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Restraints

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Bloodbath

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"That's not what I meant"

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Falling

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Dizzy

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Smoke

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Chekhov's gun

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Broken

That didn’t mean he had to like it.

It didn’t make sense, was what bothered him the most. He’d had this mental image of who had attacked him. They were cold, impassive, ruthless. A sadist of the worst sort. They had no problem torturing him to the brink of death and leaving him to topple over that edge. 

And then it turns out his attacker was Poppet. A villain with no prior history (that they knew of, he reminded himself) of violent actions. Who he now had interacted with, and he didn’t know what to think anymore.

Save your sympathy for someone worthy of it, they’d said. They hadn’t played on Zera’s soft heart or Elijah’s stubborn insistence on seeing the potential in everyone. 

I’ll tell you everything I did so you can repeat it. They hadn’t denied that they’d hurt Luke. They even seemed genuine when they said they were sorry. 

You were right about me. I’m just Slipknot’s little toy, their stupid attack dog. He didn’t remember those words, meaning he must have said them during whatever encounter led to…

To an otherwise sane, empathetic-seeming kid beating him nearly to death.

He couldn’t make that sequence of events make sense. He was still missing something, and it nagged at him like an itch he couldn’t quite scratch. 

The only source for that missing information was Poppet themself. Meaning Luke would just have to wait.

---

The wait ended up being shorter than he expected. It was only a few hours into Luke’s guard duty bedside vigil that Poppet woke.

The signs were subtle at first. Their breathing, which had been regular and deep, hitched and stuttered. Their brows furrowed like they were in pain. Luke got up to double-check the IV drip.

Which meant that he had front-row seats to see Poppet open their eyes. 

They looked like a startled horse, their eyes wide enough to show a ring of white all the way around the iris. Their gaze darted around the room before finally landing on the IV in their arm. Poppet’s breath caught in their throat before coming out as a quiet whimper. They reached for the IV.

“Hey, don’t,” Luke said sharply. 

Poppet jumped. Apparently his presence hadn’t been important enough to register in their look around the room. 

“Whe—” they croaked out before their voice gave up on them.

“Hero HQ, medbay,” he said. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Our medic went to the trouble of patching you up, so don’t even think about undoing her work. The IV stays in.”

He saw Poppet’s throat work as they swallowed, then nodded. “It worked?” they asked.

Luke snorted and raised an eyebrow. “Your plan? More or less. We got out, despite the issues there at the end.”

Poppet closed their eyes. Their face smoothed out as they took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Good. That’s- that’s good.”

Luke didn’t bother replying. He let the silence stretch out between them as he studied the villain. He was torn. Part of him, the bitter part that couldn’t see past what had happened to him, said this was an act. This was fake, a way to get someone into the Hero HQ as a spy. Poppet was just a convincing actor, and would stab all of them in the back the first chance they got.

The more rational part of him, the part that could admit he was hasty in attacking Poppet back in Slipknot’s cell, said that that was ridiculous. A dislocated shoulder might be one thing to convince the heroes, but that batshit escape plan that somehow worked? Getting stabbed? Those were something else entirely. 

Poppet’s eyes flew open again, looking at Luke in a panic. “Are you okay? The others? Foxfire and Tempest?”

This villain had no damn right to look so earnest about their concern for his teammates! 

“They’re fine,” Luke bit out, harsher than he really meant. Poppet flinched at his tone, and he sighed. Softer, he added, “Foxfire wore themself out carrying you back here. They’re resting. Tempest is doing paperwork for all this shit. No one besides you got anything more than scrapes and bruises in the escape.”

“Good,” Poppet said, finally breaking that too-intense eye contact. “That’s… I’m glad.”

They closed their eyes, face scrunching like they were in pain. Luke checked their IV again. Everything was fine. 

Their next words were so quiet, he wouldn’t have heard them if he were any further away. “Are you going to kill me?”

Luke actually made himself dizzy with how fast his head snapped around to look at Poppet. “What.”

“I won’t fight you,” the villain said, voice barely audible. Their eyes were open now, but they wouldn’t look at him. They stared resolutely at the ceiling like they were trying to hold back tears. “Or I’ll try not to, anyway. I… I can’t guarantee I won’t use my telekinesis on instinct. But I’ll—”

“Stop,” Luke said.

Poppet’s mouth closed with an audible click. They squeezed their eyes shut.

Luke ran a hand over his face. What the fuck. What the actual, entire fuck. 

Okay. He gets it, okay? He fucked up. He attacked them back in the cell, and said some things that weren’t exactly all rainbows and sunshine. But that was the heat of the moment, alright? He has a temper, and this whole… thing, is kind of a big trigger for it. 

It was one thing to make threats (and… throw punches… yeah, he fucked up, he’s aware) in the heat of the moment. It’s an entirely different thing to talk about it so calmly and matter-of-fact. 

“I’m not,” he started, then broke off with a groan of frustration. Why was this so hard? Why couldn’t this be a simple situation with a simple bad guy that he could simply rage at?

Because life is rarely simple, came a mental voice that sounded suspiciously like Elijah, the even-tempered asshole.

“I’m not going to kill you,” he said.

He expected Poppet to be relieved. Instead, they looked more upset after hearing that. They opened tear-filled eyes and stared back up at the ceiling, still refusing to look at him.

“Right,” said Poppet. Their voice was thick with emotion. “I still owe you that list.” A tear escaped and rolled down their face.

List? What list? When had they… mentioned… 

I’ll tell you everything I did so you can repeat it.

Oh.

Fuck.

---

Dun dun dun!!!

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Zera grasped them tighter for a second, unwilling to let anyone hurt their rescuer. They would- would—

“Zera, stand down,” Elijah said gently. “We’re back in Hero HQ. We’re in the medbay. Maeve needs Poppet laying down so she can examine them.”

Zera nodded unsteadily, feeling like a poorly carved wooden doll: all splinters and stiff joints. With Elijah’s help, they got Poppet-Bailey settled on one of the beds.

“Is-” Zera started, looking around. “Are you okay? How’s Luke? Where’s Luke? Did-”

“Breathe,” Elijah said, tone somehow even more gentle. He led them to a chair that they more or less collapsed into. “Luke’s fine, nothing more than scratches that a band-aid can handle. He didn’t want to be here.”

Zera made a face at that.

“I’m fine too,” Elijah continued, a small smile on his face. “Again, just minor things. The only one who got physically hurt was Poppet.”

Zera blinked. Then blinked again. If their brain would start working again, that would be great. “Physically hurt?”

Elijah’s smile turned sad. “I mean you, Zera. You were a million miles away just now; you had me worried.”

Zera looked away from him, over to where Maeve examined Poppet-Bailey with glowing hands and a practiced eye.

The sound of a chair being dragged across the floor snapped Zera’s attention back to Elijah. He’d brought one close enough that he could sit while continuing to talk with them.

“What’s going on?” he asked. “I know you, Zera. You’ve got something running through your head. Is it about Poppet?”

“Bailey,” Zera said.

“What?”

Zera shook their head, trying to kick-start their brain’s higher functions. “They said their name is Bailey,” Zera continued.

“They told you their name?” Elijah asked, sounding as incredulous as Zera felt. In their line of work, names and identities were either well known, like with heroes or villains that didn’t care to keep a secret civilian identity, or a carefully guarded secret. None of Slipknot’s associates fell into the former category— Poppet included.

Zera nodded woodenly. Their tone was thick when they continued. “And it isn’t just that they told me. It’s how they said it. It was like… God, it was like it was a relief to say it out loud.”

Both heroes turned to look at the unconscious villain then. 

“I think they were telling the truth,” Zera said. “I don’t know what happened to them, but I don’t think they were there by choice. Not really.”

“Not an informed choice, anyway,” Elijah said thoughtfully.

Zera thought of how Bailey had talked about themself, the loathing in their voice when they called themself Slipknot’s toy. 

“They got hurt because of us,” they said, voice low and hoarse. “They were rescuing us. And their own teammates stabbed them for it.”

Warmth spread over their knee. They looked down to see Elijah’s hand covering it. 

“We can’t change what’s happened, Zera,” he said. It was a phrase he’d told them on many occasions.

“We can only move forward and learn from it,” Zera said, completing the phrase. 

“Over here, you two,” Maeve called tiredly.

Zera and Elijah joined her at Bailey’s bedside. 

“I fixed the internal damage,” she said, pointing to a still-open wound in Bailey’s side. “The knife nicked some blood vessels and punctured their lung. I healed the pneumothorax and the internal bleeding, but that’s all I can do for now.” She sounded apologetic, as though it were her fault she was still recovering from using her powers to patch the group up after their last disaster.

“Will they pull through?” Elijah asked.

Maeve nodded. “They should. I’m going to start an IV to help replace the blood they lost, and stitch up the last of that wound. That’s not why I called you over, though.”

She gently rolled Bailey onto their uninjured side, exposing their bare back. 

Zera’s breath caught at the sight. 

Bailey’s back was a patchwork of cuts and bruises layered over a lattice of scar tissue. If Zera didn’t know better, they’d say it looked like…

“Fuck,” they said quietly. “They said. They said the guests ‘got a little rough’, at Slipknot’s last party.”

It looked like Bailey had been whipped. 

“These are at least two days old,” Maeve said. “They had time to scab over, then re-open. They were cleaned and bandaged, but nothing more than that for treatment. Some of these could have used butterfly closures at minimum, and preferably stitches. I would say that Poppet treated these themself.” 

Elijah and Zera shared a look, his grim, theirs horrified. If they’d needed more proof that Bailey wasn’t an entirely willing participant in Slipknot’s schemes? Well. Here it was.

“I’m too tired to figure out what you’re not saying at the moment,” Maeve said. “Right now, I need steady hands— and someone who’s not coming off an adrenaline high, don’t even think about it Zera— to help me document all this.”

Elijah sighed and nodded, probably thinking about all the paperwork this was going to cause. “Right. I’ll send Iris.”

“I’m staying,” Zera said. 

Both senior heroes stared at them. They did their best not to squirm under the scrutiny.

“I won’t get in the way!” they said, probably losing the battle not to sound defensive. “And I won’t offer to do anything, not that you’d even accept. I just… I wanna make sure they’re okay.” 

They sounded more pathetic than they’d really like to admit at that admission. That was probably what made the senior heroes let them stay. 

Zera did as promised. They didn’t try to help with the procedures or the documentation. They did go ahead and fetch the materials Maeve would need—  saline solution, gauze, bandages, suture kit— but then they were a good little hero and sat down, out of the way. 

