Supervillain wheeled them through the varnished wooden floors, and turned right, into an arch where doors should be. A long dining table that could easily seat twenty people dominated the beautiful room. A fire roared in a stone fireplace that took up the middle of the right wall, heating the room with the crackling of wood and coal, painting the air with hues of yellow and gold. Supervillain walked Hero up the length of the table and parked their wheelchair beside the head of the table. Hero noticed two doors that led off to a different room. Maybe a kitchen, Hero couldn’t be sure, and they didn’t really care either.

Supervillain walked around to face Hero. Hero stared up at him. They didn’t have the energy to glare, but somehow, they managed it just fine. Pity Supervillain couldn’t wither under that glare, pity Hero’s power was just power negation.

Wait…

The realisation must have flashed on their face because Supervillain’s expression broke into one of shrewd amusement, appraising Hero’s line of reasoning before he even knew what it was.

“Yes… I’m surprised you thought of that before you’ve had some food, Hero,” Supervillain said, extending his hand to cup Hero’s cheek. Hero lifted their hand with an effort and put it on Supervillain’s wrist and sucked at his magic thrumming below his skin. Supervillain smirked. Hero stared. “Do you want to stay like this all day, sweet Hero?”

Hero swallowed. Their tongue darted out of their mouth to wet their dry lips.

“Or would you rather I call in someone to demonstrate how this trick won’t work on me and my ability?” Hero stiffened under Supervillain’s hand as he raised his head and called a name that made Hero freeze in their seat.

The door to the left opened and trainee Hero stepped out. His hair was the same chocolate brown, his skin the same varnished bronze, but his eyes were a little glazed over. Hero lurched over the edge of the chair, but Supervillain righted them, so they were facing Supervillain and not able to see trainee Hero.

“Super—”

“Sorry to take you away from your duties, young Trainee Hero,” Supervillain said, his smile as sharp as Hero’s blades. He was delighted that Hero’s attention was fixed solely on him, feeding off it. It made Hero sick. “I just have a question to ask, do you know my guest here?”

Footsteps. Hero trembled, they realised belatedly, shivering like a chihuahua in the stupid fucking wheelchair. Brown eyes found Hero’s and Hero swallowed as they felt the familiar ghost of unfamiliarity roam their features, searching for a sliver of recognition.

Hero pulled harder at Supervillain’s abilities under his skin, wincing as they pulled too much and their body thrummed with unused energy, buzzing around their blood like a live electric wire.

“No,” Trainee Hero said blankly. “Should I know who they are?”

Before Supervillain could speak Hero leaned over the chair and grabbed at Trainee Hero’s uniform. “Your sister was a water hero, and you always wanted to be as good as she was.” Hero desperately asserted. They reached to Trainee Hero’s hand and tried to negate Supervillain’s ability from within Trainee. Trainee Hero’s eyes went wide, going between Supervillain and Hero wildly.

“My sister was a hero in a pointless war,” he said hotly, balling his fists at his sides. “She is a traitor and should he have treated as such.”

Hero’s eyes widened. “What? A traitor? She… she became a hero to protect you and your—”

“Alright, Hero. Enough,” Supervillain said as Trainee Hero became visibly agitated. “That’s all we need from you. Return to your duties.”

“Wait!” Hero cried and jerked forward, moving to get out of the chair when Supervillain pushed them back down.

“Wait! Supervillain has brainwashed you—” Hero screamed, struggling against Supervillain’s hands and trying their best to ignore the wild, satisfied smirk on his face. Why wasn’t he trying to stop Hero revealing his trickery? Why was he just smiling? “He’s manipulated your memories! Your sister was—”

Hero flinched at the sound of the door shutting. Their words died on their lips, choked from their tongue. They raised terrified and furious eyes to Supervillain’s icy blue who leaned away and dropped his hold of Hero altogether. Hero continued to tremble so violently that their teeth chattered.

“I told you Hero. Your ability cannot stop what I’ve done. It’s too late.”

Hero flinched when a fresh droplet of water fell onto their cheek but recoiled when Supervillain rubbed the tear away tenderly. His expression warm and kind, compassionate and sympathetic, as if he understood how hard this was for Hero. As if he had any idea how fucking disoriented Hero felt after they woke up in this new world.

“It’s okay, Hero. It will be a swift, but difficult adjustment period for you, but you’ll understand with time.” Hero didn’t bat his hand away. They didn’t have the energy. “Don’t worry. I’ll be here to squash all your rebellious ideas and attempts at undoing my… what did you call it?” He asked, his head tilted. His smile turned lopsided at the edges. “Brainwashing? Yes. That’s a good word for it from your perspective, I suppose.”

“You mean the true perspective?!” Hero demanded. This time they did slap Supervillain’s hand away, anger making their blood hot. “Before your generals and yes men filled your head with sawdust huh?!”

They didn’t want to be in the same room as him, never mind put up with his faux compassionate touch. Hero could endure a lot, but they refused to endure that. They refused to see Supervillain as anything more than a monster.

They hated that the memory of Supervillain talking so honestly and openly in Superhero’s office played on their mind at that moment. How logical and insufferably rational he was when he spoke…

But most of all, they hated the fact that they didn’t actually believe, deep down, that Supervillain was a bad person. They were just on different sides of a war. Hero thought they were right, right enough to fight against Supervillain and the other villains that were against them.

God, how long had they been fighting? How long did the war go on for? They couldn’t remember… isn’t that a ridiculous thing? They couldn’t remember the time before the war, who they were before… what they were like before they were a general and a soldier.

Supervillain straightened. He sighed and turned his back to Hero which was laughable if it wasn’t so pathetic. Supervillain really had the audacity to turn his back on Hero? As if they weren’t a threat?

Hero could only watch as Supervillain pulled a chair out from the table and turned back to Hero. “Do you need help to get out of the chair?”

Hero stared at him. “What?”

“You’re not eating for the first time in a year in a wheelchair, Hero. I may be an enemy in your eyes, but I’m not an animal.” Hero’s stare hardened into a glare. Supervillain sighed. “Fine. You can struggle to it yourself.”

Hero swallowed as Supervillain took the seat at the end of the table, to the left of the chair he pulled out for Hero. They glanced at the short distance between the wheelchair and the table. They could make it. They were fine, they were stubborn enough to make it. Hero planted their hands on the edges of the armrests and set their feet on the ground.

They could do this.

With strength they didn’t have, Hero stiffened their upper lip and pushed themselves into a shaky standing. Their arms shook and protested as Hero made themselves vertical, grunting with the effort as they took a short, risky step away from the chair. They gasped out every last of their oxygen as their foot landed solidly on the ground, gratefulness flooded their body once they remembered Supervillain had parked the brake on the wheelchair, so they didn’t go flying.

See, he wasn’t a bad man.

Hero wanted to kill that small voice in their head more than they wanted to kill Supervillain. It was his fault that they were in this condition in the first place! His fault that Hero couldn’t walk without a gargantuan effort.

Hero took another step in anger unbeknownst to themselves. But now they had another problem. They had to release their hold of the chair and transfer their weight to the front; grab hold of the chair at the table. Supervillain remained silent throughout Hero’s ordeal, but his eyes lingered as Hero struggled.

