Orphan

“You must let me show you where you’ll be staying, Hero,” said Supervillain, releasing the chains on Hero’s cuffs and stepping back away from them. Hero narrowed their eyes into a glare, keeping their hands close to their chest as they blinked at Supervillain.

“What do you mean, where I’ll be staying?” They snapped. Supervillain tilted his head as he regarded Hero, a small smile on his lips.

He shrugged. A gesture that should have conveyed a casual thing, but Hero saw right through it. “You can stay in the cellar if you like, though I’d say a bed would be far more comfortable.”

“I’d rather you let me go, or keep our contact to a minimum,” Hero told him. What the hell was he talking about, keeping Hero here? Forcing them to stay? They couldn’t… their brain wouldn’t let them comprehend exactly what this meant. The words just kept repeating in their mind drowning out all sense and reason:

Where you’ll be staying…

Supervillain had planned this, every detail, and Hero didn’t notice. They didn’t know, they didn’t see. Supervillain didn’t let a hint slip about this! Taking Hero captive and not letting them go, and it – though Hero would never admit it – it terrified them.

What if they weren’t as good as a detective as they thought they were? What if… Hero’s eyes studied Supervillain’s face. What if they had only seen what Supervillain wanted them to see?

Supervillain hummed thoughtfully, hands going behind his back. “I’ll show you the room anyways. Give you the tour while we’re at it. We’ll see if you have a change of heart.”

Hero’s nostrils flared as Supervillain turned his back and opened the door Hero initially came through. Supervillain’s knowing smirk remained on his face as he glanced back at Hero. “Come along now, I’m not a patient man.”

“I’d rather stay right here,” Hero told him, voice low. A pathetic attempt at stubbornness. Supervillain inclined his head.

“You can walk out the door, Hero, or be dragged out. Either way, you won’t be staying here. Would you like to keep your dignity intact?” He asked, his tone light and charismatic, his words anything but. Hero hated the way he spoke as if everything was certain. As if he could control everything and it would all work out his way.

Though what Hero hated more was the fact that they knew it was better to comply than to rile him up, so they stood and walked through the door Supervillain held open. They turned their head, looking down the long hallway to their right, where Flynn and Villain were. The door at the end of the hall must be where the kitchen is, but beyond that Hero didn’t know.

Maybe it would be better to know the layout of the house, Hero mused, they could plan their escape more effectively if Supervillain was stupid enough to offer a tour.  Supervillain, instead of turning towards the kitchen, went left, back the way Hero and Flynn came, back towards the cellar.

Hero followed Supervillain cautiously, one eye tracking his figure, the other careful to take note of the layout and the route back to the kitchen if they needed to flee on short notice.

Flee to who? To Flynn? A nasty voice mocked in their head.

At least I know what to expect with Flynn, Hero argued back.

Oh yeah… like how you knew he was a lying, backstabbing villain all this time right?

Hero bit the inside of their cheek instead of fighting with their smug, know-it-all side of their brain. At least when they tasted blood in their mouth, they could justify the pain. They could take their mind off of Flynn and the ache in their chest that they fought so hard to ignore.

Hero’s eyes zeroed in on the door to the basement as they stepped into another hallway. They were half expecting Supervillain to open it and shove them down the stairs before laughing like a cartoon villain and slamming the cellar door closed.

Instead, Supervillain walked past it, and Hero followed mutely, swallowing as they passed the cellar door. Now that it was so close, Hero really didn’t feel like going back there. Back to the cold and defenceless cot in a cell where any of them could come down and gloat.

Where Villain could come back and hurt them again and nobody would stop them.

Maybe a room would be better. At least Hero could barricade the door and break the window or something. They could have a better defensive position. Not be subject to their hosts moods when it takes them. Their nose throbbed at the thought of Villain coming down to their cell again and they shuddered.

Supervillain continued down the hall to another heavy door that looked solid and stiff. There was something strange about it, something Hero only noticed after Supervillain stopped in front of it and raised his hand to a keypad on the wall.

Hero stopped in their tracks. They didn’t want to swap one cell for another, and this one didn’t look as escapable as the cell in the basement. At least there Hero could see out all around them, except for the back wall, but a heavy metal door with an electronic lock would prove far more difficult.

There was a small beep ahead and Supervillain glanced back at Hero over his shoulder. A sly smirk graced his face when he noticed that Hero had stopped following altogether, probably standing six feet back.

“Oh Hero, that’s adorable. Are you frightened?”

“No,” Hero said a little too quickly. A denial. They both knew it. While Supervillain chuckled lightly, Hero wanted to punch themselves. “Where are we going?”

Supervillain’s smile was friendly and carnivorous all at once. “I told you; I’m giving you the tour of the house. Here,” Supervillain said, holding the door open for Hero and gesturing for Hero to walk in first. Hero’s throat went impossibly dry, as if Hero inhaled a pound of sawdust. They swallowed to try and restore some moisture in their mouth because what else could they do?

If they refused to comply, Supervillain would just drag them along anyway and there was no way they could fight back with their powers dampened and their hands cuffed in front of them. The weight of their blades on their back felt heavy in a way they never were before. They were right there… if only they could reach them.

Hero jutted their chin up, steeling their expression as they stormed forward and passed Supervillain, vowing that the moment they got free they would commission thigh braces for their daggers instead. That way they could never be in a humiliating situation like this again.

The room coming into focus drowned out Hero’s plans for new sheaths. Once inside the keypad locked room they stopped short and just stared. It was like the meeting room in the Hero headquarters, except, well… bigger. It was shaped like a hexagon with a domed ceiling that came to a point to let in some light through three skylight windows. The wall in front of Hero had two screens imbedded into it. One played the news on mute that was reporting some local event.

The two walls beside the back one had doors that led off to God knows where, but Hero’s gaze skimmed over them, and went instead to the corkboard on the wall to the left. Pictures of all the top ranked Heroes faces were pinned to the board; Superhero’s, Other Hero’s, and Hero’s were pinned to it. Tears pricked the back of Hero’s eyes when they saw Sidekick’s photo pinned to the wall too, a big red X painted over their face. Hero’s hands shook slightly at the sight… they should have never left Sidekick’s side. They should be at the hospital right now.

Instead, they were knee deep in enemy territory, on a tour of Supervillain’s house. Hero had to pull their gaze away from Sidekick’s face, to study the rest of the room, screwing their lips up tight to try and stop them from trembling.

Hero’s gaze dropped to a desk below the corkboard, where a hero scanner and comms sat, both of them were switched off for now. One Flynn must have stolen… been given. Hero’s hands tightened into fists at the sight. All this time… all this time Flynn was betraying them, betraying the Heroes and he had the nerve to be upset that Hero hated him?

Hero’s gaze flicked back up to Sidekick’s face again and they quickly turned away, looking instead to the giant circular table that dominated the middle of the room. A map of the city was printed on top of it. Hero recognised some of the marks that divided some of the city up. Territories that were occupied or controlled by different groups. Some good, some bad.

Hero stepped closer to the map table, noticing the chess pieces that were spread across it. There was a cluster of white on Hero HQ; the King, two knights, a bishop, a rook, but some other white pieces were dotted throughout the map. There were no black pieces, something Supervillain removed no doubt before Hero walked in. They couldn’t give away all their secrets.

Hero searched the table, making note of the pieces, trying to figure out who they were. A pawn was placed on top of central hospital which made Hero feel sick. They felt Supervillain step up beside them, but Hero didn’t bother to look at him.

“Should I take your silence as a good thing?”

“You can take my silence however you want,” Hero replied. Supervillain hummed beside them. He reached forward and plucked the pawn from the hospital and ran it between his fingers.

“Mmmm, does it have something to do with this?” Hero looked away from the map, lifting their head to stare at the news instead. Supervillain continued undeterred. “It is unfortunate what happened to Sidekick.”

“Don’t talk about them,” Hero snapped.

“What had to happen to them. They were interfering. Hot on Flynn’s scent, we had to dispose of—”

“Shut up,” Hero snarled, whipping their head to Supervillain, and stepping back away from him. “Stop fucking explaining everything you’re doing, or have done, to me like I want to hear your excuses!”

Supervillain cocked a brow at Hero’s outburst. He put the pawn back on top of the hospital, not taking his eyes off of Hero as he did. Hero searched Supervillain’s face, reading it for what he was thinking, and they didn’t like what they found. Realising their mistake too late they took a step back, trying to put some more space between them. Once they could put their weight on their back foot they could kick at Supervillain if he came at them.

Instead, Supervillain clasped his hands behind his back, chewing on words, looking for the best ones before he spoke. Everything was so measured. So controlled. It put Hero off, as if Supervillain was more machine than human.

His gaze wandered to the map, eyes running over everything with a critical eye. “Did you notice anything about the map?”

Hero frowned at the question, their attention turning back to the map as Supervillain walked around the table, stopping directly opposite Hero. They did a quick scan of it, their eyebrows knitting together. Did they miss something? No, they didn’t. The heroes know about the different territories. Maybe Supervillain giving away what heroes they thought were important with the chess pieces but other than that…

Hero’s eyes were drawn to the chess pieces, to the Hero HQ. King, two knights, a bishop, a rook. They saw the other rook and bishop somewhere else, but when they scanned the map again Hero realised what Supervillain was alluding to.

Hero hardened their gaze. “There’s no queen.”

“Very good,” Supervillain praised, and it felt like cockroaches crawled down the back of Hero’s neck. “The queen was far too meddlesome for my liking. Your perfect Sidekick you’ll note is still on the board, that was intentional.”

Hero raised their eyebrows at Supervillain in silent question and froze at his expression. There was no hint of anything human left in him, it was as Hero had imagined Supervillain to look like. Devoid of emotion and yet alive with a vibrant authority that made Hero want to hide away, to cower from — as if Hero was looking directly into the sun, eyes burning but they couldn’t look away.

“An incentive for you, Hero,” he said, his lips twitching up into a cold mockery of a smile. “A gift while you’re here, to make sure you follow the rules.”

Hero recoiled back a step, horror painting their features, as if Supervillain had killed a puppy in front of them and punched them at the same time instead of spoke.

“As long as you behave, well,” Supervillain continued, sea-green eyes drifting down to the pawn over central hospital. Hero’s heart thrummed in their chest and seemed to stop at Supervillain’s next words. “Let’s just say, Sidekick can remain on the board.”

Hero let out a shaky breath that was trapped in their chest, shaking their head. The chain between their cuffs rattled as their hands shook, tears pricking the back of their eyes as their gaze turned accusing and filled with a helpless-fuelled hatred.

“You— you’re threatening Sidekick’s life if I don’t do as you say?!” Hero demanded, voice teetering on the edge of hysterical.

Supervillain tilted his head, as if trying to understand Hero’s emotional response.

“I told you, Hero,” Supervillain began, walking around the table back towards Hero who was too focused on the pawn over the hospital. “We can be civil, this can be a beneficial relationship for us both. I can have you far away from the city, where I know you can’t interfere in the next stage of my plans, and you can rest easy knowing you’re saving Sidekick’s life.”

It was as if the world crumbled underneath Hero’s feet. They wanted nothing more than to collapse there and then, their body flooding with adrenaline as the weight of Supervillain’s words hit them.

It was all too much.

It all felt like too much.

Hero wanted to scream and cry, and punch something— no they wanted to punch Supervillain and Flynn because…

Hero flinched as a comforting hand came down on their shoulder, eyes widening slightly because when did Supervillain get that close.

“It’s a win-win, Hero.” Hero shrugged his hand off their shoulder and stepped back. Wet eyes filled with unshed tears met Supervillain’s sea-green eyes with a helpless kind of hatred. He smiled politely. “You’ll see,” he promised, “in time.”

Hero half expected Supervillain to gloat further, or press Hero on why they were nearly crying, maybe even be cruel and make fun of them. Supervillain walked passed Hero to the door that opened with a beep. Hero followed him with their eyes, biting the inside of their cheek and re-opening the wound.

“Let’s continue the tour, now that we have the unpleasantries out of the way.”

Hero stared at Supervillain, blinked and took a breath and started walking out the door without being prompted this time. They could feel Supervillain’s hungry gaze following them as they submitted compliantly, but what else was there to do? Now that he had threatened Sidekick, who was already in critical condition.

They wanted to be sick. After everything, Sidekick was only in hospital because Supervillain wanted to get to them. They wanted Flynn and Villain to capture Hero and bring them back here, where they— Hero swallowed the sob that threatened to climb their throat — where they would be… staying. Until Supervillain says otherwise.

It all felt so final, so formal, so decided when Hero didn’t make a decision. Supervillain was in control, that’s why he wanted to give Hero the “tour.” Not to show Hero around and let them see all the exits and escape routes, no. He wanted Hero to know that even if Hero knew the way out, even if they knew what doors would be locked and where the keys were, even if escape was within their reach — it didn’t matter.

They couldn’t leave.

If they left, Sidekick would be killed and it would be all their fault.

Again.

“Ah, Flynn,” Supervillain said behind Hero. Hero pulled themselves from their thoughts, raising their eyes to see Flynn standing at the corner between the cellar hall and hall that led to the dining room. He looked worried, his eyes not leaving Hero, who couldn’t quite meet his gaze. “Perhaps you’d like to show Hero to their room?”

Hero felt Flynn’s eyes on them, searching their face, imploring them to look at Flynn but they couldn’t. Their stomach was flopping like a fish out of water, threatening to throw their dinner up any moment.

“Uh, yes. I will, thanks.”

“No problem,” Supervillain replied, mirthful as he strode past Hero and down the hall towards Flynn. He clapped a hand on Flynn’s shoulder as he passed and shot one last look over his shoulder at Hero. Hero met his gaze once, fleetingly, then turned their head away again.

Flynn was the first to move, walking closer to Hero who stood like a kicked puppy in the middle of the hall. When Supervillain turned the corner he smiled a satisfied smile to himself.

It was so easy to get Hero’s defence to crumble, and now that Hero wasn’t a threat to his plans, well… the city was about to change.

Whether it wanted to or not.

*~*~*~*~*

They walked in a tense silence that made Hero squirm. The two of them were always chatting, or having banter back and forth. When they fell into a silence it was an easy one that never felt awkward or uncomfortable. Now, with Flynn marching Hero up a set of stairs, it felt as if they were two strangers. As if Flynn was actually a Villain.

He is, a voice sniped in the back of Hero’s mind. Flynn is a villain. The lie was his Hero façade.

Hero kept their guard up as they stepped through the door at the top of the stairs. Hero expected to be greeted with the view of a warehouse, or some top secret villain base. Maybe something from the movies, or an equal to the Hero tower HQ.

Instead, their gaze found a house. Hero frowned, wanting to turn their head and comment on it to Flynn but they didn’t. They refused. Flynn didn’t deserve their comments or thoughts on anything anymore.

“Through here,” said Flynn, pulling Hero to the right. Hero caught only a glance of the framed pictures hanging on the wall, of Flynn and Villain as children and a man and woman smiling in the picture above them. Hero swallowed.

Were they in Flynn’s childhood home this entire time?

It’s not what Hero expected at all. It was clean, almost pristinely so with wooden oak floors and a warm, homely feel to it. Clean and yet lived in.

Hero closed their lips, and just let Flynn guide them through another door into a dining room. Hero’s brows raised to the ceiling, looking at Flynn in question before they could help it.

Flynn curled his top lip inward, his tell for when he was embarrassed. “Supervillain insisted,” he said by way of explanation and brought Hero to the end of the table. It sat six people, two chairs on each end and two on both sides.

Flynn pulled out Hero’s chair and quirked his lips at them. “Can I trust you not to do something stupid?”

“You can always stop me if I do,” Hero replied sweetly, sugared smile not quite meeting their eyes.

Flynn’s smile was cold in return. “I can. Or Villain, whichever is quicker.”

Hero felt that cruel pang of betrayal bloom in their heart like a rose’s thorns wrapped thick around it. Hero didn’t reply to that, they just sat down on the chair lifting their handcuffed hands onto the wooden table and let Flynn push in their chair.

Flynn sat beside them, on their right. Hero could have laughed at the horribleness of it all. Flynn sat on Hero’s right because after endless sparring they had both realised it was Hero’s weaker hand. If Hero was going to do something stupid, going for their right hand side would be easier to subdue than their left.

How had they not seen the warning signs? How had they not realised that Flynn was working against them this entire time?

Hero trusted them. They thought if the world ever went to shit, or turned against them, Hero could turn to Flynn and still find a home in him.

Now all their trust was twisted against them mercilessly, and Flynn was a stranger who could smile at them with a bloodied face — and possibly broken nose — and threaten to have the person who broke it hurt them more.

Hero heard movement and voices behind the two doors in front of them, different than the door that Flynn and Hero entered the room through. There was a lively bustling of movement and then a man in his late thirties, early forties walked through the doors with a wide friendly smile holding two plates of something.

He had wavy brown hair, slightly overgrown around the edges, some strands tucked behind his ears Hero noticed. His eyes were sea-coloured, somewhere between green and blue, but shining with a happiness that Hero didn’t expect of Supervillain.

Then it hit Hero that they were staring at Supervillain. The Supervillain! Hero’s nemesis, their foe— the man who was always one step ahead of Hero. Hero glanced at Flynn, almost mutinously before Supervillain drew Hero’s attention back to them.

Supervillain set a plate of food in front of Hero with a big smile, then walked around Hero and placed one in front of Flynn. It was what looked like roast chicken and green beans and roast potatoes. Hero stared down at it, their mouth watering slightly and a gnawing yearning in their gut for food.

How long had they been here? Overnight at least because it was day time at the moment. Hero looked at Flynn. Flynn glanced at Hero then to Hero’s plate and dragged it over to him.

“Hey—”

“Relax, I’m just cutting up your chicken. You’re not getting a knife.”

Hero waited, watching Flynn cut up the food. Then they sat back against their chair, eyes going to the doors to see Supervillain was gone. Flynn pushed Hero’s plate back in front of them. Then Supervillain came through again followed closely by Villain, a shadow like fist holding something that was dropped in front of Hero. It smacked against the table lightly with a bounce and Hero realised it was a plastic fork.