Iris and Maeve managed to photograph what must have been every cut and bruise on Bailey’s body before Maeve started on the stitches. She took out hemostats and a curved needle, maneuvering them with precision in her gloved hands. Zera couldn’t remember the medical name for the stitch at the moment, but they knew the sewing name for it: whip stitch.

Whip stitch. For some reason, it was almost unbearably funny. Whip stitch, for someone who’d been- been—

And then it wasn’t funny. Not in the slightest. The laughter they’d been holding back transmuted into sobs.

Just what kind of hell had their nemesis been put through?

---

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“What happened to B and C?” Foxfire asked.

“Not applicable,” Bailey said. They wanted to make a joke of it, but it wasn’t the time. Anyway, they doubted the heroes would get the reference even if they made it.

“Okay, I’ll bite,” Icarus said. Bailey warily gazed at him, wondering if he was being metaphorical or literal. “What’s Plan D?” 

Metaphorical, then. Bailey let out a little sigh of relief. “Plan D is sneaking our way upstairs and going out through a window.” 

There was a long moment of silence as Bailey worked on the door’s lock. Eventually, they turned to look at the heroes, who were giving them looks with varying shades of concern and doubt.

“What?” they asked.

“Could you elaborate on that plan?” Tempest asked. 

“Because it seems a little…” Foxfire broke off.

Icarus finished for them. “Iffy.”

Oh. Well, that was fair. “There’s a set of service stairs. The lock for them is like this one, set into the wall, so Slipknot didn’t bother to set up cameras for them since they were the only one who could open it.”

The lock was an utter pain in the ass, honestly. It was barely more than a common turn-lock deadbolt, but the placement of it made it very secure. Slipknot could just reach in and turn the thing; Bailey had to work through a good few inches of wall to get at it.

Finally, they got a hold of the knob for the lock and started twisting. As they worked, they continued explaining. “Security is a lot tighter on the lower floors, since, you know, more likely area for breaking in and out. Which is why we’re not going there. There are enough blind spots on the higher levels that we can get to a window.”

The lock finally turned, and Bailey resisted the urge to pump their fist in triumph. They turned to face the heroes. 

“The windows are reinforced,” Tempest said. “Shatterproof.” 

Bailey gave a little nod. “Yeah. All of them. I have a plan for that too, though. That’s the part where timing is gonna be tricky, because I’ll have to get something, and it’s somewhere that’s monitored. We’ll have a small window of time to break the window and jump out.”

“Um…” Foxfire said. “Gravity?”

“Flight, wind, telekinesis,” Bailey said, pointing to Icarus, Tempest, and themself in turn. “Between the three of us, we should be fine. We don’t need to stop our fall, just slow it.”

Icarus still looked unconvinced, but Tempest just nodded. “Lead on,” he said.

Bailey opened the door, and the group made their way out. Bailey led them through the blindspots they’d mapped to the service stairs. They pressed themselves close to the wall while Bailey opened the locked door.

“If you can open this too, why didn’t Slipknot put surveillance up?” Icarus asked.

“Couldn’t do this originally,” Bailey said, frowning in concentration. The lock was sticking; it probably needed graphite, not that it was likely to get any. 

“They don’t know you can open their special locks?” he pushed.

“No,” Bailey said, trying to keep their tone even. He had made them lose their grip on the fucking lock again. “This was self-taught, if that’s what you’re asking.” 

The lock finally turned, and they opened the door to the stairs.

Now they just had to go up, and up, and up. Joy.

“How’d you learn, anyway?” Foxfire asked. Their voice was at least something more pleasant to focus on than the echoing clang of the group’s footsteps on the stairs. “It doesn’t look like it’s easy to do, so why bother?”

“Lots of exposure,” Bailey said curtly. Their head (and back, and nose, and… everything, honestly) hurt too much to keep their tone polite. 

“Sneaking around behind your boss’s back, Poppet?” Icarus asked snidely.

Bailey couldn’t help but flinch at the name. They resolved that as soon as they were somewhere safe(r), they would tell the heroes their real name. Even if they sided with Icarus and decided to put Bailey down, Bailey was going to go out under their own name. 

They weren’t going to remain as what Slipknot had made them into.

“Something like that,” they huffed. 

It was the truth… if breaking out of the room they were locked in counted as sneaking behind Slipknot’s back. When they’d moved in, Bailey had only known about the lock on the inside of their door. They didn’t know about the one Slipknot had set into the wall, the one that could override their settings. 

And that wasn’t even counting the times Bailey had frequented the cells for various lessons and punishments.

Finally, they reached the floor Bailey needed.

“Is this… a dorm?” Foxfire asked.

“Bigger rooms than your average college dorm, but close enough,” Bailey said. “This is one of the residential floors. There’s a window in the lounge. I just need to get something first.”

“What about other residents?” Tempest asked. 

Bailey shook their head. “Not many of them. I wasn’t kidding about these being bigger than your average college dorm. And they shouldn’t be here anyway; this is training time.” 

Which, of course, was when they ran into someone.

Viper opened her door just in time to see the four go past. She stared at them. 

They stared back.

Viper looked Bailey up and down critically, gaze lingering on their broken nose and stiffly-held shoulder. She seemed to come to a conclusion, and nodded slightly. 

“Hm. Seems that what I thought I heard must have been a remnant from that fever dream I was having,” she said, “because I don’t see anything out here.”

Bailey could have cried. Instead, they managed a small, shaky, “Thank you.” 

She gave them a crooked smile, showing off her fangs. “I sure hope that my fever dream ends before I have my meeting with Slipknot in…” She checked her watch. “Fifteen minutes. It would be very awkward to have to explain that to them.”

She dropped the pretense and added, “Go. Get out of here.”

“Thank you,” Bailey added fervently, then led the heroes off at a run.

They got to Bailey’s room, and Bailey frantically started looking for what they needed. 

“Come on, come on, I know I didn’t get rid of it, where the fuck did I put it after last time…” Bailey muttered under their breath as they pulled out drawers in their dresser. 

“What the fuck was that?” Icarus demanded. “You said there wouldn’t be anyone here!”

“Said there shouldn’t, not wouldn’t,” Bailey corrected. “Forgot that Viper is on bedrest and isn’t at training. And that was our new time limit.”

“Honor among villains?” Foxfire suggested.

Bailey gave a half-hearted smile. “Something like that.” 

Viper was one of the villains on the team who was halfway decent. She followed Slipknot’s orders, but she never went beyond the minimum necessary damages in training or on missions. Of all the people they could have run into during this escape attempt, she was probably the best option.

Bailey continued tearing through their room as they looked; it wasn’t as though it mattered if they made a mess, after all. They wouldn’t be coming back. 

“What are you looking for?” Tempest asked. “Could we help?”

Bailey shook their head. “No, it’s— ugh, why do I still have that— it’s small, you won’t be able to help. It’s a necklace.”

“How’s that gonna help?” Icarus asked skeptically.

“It’s a diamond,” Bailey said. 

Foxfire made a noise of agreement. “Not tougher than crystallized carbon,” they said.

Bailey smiled. They should have guessed Foxfire was a nerd. 

“That won’t work,” Icarus said. “The force you’d have to put behind it—”

Bailey cut him off. “I can do it.” 

He scoffed.

Bailey turned to glare at him. “This isn’t just your life on the line here; it’s mine, too. I’m not playing around. So unless you have a better idea? You’re gonna have to go with what I’ve got.”

They turned back to searching as Icarus gaped at them. They knew they still had it; they’d checked when they made this backup plan. And even before that, they wouldn’t have gotten rid of it. Slipknot had it made from one of the diamonds they’d stolen in the heist that led to Icarus’s intervention. It was both promise and threat, and Slipknot made sure that they wore it to every fancy occasion. 

It wasn’t a collar, but it was a claim of ownership just the same.

Bailey finally found the necklace, and the group made their way to the lounge to make their improvised exit. The heroes cleared the furniture away from the window. Bailey held the diamond necklace in place with their powers, then struck it like a hammer against a chisel. 

The reinforced glass spiderwebbed out from the impact.

“Well, well,” came a horribly familiar voice from behind them. “I have to admit, I didn’t quite expect this.”

Bailey turned to see Slipknot flanked by several other villains, including Viper. 

They’d run out of time. 

The ensuing fight was as vicious as it was chaotic. The villains weren’t holding back, using blows meant to maim or kill. Bailey did their best, but they were already at a disadvantage with their concussion and injured shoulder. Add to that the worry of protecting the heroes, as well? They didn’t really have a chance. 

A stray blow sent the broken glass flying from its frame, and Bailey took their chance. “Go, go, go!” they shouted, practically pulling the heroes out the window with them as they jumped. Something cold hit Bailey’s side, but they didn’t have time to think about it. They were falling. 

All of Slipknot’s sadistic training about heights paid off. With the help of Icarus and Tempest, Bailey was able to get all four of them to the ground safely.

And then they collapsed to one knee. Why… why weren’t their legs working? 

They looked down to their side, where they’d felt the impact of something cold. The handle of a knife sprouted from their skin like a weed. 

That’s not supposed to be there, Bailey thought. 

Like a weed, they plucked it from where it wasn’t supposed to be. 

That was when the pain truly set in. Bailey gasped at the sudden intensity of it, falling to their hands and knees under the unrelenting onslaught. 

Suddenly Foxfire was there, hands warm against Bailey’s skin. They pressed against the wound, making the pain worse. Why were they making it worse? Bailey groaned and tried to push them away, but was too weak.

Foxfire was shouting, but Bailey had trouble focusing on the words. The hero’s face softened with something like… concern? What were they concerned about? Had one of the heroes gotten hurt?

“No, no, Poppet, look at me,” Foxfire said. “Look at me, there you go, keep your focus on me. You’re gonna be okay, just hang on. Hang on!”

Bailey smiled weakly. They rasped, “Bailey.”

“What? Don’t worry about anyone else, just keep looking at me. You’re okay; we’re gonna get you to our medic, just hang on, Poppet.”

Bailey shook their head. “Not Poppet. It’s Bailey.”

Their eyelids were so heavy, far too heavy to keep open. They smiled as their eyes slid shut. “My name is Bailey.”

They were going to go out under their own name, after all.

---

I don't kill my characters, don't kill me please! (Exceptions may apply to irredeemable whumpers. Of which I am not one. Again, please don't kill me.)

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Elijah finally said, “Fine.”

Luke grumbled at that, but even he wasn’t willing to let his (admittedly understandable) grudge get in the way of a possible escape. 

