#captured hero

November 26 "in the PINK" (6\16\26 my pink days)

Nothing Comes for Free part 2

(Cw: description of injury, blood, captivity)

Coming to terms with what they had done seemed like a monumental task, so Hero simply decided not to waste the energy. Instead, they focused their worries solely on their companion.

They sat on the floor with their back against the wall, hands wringing through their belt loop behind them. The way that they had been dumped in an empty room and forgotten was at least giving them hope that Sidekick was getting the attention they needed. Hero tried not think about how much blood they must have lost along the way. Villain would keep them alive, and then they'd be healthy and safe.

They had to be.

After what seemed like a lifetime, Villain returned to the room holding a key. Hero almost folded in relief that the ache in their arms was soon to be released. Before that though, there was a more pressing concern that needed to be addressed.

“Are they ok?” Hero blurted and the villain barely blinked. They hauled them up by the arm, spinning them around to face the wall and sliding the key into the cuffs with a click. Hero tried to turn back around once their hands were free, but a palm between their shoulder blades kept them pressed against the wall.

“Empty your pockets.”

Hero made no move to obey the order.

“Are they?” they repeated.

“Empty your pockets or you won’t get to find out.” Came the villain’s harsh reply.

Reluctantly, the hero reached into their gear’s many compartments and started dumping various pocket junk to the floor, passing anything dangerous directly into the hands of the villain behind them. Nothing too exciting, as all of their main weaponry still lay on the ground of the battlefield clipped to the belt that they had discarded.

“Please, are they alive?” the hero asked quietly, and it came out just a little broken.

“Your little sidekick is alive, yes.”

Hero let out the sigh of the century. Hand finally removed from their back, Hero turned and faced the villain that had stepped back.

“Can I see them?”

“No,” Villain answered easily. That wasn’t terribly surprising to Hero, but their stomach dropped nonetheless. With Sidekick's safety (somewhat) confirmed, they couldn't help but wonder what exactly they had signed themselves up for. Surely, there wasn't much harm in asking.

“What now?”

Villain considered them for a moment. Their eyes trailed up and down their body with cold appraisal, putting the Hero slightly on edge. Hero shifted on their feet in the silence. They just barely caught the shift to harsh scrutinization in the villain's eyes before they spoke, catching the hero off guard.

“Lift up your shirt.”

“What?” Hero questioned, confused. They weren't hiding anything; they wouldn't couldn't risk Sidekick's life like that. They wrapped their arms around themselves warily. The villain's demeanor had completely changed, overtaken by what Hero could only guess was some kind of thinly-vieled anger.

They took a long step forward and Hero took one back.

What did they suspect?

“Lift. Your shirt,” Villain ordered harshly. “I won’t ask again.”

Shaking hands grasped the crusted hem of their top. At the serious look on the villain’s face, Hero obeyed slowly, peeling the fabric up to the bottom of their sternum.

“Idiot,” Villain scoffed, their eyes trained on the hero’s side. Confused, the hero followed their gaze down to find their abdomen slicked with blood. Their blood, not Sidekick’s. A piece of shrapnel was embedded tightly between their ribs with blood oozing out slowly but steadily around it.

“Oh,” the hero spoke dumbly. “Shit.”

Right on time, a wave of dizziness hit them suddenly and they reached their arm out to brace it on the wall. Unfortunately, they miscalculated how close they were to said wall, sending their arm through nothing but the air and subsequently their body stumbling.

“Sit down,” Villain droned. “I’m not gonna catch your dumb ass.”

Hero heeded the advice, finally finding the wall and sliding down it unceremoniously. Well, that wasn't good. Hero sucked a large breath in and their abdomen pulsed strongly in response. They hissed, slowly curling loosely into a fetal position and breathing as shallowly as possible.

In front of them, the villain seemed exasperated, or maybe that was just the judgement of a hero in hypovelemic shock.

For all intents and purposes, the villain griped, “You two are more trouble than you’re worth.”

