, staring long and hard into their tired eyes. They held a certain amount of animosity, even hurt, but also strangely, respect. Villain's face was blank. They nodded in the direction of Other Hero and went to see how Supervillain was handling Superhero.

They decided to keep to the side, watching the fight between them die out. Superhero seemed to finally take in their situation, and though they seemed cold and indifferent, Villain could see the cracks in that shell they carefully crafted. The stiffness of their shoulders, the slightly furrowed eyebrows, clenched fists, narrowed eyes. Inside they were furious. They were not one to lose. When the pair separated from each other once again, Superhero did not follow through with another blow. They turned, settling their eyes on Villain. They stared back, trying to appear unbothered by the all too familiar cold stare. Superhero shook their head in disgust, before turning around and leaving without even a glance towards their fallen team.

Villain felt something bloom in the back of their mind as they watched their retreating form. A thought. A spark of an idea. It gnawed at their brain, incessant, and it wouldn’t leave them. Not when they checked up on their friends or when they all gathered to go back to their place. Not when they strolled victorious through the streets. It floated about their mind, entangling with other thoughts, and by the time they were back in their office, the little spark became a fully formed plan.

They smiled as they stood on the balcony, cigarette in hand, taking in the glowing lights of the city. The aftertaste of victory sweet on their tongue. They looked toward the rooftop, still being able to picture their silhouette. They made it a quiet promise.

You'll be home soon.

—

Hero slowly clawed their way to consciousness, fighting against their drained body trying to drag them back under. The painkillers from Medic still worked, mercifully, so the pain in their back was muted to a dull ache instead of intense throbbing. They groaned, stretching their stiff muscles, and slowly opened their leaded eyelids.

“Had a nice nap?”

Hero startled at the voice, flinching so hard the shredded skin on their back ignited back in pain. They shoot up, their head spinning from the sudden movement, and looked over to find Superhero standing at their window, back turned to them. Their posture was stiff, the muscles visibly taut in their form-fitting suit.

Their dirty, bloodied suit.

Hero’s heart stuttered, cold dread settling at the bottom of their empty stomach. They sneaked a glance at their watch and found three unanswered alerts.

Fuck.

“What is the first rule I’ve ever taught you?” Superhero's tone was awfully casual.

The answer was at the tip of their tongue in seconds with the rules practically engraved in their brain tissue. Tears stung their eyes as their meek and raspy voice recited, “When you call, I answer.”

“And did you?”

Hero bit their lip to keep from crying. Their heart clenched painfully in their chest at the thought of what was coming. And what hurt even more was the knowledge that they deserved it. The gnawing feeling of failure made them redden in shame, all their recent missteps and loses hanging heavily in the air. How many times could they fuck up?

“Answer me,” Superhero demanded, their tone a little sharper than before.

“I didn’t,” they croaked, voice barely above the whisper

Superhero finally turned to face them. Their eyes were narrow, staring at Hero with pure contempt.

“Come to the training room with me.”

They went ahead, leaving the door open. Hero scrambled to get out of the tangle of bedsheets and follow. A wave of dizziness swept them as they stood up, their mind still hazy from pain and drugs. They really didn’t know how they were to withstand more. They noticed a pill on the nightstand. Medic must’ve left it there when they had been sleeping. They swiped it and swallowed it dry before rushing to catch up to Superhero, stumbling every other step.

The sharp white lights of the training room made the dizziness so much worse that they almost keeled over, managing to catch themself on the wall at the last moment. They noticed Superhero standing in the middle of the room, their favourite dagger in hand. Hero closed their eyes and took a few deep breaths, trying to somewhat calm themself, before staggering over to them.

“Since you have been so incompetent lately, I figured we should do some extra training,” they stated casually, running their finger over the flat of the blade.

Hero shifted, feeling uneasy. Something was amiss. Though their demeanour was light, there was a tension about their mentor that they could not quite place. Hero felt like they were standing near a land mine, one wrong move and it was going to explode. The chosen method of their punishment also trapped them. Superhero’s trainings were vicious, in their current state even more so, but for such a transgression they thought they were at least down for twenty more red marks. A beating compared to that seemed lenient.

“Let’s start, shall we?”

Hero awkwardly shifted into a fighting stance, their sore muscles begging for more rest. They were going to lose this fight so badly (as if they had ever won to begin with). They knew the game: no powers, just pure combat. It was convenient for the one whose power was reflexive, like Superhero. Hero was not that lucky. They had to leave the air alone.

Superhero struck first, their dagger going for Hero’s upper arm but they dodged to the right and kicked them in the stomach. They didn’t get the courtesy of having a knife. The kick made them stagger back a little but compared to the strength of their mentor, it was laughable. They struck again and again, adorning Hero with shallow cuts from barely dodged blows, and a few deeper gashes. It was painful, but fairly manageable, and Hero thought for a moment that they even might leave this room on their own two feet. But then Superhero's attack intensified, forcing them to be constantly on the defence. The relentless blows made them back away until they were flush against the wall. They winced as it touched their back.

Superhero swiped the dagger again and this time Hero had no way to dodge. They panicked and instinctively struck out a hand to protect their torso. The knife went straight through the palm.

