Raven's Nest

“Um… It's very good, thank you. I'm just… I'm not feeling well today.” You reply as you shakily take a bite of the warm meal in front of you. He had cut up all of it into bite sized morsels for you earlier.

He sighed and set down his fork, giving you a disappointed look. He knew that you were having trouble living with him. Humans tend to have great difficulties with change. He had saved your town from a meteor and had simply decided to take you back to Stalingrad with him. He simply couldn't resist your cute little face and he felt so alone so often. He didn't think that it was a bad thing to keep you. You were a much better companion than Brainiac and besides, if some people had to die for the sake of improving the lives of the general population, it wouldn't be wrong to keep one to dote on as payment for his work to save the world. It wasn't like he was treating you poorly. You were pampered beyond belief in his eyes!

“Little one, the doctors have assured me that you are as healthy as possible and I can see that there isn't anything about your health that's changed. I know that your heart rate has increased. You know the rules. No lying to Papa, especially at the dinner table. Now, tell me what is actually wrong.” He said slightly more firmly, his Russian accent becoming more pronounced as he scolded you.

You winced. You always forgot that he could tell when you were lying and he found it exceptionally cute every time.

“It's… I'm still having a hard time with getting used to living here, Papa. It's very different.” You said more quietly.

Finally, some honesty. Superman smiled warmly at you before speeding to your side. He always felt more comfortable behaving in ways that were more instinctual to him when it was just you and him. You jumped a bit but quickly settled as he dabbed at the corners of your mouth with his napkin.

“I understand but you must also understand that your home is here, with me, radost maya. I cannot have my child running off to do who knows what. It is dangerous. Now, eat your meal. The chefs worked hard to cook it and the farmers worked hard to grow it. We don't want all of their time and effort to be wasted, now do we?” He cooed, carefully taking your fork from you.

Once he had fed you a sufficient amount and you had told him that you were all done, he decided that it was time to bond again. He had become very fond of holding you midair so that you would cling to him. He remembered how you held so desperately to his suit as he flew you home for the first time and it always made his heart warm when he thought about it. He effortlessly held you as he floated three stories up in his preferred ballroom for parties, gently rocking you as you clung to him like a baby koala. He would spend hours like this with you on his bad days. 

He enjoyed being your Papa. He loved giving you books, soft toys, and all of the love and attention that you could ever want or need. You were perfect to him, from your sweet little mind to your entirely endearing appearance to your precious little heart. He nuzzled your hair and smelled you, enjoying the way that you practically reeked of him at all times. He knew that you couldn't smell it and none of the other humans could either but it made him feel better. It made him feel like you were his. He thought over his day and how you were so sweet as you entertained yourself while he worked. Nothing in his home had any lead to obstruct his view for when he would check on you.

He hummed softly to you as he continued to hold and rock you. It was an old Russian lullaby that always made him remember the good parts of his childhood. He planted a kiss on the top of your head as he began to purr, nuzzling against you yet again. He felt very warm against you and despite your fear of him, it seemed that you couldn't help but feel a little comforted by the warmth and sound. It was obvious that Superman noticed as his purrs became as loud as his usual speaking voice.

He gently tucked his cape around you as he swayed in the air, keeping you even warmer as he brought you towards the chandelier so that you could look. He enjoyed the look on your sleepy face as you looked at the shiny cut glass and the light that danced within each piece. He knew that his purrs made you sleepy. He knew that it had something to do with how purring cats soothe humans, which suited him perfectly fine. He loved how you rested your head against his chest as you began to doze off.

You woke up that night in your bed to the uncomfortably familiar shine of Superman's eyes in the dark. You didn't know much about what kind of alien he was but you knew that he could see much better than you in the dark. You barely had time to react before he was picking you up and carrying you off to his room, which was adjoined to yours. You didn’t know why he bothered to give you a separate room with how much time you spent in his. He carefully set you down in his bed before beginning to bundle you in as many blankets as he could. You knew not to fight it by now. It would only bring you trouble.

“Oh, it's okay, sladkaya. You must have missed Papa in your sleep, huh? Your cute little subconscious knows that I'll always keep you safe and warm and cozy. It knows that you're supposed to find me when something's wrong.” He murmured as he fussed over the blankets, only stopping once you were cocooned in them with only your face peaking out.

You closed your eyes as he cuddled up to you, purring yet again. You were used to it with how often he did this. You settled in, resigned to being snuggled for the rest of the night. He watched you fall asleep fairly quickly as he held you. You woke up again to him humming as he carried the outfit that he picked out for you for the day into the room. He was already fully awake and dressed in his suit, like he usually was. He kissed the top of your head and handed you the clothing, sending you off to change in your bathroom. You met him in the sun room, just like you always did for breakfast. You had the illusion of freedom of movement. You were allowed to go anywhere in his massive house that rivaled a palace. You knew that you were expected to follow his schedule though. You didn’t want to upset him enough that he would be willing to reprogram you with one of his awful surgeries. You just listened and let him treat you like a child in his strange, alien way.

When it was time for breakfast, Superman's tastes were a bit… Eccentric. While he made sure that you had fruit, tea, and blini, he tended to have whatever sheet metal or crystal he was craving and tea to wash it down. He preferred to eat breakfast in the sun room instead of the dining room, claiming that it was better for you. He liked keeping you both there even after breakfast to read together. 

“It is good that you sit in the sun. It is healthy. It will keep you strong.” He said warmly as he read through some paperwork and reports, still snacking on a bowl of steel bolts.

You nodded and continued to just sit in your chair in the sunlight. He had given you a book to read while you sat and while it was interesting, you could really go for something that wasn't all about the benefits of communism for once. You weren't allowed to read anything with royalty in it after he lectured you about how the existence of royalty implies that some people are born superior to others. You weren't allowed to read any stories about anything that even remotely glorified capitalism either. Superman worried too much about you becoming upset by harmful ideas.

He watched over you as you began doodling a picture of the Stalingrad skyline in a notebook that he had given you and smiled. He promised himself when he brought you to your new home that he would keep you happy and comfortable. Your very presence gave him life. You were so precious to him. You were his solnishko, his little sun, even more effective than the golden sun in the sky.

Radost maya = my happiness or my joy

You toss your green and black hat onto the floor, upset.

“Awh, I’m just messing around darling,” he chuckles, picking the hat up to settle upon your head again. “And what’s this, hm? Do we have a copycat in our midsts?” 

Your little pout isn’t taken very seriously.

“You want some praise, don’t you?” he coos. “Well, you look simply dashing like this, almost as good as me. I knew you’d look better in green than in red.”

Ticket Taker

“Oh, you’re blue,” Ticket Taker remarks when you show off the new outfit you worked so hard on. 

He didn’t expect this honestly, but he was more than pleased.

“It’s a little crooked here, and the stitching is a bit messy,” he critiques, moving your limbs this way and that like a ball-jointed doll.

You were hoping to make him proud… you can’t help but feel a little hurt. 

“But it’s still a wonderful effort overall sweetheart,” Ticket Taker emphasizes. “Come along, we don’t have many plans today. I’ll help you fix it.”

You and Ticket Taker spend hours perfecting the outfit, but it’s mostly just him undoing and redoing things.

He won’t let you sew, won’t let you cut, and won’t let you do basically anything other than be his little model.

You’re quite bored, frankly, but you stick it through.

By the afternoon, he has you in a perfectly fitted suit, identical to his own. 

“One second darling,” he says, walking off towards his quarters. He returns with a top hat, just like his.

“It’s a good thing I have an extra, I’m not very skilled in making top hats yet,” he remarks, settling it on top of your head. 

It’s a little big, but it works, and you look just like him, only… you look like you, but in his clothes.

“Now it’s perfect,” he lets the smallest smile slip. “What a dapper fellow you are.”

He usually keeps you hidden in a tent when the circus opens, but tonight, he proudly takes you to the front. You’ll be helping him check tickets. 

After all, you were Ticket Taker Jr. now.

Doctor

“You’re gonna need a shot!” you shout at Harlequin, wrapped in your handmade doctor’s robes, just like the Doctor’s.

You had indeed somehow got your hands on some of the doctor’s own tools, a huge needle wielded in your hands like a weapon.

“Kiddo when I said I wanted to play, this is not what I meant!” Harlequin huffs, attempting to disarm you.

The Doctor, looking for his missing tools, spots the two of you. 

“There they are,” he clicks his tongue softly, snatching the needle from your hands. “And who might you be?” he plays along, “My new assistant, perhaps?”

“Yes!” you agree readily. “Patient Quin is being bad!”

“Oh no,” Doctor sighs, “How troublesome. You seem so experienced in this field of work, sweetness. Why don’t you take charge?”

He hands you back the needle and somehow manages to restrain Harlequin, holding his hands behind his back. 

“You’re kidding me,” Harlequin hisses to Doctor. 

“Come on, little doctor,” the Doctor merely hums. “Inject it right above his heart.”

Whenever you have your doctor’s outfit on, he’s happy to treat you like a doctor instead of a patient. He thinks it’s endearing how you want to be like him, and he’d love if you were his assistant forever.

Jester

“You’re doing it wrong, child,” Jester sighs as he peers over your shoulder, watching you messily stitch the purple outfit together. 

“If you want to look like me so badly, why won’t you just have Bil make it for you?” 

“Because I have to make it myself!” you grumble determinedly, already a bit upset he had caught you before it was finished. 

He supervises you while you work away. 

He chides and scolds you when you do anything a bit risky.

When you’re done, you’re eager to try it on. 

It’s a little too big…

You’re about ready to give up, sniffling softly.

“You look good, child,” Jester remarks. “You’ll grow into it.”

“You think so?” you mumble quietly.

“Oh, I know so,” he smirks, “Why don’t you keep it on for dinner tonight? We can show all the others how hard you worked.”

“Koi, what’s wrong?”

The sound of Sun’s voice broke through what had turned into a near panic attack. He and Moon had come into the tent, were standing in front of you and you hadn’t noticed.

Moon reached out and took the bouquet from you, setting it aside before taking your hands in his, peering at your face worriedly as Sun rubbed your back comfortingly.

“What happened?” Moon asked.

How long had you been standing there in your frozen panic?

Long enough to make Sun and Moon come to check on you. They’d left the alter to see why their bride had not come to join them.

“I-I-“ you tried to speak, but the words stuck in your throat.

Swallowing, you tried again.

“T-there just… there’s so many people.” You whispered.

Sun had wanted a big wedding and when the three of you were planning you had also been excited for the friends and family and guests that would be attending, but now… now that it was time and you had to walk down the aisle in front of everyone…

“Oh, Koi.” Sun murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“How can we help?” Moon asked softly, bringing your knuckles to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your skin.

“Walk with me?” You whispered, voice a fragile squeak.

“Of course!” Sun pulled you into a hug, squeezing you tight and rocking you slightly.

“We’d be honored!”

“You don’t need to do this alone.” Moon said with a smile

“That’s kinda the whole point of today!” Sun laughed.

Releasing you from his hold, Sun stepped back so he could offer you an arm, trying to look as gallant as possible.

“Anything for our lovely wife.” Sun winked and you laughed, taking his arm and feeling better.