The hero could only groan in response.

(Warning: Mild implication of fear of sexual assault (could be a different fear, it’s very vague))

[‘Villain’ POV]

She should be, and obviously is, terrified by me. Yet, for some reason, she sticks close to my side.

I don’t bother to ask why until I spot her sitting up in the middle of camp under the stars, valiantly fighting her eyelids to keep them from lowering. You’d think, in her position, you would need all the rest you can get.

I step quietly into the ring of sleeping bodies, suddenly intensely curious about the motives of my captive.

She startles hard when she senses me, whipping her now-wide-awake head in my direction. As my face comes into view via the dying firelight, she slumps, letting out a tight breath.

Not the reaction I usually get, to say the least.

“Waiting for a chance to sneak away?” I query, ever-so-intrigued by the woman I had captured. Her chances of slipping out of this camp were slim-to-none, but I would never put it past her to try.

“Come to gloat in the middle of the night?” she challenges, in lieu of entertaining my question. Pointedly, I ignore her bite, softened though it is by her whispering tone.

I take a careful seat in the dirt a few feet away, close enough to converse without disturbing the slumbering men around us.

“You should be asleep. Rest is nothing but a benefit for you,” I drawl, draping an arm causally over my bent knee.

To deprive herself is nothing but a willful disadvantage, and she is not one to simply relinquish the upper hand.

She narrows her eyes in my direction. In the dark, it must be hard to read my expression.

“I could say the same for you.”

I get the feeling she’s been studying me just as much as I have been studying her.

“Ah,” I hum, “but I already have all the advantage I need.”

She scowls at my words.

“Careful. Arrogance has taken down men much larger than you.”

At that, she lies herself down, presumably attempting to end the conversation. Unfortunately for her, I do not tend to allow anyone but myself to hold the last word.

“Would you sleep better if we bound you on a lead behind the horses during the day?” I lilt. The threat of making her walk the days-long journey on foot was not something I seriously considered, but I sought to test her reaction as if I had. Thus far, she had been far too comfortable and relaxed for my liking.

Finally, she tenses, but it’s clear there’s no adrenaline behind it. Not like there was earlier. Before she knew the figure approaching was me.

She sits up, making unbreakable eye contact with me as she speaks, “With the way your crew looks at me?”

She smothers a laugh, turning her head away then whispering, “I don’t think I’ll ever sleep again.”

Few things are able catch me off guard, but the tear forming in the corner of her eye reflecting the orange of the cooling coals manages to do just that.

So her fear stems from those around her other than myself. Inexplicably, I find myself entirely opposed to that idea.

The Beast (Part 4)

The soft hum of cooling fans and the clacking of keys were the only sound in the small and dimly lit room. A CCTV feed trained on a small kennel displayed on a screen in the far corner. The villain glanced over at the first sign of movement.

Their patient was waking up, but they would have to wait. The villain was on the verge of a discovery.

Their patient's blood had been genetically modified. Expertly, gorgeously. Though the effects seemed to be leveling out over time, their muscular growth was abnormally rapid. Any small injuries showed accelerated healing.

The growth affected their larynx, unfortunately. Given the patient was able to preserve a certain level of cognition, other organs adjusted appropriately...

Loss of speech was a... Strange side effect.

The bones and muscles were proportionately mutated, practically symmetrical. Organs matched the rapid growth of the body. Their patient grew into a theoretically sustainable form. The fact that they survived at all was a miracle.

Their patient might not be so lucky if they attempt to revert back.

Whoever was responsible did not stop at one. The mutation was much too precise and refined. This was a team and decades of research. Money.

So, who had the resources for this kind of human experimentation?

The MRI offered something of a clue. A small device, implanted at the base of the patient's skull. Whoever set this transformation into motion expected the patient to roam free. The villain extracted the device too late, well over 24 hours. It was active.

Someone would come to collect their experiment soon.