Everyone else had proper utensils.

Hero waited until Supervillain and Villain sat down before speaking. “If you think I’m eating this, you’re dumber than I thought.”

Supervillain’s smile didn’t dim. “As you like it, Hero. Though, if I drugged you with the chicken or the vegetables I would have drugged us all.”

Hero didn’t move to grab the fork, no matter how much their stomach wanted them to. Flynn grabbed Hero’s plate, “we can swap if you like.”

Hero’s head snapped to him. “And how do I know this wasn’t all some planned ploy?”

“You don’t,” said Flynn honestly, meeting Hero’s gaze earnestly. Hero had to look away before they cried. Stupid fucking Flynn.

“If I may,” said Supervillain, his voice smooth and steady, drawing Hero’s gaze. “If I wanted to starve you, I wouldn’t have plated you up a meal. I would have handcuffed you to the chair and let you smell the food and watch us eat.”

Hero swallowed, gaze hardening into a glare as Supervillain tilted his head and shrugged lightly. “However, if you don’t want to eat I won’t force you.”

Hero sat back stubbornly, eyes not leaving Supervillain as he tucked into his divine smelling meal.

“Flynn said you wanted to talk to me.”

“I do,” Supervillain replied. “As soon as we have eaten. It’s bad for the stomach to mix work and pleasure.”

Hero blinked at him, then stared back at their plate. The steam was still rising from it, begging for Hero to eat it. Hero swallowed again, finally reaching for the fork that was discarded in front of their plate.

Nobody at the table made any remarks as Hero took their first bite of chicken. They didn’t even feel eyes on them as they ate, and with every bite the possibility of the food being drugged became less and less important as they filled the hole in their stomach.

All too soon their plate was empty and Hero set their fork back on the plate, sitting back in their seat, satisfied. Supervillain smiled at them from across the table.

“Well?”

Hero swallowed. “Really good.”

Supervillain’s smile beamed at them. “Good. Flynn, would you and Villain mind cleaning up?”

Flynn’s eyes went between Hero and Supervillain, and he opened his mouth to protest, but Supervillain looked at him. It stifled the words in his throat and he nodded and gathered his and Hero’s plate. “Sure.”

Villain did the same with their and Supervillain’s plate. “Thank you. We shouldn’t be long.”

Flynn cast one last look over his shoulder at Hero, eyebrows drawing together in a frown. Then the double doors shut on both of them and it was just Hero and Supervillain alone.

Hero’s chest got tighter at the realisation. How many times had they longed to get to sit down with Supervillain and pick his brain on his strategies and plans? How long had they wanted to know his motivations behind it all? What the bigger picture was…

Now, Hero wanted to be anywhere but here.

Supervillain leaned forward, elbows resting on the table hands folded in front of him. “Flynn tells me you’re a fan of mine.”

Hero scoffed and looked away. “I’d hardly call myself a fan.”

“Of course,” he replied pleasantly. “A hero would never admire a villain after all.”

“That’s in the job description.”

“Tell me, did you ever admire Flynn?”

Hero’s eyes snapped back to Supervillain. His smile was less pleasant now, more shrewd. Intelligent, inquisitive, intimidating— his eyes narrowed in curiosity, the corners of his lips still quirked into a smile.

“I guess it doesn’t matter anymore, does it? He was always a Villain.”

“Yes. However, that is not what I asked you.” Hero swallowed in reply. “Did you ever admire Flynn?”

“Yes,” said Hero patiently. They couldn’t lose their cool now, they had to match Supervillain’s relaxed demeanour. “He was my partner. Obviously I admired him.”

Supervillain let out a breath. “Tut, tut, Hero. He’s a villain. How can a Hero ever admire a Villain?”

“If you want to get into some philosophical debate I’d rather Villain bash my nose against the bars of my cell again.”

Supervillain’s lips pursed. “If you like.”

The words ran like cold water down Hero’s spine. “However,” he continued, “I’d rather pick your brain before Villain rips it from your skull.”

Hero swallowed the lump that was rising in their throat. How can he be so nonchalant about telling Hero that he had no reservations about Villain killing them? It isn’t anything like Hero thought he would be.

“You wouldn’t let them,” said Hero licking their lips, making an effort not to make a face at the taste of salt and iron of dried blood dancing along their tastebuds.

Supervillain’s smile was pleasant. “No?”

“No,” Hero echoed then swallowed. “Even if you did let Villain hurt me or torture me, or whatever, you wouldn’t let them kill me. You’d rather draw it out slowly.”

Supervillain raised his hands, elbows on the table and intertwined his fingers, resting his chin on them as he stared at Hero. His sea green eyes looked stormy now, the twisting murky colour piercing through Hero’s soul. His smile was anything but friendly now.

Now, he looked like Supervillain, like Hero expected him to be. Confident, perspicacious, formidable. This was the opponent Hero had been playing alongside across the city for months now. Hero noticed their heart beating faster in their chest.

“And you say you’re not a fan,” Supervillain said, a perceptible knowing coating every smooth syllable.

“I’m not a fan of you hurting people. Killing people.”

“And yet it’s all you heroes ever seem to respond to.” Hero’s retort died in their throat. “If it takes violence to goad you out of your precious hero tower, then I will resort to violence.”

Goading? What goading? Hero’s brows furrowed down over their eyes, shadowing them slightly as their mind ran over Supervillain’s words.

“Hmm,” Supervillain hummed fondly. “Flynn said you have a look when you’re trying to solve a riddle, this must be it.”

“I don’t have a look,” Hero spat, ignoring the blush that coloured their cheeks.

“Of course you do, dear Hero. We all do. That’s why in poker you have to learn to mask your tells.”

“Are we playing poker, Supervillain?”

“No, hardly. Though I’d wager I could win your money as easy as it took me to tank that developmental property on seventh.”

Hero hope their glare was burning a hole through Supervillain’s skull until they realised they were playing right into his hands and dissolving. Hero licked their lips and leaned forward in their chair too, hands clasped on the table in front of them.

“This wasn’t a spur of the moment thing, was it? You wanted me to follow Villain. You wanted them to catch me,” Hero said. Them was much easier than saying Flynn out loud.

Supervillain smiled appraisingly. “Yes.”

“And bring me here to meet you.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Supervillain’s eyes flashed, something glinting within them. “Because Hero, I’ve wanted to meet you as much as you’ve wanted to meet me.”

Hero held up their cuffed hands. “Couldn’t have done it more civilly?”

“Oh please,” Supervillain scoffed, resting his palms flat on the table and pushing his chair back. Hero’s heartbeat quickened as Supervillain stood up and started making his way slowly, predatorily slowly, towards Hero like a cat playing with a mouse. Hero wanted to not move, to not show him the effect he had on Hero, but their body didn’t get the message. The closer Supervillain came to Hero the more they shrunk back into the chair, hands braced on the table ready to spring to their feet and — and then what?

Supervillain stopped beside Hero’s chair, one hand on the back of it, the other hooking a finger around the small length of chain that kept Hero’s wrists locked together. He pulled it up, Hero’s arms going with it involuntarily until Supervillain held Hero’s arms up high over their head.

Hero grit their teeth as their shoulders strained from their sitting position.

“We both knew one of us would have to be in chains for us to be able to chat,” said Supervillain tilting his head. All friendliness had melted from his face leaving a cold grin and hungry eyes feasting off the sight of Hero at his table. “I just decided it wasn’t going to be me.”

Hero tugged their arms down suddenly but they may as well not have for the lot of good it did them. Supervillain leaned down, his face close to Hero’s as he grinned.

“You should have struck first, little Hero. Then maybe the roles would be reversed, but as of right now—” Supervillain’s eyes darkened. “I control the board.”

*~*~*~*~*

TW: lady whump, lady whumpee, male whumpers, multiple whumpers, broken bones, kidnapping, kidnap whump, physical violence against a woman,

please be aware of the tags and don't engage if you don't like lady whump! Thank you :)

*~*~*~*~*

It was pouring out, Civilian realised with a groan, resting her forehead against the office window. “Another late night, Civilian?”

Civilian turned her head to see her crush stopped in the middle of the cubicle, his sweater draped over the crook of his elbow. He was just in his tee shirt that showed his defined arms.

That was just unfair, Civilian thought. Why does he have to have a nice face and body?

“Yeah. I’m trying to finish the report on the increase of Villain activity.”

Crush hummed with a nod and a pretty smile. “It seems we’re always the last two to leave,” said Crush.

“Probably because we have no lives,” Civilian said with a small laugh. Oh god she just said that. Out loud. To her crush. When he was probably gonna think she was a weird, boring loser now. Great. Perfect. And it started to rain heavier. Perfect. As if on cue.

To her utter surprise Crush laughed in reply, and not a forced laugh, like a proper, real one. Civilian could listen to that laugh all day.

“You don’t have to expose us like that, Civilian,” said Crush with a small shake of his head. He cleared his throat and then turned his body more towards Civilian. “Since we’re both workaholics and have no lives, how would you like to grab a drink with me?”

“Now?” Civilian asked, eyes going wide.

She looked like shit, and probably smelled like ink.

“Yeah. Now. Why not? I mean… like only if you want to…”

“Yeah, no. Now works,” said Civilian with a smile and Crush’s shoulders relaxed. Civilian quickly shut down her computer and started to gather her things before putting her jacket on and grabbing her crossbody bag before walking to Crush. He gestured towards the lifts and Civilian smiled and walked with him.

When they got into the lift, Crush pressed the ground floor button and the pair of them leaned against the back wall in silence.

Then they both tried to fill the silence at the same time.

“So what do—”

“This report you’re—”

Then they laughed and both said: “you go first.”

Civilian laughed again as a blush climbed Crush’s neck and coloured his cheeks pink. “I was asking,” Civilian continued. “What keeps you in so late every night?”

“Oh,” said Crush, then opened his mouth and a hesitant hum fell from his lips. His eyes almost nervous at Civilian’s question. “Okay, look. You can’t say it to anyone—”

“My lips are sealed,” said Civilian innocently, miming locking her mouth shut.

Crush smiled and leaned in closer to Civilian his voice dropping to a whisper, “you know the new guy? He covers politics…”

“Oh yeah. I’ve seen him around,” said Civilian, eyes bright as she looked at Crush.

“Yeah. He is such a shit writer,” said Crush and Civilian let out a startled laugh. “Don’t laugh. It’s not funny. I’m in late every night trying to fix it up and make it presentable.”

“No rest for the wicked,” said Civilian with a grin. Crush laughed.

“No,” he agreed. “We must be very wicked.”

“Extremely,” said Civilian, then as the doors open, she looked straight ahead as she added, “I’m going to tell him what you said.”

“Ah no. You can’t do that! I’m supposed to be an unbiased editor.”

“Still,” Civilian teased. Crush grabbed Civilian’s arm, stopping her from going out into the cold wet night. Civilian looked at his hand then up at Crush as he pulled an umbrella from his bag. He stepped out first into the little roofed area and opened the umbrella, holding it high enough for them both to fit under.

Civilian said, “you’re so prepared.”

Crush shook his head. “I just listen to the weather after the news.”

“Then what surprise is left in life, Crush?”

Crush brought her to his local bar just down the road, The Public Domain. Crush told her that a lot of lawyers around the area come drink here too. Civilian smiled politely. Crush always had a good network of people that he trusted for his sources. It always seemed like a secret, and now that he was bringing Civilian here, it felt… well, like he was willing to share it with her.

The bar was buzzing with chatter and life. The smell of carpet dust and stale beer greeted their senses the moment they stepped into it. Crush held the door open with his foot, shaking the excess rain off the umbrella before closing it. He smiled slightly when he caught Civilian’s eye and nodded towards the bar. Civilian got the hint and walked up to it with him. The bar was quaint and bustling with patrons, chatting animatedly, laughter occasionally punctuating the conversations leaving a nice rhythmic lull to the pub.

The barman grinned when he saw Crush. “Another late night, Crush?”

Crush’s hand went to the nape of his neck and rubbed it bashfully, it endeared Civilian to him even more if that was possible.

“Yeah, you got me.”

“The usual?” the barman asked, and Crush smiled and said, “yes. A Guinness please and—” Crush said, looking back at Civilian. He leaned into the barman and held up two fingers. “Actually, two please.”

“Two Guinnesses,” said Crush again, and took out his wallet as did Civilian. Crush pushed her hand back and said: “put that away, I’m getting it. We’re here on my invitation.”

“Fine. I get the next round,” said Civilian.

Crush cocked an eyebrow at her. “So confident we’ll have another.”

“I’m just ensuring you know what you’re in for,” said Civilian with a wink. She thanked Crush for the drink, and they went to a small booth in the back. The conversation flowed easy, easier than Civilian flirting with him in the printer room. Or at the office offering to get Crush a coffee from the canteen because she was going anyway. It was better, more intimate.

The conversation got back to work on her third round of drinks and Crush’s smile was far better looking and almost irresistible. Civilian realised halfway through a story Crush was telling her of work that she could just reach over the table and crush her lips to his and all would be well.

His lips stopped moving, then turned up into a grin. “Civilian?”

“Yeah?”

“I was wondering when you got into current affairs?” Crush asked, his husky laugh making an appearance. Civilian blushed at being caught staring.

“Oh,” said Civilian, trying to think back to when she got interested in current events. “I mean… with all the Hero/ villain stories going around, and our paper not really being Pro or Anti Heroes I just wanted to start reporting the facts. As it happened, so people can witness the unbiased information, the before and after, and make up her own minds about it.”

“And?” Crush asked and Civilian let out a small laugh, lifting her hands in a shrug.

“And… Alice liked the idea and told me to handle the Hero–Villain side of things. It got a lot of positive feedback from our readers too.”

Crush leaned in, resting his elbows on the table. “But why were you interested in it to begin with?”

“I was reading about Hero and how good it is that we have them to help us and stop the Villains running around our city. Praising them to the brim, it was bordering on sycophantic…” Civilian trailed off, taking a sip of her Guinness. Crush smiled and reached over the table, wiping some of the foam off of Civilian’s upper lip with her thumb.

It was as if the world had frozen in that moment between them. Civilian’s heart stopped beating for a fleeting second that stretched into eternity. Crush retracted his hand and licked the foam from his thumb with a secretive smile.

Civilian’s face burned redder than cherries, her cheeks heating up. From all the drinking, Civilian told herself, not anything else. Not how hot Crush was, not at all… they barely noticed.

“And you didn’t like that?” Crush asked with his perfect knowing smile. He knew exactly what caused the blush covering Civilian’s face scarlet and continued on the conversation while they were distracted. As if he didn’t do anything at all.  

Oh no Civilian loved that, she wanted to get more foam on her lip just so he could wipe it off again.

What were they talking about again? Oh god, she was making it so obvious. Think Civilian! Oh yes, Heroes and Villains, oh god, she was making it so obvious. Play it cool, Civilian.  

SPEAK CIVILIAN! A voice screamed at her from the back of her mind, and she blushed again.

“No,” said Civilian, turning the clammy glass around in her hands. She continued thoughtfully, “I don’t like when things get shoved down my throat before I know what shit they’re shovelling. Turns out the Hero agency had donated a very generous sum to the publication and that’s why there was a sudden exposé on how good Heroes were.”

Crush sat back when Civilian stopped talking, a small hidden thing twinkling behind his smile. “What?” Civilian asked, cocking her brow.

“Nothing,” Crush said with his handsome smile.

“No what? What’s that smile for?”

“I just didn’t realise you were so passionate about Heroes and villains from reading your pieces. It’s… you’re very surprising, Civilian.”

Civilian bowed her head and Crush laughed, getting to his feet. “Come on. Let’s get you home.”

Civilian nodded, following Crush out of the booth then out the door to the pub. It had stopped raining. A sheen of water covering the streets the only remnant that it had ever rained. So, when water splashed on the pair of them from a passing car, they could do nothing but laugh.

That laugh got cut off as into a scream as something suddenly slammed into Crush. Civilian whirled a scream of horror in her throat. “Crush!”

Civilian was running after him, deeper into a side street, shoes splashing the puddles up her feet. At the bottom of the alley Civilian saw Crush engaged in a struggle with someone. Civilian pulled pepper spray from her bag and ran up on the pair.

Crush’s eyes found Civilian and widened as he yelled: “Civilian! No— ngh, run! Go!”

“Civilian, hmm?” Civilian turned on her heel, pepper spray aimed and ready at the newcomer, but her wrist was caught in the attacker’s hand, and he twisted it roughly. Civilian cried out, as her attacker twisted her wrist further and plucked the pepper spray from her hand with ease. Her only defence. “How lovely to make your acquaintance.”

Civilian’s eyes went hard, and she balled her hand into a fist. She found her centre in her feet, bending her knees slightly. Then twisted her whole body with the slap that she threw straight for the attacker’s cheek.

The attacker simply caught that wrist too, smiling down at her with a grin that exposed too many teeth. Civilian yanked her wrists down, trying to break free of his grip, but her attacker yanked her forward suddenly and Civilian stumbled, her balance thrown off. Her attacker spun her, so her back was to the attacker’s front, her arm twisted behind her back and pinned there. Then there was a gentle hand on her throat, holding her head up, and when Civilian tried to struggle the attacker lifted her captured arm higher and Civilian cried out.

“Crush. You might want to stop,” said the man holding Civilian. The scuffle came to a pause, Crush’s head lifting to see Civilian and whoever was holding her. His eyes narrowing at the person behind Civilian, but he stopped fighting, nonetheless. Then he got a punch to the face for good measure from his attacker.

“I think…” the man behind Civilian said, “we’re all going to go for a drive, hmm?”

“No,” said Civilian. They were in a public place. Her best weapon was her lungs. So, Civilian opened her mouth and screamed at the top of her lungs for “Help! Help! Somebody help us! Police! Ple-”

The coolness of a blade biting into her neck cut her off. “Keep screaming, they’re so pretty… but I would hate for my knife to slip…”

“Okay. Right Hand,” Crush said, glancing between Civilian and Right hand behind Civilian. “I’ll go with you, just… just let Civilian go.”