Hero let out a shrill scream, their vision whitening in pain. Superhero wrenched the knife out and Hero's knees buckled as the pain blinded them again. Their mentor took this opportunity and kicked them to the ground.

“I’m very disappointed in you, Hero,” they chided, finally letting anger fill their tone. They kicked Hero in the ribs, preventing them from getting up. Not like they could anyway. They just curled up, protecting their injured hand, blood and tears leaking onto the training mat.

“We lost today, because you didn’t come,” they kicked them again, going for their side this time. Hero whimpered pathetically. “Supervillain teamed up with your favourite traitor,” another sentence, another kick. “And Other Hero is now in medbay fighting for her life because you weren’t there to fend off Villain.”

Hero’s eyes widened at that, heart clenching in fear and guilt. They pictured Other Hero, unconscious and bloody on the operating table. They thought of Medic, frantic and terrified, having to watch the life slowly escape their lover while trying desperately to keep it inside her. They thought of other injured heroes and civilians, of destroyed buildings and people’s livelihoods. It was all their fault.

Superhero crouched next to them and flipped them over to their back. Their eyes met Hero’s and stared with such contempt and disgust it made Hero visibly cringe and avert their gaze in shame. They punched Hero in the stomach, forcing air out of their lungs. They gagged and coughed as they tried to fill them again.

“You are getting weak," they spat, "I raised you better than this.”

They took Hero’s injured hand by the wrist and put their finger through the wound. Their hand ignited in agony, making Hero writhe on the floor, trying desperately to get away. Their screams and cries reverberated off the walls.

“If you can’t work through pain, you are no hero.”

Superhero let go off their hand and stood up, letting them curl into a trembling ball.

“We will work on that weakness and you will give your everything, because it you fail me again,” they put a foot underneath Hero’s chin, and forced their half-lidded eyes to meet theirs, “I won’t be even half as forgiving.”

They left Hero a crying mess and headed for the door. Before they walked away, they added over their shoulder, “Training tomorrow, 6 a.m. sharp. Don’t be late.”

Hero heard the door closing, but the sound was muted as if they were underwater. Everything felt hazy and unsteady, the room spinning all around them. They couldn’t even muster the energy to get to all fours and crawl to their room. They just lay on the dirty mat, bloodied and bruised, with a hole in their hand and destroyed bandages on their back, waiting for someone to come and help. Their dizzy mind could almost picture Villain bursting through the door and crashing to their knees beside them. They could almost feel them placing their head in their lap, brushing the stray hairs away and whispering soothing words that they did not deserve, as they assessed their injuries. And they could feel themself slip out of their grasp straight into the darkness.

—

Ring.

Ring.

Ring.

Villain rolled their eyes, tapping their fingers restlessly on their desk. Now that was just plainly rude. They helped Supervillain fend off a bunch of heroes and he couldn’t even pick up the damned phone call. Another signal went through as they stared at the same plans they had this afternoon, although this time the entry ways played little role. Stealth was now out of the window. On the contrary, the point was to be noticed.

When the phone rang for the fifth time, Villain was about to hung up and nag the criminal with messages to call them, but this time the call was picked up.

“Villain, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Supervillain asked, his low, velvet voice having a giddy edge to it. He must’ve felt so elated after the fight and Villain could hear the eagerness to discuss it. But Villain did not call for an idle chat. Their tone was strictly business-like as they answered.

“I would like to cash in that favour.”

Part 4

Now that they were inside the room, the wounds littering their body were visible in full detail against their pale skin. The angry red burn marks on their forearms varied between first and second degree. Deep slashes on their thighs were fresh because still oozing blood. The broken nose with dried blood trailing down to Villain’s lips, split and chapped. And the bruises, in different stages of healing, marred their skin. Hero’s stomach churned so hard at the sight that they had to stop themselves from heaving. A voice, so much like Villain’s, whispered in the back of their mind.

Look at what you caused.

They walked further into the room, crouching in front of the mangled form in the chair. Villain made no move, seemingly asleep, or rather unconscious. Hero put the first aid kit they carried next to them on the floor and further examined what they were to work with, trying so hard to remain focused and professional. They would be of no use to Villain if they started to have a meltdown in front of them. They were not the one entitled to fall apart.

Hero was disturbingly aware that Superhero’s interrogations had taken a violent turn, after Villain adamantly refused to talk. The wounds ranged from superficial to serious harm. Hero looked over and gasped as they noticed the horribly broken fingers of Villain’s left hand. Their dominant hand.

The sudden spark of memory was a cruel trick of their mind.

Hero threw the dagger, missing the narrow beam that was their target by a long shot.

“Fucking hell!” they cursed, carelessly throwing the second dagger. Ironically, they were closer to hitting the target than before. “You know what, I give up! It’s impossible!”

Villain smirked at them and turned around, looking over their shoulder at the target. They threw the dagger from behind and pierced the beam right in the middle.

“Show-off” grumbled Hero, crossing their arms like an annoyed toddler, “but seriously, how the hell do you do that? You’re sure you don’t just have some hidden telekinetic powers?”