The villain best prepare for their guest.

-

The hero paced the kennel with growing panic. They had misjudged the villain's capacity for harm, clearly. They kept running their hands along the stitches on the back of their head.

Breath in. Breath out.

They needed a plan of escape.

The floor and walls were solid concrete. Thick iron bars reenforced the door. There was a small gap between the door and floor. A much larger gap between the iron bars and the ceiling. Not large enough to squeeze through.

The first rule of imprisonment, find your captor's motive. Their eyes flicked to the CCTV trained on their kennel. There wasn't enough room to escape, but their inhumanly long claws could reach the camera.

They smiled devilishly. If their captor wanted to spy, they'd have to work for it. They climbed up the iron bars and reached for the small camera. Their claws clamped around the device, and they yanked.

Wiring crackled as the connections snapped.

They threw the camera on the concrete as hard as they could. Surprisingly sturdy.

Good.

They grabbed the camera and beat it against the ground, over and over, until it cracked into was a mess of circuitry and plastic. They imagined the villain's skull.

Shouting down the hall, followed by a loud THUD.

Silence.

The hero readied themselves to lunge, but they stopped short.

Their breath caught at the unexpected figure before them.

"Hero, it's me. I've come to save you."

The hero sobbed in relief.

Superhero.

The Beast (Part 3)

The henchmen dragged the hero out to the hall by their collar, snarling and snapping. They tried unsuccessfully to wrestle them onto a gurney, the hero's panic only matched by their raw fury. The villain watched on with a reverent fascination.

The hero glared with wild eyes as the villain calmly approached.

"Darling, you'd best behave." The villain reached to brush the hero's face. "I'd hate to muzzle such a gorgeous creature."

The hero growled in challenge.

"You want to be human again, don't you?"

An uncertain whine.

"Yes, that's right. I can help you if you stop fighting me."

This was a mistake. This was a huge mistake, the hero thought frantically. If the villain made them human, they would not let them go free.

Who else would help them, though? The Agency? Their understaffed, in-network hospital? They could be stuck like this the rest of their life. They had to trust that they would have a shot at escaping later.

The hero swallowed hard and laid back on the gurney.

"I thought so."

The henchmen exchanged glances and clamored to affix the straps. They pushed the gurney into a cold and sterile room. An exhaust fan whined in the corner. Surgical equipment laid out on a small table.

"Don't worry, darling, we're just running some tests today," the villain said, pulling out a small razor. They trimmed small patches of fur and grabbed a syringe.

The hero tried to pull away, but the straps were firm. They felt the telltale prick, and squeezed their eyes shut.

"Blood sample," the villain explained. They filled several vials.

The henchmen pulled up some kind of machine and stuck little wires all over the hero's arms and legs. The villain typed something into a laptop and the hero felt another prick.

"You'll tell me if you feel something, won't you, darling?"

A jolt shot through their arm. The hero yelped.

"Good. Very good."

Another prick. Jolt. The hero's eyes watered. This went on for a while.

"No discernible nerve damage," the villain said, very pleased. "Excellent response time."

They continued to poke and prod them for a while, looking at their teeth, shining a light in their eyes, feeling the pads of their palms.

"You're not claustrophobic, are you?"

The villain began wheeling them towards a narrow tube-shaped device. The hero began to struggle again.

The hero had been in vents and crawl spaces and tight corridors before. They'd encountered walls that closed in on them, been trapped in a sinking car, and once had to be cut out of a drainage pipe by a rescue team.

All these experiences did not do favors to their anxiety response. They began struggling despite themselves, the straps digging into their flesh.

There was a high beeping noise beside them. Their heartbeat was being monitored. When did that happen.

The villain stopped the gurney. "Sh, shhh-sh, hush now, you're safe."

The hero struggled, because no they certainly were not, half the times they were trapped in dangerous situations was thanks to the villain--

Another prick.

"Rest now," The villain said, petting them gently.