Moon on your other side offered his arm as well and you reached out, letting them support you.

“Ready for our second wedding?” Moon murmured into your ear making shivers run down your spine.

“Yes.” You grinned.

Bouquet forgotten, you walked from the tent arm in arm with your husbands.

The sun was setting over the ocean, turning everything pinks and purples, light sparkling over the waves. A wooden arch covered in vibrant flowers had been constructed in the sand, framing the ocean and a trail of flower petals lead to it through the chairs that had been set up for the guests. Posts had been set up along the edges of everything and lights and lanterns were strung up over the path to the alter.

Your eyes lit up. You’d been getting dressed, brides maids flitting around you doing your hair and makeup while the ceremony was being set up. Before this moment, you hadn’t gotten a chance to see everything. It was gorgeous.

Moon leaned down to ask, “do you like it?”

And you could only mutely nod, your eyes glittering in the lights.

All the anxiety was gone. Well, mostly gone. You were getting married to your husbands and it felt like you were walking on clouds.

The guests were beaming as the three of you walked to the alter, the ocean waves crashing close at hand with gentle steel drum music playing in the background.

There was no officiant for this wedding. You didn’t need one.

Each of you took turns, saying the vows you’d written yourselves and then exchanged rings, promising to care for one another and share this life with each other.

Moon wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close, kissing you sweetly. It was a wonderful, yet calming sensation. Like resting on the ocean floor, watching the fish swim past, cool and tranquil.

And then it was Sun’s turn. He snagged you around the waist and dipped you. When his lips met yours it was like the sun coming out from behind the clouds, warm and soft.

You couldn't understand him. It was just noise.

In an earnest attempt to communicate back, you made a noise between a gurgle and a babble.

The man grinned widely, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Oh, you're just so cute!" he squealed, lifting you up from the pod and into his arms.

He was so warm compared to the coldness of the room. Your small hands reached up, grabbing onto his lab coat. He chuckled, his arms wrapping tightly around your body.

"Father's little miracle," he cooed, his cheek nuzzling against yours. He clearly didn't care about how you were soaking him in the liquid.

You took the moment to truly take in his appearance. His face was angular, with a prominent jaw and sharp cheekbones. There were scars across his features, his right eye milky white and blind with a large patch of reddened and scarred skin around it. You curiously reached up, touching his face.

He froze for a moment, his eyes widening. Then he laughed, his chest rumbling. "Well, aren't you a curious little thing? Yes, Father is quite handsome, isn't he?" He nuzzled his face into your hand, sighing contently.

For a moment, the two of you just stayed there, basking in each other's presence.

"Alright, now," he said, pulling away. "Let's get you all cleaned up. I'm sure you're freezing."

He tried to help you up after bundling you in his lab coat, but your legs wobbled at the unfamiliarity. You had to grip onto his arm for support.

"Like a baby deer," he adoringly cooed. "Your father's joints aren't the best, so... ah, I had a wheelchair around here somewhere..." He eased you back to the floor and made a vague hand gesture, then went to the far corner of the room.

You looked around curiously, seeing the many machines that surrounded you. Most of them were turned off, but a few had blinking lights and buttons. You were tempted to touch them, but you were quickly pulled away as the man returned with the wheelchair.

He lifted you up, gently placing you onto the seat. "There we go, now you're all set."

You looked up at him, a soft squeak escaping your lips.

He grinned, leaning down to press a kiss on your forehead. "I love you too, dear."

With a nod, he began to push you out of the room and down a long hallway. The walls were lined with various pictures and diagrams, most of which you couldn't comprehend. He had to push the wheelchair with one hand since you were holding onto his other.

He led you to another room, this one much warmer than the previous one. There was a large bathtub in the center, filled with warm water and bubbles. Next to it was a table with various bottles and containers.

"Time for a bath," he said, helping you out of the chair and half-carrying you over to the tub.

He gently placed you in the water, the warmth immediately soothing your skin. You let out a soft sigh, relaxing into the tub. He chuckled, grabbing a washcloth and some soap. You've never felt so warm.

He hummed a soft tune as he washed you, his hands gently scrubbing away the remnants of the pod's liquid. When he was done, he washed your hair, massaging your scalp with the shampoo. His fingers felt heavenly, and you couldn't help but close your eyes and enjoy the sensation.

Once he was done, he grabbed a towel and dried you off, wrapping you in it.

He led you over to a small bed in the corner, helping you onto it. He sat down next to you, brushing your damp hair out of your face.

"Isn't that better?" he asked, smiling down at you. "I bet you feel much cleaner now."

You stared at him blankly.

He laughed and shook his head. "I know, you can't understand a word I'm saying. You'll learn. In the meantime, I just hope you enjoy hearing my voice." He grabbed several pieces of fabric, all pastel-colored. "Dr. Peña recommended scrubs, but between you and me, he's dreadfully boring. Now, green or blue?"

Once again, you stared at him.

"Hmm... how should I go about this..." He lifted the fabrics in his right hand in emphasis. "Green," he said more slowly, before lowering it and lifting the fabrics in his left hand, "or blue?"

You blinked for a moment. "'een."

His face lit up like a Christmas tree—not that you'd know what that was either. "Oh, you're such a fast learner! Father is so proud of you!"

The door behind him suddenly hissed, and Wesley's expression changed instantly. You followed his gaze, seeing a man standing in the doorway.

"Peña," Wesley greeted.

The man, Dr. Peña, glared at him. "Wesley," he replied curtly, stepping inside and approaching the bed. "We detected vocalization from Subject—"

"Don't call them that."

"—and I wanted to make sure that they were—"

"They're fine, Peña." Wesley shifted to block his view of you.

Even though Peña seemed annoyed at his colleague's brusque attitude, he didn't call him out on it. Instead, he changed his wording into a simple observation. "They spoke."

Wesley glanced at you before responding. "Yes, and they're a fast learner. They're already choosing clothes."

Peña sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Wesley, we need to document every single step of their development. The vocalization is a breakthrough, and we have to—"

"Last time I checked, I was the one overseeing the development of [Name]."

"You already named it?"

"Of course I have. I think it suits them, don't you?"

"Wesley, this project has been waiting for viable results for eight years."

"And I have been waiting for my child longer than that."

Silence followed. Peña seemed to struggle with finding the right words. Then he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, slowly exhaling through his nose. When he opened his eyes, they were filled with resignation. "I'm not going to argue with you about this. I will have the record updated."

"Thank you, Peña. I knew I could count on you."

He rolled his eyes, but a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Just...be careful, okay? I don't want anything happening to them."

"Never in a million years."

Peña nodded, then turned to leave. Just before he stepped out, he paused and looked back at you. "Welcome to the world, [Name]."

Once he was gone, Wesley turned back to you and smiled. "Now, where were we? Ah yes, clothing." He held up the green fabric. "Let's get you dressed and ready for bed. I have a lot to teach you tomorrow."

...

The first few days were a blur for you.

Wesley kept you busy with various activities, all of them designed to teach you basic skills. He taught you how to talk, read, write, and even how to walk properly. He was a patient teacher, never getting frustrated when you struggled with something.

In fact, he seemed to enjoy every moment of it.

He would often talk to you while you were learning, his voice soothing and calm. He would tell you stories about his past, though he never went into too much detail. He would also talk about the world outside the facility, describing the people, places, and things that existed beyond the walls. However, he always stressed that you were to never go outside.

You couldn't quite comprehend everything he was saying, but you enjoyed listening to his voice.

One day, while he was teaching you how to read, he noticed you staring at the window. The glass was tinted, and you could only see a blur of colors. You reached out, your fingers pressing against the cool surface.

"What's wrong, dear?" he asked, setting down the book.

You turned to look at him. "Wanna go outside."

His expression softened. "I know, but it's not safe out there. You're better off here with me."

"Why?" you asked, tilting your head. "What's out there?"

He hesitated for a moment, then sighed. "There are...bad people out there, [Name]. People who would want to hurt you."

Your eyes widened. "Why?"

"They just...do." He reached out and cupped your cheek, his thumb stroking your skin. "But don't worry, I'll always protect you. You're safe here."

You frowned, not fully understanding his words. But you trusted him, so you nodded and leaned into his touch.

"Good," he murmured, leaning forward to press a kiss on your forehead. "Now, let's continue with our lesson."

He picked up the book again, but you could still see the worry in his eyes.

...

The other staff were nice, even if Wesley was very particular about who came near you.

Dr. Peña was cold and sometimes a bit annoyed, but you could tell he had a soft spot for you, as did most of the doctors and nurses.

The only other doctors allowed near you were Dr. Cordova and Dr. Horn. Cordova and Horn were both warmer than Peña, and Wesley often joked around with them. They were the ones who helped you with learning how to use technology and how to understand the various machines in the facility.

There were also some guards, though they mostly stayed in the shadows. They were there to protect you, Wesley explained, though he never elaborated on what you needed protection from.

You had a sense that they were more there to keep you from escaping.

Oh, right, and you had powers. You didn't really understand what the big deal was, but you supposed they had become so normal to you that you didn't think much of them. You had super strength and retractible fangs and claws. Dr. Horn once claimed you looked like a "little chupacabra", whatever that meant. You remembered Wesley getting offended on your behalf.

Life was pretty leisurely, but that meant it was also, well... boring.

Every day was the exact same. The same routine, the same people, the same walls. You were tired of it. You wanted to see more, to experience more. You wanted to go outside.

"Tomorrow I turn one," you informed Wesley, even though he was the one who had reminded you just this morning.

He was busy typing away at his computer. He hummed in response.

"You said I can have a present of my choosing," you added.

He paused, then turned to look at you. "Yes, I did. What do you want, dear?"

You hesitated. You knew what you wanted, but you also knew Wesley would say no. Still, you decided to take a chance. "I wanna go outside."

His eyes narrowed, and his jaw clenched. "No."

You frowned. "But you promised!"

"I said I'd give you anything within reason," he argued, his voice rising. "Going outside is not within reason."

"Why not?" you asked, crossing your arms. "Dr. Cordova said she thinks the sunset is beautiful. I've never seen it before."

"And you never will."

You flinched at his tone, your eyes widening. He never raised his voice at you before.

His expression immediately softened, and he got up from his chair. He walked over to you, kneeling down despite you not being much different in height.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, his hands resting on your shoulders. "I didn't mean to scare you. But you have to understand, the outside world is dangerous. I can't risk losing you." You went silent, and his frown deepened. "[Name]..." He pursed his lips in thought. "How about a compromise? You may watch the sunset through the window."

You shrugged. "It isn't the same."

"I know it isn't," he replied, "but it's the best I can offer you."

You bit your lip, considering his words. After a moment, you nodded. "Okay, I guess."

He smiled. "Good. Then it's a deal."

...

The sunset was just as Cordova described, but it didn't do much to satisfy you. Outside looked so beautiful, even if behind a layer of bulletproof glass that was still just slightly tinted. You couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to feel the grass beneath your feet, to smell the fresh air, to see the world with your own eyes.

Wesley watched your reaction closely. He didn't miss the longing in your expression.

He sighed, placing a hand on your back. "Come on, [Name]. It's getting late. Time for bed."