Hero grunted as they removed one hand from the wheelchair. Steadied themselves. Okay. They were fine. They could do this… they could do this…

They didn’t notice their legs going from under them the moment they lifted their other hand, until they were falling backwards, the ceiling stretching above them. They screwed their eyes shut for the impact.

They didn’t hit the floor. Two strong arms caught them before they could hit the wood and Hero’s eyes flew open in a confusing concoction of relief and rage. Supervillain’s icy blue eyes were more done than furious, but there was a frustration in them that Hero didn’t want to acknowledge.

“You really would let your pride injure you instead of letting me help?”

“Yes,” Hero hissed viciously at him. Supervillain scoffed and shifted his arms under Hero, one under their shoulders and the other under the back of their knees. “Let go of me!” Hero said indignantly as Supervillain straightened.

He walked Hero over to the table and deposited them unceremoniously in the chair they had pulled out before. Before Hero could give him a piece of their mind, their chair was roughly shoved into the table and Hero’s chest hit the wood of the table, drawing an oomph from their lips, winding them.

“You heroes and your ideals, hmm?” Supervillain mused, though there was nothing humorous in his words and his expression was a picture of a storm on a calm sea as he pulled out his own chair and settled gracefully into it. His icy eyes like glaciers seemed like they were trying to freeze Hero’s stubbornness in them, as if he could delve inside Hero like they were a robot with faulty wiring and fix them just like how he wanted them to be.

Hero gulped and fixed themselves in their seat, but the entire ordeal exhausted them, sapped them of their strength, their energy, their will to fight. Even the energy that buzzed from sucking at Supervillain’s and Trainee’s abilities fizzled out to nothing and left them drained.

Thankfully the doors behind Supervillain opened and two people wearing aprons walked in carrying two delicious smelling dishes. Hero’s eyes brightened at the smell; their stomach screamed at them to feast on the scent like it was a tangible thing.

It smelled… was that chicken? And roasted vegetables? Oh, it smelled absolutely divine. Hero didn’t notice that Trainee Hero served them, they just thanked them as they set the plate down.

Their bright eyes dimmed a little, crestfallen as they looked into a bowl – not a plate – of soup. Hero glanced at Supervillain to see his plate had real food on it. Chicken and vegetables. Hero frowned as they stared at their bowl again.

“Hero,” Supervillain said as Hero dropped their spoon. “Your body would reject solid food if you tried to eat it now. You need to start slow.”

“But…” Hero protested, their eyes getting bigger as they stared longingly at Supervillain’s plate. Supervillain softened. “Hero, we have the exact same meal. Yours is just blended so you can actually absorb some of the nutrients.”

Hero looked down at their bowl again. They felt tears pinprick their eyes at the caution and care Supervillain had prepared for Hero’s awakening. They hated it. They hated him.

If Hero wanted to eat chicken, they should be fucking let! After a year! A year of eating nothing!

Because of Supervillain!

“Hero,” Supervillain said, drawing Hero back into the present, back into their body. Hero pushed the bowl away which was a mistake because the smell went straight to their nose and into their gnawing stomach that threatened to eat itself if they didn’t eat anything in the next minute. “Hero, come on now. You don’t want to throw up bile. You haven’t eaten in—”

“A year.” Hero told him cutting into him with a glare. Supervillain slumped a little at their tone, but Hero couldn’t care less. “If you want me to eat so badly, why don’t you call your little dog Grieves in here and fucking make me?”

Supervillain had the audacity to bristle at Hero’s tone. Hero turned their mutinous glare to the bowl of soup in front of them. And the tears started anew.

Gods— fucking… they were getting so sick of fucking crying! They’d only been awake an hour?! Two at most and how many fucking times have they cried in that—

They froze as they felt a pair of strong arms wrap around them. Their brain stuttered and shut down and Hero couldn’t help themselves. They sobbed into the warm chest, fingers like claws in the shirt as their back jerked silently, violently with the weight of every shaking inhale and sharp exhale.

They weren’t this weak, broken thing.

Hero wasn’t weak. They were strong. They were strong, and Supervillain not only won the war – and made everyone Hero knew and loved to forget their existence – but he stole Hero’s strength and left them powerless in this fucking skinny, muscle-less body.

If Hero had their swords in front of them now, they knew they wouldn’t be able to wield them with any of their old dexterity or skill. Would it be like starting again? From scratch? Or riding a bike— Hero didn’t… they didn’t know. They knew they wouldn’t be able to spear or do any real damage to Supervillain, their enemy, who gently comforted Hero, stroking their back and hair as if Hero was a child.

“It will be a steep adjustment,” Supervillain told them after Hero settled down and stared blankly at Supervillain’s chest. They found comfort in the sound of his heartbeat, like Hero wasn’t completely alone, no matter how watery a defence that was. No matter how hard they had to fight the fact that this was all Supervillain’s fault. “But adjust you will, Hero. You’re strong. I know you will adapt quickly to this new world.”

Hero’s eyelids were heavy like shutters, so it took some time and effort to just blink. “And if I don’t?” They mumbled, void of any emotion.

“Then things would be very difficult for you, Hero.” Supervillain pulled back so his cold gaze could catch Hero’s dead one. “If you’re thinking of any petty rebellion, Hero, think again. If you would rather die than endure what I worked so hard to build, to show you, think again.”

Hero looked away. Supervillain grabbed their chin in his hand and forced them to look at him. “If you think you’d rather waste away than eat, you will be fed via a feeding tube for however long it takes to get you back to a healthy weight.”

“You can’t—”

“Oh, I can,” Supervillain promised darkly, his eyes glinted like light off steel. “And I will if you force my hand. I want this to be pleasant for us both, Hero. Please don’t make me go to such lengths to get my way, when we both know I’ll get it no matter what you do, hmm?”

Hero’s tongue seemed to dry up completely in their mouth. “Do you understand me, Hero?”

Hero swallowed. “Yes,” they croaked.

Supervillain smiled. “Good.”

He pulled away and went back to his seat, leaving Hero cold at his absence. Hero grabbed the bowl on the table and dragged it towards them again which took a gargantuan amount of energy and breath.

They picked up the spoon and brought it to their mouth. The divine smell made their glands salivate and they closed their eyes when flavour exploded like fireworks on their tongue. They couldn’t help the moan from escaping them; both from the pain in their gut that screamed for more, and the sheer relief of finally having something slide down their throat to their stomach.

“Good,” Supervillain said with a small smile. “Very good, Hero.”

But Hero didn’t seem to hear him as they brought a second spoon of tan coloured soup to their mouth. Somehow the second spoonful tasted better, and it warmed them from the inside out, as if they were lighting up a fire in an old furnace for the first chill of Winter. Something to warm their bones and their heart, clear the cobwebs out of their ribs.

Hero could only finish half of it before they were full. They stared at the bowl of soup, like if they stared at it long enough, the food would somehow magically transfer from the bowl to their stomach without them throwing it all back up.

Hero lifted their spoon again, determined to finish, when a hand grabbed Hero’s bowl and pulled it away. Hero’s head shot to the hand, grabbing at it, eyes frantic and heated. Supervillain dipped his head.