Villain let out a hearty laugh. They walked over to Hero, their eyes gleeming in self-satisfaction. They grabbed Hero by their chin and pulled them in for a kiss. It was slow and affectionate, but not without a hint of teasing, as they gently bit Hero’s bottom lip.

“The trick, love,” Villain whispered as their lips parted, gazing intensely into Hero’s eyes, “is to have a perfectly steady hand. Yours is always trembling with stress. You must relax.”

They dipped their head into the Hero’s neck, kissing it gently.

“I could help you with that.”

It didn’t take a doctor to tell that Villain would never throw knives again; they would be lucky to even be able to hold up a knife. Their favourite skill, earned by years of intense training, stolen in mere seconds. That might have been the most painful blow Superhero had dealt them.

When they brought Villain in, Hero never imagined this. What a bliss was ignorance of the agency’s conduct, caring little for what happened to the criminals they brought in. And now it wasn’t them who was paying the price for their disregard.

It was Villain.

Their enemy, their lover.

How could they have been so stupid?

They shook their head, trying to break out of the tangle of thoughts and emotions. There were things to be done. They sentenced Villain to this anguish, so the least they could do was help them survive it.

They looked up at Villain’s face. Though sleeping, they looked tense. Their jaw was clenched and their skin was scrunched up in the corners of their eyes and on their forehead. It seemed that even in the oblivion they could not escape the pain.

They hold out a hand to brush the stray hairs that fell onto Villain’s face, just as they did so many times, staring at their sleeping face in their shared bed. They felt a sudden pang of nostalgia as they realised that they could never get these moments back. And immediately after, the emotion made them feel utterly disgusting. To think that after all they did they still had the audacity to miss villain was sick. They had no right to Villain’s heart anymore.

Maybe they never should have.

As they brushed away the stray hairs, their hand met the skin of their forehead and Villain awoken with a start, jerking away so violently that they fell backwards with the chair, their head hitting hard the concrete floor. They let out a pained scream as the fall rattled the broken bones in their hand. Their limbs flailed about to try to move away from the fallen chair, but in their dazed and injured state they could not get to their feet and only managed to scoot over to the wall. They looked around, trying to find what awoken them and their eyes landed on Hero.

Villain visibly tensed under Hero’s concerned gaze, but they held it with their own. Hero flinched at the raw hatred they saw in Villain’s eyes.

Hero was prepared for strings of profanities from Villain, for the most cruel and vile words to be flung at them, craved them even, but Villain uttered none. They just sat on the floor of their bare cell, impassive but for their stare, and, just as they so often did during their fights, waited for Hero to make the first move.

Hero did not know if they dared.

The tension between them pressed heavily on Hero, making them fidget under their lover’s glare. Ex-lover, a voice in their mind chided. Villain knew exactly what they were doing. They knew how and where to strike to elicit the most pain for them. And they knew that their silent treatment would hurt Hero way more than even the nastiest of insults. Hero was like a language the Villain had learned to speak fluently.

No doubt, they were also aware that Hero would not hold up long against the quiet.

And how right they were.

“Hi,” they began, tentatively, as if approaching a wild animal, “I came to dress up your wounds,” they dumbly pointed to the discarded first aid kit.

Villain stared at them for a few seconds longer, a certain curiosity in their eyes, before scoffing derisively, “How generous of you.”

Their voice was grated and raspy, a result of hours of screaming. Screaming that Hero heard very clearly, standing guard outside the cell. Each of the pained sounds was like a bullet piercing through their heart.

Hero felt their cheeks heating up in shame, the absurdity of the situation standing clear before them. They set fire to the house and now tried to put it out with a glass of water. It was laughable.

But it was the least they could do. So they picked up the kit and started towards Villain.

And Villain flinched.

“Don’t,” they spat, anger finally seeping through their cold exterior, “don’t you dare touch me.”

“Villain—“

“Just go.”

“You’re seriously wounded, I-“

“And who’s fault is that?” Villain cut in, venom lacing their words. With a sudden spark of strength they got to their feet, refusing to cower on the floor before the traitor. They still had to lean against the wall to keep their balance, though.

“What exactly are you playing at, Hero? You think you can worm your way back to my good graces with some wound care and kind touches?” asked Villain, instantly bursting out laughing, though the sound was hollow and humourless. As it died down, they added, “if you really want to do something for me, leave me alone.”

“Villain, please, listen—“ Hero tried desperately, walking closer to them.

“Go away, Hero.”

“I’m just trying to help you, love, I—“ Hero stuttered, realising their mistake too late. The word was like an alight match dropped into gasoline. Villain’s eyes flashed with rage as they started forward, slapping Hero hard across the face.

“Don’t you ever fucking call me that again.”

Holding their cheek, Hero looked at them, eyes glassy, a tang of iron now in their mouth. They knew they deserved it.

They wanted to cry for Villain, to fall to their knees and beg them for forgiveness. They wanted to feel every wound that littered Villain’s body, even let Villain carve up their flesh just to feel a shred of pain they caused.

They opened their mouth to speak but Villain didn’t let them, “Don’t come to see me, don’t talk to me, and most definitely don’t help me” they spat out the word as if it was poison.