A rumbling chuckle from behind Civilian sent a shiver ran down her spine. “Oh no, no, no, Crush. Civilian’s coming along to make sure you behave.”

Civilian’s blood went cold as she looked at Crush’s resolve shattering right in front of her eyes. She wanted to fight. She wanted Crush to fight. To try. To struggle to punch to do something…

“Henchmen take Crush, don’t worry. He won’t put up a fight,” Civilian was pushed forward, and she resisted. Her hand was twisted further up her back, and she winced as she was forced a stepped forward.

“Keep walking or I’ll break your arm, Civilian,” Right Hand said into Civilian’s ear. Civilian obeyed because what else could she do?

At the end of the alley there was a black car parked where they had come in. Which meant these guys had been following them… for how long? Right hand kept pushing Civilian forward and when they got to the car, he pushed Civilian into the backseat then slammed the door shut. They did the same to Crush on the other side and Civilian’s panicked eyes went to Crush who just whispered: “everything will be all right.”

“Why do I get the feeling you know these people?” Civilian whispered back. Her hand went to the door trying to open it, but it wouldn’t budge. Locked. Child locked, no doubt. Jesus fucking Christ, what the fuck is going on? Crush opened her mouth to reply when the two front doors opened and their attackers, Henchman and Right hand, got into the front of the car.

Henchman was in the driver’s seat and took off, while Right Hand turned in his seat and smiled at Civilian. She couldn’t really tell his features from here. It was too dark. Did he have blue eyes? Or brown? And his hair… she’d need to remember something concrete to tell the police when she get free.

If they get free.

“Sorry to interrupt your date, Civilian.”

“Go fuck yourself, Right Hand,” Civilian said in reply. Right hand just laughed and stared forward again.

“You got a keeper there, Crush. You tell her who you are? Or does the little reporter want to figure it out all by themselves?”

Civilian looked out her window, but it was all blacked out. She couldn’t even see her own reflection. Of course. Of fucking course.

Crush spoke next. “Right Hand, let Civilian go, okay? I’ll come willingly.”

“You’re coming willingly now, Crush.”

“For now,” Crush threatened, his voice taking on a completely different tone than Civilian was ever used to. Ever knew Crush was capable of.

“Put your claws back in,” said Right Hand dismissive. “We’re almost there now anyways. Besides… you wouldn’t risk putting poor Civilian in danger by trying to stop the car and be a hero now, would you?”

Civilian glanced at Crush from the corner of her eye, her heart hammering in her chest but he wouldn’t look at her. Civilian put her hand out, resting it on the middle seat. Crush put his hand in theirs, lacing his fingers through hers and squeezing gently.

When the car stopped Henchman and Right Hand got out of the car. Civilian’s door opened first, and she was grabbed by the arm and pulled out. She looked into the face of Right Hand, who was still smiling down at her. She mustered up her best glare in return. Right Hand just pushed her in front of him again and told her to walk.

Civilian did just that, trying to take in everything around her. Figure out where they were but all she saw was a garage made of cinder bricks and concrete floors. Then a door opened to them, and Right Hand pushed her through. It just led to a larger room. A man stood at the opposite wall, his back to them as they entered. Right Hand’s grip tightened on Civilian’s arm when he felt Civilian almost stop.

“The prodigal son returns,” said Right Hand to the man ahead of them. Civilian looked over their shoulder, trying to find Crush, but a hand squeezed her cheeks and dragged their gaze to face forward again.

Crush spoke and Civilian’s head flooded with relief. He was still here. Civilian wasn’t alone. They were fine. He was fine.

“I’m not saying shit until you let Civilian go,” said Crush to the room. Then a grunt of pain and Civilian shot forward to help and was yanked back by her hair with a yelp.

The man finally turned to face the group and Civilian’s breath caught in her throat. That was Supervillain. That man was the Supervillain. Civilian and Crush were taken here to see Supervillain?! But then that means the person holding Civilian was… Right hand… Supervillain’s right hand. Civilian felt all the blood drain from her face as a small laugh sounded above her. Civilian took an involuntary step back, but just hit Right Hand’s chest.

“Oh, not so brave now, are we?” Right hand asked and Civilian couldn’t find it in herself to reply.

Supervillain approached them. Fine shoes clacking off concrete, echoing. Civilian didn’t dare breathe as Supervillain came closer and closer to her. Supervillain was taller than Civilian. Taller. Broader. Crueller. Instead of going to Crush he walked right up to Civilian and Right hand pushed her forward, letting go of her hair and arm.

Civilian felt very cold and exposed like this. She nearly missed Right Hand’s brutal hold on her. Supervillain looked down at her without a hint of an expression on his face. He looked almost alien. Cold.

Supervillain took Civilian’s hand in his and pulled it up as if to inspect it. Civilian let him. She hated herself for it, but Supervillain killed people, this wasn’t a time to be brave.

“You’ve been gone too long, Crush,” said Supervillain simply. His voice sent shivers down Civilian’s spine. Then Civilian was screaming, white hot pain burst behind her eyes as a resounding crack tore through her hand. Her legs went to jelly, and she wanted to be sick, but she just put her other hand out for support against the only other solid thing there: which happened to be Supervillain.

“LET HER GO! She has nothing to do with this!” Crush yelled. Distantly Civilian was aware of the scuffle behind her. That Crush was probably trying to get to her, but it didn’t matter because that wouldn’t stop the pain in her wrist from burning.

“Are you going to keep making demands, Crush? Because there are 206 bones in Civilian’s body, and I can break as many as you need to remind you of who has the power here.”

Civilian was shivering at the threat. Or the pain. She didn’t know.

“Please…” Crush again. “Please let them go.”

“No,” said Supervillain, and Civilian wanted to throw up. She wasn’t sober enough to deal with this shit. A hand on her chin tilted her head up to look Villain in the eye. “Just a hairline fracture, my dear. Nothing to worry about. Right hand?”

Civilian felt Right hand’s hand on her shoulder again and she nearly sagged against him. “If Crush decides to make any more demands break something else of her.”

“I won’t,” Crush said quickly, the words rushed out panicky and desperate. Then cleared his throat and said again: “I won’t, sir.”

Read part one here

Continued from this part here

*~*~*~*~*

What kind of idiot were they to be stuck here? Hero should have told Sidekick when they got the tip about Villain… they should have told them that they were going to rough Villain up a bit, get the information they needed on Other Villain’s whereabouts and beat the shit out of them. Just a little revenge for touching a hair on Sidekick’s innocent head.

Even if they managed to catch Villain and mete out justice on Other Villain, they would have beaten the ever-living shit out of the wrong person, and that was something Hero didn’t want to think about in that moment.

That Flynn…

Their Flynn was the one who put Sidekick in the med bay.

Sidekick, who was still in the med bay, where Hero should be, but no. Instead, they were here, powerless and bleeding and it was all their fault.

Hero didn’t know how long they sat and stewed on that thought. Long enough that their nose stopped bleeding anyway. Hero tentatively reached up to their upper lip, their hand came away from it dry, the blood caked and flaked onto their face now.

“What happened to your face?” Hero angled their head down from where they stared at the ceiling to see Flynn standing on the other side of the cell bars.

“Fuck off, Red,” Hero grumbled, and fought the wince at their casual nickname for Flynn slipping out of their lips. “I’m not in the mood.”

A jangle of keys and the cell door was open, footsteps approaching Hero in their cot in the corner. Hero’s heart ached with every beat as Flynn came into their line of sight, concern drawing their features together.

How many times had they seen that same concern on his face? Told Hero it was going to be okay. Cleaned their wounds, laughed about the bruises the next day?

How much of it was a lie? — Hero wanted to ask. The question burned a hole on the tip of their tongue, but they didn’t dare speak it. They just stared up at the ceiling as best they could.

“What? You piss someone off already?”

Hero sighed. Flynn sat on the edge of the bed, moving closer to Hero hands going to inspect the damage. Hero slapped their hands away, tears burning in the back of their eyes.

“Don’t fucking touch me, Flynn,” Hero bit out. “You don’t get to betray me and then pretend to be my friend and concerned about me.”

Flynn stared; eyes sad as he said: “okay. Guess I deserve that.”

“You deserve so much more,” Hero said, eyes burning with hatred, voice barely above a whisper. “How many of our friends died because of you? Hmm?”

“Hero, not all of it–” Flynn began then stopped, huffed out a breath of air through his nose, hand running through his hair. “Not all of it was a lie. I am your friend. I do care about you.”

“Oh really? Then you’d never use your power on me, right?” Hero demanded, echoing back Flynn’s words against him. Flynn had the audacity to even look guilty at that, and Hero leaned forwards, hands on Flynn’s as they said: “I forgive you, okay. I forgive you if you let me go. Flynn, please.”

Flynn’s eyebrows knit together, clearly conflicted but he said nothing. After a moment, Hero let out a breath of disbelief and sat back against the wall again.

“Yeah,” Hero scoffed, “we’re friends.”

“You have blood all over your face, Hero. You really want to just leave it?”

“Why the hell not?” Hero said, trying to force their tone into some form of neutrality.

Flynn sighed and stood up from the cot. “Supervillain wants an audience with you. I was sent to retrieve you.”

Hero rolled their eyes but got to their feet no less. “Of course,” they said, pushing past Flynn to the door. “God help you actually wanted to see how I was doing.”

“Hero—”

“I don’t want to talk to you anymore. Let’s just go.”

“Hero that’s not—”

Before they could get the fourth word out, Hero had whirled on them eyes blazing hotter than any hells furnace.

“Fair?!” They asked incredulously, their voice jumping two pitches at the sheer audacity of the word on their lips. “Is that what you were going to say?”

Flynn didn’t back down this time. Instead they stepped forward, looking down their nose at Hero.

“Yes. That is what I was going to say.”

“You are unbelievable!” Hero snapped matching Flynn with a step forward of their own. They held their cuffed hands up in Flynn’s face as if to remind him exactly why Hero was there in the first place. “If you’re my friend you’ll take these off.”

“Hero you know I can’t—”

Hero didn’t let him finish. Instead they placed their palms on Flynn’s chest and shoved them as hard as they could. Flynn looked about as bothered as if a fly had flown into the room.

“I can’t uncuff you Hero,” Hero said, lowering their voice to mimic Flynn’s and shoving him back again. “I can’t let you go Hero.” And again. “I can’t fucking think—” shove “for myself” shove “Hero.”

Hero glared up at Flynn trying to fight back the frustrated tears building behind her eyes. Anger was easier to focus on in the moment rather than that vast aching pit twisting uncomfortably in their gut.

“But I promise I’m your friend, Hero,” Hero mocked, shoving him back again until Flynn’s back hit off the wall. Flynn’s eyebrows curved down and it left a pang in Hero’s chest that they hated. “And then you have the gall to look hurt. As if I betrayed you.”

Hero ignored the tears that fell at the last sentence, or at least tried to. They tried to be firm and act tough, but saying the betrayal out loud, acknowledging it when it was just the two of them was too much.

“Would you trust me if the roles were reversed?” Hero asked, not even wanting to look at Flynn for the answer. The more they saw the conflict on his face the harder it was to hate him. Flynn however, didn’t take this into consideration when he put his hand on Hero’s face and tilted it back to face him.

Hero narrowed their eyes at him, pushing every ounce of anger into their gaze hoping they would turn into actual daggers and stab him.

“No,” Flynn breathed softly, thumb wiping away the tear streaks from Hero’s face. “I wouldn’t trust you if the roles were reversed, but I would hear you out of you tried to explain it to me.”

“And if I took you to Supervillain?!” Hero asked, their voice low and furious as they stepped out of Flynn’s touch. “The enemy we’ve been trying to stop for months?”

“You.”

“What?!” Hero demanded hotly.

Flynn’s gaze had hardened, his face devoid of all emotion now except for his usual mask of easy confidence, smirk on his lips as if he didn’t just wipe Hero’s tears away.

“The enemy you’ve been trying to stop for months,” Flynn said again taking a step forward, a dangerous glint in his eyes. Hero matched it with one back, cautious, hackles raised. “I mean the man you borderline obsessed over, Hero. Don’t you want to meet the genius who eluded you, the great detective, for all that time?”

“Not particularly,” Hero said through gritted teeth, with another step back that Flynn matched, getting closer and closer each time.

“That’s what you called him though, right? A genius,” Flynn teased, his grin showing his teeth. “I mean, fuck, Hero some of the moves he made you were damn right impressed with. You even said you’d have done exactly the same thing if—”

“I was in his position,” Hero cut Flynn off. Flynn’s smirk grew wider as he took another step closer, dipping his head conspiratorially.

“Now you can be,” said Flynn with a wide gesture of his hands. Hero followed his hand to the cell door that they happened to be right beside. Hero was keenly aware that Flynn was backing them towards the door the whole time. “Even just for the intellectual stimulation if nothing else.”

“Go fuck yourself, Flynn. I’m not willingly walking into the Lion’s den.”

Flynn’s eyelids fell half over his eyes. “It is less dignified to be dragged, Hero, but if you insist.”

Flynn made a grab for Hero’s arm but they dodged at the last minute, turning to shoulder Flynn out of the way. Flynn didn’t so much as budge from their spot. Instead he caught Hero by the strap of their scabbard and yanked them into Flynn’s chest.

“The hard way, wonderful. I wouldn’t expect any less of you Hero,” Flynn said, wrapping an arm over Hero's chest and keeping them close as they stepped out of the cell, pushing Hero forward with their own body weight. “Let's go introduce you to Supervillain.”

*~*~*~*~*

Read part one here

Continued from this

TW: Blood

*~*~*~*~*

The next thing Hero remembered they were in a cell on a bed, the cuffs still firmly around their wrists. They didn’t remember how they got there, or where they were, something Hero could no doubt credit to Flynn. Though Hero felt the salt trail of tears hardened around the corner of their eyes and down their cheeks.

So much for not using their power on me.

They were thankful Flynn had left them with their scabbard at least, straps still wrapped tight around their chest, scabbard reassuring on their back. They could grab their daggers anytime.

As soon as Flynn took these stupid handcuffs off, Hero thought mulishly, staring down at their trapped hands balanced in between their bent knees.

There was a door opening somewhere nearby and Hero raised their head to look at the cell bars, waiting for whoever it was to come gloat. Somewhere, in the dark side of their mind, a sad, quiet voice wanted nothing more than to see Flynn’s stupid face on the other side of the bars.

Instead, it was Villain who appeared. Hero struggled to keep their face neutral. They didn’t want to show Villain what impact they left on them. Villain and their stupid fucking shadows. Hero fixed Villain with a bored stare, resting their head back against the cold wall.

“Miss me?” Hero asked, wanting to celebrate that their voice didn’t betray them. Unlike Flynn.

Villain just stared, cocking a brow at Hero. Then the shadows slipped from their palms and under their clothes, slowly, dreadfully slowly, dripping, slithering along the ground and through the bars of the cell. Hero’s heart hammered against their chest, but they forced themselves not to move. Not to react. That’s what Villain wanted, for them to scream and cry.

Fine. Maybe they would, but Villain would damn fucking sure have to work for it.

“If you want to give me a hug, Villain you can come in here and do it yourself.”

“Cute,” said Villain, cocking their head to the side, a smile slipping onto their face, “but I think I’ll leave that for Flynn.”

Hero’s heart panged at that, and they hated themselves for it. They shouldn’t be sad. They should be angry. Pissed off, but their stupid little heart ached at the mention of Flynn, and they couldn’t wrestle the feeling away.

“What was it like?” Villain asked, leaning their hands through the bars and clasping them together. Their eyes shining with malice, “realising your best friend and greatest ally was all lies. Did it hurt? I bet it hurt.”

“Ehh. You win some, you lose some,” Hero shrugged, subtly retracting their feet to their chest to evade the shadowy claws that were crawling up the legs of the bedframe.

“Ah. You seem more confident than before. Have you had time to process it all? Compartmentalise? Is that what they taught you during Hero training? Maybe I’ll ask Flynn…”

Hero smiled, the result humourless and wan. “You do that.”

The cold was the first sign that the shadows were on them. A hand wrapped around Hero’s ankle, slowly pulling their leg down. “What about you?” Hero asked, wanting to take their focus off the shadows pulling at them.

Villain’s eyebrows raised in question. “What about me?”

“You must have missed him,” Hero continued, nonchalant. “I mean when Flynn was pretending to be my friend. The late nights, the early mornings. The stakeouts… we got close. Maybe they were lying to me about being a villain and a traitor, but still… all that time they spent with me they weren’t with you. How does that feel?”

Villain didn’t answer. Instead, they drew their arm back sharply and the shadows yanked Hero down the bed. Hero kicked and fought, but they were struggling against air and shadows. With their hands locked uselessly in front of them and without their powers Hero could do nothing as the shadows kept dragging Hero towards the bars where Villain stood.

“You’re not worth the effort,” Villain spat as they reached up and pressed their actual cold hand to Hero’s throat, keeping their chin up and forcing them to look into Villain’s cool black eyes, burning with an old kind of hatred.

“Mmm,” Hero said, clearing their throat with a slight cough that highlighted Villain’s hands on their throat. “Maybe you should ask Fly—”

Villain cut Hero off by squeezing their hand around Hero’s throat. Hero pulled back, but it was as if a wall was behind them squishing them towards the bars, to Villain’s hand and their unyielding grip. Hero couldn’t even use their hands to free themselves because they were squished between their rib cage and the iron bars of the cell.

Eventually Villain let go and Hero pushed back a little, gasping in lungfuls of air.

“I don’t even know what he sees in you,” Villain hissed, and Hero looked up through their lashes, still wheezing for oxygen and said: “my devil may care charm, perhaps.”