You didn't move. "But—"

"No buts. You need your rest."

You reluctantly followed him to your room. He helped you change into your pajamas, tucked you in, and kissed you goodnight. You stared at the ceiling, your mind racing.

You wanted to go outside.

You needed to go outside.

You just had to figure out how.

...

"Dr. Horn. I have a request," you said, pulling at his sleeve.

He glanced at you. "Mhm, kiddo?"

"Could you let me take a walk outside? Just for a few minutes?"

He chuckled. "Yeah, I don't think Dr. Page would appreciate that."

Sometimes you had to remember Wesley was not simply "Wesley" or "Father" to the others, but Dr. Page. "We wouldn't need to tell him."

He raised an eyebrow. "You're asking me to lie to my boss? Sorry, I like having my head attached to my body."

"You won't get caught," you insisted.

"And how do you know that?"

You didn't have an answer for that, so you stayed silent.

He sighed, patting your head. "Look, kid. I get it. You're curious. But you gotta understand, the world out there isn't as great as you think it is. It's better for you to stay here where it's safe. People outside are shitty, anyway. You got your own little family in here, don't you? We're way nicer than anyone else could be. Well, except for maybe Peña, but he's getting there."

You didn't laugh at the awkward joke. "I'm only asking to walk around a little."

His face grew serious. "No. I'm sorry. I can't risk it."

So much for that.

...

Another week passed. Wesley was typing away while Dr. Cordova was scanning you. You were getting antsy.

"So, what do you wanna be when you grow up?" Cordova asked you.

"I am grown up," you responded.

She laughed. "No, you aren't. You're still a baby."

You huffed. "I'm just as big as you and the others. I know what actual babies are like." You sighed. "Normal ones, at least."

"Okay, okay," she conceded. "You have the body of an adult, sure, but you're still a child in here." She pointed to her head. "You haven't experienced enough of life to be considered an adult."

You rolled your eyes. "I'm never going to experience life, though. I'm stuck in here forever."

Wesley stopped typing. "Hey. We talked about this."

"I'm sorry," you muttered, "but it's true."

His jaw clenched, and he looked like he was about to argue, but he stopped himself. He took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. "I know you're frustrated, [Name]. But you have to trust me. I know what's best for you."

You were silent, not wanting to push him any further.

Cordova cleared her throat. "Uh, scans are done."

"Good," he said, standing up. "You're dismissed."

She gave you a sympathetic smile before leaving the room. Wesley walked over to you, sitting down next to you.

"I'm sorry," you said softly.

"Don't be." He placed a hand on your knee. "I understand why you feel this way. But I need you to understand that I'm doing this for your own good."

You nodded, though you didn't fully believe him. You didn't want to argue anymore, so you just leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder.

He wrapped an arm around you, holding you close. The two of you stayed like that for a while, neither of you speaking. Eventually, he broke the silence.

"Tell you what," he said, "why don't we do something fun tomorrow? Just the two of us. Maybe watch a movie. You like those, don't you? We can even get some popcorn, make a blanket fort...?"

Movies were nice. They were the closest thing to outside you could get. "Okay."

"Good." He kissed the top of your head. "I love you, [Name]."

"I love you too," you replied. "Even if you're annoying."

He chuckled, squeezing you gently. "I'll take it." He went back to the computer. "Why don't you go get ready for bed? I'll be there to tuck you in soon, m'kay, dear?"

You nodded, getting up and heading to your room.

...

The craziest part about everything, was that you didn't even mean to get into this mess; you just wanted a glass of water.

You had pressed on the button for assistance from one of the nurses, since the doors to your room locked around nighttime.

"Here ya go, kiddo," she said, handing you the glass. "Anything else I can do for you?"

"...could you stay until I fall back asleep?" Normally, you'd only request such a thing from Wesley, but he was busy. You didn't feel like sleeping alone right now.

She gave you a sympathetic look. "Sure thing." She sat on the edge of the bed after shedding her coat and lanyard with it, folding the coat and placing the lanyard on top of it. She placed it behind her on the bed before giving you her full attention.

You didn't even concentrate to her words, you knew they were all just nonsensical rambles, but it did make your eyes heavy. You were almost fully asleep when she left the room with a fond chuckle.

Just as you shifted positions, your socked feet felt something at the edge of the bed. You sleepily reached over, picking up what felt like a piece of plastic. Then you opened your eyes and realized what it was.

It was her lanyard.

You knew the right thing to do. You should've gotten up and returned it to her. But you didn't. You couldn't. This was your chance. If you could just get out for a bit, you could see the sunset without any windows blocking it. And then you would come back. You would be back before anyone noticed. You were sure of it.

You grabbed the lanyard and got out of bed, tiptoeing to the door. You swiped the card through the reader, and the door clicked open. You peeked outside, seeing no one in the hallway. You quickly slipped out, closing the door behind you.

You had a vague idea of where the exit was, but you were still nervous. You walked as quietly as possible, keeping an eye out for anyone who might be wandering around. Luckily, the facility was mostly empty at this hour.

Eventually, you found the exit. It was a large metal door with a keypad next to it. You hesitated for a moment, then swiped the card. The door beeped, then slowly opened.

You took a deep breath, stepping outside.

The air was fresh and crisp. It smelled different than the filtered air inside the facility. You looked around, seeing nothing but trees and bushes surrounding the building. The sun was just beginning to set, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink.

You walked further away from the building, your eyes wide in wonder. The grass was soft beneath your feet, the wind blowing gently through your hair. It was everything you imagined and more.

You continued to walk, not realizing how far you were getting from the facility. You were so lost in the moment that you didn't notice the gate until you nearly bumped into it, too busy gazing up at the sky.

The top was looped with barbed wire, the front of it closed off with a metal sign that read:

 WARNING: NO TRESPASSING. PROPERTY OF PAGETECH INDUSTRIES. VIOLATORS WILL BE PROSECUTED.

You frowned, looking around the gate. It was too high for you to climb, and you didn't see any other way out. Not that you were really planning on a way out.

That was, until you heard the yell of a man.

"Hey! Hands up where I can see 'em!"

You looked back and saw someone dressed in a security uniform running toward you, a heavy black gun pointed in your direction.

You didn't plan on running, you honestly didn't. For a heart-stopping moment, you thought about being taken back in and Wesley's reaction to knowing his beloved child had pulled such a stunt. It sounded dreadful, but you considered it your only option.

That was until the man shot something at you, but missed.

It didn't occur to you that there were anything other than bullets in that gun. So, in a panicked last-moment decision, you ran.

The man yelled for you to stop, chasing after you. You didn't know where you were going, just that you needed to get away. You dodged trees and jumped over bushes, your heart racing. You could hear him gaining on you, but you refused to give up.

You saw the gate coming into view. You didn't think twice, jumping up and grabbing onto the barbed wire. You were hoping you could just climb over, but the wire was too sharp and cut into your hands. Still, you held on, pulling yourself up.

"Stop right there!" the man shouted, grabbing your leg.

You cried out, kicking him away. You underestimated your strength, because next thing you knew, he was absolutely pummeled into the ground by the force of your kick. You covered your mouth to muffle a scream of horror, then focused back on your escape.

You pulled yourself over the gate, wincing as the wire dug into your skin. You dropped to the other side, landing hard on your feet. Your legs were sore, but you ignored the pain, running as fast as you could.

You didn't stop until you couldn't hear him anymore. You looked back, seeing no sign of him. You were safe.

For now, at least.

...

"...sir?" Peña's voice was laced with uncharacteristic anxiety.

It had been three hours since you left. Wesley's eyes were bloodshot, his nails bitten down to the quick. He refused to sit still, pacing around the facility and barking orders at anyone who got in his way. His entire office was a mess, papers scattered all over the floor, his computer screen cracked from throwing it at the wall in a rage.

There was no reply from the man.

"Wesley?" Peña gently called again.

"What?" he spat, not even looking at him.

"We... we found the guard."

That made him freeze. He slowly turned around, his eyes wild. "And?"

Peña hesitated, swallowing hard. "He's...dead."

The room fell silent.

Wesley stared at him, his breathing heavy. Then he let out a guttural scream, grabbing the nearest object and throwing it across the room. It shattered against the wall, pieces flying everywhere.

Peña flinched but didn't move. "We have reason to believe Subject—uh, [Name]—is the one who killed him."

"I could've guessed that on my own," Wesley sneered.

"The... the autopsy said he was kicked so hard that it caved his ribcage in."

Wesley's face paled. "Oh, God..."

"They were in a panic," Peña tried to reassure him. "They didn't mean to."

Wesley gave an offended glare. "I know that! Don't you think I know that?!" He began to pace again, muttering to himself. "They must be so scared. I have to find them. I have to bring them home."

"We're doing everything we can," Peña said. "But they could be anywhere by now."

Wesley stopped, turning to face him. "No. They wouldn't go far. They wouldn't leave me." His voice cracked. "They love me."

"I know, but—"

"Find them!" Wesley yelled, his eyes flashing dangerously. "Find them, or so help me God, I will burn this whole place to the ground!"

Peña nodded, swallowing thickly. He quickly left the room, leaving Wesley alone with his thoughts.

Wesley fell to his knees, tears streaming down his face. He buried his face in his hands, his body shaking with sobs.

"Come back to me," he whispered. "Please, come back."

...

You didn't know where to go or what to do.

You were lost, scared, and alone. You had never felt so vulnerable in your life. The world was so much bigger than you thought, and you were just a small speck in it.

You found yourself in a city, the bright lights and loud noises overwhelming your senses. People walked past you, not even giving you a second glance. You felt invisible.

You wandered around, your hands stuffed in your pockets. Your clothes were dirty and torn, your face smudged with dirt and tears. You looked like a mess, but no one seemed to care.

You eventually found a park, deciding to rest on a bench. You watched as people walked their dogs, children played on the swings, and couples sat together on blankets. It was a major contrast to the sterile environment you were used to.

You couldn't help but feel a bit envious. They were all so... normal.

You sat there for hours, just observing. You were too scared to move, too scared to interact with anyone. You just wanted to go home. You wanted to be back in your room, with Wesley tucking you in and telling you everything was going to be okay.

Oh, Wesley.

Was he mad? Was he worried? You wouldn't blame him if he was both. You just hoped he wouldn't hate you for what you did.

You felt tears well up in your eyes, and you quickly wiped them away. You didn't want to cry, not in public. You didn't want to draw attention to yourself.

But it was too late.

"Are you okay, hon?"

You looked up, seeing an older woman standing in front of you. She had kind eyes and a warm smile. You nodded, not trusting your voice.

She sat down next to you, placing a hand on your shoulder. "You don't look so good. Are you lost?"

You hesitated, then nodded again.

She frowned. "Do you need help? I can call someone for you."

"No!" you said quickly, shaking your head. "No, I'm fine."

She gave you a concerned look. "Are you sure? You can tell me the truth."

You bit your lip, looking away. You didn't know what to do. You wanted to go home, but you were scared of what would happen if you did.

The woman seemed to sense your inner conflict. "Why don't you come with me? My house is just around the corner. You can clean up, have something to eat, and then we can figure out what to do next. How does that sound?"