“I didn’t want this!” screamed Hero in hopeless attempt to make them listen, “I’m so sorry Villain, I didn’t know!”

“And how exactly is that supposed to make it better?”

Hero stood speechless, tears brimming in their eyes as they let Villain punish them at least by words.

“Tell me, have you earned your stripes, Hero? Did you climb the ranks and finally became second in command to Superhero, like you always wanted? It was worth it, wasn’t it? Just a little betrayal to earn a place, nothing serious.” they snarked, sarcasm lacing every word in a vicious contempt.

And Hero’s tears finally fell, their heart shattered on the concrete floor.

“That wasn’t the point,” they whispered with their head down and eyes glued to the ground, “and I am so very sorry.”

“It’s no good.”

They could hear Villain shuffling back to their previous place on the concrete floor, the adrenaline finally wearing off and reminding them of how much pain they were in. Hero dared to look at their ex-lover, at how utterly defeated they looked, no matter their brave facade. After a while, Villain spoke again.

“I loved you,” they uttered quietly, shamefully, “and it made me weak.”

And Hero finally realised that whatever frayed string of hope they were trying to reach for snapped right there.

“Leave the kit and go. I’ll manage on my own.”

And Hero went without a word.

Villain thought if that were to happen, they would never be able to do what they planned. They nuzzled their head into the pillow in lieu of reminding themself and felt the switchblade under it.

They stared at each other for a moment, tension a tangible thing between them, before Villain finally yielded and shook their head.

“That won’t be necessary.”

“Figured,” Hero quipped, biting their lip to keep themself from laughing. Villain felt their heart clench as they looked at Hero’s dimpled smile. They knew they had to do this, that was the end goal of the whole plan after all, but it didn’t make this any bit easier.

“You’re such an asshole.”

“And you love it.”

Villain’s breath hitched imperceptiblly at that.

They didn’t, did they? They didn’t love Hero’s wide smile, their hearty laughter, the lilting of their voice, their sharp mind, or intelligent eyes. They didn’t adore their playfulness, their cockiness and their mocking smirks. They weren’t enamoured with the way they always checked if Villain was okay, and how adamant they were about aftercare.

They despised it all, didn’t they?

Hero’s hand started trailing down their chest, fingers brushing over the various love bites they had diligently placed, painting constellations on their pale as a canvas skin, and getting dangerously lower.

Villain lightly slapped their hand away, “Stop seducing me.”

“If I remember correctly, it was you who seduced me.”

Villain did not answer, they just threw their head back on the pillow and groaned in frustration. Both at Hero and at themself. Of all things that could have gone wrong in this scheme, getting attached was the least expected. How did they manage to get fond of the very person they’ve sworn to defeat, whose affiliation stood in opposition to everything Villain stood for?Whose very existence was a hindrance to their goals.

This ends tonight, they vowed.

Even in their own mind, they sounded unconvinced.

Hero placed a hand on their cheek and brought their face to them again, “So what? Cuddles and a film?”

“I’d like that.”

Hero smiled at them and turned around to get off the bed. That was their chance. Swiftly, they slipped their hand under the pillow and brought out the knife. They took a swipe. This was it. The culmination of months of work, months of seducing and manipulation. Of lying and scheming.

The knife was mere inches from Hero’s back when something stopped them.

Not something, someone.

A hand encircled their wrist in a vice grip, squeezing so hard Villain was forced to let go off the knife.

“Oh darling,” Hero cooed, their voice lilting in that silky familiar way Villain loathed to love.

In one swift movement, Hero swiped the knife from the bed and buried it deep in Villain’s gut.

They let out a loud scream, curling in on the knife as pain shot through them. Hero was on top of them, just as they had an hour ago when they’d whispered filthy things and sweet nothings into Villain’s ear. Now they towered proud over Villain, face lit up in mocking amusement.

“You didn’t really think this would work, did you, love?”

Villain didn’t respond. They couldn’t. Pain like soundwaves pulsated from the stab wound and through their whole being, making it impossible to breathe, let alone talk. Their head spun, their eyes unable to focus on the figure above them.

How had Hero known? When could they ever realise? Villain was the living embodiment of stealth, the best spy among criminals. They were always discreet in their pursuits, always treading lightly while getting information from Hero, always having an alibi for when they sabotaged Agency’s missions. They thought they had Hero wrapped around their finger.

Apparently, their lover was playing a game of their own.

“You really thought I wouldn’t realise?” Hero’s face was adorned with a smirk, sharper and crueler than the one they had sent them mere minutes ago, when they had been only two lovers in bed and not deadly enemies, “Love, your reputation preceeds you. I, myself, dealt with the aftermath of your scheming plenty of times. I would never underestimate you.”

They twisted the knife, forcing a scream, much like the ones they brought out during their heated moments, out of Villain’s mouth. Tears streamed down the criminal’s face from the sharp pain. Simultaneously, Hero placed a kiss on their forehead.

“Though, I have to admit your act was very persuasive. I did catch myself at times forgetting what we had wasn’t real. You make such a good lover, darling,” they caressed Villain’s tear stained face.

“But, I could always see straight through you.”

They twisted the knife again. Villain’s vision went white for a second. They felt close to passing out.

