#tw hostage

Hero began their struggle anew. The harsh rope bit into their wrists, bound just a smidgen too tight. Their eyes swept over what they could make out of their surroundings. It was a crude cell, like a barred off portion of a basement. The corner they had been so unceremoniously dumped in while unconscious was damp and hard. Not only were their knees numb with pain, but any sort of hope they could’ve had was slowly shrinking.

Hero spread their fingers, wiggling their hands around as much as they could. Tears dotted the corners of their eyes as they could feel the rope scratch and peel away their skin. If they ever saw Superhero again, they were going to kill them. Justice be damned. No one had ever betrayed them as cruelly as Superhero had.

If they could only get their fingers to find a knot…

Something creaked. Hero glanced at the dusty, dingy beams running along the ceiling above them. As the footsteps, they determined, moved across the floor above, the wood joists groaned. Bits of grime, dust, and dirt fluttered to the floor. Hero quickly blinked against the particles and turned their face toward the damp floor. A triangle of light pooled from somewhere in their peripheral vision, but not at the same level as they were. The light came from above, and if Hero craned their stiff neck, they could just make out the first step of a flight of stairs.

So the pair really had stuck them in a basement cell.

Just as quickly as the light had appeared, it was gone with what could only mean the door had been shut. Metal groaned, another sign of the ill-kept basement dwelling. With every creak of the staircase, one of their two captors came closer, and Hero wasn’t certain which they dreaded more: the friend who had taught them what it meant to be a hero and to act heroically even when it was difficult to do so or the criminal who had been Superhero’s corruption.

Hero snarled as the familiar face of their mentor came into view. The dim light shone upon their clean and unperturbed features.

“How dare you show your face,” Hero growled, jerking against their bonds as if they could surge forward and crowd Superhero menacingly. Their short-lived burst of effort only afforded them a stinging pain as the rope twisted further into their skin. A thick trail of warm liquid ran down their wrists, surely dripping like raindrops from their skin to stain the floor with their blood. It didn’t help that Superhero was a full head taller than them, but if Hero had learned anything—especially given recent events—it wasn’t size that mattered. It was how you carried yourself, and right now there was murder in their blood.

“Hero,” Superhero dared to begin. “I didn’t come here to fight with you, or to harm you—”

“You shouldn’t’ve come at all,” Hero spat. “How dare you come here and act like you’ve done nothing wrong!”

Superhero seemed to shrink away for a second. Hero knew the instant a dangerous switch had flipped inside of their mentor and former friend, but couldn’t find it in themselves to be frightened of the anger licking like flames inside their friend’s eyes. As if they were punching back at their own conscience, Superhero squared their shoulders and loosely wrapped a hand around one of the cell bars.

“You think you’re so righteous?” Superhero said accusingly. “You think that because you aren’t willing to do what’s needed to end crime once and for all that you’re more of a hero than me or even Supervillain?”

Hero eyed them warily, noticing a hint of mania in the older hero’s eyes that they’d never seen before.

“You really want to stand there before me and argue that, after everything they’ve done, Supervillain is the real hero in all of this?”

“More of a hero than you’ll ever be if you don’t come around.”

“Come around to what?” Hero clenched their fists. They weren’t any closer to escaping, let alone figuring out what Superhero meant by their rambling. Had Supervillain managed to brainwash them? Was it some kind of conditioning? Hero thought back to a time when Superhero would’ve been taken captive by Supervillain, but couldn’t remember anything. So maybe it wasn’t that so much as a manipulation and Superhero was only a pawn in whatever end goal Supervillain had for themselves.

“I was wrong.” Superhero shook their head mournfully. “I thought maybe you could understand, but they were right. You’re too self-righteous, an idealist.”

“Then help—”

“That won’t work on me, you know that.” Superhero turned away from them, taking a step into the shadows from which they’d descended only moments earlier.

“I hope we meet again in hell.” Hero found themselves saying.

Superhero came to a dead stop where they stood.

“Because when we do,” Hero continued, fully understanding every word they were saying now, and that they truly meant it. Every word. They meant every word in their heart, no matter how bitter they tasted on their tongue. “I will ruin you. I will destroy whatever’s left of that twisted soul of yours until there’s nothing left for even the devil to recognize your sins by.”

“Careful, Hero,” a voice said from the shadows beyond where Superhero had frozen.

Supervillain.

“You’re beginning to sound like me now.”

Hero held their breath as the master criminal strolled into view. How long had they been there? How long had they been watching and listening to them?

Supervillain paused beside the corrupted hero and spared them a glance. A look passed between them that Hero couldn’t decipher beyond the glee in Supervillain’s eyes and the grim line of Superhero’s lips.