“You will get more food, Hero, but I think that’s all you can handle at the moment.”

“No!” Hero protested. “I can— I can have more. Please—” they needed to get stronger. They needed it more than they needed air to breathe, or eyes to see. They needed to decide something in their life!

Supervillain pulled the bowl away, and as if on cue the two doors opened, and the waiters came out again. Hero couldn’t do anything except white-knuckle grip their spoon, glaring at the table in front of them.

“Hero,” Supervillain said. For a single, heart wrenching moment, Hero thought about jamming the spoon through their eye. They could do it. They… they could get enough force behind it surely, and then… then they wouldn’t have to suffer this humiliation anymore. They wouldn’t have to live in this world where they were a stranger to everyone they knew and loved. Their mind flashed an image of Vigilante on their eyes and Hero softened. That’s an image they could die to.

Hero jammed their hand up toward their face but was stopped in mid-air, eyes watering as the metal of the spoon was so close to their eye. Their hand shook as they tried to fight against whatever was keeping their arm suspended.

“No!” They cried, grabbing their other hand to try and put some more power behind it. “No! No!”

A hand yanked the spoon from Hero’s grip. The force holding their hand at bay released and Hero punched themselves in the face. Hard enough that their head smacked back against the chair and Hero went cold as they realised that that would have done it. That level of force would have killed them.

“Seems I missed an interesting morning,” a cold voice purred that set all of Hero’s hairs standing on edge. Of course it was Villain. Of course it was. “Hello again, Hero.”

Hero trembled in their chair, their body thrumming with an anxious energy they couldn’t dispel.

“Ah, Villain. Just in time, as usual,” Supervillain said. There was something curt about his tone, like stress or worry. So even he thought Hero was going to die…

What a cruel twist of fate.

“I wouldn’t give them anymore utensils, Supervillain.”

Hero wanted to look. They wanted to turn their head and look so badly at Villain; to see if, like Grieves, Villain would parade Vigilante around as a warning to Hero that they have nobody they could rely on.

“I didn’t think…” Supervillain trailed off. Then footsteps approached and Hero’s chair was yanked back suddenly, turned to face a furious Supervillain. “Why would you do something like that?!” He demanded. “Hero… you cannot… you are not allowed to die; do you understand me?”

Hero didn’t look at him. Instead, they let their eyes drift to Villain who stood smugly at the arch, arms crossed over his chest and leaning against the wall, his black-eyed gaze focused on Hero.

“Hero!” Supervillain snapped. His fingers gripped Hero’s chin and forced their gaze to meet Supervillain’s. A look of concern twisted his features, and he looked strange. Hero stared back at him blankly. “I will keep you restrained if you act this way. Is that what you’d prefer? Hmm? To be treated like a child?!”

Hero let out a helpless scoff that sounded suspiciously like a sob. They grabbed Supervillain’s wrist and yanked it off of them.

“What do you know about what I’m going through! Nobody remembers me! Nobody except you and your band of fucking villains that terrorised me a year ago, that were enemies on the front lines. People I killed,” Hero said, their voice breaking on the word killed. They remembered every life they took. Every single one. “And you won’t even let me forget like you did to all the other heroes. You have given me no mercy,” Hero seethed. “So sorry if I’m feeling a little fucking helpless right now! You have no idea what it’s like! To wake up in a world that looks so similar to the one I left, but have everything look strange, different! You don’t fucking know what that is like! Of course, suicide is my go-to solution!”

For a long moment, silence engulfed the trio, and only Hero’s heavy breathing and the crackling of flames punctured the thick blanket of tension that smothered them.

Supervillain’s icy eyes searched Hero’s face for something, before one side of his mouth curled up into a smirk. “I didn’t give all heroes the mercy of forgetting, Hero.”

Hero stared at him. Their mouth suddenly dry. “What?” they whispered.

Supervillain chuckled darkly. “It wouldn’t be enough to let the heroes get off, as you said, for murdering my people during the war.”

Hero’s heart thundered in their ears, deafening. A solid BOOM, BOOM, BOOM. Other Heroes remembered? Would they remember Hero? Superhero? Would Hero be able to gather them and actually stage an uprising against Supervillain one day? For the first time since Hero woke up, hope bloomed like a rotten flower in the dark cavity of their chest. No sunlight, no water, no oxygen, and somehow the plant bloomed against its nature.

Supervillain straightened to his full height, towering over Hero again. Hero swallowed, suddenly remembering how weak they were, how weak their body was, how they wouldn’t be able to defend themselves if Supervillain decided to attack right now.

“I was going to wait and let you settle in, maybe build up some strength and get accustomed to your new life, your new world before we took a little road trip, but it seems you’re just itching to get as much information as soon as you can. And I wouldn’t want you to feel completely alone, Hero.”

Hero frowned. Something was so wrong about this picture. Supervillain would willingly bring Hero to a group of their past allies and let them speak? Hero looked at Supervillain.

“Do they–”

“Oh, they remember you, Hero,” Supervillain told them with a vicious grin. Hero’s heart thundered in their ears BOOM, BOOM, BOOM. Hero didn’t care about all the warning signs that screamed at them that this was a trick, something Supervillain would let them hope for, a beacon of light in the darkness, only to be snuffed out when Hero finally reached it. But they couldn’t help the rot flower of hope that wrapped its thorns around Hero’s throat and sucked all the moisture from their mouth. “Would you like to go and see them?”

Hero could only nod. Supervillain’s expression sharpened.

“Excellent.”

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

Fun challenge for you if you like this story — whoever can guess what Supervillain’s done with the other heroes, I will dedicate the next part to you (however many guess it doesn’t matter hehehe, GOD I LOVE THIS FUCKING FIC)

Hero got out on their floor and walked down the empty halls towards their cubicle. Something unnerving about being in the building when it was this empty. It prickled at Hero’s senses, setting them on edge.

They heard voices coming from the meeting room. Hero stepped down the hallway and froze when they saw a familiar blond haired man standing in front of the heroes, giving a speech, a talk with a smile and nobody in the room was moving to attack or call for back up.

What… Hero blinked. But nope, Supervillain was still there! Still standing in front of Superhero and Other Hero and Strongest Hero… what the fuck was going on?

Hero ducked so nobody would see them and snuck down the hall. Thankfully they were in Board Room 1, which wasn’t soundproofed. When Hero got close enough they could hear Supervillain speaking.

“And I just want to say what a beautiful arrest on Other Villain yesterday everybody. Great work. You all deserve a clap. Just well done.”

“Well, Hero did most of the work,” Superhero fawned and were they— was Superhero blushing at Supervillain’s praise?!

“Hero huh?” Supervillain mused, tasting Hero’s name on their tongue. It sent shivers down Hero’s spine.

“Hero is a promising young Hero, Supervillain,” Strongest Hero said, and Hero would have blushed if Strongest Hero said that under different circumstances than this bizarre scenario that was playing out in front of them. “Maybe a little reckless, but definitely an asset to consider.”

Supervillain hummed. “Perhaps we should recruit them then into our ranks.”