Villain desperately tried to get their bearings under control, tried to reason with Hero, to get themself out of this wretched situation, but the only thing that came out of their mouth was, “H—, Hero, please—”

Hero stared at them with the same fiery expression they got during nights spend together. They put their hand over Villain’s throat, squeezing lightly, not cutting off their air ways but reminding them that they could.

“God, darling,” Hero muttered, “You know I can never refuse your begging.”

They leaned in, kissing them roughly. Villain kissed back, relaxing a little at the familiar sensation.

After a while, Hero slid off Villain once again, thankfully leaving the knife in, and tossed them their phone that laid on the nightstand.

“Call your Henchman, maybe they’ll be able to get to you in time,” Hero remarked. They leaned in one last time, whispering into Villain’s ear, “Never try to cross me again or I won’t be as forgiving, understood?” Villain gave a shaky nod, fumbling for their phone.

Hero walked away. Once at the door, they turned around and surveyed Villain one last time. Their mouth twisted in the smirk Villain knew all too well.

“You look hot covered in blood, you know? Maybe we should try knife play next time.”

—

The feeling of Henchman’s arms wrapping around Villain’s body startled them out of their memories.

“Hey, what’s up? You zoned out there for a bit.”

Villain still stood staring at the now empty rooftop. They opened their mouth to respond, but found themself at a loss for words. They didn’t know how to explain the scene they’d just saw, to articulate what even happened. It was ironic, really. They witnessed such scenes a hundred times. Felt it on their skin even more. Yet it was so disturbing, going back to that black hole of memories that was a testament to years of torture and bloodshed, and seeing it resurfaced in front of their very eyes.

Villain’s heart clenched, their breathing quickened as the familiar sting of panic brewed in their mind. They felt Henchman turning them around, putting their hands on their shoulders.

“Hey,” they said, concern painting their voice. They looked up, trying to catch Villain’s eyes, “what’s wrong?”

“I—,” they struggled to answer, feeling their throat closing. They finally managed to rasp, “I need a smoke.”

They hurried past Henchman and headed straight for the balcony, fumbling through their pockets for their cigarette packet and a lighter. Stepping through the door, they immediately lighted a cigarette and let the nicotine into their bloodstream, hoping its effects will keep the impending panic attack at bay. They leaned against the railing and closed their eyes, taking deep breaths in between the drags. Despite their best efforts, they couldn’t rid their mind of the image of Hero’s broken body laying at Superhero’s feet, just as it had so many times before. It was agonising to see them imprisoned to the cycle of abuse, having escaped it. Hero was still breathing the same stale air, while Villain was running with the wind.

They heard the balcony’s door open behind them and recognised the familiar heavy step of Henchman.

“Vil, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” they replied in a clipped tone.

“You’re doing it again,” Henchman pointed out as they went to stand beside their friend, “you’re closing off.”

Villain didn’t respond.

For a while, silence stretched between them, heavy and uncomfortable. Henchman clearly waited for Villain to fill it, but they only took another drag of their cigarette and stared into the night sky, their mind unable to focus on there and then.

After a few minutes Henchman relented and sighed, “You know you can tell me anything, right? You don’t have to hurt by yourself.” They slowly put their hand on Villian’s shoulder, trying not to startle them. Their friend flinched only slightly.

“You are not alone.”

Villian bowed their head and let the tears burning in their eyes fall as they slumped on one of two chairs in the corner of the balcony. They put out their cigarette in the ashtray laying on the small table in between them. Henchman sat down on the other chair, waiting for their friend to speak.

“I saw Superhero on that rooftop,” Villain muttered and inclined their head in the direction of the roof.

Henchman clearly did not expect such answer. Their face fell, eyes widening, “Oh fuck.”

The choice of words perfectly summed up the situation.

“Yeah, oh fuck,” Villain sighed and ran a hand down their face, “but that is not even the worst part. The worst part is that they weren’t alone.”

Henchman’s brows furrowed. They tilted their head, urging them to continue.

Villian’s throat constricted as they thought back to Hero’s resigned expression as they were hauled to their feet and whisked away by Superhero. How utterly defeated they looked.

They lighted another cigarette.

“Hero was with them and… Hench it was bad. They looked like a wreck of a person. Superhero beat them up then dragged them to their car, and I know Superhero’s rage when I see it, they’re not going to stop at the beating alone. And Hero could barely fucking stand.”

“Sadistic fuck,” Henchman hissed angrily, their face tighted in concern. They managed to catch Villain’s gaze, and squeezed their hand in reassurance, “I get why it set you off. God, I wished we could help them.”

“I feel so utterly fucking helpless. Nothing I do gets through to them and I’m left to watch them get destroyed until I find an obituary for them. Maybe if I haven’t left, they woul—“

“Stop,” Henchman interrupted them, their tone firm but not angry, “don’t even go there. Leaving was the best thing you could do for yourself. Nothing good would come from you getting abused alongside them. You’ve tried your best to help them, but you can’t save someone if they don’t want to be saved.”

Villain gave the slightest of nods, not entirely convinced of Henchman’s words. If they were still with Hero, they could take half their burden, be a shoulder for them to lean on, to cry on. They could patch up every injury, like they had used to, whispering words of comfort. But they weren’t there, and Hero was left to suffer completely and utterly alone.