Poppet gave a tight smile and a small nod, wincing at the movement. This close, the bruises on their face looked even worse. They were in civilian clothing, their suit nowhere to be seen. Without their mask, they looked incredibly young and vulnerable. It was hard to reconcile the person in front of them with the damage done to Luke. 

“Great,” Poppet said. “Let me just…” 

They trailed off as they grabbed the wrist of their bad arm with the other. They swore quietly, and moved to lean against a wall. 

Zera caught on to what they were about to do. “Wait!” they half-shouted. 

Were they seriously about to try and set their own shoulder?!

Poppet looked at them, confused. “I have to get it back in place. Sooner’s better than later, it’ll just get harder if I wait. ”

Okay. They were seriously about to try and set their own shoulder. 

“Yeah, but…” Zera struggled to come up with words to explain their protest. How the hell was Poppet so calm about this? 

“You can pop it out again later,” Poppet said, which was so many kinds of horrible Zera didn’t even know where to start. “But I’m gonna need it in place to get us out.”

“That’s not—” Zera sputtered. They really expected the heroes to hurt them like that?!?  Expecting it from Luke, maybe, might be understandable given how he attacked them, but Zera too? 

“Let me do it,” Zera finally said. “I can help.”

“I’ve got it,” Poppet said, shaking their head and immediately looking like they regretted the movement. 

“You really don’t,” Zera said. “That’s a two-handed job, minimum. You can’t get the angle and torque right on it yourself.”

Poppet looked skeptical and unimpressed. “I know what I’m doing,” they said, followed by a nearly inaudible grumble that might have been “worked before”. 

Elijah broke in, his voice allowing no room for disagreement. “Poppet, let Foxfire set your shoulder. Even if you can do it yourself, they’ve got medical training.”

Hesitantly, keeping one eye on Luke the whole time, Poppet walked close enough for Zera to set their shoulder. 

“The fuck was Slipknot on about, anyway?” Luke asked. “About you wanting to go to us.” 

“I was—” Poppet hissed as Zera took hold of their arm. “I was trying to leave. To turn myself in.”

Luke scoffed. “Right, like we’d fall for that.”

Poppet tilted their head to one side, then the other, like they were shrugging without moving their shoulders. “Still better than staying here.”

“Try to relax for me,” Zera said. The villain was so tense Zera was surprised they weren’t trembling with the effort. It was going to make setting their shoulder a lot harder and more painful than it needed to be.

Poppet closed their eyes and breathed in, slow and deep. They let the air out just as slowly, and some of their tension left with it. 

Zera took the opportunity to manipulate their joint back into place. 

The motion was brutal, a harsh twist and shove. Poppet let out a yelp of surprise and pain along with a little shockwave of telekinesis. 

“Fuck, sorry, sorry,” they gasped. “Didn’t— wasn’t trying to attack you. Just caught me off guard. Aren’t you supposed to give a countdown for that!?”

Zera shrugged. “A countdown just lets people tense up and makes it harder to do. Try not to move that arm too much; it may be back in place, but the muscles are still damaged.”

They nodded. “I know.”

That wasn’t exactly comforting. 

They rolled their shoulders a little, testing the range of movement, then nodded. “Let me see if I can get the restraints off.”

“Why were you trying to leave?” Elijah asked as Poppet focused on Zera’s restraints. 

“This isn’t—” Poppet broke off, grimaced, wiped their bleeding nose with the back of a hand, then continued. “I didn’t know what I was getting into. Was just Slipknot’s naive little toy. They said— doesn’t matter. What matters is that I was dumb enough to believe them. By the time I realized what they really were doing, the kind of person they really were? I was too scared to leave.”

There was a sound of metal on metal as Poppet flexed their hand. The chains attached to Zera’s restraints fell off, links torn open. 

“I don’t think I can get the restraints themselves without hurting you,” Poppet said apologetically. “Slipknot uses solid bands and puts them on with their powers. Haven’t been able to open them before, and yours are even thicker than the normal ones.”

“It’s fine,” Zera assured them, trying to keep their voice light even as their mind reeled. They were starting to put together a picture from the information Poppet was giving them, and it wasn’t one they liked. 

Elijah prompted, “What changed your mind?”

Poppet walked over to him and started working on his restraints next. “The stuff that happened with Heroes League a little while ago. With the ‘villain’ who can talk to animals, and how she was taken into custody and now works with the heroes. I figured if you guys were willing to do that, then you might at least hear me out.”

They repeated the same gesture, and Elijah’s chains fell off with a groan of metal. He stretched and nodded gratefully to the villain. 

“As opposed to what?” Zera asked.

Poppet looked at them in confusion. “What?”

“You said you thought we’d at least hear you out, after that story came out,” Zera said. “Hear you out, as opposed to what? What did you think we’d do before that?”

They did the same little head-tilt pseudo-shrug. “Putting me down.” 

Zera boggled at that. Even Luke looked disturbed. It was Elijah who kept his cool and managed to ask, “You thought we’d kill you?”

“Yeah,” Poppet said calmly, like they weren’t discussing their own death. “Slipknot… well. There aren’t a lot of nice things said around here about heroes.”

“We don’t kill people!” Zera said indignantly. 

Poppet looked extremely skeptical. “Right. So there’s never been a case of police using lethal force against powereds and claiming self defense afterwards? There haven’t been heroes put on administrative leave while cases get shuffled around and swept under the rug?”

That was…

Zera couldn’t actually argue against that, was the problem. There was prejudice against powereds, and it sometimes came out as violence. It was part of the reason Heroes League worked primarily with the FBI rather than with local police stations. Even then, there were still problems. 

Heroes might not have the same prejudices as the general public, but they had their own biases to deal with. Many had a tendency to see the world in black and white: good and evil, heroes and villains, right and wrong. Once someone got put into a category, people tended to leave them in that category no matter what they did, whether that was a hero who went off the rails or a villain who was just misunderstood. The organization was actually trying to clean house at the moment, spurred on by the same incident Poppet had mentioned. It had shined a light on Heroes League, and the heroes hadn’t liked what they’d seen. 

Poppet moved to work on Luke’s restraints, though with more trepidation than they’d shown getting near the other two heroes. 

“How the fuck are you so calm about this?” he demanded, looking down to where Poppet had crouched to view his restraints. 

Zera caught a glimpse of Poppet smiling grimly. “I am concussed and running on adrenaline and spite.”

Luke’s chains fell off, and Poppet backed up hastily before he could do anything else. Backed up too hastily, in fact. They managed to trip over air and fell flat on their back. They lay there for a second, blinking hard, probably waiting for the world to stop spinning. 

“I call bullshit,” Luke said, crossing his arms and looking down at the prone villain. “If you’re such a good person who didn’t want to get caught up in all this, how do you explain what you did to me, huh?”

Poppet grinned at that, big and wild and totally out of place. “Because you were right about me, Icarus! I’m just Slipknot’s little toy. Their stupid attack dog.” They let out a giggle that in most circumstances would be cute. Now? It just made Zera concerned about just how bad their concussion was. “Bad dog, trying to run away!”

Zera offered them a hand up, which they took easily. Zera helped them to their feet and stayed there for support as they got their balance. 

“Foxfire,” Elijah said, low and urgent. “Their back.”

“Hm?” Poppet hummed questioningly. Then, “Oh. Well, shit.”

Zera walked behind the villain to see what Elijah was talking about. They sucked air through their teeth as they saw it: splotches of dark liquid seeping through the back of their gray shirt. Zera gripped the hem, ignoring Poppet’s protests as they looked to see just what was wrong. 

Underneath the back of Poppet’s shirt was a mass of bandages. They were decently done, by someone with at least experience if not any training. And Poppet was bleeding through them.

“What the hell,” Zera said. 

“It’s fine,” Poppet said back. “Just re-opened a couple, probably.”

“A couple what?” Luke said, sounding just as baffled as Zera felt.

“Guests got a little rough at Slipknot’s last party,” Poppet said, which didn’t answer anything. “It’s fine. They're clean and bandaged, I’m not going to bleed out, so it can wait.” 

“Poppet, I can—” Zera started, but was cut off. 

“I told you, save your sympathy for someone who deserves it,” Poppet shot back. They started towards the door.

Zera caught their arm before they could get too far. Thankfully, it was the good arm. 

“Hey,” they said. “It’s my sympathy. I’ll do what I want with it. And I’ll decide who’s worthy of it. Okay?” 

They held Poppet’s gaze for a long moment, willing the villain to understand what they meant. They didn’t understand all of this; hell, they barely understood any of it. But Zera was becoming more and more sure that Poppet did deserve their sympathy, and needed their help as much as they needed Poppet’s. 

Poppet didn’t have any response for that.

---

Taglist:

When they’d started thinking about leaving, they’d known that going to the heroes would be dangerous. They knew that when Icarus remembered what they’d done, he would be angry. And he had every right to be! If they had a spine, they would have done something to protect him, more than the paltry amount they did. They might not have killed him, but they sure came close. They’d decided that when he got the memories back, they wouldn’t fight back when he came to take his revenge.

That was when they thought they’d be with the heroes, rather than locked in a cell in Supervillain’s basement. They thought they’d have the chance to give the heroes what information they had on Supervillain so they could at least try to make up for some of the shit they’d done. Icarus might have killed them in that situation, and they would have done their best to let him.

But now? They weren’t willing to give up. They had shit to do first. Namely, make Supervillain regret ever manipulating them.

“You,” Icarus growled.

Don’t you dare cry, Bailey told themself. You don’t get to cry about this. You deserve this.

Bailey swallowed hard. “Yeah. Me,” they rasped.

“‘Yeah, me’? That’s all you have to say?!” Icarus said incredulously.

“Icarus, calm down,” Leader said. “You’re playing right into Supervillain’s hands with this. Why else would they have told you about Poppet?”

“I don’t care!” Icarus yelled. “Whatever reason they had, it’s still this asshole who’s the reason I was benched for months! They nearly killed me!”

It was kill you, or make you wish you were dead.

“And we’ll make sure they’re brought to justice for it,” Leader said, “but we can’t do that if they’re dead.”

“What about in the hospital?” Icarus asked grimly.

Foxfire shook their head. “You really want to stoop to their level? We’re better than that!”

“Oh fuck you!” Icarus shouted. “That’s easy for you to say! You're not the one who went through it! You’re not the one who still has nightmares about it!”

“I’m sorry,” Bailey whispered.