A hand gripped the back of Hero’s head and slammed their nose into the bars in front of them. Hero gripped the bars on instinct when a loud resounding crunch echoed through Hero’s head, along with their sharp cry of pain. Warm blood started flowing down their nose and lips, dripping passed their chin and onto their shirt.

“Motherfucker,” Hero gasped out. Then their head was shoved down again and Hero cried out in pain, the impact hitting their bridge square on the bars and causing the blood to gush, some going down the back of their throat and Hero coughed, the taste of iron staining their mouth. Enraged Hero spit some of the blood into Villain’s stupid, smirking face.

Villain smiled and it seemed to suck all confidence from Hero’s very soul. A smile so dark it struck fear straight to Hero’s heart.

“Ah. I see now what he likes about you. You look perfect when you’re bleeding and scared.”

Hero couldn’t help themselves as the words spilled from their mouth: “you creep. At least buy me dinner first.”

Then Hero was forced onto their knees by the shadows holding them. Villain grabbed Hero’s chin, tilting their head side to side, examining them. Hero tried to push back, to stand up, to do anything. But the shadows kept them exactly how Villain wanted them.

“There. Beautiful,” Villain said. Hero’s blood was dripping onto Villain’s hand, but they didn’t seem to care. Hero sucked in a breath through gritted teeth and choked on some of the blood, sputtering slightly. Villain’s eyes seared into Hero’s soul, watching them struggle and revelling in it. Villain pressed their hand that was soaked in Hero’s blood to Hero’s cheek, wiping the remnants on Hero before straightening up properly.

Villain released them and Hero fell to all fours, coughing out the blood onto the concrete floor. Painting the miserable grey, a bright red. When Hero looked up again Villain was gone, but the fear they had trapped in Hero’s chest was still very much there.

Lingering.

Hero retreated to the back wall of the cell, sitting on the cot again and resting their head back against the wall, waiting for the blood to stop falling and cursing themselves.

What kind of idiot were they to be stuck here? Hero should have told Sidekick when they got the tip about Villain… they should have told them that they were going to rough Villain up a bit, get the information they needed on Other Villain’s whereabouts and beat the shit out of them. Just a little revenge for touching a hair on Sidekick’s innocent head.

Even if they managed to catch Villain and mete out justice on Other Villain, they would have beaten the ever-living shit out of the wrong person, and that was something Hero didn’t want to think about in that moment.

That Flynn…

Their Flynn was the one who put Sidekick in the med bay.

Sidekick, who was still in the med bay, where Hero should be, but no. Instead, they were here, powerless and bleeding and it was all their fault.

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

Read part one

Continued from this part here

*~*~*~*~*

They stopped at a car parked right on the edge of the park, pulled in on the other side of the road. Secluded, and remote. Villain was already on the other side of the road, and when they saw Hero and Flynn they walked around the car and opened the boot, then turned to smile at Hero.

Hero stepped back unconsciously, shaking their head. “No. No. No.”

Flynn grabbed the crook of Hero’s elbow and pulled them forward but Hero made themselves grow heavy, dead weight. Flynn’s hand slipped off Hero when they landed on their arse on the frozen muck. They pushed themselves back on their feet, trying to escape.

“No! No! Flynn don’t, please! Please don’t do this!” Hero cried. They kicked out a leg at Flynn when they came closer. “Please, please don’t put me in the trunk please.”

Flynn put a placating hand out to Villain as they crouched down in front of Hero. “I’ll make you forget,” Flynn said softly. Hero’s heart slammed against their chest as tears pooled in their water line.

“No, Flynn. You can’t. I’ll know! You can’t please, please—”

“Hero,” Flynn said, tone a little more firm. “If you drive with us in the car, I can’t trust you not to crash the car or do something stupid.”

“I—” Hero said but the words were whisked away with the hitch in their breath. They couldn’t go into the trunk. Hero reached pathetically for their power as Flynn advanced but it was silenced by the power dampeners and Hero cursed.

They didn’t notice Flynn getting closer until it was too late. Flynn wrapped a hand around Hero’s ankle and yanked them forward. Hero yelped, then screamed for “someone! Someone help! So—”

“Flynn shut them up!” Villain yelled, as Flynn grabbed each side of Hero’s head and locked their gaze on Hero’s panicked ones. Hero felt their body go numb with Flynn’s gaze alone.

“Ssh, there we go. Hero you’re going to forget the journey to Supervillain’s house. You won’t remember you were trapped in the boot the whole ride there. Tell me.”

“I won’t remember the journey to Supervillain’s house. I won’t remember being trapped in the boot.”

“Good,” Flynn said with a smile. Then he took the opportunity to get the dazed Hero to their feet and walk them over to Villain.

“It’s so creepy when you do that,” said Villain. Flynn flashed a grin in reply. Villain grabbed Hero's arm and said, “start the car. I’ll put them in the boot. Knowing you, you’d let them ride in the passenger seat in a heartbeat.”

“You’re not wrong,” Flynn laughed. He left the pair of them and walked around the car to the driver’s seat before sliding in and shutting the door. He let out a sigh as he turned the key in the ignition. He forgot Hero was claustrophobic. How could he forget that? He remembered Hero telling them that fact in confidence, during one of their late night stake outs. How scared they sounded.

He should have made them forget before they saw the car, but it was too late now anyhow. Villain climbed into the backseat where the windows were blacked out, and closed the door. Flynn put the car into drive and pulled out onto the road, as nonchalant as ever.

*~*~*~*~*

Continued from this

Hero stared at them; mouth open in silent confusion. Which all ended when they felt cold metal press against the back of their skull. Other Hero beamed at someone behind Hero, then fixed their smug gaze on Hero’s eyes.

“You won’t because you’re coming with us.”

*~*~*~*~*

“Don’t move,” came Villain’s voice over Hero’s shoulder. Hero lifted their head slightly, only to have the barrel press into their head and push it down again to face Flynn. “I will shoot you. Give him your handcuffs.”

Hero glared down at Flynn who looked entirely too pleased with himself. The barrel pressed Hero’s head down further impatiently.

“Now.”

Still Hero didn’t move. They didn’t know what to do but they knew they couldn’t just stay frozen like this forever. It was so hard to think with their heart beating fast against their chest. They needed to do something.

Flynn was a villain…

Forget it. Focus.

Flynn moved below Hero drawing them out of their trance. Flynn removed his hands from behind his head, reaching up to Hero’s waist and slid his hands to Hero’s back, unclipping the power dampening cuffs from their belt. He opened them with an easy flourish of his wrist.

Hero dodged to the right, one foot on the ground while they rounded their other foot out to Villain’s hand kicking the gun out of it. They followed the movement through, their second foot landing on the ground behind them so they stood with their knees slightly bent. Hero pressed their heels down into the dirt and lunged for Villain, catching them around the waist and they went rolling. Hero threw a punch once they stopped, but Villain caught it and clamped their fingers down on Hero’s fist, not letting go.

The corner of Villain’s lips quipped into a smile before shadows engulfed Hero's fist like a glove, and Villain squeezed Hero’s fist crushing it with their shadows. Hero cried out, ripping themselves away and stomping a heavy boot down on Villain’s armpit. Villain let go with a grunt, and Hero fell backwards, catching themself before they hit the ground. Hero stepped back, their shoulder hitting a tree, as they cradled their fist against their chest.

From Hero’s position they could see Flynn who was now standing, smiling, holding Hero’s handcuffs in their hand like it was a sure thing, like they weren’t afraid of Hero getting away from them. It made Hero’s skin crawl and blood boil at the same time.

How could he just stand there and be so nonchalant about being a villain. How did hero never notice? Never see! They were such an idiot.

“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be,” Flynn said as Villain got to their feet. Hero had to fight. They had to.

Hero stood up straighter, shaking out their wrist before reaching one hand behind their back, the other over their shoulder and drew their long, curved daggers from their sheaths. The black blades glinted beautifully up at Hero, an extension of their arm and the world seemed to right itself once more. The familiar click of their power humming once their blades settled comfortably in their palm.

Hero set their jaw, glaring at Flynn, and said: “go fuck yourself.”

Villain rolled their eyes, reaching down to pick up their gun. “I told you they’re more trouble than they’re worth,” said Villain, tone bored.

Flynn’s head tilted to the side. “I know, but aren’t they just adorable?”

Hero lunged for Flynn, and Flynn ducked out of the way. Hero manoeuvred back easily, shooting their right up in a feint, Flynn dodged to the left and Hero grinned as they got the blade of their left under Flynn’s throat.

“Hero…” Flynn said with their beautiful voice and Hero could feel the edges of their vision blur. They shook their head quickly, shoving Flynn away. “Stop fighting us, Hero. Come willingly.”

Hero stopped, feeling weak, their guard lowering just a smidge. The compulsion moving through their mind like molasses, making them sluggish. Hero bit down hard on the inside of their cheek, drawing blood and the taste of iron sharpened them again.

They drew their daggers up.

Only one blade raised. Hero frowned, their head turning slowly down to their side to see a glove of shadows enshrouding their arm up to the middle of their forearm.

The shadows pulsed darkly and squeezed around Hero’s wrist until they let out a sudden painfilled cry. Hero reached over trying to claw the shadows away with their free hand, but their hand went straight through the shadows to their arm. The shadows intangible. To Hero’s horror when they pulled their hand away the shadows had wrapped around both.

Hero had barely a second to register it before the shadows pulsed again, a deep all-encompassing black and the pain intensified tenfold. The shadows were so cold, too cold and empty but they burned, as if Hero was submerged in the Arctic ocean. It felt like the shadows were burning cold under Hero's skin. Ice raced through their veins as white flashed behind Hero’s eyes, and they were screaming the only thing that seemed to bring any heat back into their body. Hero didn't even notice that they dropped their precious daggers beside them.

Every muscle in their body seized up with the blinding pain as Hero fell to their knees, gasping in shaky breaths as the excruciating pain ebbed into a sickening cold that left Hero shivering. Tears they didn't know had fallen turning cold on their cheeks. Hero was exhausted, even breathing was too much effort: their breath dredged up from their lungs, Hero heaving in heavy air. Even the darkness seemed too bright all of a sudden.

A pair of boots advanced before them, a hand went under their chin tilting their Head up to see Flynn standing above them, regarding them with a mimicry of pity. “I told you to come the easy way, Hero,” he said.

The cuffs of shadow raised Hero’s wrists to meet Flynn’s hands and he locked the cuffs down snug against Hero’s wrists. Hero felt the familiar sizzling of power beneath their veins fade and become nothing but a knowing ache, like there was something missing that is supposed to be there. Powerless. Hero barely had it in them to care, mind still hazy from the pain as the shadows dissipated under the cuffs.

Flynn reached down, scooping up Hero’s daggers and sheathed them behind Hero’s back. The action alone made Hero want to sob, the cruelty of having the opportunity to fight back so close and not being able to reach it.

“Let’s not dally any longer, Flynn. We don’t know if they called for reinforcements.”

“Don’t worry,” said Flynn, looking down at Hero with a fond smile. He tucked a stray piece of hair behind Hero’s ear as he said: “they didn’t.”

Hero shivered at their easy confidence. Hero knew Flynn and Flynn knew Hero, inside and out, they were partners... Flynn put their hands under Hero’s elbow and started guiding them up, but Hero pulled away. “Get away from me,” Hero spat, venom lilting every syllable.

The shadows reappeared at Hero’s arms, and they glared up at Villain, though they thought they were going to have a heart attack at the simple threat.

“He likes you. He wants you. He is the only thing keeping me from unleashing the shadows to wrangle some more of your pretty little tears, and cute little screams from your lips. So, if I were you, I’d listen to him and stand the fuck up, Hero.”

Hero glared at Villain, then looked down to the shadow still clinging threateningly to their arms and sucked in a sharp breath. When Flynn offered to help them up again, this time Hero let them. Hero felt bile rise in their throat when Flynn touched them, but they sucked it up for the moment. It was better than having Villain’s shadows torture them.

“There you go, Hero. See how nice it can be when we’re civil? Trust me, we’ll have fun together,” Flynn said, disgustingly chipper. “The three amigos!”

The cold air bit into Hero’s skin as they walked through the woods, Flynn walking beside them and Villain striding ahead, alert, and ready. Their muscles still shaking after the unnatural use of Villain's shadows on them.

“How long?” Hero croaked. They didn’t mean for it to come out as broken as it did; like they were a wounded dog, a stupid puppy who got kicked and kept coming back for more.

Flynn was gentle as they said: “as long as we’ve been friends, if that’s what you mean. Longer, before I even joined the academy. I guess I’ve always been a Villain, the rouse was the hero business.”

“We met at the academy. When you told me that you wanted to help people from the dregs—”

“I do,” said Flynn sincerely, and it sounded so convincing. “I just don’t think being a Hero will let me do it. Supervillain—”

“Terrorises the city!” Hero bit out. Flynn just sighed.

“Well, you’ll understand when you meet them.”

Hero’s blood ran cold, their feet slowing to a stop. Flynn glanced at Villain’s back, then stepped in front of Hero, their once kind eyes that were so reassuring now only served to terrify Hero, as if they looking into a stranger's. “You’re bringing me to Supervillain?”

“Of course. After I told Supervillain who was single handedly thwarting our every attack, seeing through every diversion…” Flynn said with a coy smile, eyes flashing with something Hero had never seen in them before. Flynn’s voice dipped as they said, “well let’s just say they were intrigued.”

Hero’s blood was pumping in their ears as they swallowed the lump in the throat, forcing themselves to speak, not to cry. Don’t cry.

“You… you were always with me… following my lead. I thought you trusted me. I thought— but after,” Hero’s eyes hardened as they shoved Flynn in the chest, pushing them back a step. “All this time you were just keeping an eye on me! You fucking— you knew Sidekick was—”

Hero’s eyes widened then, and they wanted to get sick. “You went with Sidekick… they didn’t meet Other Villain at all, did they?”

Flynn’s intelligent eyes turned cruel, drawing a sadistic smile onto his face. He reached up and grabbed Hero’s chin between his index finger and thumb, pinching it. He didn’t let Hero escape as they tried to move their head back, he just tightened his grip until it turned painful. Hero reached up again to shove Flynn back, but Flynn caught their arm and held them down, as if Hero's struggles were non-existent.

“See what I mean, Hero? So intelligent. So clever. Supervillain will love you.”

Flynn grabbed Hero’s elbow again. This time his grip was harsh and tight as he dragged Hero along with him to catch up with Villain, and Hero didn't bother to waste their energy struggling anymore. They had to relax and save their energy for the right moment.

*~*~*~*~*

Hero followed the villain through the winding trees, arms braced in front of them at the oncoming bushes and branches they had to wade through before they got to a clearing.

Hero stopped, breath hitting off cold air, surrounding them in smoke. They listened for any sound but heard nothing.

Then – there.

A sudden movement.

Hero bolted after Villain again, hot on their heels as they sprinted after them. Villain was so close. Hero had to push a little faster. Hero reached out to grab Villain when someone knocked into them from the side. The trees extended above Hero, the world seeming to stretch as they fell.

Hero’s head hit off the frozen ground hard, rattling their brain, the world growing hazy for a moment. Hero’s assailant landed on top of Hero and while Hero was momentarily stunned, they sat up, knees straddling Hero’s hips effectively pinning them. Hero swung a closed fist up, but their wrist was caught, and their attacker pinned the other to the ground as well.

“Well, well, well. As I live and breathe, Hero. It’s been a long time.”

Hero would recognise that stupid drawl anywhere.

“Flynn?” Hero asked, their brain trying to catch up with their mouth. “What are you doing here? Get off me! Villain’s getting away.”

“I know,” Flynn said with an easy smile. “I’m meant to distract you.”

Hero’s blood ran cold. “What?”

Flynn tilted his head down at Hero.

“I didn’t hit you that hard, did I? If I want you to not remember something I won’t beat the memory out of you, don’t worry,” he said, leaning down to get closer to Hero, whispering, “I’ll take it.”

Hero threw all their weight into their hips, as they shifted, rolling Flynn off them so they were on top.

“As you like it, sweetheart,” Flynn chuckled. Hero threw a fist out and this time it landed.

“You’re a traitor?” Hero breathed when Flynn smiled up at them. “You’re one of them?! That’s why supervillain knows every move before we make it…”

Flynn put his two hands behind his head, grinning up at Hero with a charming smile. “I always did love when the mystery was solved in the end. Especially by you, that look on your face.”

“We were friends!” Hero snarled, fists grabbing the collar of Flynn’s shirt to make him listen. This wasn’t some game or joke they could just disregard. How could they be so calm? This couldn’t be happening. Everyone loved Flynn, everyone. He was always so nice.  

“We are friends, dear Hero.”

“Not if you do this. Not if you’re one of them. Sidekick got hurt because of you!”

“And they’ll heal, won’t they? I warned them not to be put their nose in other people’s business.”

Hero sagged a bit. Their grip loosening.

“Are you going to take my memory?” Hero whispered quietly.

Flynn’s gaze softened and he put a gentle hand on Hero’s wrist. “No. I would never use my powers on you. It would take away all the fun.”

Hero’s eyes widened in surprise.

“But… but I know now. I’ll tell Superhero— do you want to be found out?”

Flynn’s smile turned secretive, like he knew something Hero didn’t. “No, you won’t.”

Hero stared at him; mouth open in silent confusion. Which all ended when they felt cold metal press against the back of their skull. Flynn beamed at someone behind Hero, then fixed his smug gaze on Hero’s eyes.

“You won’t because you’re coming with us.”

*~*~*~*~*

Read part one here

Continued from here

*~*~*~*~*

Hero threw their arms wide as they strut onto the roof in a gesture of questioning: “hey! What the fuck are ya doing?”

That got Villain’s attention. Violet eyes snapped to theirs, floating a couple metres off the roof. Out of reach for Hero.

“Silent treatment? Really? You just tried to kill a kid, Villain.”

“Superhero’s new sidekick. I did warn them about the mortality rate of such a job before I dropped them,” Villain said with a shrug. Hero looked back over their shoulder at the sound of the roof door opening and Sidekick stepping out, fury winding all of their limbs tight.