“That would be a wonderful idea,” Superhero beamed. “They are a little too curious for their own good. Which is exactly why I kept them at home today.”

“How interesting…” Supervillain said, turning to face Hero’s hiding spot. Hero knew they wouldn’t be seen from here. No way, but it felt like Supervillain was staring straight at them.

A hand grabbed Hero by the scruff of their neck and dragged them to their feet. Hero whirled, slamming a hand out that got caught and twisted up their back. Hero cried out, throwing their head back and hitting their attacker in the nose. Once the grip loosened they turned, backing up away from—

“Sidekick?” Hero asked with a breath.

“This is Hero I presume,” Supervillain purred. Hero swallowed hard, backing up further into office, keeping all the heroes and more importantly Supervillain in their line of sight.

“What’s going on?” Hero demanded, their voice coming out stronger than they felt.

It was Superhero who answered, a little frustrated. “Hero, I told you to rest today.”

“Why are— why are you taking orders from Supervillain?” Hero asked, eyes widening as they walked into a desk and pivoted without dropping their gaze. Hero looked at their Sidekick, their heart breaking at the purple haze colouring their eyes; colouring all the heroes eyes the same purple as Supervillain…

Hero glared at Supervillain. “What did you do to them?!” They demanded, thankful that the office was an open circle. Though the heroes and Supervillain blocked their way to the lift in front, Hero could still run into the hallway and go for the lift that way and pray.

Their mouth was as dry as a desert.

“They’re not in pain, Hero,” Supervillain said diplomatically. “They’re happy. They still have their own thoughts—”

Hero stared. “You… you’re controlling them? Controlling the heroes? Why?”

Supervillain sighed. “Why?!” Hero pressed. It didn’t make sense. “Why would you have them order raids against villains… other villain?”

A muscle in Supervillain’s jaw feathered at the mention of Other Villain. “Well, if you must know Hero, Other Villain wasn’t willing to fall into line. I run this city. I have rules, and they decided to break those rules. So I had my hero friends arrest them. Which I hear is all thanks to you.”

Hero’s frown deepened.

“Hero,” Superhero said softly and it broke something in them. They were Superhero… they were still Superhero but… but not. Wrong. A pale imitation.

How hadn’t Hero seen it before? Noticed it.

“You’re not in a position to fight all of us,” Superhero said in that same soothing soft way of theirs. “Just come sit with us. Have some tea. We can talk this over.”

Hero shot a glare at Supervillain. “Is that how you do it? Do you spike their tea?”

Supervillain chuckled. “No, no. Hero, think of it more like a colony of ants. Or bees. And I am the Queen Bee, and all my worker bees listen to my commands so the hive can thrive.”

Hero stared and stared and stared. They stiffened their upper lip as they came to the hallway that would bring them to the lift. They met Superhero’s gaze, then Sidekick’s who was closing in. “I will save you from this.”

“Save them from—” but Hero took off before they could hear the rest of Supervillain’s poisoned words. They heard a sigh behind them. Then a tired, almost bored: “get them.”

Hero sprinted towards the lift, pumping their unbroken arm and legs, adrenaline pounding through their veins and spurring them on faster. They got to the lift and slammed a hand on the button before someone grabbed them by their arm splint and yanked them back.

Hero cried out as they fell back tumbling. A fire sparked in their arm as they roll back. Another hand was on them as Hero threw a fist out blindly, but a hand was in their hair and dragging them back as Hero struggled and screamed.

“Stop fighting, Hero. Supervillain just wants to improve the city,” Superhero cooed beside them as one of Hero’s colleagues dragged them back. Back towards Supervillain. Hero panicked, reaching for their power. They felt it surge within them, a light that got bright, bright, brighter and then—

Flung their hand behind them at the hero dragging them when they felt warm power dampeners snap onto their wrist. The light sputtered.

“No! NO!” Hero choked out as Superhero snapped on the second power dampener on the same wrist. “Superhero, please! Please! If you’re still in there, don’t let Supervillain do this please!”

“They can’t disobey, Hero,” Supervillain said blandly. “And either will you once I get my hands on you.”

“Superhero, please! PLEASE!” Hero begged as they were dragged into the centre of the hub. The lift dinged as if to mock Hero’s almost escape. Impossible escape.

Hero felt tears bubble and flow freely from their eyes. They didn’t want to be a zombie. They didn’t want to obey Supervillain. But looking at all those familiar faces, Other Hero, Superhero, Sidekick… hope turned to ash in their gut.

“It will be fine once you submit, Hero,” Superhero said, wiping away Hero’s tears with their thumb.

“Submit my ass.”

The entire room froze. Hero knew that voice. Before they could look to see who it was Supervillain let out an enraged shout and then there was an ear-shattering thrum of noise that shattered the glass dividers on the entire floor. The person holding Hero dropped them and someone was shouting but Hero couldn’t hear anything over the ringing in their ears.

Then black eyes were on them.

Black, not purple.

Hero blinked.

Villain. What was Villain—

But before Hero could finish the thought they were yanked up to their feet and then over Villain’s shoulder as they ran for the lift. The doors stayed open and Villain smashed the close doors button. Hero glanced up to see Supervillain running for the lift, his face the picture of fury as the glass doors slid shut and the lift started going down to the ground floor.

Villain set Hero down, an apologetic smile on their lips. Hero’s legs would have went from under them if they weren’t leaning against the wall. They could feel the vibrations of the lift as they went down, down, down. Away from Supervillain and his pack of yes-men zombies.

Villain clicked his fingers at Hero’s ears a couple times before Hero could focus on the sound. They raised their good hand and nodded. “I can hear you,” they said, but everything sounded underwater still. Even their own voice.

“Is your arm okay?” Villain asked, murky, but Hero could just about make the words out.

“Yeah… yeah… I mean, one of them grabbed me and I went down, but that was before you, so…”

Villain nodded. “Right. So you know Supervillain’s—”

“Controlling all of the strongest heroes in the city?” Hero snapped. “Yeah. Yeah I do.”

A moment passed between them. Then Villain said, “I’ve been trying to stop them, but they got to Superhero first, Hero. I— then he made me a villain to make me seem untrustworthy but I am trying to save this city.”

Hero blinked. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

Villain barked out a laugh, running his hands through his hair. “Would you have believed me if I had?”

Hero went silent. No. They wouldn’t have believed them. Not for a second. But that— Hero’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Did you follow me?” Villain’s cheeks went pink. Hero’s eyes widened.

“Yes, okay? Yes! I was going to tell you on your day off, but then you came here so… I decided to tail you. It took me a while to get in, but I knew Supervillain would be here today so I—”

Hero shoved Villain against the wall, good hand curling into Villain’s shirt. “So you let me get caught?! Let them attack me!”

“I needed someone to believe me, Hero!” Villain’s snapped, desperation colouring his features. “If you didn’t see it for yourself you would have told me I was crazy and I— I can’t stop them by myself!”

Hero stared and stared and stared.

But Villain was right. If Hero never saw them… their purple hazed over eyes they would have never believed Villain.

They let go of him and stepped back, running a hand down their face. “Fuck… what a mess.”

She bolted from the bed, backing up until she hit the wall behind her, before she properly opened her eyes. Her chest heaving with heavy breaths as she glared at the man in her bed.