The hero awoke back in their kennel. They had no idea how much time had passed. They felt a pain in the back of their head.

Stitches.

What had villain done while they were out?

Part 4

I wrote this about two years ago, before I found tumblr. I think I used a writing prompt to start this, but I'm not quite sure. Hope you enjoy!

Content Warning: very mild kidnapping(?), hypnotism, threat of violence. No violence shown onscreen. _____________________________________________________________

Hero knew this was the place where Villain was hiding out. Even without the anonymous tip this morning, they probably could have figured it out by the atmosphere alone. A dark warehouse in the corner of the city, away from almost everything and with plenty of access to electricity but very little lighting. The darkness felt thick as it wrapped around the hero’s shoulders.

One foot after another, from one shadow to the next, Hero leapt and hid. After only a few minutes, they could hear the familiar voice of their adversary from down the hall. Creeping closer to catch the words, Hero put their ear to the door at the end of the hall.

The door creaked at the hero’s touch.

Making a little too much noise as they scurried away looking for a hiding spot, the hero ducked into the next room over.

They heard the door open the rest of the way and the sound of stiff shoes on concrete. “Hello, hello.” The villain chuckled at the lack of response. “I figured you’d show up eventually. Are you going to come out or stay in the shadows like a scared little kid?”

Hero gave no response, focused on quieting their breathing. All of this work to get caught by a creaky door?!

“Suit yourself,” Villain purred. “I’m sure I’ll see you soon enough.” The door creaked once more as Villain nudged it closer to closed.

Hero let out a little of their breath and brushed the hair out of their eyes. They pulled out the device, the reason they were here in the first place. If they could just get this little piece of metal on whatever Villain had been working on out here for the last few weeks, it would all be over. No more late-night stakeouts, dodging and secrets and almost dying every week. All over.

Hero smiled down at the solution to all their problems. Figuring it was safe enough, they poked their head back out the door to find a sliver of silvery light coming from the not-quite-closed door of the Villain's room.

This is it. Move fast, and it’ll all be over.

Hero whipped open the door, no longer caring about noise. It complained loudly and would have alerted Villain if they hadn’t already known Hero was coming. If they hadn’t already been sitting on a plush purple chair facing the door.

Villain smiled, the same way a hunter would smile as its prey stepped into their trap. Before Hero could even react, Villain raised their hand high and clicked a button on a remote.

Music poured out of the hulking machine behind the villain’s chair. A haunting song that was tragically beautiful with slow strings and dancing harmonies.

Hero raised their eyebrows mockingly. “All this time, you were building a radio?” They started to laugh, but it came out quieter than normal.

“Oh, my, no. This is much more than that. Just wait, it should start setting in soon.”

They took a step into the room, the music floating through the air like a spring breeze. “Is this your way of asking me to dance?” Hero gripped the device in their palm, concealing it as much as possible.

“Like I said, give it a minute.” Villain leaned back in their chair, draping their legs over the armrest. The whole time, their eyes were locked on the hero, waiting.

Hero reached for another retort, but nothing came. Their brain and their voice wouldn’t connect with each other. The music got louder, increasing in sound and beauty. They took another step toward the machine. Then another. Each one becoming harder to take, as if the muscles in their legs were relaxing, giving in to the calm of the music.

“Ah, there it is.” Villain said, now leaning forward in their chair. “It’s amazing what music can do, isn’t it?”

Hero took another step but slipped. They didn’t even feel when their shoulder crashed into the floor or hear when the device clattered out of their hands and slid far away. All they could hear was the music.

As it hit a crescendo, Villain rose from their seat and performed a mock-waltz around the hero’s collapsed body. Finally, they leaned down, whispering in Hero’s ear. “Thank you for coming, I didn’t have the opportunity to test it out on anyone properly.” The song shifted into a new key, bringing a new brighter sound.

Hero sighed and closed their eyes. A wave of warmth bloomed in their chest and their heart beat in time with the song. It was as if they were feeling peace for the very first time. With a faint smile growing across their face, they managed to breathe one word. “…Why?”