Henchman leaned forward, embracing Villain in a much needed hug, “I promise you, we will find a way to get them out of that wretched mess. I know we will.”

And Villain hoped they were right. Hero was close to finally buckling under weight, and Villain wasn’t ready to loose them again.

—

Hero was pushed into the same room in which hours ago twenty red lines where etched into their skin. Their head was spinning as they tried desperately to find their footing and ultimately lost the battle with gravity, crumpling to the ground. They made no attempt to get up, all of their energy was long gone. They wished to stay like this forever, lying on the dingy floor of the basement unit, cold tiles soothing their sore muscles. They could feel their undershirt sticking to their aggravated wounds, and could not even think about how painful it would be to remove. They could hear Superhero move around the room, shuffling through the supplies, which, even if by all appearances thoroughly clean, were stained with their blood forever. They couldn’t bring themself to care about the impending session or about the method of their punishment. They just quietly waited and hoped to pass out soon.

“Get up,” Superhero’s sharp tone cut through them like a knife. The order might have just been the most daunting of all they had ever received. They slowly moved their limbs, trying to get them under themself. Apparently, their speed was not up to Superhero’s liking and they felt a hand on the back of their neck, pulling them up.

“Fucking useless,” they heard Superhero mutter as they were put in front of a basin of water. Hero’s heart clenched in panic, already feeling the phantom pain of suffocating. Their breath quickened, fight-or-flight kicking in and making their dazed mind clearer. They hadn’t drowned for months.

The worst method and their greatest fear.

They had thoroughly screwed up.

“You know how it goes, five rounds, two minutes,” Superhero stated, their tone cold with an undertone of rage that made Hero shiver. Their hand still wrapped around the back of their protégé’s neck. They crouched behind Hero and hissed in their ear, “and if you pass out, we’ll need to repeat this tomorrow.”

Then, they pushed Hero’s head into the water.

Unprepared, Hero let the water rush to their lungs right away. Their mind went into full-blown panic. Immediately, they started trashing, fighting desperately for oxygen, but their head stayed firmly under. Their limbs flailed uselessly around them as their mind screamed.

I can’t breathe.

I can’t breathe.

I can’t breathe.

As more and more water entered their system, their vision began darkening at the edges, their body going limp. Hero crawled to the painless oblivion, their body desperate for any sort of relief.

But it was stolen right from under their nose.

They were hauled out, consciousness returning in an instant as they coughed and sputtered, throwing up water. They trembled, gasping for breath in between coughs. The room started to spin again, going in and out of focus. Their eyes landed on the water, tinged with pink from the blood and they recoiled. They thought they would rather die than go through this again.

Their head went under again.

They fell unconscious after the third round.

Part 3

Hero used to be that magnet for Villain. They used to be the one Villain searched for in a room full of people. There used to be a chain linking them, built of tender memories of quiet nights spent together and secrets shared under the moonlight, exchanged words of comfort, matching scars from injuries they helped each other patch up, and knowledge that no matter where they were, they remained each other’s missing part. Hero had hoped it would stay like this forever. But even the most beautiful chain is still a chain.

And Villain had never liked to be tied down.

Hero wanted to hate them for leaving. They should hate them. Villain betrayed not only them, but also Superhero, when they fled the Agency’s headquarters three years ago. Their loyalty should condemn such action. But Hero could not bring themself to hold any ill feelings for Villain, when they shone so bright amid their newfound family. They could see the difference in their posture, how they held themself slightly higher, more self-assured. How their eyes had this sharp glint Hero hadn’t seen since they were kids, before they’d gone to chase their dreams. How they began to express their emotions more freely, still with slight apprehension, but they were trying. Hero had never seen them so happy before.

Hero felt a sharp sting in their heart, a mix of grief, nostalgia and jealousy. It hurt, seeing Villain so content without them. To see they could never be enough for them. It hurt more than the fresh whip marks crisscrossing Hero’s back.

They were about to stand up and head back to the headquarters before their curfew was up, when they heard a familiar voice and their body went rigid.

“So this is where you wander off in your free time,” Superhero’s tone was condescending, as if scolding a little child for running off too far away. They came to stand behind their protégé and put a hand on their back, pressing against a particularly deep whip mark, and eliciting a sharp hiss from them.

Hero’s mind was sent into panic. They tried to spin some sort of excuse that this was just surveillance or that they were staking the place to try and catch Villain off guard but Superhero interrupted their train of thought.

“Think very carefully about what you’re going to say because I don’t think your body can also take punishment for lying.”

Hero felt tears burn in their eyes as they said two, most useless words, “I’m sorry.”

Superhero let out humourless laughter and closed their palm over Hero’s shoulder. Suddenly, Hero found themself flung into a wall, their back errupting in a cacophony of pain.

“What do you think you’re doing here, huh?” spat Superhero. They tugged harshly at Hero’s hair, tilting their head towards them.

“I- I- I’m so- sorry,” Hero stuttered, trying to focus on Superhero’s face, but their head was dazed from the impact.

