#killer hero

sickening. this was supposed to be sickening. hero's claws were dug into the neck of their assailant and they should've been sick and throwing up right now.

hero gulped. the blood tasted bad. they pulled their claws out, and plunged it into the dying man again. and again. and again. faster, faster, faster, long after the light from their capturer's eyes had left and the blood no longer burned. their throat shook with each laboured breath.

"wow," villain rasped behind them. "you really are... the best thing to happen to me."

this was wrong. hero had never killed. this was in self defense. the man would've killed them both. villain was already holding a snapped wrist from them. villain.

"untie me?"

hero stood, and turned, and when they looked the villain was terrified. the air became denser, denser, and hero thought their feet were stone. or lead. both. stone-lead. lead-stone. salt filled the hero's mouth, and in a few moments the hero was retching and throwing up off the side of the building. they didn't know where it fell. this didn't feel like nighttime it felt like the sun was dead and the world was shrouded in black clouds. or fog. both.

maybe the villain's fear was more sickening than murder. they'd never seen them even hesitate, let alone be scared.

fuck. fuck. hero never killed. never.

they stood upright, trying to think. untie villain. untie them first before anything else. their claws had gone back inside. their knuckles were bloody now. think straight. don't be scattered. the hero contemplated killing themself. just jump off the roof. but the villain wouldn't be able to go free that way. their skin didn't feel like their own anymore. the claws felt like a curse. damnation. hell on earth. the earth was swaying like a rickety scale.

what if hero tipped it over?

"...hero?"

hero turned, and realised they were becoming wobbly on their feet. the man's eyes were still open.

"hey."

the hero looked up, and villain looked unsure. like they weren't sure if the hero was two words away from snapping.

hero didn't want to snap. they didn't think they had it in them--they didn't. they didn't. they didn't. they didn't they didn't they didn't.

they saw how the villain pressed themself back against the wall when they made their way over a bit too quickly. a bit too unsteady. god (was there any god anyway?), they must look like some serial killer. were they? were they a killer?

they thought they'd be sick again.

hero got on their knees. they untied the villain. they watched them work their one good wrist and wondered if they should be feeling something. should they? would they if it weren't for the dead guy?

shit. there was a dead guy. yes. they should feel something. they felt fear. what if the man's body stood up, right now? nighttime was passing into daytime slowly. the air was turning colder. hero felt cold. they shouldn't. it was unfair. was it? what about it was unfair? why did they think it was? were they going mad? was the body still there or was it no longer a cadaver or had it never been a cadaver? fuck. fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck--

"don't look."

hero turned their head back to look at villain. the winds were growing aggressive; how had hero not noticed? villain was shivering in its whistles, head tilted to one side.

"he's not worth it."

"he was a person." it sounded dirty on hero's tongue. was. what a fucking word. "he didn't--"

"deserve it?" villain sat upright, head tilting the other way just the slightest bit. were they provoked? weren't they afraid?

"i didn't want to." hero was crying. hero didn't even deserve that. they killed someone. it wasn't their right. was it anybody's? their chest was heaving. why weren't they crying earlier?

villain never looked at them without that hardened expression on their face. for a moment it felt like all the hardened edges were eroding. hero didn't want that.

hero didn't want to murder somebody. why did they keep stabbing and stabbing? like some maniac obsessed with plunging knives into dead bodies. they were terrible. they were unforgivable now. they couldn't even bring themself to look because they were too busy crying. they should, right? should they or should they not. they should.

"don't look at them." villain forced their chin back, eyes wide. "don't. it's not worth it."

hero glared at them through their tears, and then looked off to the side, groaning. they bared their teeth in frustration, and suddenly their head was pounding and their eyes were closed tight.

they removed their chin from the villain's fingers, bringing their face into their hands, and something in them was threatening to break down. where was their humanity now?

"god..."

a hand ghosted over their back, and hero flinched wildly, curling into themself as much they could. they heard villain curse.

"you didn't want to," villain said.

"i didn't!" that's what the hero had been fucking saying, dammit. they didn't. they never meant to kill a man, they never wanted to. it wasn't them. it wasn't. how could they think that so confidently?

"it's not your fault."

the hero snapped their head up from their hands, and it made the villain flinch back slightly. "god you... look like a mess."

right. a mess. they couldn't even pay much attention to villain. the sobs weren't stopping. they should stop. they should stop. villain patiently waited until the hero's sobs were reduced to sniffles and blank eyes. fuck. hero didn't know what to feel.

"hero..." villain sighed. "listen. people die every day."

hero's breath caught. they buried their face into their hands again, gritting their teeth.

"doctors kill their patients through accidents. people kill in self defense. i..." they sighed another time. "i killed one of my fucking henchmen, hero. your leader has killed so many more people than i could count on my fingers."

"what." the hero raised their head again, sniffling. "and--and suddenly that's okay?"

"hero."

sobs were crawling through hero's throat again. "...what?" they said weakly.

the villain's throat bobbed. "when you're in a position like this one, you will come across a situation where murder is likely."

"i know!" hero shouted, "stop lecturing me! i fucking know!" they smacked the cusp of their palm to their forehead, bent down and crying again. "you weren't expecting it either," they said, "you--you were fucking terrified."

villain stiffened like an angry cat and glared at them almost defensively.

“of course you’d be emotional--“

“am i not allowed to be?!”

"he was going to kill us!"

hero screamed, and their claws sprung out of their fists without them wanting to. they wanted to punch something. they wanted to scratch at their skin. it felt invasive.

"he," villain bit out, "would've killed so many other people if you hadn't killed him."

"it's not my right," hero choked out, pushing their fists to the ground in some wretched attempt to push the claws in back faster. "it's--it's not... it's not."

"you can't change it."

the hero cried louder. and if they killed more? what then? what if people learned about this?

"i'm not a murderer."

"you aren't."

"then what am i?"

"anything but. he was going to kill you."

hero was starting to feel numb. villain wound an arm around their back and pulled them close.

"i've killed loads. you're far from a murderer. don't look." villain covered hero's sight with their palm. "he was a monster anyway. you saved our lives."

hero was starting to tear up again.

villain got up, much more unsteady on their feet. hero followed.

"i'll get you out," they said. they didn't let hero see the body. "he'll be gone before you can come back to see it."

"i... i can help." hero swallowed back a sob. "with your wrist."

"yeah. yeah. i'll need that. thank you. for saving me. you really are the best thing to happen to me."