“See?” Villain said, getting Hero’s attention again. The Villain’s hand was spread to Sidekick’s appearance. “They’re fine!”

Hero rolled their eyes, scoffing. “Is that supposed to be a justification for attempted murder?”

Hero felt the strong invisible hand wrap around them and yank them up into the air straight into Villain’s awaiting arms.

“Maybe I just don’t like the company they keep,” said Villain, grabbing Hero by the lapels of their duster and pulling them close.

Villain’s nose crinkled up as they said: “you smell like whiskey and cigarettes.”

“It was never a problem before. In fact, I think I remember you enjoying the smell at one point,” said Hero with their dashing smile reserved for only Villain.

“Why are you running around with Superhero’s new scapegoat?”

“Why are you disturbing these good people just trying to do their jobs?” Hero shot back.

“I am a Villain, my dear. It is what we do.”

“And I am a hero, at your every public beck and call. To make sure you don’t do irrevocable damage. Such as killing a child,” Hero admonished and yelped as they felt Villain’s power vanish from under them and they were falling.

Villain held them with one hand over the precipice in their usual showmanship of power. Hero narrowed their eyes and shifted their weight, so they were almost a perfect 45-degree angle to the ground thirteen stories below.

A challenge coated their words as they spread their arms wide, “if you want to kill anyone Villain, do us both a favour and kill me.”

Villain searched Hero’s face for any weakness. Any sign that they were lying and found none. The next thing Hero knows wind is whistling through their ears, stopping only when their back cracks off brickwork and they crumbled to the ground hands catching themselves on the ground, gasping for the air that was wrenched from their lungs.

“Hero!” Sidekick yelled in surprise from the opposite roof.

Hero barely had time to force themselves to stand again before Villain was in front of them, fist bunching in the collar of their shirt. Villain threw a solid left hook. Hero countered, taking the brunt on their forearm before an invisible hand grabbed Hero’s wrist yanking it above their head and keeping it there. Hero’s toes barely scraping the roof below them.

“No fair,” said Hero with a grunt, levelling Villain with a knowing scorn.

Villain’s smile was more of a snarl as they said: “when have I ever played fair?”

Hero threw their other hand out, but Villain caught it and slammed it back against the brick wall, drawing another grunt from Hero. Villain stepped in close, close enough that Hero felt Villain’s breath on their face as those violet eyes peered down at Hero, tightening their grip on Hero’s wrist.

“You look good, Vil,” said Hero softly. “What happened that made you rage against these innocent people today, hmm?”

Villain’s free hand settled on Hero’s cheek and Hero leaned into the touch. “I don’t need a reason.”

“We both know you’re not like that,” Hero said, smiling sadly.

Suddenly Hero was released, and they dropped to their feet, knees bent. Villain was recoiling to the side, hand on their cheek as a once invisible Sidekick became visible again.

“You alright?” Sidekick asked as Hero straightened and nodded.

“Yes. Thank you.”

“You looked like you needed help,” Sidekick said, a little breathless and Hero searched the opposite roof wondering how Sidekick had got there so fast but didn’t question it. They could ask later.

Hero fixed their jacket, rolling their neck as Villain’s gaze turned to face the pair. “I had it handled.”

“Sure, you did,” and Sidekick was invisible again. Villain’s eyes burned like the cold fires of hell down at Hero and Hero shrugged with a smirk.

“Kid’s annoying,” said Hero. “But sure, what can you do?”

“Drop them off a building again. Maybe it will work this time.”

“Probably not,” Hero said with a flash of their teeth. “Not as long as I’m here.”

“Well then perhaps I will force you to watch,” said Villain as they shot their hand out. Hero sucked in a breath and felt the pop in their ears as they reappeared behind Villain. They whistled and Villain turned. Hero threw a punch which Villain caught, clenching their hand down around Hero’s fist and stepping forward, pushing Hero back. “You always did think I relied too much on my power.”

“Eh,” Hero shrugged with tired eyes. “It’s an off day.”

Villain’s eyes narrowed, their tone dipping dangerous as they turned Hero’s arm. “Maybe you should have answered my texts then and we could have arranged this on a non-drinking day for you.”

“Come on, Vil. You know me better,” Hero said with a toothy grin. “They are no non-drinking days.”

Villain pulled Hero in and brought a sharp knee to Hero’s stomach. Hero gasped, as Villain leaned in. “We’ll sober you up yet. Just like our academy days, huh Hero?”

The comment had barely registered when Villain squeezed Hero’s fist with their hand, their force backed by Villain’s unfair power.

“No wait, Villain—” Hero protested just before there was a resounding crack over the roof. Hero screamed bloody murder as Villain kicked them back, and unable to catch themselves, Hero stumbled back and fell, their head hitting off the stone roof. White spots burst behind their vision as Hero shuffled back on their good arm. “Motherfucker!”

Hero looked down at their hand, their index and middle finger bent backwards. A deep purple and black colouring the battered flesh. They had to get off the ground. Hero sucked in a sharp breath closing their eyes. Then a boot came to their chin and Hero cursed as their world rocked and their head hit the ground again.

A headache was already forming, and Hero just wanted to lie on the ground and give up then and there. Then he thought of Sidekick who would no doubt lecture them which would only make their headache worse. A rock and a hard place, headache, or worse headache. Before they could decide, Villain stomped on Hero’s ribs, and Hero’s eyes shot open. Their good hand pushing at Villain’s ankle to alleviate the pressure.

“No popping out if your brain’s clouded with pain, ain’t that right Hero?”

“Normal people just say: I missed you,” Hero hissed, they let out a harsh cough. “They don’t try and kill you.”

“What can I say? I’m not normal people,” said Villain with a smile of their own. Then their hand shot out on instinct and Sidekick reappeared two feet away, gasping on no air. Their hands went to their throat with wide eyes. Hero sat up suddenly, but Villain just put more pressure on their leg keeping Hero pinned. “No. No. Don’t get up. Stay.”

“Let them go, Villain!” Hero cried. Sidekick dropped to their knees, face going purple as they choked on nothing, hands clawing desperately at their throat.

Villain tilted their head at Sidekick’s struggles. Hero reached their hand into their pocket, taking out their lighter. “It’s not every day I don’t kill someone first try. The last, and not to blow my own trumpet, but only time that happened Sidekick was with…” Villain turned back to Hero. “Well, was you, dearest.”

Hero shot their hand out, setting fire to Villain’s trouser leg that was currently weighing on Hero’s ribs. Villain gasped, concentration broken, stepping back and Sidekick sucked in a lungful of air. Hero looked at Villain.

“I’ll be back,” they said to Villain as they lunged for Sidekick’s arm, hand clamping around their wrist. Hero closed their eyes, sucking in a breath.

Then pop.

Read part one here

*~*~*~*~*

“Villain.”

The hero didn’t shout it. They didn’t need to. Villain would hear them fine even over all the destruction and screaming and emergency services. Hero just stared from the street up at Villain and Villain looked down at Hero. Hero lifted their hand in a wave and then pulled the cigarette from their lips, exhaling a lungful of smoke.

“Hero –” sidekick began but Hero shook their head.

“It’s okay kid. I got it from here,” Hero said still staring at Villain. “So, you gonna invite me up or do I have to climb twelve flights of stairs?”

Villain just stared. Sidekick moved forward, suddenly hesitant in bringing Hero here. Just as they opened their mouth to say it to Hero, Sidekick was wrenched into the sky by an invisible hand and suddenly Hero and the street were below them.

“Fucking shit,” Hero cursed, flicking their cigarette to the ground as they started running to the apartment building to the left of Villain and taking the stairs two at a time.

Villain stared at Sidekick with a probing, scientific kind of curiosity, like they were able to look under Sidekick's skin and unravel all their secrets with enough determination.

“You’re new,” Villain purred. Their voice like liquid silver dancing its way through the sky to Sidekick’s ears sending a shiver down their spine.

“Yeah. I’m Superhero’s sidekick.”

Villain tilted their head to the side and asked, voice deadpan, “do you know the mortality rate of Superhero’s previous sidekicks?”

Sidekick stared Villain in the eye as they said, “I do.”

“And you took the job anyways?”

“I did.”

“Hmm. Not very chatty. You remind me of an old friend of mine.”

“Forgive me, I don't usually chitchat while floating this high in the air."

"Hmm," Villain rumbled, "how about falling?"

For a single terrifying moment, Sidekick felt gravity's effects on them, yanking them back to earth and they gasped, reaching forward and grabbing Villain's leg like their life depended it.

"NO! Nononononononononono, wait! FUCK!" Sidekick cried as their grip on Villain faltered and they slipped. They fell an inch further in the air before they were suspended again, this time with their back to the ground below, staring up at Villain with wide frightened eyes. The only thing keeping them from the hard tarmac below thirteen stories below and being alive.

Villain turned over in the air, rolling onto their stomach and lying like a schoolgirl on their stomach with two hands supporting their head as they grinned down at Sidekick, drinking in their fear.

"You sound just like my favourite hero, Sidekick. I knew letting you fall would loosen your tongue a bit."

Villain was fucking insane, Sidekick realised, their heart still pounding like a rabbits at seeing a hungry dog catch their eye.

"Hero, I’m guessing?" Sidekick said eventually, though their voice still came out higher than it should have.

Villain smiled a fond smile that went to their eyes and lit up their entire face. “Yes. My dear cantankerous hero, so foul-mouthed."

“I met them today," Sidekick said, just trying to keep Villain talking and keep themselves suspended until Hero was able to talk Villain into hopefully letting Sidekick go. Where the fuck were they?

Villain's interest was piqued and they dove slightly towards Sidekick, grabbing Sidekick by the collar of their shirt and sitting on their waist, legs dangling over either side. Somehow, Villain made sure that even flying in the air, Sidekick could still feel the restrictive weight of Villain on top of them.

"And what did you think of them?" Villain asked.

What did Sidekick think of Hero?

"They were... difficult," was the first word that came to mind. Villain grinned and nodded sagely, agreeing with Sidekick as if it was a sacred moment.

“Nothing easy is worth having, Sidekick. Some parting advice.”

“You’re letting me go?”

“Oh yes,” said Villain with a disarming smile. “Quite literally.”

Sidekick didn’t have time to process Villain’s words before Villain shoved Sidekick down below them and wind rushed through their clothes, through their hair, through them as they fell like a comet to earth. This was how they died.

Then their momentum stopped suddenly, and they were swinging into a brick wall, their arm yanked out of its socket and Sidekick cried out in pain. Craning their neck up, they tried glancing up to see Hero above them, leaning half out a broken window, two feet planted on the sill and pulled Sidekick up despite their cries and cursing.

“God, I know. I’m sorry Sidekick. You shouldn’t have been here, god where the fuck is Superhero in all this!” Hero pulled Sidekick in the window and into their chest before stepping back and setting Sidekick down on the window sill.

“Fucking what the fuck?!” Sidekick mewled cradling their arm to their chest.

“I'm sorry, Villain doesn’t usually act like this,” Hero told them.

Sidekick blinked, pain lancing through their shoulder and down into their chest. “What?”

“They don’t usually act this way. First impressions are everything, but I swear there’s good in them.”

Sidekick blinked at Hero, shaking their head. “You’re defending them?!”

“Well, it’s my fault you see. This whole temper tantrum. I haven’t been returning their texts.”

“You haven’t—” Sidekick asked, then blinked and let out an exasperated “what?!”

“Your shoulder—” Hero said. “It’s dislocated.”

“No fucking shit!" Sidekick mewled. "You yanked it out of its socket!”

“Would you rather be a splat on the concrete? Cause I can still push you out the damn window, kid.”

Sidekick walked to the stairwell, fury and pain mixing in their heavy breaths as they braced themselves against the wall. Hero stepped forward a warning on their lips: “kid, I wouldn’t do th—”

It was too late. Sidekick had already thrown themselves against the wall. A resounding pop echoed throughout the stairs, followed by a sharp shriek of pain from Sidekick as they slid down the wall, breathing harshly through gritted teeth.

Hero opened their mouth, but Sidekick just held up a finger from their good arm and wagged it in Hero’s stupid face: “don’t. Say. A thing.”

Sidekick braced themselves against the wall, sliding up it with a groan of pain and rolled their shoulder. Forwards. Backwards. Then they set their furious eyes on Hero and without a word turned and started ascending the stairwell to the roof.

Hero laughed, stunned at the kid’s resilience, and followed them up the stairs. “Do you want some—”

“Just shut the hell up,” Sidekick said, kicking the door to the roof open and looking down pointedly at Hero who was midway through taking a bag of sweets from their pocket. “And go out and do your job.”

“Yes boss,” Hero said with a smile, putting a fizzy lace through their teeth. They emerged onto the roof, arms spread wide and yelled: “Hey! What the fuck are ya doing?” to Villain who was no doubt still floating in the sky, and Sidekick sat down heavy on the steps and took a few deep breaths.

They nearly just died.

Villain almost just killed them.

They would have killed them if not for Hero, and all they wanted to do was cry, but they were too angry.

“Just go out and do your job,” Sidekick chastised themselves, standing and wiping the remnants of tear trails from their cheeks before joining Hero on the roof.

Crying could come later if they lived that long.

*~*~*~*~*

Is this title my cheeky little nod at EPIC the musical? Absolutely, enjoyyyyy!

*~*~*~*~*

The heroes came running when the world was on fire. They always came running. Hero was at the bar, where they always were, watching the news. A neat whiskey clutched between bandaged fingers.

The door slammed open. Hero didn’t have to turn to know it was Superhero’s sidekick. “Hero –”

“Not interested.”

“But Villain –”

“I know. Don’t care,” Hero replied. Daryl, the bartender, shot Hero a look and Hero pretended to not see it.

Sidekick sat on the stool next to Hero and ordered another: “whiskey; neat.”

“Mmm, I love being bribed,” Hero smiled, winking at Daryl.

“Villain’s destroying the city.”

“I didn’t ask.”

“And you’re here, drinking.”

“Perceptive,” Hero purred, taking the whiskey glass from Daryl and pouring the honey liquid of it into their glass. “They’re a minor,” Hero whispered to Daryl conspiratorially.

“I’m not.”

“Well, then. You’re on the clock. Can’t fight crime if you’re impaired.”

“And yet somehow you manage.”

“Somehow, I’m always called in on my day off. Blame your boss for disrupting my plans. Not the other way around, sunshine.”

Hero took a sip of their drink. In their peripheral vision they saw Sidekick turn their body to face Hero. Mmm, getting serious. Hero loved serious Sidekick. It’s like a puppy trying to be mean.

“You know Villain best –”

“Bullshit. Your Superhero knows them longest.”

“Villain likes you best,” Sidekick amended, and Hero nodded.

“So? Are we match making heroes and villains now? Is that Superhero’s excuse, hmm? Will that same explanation slide if I come up against a new villain?” Hero put on a high-pitched voice as they said: “oh I’m sorry superhero. This new villain’s rising sign is Virgo. I’m a Scorpio, we’re gonna clash.”

“This is different, and you know it.”

“How is this different? Because your beloved Superhero says so? Are you just a little dog with no mind of your own? Does Superhero whistle and you come?”

“I’m not here to trade insults, Hero. God knows that could well be your superpower,” Hero took the words as a compliment as the kid continued: “I’m here to ask you to help me stop people’s lives being ruined. Normal people’s lives. Fuck Superhero. Fuck villain. Fuck the whole fucking system. I’m here to ask you, to help me. Please.”

Hero looked at Daryl and Daryl looked at them. Hero rolled their eyes and tipped their head back, the whiskey running hot down their aching throat. Then they stood. Empty glass on the bar. Hero shrugged their trench coat on and patted Sidekick’s shoulder fondly.

“Pay Daryl for me will ya? And a big tip, for the inconvenience. See you tomorrow, Daryl,” Hero waved over their shoulder. Whistling as they walked out the door of their local pub.

“Thanks Daryl,” Sidekick said, paying the man and leaving a generous tip.

“Thank me all you want kid. Hero’ll just be back in here after the fight. It’s good to see them getting out, even if it is under these circumstances. Y’know ever since –”

“I know, Daryl. Thanks.”

“Later kid.”

Sidekick followed Hero out the door, where Hero was waiting a lit cigarette hanging from their lips.

“So,” Hero asked, flicking their zippo lighter shut with a satisfying click, shooting Sidekick their signature lazy smirk. “What’s Villain up to today?”

*~*~*~*~*

They walked in silence except for their shoes crunching off of gravel. That was fine. Killian had been through enough already today and last night, and Heath didn’t really want him to talk, he just felt like Killian needed to.

Or Killian was going to talk anyways once he found the right words. There was the taste of anticipation heavy in the air between them, but Heath was fine with basking in the silence for now. Happy to let Killian mull it over as they walked down the archway of trees that lined the driveway to Felix’s estate. It was rather beautiful, a perfect place to wander and ponder, a good place to find words to speak.

The light was filtering through the tree’s leaves like shattered gem shards of topaz and the birds were chirping in the trees. It was shaping up to be a nice day, and with it, Heath felt a heavy longing for his mortality and let out a soft sigh.

“You…” Killian began, then faltered and stopped when Heath looked at him. “Thank you for everything you did, uh, did for me back there.”

“No problem,” said Heath easily in reply.

Killian spoke again and said: “no. I mean—” then he sighed and broke off again, so Heath stopped walking and turned to face the boy, pulling his little metal cigarette case from his back pocket.

Killian looked at Heath, an embarrassed blush colouring his cheekbones, right above where Wolfe had sliced into his cheek with his claw. Heath focused on the dried blood caked under the wound from the coagulation in his blood as he lit the cigarette between his teeth.

“I feel like “Thank you” isn’t enough for what you did for me.”

“It is enough.”

“No,” Killian protested, meeting Heath’s eyes with his blue ones and then looking away sheepishly, a hand going to the nape of his neck and rubbing it. “It isn’t. You said you would protect my s— my family no matter what happened…”

Heath nodded, exhaling smoke through his nostrils. “It’s what I would have wanted someone to do for me.”