Flynn peered at her with one eye open, casually throwing an arm under his head to prop himself up. “Mornin’,” he said, his voice low from sleep.

“You fucker,” Morgan hissed, her mind flashing back to last night when Supervillain fixed her nose. Flynn had settled her mind for her, leaving her in his artificial weightless-haze. “You said you wouldn’t use your powers on me.”

Flynn shrugged. “I didn’t want you to suffer.”

“No, you didn’t want to see me suffer, and there’s a chasm of a difference between them,” Morgan huffed, crossing her arms over the shirt she was wearing. “Then sleeping with me?”

“You never complained before,” Flynn said with a lazy, cocky grin.

“That was before I knew you were a fucking scheming bastard, who,” Morgan continued, walking towards her door and opening it. “Coincidentally, has his own room in this hell house. So please, get out.”

Flynn stared at her through half-lidded eyes, two hands behind his head now. Morgan hated when he did that. She hated how it exposed his muscles and somehow made him hotter. He knew it too. He knew that she liked it when he reclined like that, because she told him once after a long night.

“I’m comfortable.”

“You’re a liar.”

“I’m a comfortable liar.”

“I hate you,” Morgan snapped. The cocky smile dimmed on his face, and she took a little bit of satisfaction at it. Ignoring how it pulled a little on her heartstrings too.

“I know,” he replied softly.

Morgan swallowed, lingering by the door, arms folded across her chest. “Were you here all night?”

“Yes,” he said with a sigh, running a hand through his hair as he sat up.

“Why?”

“Because you said you didn’t want to be alone,” he answered honestly.

Morgan scoffed. “No doubt from your loopy induced haze in my head.”

“Despite what you may like to believe,” Flynn said, getting to his feet and stretching. Morgan noted he was still fully dressed in the shirt and tracksuit he was wearing last night. Decent and gentlemanly. Infuriatingly. “I can’t sway your ideas in your head. If you want me to, I can find a telepath for you to put all your blame on.”

“Oh yeah? And will you kidnap them too?” She snapped, eyes blazing.

Flynn scoffed. He grabbed his socks and shoes before walking towards Morgan by the door. Morgan’s heart beat double-time the closer Flynn got to her, but she maintained her resolve.

That was, until Flynn stopped in the doorway beside her. She shifted her feet under his gaze, feeling his eyes travel over every pore, lingering on every feature, tracing a line down the curve of her neck.

Her breath hitched when he reached forward, a hand cupping her cheek, the heel of his palm tilted her head up. So gentle. Filled with too much everything— Flynn knew her better than anyone, knew what made her tick, what made her nervous, her fears. His touch lit a fire under her skin, but his eyes laid her naked before him, and sent shivers down her spine.

“We could make this so nice,” he whispered like the snake tempting eve in the garden, his thumb running over her bottom lip. “We could go back to the way things were. We were happy.”

How Morgan ached for that to be true. How she wanted to abandon her defences, to forget the heartache at his betrayal, and run into his awaiting arms. He could make her forget everything, what he did to Sidekick, what he was doing to her. Hell, he could make her forget that she was ever a Hero, and it would be so easy.

Her eyes burned with unshed tears as she swallowed a sob and covered his hand with hers. “That was before you betrayed me, and everything I thought you were.”

“Morgan…”

“How can I believe anything you say? How do I know that you weren’t seducing me as some plan you concocted with your father?” She asked, breathlessly. He dropped his shoes and socks with a clatter to the floor and stepped closer to her, caging her in against the wall beside the door.

His eyes implored her to trust him, to love him, to believe him. She couldn’t look at the desire in them, so she looked at his lips instead. His soft lips.

“You know what we had was real,” he murmured, his hot breath fanning her face. “Believe in us. Believe in what your heart knows to be true. I love you, Morgan.”

Morgan’s bottom lip trembled against his touch. She swallowed and turned her head away, pressing her hand against his chest with more restraint than she thought herself capable of.

“Please, Flynn,” she said, her voice soft like the static in the air before a thunderstorm. “Just leave me alone.”

Flynn paused, his touch faltering and for a second she thought he was going to kiss her anyways. Something heartbroken inside her that still loved him told her that he would never do something like that. That there were lines of decency even a traitor wouldn’t cross.

“Fine,” he said, dropping his hand from her face and stepping back, his warmth left a coldness as he scooped up his discarded shoes and socks. Morgan did the right thing. She knows she did the right thing, so why does it feel like something just tore a hole through her chest? “Look, I know we were friends once, maybe more than that, maybe not, but right now Morgan? I’m your only friend here. Your only refuge.”

Morgan felt as if she had just been slapped. “Is that a threat? Be nice to me or else?”

Flynn had the audacity to look hurt. “No, that’s not—”

“Goodbye, Flynn,” she ground out through clenched teeth, stepping away from the door and grabbing it in her hand, ready to slam it in his face.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “See you later.”

The moment he stepped out of door frame she closed the door and leaned her back against it, sliding down and hugging her knees to her chest. She let the tears fall when she was alone, unaware that on the other side of the door, Flynn was listening to her, a pained expression pulling at his features.

*~*~*~*~*

Hours later a knock sounded on her door. Morgan ignored it. She watched the door handle open from her bed, her back propped against the headboard, legs stretched out, crossed over at the ankles a book with its spine broken between her fingers. She inclined her head when the door opened, expecting it to be Flynn but froze when she saw a mess of black hair.

Villain wore his stupid red leather jacket, contrasting against his sharp pale features and dark hair, making him seem other worldly. He smirked when he noticed Morgan’s tension, he kicked the door open with his foot, crossing his arms and leaning against the door frame.

“I’ve been told to call you for dinner.”

“Like the good dog you are.”

“Woof,” Villain replied, a grin that made her skin crawl spreading across his features. “Of course, you hurt Flynn’s feelings so he’s licking his wounds in his room. You get me instead. The better brother.”

“Yeah, well, I lost my appetite looking at your face.”

Shadow hands sprung from the backboard of the bed and grabbed Morgan’s wrists before she realised what was happening. They squeezed, hard, until she dropped the book, shackling her in a ring of icy coldness. They yanked her arms back sharply and pressed them against the headboard. Morgan didn’t even struggle and suppressed her whimpers of pain, but it must have shown on her face because Villain’s grin got wider as he stepped into her room.

“I would be nicer to me, Morgan.” Villain cautioned, his fingers curling slowly into a fist in his hand, the shadows tightening more until Morgan couldn’t keep her cries locked behind her teeth anymore. “We could be friends, like you and Flynn, hmm?”

“Friends don’t hurt each other,” Morgan ground out, pulling against the shadows keeping her pinned. With all the force she put behind it, it only resulted in her muscles trembling from the effort.

“Well, we’re not friends yet. And besides, it’s not hurting each other. I’m just hurting you.”

Morgan looked away from Villain, staring pointedly at the wall to her right just to piss him off. Who did he think he was? Another cold hand stroked a finger along her jaw. Morgan shivered at the touch, but refused to look at Villain. That’s when she heard footsteps round her bed until she was staring at worn, red leather in front of her.

