ALL TWs Are Marked As Tw.{trigger.here} In The Tags. Ex:

ALL TWs are marked as tw.{trigger.here} in the tags. Ex:

tw.blood

tw.threats.of.torture

List of TWs:

Asphyxiation

Attempted murder

Blood

Burns

Captivity

Car accident

Death

Description of wounds

Explosion

Future murder

Held down

Implied abuse

Implied coma

Implied kidnapping

Implied self harm

Knife

Light description of injuries

Long term illness

Manipulation

Needle

Past death

Past murder

Poison

Restraints

Self destructive behaviors

Self sacrifice

Suicidal thoughts

Suicide

Threats of torture

Threats

Use of medical equipment

Violence

Wounds

This is how villains become supervillains

“For years, I’ve been so scared of myself, of what I can do, that I’ve held myself back. But I’m done being scared. I want to know what it’s like to use my powers at 100%.”

The hero grabbed the collar of the villain’s shirt and pulled them to lean over the tiny island countertop. “Listen here, you bastard. I know that you’re [Villain].”

The villain rolled their eyes. “Well obviously. And you’re not that great at hiding your identity either, [Hero].”

The hero tugged harder, nearly knocking over the ingredients splayed between them. “What are you doing with [Civilian]?”

“Why, we go all the way back to high school.” The villain placed their hands on the counter and pushed upwards, so that they loomed over the hero. “In fact, I’m pretty sure I’ve known them longer than you have.”

“You little – ”

“They didn’t have baking powder,” the civilian said, stepping through the apartment’s front door. “So I just got baking soda. That’s basically the same thing, right?”

They entered the kitchen to the sight of the hero and villain merrily measuring flour and chopping strawberries. They both greeted the civilian with bright smiles on their faces.

“Aw, I knew you two would get along,” the civilian said. “Alright, let me pull the eggs out, and then we’ll really get started.”

The civilian turned around to root in the fridge. The hero flipped the villain off, and the villain mimed stabbing with their strawberry-chopping knife.

“Alright, that’s everything,” the civilian said, turning back again with the eggs.

“Great!” the other two said in unison, beaming from ear to ear.

Recruit

“Who’s this?” The hero asked as they watched a kid get dragged through the hall by facility guards. “Not a threat, I’m sure. He can’t be more than, what, eight?”

“No, not a threat.” The manager beside them confirmed. “A recruit.”

“He doesn’t look too happy, Manager.” The hero said as the kid disappeared around the corner. “Is this a willing recruit?”

“Mm, more or less. His guardian wasn’t…in the proper…mindset to be a parent.” They brought their pen up to their mouth. “Lucky he ended up being a super.”

For as much as the PR team tried to spin it that Hero was all brawn and no brain, they weren’t.

Hero took the moment to look over their manager’s tense position, then leaned against the wall, crossing their arms. “How much of this recruitment was you stalking a parent and their child?”

The manager did not like when their hero did that, it meant they were willing to use that brain that PR tried to hide. A simple, innocent question, and suddenly a person was left defenseless, spilling all their secrets without meaning to. That wasn’t even a super ability of Hero’s, they just knew what to do to unravel a person.

If the public knew that Hero could be as manipulative as they come…Well, soundbites existed, so any information Hero gained during a fight with some criminal could be covered with a choice number of destructive noises.

“Hero.” Manager warned. “I’m not like the bad guys, and even if you know what makes me tick, I won’t tell you anything.”

“Hey,” Hero said, flashing a smile and uncrossing their arms, holding them up. “My bad, force of habit. But I do worry for the kid. It’s not too far off from my own upbringing, but I was orphaned and came to the facility willingly.”

“Uh, yeah.” Manager brought their hand up to the back of their neck. “Yeah, it’s not entirely different from your schtick. He just has a parent who was ‘deemed unworthy of housing a super’.”

With a well placed snort from the hero, the manager laughed.

“I know!” They said, now flailing their arms wildly. “We don’t run charity cases, but honestly, I get this one. Keeps everyone safe in the long run. My whole job is keeping your image pristine as can be.”

“So, what can the kid do? If his super ability is so extraordinary that we suddenly felt like running charity cases, it’s gotta be something insanely awesome.”

“He can apparently portal, was caught hovering, so maybe flight-”

“It’s impressive he can even do it at eight.”

“Seven, actually.” Manager lowered their voice. “And he used disintegration touch when we first tried to bring him in. You can put two and two together, if that got out, we would have people theorizing that he’s Villain’s kid and-” The manager’s eyes widened. “You son of a bitch.”