“But you meant it…” Killian said, like it was a challenge and a gift much too sentimental and overwhelming for knowing someone for such a short time. “You said you would protect her— even after I didn’t tell you my first name or—”

“Hey, kid. It’s okay,” said Heath, voice gentle as he extended his hand to Killian. Killian looked up at Heath’s face then down at his hand and took it in his. The warmth of Killian’s palm was almost addictive, Heath longed for that comfort. He doubted Killian even valued how much his body worked to make sure it was heated at all times, not too hot, not too cold just perfect human temperature. Heath knew he never appreciated it, not until it was too late.

Something settled over Killian’s features, resolute and accepting as he gave Heath’s cold dead hand a good, firm shake.

Heath smiled softly, a little sadly, then dropped Killian’s hand.

“I was in the same position as you,” Heath continued, turning to walk further away from Felix’s mansion and prying ears. Killian easily fell into step beside him.

“In debt to Felix for family reasons that don’t matter anymore because my family is dead. Felix tried to tell me that before I signed my soul to him, but I refused to listen,” Heath said, voice turning wry towards the end of the sentence. He shot a smile over to Killian whose eyebrows were knitted together in sympathy. “Who knew, right?”

Heath took another long inhale of smoke into his lungs, filling his dead tissue husk with the burnt remnants of tobacco. Somehow the two dead things twisted and combining together warmed him and made him feel as close to alive as he was ever going to get.

Except for maybe blood… blood sang to every nerve and muscle and organ in his body, craved it, clung to it, and was never satisfied no matter how much or how little he drank. The point of satiation would be producing his own blood in his body, like back when he was, y’know— alive, and that wasn’t ever going to happen so yes.

Blood and, a close second, smoking cigarettes, made him feel alive.

Or as alive as he could feel.

He remembered last night. His old knife in his hand, his blood lighting up the runes of the Hunters’ blade. Remembered his heart beating and the blood rushing through his ears like phantom limbs. Remembered the rush of breathlessness as he sunk the blade into Wolfe’s strong body and watched him crumble around it.

Remembered zoning out during the Hunter’s high and crashing back into his body with a wave of nausea and exhaustion hitting him like a truck.

Heath knew he was made to kill vampires, as all Hunters are. As the Immortal Hunter he knew he would spend eternity fighting and killing every last bloodsucker on the planet, protecting humans as best as he could, and when all the vampires are dead, so too could Heath rest in peace eternally.

That was his purpose.

His sole mission.

When Felix killed him, he thought that was the end. That he failed and he doomed humanity to endure the vile, ruthless creatures in the night with no protector.

Wolfe yesterday seemed like a test, like the world was trying to figure out if he really wasn’t the immortal Hunter anymore, or if he was.

Heath nearly scoffed at his own thoughts. “Like the world was trying to figure out…” if the world was currently sitting at his dining table enjoying breakfast with Celeste and went by the name of Victor, then yes, as Felix would like to think of himself, the world really wanted to answer that burning question, and answer it he did.

It gave Heath something he forgot he ever had.

Hope.

Hope that one day, someday soon, he could repay Felix the favour of death and be able to continue this life without having to suffer sadistic vampire.

Heath paused in his steps, eyes staring at the gravel road in front of him. Killian stopped too, looking over his shoulder at Heath. Heath realised he looked a bit crazy then, so he tapped his cigarette and watched the ashes flutter to the ground, mixing with the wide-ranging palette of small grey stones.

The worst part was that Heath remembered. He remembered gripping the knife as Killian helped him to his feet, remembered holding onto it like a lifeline. He pushed Killian away and then tried to take a step and collapsed, and the knife…

“Heath? You okay?”

“Mmm,” Heath grumbled in reply. Maroon eyes finding inquisitive human ones peering back at him.

“The dagger that I killed Wolfe with,” Heath said, tilting his head, “did you see what I did with it?”

Killian turned to face Heath, folding his arms across his chest. “You— well, Felix told me it was part of some ritual you needed to complete.”

Heath let out a huff of breath from his nostrils, shaking his head. “I must have dropped it when I collapsed,” Heath said, taking in a quick puff of his cigarette. “Did you hear it clatter?”

“What’s so important about it?”

“It’s — uh, it’s like an extension of the Hunter’s arm. Very sacred, the dagger and the blood of a Hunter are what—” Heath looked at Killian and smiled, not wanting to get into it in detail. “Sorry. Long story short, it kills vampires.”

Killian frowned. “And Felix had it?”

“Yes,” Heath said with an exhale of smoke, slipping the cigarette between his teeth. “He did. But if you didn’t hear it clatter to the ground then Felix must have it again…”

“I doubt he’s the type to just leave it lying around, even if you did drop it.”

“You’d be right,” Heath said, stretching his hands to the sky and cracking his back, letting out a loud satisfied sigh as his wound up muscles loosened and cartilage cracked. “Ah, problem for another day. We can worry about that later.”

Heath started walking down the tree lined drive again with Killian following and falling into step beside him. “How can you be so nonchalant about that? Can’t that knife kill you?”

Heath shrugged. “A lot of things can kill me. That knife is not one of them. It’s the whole point of Hunter’s blood being needed for the dagger to work. Otherwise, it’s just a normal knife. If it killed Hunters, it wouldn’t be that useful.”

“But you’re a vampire now,” Killian said, and Heath’s dead heart stuttered at the blatant truth so easily flowing from Killian’s lips. “From what Felix was saying today you, well, it seemed like you should still be human.”

“Mmm, first of my kind. I’m truly unique.”

“Does it not scare you?”

“Death?” Heath asked with a breath of laughter. He stopped waking, took the last pull of his cigarette, down to the butt, close enough for his fingers to feel the burn before dropping it and extinguishing it beneath his shoe. “That’s a bit too philosophical of a topic for a Thursday morning, Killian.”

“No, I mean—” Heath smiled and put a hand on Killian’s shoulder silencing him.

“I know what you mean but trust me when I say that there are things worse than death when it comes to Victor Felix. You almost experienced it firsthand last night.”

“I… Wolfe attacked me last night; he was the one who took me and tied me up in the basement. He was the one who hurt me and—”

“Felix was the one willing to let Wolfe turn you or torture you to prove a point to me.”

The corner of Killian’s lips turned down into a scowl. “I’m not a pawn to be played in your and Felix’s game.”

“No, you’re not,” said Heath straightening up and taking his hand from Killian’s shoulder, to run it through his hair. “I’m just saying you should be more careful about what jobs you take for Felix.”

Killian went silent after that, and Heath didn’t press him further on it as they walked out of the imposing wrought iron gates that sealed the estate away from the local town.

The gates that made it such a formidable foe when Heath was running, trying to escape Felix in the night. Worn and tired, human lungs gasping for air and heart pounding blood and adrenaline to fuel his body. He remembered coming up to see the always open gates shut and padlocked tight with chains.

He remembers shaking the gate and cursing under his breath and then throwing caution to the wind, gripping the iron bars, and pulling himself up. He had only got a foot off the ground when a hand tightened in the back of his shirt, clenching the fabric into bunched up cold fist.

Heath froze.

He remembers hearing the low tsk of Felix and the smile in his voice. Felix didn’t do anything else. That small contact was enough to humiliate Heath, show him how powerless he really was.

“You can come back willingly, and I promise I’ll only bleed you a little,” Felix purred, voice as deadly as Heath’s vampire slaying blade. He remembers tightening his grip on the bars until his knuckles turned white. Heath pressed his forehead against the cold bars, lamenting his freedom which was right there in front of him. He could’ve reached out and grabbed it.

If he was fast enough.

If he was strong enough.

If he was better.

Heath shuddered out a shaky exhale, feeling less of Felix’s cold dead hands on him. Unnatural hands.

“Or you can do this in your own special way, Heath,” Felix continued, voice almost fond. “In your penchant for raising Cain and really make me work up an appetite…”

Heath let out a pathetic cry of frustration into the night, rattling the gates along with his scream at the gates that were closed to him by Felix, for Felix’s own amusement. He liked his prey to run, he had told Heath that much after he tried to run so many times, told him he liked the high that adrenaline gives to the blood. Makes it sweeter, almost frenzied.

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop feeding on you after you pass out if that’s the route you want to take, and you know, I would have to punish you for running away again once you wake up. You’ve been so good for me lately, Heath…” Felix’s fingers walked up Heath’s spine as far as they could and yanked Heath off the gate as if he wasn’t holding on at all.

Heath’s feet had barely hit the ground when in a flash he was pressed against the gate, his cheekbone digging into the metal as Felix rested his now clawed fingers on the nape of Heath’s neck. Heath pushed with all his might and struggled to get Felix off him, but Felix didn’t falter. It was as if Heath wasn’t struggling at all.

Felix leaned in and sniffed Heath’s neck, smiling against the thin skin between his major veins and arteries, pumping the blood, the terror, the adrenaline, the life through his veins.

“Hard way it is,” he hummed, yanking Heath off the gates and dragging him away from them, kicking and fighting and screaming. “Dear boy, a chase and a fight and a feast. You’re really spoiling me tonight.”

Heath remembered it like it was yesterday. It feels like it was yesterday. Or maybe it was the fact that even after Felix took his humanity and turned him into an unnatural immortal thing, last night when it came down to it, when it came to Heath being able to protect Killian from Wolfe and Felix’s schemes, he couldn’t do a thing to stop them.

The moment Felix threw a casual arm over his shoulder and wrapped it tight around his torso he knew he couldn’t fight him off, let alone Wolfe.

His humanity, his dignity, and his family— all traded for eternity as a leech, and still he was too weak to fight off the sadistic fucker who took everything he loved from him and left him with nothing except misery.

Heath looked at Killian walking beside him and he hated himself because he knew even now that the only reason Killian was walking with him back home, and not still tied up in Felix’s basement, is so Felix could dangle another good thing in Heath’s life to rip away. To leverage against him, to torture him with, to keep him in check and make sure he behaves.

Or else, went unsaid.

Behave or else Killian dies, or gets turned, or something worse that Felix could conjure up in his twisted mind. Heath just knew whatever it was would involve suffering.

The worst part was that as far as Felix was dangling another good thing in front of him, Heath was too stubborn or too stupid to not take the bait and get in too deep.

Maybe their sick little game was doomed to continue for eternity, with new calamity as collateral with every new generation of humans.

“My home is just…” Killian began, tearing Heath from his thoughts. Killian stopped himself short, glancing over his shoulder at Heath. Heath nodded encouragingly, waiting for the answer for a beat too long before he realised, and a smile spread across his face.

Heath nodded again, tilting his head at Killian. “You don’t want to tell me.”

“No,” said Killian after careful thought. “I don’t.”

“That’s okay.”

“Is it?”

“It is. Can you promise me you’ll get home safe?”

“Yes.”

“Can you promise Felix won’t come after you?”

Killian hesitated. Heath nodded and said, “then I’m coming, kid. Trust me it’s safer for us both.”

“How is it safer for me?” Killian demanded, nostrils flaring stepping closer to Heath, squaring up slightly. Heath grinned showing his fangs and took a small bit of sick pleasure at the slight falter on Killian’s face.

Heath stepped forward, closing the gap, exposing Heath’s clear height advantage, and stared down at Killian waiting for him to back down.

Killian didn’t.

Despite it all.

He didn’t back down and Heath couldn’t help letting out a soft happy laughter.

Killian frowned. “What?”

“I’m just impressed is all.”

“Thank you?” Killian asked.

Heath shook his head. “Never impress a vampire, Killian. If you listen to anything I say, listen to that. They’re obsessive things. Possessive things. They’ll steal your life to keep you because you’re entertaining.”

“You’re barely a vampire. You’re basically human.”

Heath sighed. “I was never human. I was a hunter, and then I was a vampire. Such is life. Now, you can either agree to show me where you live or I can wait — trust me, immortality gives you great patience — and I will follow you home when you eventually relent to check on your family —”

“Okay!” Killian huffed, throwing his hands up helplessly. “Fine! Why do you want to know so badly anyways?!”

Heath felt his face grow solemn, eyes turning poignant and lips almost pouting.

“I want to make sure Wolfe is dead and not coming for revenge, and I want to make sure Felix doesn’t come and take you away in the night. I don’t even need to go inside, just… let me watch over you tonight, and your family. Keep you safe.”

“I have work in the morning,” Killian said.

Heath shrugged, “then I’ll walk you to work.”

“You can’t protect me every minute of every day,” Killian reasoned, and Heath just shrugged again.

“I can try.”

Killian huffed, crossing his arms across his chest. “Is this another Hunter ritual thing?”

Heath smiled, a small genuine smile. “Yeah, something like that…”

Killian nodded, then turned and started walking. He gestured over his shoulder for Heath to follow and Heath did so in a comfortable silence, listening to the boy as he rambled on about how annoying the walk to work is in the morning, or when it’s raining.

“What can I say,” Heath said easily. “I’m an honest kind of guy,” then he plunged the knife deep into Wolfe’s heart.

Heath relished in the wide grey eyed surprise of the bastard who had orchestrated his own demise. He wouldn’t admit it later on, but Heath even smiled.

He stuck the blade in nice and deep, and still holding the handle followed the momentum through, his other hand grabbing Wolfe’s shoulder and pushing him onto his back with Heath breathing heavily over him.

It was strange being a vampire. He had no heartbeat, yet he swore there was something slamming against his chest, thundering euphoria around his body. His ears, which shouldn’t have a pulse, pounded like an exalted drumming, drunk on the thrill of the kill of another rotten bloodsucker. The hunter’s high was always a little unhinged, but in that moment Heath didn’t care.

His body responded as if it was still alive. Adrenaline keeping him going, not blood from last night’s party. He sucked in a deep breath through his nose, eyes closing in a moment of bliss.

He missed this.

“Heath?”

Heath’s head turned with a hyper energy to the sound, where his unfocused eyes found Killian tied to the chair staring at him with human eyes full of uncertain fear.

Killian shouldn’t be afraid, the voice in his head said. His heart still beats. He is sacred.

Heath stood from Wolfe’s body and turned full to face Killian now, ears homed in on his heartbeat speeding up. Which was ridiculous. Heath would never hurt a hair on his head.

Heath bowed to Killian, knife flat on his two outstretched palms.

“An offering,” someone said. Who wasn’t important to Heath. No all that mattered was that precious human life he saved. “I’ve heard of the hunter’s high, but I thought it was a myth.”

“The hunter’s high?” Killian asked.

“It happens after a hunter kills a vampire when saving a human life. It’s like a high we could never begin to understand. This is his promise to you.”

“Promise?”

“You need to accept the knife to complete the ritual.”

A pause.

“Oh wait, your hands– let me…”

There was the sound of ropes being cut, then falling limply to the floor.

“I just take the knife?” Killian asked.

“No. Well yes, don’t take it from him. Just grab the handle. It’s like a thank you, if you want to think of it like that.”

“I thank him for saving my life?”

“No. He thanks you for giving him the opportunity to slay another vampire. Do it. Now.”

A pair of black runners appeared in Heath’s view. Not that he could really register it, but in a faraway part of his brain he recognised them as Killian’s from the day before.

Then there was a warm hand on his, fingers wrapping around the hilt of the blade and Heath wrapped his hand around the owner’s human hand.

Then it felt like Heath crashed back down onto his own body.

He looked up at Killian who looked down at him with a weary expression, as if he was afraid Heath might hurt him. Heath frowned, eyes flicking to Felix who stood behind the chair Killian was tied to, watching the exchange with that awful cat like interest that made Heath’s stomach turn.

“Heath?” Killian asked, and Heath looked back at him. Heard his heart beating. He was still alive.

Heath got to his feet with Killian’s help, feeling very weak from the Hunter’s return. He looked down at Wolfe’s grey ashen body at his feet, blood seeping steadily into a stream from his wound.

“Ah fuck,” Heath muttered, looking over his shoulder at Felix. “I didn’t mean to kill him.”

Felix waved the death of his friend away as if it was spilled milk.

“Don’t be daft. I never liked him anyways. Let’s have breakfast, I’m famished. Killian will you join us for breakfast? Please do. Actually, as your boss I insist. I hope the cook prepares some pastries. I feel like a nice croissant right about now.”

Felix kept talking and gesturing as he walked out of the door to the basement and waited there, holding it open for the others to follow.

“Are you okay to walk?” Killian asked after Heath let him go.

“Yeah. I’m fine. Don’t worry about it,” Heath said, then took an independent step and collapsed. Killian was bent double trying to catch him, but before Heath hit the floor Felix had a hand under him, putting Heath’s arm over his shoulder and helping him out of the basement. “Shit,” Heath whispered as his head swam. The rush from the Hunter’s high zapping his energy.

“Hush, dear boy,” Felix said quietly enough so only Heath could hear, “I got you.” Heath didn’t have the energy to argue or repress the shudder at Felix’s old pet name for him, and just let Felix half carry him out of the room.

Felix didn’t turn as he said over his shoulder, “Chop chop Killian.”

Heath heard an immediate: “Yes sir.”

Then he zoned out knowing Killian was safe and let Felix guide him to the dining room.

Celeste was already at the dining table, knife and fork in hand, hair in a simple low bun and she didn’t as much raise a brow when the three men arrived. On the table before her was a small feast of pancakes, fruit, bread and pastries that still had steam rising from them.

“You’re just in time,” she said simply. “The pastries only arrived.”

Killian walked through the door after Felix and Heath. Following Felix around the table after he had deposited Heath onto the chair next to Celeste, and then sat at the head of the table on her other side. Killian sat opposite Celeste on the other side of Felix, her perfect eyebrows raised at that.

“Oh hello. You must be Felix’s new employee. I’m Celeste.”

“Celeste, Killian. Killian, Celeste. We’re all acquainted now let’s eat,” said Felix plating himself some pastries from the table and a side of grapes.