“It doesn’t have to be like this,” Villain said, crouching down so he was eye-level with the stubborn Morgan. Isn’t that what Flynn said too? He tilted his head with a smile. “Hmm? You’re stuck here, y’know. Unless you grow a spine and want to kill your friend, in which case, well, you’d belong here.”

“Let me go,” Morgan snapped, pulling against the shadows. Villain let out a dark, breathy laugh, standing again as he shook his head. His hand shot out, as cold as his shadows and pinched her chin between his fingers tilting her head up sharply.

“The sooner you learn your place here the better, I mean,” Villain said, sucking in a breath as if it hurt. “Upsetting Flynn? The only person here on your side? Not a smart move, not one I would make. Or Supervillain if he were in your shoes. I mean, aren’t you supposed to be smart? Isn’t that your whole thing? Cause god knows you’re not strong.”

Morgan’s lips curled back into a snarl and she shot her leg out. Shadows caught her ankle before it made contact and yanked her down the bed, but the hold on her wrists didn’t budge and so her body was stretched taut, pulled in two directions.

Villain released his grip on her chin when his shadows caught her foot and now he just stood back as she cried out and tried to gain purchase on the bed with her other leg for support.

“You know, it’s not nice to kick people.”

“Get off of me!”

“I’m not on you, Morgan. Why? Do you want me to be?” Morgan’s breath caught in her throat at the very thinly layered threat in Villain’s voice, and the sick fuck seemed to feed off her panic. “Relax hero, I’m not that kind of Villain. I won’t touch you until you beg for it.”

His words sent shivers down her spine. When the shadow on her ankle dissolved Morgan quickly pulled it into her chest, retreating up her bed back to where her hands were pinned, not taking her eyes off him for a second.

Villain hummed, then turned and walked towards the door. He lifted his hand and clicked his fingers without looking at her. The shadows dissipated, leaving her wrists red raw but otherwise unharmed. “Come along, Morgan. Like I said. Dinner’s ready.”

On the way downstairs, Villain rapped on Flynn’s door and yelled: “grubs up.” Morgan didn’t take her glare off of Villain’s back the whole way down her U-shaped stairs to the second floor. It wouldn’t matter either way considering all the shadows he could utilise to torture her, and there was no way she could keep eyes everywhere.

Though when Flynn’s door opened, she paused on the last step of her stairs, watching him as he walked out of his room and shut the door. He didn’t look at her as he followed Villain down the stairs. He may as well have slapped her in the face. Actually, she’d rather he would have slapped her, or looked at her, or even paused when he saw her in the corner of his eye. But he continued through the landing and to the stairs like she wasn’t even there, and Morgan swore her heart broke inside her chest all over again.

She followed the brothers down to the dining room in silence. Flynn and Villain were already sitting down at Supervillain’s side of the table, both on either side of where Supervillain sat. Morgan stared at the chair beside Flynn, something urging her to sit beside him, but instead she sat at other opposite head of the table. Yanking her chair out and sitting down.

Why should she be the one who’s suffering or feeling guilty? Flynn should be the one feeling guilty. It was his fault she was here. His fault that she was on Supervillain’s radar in the first place. His fault that Sidekick is in the hospital.

Villain’s cunning eyes went between the pair. “Trouble in paradise, lovebirds?”

“Oh shut up, Vil,” Flynn snapped.

Morgan leaned forward, clasping her hands in front of her as if she was about to conduct a meeting. She smiled sweetly at Villain, sickeningly sweet. “Yes. No trouble at all, Vil. I wouldn’t touch a villain with a ten foot pole if I could help it, but considering I’m on house arrest with a family of villains, I’ve had to make some concessions.”

Flynn shot her a scathing look, his cocky smirk sliding onto his face. “That’s not what you said when you were cuddling me this morning.”

Villain’s entire face lit up, eyes going between the pair, enjoying the two of them silently fuming at each other. “Damn. You could cut the tension with a knife. Get a room, guys.”

Supervillain stepped through the doors that joined the kitchen to the dining room with two steaming plates. “Dinner’s ready!” He exclaimed happily. Noticing the atmosphere, he raised his brows. “What’s wrong?”

“A lover’s tiff,” Villain answered at the same time that Morgan and Flynn bit out: “nothing.”

Supervillain hummed, walking down to Morgan and sliding a plate in front of her. It smelled divine, like last time, and Morgan’s stomach grumbled at the sight. Two steaks of salmon and green beans and cauliflower. “For your strength,” Supervillain beamed at her, then walked to Villain and served him next.

He disappeared through the doors again. Villain smiled at Flynn. “I got mine first. I’m the favourite.”

“You wish,” Flynn said, folding his arms across his chest. “He serves me last because hr wants to make sure my dinner is still hot.”

Supervillain appeared again and sat at the table beside Flynn, handing him his plate too. “Ah. Bon Appétit.”

They ate in relative silence, Villain or Flynn would say something and they’d start a conversation that would ebb and flow while Morgan ate quietly, trying her best not to scoff the whole plate down in seconds, but she didn’t have breakfast or lunch today, so she was starving.

“How’s the nose, Morgan?” Supervillain asked.

“It’s fine,” Morgan replied coldly, then stiffened, thinking better of disrespecting him and added a quiet, “thank you.”

“Good. Glad to hear it. I actually got you some papers today.”

Morgan raised her brows. “Oh.”

“To keep you up on the news,” Supervillain told her, his smile reminiscent of his son’s, though maybe a bit more civil, but no less shark-like and menacing. “Don’t want you completely disconnected from the world.”

Morgan pushed at the remains of her dinner with her fork, tightening her grip on the utensil. “You just want to torture me as much as possible, is that it?”

“Torture you? What would be the point? I have you immobilised and incapacitated. I don’t need to torture you any further. I just thought you’d like to know—”

“How the world’s doing outside my fucking prison?” She demanded, raising her gaze to meet Supervillain’s. Supervillain’s smile remained on his face and she wanted nothing more than to climb over the table and slap it off. “No thanks.”

“Things can be pleasant for you here, Morgan.”

“Thanks, but no thanks.”

Supervillain tilted his head to the side, steepled his fingers in front of his face. “You didn’t let me finish, Morgan. Things can be pleasant for you here, Morgan, or—”

Morgan felt the cold hands of Villain’s power grab her wrists again and yank them behind the back of her chair, her fork clattering along the floor of the dining room. “We can make it very, very difficult for you if you’d prefer. Which would you rather, now that you’ve tasted the cell and the room?”

“I’d rather you let me go, you fucking dick!” She hissed, trying to yank her hands free, but each time she got an inch her hands were clamped down tighter, almost dragging her over the chair, but she planted her feet on the ground, resolute, and glared at the man. “Stop threatening my friends and give yourself up to the proper authorities while you’re at it! That’s what I’d prefer over this playing house bullshit!”

“Morgan,” Flynn cautioned. Morgan scoffed. She would have threw her arms up if she could, bordering on hysterical.

“Now you deign to talk to me?” She cried. “Save it!”

She turned her gaze, crueller now, back to Supervillain, adopting a false sense of innocence. “I mean, this isn’t really a proper family, is it? Where’s the mother figure after all?”