You looked at her, seeing nothing but kindness in her eyes. You slowly nodded. "Okay."

She smiled, standing up and offering her hand. "Come on, then. Let's get you out of here."

...

You went with the woman, whose name was Eleanor. She was a widow, her husband having passed away a few years ago. She lived alone in a small house, but it was cozy and welcoming. She gave you a change of clothes, a warm meal, and a bed to sleep in. She treated you like family, and for a moment, things felt okay.

She didn't pry into your past, but she did ask you questions about yourself. You answered as best as you could, not revealing too much. She seemed satisfied with your vague responses, not pushing you any further.

You stayed with her for a few days, helping her around the house and keeping her company. She was a sweet lady, and you enjoyed her presence.

Even though you missed Wesley and the others, you had to admit it was nice being out in the real world. You were learning new things, experiencing new emotions. It was scary, but also exhilarating.

You had almost forgotten about the incident at the facility, pushing it to the back of your mind.

But it all came crashing back when you saw the news.

It was a quiet evening, and you and Eleanor were sitting in the living room, watching TV. Suddenly, a breaking news alert appeared on the screen.

"Authorities are still searching for the escaped patient from the CRYO Industries facility," the reporter said, showing a picture of the gate and a grainy image of you climbing over it. "The patient is described as dangerous and unstable. If you have any information, please contact the police immediately."

Your blood ran cold. You looked at Eleanor, seeing her eyes wide with shock.

"Is... is that you?" she whispered, her hand covering her mouth.

You didn't know what to say. You just sat there, frozen in fear.

She turned to you, her expression a mix of fear and concern. "Is it true? Are you... are you dangerous?"

You shook your head. "No, I swear. I'm not."

"Then why are they saying that?"

"I... I didn't mean to hurt anyone," you explained, your voice trembling. "I was just scared. I didn't know what else to do."

She stared at you for a moment, then sighed. "Oh, honey..."

"I'm sorry," you said, tears forming in your eyes. "I should've told you the truth. I just... I didn't want you to be afraid of me."

She reached out, placing a hand on your cheek. "I'm not afraid of you. I just... I don't know what to do."

You leaned into her touch, closing your eyes. "I don't, either."

...

Wesley was losing his mind.

Days had passed since you disappeared, and there was still no sign of you. He was barely sleeping, barely eating. He was a wreck, his sanity hanging by a thread.

Peña and the others tried to calm him down, but it was no use. He was too far gone.

He spent most of his time in his office, staring at the security footage from the night you escaped. He watched it over and over again, trying to find any clues that could lead him to you. But there was nothing.

He leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. His eyes were bloodshot, his face pale and gaunt. He looked like a ghost of his former self.

Suddenly, his phone rang. He picked it up, his voice hoarse. "Hello?"

"Dr. Page, it's Horn. We... we might have something."

He sat up straight. "What is it? Did you find them?"

"Well, not exactly. But we found CCTV footage of them in a nearby city."

Wesley's heart skipped a beat. "Show me."

Horn sent him the file, and he quickly opened it. He watched as you walked through the streets, looking lost and scared. His chest tightened at the sight.

"Where is this?" he asked, his voice strained.

"Bedford Park," Horn replied. "We're sending a team over there to search for them."

Wesley nodded, his eyes glued to the screen. He watched as you interacted with people, looking so out of place. He wanted nothing more than to hold you in his arms and tell you everything was going to be okay... and then scold you for how you broke his heart after nearly making it stop completely.

He paused the video, zooming in on your face. You looked so tired, so defeated. It broke his heart even more, if that were even possible.

"I'll find you," he whispered. "I promise."

...

You were in the kitchen, helping Eleanor make dinner, when there was a knock on the door. She went to answer it, leaving you alone.

You were stirring the pot on the stove, lost in thought. You were still scared, but you were trying to stay positive. You hoped that soon, everything would be resolved, and you could go back to your normal life. Whatever that was.

Suddenly, you heard a commotion from the living room. You turned off the stove, wiping your hands on a towel before walking towards the noise.

You froze when you saw a group of armed men standing in the doorway, their guns pointed at Eleanor. She had her hands up, her face pale.

"What's going on?" you asked, your voice trembling.

One of the men turned to you. He didn't dignify you with a response. Instead, he nodded to his men, who quickly grabbed you.

"Wait, no!" Eleanor cried. "Leave them alone!"

They ignored her, dragging you out of the house. You, in a state of further panic, shoved them away. Two of them were flung back from the sheer force of your push.

"Shit, they're not lying about them being dangerous," one of them spat. "Grab them, now!"

You never realized how enhanced your reflexes were until that moment, dodging and weaving through their desperate grasps. But they kept coming at you, and there were more and more of them surrounding you. You couldn't hold them off forever, and the exhaustion was already catching up to you.

After twisting one of the men's arms in your grasp (with a panicked, "sorry!"), you bolted as fast as you could. Your eyes were stinging with tears as you ran, your heart pounding in your chest. You didn't know where you were going, just that you needed to get away.

...

Wesley stepped out of the black SUV, his eyes scanning the area. The neighborhood was quiet, the only sound being the chirping of crickets. He adjusted his tie with a stoic expression.

He had told the guards to wait for him, but of course no one seemed to be able to follow orders. Wesley would make sure to find who was responsible for such carelessness later.

Cordova walked up next to him, holding a tablet. "We got a tip that they were seen in this area," she said, showing him a map. "We're not sure if they're still here, but it's worth a shot."

He nodded, not taking his eyes off the houses. "I want this entire block searched. I don't care if you have to break down every door. Find them."

She nodded, relaying the orders to the team. They split up, going in different directions.

Wesley started walking, his hands in his pockets. He didn't know what he was expecting to find, but he had a feeling in his gut that you were close. He could sense it.

"[Name]?" he called out, his voice echoing through the empty streets. "Where are you, dear? Please, just come out. I'm not mad."

That was a lie. He was many things, and mad was definitely one of them. But he didn't want to scare you. He just wanted you to come home.

He heard heavy breathing coming from behind a dumpster and froze. He slowly approached, his heart racing.

"[Name]?" he called out again.

You poked your head out, your eyes wide with fear. You were a mess, your clothes torn and dirty, your face smudged with dirt and tears.

Wesley's breath hitched at the sight of you. He quickly closed the distance between you, pulling you into his arms. "Oh, thank God," he whispered, holding you tightly. "I was so worried."

You hesitated for a moment, then wrapped your arms around him, burying your face in his chest. "I'm sorry," you said hoarsely. "I'm so sorry."

He stroked your hair, shushing you. "It's okay, dear. I'm just glad you're safe."

The two of you stayed like that for a while, just holding each other. Eventually, Cordova and the others found you, but Wesley quickly waved them away. He didn't want anyone else near you right now.

He pulled away slightly, cupping your face in his hands. "Are you hurt? Did they do anything to you?"

You shook your head. "No, I'm okay."

He examined you closely, his eyes scanning for any injuries. He sighed in relief when he didn't find any. "Good."

You looked down. "Did I kill him?"

He furrowed his brows. "What?"

"The guard," you clarified. "Did I...?"

He hesitated. He didn't want to lie to you, but he also didn't want to upset you further. "It was an accident, [Name]. You didn't mean to."

Your voice shook with horror. "Is that why the news called me dangerous?"

He nodded. "They don't understand. They don't know you like I do."

"I don't know how to control my strength," you said, tears filling your eyes. "I'm a monster."

"That's why the world isn't meant for you, sweetheart. That's what I've been trying to tell you. No one will accept and love you like me," he crooned. "I was hoping to spare both of us the heartbreak of you realizing it this way..." He closed his eyes with a sorrowful sigh.

"I'm so sorry, Father." You threw your arms around him again. "I just wanted to see the outside."

He rested his chin on top of your head, rocking you back and forth. "Was it worth it?"

Despite the question being condescendingly knowing, it was also genuine.

You thought about it for a moment, then shook your head. "No."

He smiled slightly. "Good. Because I don't ever want to lose you again."

...

The drive back to the facility was quiet. You sat in the backseat, Wesley's arm draped around your shoulders. You leaned into him, feeling exhausted both physically and emotionally. You were relieved to be going home, but you also felt a sense of dread. You knew you were in for a lecture, and you weren't looking forward to it.

Once you arrived, Wesley led you to his office. He sat you down on the couch, then poured you a glass of water. You took it gratefully, taking small sips.

He sat down next to you, his expression serious. "We need to talk about what happened."

You nodded, setting the glass down on the table. "I know."

He took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. "I don't even know where to begin. You disobeyed me, put yourself in danger, and... and killed someone."

You flinched at his words, looking down at your lap. "Am I going to prison?"

In your short lifetime, you knew only of the concept—a place where bad people went. Now you were wondering if you would be next.

Wesley shook his head, looking briefly horrified at the idea, or that you'd even consider he'd let that happen to you. "No. I've taken care of it. No one will ever know what happened."

You looked up at him, your eyes wide. "But... how?"

He gave you a brief smile. "I have my ways. But that's not important right now. What's important is that you disobeyed me. Do you understand how dangerous that was? I could've lost you, [Name]. Do you have any idea how that made me feel?"

You looked down at your lap. "You could just make another me."

He took a sharp breath. "Don't say that. Don't ever say that. You are irreplaceable to me. There will never be another you."

You felt a pang in your chest. "I don't understand why I mean so much to you. If I'm not just an experiment, what am I?"

"You're my child," he said, his voice filled with conviction. "You're my everything. I created you because I wanted a family, someone to love and cherish. And I do. I love you more than anything in this world."

You went silent.

He studied your face for a moment, then took a shaky breath. "Did I ever tell you why I look like this?" He didn't even bother trying to gesture to himself—he didn't need to.

Despite that, you sometimes forgot Wesley didn't look normal, at least not by typical human standards. He was the first ever face you saw in your life. To you, his scarring was just part of his appearance. You'd never considered that he may have a complex about it.

You shook your head.

He nodded, looking away. "I... I was in an accident. A lab explosion. It... it changed me. I lost my job, my marriage, half of my vision, and some would argue half of my mind. All I had ever wanted was a family of my own, but after the accident, I realized that wasn't going to happen. That's when I decided to take matters into my own hands. I created you."

You looked at him in surprise. You had never heard this story before. "Why didn't you just adopt?"

He gave a wry chuckle. "There's many reasons. One, I have the ability to create life. That isn't an opportunity I could simply pass up. Two, we can spend much more time together like this, under the excuse of me working. And three... I wouldn't want my child to ever experience what normal children go through. It's a cruel world out there, [Name], and I don't want anyone to ever hurt you. You deserve to be happy and loved, and I can give you that. You don't ever have to grow up, like most children are expected to do. You'll never have to leave me."

"I'll never have the option to leave you, you mean," you corrected before thinking twice.

He raised his brow. "Oh? You want to leave me?"

"No," you replied without missing a beat. "But... it's scary knowing that I can't. That's not fair, is it?"

"It's fair in the sense that I brought you into this world. You wouldn't even exist if not for me. Don't you think I should have a say in what you do?"

"But then wouldn't every parent get that excuse?"