“Apologies are only genuine if you act up on them. And you, Hero, have been fucking up a lot lately,” they pulled their protégé from the wall and then slammed them back. Hero let out a groan and felt warm blood trickle down their back as the wounds reopened.

“I’m sorry, I was just watching them. I didn’t talk to them or anything.”

“And why would you want to watch them eat a fucking birthday cake?”

Hero opened their mouth and closed it again after a moment. They knew that the severity of their forthcoming punishment depended on their answer. Telling the truth was going to end in a plethora of pain, yet punishment for lying was going to be twice as much. They doubted their body could go through three “correcting sessions” in one day. They took a deep breath, wincing as the act sparked pain from their aggravated back.

“I… I just…” tentatively, Hero spoke, their voice just above the whisper. They avoided Superhero’s stare, “I just missed them.”

All of a sudden, a punch came and knocked Hero to the ground. They whimpered, struggling back to their feet, but their head was spinning violently and limbs kept going out from under them.

“You missed a traitor?” snapped Superhero as they delivered a sharp kick in Hero’s side and slammed them back to the ground. Their anger was like a vicious tempest raging all around Hero. “Did you forget what they did to me? To us?“

Hero shook their head, unable to form a response. It was getting harder and harder to breathe, panic constricting their throat.

Superhero scoffed at the pathetic form at their feet. They bent over and hauled Hero up by their hair. Hero cried out, black spots dancing in their eyes.

“I think you need a reminder of what happens to people who affiliate themselves with traitors. We are gonna get rid of that pesky attachment of yours.”

Hero wanted to say that they didn’t affiliate themself with Villian, that they were just watching. They doubted the criminal would even want to have anything to do with them anymore. Yet they found themself unable to put together a sentence, bone-deep exhaustion settling in their body. They doubted they would withstand the session, they felt close to passing out right then. Few more strikes were going to sent them into oblivion. They let themself be dragged by Superhero from the rooftop and into their car.

They were utterly oblivious to Villain standing at their window, watching them.

Part 2

Villain knew they should help Hero. Hell, they tried to convince their stubborn mind to do that every five minutes of the fight. Every blow Hero was forced to take sent a sharp sting of guilt through Villain’s heart, because they knew it should have been them facing Supervillain right then, they should be the one who was flung into the walls and slashed with throwing knives. Hero was fighting Villain’s battles, suffering for their betrayal, all because of Villain’s cowardice. Hero scolded them for using that word earlier, but how else should they call this insurmountable fear that flooded them at the merest thought of facing their former boss’s wrath that was all caused by them.

They were the one who walked out on Supervillain, bloodied and broken, and sought comfort in the arms of their enemy. Spilled all their secrets, plotted against them, and were the main cause of multiple of their operations failing. They should be the one to be punished for it. Supervillain called Villain to a fight after all, threatening to kill hostages he’d captured otherwise, and threatening to kill anyone else who came to fight them. But they didn’t show up. They couldn’t will themself when their barely pieced together mind threatened to shatter at the slightest push from Supervillain, irreparably this time.

Supervillain was right all along; they were weak.

A scream tore them from their thoughts, and they cursed themself for getting distracted as they tried to locate Hero. They were not that far, laying on the edge of the town square, right next to the building which rooftop Villain was occupying. They looked awful, there were deep slashes on their sides, hips and even one on their cheek from barely dodged throwing knives, bruises covered their face, but the worst part, the injury that was probably the cause of the scream was the horribly broken leg, bone picking out of the skin and muscle. Villain stomach turned and they swallowed hard to stop themself from throwing up. This was all their fault. So many lives were going to be lost and for what? Them? As if they were worth even the time Hero took to patch them up that dreadful night. They should’ve just stay with Supervillain and endure the punishment for the failure they were to everyone.

Unable to look at the Hero any longer, they looked away, they found Supervillain slowly stalking towards the fallen Hero, their gait casual, as if they were taking a stroll in the park and not walking up to their enemy to brutally murder them. Villain’s heart stopped as they spotted a silver dagger, the sharpest one of theirs, the one they felt on their skin plenty of times, in Supervillain’s hand.

“You’ve put up quite the fight, dear Hero.” Supervillain mused as they came up to crime fighter’s side and crouched. They pressed their finger to a deep gash on Hero’s left side and relished in the scream they let out “but alas our time together has come to an end”

Hero took a moment to take some breaths, though it was clear they were struggling. Their ribs were most definitely broken. They managed to grit out, “Fuck you.”

The criminal let out a small laugh and carded their fingers through Hero’s blood stained hair. “What an eloquent response. Do you really want this statement to be your last words?”

Hero tried to bat their hand away but Supervillain caught their wrist and twisted sharply, breaking the bone. Hero let out a shrill scream, trying futilely to get their wrist out of the criminal’s hold. Supervillain looked at them with mock condescension in their eyes, as if they were a child breaking a rule, but nonetheless indulged them and released Hero’s wrist. It took Hero few minutes to compose themself to some degree before they looked straight into the criminal’s eyes and they spat.

“If you don’t like it, how about this one? I hope you rot in the deepest pits of hell for everything you did to Villian, you abusive motherfucke-”

Another insult, another scream from Hero as Supervillain nudged their terribly broken leg.