Morgan only got the briefest of seconds to enjoy Supervillain’s easy, smiling expression dipping, turning to cold fury before a shadowed hand grabbed her throat, followed by Villain who grabbed her where the shadow hand did, and slammed her back against the wall.

“You fucking bitch,” he seethed. “You really don’t know when to shut up, do you?”

Morgan spit at him in reply, cracking a smile despite her face that was steadily changing from red to purple at her oxygen being cut off. It wasn’t a proper glob, more like a spray of saliva, even her fucking spit was limp at her circumstances.

“Villain,” Supervillain said as Morgan gasped on air that she wasn’t getting. Morgan could barely hear him when he spoke again, her eyes rolling to the back of her head as she clung desperately to air. She fell to the ground deadweight, head smacking off the floor but she barely noticed it as she gasped in oxygen like a fish being thrown back into a river.

Her throat screamed at the abuse, screamed at her to stop fucking tempting fate and cruelty of the family of villains but she couldn’t bring herself to care if they killed her or not. It would be preferable, honestly.

But then who would help Sidekick? Her stupid, logical voice chimed in as she pushed herself up by her hands. A pair of tailored trousers met her gaze as she righted herself. She began to tilt her head up, her mind cloudy when she felt a hand lock around her upper arm and drag her to her feet.

She stumbled up, her leg faltering behind and falling again but the grip didn’t loosen and the legs didn’t slow down and Morgan was forced to make her legs work after depriving them of oxygen for the last twenty seconds.

“Dad.” Flynn’s voice. “Dad!”

“Enough, Flynn.” They were in the kitchen Morgan realised, the wood of the dining room floor replaced with the black tiles. Supervillain was holding her, dragging her to the far side of the kitchen and she had the sense to start digging her heels in when they reached a door she wasn’t familiar with. “We tried it your way, Flynn. Now, we’ll try it Villain’s way and compare notes.”

“Dad, no. Wait!” Flynn cried. Morgan turned her head over her shoulder to see Villain’s sharp grin, arms around Flynn to stop him from following Morgan and Supervillain wherever they were going. “Dad!”

“Ladies first,” Supervillain said after he opened the door and with a pause, he pressed his hand to Morgan’s back and shoved her down the stairs.

*~*~*~*~*

“I—” Morgan said but the words were whisked away with the hitch in her breath. She couldn’t go into the trunk. Morgan reached pathetically for her power as Flynn advanced, but it was silenced by the power dampeners and Morgan cursed. Her eyes never leaving the car’s boot that Villain stood at, grinning all the while over at her. Did he know? Did Flynn tell him that she was…?

She didn’t notice Flynn getting closer until it was too late. Flynn wrapped a hand around Morgan’s ankle and yanked her forward. Morgan yelped, screaming for “someone! Someone help me! So—”

“Flynn shut her up!” Villain yelled, as Flynn grabbed each side of Morgan’s head and locked his gaze on Morgan’s panicked eyes. Morgan felt her body go numb with Flynn’s gaze alone.

“Flynn, don’t, don’t – please,” she whimpered, pawing uselessly at Flynn’s chest as his eyes seemed to swirl, locking her in place.

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

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

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

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

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

He should have made her forget before she saw the car, but it was too late now anyhow. Villain climbed into the passenger seat and closed the door. Flynn put the car into drive and pulled out onto the road, as nonchalant as ever.

***

The next thing Morgan knew she was in a cell on a bed, the cuffs still firmly locked around her wrists. She didn’t remember how she got there, or where she was, something she could no doubt credit to Flynn. Though she felt the salt trail of tears hardened around the corner of her eyes and down her cheeks.

So much for not using his power on me.

She was thankful Flynn left her with her scabbard at least, straps still wrapped tight around her chest, a reassuring weight on her back. She could grab her daggers anytime.

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

The sound of a door opening nearby made Morgan raise her head to look at the cell bars, waiting for whoever it was to come gloat. Somewhere, in the dark side of her mind, a sad, quiet voice wanted nothing more than to see Flynn’s stupid face on the other side of the bars. His stupid crimson red hair that was always precariously sticking up and perfectly windswept.

Instead, Villain appeared. Morgan struggled to keep her face neutral. She didn’t want to show him what impact he left on her. Villain and his stupid fucking shadows. Morgan fixed Villain with a bored stare, resting her head back against the cold wall.

“Miss me?” Morgan asked, wanting to celebrate that her voice didn’t betray her. Unlike Flynn.

Villain just stared, cocking a brow at her. Her eyes darted down to Villain’s hands, a trick of the light catching her attention. She frowned, about to raise her gaze again when she saw them. Shadows slipped in flowing rivers from his palms and under his clothes, slowly, dreadfully slowly, dripping, slithering along the ground and through the bars of the cell. Morgan’s heart hammered against her chest, but she forced herself not to move. Not to react. That’s what Villain wanted, for her to scream and cry.

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

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

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

Morgan’s heart panged, and she hated herself for it. She shouldn’t be sad. she should be angry. Pissed off, but her stupid little heart ached at the mention of Flynn, and she couldn’t wrestle the feeling away.

“What was it like?” Villain asked, leaning his hands through the bars and clasping his fingers together. His eyes shining with malice as he continued, shadows inching closer and closer, “realising your best friend and greatest ally was all lies. Did it hurt? I bet it hurt.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Villain didn’t answer. Instead, he drew his arm back sharply and the shadows yanked Morgan down the bed. Morgan kicked and fought, but she was struggling in vain against air and shadows. They weren’t a tangible thing. With her hands locked uselessly in front of her dulling her powers Morgan could do nothing as the shadows kept dragging her towards the bars where Villain stood.

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

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

Villain cut Morgan off by squeezing his hand around her throat. Morgan pulled back, her brain screamed at her to flee, but it was as if a wall was behind her squishing her towards the bars, to Villain’s hand and his unyielding grip. Morgan couldn’t even use her hands to free herself because they were squished between her rib cage and the iron bars of the cell.

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

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

A shadowed hand gripped the back of Morgan’s head and slammed her nose into the bars in front of her. Morgan gripped the bars on instinct when a loud resounding crunch echoed through Morgan’s head, and she cried out. Warm blood started flowing down her nose and lips, dripping passed her chin and onto her shirt.

“Motherfucker,” Morgan gasped out. Her head was slammed down again and Morgan screamed. The impact caught the bridge of her nose this time making the blood gush, some sliding down the back of her throat and she coughed, the taste of iron staining her mouth. Enraged Morgan spit some of the blood into Villain’s stupid, smirking face.

Villain smiled and it seemed to suck all confidence from Morgan’s very soul. A smile so dark it struck fear straight to centre of Morgan’s heart, pumping the danger signal around her body through her blood that that was a mistake, and she should run.

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

Morgan couldn’t help herself as the words spilled from her mouth: “you creep. At least buy me dinner first.”

The shadows tightened around Morgan, cold hands grabbed and pushed her down. She knew it was futile to resist as she fought and struggled, Villain’s shadows were freakishly strong, and Morgan’s knees hit the cold concrete floor of her cell. Villain grabbed Morgan’s chin, moving her head side to side, examining her. She tried to push back, to stand up, to do anything; but the shadows kept her exactly how Villain wanted her.