They thought they’d said it quietly, but all three heroes turned to look at them. Leader looked impassive, Foxfire speculative, and Icarus… they shuddered. Icarus looked livid.

“Oh. You’re sorry,” he mocked. “And that makes it all better. I guess I’m supposed to let it all go now, huh? Because you’re sorry?”

They shook their head, wincing as it made their brain feel like it would slosh out their ears. “It means fuck-all, how I feel about it. I still did it.”

“You’re damn right, you did,” Icarus growled. He moved towards them again, but this time, the restraints didn’t stop him.

Oh shit oh shit oh shit. Supervillain lengthened his restraints.

Icarus gave a nasty grin.

Bailey let out a yelp as he pounced. They threw up their hands on instinct, forgetting about their dislocated shoulder until movement made the pain spike again.

The distraction let Icarus pin them to the floor. He dug his knees into their arms and grabbed their throat with one hand, pulling the other back for a punch. They heard a splintering pop as his fist connected with their nose; starbursts covered their vision.

“Icarus, that’s enough!” they heard Leader yell.

Icarus punched Bailey again, this time making contact with their eye.

Bailey suddenly decided that they had had enough. There was a time and a place for Icarus’s revenge, and this wasn’t it.

They grabbed the hand around their throat with their good arm, digging their nails into the space between tendons in the wrist. The pain made Icarus loosen his grip enough that Bailey was able to wrench his hand away. They threw their arm up between them, and slammed Icarus back against the wall with their powers.

The other two heroes grabbed Icarus, one on each arm. He struggled to throw them off, too rage-blind to see that it wasn’t working.

With Icarus more or less under control, Bailey pushed themself up. They had already been in pain from Supervillain’s displeasure, and Icarus hadn’t done them any favors. Getting to their feet was a hard prospect when their throat burned, the world spun, and their skull radiated pain. They leaned hard against the wall to keep their balance.

“You motherfucker! Let me at them!” Icarus was yelling. “I’m gonna kill them!”

“No you fucking well are not,” Leader growled.

“We should hear them out, learn what Supervillain was on about with saying they were trying to come to us!” Foxfire said.

All three heroes started talking over each other in a cacophonous mess that Bailey couldn’t hope to understand. Their head was pounding in time with their exertion-quick heartbeat. The room spun in their peripheral vision, and no amount of blinking could get it to settle. Bailey panted hard. They were about to be sick if something didn’t change.

“Will you all SHUT UP!” they yelled.

It shocked the heroes enough that they did as Bailey said. That alone was worth how Bailey had to force down bile and tears at the increased pain in their head from yelling.

“Supervillain has this entire building rigged with cameras. They’re probably sitting in their office smirking at us right now,” Bailey gritted out between clenched teeth.

They turned and gave the camera a one-fingered salute. “Fuck you! I wish I’d never met you, you manipulative abusive psycho!”

They crushed the cameras with their telekinesis. If they weren’t so damn concussed, they would have thought of that earlier.

Or maybe not. After all, you haven’t exactly been impressing anyone with your intelligence lately.

Bailey panted and turned back to the heroes. “They never do anything without multiple reasons. Throwing me in here with you lot gets rid of me, but it also keeps you too busy to work on escaping.

“Icarus.You want to get your revenge? Fine. I’ll tell you every last thing I did, just so you can repeat it. I’ll give you the goddamn make and model of the taser I used. But I thought that if you heroes were going to put me down, you'd at least have the decency to do it cleanly,” they spat.

“Poppet…” Foxfire said, sounding gutted.

Bailey grimaced at the name and shook their head, then winced as pain spiked through their temples. “Save your sympathy for someone worthy of it.”

They looked at all three heroes in turn. “How about we work together to get the hell out of here, and then you can decide what to do with me?”

------

Taglist:

“I’m leaving, Supervillain,” Bailey repeated.

Supervillain laughed. “And where exactly are you planning to go, hm? All of your contacts are through me! I say one word, and they tell me exactly where you are.”

“No they won’t,” Bailey said, sounding braver than they felt. They gave Supervillain a vicious smile. “Not if they’re heroes rather than villains.”

Supervillain gave a smile of their own, a slow spreading thing made Bailey shiver just looking at it. “Oh, little poppet. You always did have fantastic timing.”

Bailey didn’t give them the satisfaction of showing their confusion. Inwardly, they wracked their brain for what Supervillain could mean. Bailey had timing so bad it was good, was the joke. So if Bailey said they were going to the heroes, and Supervillain said they had great timing…

“This is what you get for skipping the morning meeting,” Supervillain said with mock sympathy. “If you had been there, you would know. We caught the local heroes just last night; they’re downstairs, enjoying my hospitality.”

Bailey shook their head. “You’re lying.” This was just Supervillain trying to manipulate them again, just one more way for them to trick Bailey into staying.

“You can see for yourself, if you like,” Supervillain said.

They lunged.

-------------------

Zera hated getting captured.

Granted, it happened very rarely. The joy of teleportation powers meant that Zera could almost always escape. ‘Almost’ being the key word. They were currently stuck in the cell by a combination of ridiculously dense restraints, and the promise of just what would happen to their teammates if they did manage to escape.

Leader and Teammate were taking their current situation better than Zera was. Maybe it was that they were older, more experienced. Maybe they just had more patience. Either way, neither of them looked like they were about to vibrate out of their skin like Zera felt.

“Anyone for a game of ‘I Spy’?” Zera asked sarcastically. They would pace to get rid of this nervous energy, except their restraints were far too short for that.

“Sure,” Teammate said, just as sarcastic. “I spy, with my little eye, something that—”

“Someone’s coming,” Leader cut him off.

Multiple someones, it sounded like. Footsteps echoed down the hall of the prison, one a distinct ‘click’ like dress shoes on the hard floor, and another more like the scuffling of sneakers.

The approaching figures finally appeared in front of the cell. It was Supervillain, and… Zera frowned at the second figure. Was that Poppet? They thought so, but it was a little hard to tell given the amount of swelling and bruising on their face.

That wasn’t the end of the strangeness, either. Supervillain seemed to be forcing Poppet down the hall. One hand gripped their hair, and the other had an arm twisted behind their back.

Supervillain used their grip in Poppet’s hair to smash their face against the plexiglass door of the cell. “See, little poppet? I told you.”

Poppet let out a groan of pain, and something that included the word “no”.

“Yes,” Supervillain hissed. “See, they tried to take something from me. And you of all people know how much I like to keep what’s mine.”

“Not yours,” Poppet wheezed.

Supervillain twisted Poppet’s arm further behind their back, and the young villain groaned. “Oh, but you are, little poppet. You are mine. I made you. Without me, you’d be just some stray with a gift you hadn’t even scratched the surface of.”

Supervillain twisted their arm further, until something gave with a sharp pop. Poppet cried out. Supervillain leaned closer to the young villain and spoke directly into their ear, too quiet for Zera to hear.

“You wanted to go to the heroes, Poppet?” Supervillain reached into the wall beside the cell to open the door. “Here you go.”

With that, they shoved Poppet into the cell. Poppet stumbled with a whimper, barely managing to catch themself before they fell on their already bruised face. Supervillain closed the cell again and watched the villain with something like vicious satisfaction on their face.

The three heroes glanced at each other.

Zera mouthed, What the fuck.

Teammate shrugged. Leader shook his head.

Well, at least it wasn’t just Zera that was in the dark about what was going on. Was this some kind of villainous break-up fight? Supervillain said that Poppet was trying to leave, to go to the heroes. Were they trying to turn themself in?

“Oh, and Icarus?” Supervillain said brightly.

All three heroes turned back to the door.

Supervillain gave them a grin. “I’m sure you’ve been wondering just who it was that put you in the hospital, Icarus. What would you do to that person, if you had the chance?”

“About the same as I’m going to do to you once we get out of here,” Teammate growled.

From the corner of their eye, Zera could see Poppet pushing themself up off the floor. Their face was drawn, eyes wide enough to show the sclera all the way around the iris.

“Well, I’m feeling magnanimous today,” Supervillain said. “So I’ll give you another gift. The gift of information.”

Zera turned to see Poppet shaking their head and mouthing the word no, over and over. They were slowly inching towards the back of the cell, away from where the three heroes were restrained to the wall.

“Spit it out already, asshole,” Teammate yelled.

“Ooh, touchy,” Supervillain said with a smirk. “Sore subject?”

Very sore, in fact. It had been months since Teammate returned to active duty on the hero roster, but they still had nightmares about the events that put them in the hospital at least once a week.

“I know exactly who it was that did all those horrible things to you,” Supervillain said. “Broke all those bones, gave you those burns, the traumatic brain injury? How long did it take you to recover from that?”

“Six months,” Teammate ground out.

“Oof. That’s harsh,” Supervillain said. “What kind of horrible person would do such a thing?”

Zera caught movement in their peripheral vision and turned to see Poppet huddled against the back wall, shaking their head back and forth.

They had a bad feeling about this.

“Either give us the information, or don’t,” Leader said calmly. “Pick one and go.”

“As if you’re in any position to be bargaining,” Supervillain said with a laugh. “But fine. I’ll tell you. It was my little Poppet here. They’re quite ruthless, when they put their mind to it.”

“No, no, no,” Poppet chanted, barely loud enough for Zera to hear.

“You,” Teammate growled, and lunged for the villain. He came up short and jerked to a stop as he hit the end of his restraints.

“Like I said, another gift,” Supervillain said. “The first one being this chance to interact with your attacker like this.”

They turned and started to leave. They called over their shoulder, “Have fun, you four!”

The three heroes turned to the villain.