“Well,” Hero licked their lips, “you know what they say about when good men go to war.”

Supervillain’s lips pulled into a mirthless grin, one that was hungry and very much like a predator’s. “Good men never live long enough to go to war.”

“I sincerely beg to differ,” Hero challenged, lifting their chin defiantly. Deep down in their gut, their resolve roiled. It was like their power of sight was rallying, but for once, Hero couldn’t discern what it all meant, or where this newfound confidence was coming from.

They were surely going to die at Supervillain’s hands. There was no denying that, so why was there this surge of faith and assurance? Why would their gift bolster them now, in what was to be their final moments of sound mind and body, if not life?

Supervillain’s grin only widened as they stalked closer, leaving Superhero standing between where the cellar stairs must be and Hero’s little cell. In the few prideful steps it took Supervillain to reach their cell and then to unlock the rusted door, Superhero’s shoulders had slumped. They cast a hesitant glance back at the master criminal joining Hero in the cell.

“You should really stay,” Hero said, glaring back at Superhero and their hesitation. “After all, you’re partners now, aren’t you? Shouldn’t you be here for this, or can you not stomach the consequences of your actions? It must be eating away at you. I know it would if—”

Their head snapped to the side, their cheek stinging with pins and needles. Hero worked their jaw, eyeing Supervillain reproachfully.

“You call that a slap?” Hero smirked. “A play-fighting kitten has a harder hit than that.”

Supervillain backhanded them again. Hero took a breath and blew it out slowly. From the corner of their eye, they saw the little slice of light from above and watched it disappear just as quickly. It was like the cowardly traitor had never been there. All Hero was left with was the company of a smug criminal smiling down at them.

They grinned back at Supervillain a little too sweetly. “I bet you’re not even strong enough to wield the Ancient Sword, and that’s why you need Superhero, isn’t it?”

Supervillain’s jaw clenched. Their hands curled into fists at their sides. “This was their plan, darling Hero. I’m just here to make sure they get what they want.”

Hero cocked their head to the side, working the criminal’s words over in their head and piecing it together with what Superhero had vaguely babbled about earlier.

“And I’m certainly not going to let the likes of you get in their way.”

“Aw, I’m flattered,” Hero laughed. “You couldn’t beat me in a fair fight, so you had to go through all this trouble with Hitman just to get to me? That contract must’ve cost a pretty penny. Whose money did you use? Was it Politician’s?”

Supervillain’s hand snapped out and wrapped around Hero’s neck—just under their chin—and angled their head back sharply. Leaning in closer, Supervillain braced their other hand above Hero on the pole that they were bound to. They loomed over them with a dark shadow across their face that Hero could only describe as loathing.

“They won’t be coming for you, if that’s what you’re getting at,” they hissed.

“Naturally.” Hero forced the words from their throat. Supervillain wasn’t choking them—not yet—but the placement of their hand was at such a place under their chin that it was difficult to speak. “Though between the two of you, I did think they were a more likely candidate to effectively wield the sword. I mean, the legend even says it only takes to the strong. Only weak people like you have to go to lengths such as this to hold any power over others. Wouldn’t you say so?”

Hero didn’t know where the words came from, only that they hit their mark. They could see it in Supervillain’s eyes, the way they widened a fraction and then returned to their simmering glare. Hero latched onto the thread of hope their sight was gifting them. They knew no matter what, it wouldn’t end well for them, but at least their powers were giving them something to weaponize against Supervillain. Even if they couldn’t save themselves, they could plant a seed of doubt in Supervillain’s mind, and with any luck, someone else would be able to exploit it or it would delay the plans they’d made with Superhero.

“But enough about that old thing,” Hero said. “Can we talk about how great of a kisser Superhero is?”

Supervillain’s lips twitched.

“Oh,” Hero exclaimed, their own eyes widening as if they’d said something they didn’t know was supposed to be a secret. “They didn’t tell you about us?”

Supervillain reeled back, dropping their hand from Hero’s throat, but not from the pole.

“I’m sorry,” Hero said genuinely, in spite of the fact that they were lying through their teeth. “I didn’t realize your relationship was so fragile that they wouldn’t want to tell you about us.”

The master criminal’s nostrils flared. Their eyes narrowed impossibly.

“Sometimes I miss them. What we had, you know?” Hero shook their head as if they were reminiscing with an old friend and sharing secrets about their old flames. “God, that stupid laugh, you know the one when you tell an awful joke, but they laugh like it’s the funniest thing in the world and it brings out their dim—”

Hero’s shoulders curled inward, but they couldn’t quite double over given their current position with their hands tied behind their back and the pole. They hadn’t even seen the kick coming, or the inclination to do so cross Supervillain’s face. Heaving, they glanced up at Supervillain, nearly forgetting themselves and the part their intuition had been playing at. And god what a dangerous game it was they were playing.