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

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

Lingering like the coldness of his shadowed touch.

Morgan retreated to the back wall of the cell, sat on the cot again and rested her head back against the wall, and waited for the blood to stop falling.

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

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

That Flynn…

Her Flynn was the one who put Sidekick in the hospital.

Sidekick, who was still in the hospital, where Morgan should be, but no. Instead, she was stuck here, powerless and bleeding and it was all her fault.

Morgan didn’t know how long she sat and stewed on that thought. Long enough that her nose stopped bleeding anyway. She tentatively reached up to her upper lip, her hand came away from it dry, the blood caked and flaked now. At least that was something, she supposed.

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

“Fuck off, Red,” Morgan grumbled, and fought the wince at the nickname that slipped so casually from her lips. “I’m not in the mood.”

A jangle of keys and the cell door was open, footsteps approached Morgan in her cot in the corner. Her heart ached with every beat as Flynn came into her line of sight, concern drawing his features together.

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

How much of it was a lie? — Morgan wanted to ask. The question burned a hole on the tip of her tongue, but she didn’t dare speak it. She just stared and tried not to cry.

“What? You piss someone off already?”

Morgan sighed. Flynn sat on the edge of the bed, moving closer, hands going to inspect the damage. Morgan slapped them away, tears burning the back of her eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why the hell not?” Morgan demanded, an attempt to force her tone into some form of neutrality.

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

Morgan rolled her eyes, but she got to her feet regardless. “Of course,” she said, pushing past Flynn to the door. “God help you actually wanted to see how I was doing.”

“Morgan—”

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

“Morgan that’s not—”

Before he could get the fourth word out, Morgan had whirled on him eyes blazing hotter than any of hell’s furnaces.

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

Flynn didn’t back down this time. He stepped forward, and stared down his nose at Morgan.

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

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

“Morgan you know I can’t—”

Morgan didn’t let him finish. Instead, she placed her palms flat on Flynn’s chest and shoved him as hard as she could. Flynn looked about as bothered as if a fly had flown into the room.

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

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

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

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

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

Morgan narrowed her eyes at him, pushing every ounce of anger into her gaze hoping it would turn into actual daggers and stab him.

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

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

“You.”

“What?!” Morgan demanded hotly.

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

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

“Not particularly,” Morgan said through gritted teeth with another step back that Flynn matched, getting closer and closer each time. She was acutely aware that he was cornering her but she didn’t have time to do anything except evade.

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

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

“Now you can be,” said Flynn with a wide gesture of his hands. Morgan followed his hand to the cell door that they happened to be right beside. “Even just for the intellectual stimulation if nothing else.”

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

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

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

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

*~*~*~*~*

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

Where you’ll be staying…

Supervillain planned this, she realised, every last detail, and Morgan didn’t notice. She didn’t know, she didn’t see. Supervillain didn’t let a hint slip about this! Taking her captive and not letting her go, and it – though Morgan would never admit it – it terrified her.

What if she wasn’t as good as a detective as she thought she was? What if… Morgan’s eyes studied Supervillain’s face. What if she had only seen what Supervillain wanted her to see?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Morgan’s eyes zeroed in on the door to the basement as she stepped into another hallway. She was half expecting Supervillain to open it and shove her down the stairs before laughing like a cartoon villain and slamming the cellar door close.

Instead, Supervillain walked past it. Morgan followed mutely. She gulped quietly as she passed the cellar door. Now that it was so close, Morgan really didn’t feel like going back there… back to the cold and defenceless cot in a cell, underground, where any member of the villain family could come down and gloat.

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

Not even Flynn…

Maybe a room would be better. At least Morgan could barricade the door and break the window or something. She could make a better defensive position. Not be subject to her host’s moods when it takes them. Her nose throbbed at the thought of Villain coming down to her cell again. She shuddered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Instead, here she was, knee deep in enemy territory, on a tour of Supervillain’s house. Morgan had to pull her gaze away from Sidekick’s face, to study the rest of the room. She screwed her lips up tight to try and stop her from trembling.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shut up,” Morgan snarled, her head snapped to Supervillain, glare intense as she stepped back away from him. “Stop fucking explaining everything you’re doing, or have done, to me like I want to hear your excuses!”

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

Supervillain clasped his hands behind his back, chewing on her words, looking for the best ones before he spoke. Everything was so measured. Perfectly controlled. It put Morgan off, as if Supervillain was more machine than human… but that was what enthralled her to him, what made her be a better detective and a better hero.

His gaze wandered to the map, ran over every outlined space of the city with a critical eye. “Did you notice anything about the map?”

Morgan frowned at the question; her attention snapped back to the map as Supervillain walked around the table. He stopped directly opposite Morgan. She did a quick scan of it, her eyebrows knitting together. Did she miss something? No, she didn’t. The heroes know about the different territories. Maybe Supervillain giving away what heroes he thought were important with the chess pieces but other than that…

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

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

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

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

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

Morgan recoiled back a step, horror painting her features, as if Supervillain had killed a puppy in front of her and punched her at the same time instead of spoken.

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

Morgan released a shaky breath trapped in her chest and shook her head. The chain between her cuffs rattled as her hands shook, tears pricking the back of their eyes as her gaze filled with a helpless-fuelled hatred and accusation.

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

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

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

It was as if the world crumbled underneath Morgan’s feet. She wanted nothing more than to collapse there and then, her body flooded with adrenaline as the weight of Supervillain’s words hit her.

It was all too much.

It all felt like too much.

She wanted to scream and cry, and punch something— no she wanted to punch Supervillain and Flynn because…

Morgan flinched as a comforting hand came down on her shoulder, eyes widening slightly because when did Supervillain get that close?

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

Morgan half expected Supervillain to gloat further, or press Morgan on why she was nearly crying, maybe even be cruel and make fun of her. Supervillain walked passed her to the door that opened with a beep. Morgan followed him with her eyes. She bit the inside of her cheek, re-opening the wound.

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

Morgan stared at Supervillain, blinked and took a breath before she started walking out the door without being prompted this time. She could feel Supervillain’s hungry gaze following her as she submitted compliantly, but what else was there to do? Now that he had threatened Sidekick, who was already in critical condition… fuck, how could she be so stupid?

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

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

She couldn’t leave.

If she left, Sidekick would die, and it would be all her fault.

Again.

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

Morgan felt Flynn’s eyes on her, searching her face, imploring her to look at Flynn but she couldn’t. Her stomach flopped like a fish out of water, threatening to throw her dinner up any moment.

“Uh, yes. I will, thanks.”

“No problem,” Supervillain replied, mirthful as he strode past Morgan down the hall towards Flynn. He clapped a hand on Flynn’s shoulder as he passed and shot one last look over his shoulder at Morgan. Morgan met his gaze once, fleetingly, then turned her head away. Flynn was the first to move. He walked cautiously closer to Morgan who stood like a kicked puppy in the middle of the hall.

When Supervillain turned the corner, he smiled a satisfied smile to himself.

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

Whether it wanted to or not.

*~*~*~*~*