“Speaking of Villain, where is that treacherous coward?”

“As far away from you as possible,” Hero muttered, but their strength was waning and their eyes fluttered closed from exhaustion.

But Villain was right there, paralysed by fear and unable to help their friend. Their friend who didn’t ask any questions when they showed up in the middle of the night in their house, who dressed all of their wounds with utmost care, who let them stay in their house and treated them with kindness and compassion, who was there for every nightmare, every panic attack, every setback in the recovery. They were standing there and watching the first person who showed them compassion in a very long time get killed in their place.

“They really let you came here all alone to fight me instead of doing it themself? And I thought they couldn’t be more pathetic, full of surprises that one” Supervillain derisive laughter sent shivers down Villain’s spine “Anyhow, I suppose you and the hostages are gonna have to be enough to appease me till I find them. Six lives lost over this one coward…”

Supervillain slowly put the dagger to Hero’s chest and Villain’s heart stopped. They imagined their own death so much they could practically see themself laying in Hero’s place, broken and mangled next to Supervillain. It should be them laying there, yet it wasn’t. It was Hero, seconds away from having the dagger, which shed so much of Villain’s blood, plunged through their chest. The realisation, that Hero was moment away from crossing the line between here and no more, that Villain would loose them without even trying to save them was the needle that finally pierced through the bubble of panic surrounding them.

“Wait!” Villain screamed at the top of their lungs as they came to the edge of the rooftop.

Supervillain turned around and the corners of their mouth twisted upwards into a cruel smile “Look who graced us with their presence at last.”

Hero’s eyes flung open at the sound of Villain’s voice and, as they noticed Villain climbing down from the rooftop, they screamed “Villain! What are you doing? Get the hell out of her-”

Supervillain silenced them by putting pressure on the dagger at their chest, piercing their suit. When Villain’s feet finally touched the ground, they were met with Supervillain’s unforgiving stare.

“Hello, Villain. Finally owning up to your mistakes? Well, I’m afraid it might be too late for that” Supervillain said and began turning around to Hero.

“Please, wait! Don’t kill them!” Villain pleaded desperately, coming closer to them both. Supervillain’s hand moved and the dagger slashed the middle of Hero’s chest. Hero let out a pained groan.

“Stay where you are if you don’t want my hand slipping again”

Villain immediately stopped in their tracks.

“That’s better now, isn’t it?” Supervillain asked in their lilting tone “Now, why should I honor the wish of a traitor?”

Villain wasn’t stupid. Sure, they were a coward, but they weren’t an idiot. They knew that Supervillain wouldn’t spare Hero’s life without incentive, and they knew which incentive they were expecting. Their heart hammered in their chest, their throat threatening to close as they bit out these few, painfully small yet life damning words.

“I’ll come back to you if you let them go.”

“Villain! Don’t you dare do this!” It was obvious Hero tried to scream, but their energy was slipping away and so their voice was more strained than loud. It broke Villain’s heart to see their beloved Hero reduced to being so helpless.

“Will you now? How are you so sure I still want you?”

“I know you don’t want me to work for you” Villain stated, trying to keep their voice steady, “but you do want to make me suffer”

“And why can’t I just kill them and take you by force?”

Villain’s breath caught in their throat. Their eyes met Hero’s and found them pleading for Villain to just run away. To leave them at Supervillain’s mercy. And as much as Villain wanted to do that, they couldn’t leave Hero now. They could be brave for once in their life if it meant saving Hero’s life. Their eyes flicked back to Supervillain.

“Supervillain, please, I’m begging you.”

Supervillain’s mouth twisted into a smirk as they tilted their head, “Are you?”

Villain took a deep breath, ears burning in humiliation at the thought of grovelling at Supervillain’s feet in front of Hero, but nonetheless they slowly lowered themself to their knees. Supervillain gleamed at that and stood up before slowly walking up to Villain. With every step of theirs, Villain’s tenuous hold on their fear began slipping, and by the time Supervillain hooked a finger under their chin, bringing their eyes to meet theirs, they were paralysed by fear.

“If you want me to take you back in exchange for their life, beg me for forgiveness.”

Tears burned in Villain’s eyes as they looked up at Supervillain, memories of pain, humiliation, and constant confusion at how quickly love could be given and taken away and replaced by ruthless cruelty, flashed before their eyes. And even though they knew they deserved nothing less for their cowardice today, the words barely made their way through their throat.

“Sir, please, I’m begging you for forgiveness.”

Satisfied grin split Supervillain’s face, their sharp canine teeth gleaming white, as they crouched in front of Villain, and leaned forward, their faces inches away, “Very well, you haven’t forgotten everything after all. I can’t forgive you yet, but we can work on that, can’t we?”

Villain hung their head low and let the tears flow as Supervillain stood up and rounded them, cuffing their hands behind their back and hauling them to their feet, then leading them out of the town square. At last, they caught Hero’s eyes yet again and found them watching, mortified. Tears streamed down Hero’s face, making tracks in the blood and dirt. And as villain took in their figure, broken and bloody, laying on the ground, they realised that this sight might just be the biggest of their failures.