“I guess you don’t like their dimples,” they wheezed, attempting a weak chuckle.

Supervillain didn’t say a word. They didn’t even look at them as they whirled around and opened the door to their cell with stiff movements.

“I’ll be here if you ever want to talk about that annoying thing they do when they eat!” Hero called out hoarsely as Supervillain receded into the shadows of the basement.

But they weren’t to be left to their own devices for too long. And when Supervillain came back, it wasn’t only the wave of anger rolling off of them that returned with them. No, they came with a tray of tools that sent Hero’s stomach into turmoil.

“Every word,” Supervillain said, picking over their instruments of torture. “Every word you said, you’ll pay for.”

“Do you think they’ll still love you if you destroy their oldest friend?”

“Do you think there’ll be enough of you for anyone to recognize?”

“They’ll know. It’s why they can’t stand to be here right now, why they couldn’t help.” Hero shifted on their calves, their knees aching. “Don’t you see? There will always be a part of you that disgusts them. Whatever it is you’re giving them with that sword, it won’t ever be enough. And what’s to say when they’re done…” Hero trailed off, wracking their brain for an answer to the jumbled puzzle twirling around their mind. “When they’re done purging the world of villains, what’s stopping them from turning the sword on you? It’s not like they’d need it, really. If I remember correctly, their brilliance doesn’t mesh well with you, does it?”

The master criminal paused. Their hand had since halted in place, hovering over a set of brass knuckles. Their eyes snapped to Hero and then back to the tray of tools at their disposal.

“You may think you’re clever, dear hero,” they tsked, “but you’re not. I know what you’re doing, and it won’t work.”

“Hasn’t it though?” Hero tilted their head up, keeping their voice innocent and smooth.

Supervillain plucked up a plain knife. Hero almost sagged in relief, but couldn’t find it in themselves as they held the hard stare boring into their soul.

“What was it you said again?” Supervillain pondered, squatting in front of them as they dangled the knife absently between their fingers. “Oh yes, ‘I will ruin you. I will destroy whatever’s left of that twisted soul of yours until there’s nothing left for even the devil to recognize your sins by.’” Supervillain lightly trailed the knife along Hero’s cheek. Their eyes turned contemplative. “I doubt anyone will be able to identify your body.”

Hero swallowed against the dryness encroaching on their tongue. They wouldn’t make it to the next sunrise if they couldn’t change something about their situation soon. Maybe if they screamed loud enough, Superhero wouldn’t be able to bear it. Maybe someone was coming for them. It wasn’t likely that anyone would find them in time.

At the first slash of the knife across their skin, Hero unleashed the loudest, most bloodcurdling scream a human could conceivably produce. If they were to be tortured, so was Superhero. All these “maybes” meant nothing as Supervillain kept slashing away at their skin, their clothes, at their dignity.

As their skin grew stickier and Supervillain moved on to different tactics and tools, Hero found themselves wishing they had seen Superhero’s betrayal coming sooner, had known it that night when they’d gone to their safe house. But how were they to predict that the city’s greatest hero had taken to the extreme? Or that they would’ve fallen in love with the likes of Supervillain? One thing was for certain, if Other Supervillain—if Politician, they reminded their fraying state of consciousness—was still out there and Supervillain hadn’t gotten to them yet, there was still hope for the city, and the world. Superhero’s villain-genocide could still be stopped.

Taglist: @selene-stories

The Bargain (Spin Off Chapter Between 7 & 8)

?: You’ve gotta get me outta here! He’s fucking crazy!

Oscar: ...

?: Please! I don’t even know who any of you are or why I’m here!

?: You want me to beg?! I’ll do whatever you want just get me outta this room, please...

Oscar: I can’t...

?: I shouldn’t be here! I don’t know anything!

...

?: He’s coming back... Don’t leave me alone with him, he’s gonna shoot my fucking knees out!

Oscar: My hands are as tied as yours.

Bruno: [chuckles] Movin’ on up are we, friend? Your gear’s on the table outside. Maybe we’ll meet again real soon. Now, where were we?

?: I already told you, I don’t know what you’re talkin-....

Bruno: Shh, shh. The time for talking is over. You had your chance.

?: But I-...

Bruno: Ah, ah, ah. What did I just say?

?: ...

Bruno: Atta-boy... What’re you gawking at? Get the fuck out already.

...

[GUNSHOT]

[PAINED SCREAM]