"Fine, then how about the fact that you're not human?" he retorted. "That you're stronger, faster, and more enhanced than any normal person? You think the world would accept you with open arms if they knew?"

"You don't want them to. You're just happy to use that as an excuse to do all of this. That's why you didn't adopt."

He narrowed his eyes. "You're awfully defiant all of a sudden. I thought you were sorry for what you did."

"I am sorry for worrying you and hurting someone," you said, "but I'm not sorry for wanting to see the outside world."

He stood up, his jaw clenched. "You're not going to win this argument, [Name]. I'm your father, and I know what's best for you. You're staying here, and that's final."

You stood up as well. "Then I'll just find another way to escape."

He laughed, but it was bitter. "Then I suppose I'll just restrain you at all times of the day. You'll be confined to your room completely unless I decide otherwise. Is that what you want?"

You glared at him. "You wouldn't."

"Try me."

The two of you stared at each other, the tension in the room thick. You were the first to look away, your shoulders slumping in defeat. "I don't want that."

He sighed, his expression softening. "Neither do I. I hate having to be the bad guy, but you leave me no choice. I'm only doing this because I love you, [Name]."

You looked at him defeatedly "I know."

He reached out. "Come here."

You stepped forward, letting him wrap his arms around you. "I'm sorry," you mumbled into his chest.

"Oh, [Name]," he cooed. For a brief second, his arms tightened around you, before one reached into his pocket. "Me too."

You were about to ask what he meant, but then you felt a sharp prick in your neck.

"Shhh," he soothed, his arms tightening around you once more. "Don't fight it, just sleep..."

You tried to struggle, but it was almost as if he had super strength, too. "Why?" you demanded. You had never felt so betrayed.

"I want you asleep when I insert the tracking chip," he responded, gently guiding your head to his shoulder. "It was a procedure I should've done from the very start, but I thought my baby loved their Father enough to never try and run away from him." You could hear the bitterness in his voice, the hurt.

"I do love you," you said weakly, your vision starting to blur.

He gently swayed you. "I love you too, which is why I need you to stay with me forever. Even if that means having to resort to these measures."

You wanted to argue, but your body was giving out. The last thing you heard was his voice.

Your eye twitched in annoyance as he hit the villain with several blasts of darkness.

Nightfall's powers were the opposite of yours; he could form anything out of darkness and disappear into the shadows like nothing. Umbrakinesis, you're pretty sure was what it was called.

His powers also didn't have even half of the negative effects yours had on you.

What annoyed you most about this man wasn't the envy you had over his powers—it was the fact this man was a villain, and a villain who had the audacity to act like some kind of know-it-all dad.

He refused to hurt you. You'd honestly prefer if he did over the way he'd gently scold you for doing your job. As if he cared about you, or even knew you.

You sighed and launched another beam of light, the villain knocking over another car as he tried to dodge the attack.

"Why are you helping me?" you asked through gritted teeth.

A tendril of darkness curled around you and yanked you away from the villain's next punch. It carefully set you down further away.

"I'm against children getting hurt, including ones playing dress-up and pretend."

"For the last time! I am not a fucking kid!" You used your anger to shoot a larger blast towards the rock-villain. It made direct contact, and he slumped to the ground with a groan.

You leaned against a wall and took deep breaths, feeling the migraine setting in.

"I'm not a child," you repeated weakly.

Nightfall sighed. "Could've fooled me." He didn't sound like his usual smug, teasing-self. Now he just sounded exasperated and worried. "Sit down. You're injured."

"Don't need your help," you grumbled.

A shadow curled around your leg and tugged you down to the ground. "Humor me."

You huffed and sat against the wall, trying to blink away the fuzziness.

"Oh, honey," he whispered, so quietly that you couldn't hear it over the ringing in your ears. He took off his coat, ripping at the sleeve.

"What're you doing?" you practically slurred.

He ignored you and tied the makeshift bandage around your arm. Your suit had been torn during the fight, and you hadn't even noticed you were bleeding. The pain felt numb, distant, like everything else around you.

You felt yourself being lifted, cradled against his chest. You peered up. Despite your blurry vision, you could see his dark purple mask. Even if it hid his expression, you didn't need to see it. You knew he was concerned and pissed off.

You wanted to hit him. You wanted to fall asleep in his arms.

"Nightfall!" a nearby, familiar voice yelled.

Even through your sleepiness, the voice made you jolt. You looked over to see your mentor, Smolder. His power was the ability to create and control fire. He was a top-hero, and he was the one who taught you how to fight and control your powers.

"Smolder," Nightfall said coolly. "Seems you're a little late. It feels as if I'm playing hero more than you as of lately."

You wiggled in his arms, but his grip tightened. "Put me down," you said, your head swimming.

"Shh, just rest. You've done enough," he murmured.

Smolder stepped forward, flames curling around his fingers. "Give me Prism."

Nightfall let out an annoyed huff. "I think you're just intimidated that I obviously care about their safety more than you. But very well." He carefully set you down on the ground.

You stumbled towards Smolder, your legs shaking. "H-hey, thanks for showing up—"

Smolder gripped your shoulder tightly, making you wince. "Get in the damn car, Prism." As you struggled to get in, Smolder glared back at Nightfall. "I don't know what you're playing at, but you need to back off. And stay away from my protégé."

Nightfall tilted his head. "Funny. I'm not the one who lets them get injured."

Just as Smolder lunged forward to grab Nightfall, the villain disappeared into thin air.

...

It took you a few days to heal, and although you wouldn't say you were anywhere close to being fully recovered, you were well enough to return to the agency.

There had been an anonymous tip to you, that there was suspicious activity coming from a warehouse down by the docks. It was probably a trap, but you decided to check it out anyways. You didn't want to risk anyone getting hurt.

And besides, you were itching for some action.

You crept into the warehouse, looking around. It was dark, save for a few scattered, dim lights here and there. Crates were stacked high, and there was a faint smell of sea water and mold in the air.

You held your hand out, a small ball of light forming in your palm to illuminate your surroundings.

There was nothing. No sounds, no people. You were about to leave, when something shifted behind you. You spun around and raised your other hand, ready to fire a blast.

You froze when you saw who it was.

Standing there, just a few feet away from you, was Nightfall. He was wearing his dark suit, his hands in his pockets.

"Great, it's you," you dryly said.

The corner of his lips quirked upwards. "Good to see you too, Prism. How's the arm?"

"What do you want?" you snapped. "And don't play coy, I know you're the one who tipped me off."

He hummed and took a step closer. "I'll admit, I wasn't sure if you'd come. I figured you'd be smarter than that. Do you blindly obey every anonymous tip you get?"

"No. But I wasn't just gonna ignore it and hope no one gets hurt. What the fuck do you want, Nightfall?"

He took another step forward. You tensed, feeling a little more nervous. His powers were the only thing that could counter yours. And in a place this dark, he was practically at his best.

"I'm simply trying to have a little chat with you. I'm concerned."

You raised an eyebrow. "You barely know me. Why the hell would you be concerned?"

He chuckled and crossed his arms. "Is that what you think? That I don't know you?"

You frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I know more than you think I do, [Name]."

You took a step back, raising both your hands, ready to fire. "Okay, what the fuck—how the hell do you know my real name?"

"I know a lot of things. I know you spend long nights alone in your apartment, staring at the wall and wondering if anyone actually cares about you. I know you've been skipping meals, not getting enough sleep. I know you've been having migraines so bad you can't even open your eyes without feeling nauseous."

Your breath hitched as he stepped closer.

"Your "best friend" is your coworker, Whirlwind—also known as Ivy Floris. Did you know she talks badly about you behind your back?" He circled you like a vulture. "Your birthday is in two weeks. No one will do anything for you. You'd be lucky if anyone even remembered, including your mentor and supposed best friend."

You didn't want to admit it, but he was right. It was like he'd been watching you. And it scared you. It scared you more than any fight you'd been in before.

"Stop," you whispered.

But he didn't. In fact, he began speaking with even more conviction. "Your favorite color is [favorite color], your favorite animal is [favorite animal], and your favorite food is [favorite food]. You love [favorite hobby], but you don't have time for it because your job keeps you too busy—"

"Shut up!" you yelled, firing a blast.

Nightfall sighed and waved a hand, the blast absorbed into the darkness. "You're so worked up. It's sad, really. All you want is to be loved. Taken care of. You want someone to tell you it's okay to rest. Or someone to at least acknowledge all your hard work and tell you they're proud of you."

Tears were pricking your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. "I don't need someone telling me that! I don't need anyone to take care of me—I'm a hero! My job is to take care of others!"

He sighed deeply and lifted a gloved hand. Your breath hitched once again as he took off his mask.

Nightfall looked pretty average—short auburn hair, gray eyes, and an aquiline nose. The only thing that seemed striking were the dark circles under his eyes.

He gently tucked his mask into his pocket before holding out his arms to you. "Come on. Come here. It's okay, I promise."

But you couldn't. You were frozen in a mixture of fear and confusion. If he were Smolder, you would've jumped at the opportunity, but the fact of the matter was, this guy is not Smolder. You couldn't pretend otherwise.

"You're insane," you finally said. "I'm leaving."

You turned away and stormed off, but stopped in your tracks when the shadows shifted in front of you, creating a black wall.

"You're not leaving, kiddo," he said softly.

"Don't call me that!" You turned around and fired another blast, your eyes burning. You felt so tired, so drained. And the attack barely left your hand before it was swallowed up.

Nightfall looked you over with a sad expression, before sighing. "You're not gonna make this easy, are you? Stubborn little thing."

"Fuck off!"

His eyes turned darker. "Watch your mouth. I'm trying to help you."

You almost choked on a laugh. "Help me? You're a villain, how the fuck are you helping me?!"

"I'm giving you an out. I'm giving you a life where you don't have to put yourself in danger. Where you don't have to hurt yourself to help others." He gestured towards you, his expression softening once more. "I can give you the life you want, honey. You don't have to be a hero anymore. You can just... be a kid."

It almost sounded like a good offer. The thought of not having to be responsible for everyone's lives, not having to use your powers... it was tempting. But you couldn't do it. You couldn't give up being a hero. It was all you'd ever wanted.

"No," you said firmly. "I'm not going with you."

He shrugged, a small smile on his face. "I had a feeling you'd say that."

And then, the floor opened up beneath you, and you screamed as you fell through the darkness.

...

When you woke up, you were in a bed.

You jolted up and looked around, panic rising as you realized you weren't in your room.

The room was large yet cozy, the walls painted a light shade of your favorite color. A large window was to your left, sunlight streaming in. You were in a soft bed, with a dark blue blanket draped over you. There was a white dresser in the corner, and a door that led to the bathroom. It looked like a room for a teenager, but it definitely wasn't yours.

What the fuck happened?

You pushed the blankets off and swung your legs off the bed, standing up. You felt a little dizzy, but not too bad. You glanced down and saw you were wearing a white t-shirt and black pajama pants.

You quickly stumbled to the door and tried to open it, only to find it was locked. You rushed to the window and tried to pull it open, but it was also locked. You lifted your hand to form a blast of energy, only for nothing to come out.

