#revengeeee

Notes: Again, pulled this off my phone's notes, and it has been seen by most ppl on the gc, but for anyone else, here you go. I'm sorry, but ISTG high schooollll. . .ughhhhh

TW: blood, death, violence, past trauma, restraints, bone fractures, kidnapping

"I'm not a sadist, no. I don't enjoy the infliction of pain. Especially on innocents. The concept makes me rather sick."

Hero circled the room languidly, in a rather preditorial fashion. "But if I'm being completely honest, I do have a bit of a thirst for revenge."

"Revenge? Who even are you?" his captive asked.

He let out a shrill, cold cackle. "Don't you remember your little nightingale? Your favourite pet?" he spat. He lifted his hood, revealing his face.

And sure enough, it was him. He used to be a skinny, little thing, but now, he towered above him easily, and even though he remained somewhat slender, he obviously had a much stronger build. His face went from being somewhat childlishly soft even in its bony countenance to being harshly contoured with sharp lines. The nightingale had grown up. He wasn't an adult, no. He looked about sixteen, maybe seventeen.

Even if Supervillain was bound harshly to the chair with relentlessly tight ropes, he was determined to have the upper hand. He had a hold on this kid, he'd marked him, scarred him enough, and through all of his pride, he'd made him beg. It didn't matter if the intention was to escape, it still happened. One blissful time. And it was this boy's utter refusal that made him so beautiful to break. It was rarer, scarcer and thus more valuable.

"Oh, so you got all big and strong just to fight me, nightingale? How thoughtful of you!" he chirps with misplaced enthusiasm.

The crime-fighter laughed again, and it almost looked genuine as he wiped tears from his eyes. "Don't give yourself so much credit. You don't occupy that much space in my head. I trained for myself. I got stronger because I wanted to. You didn't inspire anything in me aside from this visceral urge to rip everyone who ever wronged me to shreds. I'm not giving you a taste of your own medicine. I'm giving you a taste of my most bitter poison."

"But you still made the effort to show up, no?"

"I told you. I'm into revenge. It's nothing personal. You're a liability to me. Means to an end. Basically, I'm a bored cat and you're my plaything. You've stripped yourself of the right to be treated like a human being." He shrugged casually as though they were talking about what they liked to order at a coffee shop.

"Well, what lovely activities have you got planned for me, nightingale?" the evil-doer crooned sweetly.

Hero swiftly sliced through the ropes with a knife. He grabbed him by the collar and threw him harshly across the room. He wasted no time on kicking him down roughly with the heel of his boot. He didn't give him any chances to recover. Aiming cruel punches to his face and kicking his ribs so many times he'd practically smashed his entire ribcage. All while the older man let out maniacal laughter.

"What a beautiful show you're putting on! Wondering what you might want with this?" he wheezed.

Cartwheeling and letting his boot smash mercilessly into his chest, the boy let out a downright animalistic snarl. "What I want, is to give you what you ultimately deserve. I was just some kid. Hurt, broken and naïve, and you turned me into a goddamn toy. And maybe sick people like you think it's funny, but none of your victims share the sentiment."

He wheezed again, sputtering blood. "Are you going to kill me, nightingale?" Supervillain let his voice drop down to a stage whisper.

"Of course I will. But this theme park has rules. Can't experience the giant roller coaster without going through all the other rides now can we?" His voice dropped dangerously low, dripping pure venom.

He ended up breaking almost every single bone in his former tormentor's body. All with nothing but his own hands smeared in blood that wasn't his and his feet that were clad in heavy combat boots. And endless cycle of throwing him against the wall "Like a single player game of catch," he'd stated, and he never gave him a chance to breathe, let alone get up.

He'd made sure every movement was an absolute pain. He'd rendered him useless now. If he'd thought he could power through this and break the boy's spirit once more, he was horribly mistaken.

"Nightingale, don't you think you've had enough fun for today?" he rasped out breathlessly, words feeling slow and heavy on his tongue that was now slick with blood.

His-previously-captive-turned-assailant laughed again, a sound almost as grating as nails on a chalkboard. "You better hope God has mercy on you because I don't. I am just a mere human being, lacking God's capacity to forgive atrocities. And this is far too personal."

He pulled out his knife and stabbed him in the chest so many times that he lost count. All the rage, pain, humiliation, just all of it fueled his every hit, blinding him with a flurry of pure, unrelenting hatred, like a monster drunk on its lack of mercy.

"N-never. . .never forget that I broke you before nightingale."

"Oh, and never forget that I built myself up and came back to break you, permanently."

He walked further inside, kicking the rusty himges of the ancient door down to find a little girl, same age as he was when he got taken by that sick freak. She tried to squirm away, useless against her restraints.

"Hey hey hey, relax. I won't hurt you. The man that took you, he's gone now." He crouched down to her level, expression soft and voice soothingly gentle.

"G-gone? When's h-he coming back?"

"Never, sweetheart. He's gone for good."

"Y-you killed him?" she whispered, terrified.

He bit his lip, not wanting to emphasise that he'd just committed first-degree murder to an eleven year old, but he nodded slowly.

He cut through the ropes, trying his best not to freak her out. The child got closer to him slowly, and as if on instinct, she wrapped her arms around his waist, or at least she tried to, and sobbed into his hoodie. He slowly reciprocated, taken aback by the gesture and surprised by how trusting she was. She was probably in shock, the poor kid.

He didn't let go until she did. "Do you remember any of your parents' numbers?" he asked.

"My mum's."

He talked to the mother, explaining exactly what happened as per the child's story. All the while he let the girl, frozen with fear, cling to him as they waited. Whispering words of comfort to try to get her to at least calm down.

After getting the location, she was eternally grateful to him for getting her daughter back.

And that was more than enough to outweigh any inkling of guilt he may have had for killing this psycopath. He'd spared so many kids, not just her, the hell he had been through.

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