“I’m sorry you’re in debt to him,” she said as Killian sat down and Killian nodded in response. “You have a bruise on your cheek, and a cut… and blood on your shirt and nose. Felix, did you do that?”

“I would never.”

“No. A guy named Wolfe,” said Killian.

“Oh,” Celeste said her voice taking an edge to it as she looked to Heath at her side who was a little out of it. “You’re lucky to be alive.”

“I’ll remember that,” Killian said, taking a croissant and biting into it. “It’s all thanks to Heath.”

“Defender of the Humans that man,” Celeste said with a secret smile. She dropped her voice conspiratorially and added, “He must like you.”

“I don’t,” Heath said, voice raw, reaching across Celeste and taking a pancake from her plate.

“Now that’s a lie,” Felix said, eyes on Heath even as he continued talking with Celeste. “You should have seen him down there, Celeste. He was exquisitely noble.”

“When is he not?”

Heath grunted in response. Killian for his part was mostly famished and weirded out by the three vampires sitting before him. He ate quietly, every now and then grabbing something when his plate was empty as they fell into silence.

“Tell me,” Felix began, cutting a pancake with his knife and fork and easing a piece to his mouth, “Did you know he was the Immortal hunter?”

Celeste froze for a split second, imperceptible to the human eye, the brief halting pause in her limbs. A split second was all it was, but that was all it needed to be for Felix to notice. Silence descended on the table, even Killian stopped chewing as he noticed the change in tone at the table. Felix’s eyes were sharp as a feline’s as he watched Celeste process the information.

“Yes. I was shocked too. I would have thought he’d tell you of all people,” Felix said conversationally, as if he didn’t just drop the bomb of the century on her over breakfast.

“I’m right here,” Heath said. His eyes were shut, his head tilted back on the chair and staring at the ceiling.

“Would you prefer we talk behind your back?” Felix asked.

“I’d prefer if I didn’t have to hear your voice for another decade, Victor.”

“You wound me. It’s not even 9 a.m.”

“I’ve had a long day,” Heath said. He looked at Killian then from across the table. “As have you. Would you like me to walk you home?”

“Heath –” Felix began but was cut off immediately by Heath’s chair scraping against the hardwood floor.

“Give him the day off. It’s my treat. Plus, I’ll be here to wait on you hand and foot.”

Felix shrugged in response. “Fine,” he said in an exhale. “However, me and Celeste will be talking about you behind your back.”

“As all good friends do. Come on Killian.”

Heath was out of the room before Killian had even stood up. He did so a bit awkwardly, bowing his head to Celeste.

“It was nice to meet you, Celeste.”

“Enchantée. Don’t be a stranger, Killian.”

Killian didn’t know what to say to that, so he said nothing, just nodded again and followed Heath out of the house. He wouldn’t be prey to another Vampire’s stupid contracts and customs in the span of 24 hours.

Celeste waited until they were out of earshot to turn to Felix staring daggers into his face which Felix just blinked unfazed at.

“What do you mean Heath’s the immortal hunter? The immortal hunter can’t be a vampire. And that boy? You let Wolfe hurt him in your own house?”

"Wolfe is dead now, Celeste, so any disrespect he caused me in my house is currently bleeding out of him in my basement. As for how the immortal hunter can be a vampire," Felix said, taking a sip of wine and looking at her over the glass, “I have a few theories...”

*~*~*~*~*

“Let the boy go, Wolfe. He doesn’t know anything about the immortal hunter,” said Heath, barely suppressing a growl. “He’s innocent.”

Wolfe laughed. “You say that as if innocence means anything to me, fledgling. I’ve been alive so long innocence and guilt bleed into the endless stream of time.”

“Would you like me to end your suffering then, or are you just going to make others suffer for your amusement?”

“Big talk for a bloodless vampire currently trapped by their sire,” said Wolfe, cruel grey eyes finding Heath’s and relishing in his wide-eyed surprise.

“Felix told me, of course. Your love for humanity, to the point where you abstain from drinking their blood. I bet you’re more attuned to it than even Felix or I, hmm? I bet you can hear poor Killian’s heart racing at the thought of being turned, at the injustice of it all. Every beat of blood pumping through his veins. Your restraint is astonishing.”

“If you’re trying to flirt, I have to let you know I draw the line at psychopaths.”

“And yet you just crawled out of Celeste’s bed.”

Heath lunged for the grey eyed vampire, but Felix managed to restrain him with such ease Heath thought he deserved Wolfe’s smug laughter.

“Touchy subject?”

Heath still struggled in Felix’s hold, but Felix just held him against his chest. Arms wrapped around his waist and shoulder like iron not budging in their grip. The helplessness transported Heath back to when he was human, and Felix would toy with him. Showing him how weak of a human he was, and how his heart was only still beating out of Felix’s mercy.

Heath vowed to never be so weak again, and yet here he was. Powerless, like before. He couldn’t even save the same fate from happening to Killian. A boy he had just met yesterday and doomed with an exchange of a couple words.

“Hush now, Heath. Calm down, you’ll only tire yourself out,” Felix whispered in his ear and Heath threw an elbow back trying to hit Felix’s face.

“You’re a bastard, Felix,” Heath seethed. “Yet you claim to have loved and missed me.”

“I did. You’re so cute when you’re riled up,” Felix said sweetly, ducking his nose into the place between Heath’s neck and shoulder and sniffed in a lungful of air. Heath froze. Paralysed from a forgotten fear, of when Felix was toying with him. “I sometimes regret turning you, it’s true. I miss when you were powerless to stop me. Frozen like this beneath me. Muscles tensed. At least you still have that amazing scent of the old blood.”

“Fuck you,” Heath muttered when he found his voice again, and he thanked the gods that his voice didn’t shake. Lifting his head, he looked at Wolfe through narrowed eyes. “You want to know about The Immortal Hunter? Fine. He’s dead.”

Wolfe blinked at him. Then he started laughing, that same booming laughter ricocheting around the basement. Felix behind Heath however, tightened his grip ever so slightly.

Good, Heath thought. At least one of these idiots believe me.

“You really wanna gamble poor Killian’s life on the hunter, the immortal hunter being dead? Do you take me for a fool, boy?”

“Yes,” Heath said easily. He wanted to throw a parade when his cool façade slipped over his face, he could do this. He could save Killian. “But I’m telling you the truth. The Immortal hunter’s blood runs through my veins, that’s why my blood even now is a beacon to you bloodfuckers. I’m your natural enemy. My blood sings to you so you come close enough to get drunk on it, and then the hunter kills you.”

Wolfe stared, looking over Heath’s shoulder at Felix then back to Heath. His face morphing into a more serious expression.

“You’re not saying that you were the immortal hunter?”

“You were always very strong for a human,” Felix murmured, more to himself than anyone else.

“No. That’s not true. You’re lying,” Wolfe growled, crossing the room in an instant with two long strides and getting up in Heath’s face. “You can’t be. The immortal hunter can’t be a vampire. They can’t be turned.”

Heath’s expression turned grim. “Yeah. I guess we both thought wrong, hmm?” Heath said, voice cracking in the middle. He looked away from Wolfe’s unsettling stare.

Felix shifted behind Heath. Slowly he took his cage like arms away, releasing Heath. Heath turned in surprise, but Felix wasn’t looking at Heath. He was looking at Wolfe.

“Wolfe. A word,” he said, and he didn’t wait for a response as he walked towards the basement door. Wolfe looked at Heath, then at the wall Felix disappeared behind. He grabbed Heath by the collar of his shirt and brought him close.

“If you untie the boy, I’ll make sure he is turned. Stay here.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Heath replied, hands up in surrender. Heath waited until he heard the basement door open and shut a second time before looking at Killian still tied to the chair and strolling over.

“I’m sorry,” Heath said, plopping down onto the ground in front of Killian sitting cross legged.

Killian shrugged. “I know the risks of partying with vampires.”

“Still. I’m sorry. Here,” Heath bit his wrist, deep enough for the blood to flow and offered it to Killian, but Killian sat back further in his chair, shaking his head. “It’ll heal you.”

“I don’t do vampire blood,” Killian said. “I don’t want to risk it.”

Heath looked at him for a moment then smiled sadly and pulled his wrist back.

“I didn’t either,” he said softly. “As a human I mean. Felix would force me to drink his after he was done torturing me. He wanted me fresh every day, to be clean. So, he could start from scratch again the next day.”

“Jesus. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. But I admire your principles. Except telling a vampire your name. How did Wolfe find out?”

Killian looked away. Lips scrunching up in annoyance.

“He told me he was human. Didn’t have red eyes. Didn’t know vampires could have normal eyes. He said he was staff too.”

“If it’s any consolation, I didn’t know vampires could have normal eyes either.”

“You mean you don’t know what he is?”

“Very old?” Heath offered, watching the blood drip down his wrist, stopping the wound from healing. “Perhaps familiar with magic. Contacts? Who knows.”

Killian started laughing. It was light and airy, and full of mirth, and when he caught Heath’s eyes, he started laughing harder. Heath smiled, and unbeknownst to himself the wound healed.

After the last couple of stray laughs died on his lips, Killian’s face settled into a fond smile. Then the smile faded, and his face turned sad. “Wolfe’s going to kill me, isn’t he?”

Heath let out a breath through his nose. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”

“Maybe I should drink your blood,” Killian said. “At least then my sister wouldn’t—”

Heath shook his head, and Killian’s breathing became harder. “Right,” Killian said, his voice breaking. “Family isn’t worth it, right? They won’t thank me for it, right? Death is preferable. Maybe in your experience…”

“Killian. . .”

“But it’s my life! My death! I should get the choice at least?” he said, but it came out as more of a question. Heath searched his face with sad eyes. This was cruel. At least when Heath was turned his choice was taken from him. He knew what he was getting into. This boy didn’t. This human boy, so afraid of death because he didn’t want to leave his family behind.

“If they kill you –” Heath began softly, looking Killian in the eye. “If they turn you, no matter what they do… tell me your family name and I will make sure your sister lives a long, happy life.”

Killian broke down into sobs then, and Heath was there, patting his leg uselessly.

“Thank you,” he mumbled gratefully. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“Touching.”

Heath was on his feet in a second, back to Killian, standing protectively in front of him as Felix and Wolfe strolled back into the room.

“Catch.”

Heath’s hand shot out before he registered what Felix had said. He looked down at the object and saw a sheathed dagger. The same dagger Heath had brought with him to kill Felix when he was still breathing.

He pulled it out an inch and saw his red eyes staring back at him with a pale face. Then he looked at the two vampires, Felix stood leaning on the wall with his arms crossed while Wolfe stood closer to Heath making himself as imposing as possible.

“Cheers.”

“It’s not a gift,” Wolfe said, voice low with that unstable growl. “Prove you’re the immortal hunter.”

“How can I prove it? Do you want me to kill you, Wolfie?”

Felix laughed catching everyone’s attention. He only reacted to Wolfe’s death stare. Felix raised a hand in his defence, “What? It was funny.”

Wolfe rolled his eyes, turning his attention back to Heath. “The Immortal Hunter’s blood activates the knife.”

Heath shrugged. “So?”

“So—”

Heath didn’t have time to react before Wolfe was in front of him, claws out and slashed them down Heath’s arm.

“FUCK!” Heath yelled, dropping the knife in surprise as his eyes went to his arm. Wolfe’s claws had torn from the top of his elbow to his wrist which was currently gushing blood. “You bastard that hurt!”

“Cry me a river,” Wolfe said leaning down to pick up the knife and pressed it into Heath’s other hand. “Activate it. Now.”

“A little patience never goes astray.”

Heath’s head rocked back after Wolfe’s swift punch, forcing him to one knee as the world shook around him.

“Now, please.”

Heath shook his head out trying to reorient himself and then he looked down at the knife. “Well since you said please…”

“I don’t even think you’re worth the trouble alive,” Wolfe sneered, and Heath sniffed, blood running down his nose from Wolfe’s powerful punch.

“Technically I’m dead.”

Wolfe brought his hand back to punch him again, but Felix’s voice stopped him.

“Heath. Please. Just prove you’re the hunter or I’ll snap Killian’s pretty little neck.”

Heath glared at Felix over Wolfe’s shoulder, but he might as well have glared at a wall or a fish. Felix returned his stare completely unbothered. He even looked amused.

“Fine,” said Heath. He unsheathed the dagger and allowed the stream from his wrist to bleed down onto the knife. The black, red blood turned almost luminous when it hit the knife, the runes previously unseen igniting as Heath’s blood ran through every invisible crevice now made visible. When the blood had run its course over the surface instead of dripping to the floor, it sank into the metal as of the blade itself were liquid and grew heavier in Heath’s hand as he made his arm heal with the last of his energy.

He glanced up at Wolfe then, who looked on in an angry sort of shock, while Felix who had been far away before was suddenly right beside Heath watching the runes being revealed before his eyes.

“Incredible,” Felix whispered in awe, looking at Heath with something indiscernible in his eyes.

“So, it’s true,” Wolfe gruffed.

“What can I say,” Heath said easily. “I’m an honest kind of guy,” then he plunged the knife deep into Wolfe’s heart.

*~*~*~*~*

Wolfe was waiting outside once the party had started dissipating and the crowds became less and less. Grey eyes searching the happy party goers, drunk vampires and drained humans stumbling from the party, looking for a familiar mop of brown hair trying to sneak away from them. He did not see it however, even as the dregs of the party left, leaving only passed out vampires and venom-induced-high humans inside.

“Would you like me to close the doors, sir?” Wolfe looked to the servant beside him who had been quiet as a mouse until now.

“Yes. If you see a man in a red mask run, do call for me.”

“Of course, sir.”

Wolfe walked back inside, the doors closing behind him and there in the middle of the ballroom a woman on his arm stood Heath, his eyes meeting Wolfe’s with the same defiant expression they had when Wolfe had hurt him earlier.

Oh, Wolfe would enjoy breaking the young pup in again.

Felix was beside the pair chatting idly as Wolfe approached, footsteps heavy in the near empty ballroom.

“Wolfe, I was wondering where you got to,” said Heath with a charming smile, eyes lacking any emotion.

“Wolfe?” The girl asked with a warm voice, “I don’t believe we’ve met. My name is Celeste.”

“Celeste, enchantée,” Wolfe said with a low bow. “I’m Wolfe.”

Celeste cocked a perfect brow, “Wolfe? Your reputation precedes you.”

“All good things I hope.”

“One would hope,” Celeste replied easily, tone clipped.

Felix clapped his hands gathering everyone’s attention. “Now that the party is over, I’m sure we can pick up business tomorrow. Let me show you to your rooms.”

Wolfe hummed, eyes narrowing at the setback to his plans, but it was no matter. He would get the information from the boy. Be it tonight, or the next, or the next. Wolfe was very patient, and it seems Felix still cared for the boy. As long as it didn’t interfere, Wolfe could wait.

                                *~*~*~*~*

“So, who is this Wolfe?” Celeste asked after Felix had shown them their room. Heath shrugged his suit jacket off and onto the chair in the corner of the room.

“Some guy that’s a friend of Felix’s,” said Heath noncommittally.

“Right, and what does he want with you?”

Heath looked at her, and she turned her back to him, pulling her hair to the side. Heath walked to her, pulling the zip on her dress down.

“He— wants to know about the Immortal hunter, and the ancient’s blood.”

Celeste turned, eyes big and a red so dark they almost looked brown. She looked up at Heath with that old knowing look that everyone around Heath seemed to share.

“He wants to know about your past.”

Heath nodded. Celeste began unbuttoning Heath’s waist coat in silence, then undoing his tie.

“Are you going to tell him?” Celeste asked.

Heath sucked in a sharp breath when Celeste’s cold hands settled on his chest. There was a comfort in her touch, looking down at her and placing a hand on her beautiful cheek.

“Do you think I should?” Heath asked with a small, sad smile.

Celeste leaned up pressing her lips to Heath’s, and Heath leaned into it. His hands went to her dress, pulling the straps off her shoulder as she shimmied out of it, the fabric pooled on the floor beneath their feet. Celeste’s hands went to unbutton his shirt and pull it off.

Heath turned them so Celeste’s back was to the bed, his hands trailed down her waist and her sides to her back and then her arse. He had barely got hold of her then she jumped on him, arms slinging around his neck and legs crossed behind his back, hooked at the ankles until they were entangled and moved to the bed.

Heath broke the kiss for air, and Celeste said: “You drive me crazy when you do that pout.”

Heath smiled in return. “I know other ways to drive you crazy.”

“Oh, I know,” Celeste hummed when Heath leaned down to trail kisses down her neck. Her hands looped around him tighter, pulling him closer. “Don’t get yourself killed, Heath,” she whispered softly.

Then moaned when Heath’s tongue hit that sweet spot between her neck and collar bone.

“I won’t,” he promised. Voice husky.

That’s all they said on the matter for the rest of the night, as they moved from conversation to other things under the sheets.

                                     *~*~*~*~*

Heath woke up to the sound of blood. The smell was putrid. Stinking. He got to his feet clumsy, pulling on a jumper from the dresser and his shoes and socks before following the scent down the stairs, then he stopped. He was staring at the heavy iron door that led to the basement, the scent of blood taking him there, and he hesitated.

Celeste was still in the bed upstairs.

He could just get back into bed.

But he raised a shaking hand to the door and pushed it open, descending the stairs again.

When he reached the last step the smell of blood hit him full force. He heard the small intakes of breath as well and with each step into the darkness a pit grew in his stomach, slowly getting bigger and bigger until he got to the source of blood.

A boy sat in the middle of the room, the collar of his white shirt painted scarlet. To his credit the boy wasn’t crying, and when he lifted his head that’s when Heath saw the full-face jester mask.

The boy from the door yesterday.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to wake you, Heath.”

Wolfe’s smiling voice boomed around the room. Heath immediately forced his posture to relax, hands easily sliding into his pockets, though he kept his eyes on the boy in the chair.

“Yes, you did.”

“Okay,” said Wolfe, coming up behind Heath’s left shoulder. “Maybe I did. But come on, Felix made me wait a whole other day for our little chat.”