You stared at your hand in horror. No. No, no, no—

The door unlocked, and you spun around. Nightfall walked in, wearing casual clothes and a soft smile. You almost forgot this was Nightfall, so used to seeing him in his mask.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," he said. "How are you feeling?"

"What did you do to me?!" you yelled, your voice shaking. "What did you do to my powers?!"

He held up his hands in a placating manner. "Calm down, [Name]. I didn't take them away, I promise. But I had to do something to keep you from hurting yourself. Or me." He lifted his hand and made a gesture to his own wrist.

You stared in confusion, then looked down at your wrist. There was a bulky bracelet—almost a cuff—attached to your right wrist. It looked sleek and dark. It was slightly heavy. You supposed it was the adrenaline that prevented you from noticing it immediately.

"This will dampen your powers. It won't completely get rid of them, but it'll prevent you from doing anything too drastic. Like, I don't know, blowing up my house?"

You glared at him, tugging at the cuff. "Take it off."

He shook his head. "No, I don't think I will. At least, not until I can be sure I can trust you."

"Trust me? You're the one who kidnapped me, you son of a bitch!"

"Language."

You sneered and tried to tackle him, only for him to effortlessly restrain you in the shadowy tendrils again.

"Okay, let's try this again," he gently said. "My name is Anton Jurkowski, also known as Nightfall. But you can call me Anton or dad."

You stared at him in disbelief. "Dad? Are you out of your mind?"

He chuckled. "Maybe. But I'm serious, [Name]. I want to take care of you. I want you to be safe. And I can't do that if you're out there fighting villains and hurting yourself."

"I'm a hero, it's my job to fight villains!"

"Well, not anymore. You're retired." He gently patted your head. "And I'll make sure you never have to go back to that life again."

You were so angry, you could barely see straight. This man, this villain, was trying to take away your life's work, your dream, all because he thought he knew better. You wanted to scream, to cry, to lash out. But the damn cuff on your wrist prevented you from doing any real damage.

You took a deep breath and forced yourself to calm down. Lashing out wouldn't help. You needed to be smart about this.

"Okay," you said, trying to sound as reasonable as possible. "I understand you're worried about me. But you can't just keep me here. People will notice I'm missing."

"What if I told you after I brought you to your new home, I detonated a bomb in the warehouse? The place where your suit and its tracker were last?"

You froze. Oh, fuck.

"Don't worry," he assured you. "No one was hurt. And everyone is convinced you died in the explosion."

You felt dizzy, and you suddenly wanted to throw up. "You... you made everyone think I'm dead?"

He nodded. "It was the only way, kiddo. I'm sorry."

You sat back on the bed, trying to process everything. This couldn't be happening. There was no way.

But it was. Anton was standing there, looking at you with such a soft expression, as if he wasn't the reason your life had just been turned upside down.

"Why me?" you quietly asked. "I don't understand..."

The shadows around you unfurled, and he sat beside you on the bed. "It's a little embarrassing to admit, but I've had my eye on you for a while. You were so young when you first debuted, and I couldn't believe the agency was letting a kid become a hero. I became your 'arch-nemesis' so I could keep an eye on you, and make sure you didn't get hurt. But the more I watched, the more I realized just how much you were struggling."

He shook his head, his expression turning angry.

"You're so sweet, and kind, and... the thought of you losing that spark, thanks to the trauma heroes deal with regularly... the thought broke my heart," he confessed.

"And you don't think getting kidnapped and having my death faked isn't traumatic?" you snidely remarked.

He winced and looked away, shame crossing his face. "I'm... aware of the irony. But at least here, you're safe. You don't have to worry about getting hurt, or having to hurt others. You can just... live."

You didn't know what to say to that.

At your silence, he added, "Of course I'm doing this for selfish reasons too, I won't deny that. I always wanted kids of my own, but the villain life isn't exactly conducive to raising them. When I saw you, I just... couldn't let you go. I wanted to keep you safe, to take care of you."

You stared at him, trying to see if he was lying, but you couldn't find any trace of deception. He genuinely believed he was doing the right thing.

You were in shock. You wanted to go home. You wanted your old life back. But as you looked at the man sitting beside you, you realized that wasn't going to happen.

He was going to keep you here, whether you liked it or not.

But you wouldn't give up. If demanding and yelling wouldn't work, maybe genuine pleading would.

You grabbed onto the sleeve of his shirt, making him look back at you. "Please," you whispered. "Please, let me go. I promise, I'll be careful. I won't push myself too hard. Just... don't keep me here."

He looked at you with such pity. It made your heart ache.

"I can't do that, honey. I'm sorry." He gently patted your head. "I know this is a lot to take in. But I promise, I'll make you happy here. You'll see."

You could feel the tears finally falling down your cheeks. "I hate you."

His expression fell a little, but he nodded in acceptance. "I know. But I'll love you enough for the both of us."

...

A day after that, you were allowed to leave your room.

"Your room isn't a prison, it's just a place to sleep," Anton had assured you. "As long as you behave, you can go anywhere in the house, except my office or the basement. Okay?"

He had given you a tour, showing you the living room, kitchen, and the backyard. It was a nice house, you had to admit. It was big and spacious, with lots of natural light and comfortable furniture. It was like something out of a magazine. If you weren't being held captive, you might've actually liked it.

There were no neighbors around for miles. The house was in a remote location, surrounded by trees and hills. You had no idea where you were, and you had no way of finding out. You didn't have a phone, and the cuff on your wrist prevented you from using your powers to even signal for help.

You were stuck.

After the tour, Anton sat you down at the kitchen table and gave you some breakfast. It was simple, just some scrambled eggs and toast, but it was still better than what you usually ate. You had to admit, he could cook.

He sat across from you, sipping his coffee and watching you eat. You tried to ignore him, focusing on your food, but it was hard.

"So, what do you want to do today?" he asked.

You huffed. "What can I even do? I have no phone, can't use my powers, and there's no one for several miles out here."

"There's me," he said, offering a soft smile.

You rolled your eyes and stabbed your eggs with your fork. "Great. My kidnapper is my only source of entertainment."

He chuckled. "I know this is hard for you, but I'm sure we'll figure something out. Maybe we can watch a movie, or play a board game. Or we could go for a walk in the woods."

He sounded so excited, like a dad trying to connect with his estranged child. It would have been almost endearing if the circumstances were different.

You sighed. "Fine. A walk, I guess." At least that'd give you the opportunity to map the area out a bit.

He beamed and stood up. "Great! Let's finish up breakfast and head out."

...

The walk was nice, but it was also frustrating.

Anton kept trying to make small talk, asking you about your favorite movies and music. You gave him short, clipped answers, not in the mood to humor him. He didn't seem offended, though. He just kept talking, telling you about his own interests and hobbies.

"Oh, look at that," he said, pointing to a small stream. "We could go fishing here, if you'd like. Or maybe have a picnic. Would you like that?"

You shrugged, not really paying attention. You were too busy trying to memorize your surroundings, looking for any possible escape routes. But the more you looked, the more hopeless you felt. You were in the middle of nowhere, with no idea where you were or how to get back to civilization.

Anton noticed your distraction and sighed. "You're not even listening to me, are you?"

"No," you bluntly said.

He shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. "I know you're angry with me, but I'm trying here. The least you could do is meet me halfway."

"Why?" you snapped. "So you can feel better about kidnapping me?"

He frowned. "No. I just... I want to get to know you. I want to bond with you. Please, just give me something to work with here."

Maybe if he gained more trust in you, you could get this stupid bracelet off quicker. Just a little bit of your pride would have to be sacrificed.

You sighed and rubbed your face. "You seem to know me a lot more than I know you. I think I'd rather ask you questions." Your own sentence sent a shiver down your spine. You couldn't believe this guy was stalking you.

He perked up. "Okay. Ask me anything."

"Why did you become a villain?"

He blinked, as if not expecting the question. "Oh. Well... I've always had this power, ever since I was a kid. But when I started using it more, I realized I could do things no one else could. I could help people, but in a way that most wouldn't agree with. I guess I just... like the freedom of being a villain. I don't have to answer to anyone."

That wasn't a bad answer, honestly. You could understand where he was coming from.

"What about you?" he asked. "Why did you become a hero?"

You shrugged. "I have these powers. I owe it to the world to help people with them."

He shook his head. "That's a terrible reason. You shouldn't be putting yourself in danger just because you feel like you have to."

"It's my choice," you argued. "And it's what I want."

He sighed. "Well, it doesn't matter now. You're not a hero anymore."

You gritted your teeth, but didn't respond.

The rest of the walk was mostly silent. You asked him a few more questions, but the conversation was strained. You knew he was trying, but you just couldn't bring yourself to care.

Eventually, he led you back to the house. It was almost sunset, and you were tired from the day. All you wanted was to take a shower and go to sleep.

But Anton had other plans.

"We should celebrate your first day here," he said, as you entered the kitchen. "We could have a nice dinner, maybe watch a movie together."

You sighed. "I'm not really in the mood."

"Nonsense," he said, already going to the fridge. "I'll make us something nice. You go take a shower and relax. I'll call you when it's ready."

You opened your mouth to protest, but he gave you a look that told you he wasn't going to take no for an answer. You grumbled and trudged up the stairs to your room.

After taking a shower and changing into fresh clothes, you laid down on your bed and stared at the ceiling. You felt exhausted, mentally and emotionally. You wanted to go home. You wanted your life back.

But that wasn't going to happen. Not anytime soon.

You closed your eyes and tried to sleep, but you couldn't. Your mind was racing, thinking about everything that had happened and what you were going to do. You were stuck here, with a man who claimed to care about you, but had taken away your freedom.

After what felt like hours, there was a knock on your door.

"Dinner's ready," Anton called out.

You reluctantly got up and opened the door. Anton was standing there, wearing an apron and a bright smile. You rolled your eyes and followed him to the dining room.

The dinner was nothing special, just some spaghetti and garlic bread. But it tasted better than the meals you'd been making for yourself. You ate in silence, not really in the mood for conversation.

Afterwards, he insisted on watching a movie. You sat on the couch, as far away from him as possible, while he put on some cheesy action film.

About halfway through, you felt your eyes getting heavy. You tried to fight it, not wanting to fall asleep around him, but it was no use. You were exhausted.

You didn't even notice when your head fell onto his shoulder, or when he carefully wrapped an arm around you. You were too far gone in your dreams to care.

...

A whole month passed. You and Anton had settled into a routine, as weird as it was. He'd make breakfast, you'd go for a walk or do some chores around the house, have lunch, and then spend the rest of the day however you wanted. Sometimes he'd make dinner, other times you'd have leftovers.

He was always trying to get you to talk to him, to open up. You resisted at first, but eventually, you found yourself actually engaging in conversations with him. It was... nice, in a way. He was easy to talk to, and he seemed genuinely interested in what you had to say.

But you still wanted to go home.

You boredly watched him from the lawn chair outside as he watered the flowers. He was humming to himself, looking completely content. It was so strange seeing how different he was from Nightfall, like two separate people completely.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked, not looking at you.

You blinked, surprised he knew you were watching. "Nothing. Just... how different you are from your villain persona."