----------

Taglist (let me know if you would prefer not to be tagged in this AU, as I might continue it):

Taglist:

@heathenville @nonbinary-disaster @kim-poce @whump-world 

@dolls-circus @pickleking8 @ghostfacepepper @cupcakes-and-pain @badluck990 

@mylifeisonthebookshelf @pumpkin-spice-whump @deluxewhump @extemporary-whump @whumpwillow 

@multiple-characters1-acct @sunflower1000 @fleur-alise @equestrianwritingsstuff @scp-1296 

@livingforthewhump @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @suspicious-whumping-egg @kaiwewi @lelly-belly 

@neuro-whump @newbornwhumperfly @whumpthisway @whumpcreations @wicked-whump 

@heart4brains @myhusbandsasemni @how-to-be-a-hero @kixngiggles @kurochan 

@whumpsday @extrabitterbrain @pattonvirglsanders @neverthelass @we-write-as-one 

@elrysdoesstuff @whumperflies-and-roses @ha-ha-one @whatwhumpcomments @ramadiiiisme 

@heathenville @nonbinary-disaster @kim-poce @whump-world 

@dolls-circus @pickleking8 @ghostfacepepper @cupcakes-and-pain @badluck990 

@mylifeisonthebookshelf @pumpkin-spice-whump @deluxewhump @extemporary-whump @whumpwillow 

@multiple-characters1-acct @sunflower1000 @fleur-alise @equestrianwritingsstuff @scp-1296 

@livingforthewhump @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @suspicious-whumping-egg @kaiwewi @lelly-belly 

@neuro-whump @newbornwhumperfly @whumpthisway @whumpcreations @wicked-whump 

@heart4brains @myhusbandsasemni @how-to-be-a-hero @kixngiggles @kurochan 

@whumpsday @extrabitterbrain @pattonvirglsanders @neverthelass @we-write-as-one 

@elrysdoesstuff @whumperflies-and-roses @ha-ha-one @whatwhumpcomments @ramadiiiisme 

---

“I’m in position,” Zera said softly into their comm. 

“Good,” came Elijah’s tinny voice. “Find out what it is they’re auctioning and get out. Just recon, nothing else.”

Zera tamped down on the anger welling up in them at that. He was right, after all. As much as Zera might want to help if someone was in danger, there were too many people here. 

There were too many villains. 

Iris had found the information about the auction with one of her programs. Zera couldn’t claim to understand what she had said when she explained it. Something about the dark web, VPNs, and honeypots? What Zera did understand was that she had found the coordinates, date, and time of an auction being planned. An auction to which all of the villains who could make it to the area were invited.

What she hadn’t found was information about what was being auctioned. All the heroes knew was that it had to be something big. Something dangerous. Potentially catastrophic if left in the wrong hands. 

Zera was there to find out just what it was that had drawn so much attention.

“Got it,” they replied. “Find out what’s being auctioned, stay to see who buys it if it’s safe, then get out.”

“Exactly. Comms blackout starts now.” 

With that, Zera’s earpiece went dead. They felt a shiver travel up their spine at the idea of being unable to reach their team. It was necessary—there were too many technopaths in the villain world for any comms to be safe in this situation—but they still hated it. They settled into their hiding spot in the rafters, making themself comfortable for the wait.

The seats in the old theater started filling up. Zera recognized many of them. Ice Queen, Black Fox, The Piper, Livewire, Miss Eerie… these weren’t just local small-time villains. Some of these were international supervillains. 

What the hell was special enough to draw them all here!?

Finally, the lights in the hall dimmed and the chatter went silent. All eyes turned to the stage. 

The figure who walked out wore an expensive tailored suit. The click of their dress shoes against the stage reverberated through the hall as they walked to the spotlight. The domino mask they wore was a decorative, lacy thing that wouldn’t have been out of place at a masquerade ball. 

Slipknot gestured like they were embracing the gathered crowd, and the villains in attendance applauded.

“Welcome, welcome!” Slipknot greeted their audience. Their voice was amplified and played through speakers throughout the hall, giving the disconcerting impression that they were everywhere.

The hall quieted, and Slipknot continued. “Thank you all for coming. I promised you something special, and you won’t be disappointed.”

They clicked their fingers, and a second figure emerged from off-stage. This one lacked Slipknot’s refined poise. Their suit was meant for combat, not elegance; their mask was utilitarian, not decorative. 

Poppet looked as out of place as a bloodstain on a wedding dress amidst the finery of the hall. 

They reached Slipknot’s side and sank to their knees beside the supervillain, head bowed. Slipknot placed a hand on the back of their neck; Poppet didn’t so much as flinch.

What. The. Hell. 

“As many of you know, I have been training a protege for the last few years,” Slipknot said. “My Poppet has come on in leaps and bounds in terms of their powers. Their telekinesis can be used for both brute force and finesse. For more detail, just look at the news.” 

That got a chuckle from the audience. 

“I am here to auction off one month of Poppet’s service. During that time, they will be yours to command as you see fit. They must be returned at the end of the month in the same condition they are now: all limbs attached and functioning.” Slipknot grinned at that. 

Zera felt like they’d swallowed a stone. Poppet was their nemesis, sure, but that didn’t mean they deserved this. Hell, Zera almost enjoyed fighting the villain! They were smart and witty, something that Zera learned when getting to banter with them between blows. And lately, those blows had been barely connecting. The villain had been going easy on them for some reason. Zera hadn’t had so much as a nosebleed from fighting Poppet in the last month. And okay, yes, some of that was that Poppet had been suspiciously absent for the past few weeks, but the point still stood!  

Poppet finally showed up, only for it to be here? 

Slipknot was willing to sell their own apprentice? Like they were nothing more than a weapon, an object? A guard dog to be loaned and traded?

“The bidding starts at one million dollars,” Slipknot said. 

Zera needed to get out of there. They needed to get back to their team, to report on this. To let everyone know just how ruthless Slipknot was.

But… 

Wouldn’t it be useful to know just who bought Poppet’s services? That way they could make plans for what that villain might do. Maybe they could even rescue capture Poppet during that time. And Elijah had said they could stick around if they deemed it safe…

Their thoughts were cut off by a sharp sting in their neck, followed by a wave of coldness seeping out from that spot. They turned their head to see Viper, a villain specializing in poisons, standing a few meters away with a… blowgun?

They reached a hand—why was that so hard to do?—to their neck. Their fingers brushed against something, and they pulled it out. 

A dart. She had hit them with a dart. A dart that had to have some kind of paralytic or sedative or something, because their body wasn’t responding correctly to their commands. 

Viper touched a hand to her ear before speaking. “Yeah, caught them sniffing around just like you suspected. I’ll bring them down now.”

The next thing Zera knew, they were being manhandled. Time was acting funny, too fast and too slow at once, like molasses shot from a cannon. A blink later and they were dropped to the shiny wood floor of the stage.

“And as a bonus, I’ll include custody of the hero Foxfire to whoever wins the bid on Poppet,” Slipknot said smugly. 

Zera’s eyelids were too heavy to stay open. The last thing they saw before they closed their eyes was Poppet, staring at them in horror from behind their mask.

---

Zera woke up with a scream stuck in their throat. Everything ached, a bone-deep pain that seemed to throb in time with their heartbeat. 

“I’m sorry,” came a small voice. 

Zera managed to turn their head to see the speaker. 

It was Poppet. They were no longer in their suit, but rather civilian clothing. The change in outfit revealed dark bruises ringing their wrists and decorating their arms. Zera winced in sympathy. 

“I’m so sorry,” Poppet said again.

---

Taglist:

Taglist:

@heathenville @nonbinary-disaster @kim-poce @whump-world @dolls-circus @pickleking8 @ghostfacepepper @cupcakes-and-pain @badluck990 @mylifeisonthebookshelf @pumpkin-spice-whump @deluxewhump @extemporary-whump @whumpwillow @multiple-characters1-acct @sunflower1000 @fleur-alise @equestrianwritingsstuff, @scp-1296 @livingforthewhump @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @suspicious-whumping-egg @kaiwewi @lelly-belly @neuro-whump @newbornwhumperfly @whumpthisway, @whumpcreations, @wicked-whump @heart4brains, @myhusbandsasemni @how-to-be-a-hero @kixngiggles @kurochan @whumpsday @extrabitterbrain @pattonvirglsanders @neverthelass @we-write-as-one @elrysdoesstuff @whumperflies-and-roses @ha-ha-one @whatwhumpcomments @ramadiiiisme @towerlesskey @emmanemanemm @pigeonwhumps

They grabbed something by their side, then carefully scooted closer. 

“Sorry, I know I’m probably the last person you want helping you,” they said softly. “But you need water, and right now you’d probably just spill it on your own.”

Zera hummed a little ‘it’s fine’ kind of noise, hoping that the point got across. 

Poppet seemed to interpret the noise differently than Zera intended, because they sounded even more guilt-stricken when they spoke again. 

“Yeah, sorry,” Poppet said. “I know. Villain, hero, nemeses. You have no reason to trust me. But I’m not trying to make this worse, I promise. I’m trying to help.”

Zera looked at them in confusion. The way they had to crane their head made Poppet appear upside-down in their field of vision. The thin skin beneath Poppet’s big blue eyes was stained a dark purple from lack of sleep, trauma, or both. 

“Yeah,” they croaked out. “I believe you. ‘S fine.”

Poppet’s expression bloomed into something vulnerable, all wide eyes and raised eyebrows and slightly parted lips. It might have been disbelief, or incredulity, or maybe something like hope. Zera was in no state to interpret it.

The moment passed, and the villain looked down and away. “You need water,” they said. “Is it okay if I prop you up against my leg to make it easier?”

Zera rasped out a yeah, not willing to risk another nonverbal miscommunication.

Poppet gently maneuvered them so their head was propped against Poppet’s thigh. Then they lifted a cup of water to Zera’s lips, helping the hero take tiny sips at a time. 

The water was lukewarm and tasted metallic. Zera was too thirsty to care. Slowly, their mouth stopped feeling like they tried to swallow a bag of cotton balls, and the ache in their head shrank enough to allow other thoughts to trickle in. 

“Thanks,” Zera said. 

Poppet shrugged and shifted uncomfortably. “It’s the least I can do.”

Zera didn’t know what to make of this. Poppet’s reactions, as well as the auction itself, didn’t make sense. They were missing something, some critical center piece of this puzzle that would make it all fit together properly. 

For now, they didn’t even know enough to ask the right questions. Figuring out that particular mystery would have to wait.

“What happened?” they asked.

Poppet flinched. The movement was small, but Zera still noticed. Another puzzle piece to add to the pile. 

“You, um,” Poppet started, then paused to bite their cheek. Finally they continued, “You were scoping out the auction, I’m guessing? And Viper found you, drugged you, brought you to the stage.”

“I remember that much,” Zera said wryly. “Slipknot said…” 

Ugh, what was it? It was fuzzy, like the thoughts you have when trying to fall asleep. They frowned. 

“They threw you in as a bonus lot, basically,” Poppet said quietly. 

“Ugh,” Zera said with feeling. “Who bought us?”

Poppet bit their cheek again. 

Zera twisted so they were facing their cellmate, rather than looking up at them. They couldn’t be sure they were reading the expression correctly upside down. But now that they were seeing it right-side up? Poppet looked… guilty. 

“Poppet,” Zera said, trying their best to channel Elijah’s don’t-argue-with-me tone. “Who bought us?”