“You’re telling me Felix isn’t here?”

“Oh no, I’m here,” Felix called, his voice distant, behind them. Then Heath heard the close of the heavy iron basement door. The iron bolt sliding into place, the only way out of Felix’s cold basement.

“Great! The whole gang’s here hmm, Killian?” Wolfe asked, and the boy raised his head slowly.

Heath’s heart sunk. Maybe the boy wasn’t smart enough to deny every vampire his name. Wolfe stepped around Heath and walked towards the boy as Felix turned the light on, and Heath met those cold grey eyes head on. Wolfe stopped behind Killian, grinning, unnatural grey eyes alight with malice.

Then again, maybe it wasn’t Killian’s fault at all.

Wolfe put a hand through the boy’s hair and brought it up so Killian was looking forward. Killian groaned, groggy as Wolfe took his mask off and it fell to the floor.

Wild blue eyes met Heath’s red and he shrunk back a little in his seat. In the light Heath saw the kid’s hands had been tied behind his back, keeping him in the chair.

“Afraid of a human, Wolfe?” Heath asked, tilting his head.

Wolfe chuckled. “No, but it does stop the struggling when I do this.”

Without pause Wolfe’s clawed finger came out and cut a sharp line into Killian’s cheek. Heath took an unconscious step forward at Killian’s hiss of pain, but a cold hand landed heavy on his shoulder keeping him in place beside Felix who slinked up behind Heath.

“You told him,” said Heath quietly. It didn’t matter that everyone heard him, all that mattered was the fact that Felix hadn’t changed. He told Wolfe about his weakness to humans just to torture him again. Heath should have never come back. He should have stayed in fucking bed with Celeste cuddled next to him.

Heath could feel Felix’s quiet laugh in his back.

“Your heart was always your fault old friend, especially little helpless humans.”

“So, Killian this is how it’s going to go,” Wolfe said, looking at Heath the entire time. “We’re going to ask Heath some questions. You recognise him from yesterday, right?”

Killian said nothing. Wolfe pulled his head back sharply, until he took a sharp breath of pain. “I said, you recognise him, right?”

“Yes,” Killian ground out through gritted teeth.

“Good. Well, he has a soft spot for humans like you, or so Felix tells me. Do you know why, Killian?”

“No.”

“Because he was a human himself once. In fact, he was just like you, under the employ of Mr Felix himself.”

Killian met Heath’s eyes with a sad kind of sympathy. Heath returned the same apologetic stare. If it wasn’t for him Killian wouldn’t be here.

He was such an idiot.

“How was the pay?” Killian asked and Heath let out a startled laugh.

Wolfe slapped Killian for his outburst and Heath stopped himself from moving an inch. He didn’t want to give Felix the satisfaction of restraining him further.

“What’s going to happen, Killian, if Heath doesn’t answer my question, is I’m going to bite you right here,” Wolfe said pressing a thumb against Killian’s carotid artery, “and I’m going to inject my venom into your bloodstream. You know what happens then Killian?”

Watching the realisation settle on Killian’s face was enough torture for Heath to endure, and Killian started trying to pull his arms free. Struggling against Wolfe’s hold on them.

Wolfe finally let go of Killian’s hair, a cruel laugh booming around the room. “There we go, Heath. I think he gets it now. Do you?”

Heath rolled his eyes. “Are you always this dramatic, Wolfe? Is that how you’re friends with Felix? You could have asked me over coffee, and I would have answered your questions.”

“I did try to tell him that,” said Felix to his right, and Heath nodded.

“Exactly. There’s no need to bring the boy into this. Just let him go,” Heath continued casually, stepping forward. Felix’s arm snakes around his chest like chains further restraining him back against Felix’s chest. Wolfe’s eyes shined with an awful glint of glee at Heath’s face as he watched Killian.

“I think this is the perfect place for him, Felix. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“It is the more fun way of doing things,” Felix agreed.

Wolfe smiled with all his teeth then. “Shall we begin?”

*~*~*~*~*

Heath stalked up the marble steps to the ostentatious mansion. The annual masquerade party was in full swing, the smell of blood permeating the air was intoxicating, and for a moment just outside the open doors Heath hesitated. Slowly closing his hands into fists and opening them again. It occurred to him that he could leave, and the idea was all too enticing.

Maybe coming here was a mistake.

“May I take your jacket, sir?” Heath looked at the servant and was glad for the red mask obscuring part of his face, it would make the night go smoother.

Though the servant wore a full faced decorated mask, through the eye holes Heath’s maroon eyes met blue ones staring back at him.

Human. Interesting.

“That’s quite alright, thank you.”

“Of course, Mr Cain. Mr Felix has been expecting you and would like a private audience as soon as you have mingled.”

“Would he now?” Heath asked, going to stand beside the servant leaning against the wall and pulling out a metal case of cigarettes.

He clicked his fingers lighting the cigarette between his teeth and took a drag, as he watched the boy from the corner of his eyes.

“What’s your name?” He asked, and the boy hesitated.

“Forgive me, Mr Cai –”

“You can call me Heath.”

“Of course. Forgive me, Heath, but with all due respect you’re a vampire… if I tell you my name- well, I’ve heard the stories.”

Heath let out a snort of laughter, looking at the boy plainly now.

“Smart boy.”

“In this line of work, I have to be.”

Heath smiled, taking a long drag then offering the cigarette to the boy.

“Do you smoke?”

“No sir.”

“Good lad. Smart lad,” Heath said genuinely, then cocked a brow. “Not smart enough to be as far as possible from a vamp party, though?”

The boy swallowed and looked away from Heath’s penetrating stare.

“What do you owe Felix?”

“Umm…”

“You don’t reek of any thrall,” Heath began, exhaling a lungful of smoke into the cool night air. “Which either means you’re in debt –”

The servant hesitated. “The party is in full swing inside, sir.”

“I’m aware,” Heath said easily, humour lacing his voice. “Full of loathful bloodsuckers like me who eat people like you. So, either- you’re one of Victor’s pets waiting to be turned, which I’m guessing not because you knew not to tell me your name… Or you owe him something. Feel free to correct me.”

The servant said nothing for a moment. Then faltered. A dip of the head. Then back to their rigid posture, head held high.

“Family?”

“How –”

“It’s always family that fucks you. Whether you like them or not,” Heath said, throwing the cigarette to the floor. Crushing it beneath his shoe. “You live a few centuries; you see the same mistakes. I’m not saying your family isn’t worth it. I’m just saying, there will be no thanks for your sacrifice. For the years you give up.”

“You say that as if you know from experience.”

Heath smiled again, winking at the servant. “Like I said, smart boy.”

With that Heath pushed off the wall, fixing his suit jacket and mask before turning to the servant, extending a hand.

“If all goes well, I hope I never see you again,” he said, and the boy looked as if he had just solved all his problems. Like his words had somehow lifted an invisible weight from his shoulders.

“I hope so too.”

Heath nodded, taking a deep breath before breaching the doors of the building.

*~*~*~*~*

“Ah, if it isn’t Chaos himself, hmm?” Heath turned and saw the familiar face of an elegant woman strutting towards him. Wicked grin painted in red, hair immaculate as always and delicate hands outstretched to greet him.

Heath took her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “Celeste, is it me or do you get more gorgeous with the centuries?”

“Oh darling, it’s not just you. I age like a fine wine.”

Heath chuckled, letting her lead him through the crowds of blood drunk vampires and love drunk fools who let the vampires tap them like maples.

“When did you get back?” she asked over her shoulder, her sultry tones carried like the word of God on a breeze, making music in his ears as they walked.

“I’m not back,” said Heath, eyes scanning the room for the reason he was here at all. “Just visiting Victor.”

Celeste laughed her beautiful laugh, both scathing and genuine at once.

“What’s so funny?” Heath asked, the Irish accent leaking out when he got defensive.

Celeste turned to Heath then, a manicured hand on his chest as she said with knowing eyes, “everyone knows what Just visiting for you means. No one can seem to get you out of that – oh what is it called again?”

“Ireland.”

“Just the same who seems to have captured your heart. Normally you have to be dragged away,” her eyes narrowed as she looked at his lips. “Just what could it be that’s piqued your interest this time?”

Heath smiled his dazzling smile at her and took her hand in his. “Can’t you just say it’s good to see me?”

“It’s good to see you,” a new voice said. Both Celeste and Heath looked to the left to see the host of tonight’s festivities.

Victor Felix stood to their left, a wine glass of blood in one hand, the familiar hint of a smirk on the corner of his quirked lip. He was dressed in a velvet navy suit, a purple cravat tucked into his wine waistcoat that matched his wine domino mask that had horns growing from the top. The devil himself.

“Felix!” Heath exclaimed, stepping out of Celeste’s arms and went to kiss each of Felix’s cheeks.

“Mio vecchio amico, it’s been too long.”

“Too long indeed.”

“We were just discussing his absence in favour of the Emerald Isle,” Celeste added walking towards the pair, her hand extended to Felix who took it and pressed a kiss to her now gloved knuckles.

“Celeste, gorgeous as always.”

Celeste just hummed, stepping back to be in line with Heath. Heath threw an easy arm around her waist keeping her close as he shot a megawatt smile at Felix.

“How have you been, Victor?” Heath asked, smile only half forced.

“I’ve been… busy,” Felix replied, looking between Celeste and Heath with golden eyes. “Where are my manners, dear boy, you don’t even have a drink! Waiter!”

A waiter appeared in less than a second, with a tray of wine glasses half full of blood. Heath took one, holding it at his side. Celeste took one too with a smile and a thank you, before taking a sip. Felix watched the exchange with calculating eyes, that same amused smile now shining in his eyes.

“I met your boy outside,” Heath said casually, and Felix looked towards him, daring him to continue. “Smart boy.”

“He is,” said Felix bringing the glass to his lips. He paused right before he took a sip, stare cutting through Heath’s and said, “reminds me of you way back when.”

“I was just about to say the same thing. Do you plan on turning him?”

Felix shrugged. “I don’t know yet. Perhaps. It’s always good to keep the sharp ones, Heath. Speaking of… I have a friend I’d like to introduce you to.”

“Do ya now?”

Felix let out a short breath of a laugh, as if there was a joke that Heath wasn’t privy to. “I do. He even asked for you by name.”

“What an honour.”

“You boys are so boring,” said Celeste, stepping out of Heath’s hold. She placed a hand on Heath’s cheek bringing him down into a short, sweet kiss and said, “come find me after you’re done doing business at a party.”

“Of course,” said Heath. Celeste looked back at Felix then.

“Don’t keep him too long,” she ordered, and Felix nodded. Then Celeste turned and disappeared into the crowd once again.

Heath looked to Felix who turned and walked into the crowd, expecting Heath to follow, so Heath did. Through winding crowds, occasionally stopping to greet someone, or someone stopping them to greet Heath and welcome him back.

“It’s good to be home, no?” Felix commented as he led him to the back of the ballroom out towards the gardens. Heath kept his head up, eyes forward.

“I’ve made my own home Felix. It was never here.”

“You wound me. After everything I’ve done for you,” Felix said with a pantomime pout.

“That boy. Outside, the human –”

Felix stopped, stepping in front of Heath, a cruel glint in his eyes. “Let me guess. You’re going to beg me not to turn him.”

Heath shrugged. “Yeah.”

“And what would you do for me?”

“Nothing. I just wanted to stop you from making the same mistake twice.”

Felix hummed, starting to walk again to the balcony overlooking the garden. When they got to the edge, Heath leaned his forearms over the rail looking out over the green expanse below. The garden was his favourite part of Felix’s mansion. It was the one place that was peaceful. When he was human, it was his brief reprieve from Felix and his orders, out in nature with the animals and the insects, the smell of the flowers calmed him. With his vampire senses, everything was too much, and the garden became too bright, too beautiful, too smelly.

“You wouldn’t like a little brother?”

“He wouldn’t like an older one more like,” said Heath taking a sip of the blood. Tastebuds tingling with iron. It was fresh. Heath hadn’t drunk fresh blood in so long.

Felix put his back to the railing looking at Heath from the corner of his eye. “I did miss you, you know,” he said quietly. “Even if you didn’t miss me.”

“Who is this person that wants to meet me? Have you been telling stories about me again?” Heath asked without missing a beat.

Felix cleared his throat, taking a sip of his drink looking back into the ballroom. “His name is Wolfe. Ah, and here he comes.”

Heath turned as Felix stepped away, going to greet Wolfe. He was tall. That was the first thing that struck Heath, that he was tall, taller than Felix. But where Felix was slim, Wolfe was broad. He was muscled to the point of being ripped under his white collared shirt and waist coat. A half smile was on his lips, stubble lined his strong square jaw that went up into his hair line where shoulder length purposefully messy hair lay perfect.

He also wasn’t wearing a mask, Heath noted, eyes narrowing slightly. A loose tie hung around his neck untied, a mask in one hand and his drink in the other.

“Felix,” his voice rumbled smooth. “It’s been too long, mate.”

English accent. Northern. That’s about as much as Heath could discern before Felix led the hulking stranger over.

His eyes were a piercing, opaque grey colour that sent Heath’s mind reeling. He listened for a heartbeat but heard none and when Wolfe outstretched his hand Heath took it robotically and felt no warmth. No pulse of blood. Yet his eyes were grey.

“You must be Cain, Felix’s boy, yes?”

“I’m Heath,” said Heath. Not friendly and not unfriendly. “You’re English.”

“Very astute. You’re Irish.”

“For the weather I am.”

Wolfe let out a booming hearty laugh, hand tightening around Heath’s with mirth. He cupped his other hand around Heath’s and pulled him in close for a hug. Wolfe swamped Heath’s frame, his strength unnatural even for a vampire and for the first time in a long time… Heath was scared.

“Good, good. The weather is shit in our parts, innit?”

“Never any sun to contend with,” Heath laughed, but at the joke or the fact that Wolfe finally released him he didn’t know.

Wolfe’s face levelled into a happy neutral expression. The same expression he walked up to them with. “Sorry about the mask, I didn’t want to greet you without you knowing what I look like.”

Heath glanced at Felix and nearly hated himself for it. Looking to Felix for a command. An order. A silent question. Does he need to take his off too? Heath decided against it because he could, because he was his own man. He didn’t need Felix to tell him what to do anymore.

“Felix told me you’re young. What is it? A couple decades?”

Heath opened his mouth, but it was Felix who answered. “He’s 149.”

Heath shot Felix a look, but Felix just smiled back like a proud father.

“Barely out of your fledgling days!” Wolfe laughed.

“Or maybe you’re just ancient,” Heath said twisting his lips into a smile. He could do this. Don’t show any fear. Play it up. It’s fine.

Wolfe laughed again, some ancient knowing settling into his eyes as he said, “maybe.”

Heath couldn’t hold the stare long, glancing at Felix beside Wolfe instead. “Felix said you wanted to chat with me?”

“Yes. I do. If you wouldn’t mind.”

“Not at all, what about?”

Wolfe fixed Heath with a pinning stare, his grey eyes enthralling Heath just a little bit to keep his attention and for a moment Heath felt his feeble humanity humming in the back of his mind. That primal fear of predator watching prey. The same look Felix set on him when he decided he didn’t want Heath to leave him.

“The immortal hunter.”

Those three words hammered through Heath’s skull, and if his heart still beat, he’s sure it would’ve beat faster at Wolfe’s confident words issued through a cool, casual tone that demanded Heath’s attention with those cold grey eyes.

Heath looked at Felix, mouth open, looking like an idiot and Felix tilted his head – a smile on his lips watching Heath squirm before stepping closer to Heath, and Heath could have preened at the familiarity of his sire so close even after he broke the bond.

“Felix told me you had history with it,” Wolfe continued, his voice a low rumbling drawl, smooth as gravel and gentle like a lion just before it was about to prance. Wolfe tilted his head regarding Heath with inquisitive eyes. “And with the old blood. The ancient blood, of course, that’s what enticed Felix to you in the first place I’m guessing.”

Wolfe glanced at Felix then. “I can still smell it on him, even after he’s turned- what was it, 140 years or so? That ancient blood is always tricky. Especially for a fledgling.”

“I’m not a fledgling anymore.”

“Not to you, perhaps,” said Wolfe eyes going back to Heath. “But when you live as long as Felix and me, a century is nothing but a blink of an eye.”

“So, what do you want with the immortal hunter?”

“Isn’t it obvious, dear boy?”

Heath’s hand tightened harder on his glass. “Obviously not.”

Wolfe hummed, bringing the glass to his lips, and swallowing a gulp of blood. Then he smiled showing his teeth and the blood staining his lips and canines nearly made Heath sick.

Wolfe looked at Felix. “I forgot how impetuous the youth of yesterday can be.”

Felix shrugged, “it can be fun to get them in line.”

“You have the patience of a saint, Felix,” then his eyes slid back to Heath, void of the humour it had been full of before. “I, however, do not.”

Wolfe took a step towards Heath and Heath took one back, his lower back pressing into the rail trapping him, with Felix on his left caging him in.

He felt so small. So weak, so human.

“We should chat, Cain. After everyone is gone, perhaps? Are you staying with Felix while you’re here?”

“No,” Heath said at the same time Felix said, “Yes.”

Wolfe grinned, a big hand clamping down hard on Heath’s shoulder. The grip turned bruising, but Heath didn’t wince. He didn’t flinch. He kept Wolfe’s cruel stare, even when Wolfe’s claws penetrated flesh and cut through his shoulder.

“I like you, Cain,” Wolfe said, withdrawing his hand. He put his mask on finally, and it felt like Heath could finally breathe again.

Wolfe looked at Felix then, “I’ll stay here too if you have a room.”

“Of course,” said Felix his eyes on Heath again. “Don’t disappear on us now, Heath.”

Heath said nothing as he pushed passed Felix, his mind swimming as he stalked back into the ballroom, downing the glass of blood before looking for Celeste. He needed to calm down and she was the only one who could soothe his nerves right now.

*~*~*~*~*