He chuckled. "Well, Nightfall is a character, more or less. I have to put on a show, keep up appearances. But this," he gestured to himself, "this is who I really am."

You judgmentally looked him up and down. "A clingy, emotionally unstable old man with bad taste in fashion?"

He shot you a playful glare. "Hey, I'll have you know my fashion sense is impeccable. And I'm not old."

"Not denying the 'clingy, emotionally unstable' part?"

He smiled sheepishly and turned back to his flowers. "Well, I'm not gonna lie to you."

You smirked, but it quickly fell as you thought about the situation you were in. You stared up at the sky, bored once again.

Your boredom was interrupted by the sound of ringing.

Anton took his phone out and cursed under his breath. "Dad's gotta take this, okay? Wanna take over hose duty? Might give you something to do." He lifted the hose as an offering.

Was he really willing to leave you outside? He really trusted you not to run?

You shrugged. "Sure. Go take your stupid call."

He handed you the hose and walked inside, already talking to whoever was on the other line. You could barely hear him from here.

You sighed and started watering the flowers. It was mindless work, but it really was something to do. You looked around the yard, seeing the high fence surrounding the property. Even if you wanted to make a break for it, you wouldn't get very far.

You stopped watering and went to the fence, peering through the slats. Nothing but trees for miles. You were truly isolated out here.

But maybe if you just could get this stupid cuff off of you...

You looked around. Maybe there'd be something outside to break it with. You weren't really sure what would work. The cuff seemed pretty sturdy. But you had to try something.

You quietly made your way around the yard, checking every nook and cranny. There was nothing that seemed useful. Even all the rocks weren't big enough to do any actual damage.

But then you spotted the shed.

It was small, but it might have something inside. You quickly made your way to it, trying the handle. It was unlocked. You quietly opened it and looked inside.

There were tools. Hammers, screwdrivers, wrenches. Maybe you could use one of them to break the cuff. It was worth a shot.

You reached for a hammer, just as the door to the house opened. You quickly shut the shed door and turned around, trying to look as casual as possible.

Anton walked towards you with a frown. "What were you doing?"

"Just, uh, checking out the shed," you said, trying to sound nonchalant. "Wanted to see if there was anything interesting in there."

He raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. "Really. And what did you find?"

"Nothing, really. Just some tools."

He hummed, not looking convinced. "Well, come on inside. I'll make us some lunch."

You nodded and followed him, trying to hide your disappointment. So close.

...

Another day passed, but all you could think about was the shed.

You wanted to get in there, to find something that could help you get the cuff off. But Anton was always around, always watching you. It was like he knew what you were planning.

But you had to try. You couldn't just sit here and accept your fate.

That night, after Anton had gone to bed, you quietly snuck out of your room and made your way downstairs.

You crept to the back door, slowly opening it. You winced at the slight creak it made, but continued on. You quickly made your way to the shed, praying he didn't have cameras out here.

The crickets were chirping loudly. You hoped it'd cover up the noise you were about to make.

As you made your way to the shed, your face fell when you saw the door had a lock on it that had definitely not been there before.

Of course he would've locked it. He wasn't an idiot.

The bastard had noticed, smiled at you over lunch, and then quietly changed things the second your back was turned.

You tried to remember what hero training had taught you.

Observe and assess the situation before acting.

You circled around the shed, looking for any weak spots or windows.

There was a broken window on the side, but it was too high for you to reach, barely large enough to crawl through. You looked around for something to stand on. There was the small table by the lawn chairs. You quietly dragged it over.

Once it was in position, you climbed on top of it and reached for the window. You winced as the broken glass cut your hand, but you muffled a cry by biting your tongue.

You carefully pulled yourself through, trying not to cut yourself further. You ended up tumbling into the shed, hitting the floor with a thud. You groaned and sat up, checking yourself for injuries. Your whole arm was already beginning to bleed, but nowhere else had taken any damage. It hurt, but you had faced much worse before.

You stood up and looked around. It was dark, but you could make out some shapes. You made your way to the workbench and fumbled around, looking for anything that could help.

You found a heavy wrench and gripped it tightly. This could work.

You placed your wrist on the workbench. You took a deep breath, then brought the wrench down on the cuff as hard as you could.

The sound of metal on metal was deafening in the silence. You cringed and hit it again, and again, each time wincing at the noise.

Come on, come on...

On the fifth hit, the cuff finally cracked. You let out a sigh of relief and hit it one more time, the cuff falling off your wrist.

You quickly stood up and threw the wrench aside, feeling a surge of power run through you. You hadn't realized how much you missed it until it was gone.

There was no more time to waste. You blasted a hole through the wall. Normally your powers were dimmed at nighttime or in darker spaces, but it was as if not using your powers for such a long period of time had strengthened them.

You climbed through the newly-made hole and ran. You didn't know where you were going, but you knew you had to get away from here.

Noise was the last concern of yours now. You blasted another hole through the fence, running through it. The trees were dark and intimidating, but you didn't care. You just had to get away.

As you were running, you heard a distant shout. Anton had woken up. You pushed yourself harder, ignoring the burning in your lungs. You couldn't let him catch you. You wouldn't go back.

You didn't dare stop, but slowed only slightly to look up. There were no planes as far as you could see. No convenient heroes flying overhead.

Your legs were sore, your body aching. You'd forgotten how hard it was to run this much, especially in bare feet.

Looking up while running was apparently a horrible idea, because you tumbled down a hill, rolling in dirt and leaves. You grunted as you hit the bottom, your vision spinning.

You stood back up and blinked the dizziness away. You were deep in the foliage. There was a nearby shallow creek and several trees scattered around.

On top of everything, you were pretty sure you sprained your ankle. You leaned against a nearby tree to regain your breath.

"[NAME]!"

Anton's voice was still fairly far away, but you knew you had no time to spare. As soon as he sees you, all it'd take is one snap of his fingers and his shadows could easily bind you.

You wanted to flash your light at the sky to get anyone's attention, but you feared that'd just give your spot up to Anton even quicker.

The only other thing you could do was hide.

You stumbled behind the largest tree and crouched down, trying to calm your breathing. You heard Anton get closer, calling your name. You covered your mouth in a desperate attempt to muffle your heavy breaths.

"Do you know how much this is hurting me?" Anton sneered. You'd never heard him sound so angry, even when he was fronting as Nightfall. "I'm just trying to protect you! To keep you safe! And this is how you repay me?!"

You could hear his footsteps crunching on the leaves. You squeezed your eyes shut.

"Did you want to play hero again? Is that what this is?" He laughed, but it was humorless. "You're not a hero anymore! You're just a brat who doesn't know what's good for them!"

The sound of leaves crunching began getting unsettlingly close.

"They've already replaced you," he darkly continued. "Smolder's already got himself a new favorite protégé. Your 'best friend' did an interview and didn't even shed a tear for you. I bet they were less impacted than I am right now, just at the thought of you injured! And you still want to go back to them?!"

You could hear his footsteps stopping, just a few feet away from your hiding spot.

In a rage, he used his shadowy tendrils to grab a nearby tree, hauling it out of the ground. It crashed to the ground, echoing loudly in the forest.

For a moment, he was rooted in place, panting. He exhaled shakily and ran a hand through his dark hair. "I'm not mad at you, baby. I'm just... I'm hurt. I'm hurt that you don't see how much I care about you. How much I love you."

You could hear his voice cracking. He was seriously crying.

"If you come out now, we'll just go home and talk. That's all. No punishment, no yelling. And you're hurt, aren't you? We'll take care of that, too. I'll try my hardest not to freak out. Wouldn't you like that?" He took a deep breath. "I love you. And no matter what, I'll always love you. But you're scaring me right now, [Name]. Please come out."

He went silent. He was waiting for you.

But you couldn't. You couldn't let him find you.

After a few moments, he sighed.

You thought that was it, that maybe he'd walk away.

"Alright, fine. Hard way it is, then."

You felt tendrils of darkness quickly creeping around the tree, grabbing you before you could even run. You gasped as they pulled you out of your hiding spot.

Anton stood there with a grim expression on his face. He was sweaty and disheveled, his clothes dirty. But his eyes were what scared you the most. They were dark and cold.

You lifted a hand at him and let a burst of light escape, hoping to get him away. It hit him directly in the chest, and he stumbled back with a grunt.

The tendrils around you dropped you, and you used the opportunity to run.

You could hear him behind you, yelling your name. You pushed yourself harder, ignoring the pain in your ankle and the exhaustion in your body.

But you were too slow.

You felt the shadows wrap around you again, this time tighter. They pulled you back, and you fell to the ground. You struggled against them, trying to break free, but it was no use.

Anton stood over you, breathing heavily. He had a hand over his chest, where you had hit him. You could see the burn mark on his shirt. You felt a sliver of satisfaction at that, but it quickly faded when you saw the look on his face.

He was angry. No, not just angry. He was furious.

"[Name] Jurkowski, you are in so much trouble," he hissed.

You didn't even have time to express distaste at the shared surname before the shadows dragged you back to the house. You noticed he was still careful not to hurt you, even though he was clearly pissed.

When you got back, he slammed the back door shut and threw you onto the couch. He stood over you, his eyes blazing.

"Stay there," he ordered.

You wanted to fight, to run, but a shadow kept you tethered in place. You could fight it, but you didn't think it'd be worth the risk right now.

Anton disappeared for a few minutes, coming back with a first-aid kit. He roughly grabbed your arm and started cleaning the cuts you had gotten from the window. It stung, but you didn't show it.

You refused to look at him, staring at the wall instead. You were angry, but you were also scared. You had never seen him like this before.

Once he was done, he wrapped your arm in bandages and moved on to your ankle. It was swollen and bruised. He gently touched it, making you wince.

"You sprained it," he said coldly.

You didn't respond. You just wanted this to be over.

He wrapped your ankle and stood up, crossing his arms. "Now. What am I going to do with you?"

You finally looked at him with a glare. "Let me go."

He laughed, but it was bitter. "Oh, no. That's not happening. You've proven that I can't trust you." A shadow slithered across the wall and came back with a cuff like the last one, but it looked almost twice as bulky. You stared at it with wide eyes. "This," he said, holding it up, "is one of the prototypes. Less comfortable, but just as effective."

You tried to scoot away, but the shadow kept you in place. "You can't be serious."

"Oh, I am. You brought this on yourself." He sat down beside you and roughly grabbed your uninjured wrist, locking the cuff around your wrist.

It was just as heavy as it looked.

"There," Anton said, his voice still cold. "Now you can't go around hurting yourself or others."

You slumped in defeat. You were back to square one. No, worse than square one. Now he was mad at you. And you had no idea what he was going to do.

He sighed and rubbed his face. "Why did you run?"

"Because I want to go home!" you yelled. "I want my life back!"

Anton gave you a glare, then grabbed the remote to the TV.

Almost immediately, you were met with the news.

"Tonight we have a special segment on the new hero that's been making waves," the news anchor said, and your heart sank when you saw Smolder.

He looked different than when you saw him last. He was wearing a new suit, and he had a cocky grin on his face. He looked like he was having the time of his life.

But it was someone else that was next to him. A younger kid with bright blonde hair and a flashy suit. They looked excited to be standing next to their new mentor.