The villain’s expression collapsed in on itself. “I don’t know,” they admitted, tone barely above a whisper.

“You don’t know?!” Zera repeated incredulously. “How can you not know! Were you not paying attention to who was going to buy you!?” 

This time, Poppet’s flinch was far less subtle. “I’m sorry,” they said. They sounded like they wanted to beg for mercy but knew it wouldn’t come. 

Zera groaned and rubbed weakly at their eyes. Getting worked up wasn’t getting them answers; all it was doing was making their headache come back. 

“No, I- ugh. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten mad,” Zera said. “I just… Can you help me understand? Please? It didn’t seem like they were planning to take you off-stage, so I’m just… confused.”

There was a long pause.

“You weren’t breathing,” Poppet said, like they were confessing a sin.

“What?”

“You… After they got you on-stage, after you passed out. I think you must have reacted badly? To Viper’s drugs? You stopped breathing. You were turning blue,” Poppet said.

Zera winced at the thought. They knew, from Maeve and their own studies, that breathing issues were a potential complication of sedation. They’d just never thought about that in terms of Viper’s poisons.

“Okay…” they said slowly, thinking it through. “But I don’t understand how that connects.”

Poppet looked like they were holding back tears at this point. They took a deep breath before speaking again. “I told Slipknot about it, but they didn’t, wouldn’t, do anything. They were, um. Not happy, that I interrupted them.”

Their fingers went to their throat. It made Zera notice something they hadn’t before: a slim metal band encircling the villain’s neck. 

Was that a shock collar?

“They didn’t do anything, but…” Poppet sniffed hard. “They let me.”

“Let you what?” Zera asked, unsure that they really wanted to know the answer.

“Help you,” Poppet answered, sounding like they were admitting a crime rather than saying how they’d potentially saved Zera’s life. “I don’t know who bought us because I wasn’t paying attention to the bidders. I was paying more attention to making sure you got oxygen.”

Zera stared, incredulous, at Poppet for a long, tense moment. That was… Why was Poppet talking like this was a horrible mistake they’d made? Like Zera would be furious for it? They’d saved Zera’s life!

“Thank you,” they said, trying to put all their feelings into the simple words. 

Poppet shook their head hard enough to give Zera a vicarious headache. “You don’t get it,” they said, angry and miserable in equal measure. “This isn’t— I fucked up, okay? That’s the whole reason I’m in this mess in the first place! This is my punishment, and now I’ve gone and dragged you into it too!”

Zera put a hand on their arm. “Woah, calm down. What do you mean?”

“I—” They cut off abruptly and looked away, biting their cheek hard. “I wasn’t fighting you hard enough. That’s why Slipknot organized the auction.”

Zera smiled. “I knew it. I’m good, but not that good.”

Poppet’s eyes flicked back to Zera, and they gave a little smile too. “You are good.” The smile disappeared as they continued. “But now? I really fucked up, Foxfire.”

“How?” 

“I let an entire audience of villains know that I care about you,” they confessed. “That I care if you get hurt, if you live or die. That’s… This isn’t a good thing. Whoever bought us? They were already gonna do whatever it took to get me to do their dirty work. I just handed them another tool.”

They looked pointedly at Zera’s neck. Zera raised a hand to find another collar there, presumably the same as the one Poppet was wearing. 

“Shock collar?” they asked. 

Poppet nodded miserably. “You may have already been in this mess, but my actions dragged you down a lot deeper.” They paused to sniff again. “You should port out of here. First chance you get? Run, and don’t look back.

“But,” Zera said, thinking about how Poppet insinuated their captors would hurt Zera to motivate them, “wouldn’t they hurt you if I did?”

They shrugged and looked away. “Doesn’t matter. I’ve already fucked up my own life; don’t let me fuck yours up, too.”

Nope. No, that was absolutely not going to work. Zera couldn’t let that stand.

They gently squeezed Poppet’s arm. “Hey. Look at me?”

Reluctantly, Poppet did.

“Thanks,” Zera said with a smile. “Firstly? Thank you, for saving my life. Whatever consequences come from that? Those are not your fault. That blame is squarely on anyone who would use someone’s decency against them. Caring about someone isn’t a fuck-up. And I’m a little biased here, but I’m really fucking grateful that you were brave enough to do that.”

“Do what?” Poppet asked quietly.

“Stand up to your mentor like that,” Zera replied. “It sounds like they’re, uh, not the easiest person to say no to.”

Poppet gave a laugh that was two-thirds sob. “No, they’re really, really not.”

Zera gave a wry smile. “Yeah. And as for me porting out if I get a chance? Not just no, but hell no.”

“What?” 

“I’m not going to just leave you here to deal with the consequences of that!” Zera laughed incredulously. “That’d be a seriously dick move!”

Poppet frowned and shook their head. “But I—”

“Nope,” Zera cut them off. “No saying it doesn’t matter. It does. You matter, Poppet.”

Their eyes went all misty at that. Shit. How long had it been since someone had shown them even a scrap of kindness?

“I… I’m not sure I believe you,” they said hoarsely. “But. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Zera said, managing a weak grin. “Besides. My team will find us before too long. We just have to keep from dying of boredom until then.”

They knew damn well they’d have other things to worry about besides boredom, but the point of this was to make Poppet feel better, not worse.

Poppet nodded hesitantly. “Yeah. Your team will get you.”

“Get us,” Zera corrected. “I’m not going to leave you behind.”

“Right.” Poppet looked down, avoiding Zera’s gaze. “When they get us… I know you’re heroes, and that you— that there are things you do, with villains you capture. I understand that. I’m not trying to get out of that. Just… can you make it fast?”

Zera nodded. After-mission debriefs were always tough. Combine that with the interrogation that Poppet had coming, and Zera definitely understood the desire to get it over with quickly.

“Of course, yeah. I’ll make sure it’s as painless as possible.”

Poppet sighed in relief, suddenly looking very, very tired. “Thank you.”

---

Taglist:

It was Bailey’s mantra now; it had been since… since it happened. By the time of the auction, Bailey was numb to their surroundings. The last thing that they had truly felt was Slipknot’s… displeasure, when they found out that Bailey had been holding back in their fights against Foxfire. 

The punishment had been severe, but Bailey had become used to those by now. It seemed they couldn’t do anything right anymore; punishments were the norm rather than the exception. That hadn’t been the worst part. 

The worst part was the collar. 

It was slim. It sat beneath the neckline of their suit, not even disrupting their silhouette. It was still obtrusive enough for Bailey to feel it every time they swallowed. 

A constant reminder of their new position.

If you’re going to act like a misbehaving dog, little poppet, then I’ll treat you like one. 

Bailey’s hands shook at the remembered pain, the shocks licking up and down their nerves.

No. No, they weren’t going to think of that. They were stone. 

Stone didn’t care that it had disappointed its mentor. Stone didn’t care that its mentor was determined to get “at least some use out of you, after all the work I put in”.

Stone didn’t care who it was sold to.

Nothing would break through Bailey’s self-imposed numbness. They would survive; nothing else mattered. 

That certainty splintered when Viper brought Foxfire down to the stage, carelessly dropping them like so much baggage. 

Bailey’s breath caught at the sight of the hero limp and unmoving. Were they…?

“And as a bonus, I’ll include custody of the hero Foxfire to whoever wins the bid on Poppet,” they heard Slipknot say. 

Their breath came unstuck from their throat at the confirmation. Their The hero was alive. Foxfire was more valuable alive than dead.

For now.

Bailey ignored the sounds of Slipknot playing auctioneer above them. They focused solely on Foxfire. 

The hero looked… well. Not good, because they were far too still and silent to be good. Foxfire’s personality was as bright and vivacious as the blue fire they named themself after, as the trails left by their own teleportation powers. Seeing them so quiet was unnerving, unnatural. But physically, they looked unharmed. 

(Of course they were unharmed. Heroes weren’t like villains; they looked after their own. And anyway, to the heroes, Bailey’s disappearance wouldn’t have been something worthy of punishment anyway. It would have been worthy of praise. Bailey had no reason to be worried about their nemesis, even beyond the fact that they shouldn’t be worrying about their nemesis.)

Foxfire stared sleepily back at Bailey. Their hazel eyes, usually so bright and mischievous behind their dark mask, looked hazy and dull. They blinked once, twice, eyelids moving slower each time.

Then the eyes didn’t reopen. 

Bailey bit back on their cry of alarm. Nothing good would come of the villains knowing they cared about the hero. At best, it would bring mockery. At worst?

At worst, Bailey would be painting a target on Foxfire’s back. The hero was already going to be sold to the same person as them. If their buyer knew about Bailey’s sympathies, they wouldn’t hesitate to use that as another way to force Bailey’s cooperation.

Bailey wouldn't be helping Foxfire that way. They needed to keep calm, and keep silent. 

Foxfire was fine. Foxfire would continue to be fine. They were just unconscious, drugged with whatever concoction Viper had used. 

It got harder and harder to convince themself of that as they watched Foxfire’s breaths become ever shallower. 

When they could no longer see the hero’s chest rise and fall, Bailey couldn’t hold it in any longer. They had to say something.

“Slipknot, they’re not breathing,” Bailey said quietly.

The hand on Bailey’s neck tightened in a silent warning. 

A warning that Bailey ignored. 

“Slipknot, they’re not breathing,” Bailey repeated, louder this time. 

Their collar activated. Every muscle in Bailey’s body went rigid as electricity coursed through them. Even after the collar deactivated, they still twitched and shook with the after-effects.

Slipknot wanted them silent, and was willing to enforce that behavior through whatever means necessary. If Bailey were smart, they’d shut up and do as they were supposed to.

If Bailey were smart, they never would have been in this situation to begin with. 

“They’re not breathing!” Bailey shouted. 

Foxfire’s lips were starting to turn blue as their body starved of oxygen. Whatever Viper had used, the hero was reacting poorly to it.

“You want to sell custody of a hero?” Bailey continued. “That’s gonna be hard to do if the hero is dead!” 

They twisted in their mentor’s grip to look up at them, hoping to appeal to something, anything, that would make Slipknot listen.

A discontented rumble emerged from the gathered crowd. 

Slipknot stared down at Bailey with amused disdain. When they spoke, it wasn’t amplified for the crowd to hear. These words were just for Bailey.

“You care about if they live or die, poppet?” Slipknot scoffed. “I knew you were weak, but this?”

Bailey just stared pleadingly at them, not daring to speak further.