“Well, you know how this feels, but imagine what this song will do when I broadcast it through every speaker in the city. What will happen to people who hear it on the radio while they drive? The people at the hospital when they hear it through the intercoms? What do you think will happen then?”

Hero knew they should care about Villain just said, but now they just wanted Villain to stop talking so they could hear the rest of the song. “Okay...”

“Beautiful. You should smile more. Enjoy the rest of the song, it’ll probably be the last thing you hear.” Villain reached down and stroked Hero’s hair. “If you’re not dead by the time I get back, I’ll finish the job.”

"I thought this would be worse. A dungeon cell at minimum." The hero looked around, eyes wide. "I know this is a golden cage but...damn, it's nicer than my actual apartment."

"No rent, no thankless job, no noisy neighbours. Free food, and a new wardrobe." The supervillain shrugged, cape swishing. "Ask me for something and I'll see what I can do. I want you to be happy here, I genuinely do."

"Because it stops me trying to escape?"

Villain cocked an eyebrow--- and they had perfect, never needed to be plucked eyebrows--- their smirk crooked, showing a vague dimple in one cheek. "Oh you sweet, sweet thing," they cooed, twirling the knife a little too close to Hero's face, "Do you really think I would rather hurt you? You already have scars, darling. A few more won't break you." They gesture vaguely at their sister's prone body, her skin a sickly pale compared to her usual complexion. "But her? She's innocent. Naive. And, I believe you stated somewhere that she's your only family, correct?"

Hero held their tongue. They were always honest, an open book, even when they knew they shouldn't be. They couldn't help it. Trauma dumping was how they cope, it's what happens when no one listens to you at all. What's the point of being a hero when you're all alone at the top? "You gain nothing by hurting her, please---"

Villain chuckled. It was soft, husky. Hero knew if they weren't such an apathetic selfish asshole, they would be in love with their laugh. Would drown--- yes drown--- in their eyes, in their low voice. Perhaps in another lifetime. "I get to break you. That's what I gain."

"You know what fucking happens when you back someone who has nothing into a corner."

"What will you do, love? Give me a lecture? Monologue your past? Truth is, I will break you. If not now then soon, and when I do I'll prove that every hero is just like me," they leaned forward, forcing Hero's chin up with the tip of their knife. "Villains. No better. No worst. Another unfortunate fuck the world didn't give two shits about."

Hero wanted to lean forward, to bash their slightly crooked nose in. "So you want everyone to suffer for what a selected few did to you? That's it. That's your answer? Kill the innocent to hurt the few. I get it, the world hurt you---"

"You don't get it," Villain hissed, kicking a piece of debris. "Someone like you will never get it."

Bile rose in Hero's throat. They hated the pity act, the woe is me attitude. Hero had suffered too. They had family, a big circus of them. They had abandoned Hero when things got bad, left them on the side of the road half dead and bleeding. Their sister--- half sister--- was the only person who looked for them. She was the only one who reached out. Their only family. The only one they could rely on. "You're not the only one who's ever suffered. It doesn't excuse what you did, the lives you've---"

"All the lives I've ended?" They finished the sentence for them. "I'm hurt, little hero, you've spent years chasing me, when have I ever killed an innocent?" Never. But Hero couldn't take their eyes off their sister, her auburn hair spread out like a halo, her skin clammy and pale. If they didn't kill innocent's then what was this called? How could they justify it?

"Then let my sister go. Please. Please, I'm begging you."

"I like it when you beg. And, love, I never said I was going to kill her." Relief courses through their body, a second to soon. "I'm only going to hurt her. Death would be too quick, too easy. I want you to live with it, little hero. I want you to be constantly reminded of your failure."

"I hate you," Hero hissed, panic spiking through their veins. "I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. And when I get out of these, I'll rip you a part." They almost believed it themselves.