"Smolder," the reporter said, "how does it feel to have a new sidekick so soon after losing Prism?"

"Prism was never my sidekick, just a student," Smolder quickly corrected. "And of course we will all miss Prism, but we're heroes. Loss is simply... part of the job."

The reporter nodded. "And what about the rumors that you were planning on retiring Prism before their unfortunate demise?"

Smolder waved it off. "Those are just rumors. And who cares about that now? We have a new hero to focus on!" He placed his hand on the kid's shoulder. "This is the future. Don't worry about the past."

You felt like you were going to be sick. You couldn't believe what you were hearing. Anton wasn't lying. Smolder, the man you had trusted, was just... moving on. Like you meant nothing to him. And you knew that kid was going to be pushed to their limits, forced to grow up too fast, just like you were.

And Ivy... did she really not care that you were gone? Was the friendship you thought you had just a lie?

Anton turned off the TV, making you look at him. He was no longer angry, but he looked tired and sad.

"See?" he said softly. "They don't care about you like I do. They never did. You were just a tool to them."

You wanted to argue, to defend them. But how could you? The evidence was right there. They had moved on, just like he said they would.

"I don't care if they've moved on," you said, but your wavering voice said otherwise. "I don't care if they're celebrating my death! I don't care if everyone in the world thinks I'm the easiest person to hate, I still don't want to be here!"

He sighed and shook his head. "You're too stubborn for your own good." He stood up, grabbing a towel and change of clothing with his shadows's assistance. "Here's what's gonna happen, kiddo; you're gonna clean up, put on these change of clothes, and meet me back here. Can I trust you to do that without trying to escape again?"

You looked away and nodded, not trusting yourself to speak.

"Good. And one more thing," he said, making you look back at him. "I love you. And I'm not giving up on you. You're stuck with me, whether you like it or not."

For a moment, you were frozen. You stared at the floor, and he didn't shoo you away. He only stared at you.

You finally shuffled to the bathroom. Your ankle still throbbed, but the pain was much better than before.

You took a quick shower, trying to ignore the sting of the water on your cuts. Once you were done, you changed into the clothes Anton had given you—a simple t-shirt and shorts.

When you came back, Anton was on the couch, waiting with crossed arms.

He didn't need to make any gestures or movements. You stood in front of him, avoiding his gaze.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked quietly.

You blinked back tears and finally looked at him. "I don't know."

"I'm not mad at you," he gently said. "I'm just disappointed. And worried. You could've gotten seriously hurt. What would I have done if you died, [Name]?"

You bit your lip and looked away. "I've been through way worse."

"That's exactly my point. You shouldn't have gone through that in the first place." He gestured to the couch. "C'mere."

You hesitantly sat next to him. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you close. You tensed, but didn't fight him.

"You're safe here," he whispered. "I won't let anyone hurt you. Not even yourself. And I'll do everything I can to make you happy here. But I need you to trust me, okay? Can you do that for me?" He felt you nod against him. "Good. Then you should understand what happens next."

"...what do you mean?" You pulled back with wide eyes.

He sighed and stood up. "Follow me."

Half of you was tempted to run and fight again, but you knew it was useless. You just tiredly followed him to a door that you had always overlooked before, at the end of the hall. Anton took a key from his pocket and unlocked the door. You peeked inside, expecting to see a dark room out of a horror movie.

Instead, it was a small room—half the size of your room—with nothing but a mattress, a thin blanket, and a small bathroom attached. The walls and floor were stark white. The only light was from a dim lightbulb in the ceiling.

You turned to Anton with a horrified expression. "You're locking me in here?!"

"It's just a time-out room," he explained. "It breaks my heart to do this too, sweetie, but I can't just let you get away with what you did. I need you to understand that there are consequences to your actions."

You were speechless. You couldn't believe he was doing this.

"Please, don't do this," you begged. "I won't do it again, I promise."

He shushed you softly, guiding you in. "You'll still get three meals a day. I can give you any comfort items, but other than that, you..." He trailed off at the sight of you clutching your chest, breathing hard and sliding down against the wall. "Honey? Hey, hey, what's wrong? Are you hurt?"

You couldn't answer. You were too busy having a panic attack. Everything just hit you at once. You were trapped, your hero life was gone, no one was coming to save you. You were never going to see your friends again.

Anton kneeled down next to you. His expression was almost just as pained as yours. "Oh, baby, don't cry. It's okay, it's gonna be okay."

You shook your head and buried your face in your hands.

He ever-so-gently pried them away from your face. "Come here," he whispered, pulling you into a hug. "You're alright. I've got you. Dad's here."

His words only made you cry harder. You no longer fought as he pulled you into his lap and swayed the both of you gently. He guided your head to the crook of his neck, burying his nose against your hair.

"Just breathe," he whispered. "Dad's got you, kiddo. Just breathe."

You tried to do as he said, focusing on his breathing.

He kissed the side of your head. "There we go, that's it. You're doing such a good job, I'm so proud of you. In for four, hold for four, out for four..." He guided you through the breathing exercise until your chest stopped heaving. He pulled back and wiped your tears away. "Oh, [Name]..."

"Please don't do this," you begged. "Please, Dad. I'll be good. I'll never run away again, I'll never disobey you again..." You desperately leaned into his hand and squeezed your eyes shut. You could already feel another panic attack coming on.

He pursed his lips and exhaled through his nose. He hugged you again, pressing a few more kisses to your hair. "I can't do that, sweetie. I want to, believe me, I do, but I can't. You need to learn."

You shook your head and clutched onto his shirt. "I promise, I promise I'll learn. Please, please, I can't stay in here—"

"Shh, it's alright. Just for a week, okay?"

"Just?!"

"And we'll see from there." He pulled back again, and you were once again met with a sad smile. "I know you hate me right now. But I do love you. And I'll see you in a week." He stood up, and you reached for him, almost instinctually. He took your hand and gave it a squeeze. "You're safe, baby. I'll be right in the house. I'll bring you your meals. Just take this time to think, okay?"

You opened and closed your mouth. "Can... can you at least stay for a few minutes? I—please..." You couldn't believe you were begging to spend time with your kidnapper. You felt pathetic.

He was quick to nod and sit on the mattress, beckoning you to sit beside him.

You sat next to him, your hands trembling. He took them in his and gently rubbed them.

"Would you like me to talk to you?" he asked. "Or would you rather I be quiet?"

You shrugged. "I don't know."

"That's okay. I'll stay as long as you need, okay? I won't leave you like this."

You nodded and leaned against him. He wrapped his arm around you and held you close.

You felt so small. So powerless. You hated it.

But for now, you just wanted to be held.

So you let him.

...

The first day was the worst.

You refused to eat, refused to do anything but sit on the mattress and stare at the wall. Anton tried to coax you into eating, but you ignored him. He sighed and left the food there, saying he'd be back later.

You didn't touch it.

The second day was a little better. You were bored out of your mind, so you actually ate the food. It was cold, but you didn't care.

Anton seemed relieved that you ate. He asked you if you needed anything else, but you just shook your head. He nodded and left.

The third day, you were starting to go stir-crazy. You paced the room, tried to do some exercises, anything to pass the time. It was miserable.

On the fourth day, you finally broke down and asked Anton to bring you something to do. He only sadly shook his head and said this was the point of the time-out. You cursed at him and told him to go away.

On the fifth day, you apologized. He didn't respond—he tried to avoid giving more than one or two words each time he came in—but you could see the pain in his eyes.

You were going crazy in this small white room. So crazy that you missed him so much.

The first few days you tried to deny it. But you couldn't anymore. You missed his hugs and his voice. You missed the way he'd gently pat your head or scratch your back. You missed feeling loved.

What if he hated you after this? Would he stop giving you affection? Would he be distant? Would he let you go?

Wait, shouldn't you have wanted the opposite? Wouldn't it be better if he hated you and let you go?

You didn't know what you wanted anymore. All you knew was that you were miserable.

On the sixth day, you saw the camera. It was placed only to make sure you wouldn't hurt yourself, but there was a small area of space for your privacy's sake.

You didn't take advantage of that small pocket of space. Instead, you pleaded, sobbed, and begged the camera—the man behind it—to just let you out.

Unbeknownst to you, there were several times Anton nearly caved. He'd been watching you all day, noticing how your behavior had slowly changed as the days passed. But he had to be firm, for your own good. It'd all be worth it in the end.

But fuck, he was tempted to break the rules and wrap you up in a blanket and cuddle you to sleep.

On the seventh day, you didn't even move. You laid on the mattress, curled in a fetal position.

You just wanted this to be over. You wanted Anton. You couldn't even think of how humiliating this all was, it didn't even matter to you anymore. You didn't even have it in you to think about your hero days, the days that had felt so long ago. All you could think about was the present and future.

Anton was right. He was the only one in this world who seemed to love you.

If he hadn't known your death was staged, if he had been in Smolder's place, he'd be hysterical in grief. You knew it.

He went through so much just to keep you here. Wasn't that the most ultimate form of love? No one else would do half of what he's done for you.

You didn't even hear the door open. You didn't even realize the mattress had dipped.

"Hi, pumpkin."

You lifted your head and stared for a moment. It took you a moment to process Anton was really there. You quickly sat up and threw yourself into his arms, clinging to him.

He hugged you back tightly. "I'm here. I'm here, it's okay."

You sobbed into his shoulder, muttering apologizes between each cry.

"It's okay, I forgive you. It's over now. I promise."

"Please don't leave me," you begged. "I'll be good, I promise. I won't run away again. I'll do whatever you say. Just don't leave me."

He rubbed your back and kissed your hair. "I won't leave you, ever. You're stuck with me, remember?"

You nodded and held onto him tighter. Your whole body shook with the force of each sob. He rocked you gently, humming a soft tune. You didn't recognize it, but it was soothing.

After a while, your cries subsided to quiet hiccups. Anton pulled back and wiped your tears away.

"I'm so sorry," you whispered. "No more. Please, Dad."

The title wasn't thrown on to manipulate him this time.

You meant it.

He smiled softly and kissed your forehead. "I know. It's all over now. Let's go get you cleaned up, okay? Then we can cuddle on the couch and watch a movie. How does that sound?"

You nodded, still sniffling. "Okay."

You barely paid attention to anything after that. Anton spoke, but you didn't register anything he said. You were too focused on being back in his arms and out of that damn room.

You took a quick shower, brushed your teeth, and changed into fresh clothes. Anton had prepared your favorite snack and drink for the movie.

You sat on the couch, Anton right next to you. He draped a blanket over the both of you and pulled you close. You rested your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. It was calm and steady, and it made you feel safe. You felt like you could finally relax.

He kissed the top of your head. "You okay?"

You didn't respond, only burying your head in his side and hugging him like a koala, much to his overjoyment.

Just a week ago, you would've thrown up at the thought of clinging to your kidnapper. Every movie night, you'd sit at the farthest end of the couch away from him. You'd argue, sneer, and throw insults at him.

Now you were snuggled up against him like a scared child. You didn't care anymore. You couldn't find the energy to even pretend to hate him.

He was all you had now. And you needed him.