Slipknot smiled at them, expression devoid of kindness. “You think this would make any difference to them? They're still a hero, little poppet. You know what they'd do to you."

Bailey swallowed hard and nodded. They did know. Captured villains didn’t last long in hero custody—only as long as it took for the heroes to get the information and satisfaction they wanted out of them. Bailey had seen the scars their teammates had from close calls and narrow escapes. 

Bailey wouldn’t be thanked for their actions here. If Foxfire lived through this, they wouldn’t hesitate to capture Bailey. They would pay for their actions against the heroes, and the punishment would undoubtedly be worse after this. After they’d shown that they cared, revealed that vulnerability for any villain here to exploit. 

Maybe it was selfish to want to make sure the hero they cared about admired would survive. Wanting to keep their the hero alive even knowing that Foxfire would be hurt. Would be hurt because of them, something they’d been trying so hard to avoid in their fights. 

If that was selfish? Then Bailey was selfish. 

“Please,” they said. 

Slipknot raised an eyebrow, then shook their head. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” With that, they shoved Bailey forward.

Bailey collapsed to their hands and knees, but quickly recovered enough to crawl towards the unconscious hero. They stared down at Foxfire’s limp form, unsure of what to do. 

Think, Bailey, think!

Okay. Foxfire wasn’t breathing. They needed oxygen. Bailey had oxygen, and they knew how to give rescue breaths. 

They could do this. They would save Foxfire, no matter what repercussions it brought. 

Bailey tilted the hero’s head back and pressed their mouth against Foxfire’s. Their cheeks heated as they remembered a scene they had imagined, where this same motion had happened for very different reasons. They ignored their embarrassment; they could blush about this later.

For now? Bailey kept going. They ignored how Slipknot resumed the auction; they tuned out the sound of villains bidding on them. All that mattered was Foxfire, and the terrible intimacy of breathing for another person.

---

Taglist:

---

“I’m in position,” Zera said softly into their comm. 

“Good,” came Elijah’s tinny voice. “Find out what it is they’re auctioning and get out. Just recon, nothing else.”

Zera tamped down on the anger welling up in them at that. He was right, after all. As much as Zera might want to help if someone was in danger, there were too many people here. 

There were too many villains. 

Iris had found the information about the auction with one of her programs. Zera couldn’t claim to understand what she had said when she explained it. Something about the dark web, VPNs, and honeypots? What Zera did understand was that she had found the coordinates, date, and time of an auction being planned. An auction to which all of the villains who could make it to the area were invited.

What she hadn’t found was information about what was being auctioned. All the heroes knew was that it had to be something big. Something dangerous. Potentially catastrophic if left in the wrong hands. 

Zera was there to find out just what it was that had drawn so much attention.

“Got it,” they replied. “Find out what’s being auctioned, stay to see who buys it if it’s safe, then get out.”

“Exactly. Comms blackout starts now.” 

With that, Zera’s earpiece went dead. They felt a shiver travel up their spine at the idea of being unable to reach their team. It was necessary—there were too many technopaths in the villain world for any comms to be safe in this situation—but they still hated it. They settled into their hiding spot in the rafters, making themself comfortable for the wait.

The seats in the old theater started filling up. Zera recognized many of them. Ice Queen, Black Fox, The Piper, Livewire, Miss Eerie… these weren’t just local small-time villains. Some of these were international supervillains. 

What the hell was special enough to draw them all here!?

Finally, the lights in the hall dimmed and the chatter went silent. All eyes turned to the stage. 

The figure who walked out wore an expensive tailored suit. The click of their dress shoes against the stage reverberated through the hall as they walked to the spotlight. The domino mask they wore was a decorative, lacy thing that wouldn’t have been out of place at a masquerade ball. 

Slipknot gestured like they were embracing the gathered crowd, and the villains in attendance applauded.

“Welcome, welcome!” Slipknot greeted their audience. Their voice was amplified and played through speakers throughout the hall, giving the disconcerting impression that they were everywhere.

The hall quieted, and Slipknot continued. “Thank you all for coming. I promised you something special, and you won’t be disappointed.”

They clicked their fingers, and a second figure emerged from off-stage. This one lacked Slipknot’s refined poise. Their suit was meant for combat, not elegance; their mask was utilitarian, not decorative. 

Poppet looked as out of place as a bloodstain on a wedding dress amidst the finery of the hall. 

They reached Slipknot’s side and sank to their knees beside the supervillain, head bowed. Slipknot placed a hand on the back of their neck; Poppet didn’t so much as flinch.

What. The. Hell. 

“As many of you know, I have been training a protege for the last few years,” Slipknot said. “My Poppet has come on in leaps and bounds in terms of their powers. Their telekinesis can be used for both brute force and finesse. For more detail, just look at the news.” 

That got a chuckle from the audience. 

“I am here to auction off one month of Poppet’s service. During that time, they will be yours to command as you see fit. They must be returned at the end of the month in the same condition they are now: all limbs attached and functioning.” Slipknot grinned at that. 

Zera felt like they’d swallowed a stone. Poppet was their nemesis, sure, but that didn’t mean they deserved this. Hell, Zera almost enjoyed fighting the villain! They were smart and witty, something that Zera learned when getting to banter with them between blows. And lately, those blows had been barely connecting. The villain had been going easy on them for some reason. Zera hadn’t had so much as a nosebleed from fighting Poppet in the last month. And okay, yes, some of that was that Poppet had been suspiciously absent for the past few weeks, but the point still stood!  

Poppet finally showed up, only for it to be here? 

Slipknot was willing to sell their own apprentice? Like they were nothing more than a weapon, an object? A guard dog to be loaned and traded?

“The bidding starts at one million dollars,” Slipknot said. 

Zera needed to get out of there. They needed to get back to their team, to report on this. To let everyone know just how ruthless Slipknot was.

But… 

Wouldn’t it be useful to know just who bought Poppet’s services? That way they could make plans for what that villain might do. Maybe they could even rescue capture Poppet during that time. And Elijah had said they could stick around if they deemed it safe…

Their thoughts were cut off by a sharp sting in their neck, followed by a wave of coldness seeping out from that spot. They turned their head to see Viper, a villain specializing in poisons, standing a few meters away with a… blowgun?

They reached a hand—why was that so hard to do?—to their neck. Their fingers brushed against something, and they pulled it out. 

A dart. She had hit them with a dart. A dart that had to have some kind of paralytic or sedative or something, because their body wasn’t responding correctly to their commands. 

Viper touched a hand to her ear before speaking. “Yeah, caught them sniffing around just like you suspected. I’ll bring them down now.”

The next thing Zera knew, they were being manhandled. Time was acting funny, too fast and too slow at once, like molasses shot from a cannon. A blink later and they were dropped to the shiny wood floor of the stage.

“And as a bonus, I’ll include custody of the hero Foxfire to whoever wins the bid on Poppet,” Slipknot said smugly. 

Zera’s eyelids were too heavy to stay open. The last thing they saw before they closed their eyes was Poppet, staring at them in horror from behind their mask.

---

Zera woke up with a scream stuck in their throat. Everything ached, a bone-deep pain that seemed to throb in time with their heartbeat. 

“I’m sorry,” came a small voice. 

Zera managed to turn their head to see the speaker. 

It was Poppet. They were no longer in their suit, but rather civilian clothing. The change in outfit revealed dark bruises ringing their wrists and decorating their arms. Zera winced in sympathy. 

“I’m so sorry,” Poppet said again.

---

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“Fun, right?” he said. He twiddled his fingers, and Poppet jerked to and fro in tandem with his movements. It was an awful sort of dance, where they looked dragged around by invisible strings.

Cuffs, it took Zera a moment to realize. There were cuffs around Poppet’s wrists and ankles. And… was that a collar? 

Forgemaster was using his metal control to move Poppet via their restraints. 

Poppet dropped into a jerky bow, then fell to their knees, hands behind their back. Only then did they raise their head to take in who all was in the room. Their eyes— one swollen near-shut, one shining with unshed tears— widened as they caught sight of Zera. 

“Foxfire,” they said like a prayer. “Foxfire, please…”

Zera had to make a snap decision, quickly weighing the costs and benefits like they were trained to do in the field. The so-called ‘heroes’ were looking between Poppet and Zera like sharks waiting for the first drop of blood in the water. Zera wasn’t in any shape to take on an entire hero team. On top of that, they didn’t know what all the team had done to Poppet, and teleportation with a passenger wasn’t instantaneous. 

Which meant that Zera needed to play along.

Which meant that Poppet needed to shut up.

They crossed over to Poppet in a few long strides and stuck two fingers in Poppet’s mouth. 

“Aw, you poor little thing,” they crooned, mock-sweetly. “Haven’t you realized that no one wants you to use that mouth for talking?”

They moved their fingers in and out of the villain’s mouth, deliberate and suggestive. Around them, the heroes cheered raucously. 

“Ha! Didn’t think you had it in you!” Leader said. “Honestly I thought you were too uptight for this kind of fun.”

“My team is a little stricter than yours,” Zera said, eyes never leaving Poppet’s face. The villain wasn’t wearing their mask. They’d never realized Poppet had freckles before. “So I play nice in public. But if you lot are going to have some fun, I might as well join in.”

Poppet made a muffled noise around Zera’s fingers. It might have been a sob. They were looking at Zera with such betrayal that it made them feel sick.

Zera didn’t have time to feel sick. There would be time to be sick, or scream, or otherwise react to this shit later. For now, they had not only their own well-being to think about, but someone else’s as well. To get them both out of this, Zera needed to keep their head. They ruthlessly compartmentalized the feeling, stuffing it in a box to unpack when they were safe.

“Where did you find them, anyway?” they asked. 

“Like I said, they showed up at our door,” Leader explained. “Begged us to take them in. Said they’d do anything as long as we got them away from… whoever it was they were running from. Including being our pet. So, I took them up on the offer.”

“Interesting…” Zera said. 

Why had Poppet come here, of all places? They weren’t based here, as far as any of the Heroes League could tell. It was far more likely they were based in Zera’s own city, given the location of their crimes.

“May I?” they asked, gesturing between Poppet and the table where they’d left their beer.

Leader nodded, looking amused.

Zera pulled their fingers from Poppet’s mouth and wiped them dry on the villain’s hair. A fine tremble went through Poppet at the contact. 

I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Zera thought desperately, even as they kept up their cruel smirk. 

They walked to the table and pulled out a chair to sprawl in. They crooked a finger at Poppet, saying, “Come.”

Forgemaster flexed his hands as the villain began to stand. “No,” he said.  “Bad pet.” 

Zera couldn’t tell what he had done at first. It wasn’t until Poppet began making choked gasps, face slowly turning more and more red, that they realized. 

He had tightened their collar. 

After a few long seconds, he loosened it again. The air was filled with the sound of Poppet desperately sucking in air.

“Try that again,” Forgemaster said, looking at Zera.

Zera repeated the motion. “Come.”

“On your knees, pet,” he said. “And don’t keep our guest waiting.”

Poppet hobbled over, struggling to keep their balance on their knees with their arms cuffed behind them. Zera’s mind was racing at how to handle the situation. This team was even more volatile and unhinged than they’d first realized. They needed to keep Poppet safe until they could get both of them out. Even that short bit of choking could cause serious damage; they couldn’t let that happen again. 

“This is a good look on them,” Zera said casually. Around them, the heroes snickered. 

Zera needed to keep Poppet safe. To do that, they needed to keep the team entertained. Beyond that, they needed to get Poppet out. Somehow, they needed to either get an opening to port out with Poppet, or to convince the team that Zera deserved the villain as a pet more than they did.

They had an idea, but they didn’t know if they could pull it off.

As the villain approached, Zera spread their legs even wider, making it obvious where they intended Poppet to go. Poppet balked, face going pale. 

“No,” they said, voice barely above a whisper. “Foxfire, please, don’t do this.” 

Zera gave them a sweet smile. “Don’t do what? Don’t take my due, as the hero who fought you the most?”

Poppet’s lips trembled. This close, Zera could see their throat bob against the collar as they swallowed. 

“Don’t worry, Poppet, I don’t do audiences,” Zera said mockingly. “I’m just enjoying the view.”

They grabbed a chunk of the villain’s hair, using it to pull their head to the side. “Pretty necklace they have on,” they commented idly. They tested how tight the collar was under the guise of admiring it. They couldn’t even get a finger under it, and an irritated red band was already forming on the skin. Shit. That needed to go, but Zera couldn’t see a hinge to break or lock to pick.

 “Is that your work?” Zera aimed the question at Forgemaster.

He shook his head. “Nah, they came pre-equipped,” he joked. “My guess is the pet’s previous owner didn’t approve of their behavior, and this was the answer to that.”

Zera raised an eyebrow. “Solid band; I would have thought it would take a metalbender to put it on. Interesting. Is it a shock collar, then? You got a control for that?” 

He shook his head again, looking far less smug this time. “Unfortunately, no. I don’t do tech, just metal.”

Zera gave a non-committal hum. “A shame. I’d much rather see them choking on something else, without that in the way.” 

Leader smirked and raised her own beer to Zera in salute. “Now that’s a sight I wouldn’t mind seeing.” 

Poppet trembled under Zera’s grip as the rest of the team added their own lewd comments. Zera forced themself to smirk back. 

“You want me to…?” Forgemaster flexed his hands and gestured to the collar. 

Yes, desperately, was the true answer. But they couldn’t go for that, not yet. Not without being suspicious.

Zera shook their head. “Like I said, I don’t do audiences.” They gave a shrug, as if to say, what can you do?

“More’s the pity,” Leader said. 

They started up what might have been the most surreal conversation of Zera’s life. The heroes chatted about nothing of consequence, drinking their beers like it was just another day. Just another evening where they were hanging out, relaxing after work. All the while, Poppet stayed on their knees at Zera’s feet.

Out of nowhere, a memory popped into Zera’s head. In what should come as a surprise to no one, Zera had been a Theater Kid. This came with a certain inherent amount of Drama™. One year, Zera got a main role as the antagonist in the play. To get into the mindset, they decided to try out method acting. This led to some truly awful fights in Zera’s friend group, as Zera acted like a complete jerk for a while without even informing their friends of their method acting decision.

They vividly remembered one friend yelling at them afterwards. “You overdramatic asshole! You take things too far! You can’t say ‘oh I was only acting’ as an excuse when the other person doesn’t know you’re playing a role!”

That line stuck in Zera’s head on repeat as they guided Poppet’s head to rest against their thigh. They ran their fingers through Poppet’s hair, trying to give what comfort they could in the situation. Based on how much the villain was trembling, they doubted it was working.

They were going to have so much apologizing to do, once they got Poppet out of this mess.

If they got Poppet out of this mess.

---

After what seemed like an endless conversation around the table, the heroes all started going their separate ways for the evening. Zera’s original plan had been to head back to their own team for the night. They had to make their move.

They sighed as they looked down at Poppet. “It really is a shame,” they said. “I don’t suppose you’re willing to part with them? It doesn’t seem fair, that I’m the one with the longest history with them, but you’re the ones who get to keep them.”

Leader laughed. “Yeah, but life isn’t fair, either. They came to us, so we’re keeping them.”

“I’m not ready to give up my new plaything,” Forgemaster said with a grin.

Fuck. Well, that was one option off the table. 

Zera pouted theatrically. “Well. If I can’t have them permanently, can I at least get a little one-on-one time?” They force a smirk onto their face. “You know. Since I don’t do audiences.” 

The team cheered at that. Those who still had their drinks in hand raised them in a toast. What was this, a frat party? 

“Hell yeah, that’s the spirit!” Leader said, clapping a hand on Zera’s back. They tried not to shudder in revulsion at her touch. 

“Can I take you up on that offer from earlier?” Zera asked Forgemaster. “To pop their collar for a bit?”

He grinned. “Sure thing.” With a wave of his hand, the collar fell off. Underneath, dark bruises were visible.

Poppet sucked in a sharp breath, hands twitching like they wanted to feel the skin where the collar had been.

“Thanks,” Zera said. The word left a bitter taste in their mouth. They couldn’t wait to report this whole horrible team. They looked back to Poppet and ordered, “Come along.” 

The villain looked up at them, fear and hopelessness written across their face. Their expression shifted as they set their jaw in a look Zera knew all too well: Poppet was about to be stubborn.

Shit.

“No,” Poppet said. 

Shit.

The heroes went silent, watching expectantly to see how Zera would handle this. 

Zera sighed theatrically. “And here I thought you were going to be good for me. That’s very rude, Poppet.”

Poppet stayed quiet, glaring up at Zera. They could practically feel the tension in the room growing like weight on their shoulders. 

Zera shook their head, mock-mournful. Then, without warning, they backhanded Poppet across the face. They crouched down and grabbed the villain by the jaw, forcing their gazes to meet. 

“This can be as easy or as hard as you make it,” Zera said, tone conversational. “But it is going to happen. So. You can either behave for me like a good little pet, and I’ll take you in the next room and be gentle with you. Well. Gentler, at least. Or, you can keep being stubborn, and I’ll do this right here, and make sure to add to your bruise collection while I’m at it. I’m sure your throat would look lovely with my handprints around it.”

“You said…” Poppet began, voice trembling. “You said you don’t do audiences.”

Zera smiled sweetly. “I’m willing to make an exception. I’ve found that lessons tend to stick better when there’s others who can remind you about it.”

The heroes snickered and made appreciative comments. 

“So. Which is it going to be?” Zera asked.

Poppet’s gaze darted between Zera and the others. They swallowed hard, and a tear ran down their cheek to land on Zera’s hand. 

“I’ll behave,” Poppet said. Their quiet voice was rough and cracked with emotion.

Zera let go of their jaw to pat them on the head. “Good choice, pet.”

They stood, then pulled Poppet to their feet as well. At Leader’s direction, they headed to a room at the end of the hall. It turned out to be a guest bedroom. They pushed Poppet through the door first, then closed and locked the door after themself. 

Poppet was crying harder now, breaths hitching on suppressed sobs. They began to kneel.

Zera quickly pulled them back to their feet. When Poppet went to ask a question, Zera pressed a hand over their mouth. The muffled sound that came out was more expression of bafflement than true question. 

“This is a rescue; please do not resist,” Zera said.

Zera pulled them into a tight hug, and focused on their intended destination. Not all the way back to their team’s base; they couldn’t make it that far with a passenger. Instead, they aimed for the safehouse they had in town. 

They closed their eyes as their surroundings disappeared in a flash of blue.

---

Zera opened their eyes in their team’s safehouse, roughly halfway between their base and the base Zera had been visiting. In their arms, Poppet made a small noise of discomfort.

“I am so fucking sorry,” Zera said. They hastily removed their hand from Poppet’s mouth and let go of them, staying only close enough to catch Poppet if they started to look shaky. Teleportation could be dizzying for those not used to it.

“I am so sorry, I didn’t— that was the fastest way I could think to get a chance to get you out, I didn’t mean to—” Zera themself off. They weren’t making a lot of sense. 

They took a deep breath, held it, and let it out as slowly as they could manage. They weren’t done getting Poppet to safety yet. They had to keep it together until they were done.

Okay. They’d gotten away from the primary threat. Now they needed to assess the situation, provide aid, and call in backup. 

Backup was the easiest to do. There was a nice big red button on the wall that could send a message to their team. They pushed it, rattled off their ID code, and gave a bare-bones description of the situation before asking for a pickup ASAP. They weren’t in any condition to teleport Poppet any further, and they’d left their car at the other team’s base.

Zera led Poppet to the kitchen and sat them down on one of the bar stools. They’d have to figure out how to get the cuffs off of Poppet sooner rather than later, or at least figure out how to detach the cuffs from each other so Poppet had use of their arms again. That would wait, though. For now, they grabbed a reusable straw and a glass from the cupboard, then headed to the fridge. There, they pulled out a bottle of water and filled the glass with ice.

“Someone from my team will be here to pick us up soon,” they said. They held up the bottle and demonstrated that it was sealed before opening it. They took a sip. “No tampering. This is for you.” They put the straw in the bottle and set it on the counter in front of Poppet.

They popped one of the ice cubes in their own mouth before continuing. “They’ll be here within the hour, probably within the half hour, depending on who’s driving. We should be safe here until then. I locked this place down to anyone but my teammates.”

The ice cube wasn’t enough. Sometimes Zera could head off the worst of it using that trick, but this had been a long time coming. All the shit they’d been compartmentalizing was making itself known again now that they had a moment to breathe and drop their mask. 

“If you need me, I’ll be in the bathroom,” Zera said.

Poppet said nothing, just stared at them blankly. Zera nodded and turned on their heel, grabbing the glass of ice cubes as they left. 

The ice cube in their mouth had melted enough to swallow. They grabbed another one before sitting on the bathroom floor.

They hugged their knees close and curled in on themself, before finally succumbing to a panic attack.

---

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