“Son of nothing, actually. Orphan, remember?”

“I- you didn’t- you hardly even asked a question!”

The hero shrugged. “What can I say? It’s what I do. It’s a skill I put to good use, you know that, you of all people know that.” They pinched their manager’s cheek. “I won’t spill, don’t worry, this was for my own benefit.”

“You’re the worst!” The manager shouted at them as the Hero calmly skipped along the halls.

Never lose your cool. It’s a lesson the hero was taught well in the facility. So, they managed to keep their cool up until they were far, far, far away from public and private eye, their crash room. A room provided if there was ever a fight that kept raging and the hero needed to recharge. No one was allowed entry, no one except hero.

Never lose your cool. Never mind that Villain’s kid was in the facility. Never mind that Villain apparently had a kid. Never mind that this kid was seven.

Seven. Villain. Kid.

God.

The hero sat, and thought for a moment. There was a small off chance, with the way the time added up, that the kid currently within the facility was not only Villain’s, but theirs. Of course there was that possibility, they weren’t stupid.

There was also a possibility that this kid wasn’t. But he was seven, he could fly, portal, and use disintegration touch.

Villain couldn’t fly. Hero could. Manager worried for their ‘pristine image.’

It wasn’t as if they were going to let the kid be anyways. They weren’t going to let some poor traumatized child that was probably brought here kicking and screaming be alone within the cold, metal interior. Hero had planned on very much mentoring this kid, and possibly returning him back to his parent if the ‘unworthy’ part ended up being a bold face lie.

Was Villain an unworthy parent? Villain’s son? Oh, god.

Oh, god. Villain was probably on their way here. If they cared for their kid at all, they were probably on the way to blow everyone here up and take back their son.

Seven years old. Oh, god.

The hero stood. They had a half baked plan of finding the kid, and making sure he was ok, and then…and then…

Oh, god.

They needed to talk to Villain.

Snippet #4.02

Part 1

Tw: use of medical equipment, death mentioned, burns mentioned, car accident mentioned,

(all mentioneds’ are marked as tw.death, tw.burns, ect. ect.)

When the door clicked shut behind Civilain, they all but collapsed into a heap. Their bag slipped from between their fingers and to the ground with a heavy thunk. A breath they didn’t know they’d been holding escaped them as they dragged a hand through their hair. They let the silence stretch around them, as if it could say ‘there is peace in the city, it’s okay, it’s all okay now’. They dropped to a crouch beside the bag they had dropped.

*Cough*

Civilian shot their feet, their eyes darting across the apartment. “Who’s there?” Their eyes landed on a shape at their kitchen table. “Show yourself.” They growled as they groped for something, anything on their belt. Anything they could use as a weapon. The shadow in return, put their hands up in surrender. “Calm yourself. I have no interest in a fight.” Yeah right. Why else would they be here? A thief wouldn’t stick around so whoever this was wanted to be seen. So what did they want?

“I’m only here because the boss wants to talk to you, something about two weeks being up? Said you’d know what that means.”

Two weeks? What did that m- oh. Something close to relief bubbled in Civilian’s chest. Supervillain wanted them. That really shouldn’t have been reassuring, but— hold on, why did they want them?

“I… I told them-“

“Look, I don’t care what your excuse is, you’re going to their base. Grab whatever things you need, you’re coming with me.” The person stood, then crossed the room to stand in front of Civilian. Wow, this henchman-person is short.

“I am not short! I am Supervillain’s right hand, and I am not some lowly henchman.” But okay, they weren’t that short, but then again they only came to Civilian’s shoulder! What were they supposed to say?

“You’re not supposed to say anything. And I am a normal height, I’ll have you know.” They growled before not-so-subtly changing the topic to what supplies Civilian might need and basically dragging them back out of their apartment.

It was a quick ride to Supervillain’s base. At least, from what Civilian could tell with a blindfold on. They’d handed off some of the equipment— a set of tweezers and their trauma shears— to be sterilized, and after had been whisked through corridor after corridor until their guide shoved them towards a door and sped off.

But now here they were, in the presence of Supervillain. Answer the questions thoroughly, answer all of them, the right hand had instructed on the way over. Answer the questions thoroughly, answer a-

“I’ll admit, it took me a minute or two after I left before I realized I wasn’t in pain,” the super swiveled in their chair, now facing the poor civilian. “Care to clarify?” They didn’t hesitate with their answer.

“My jump bag has morphine in it. I took a chance you weren’t allergic to it and administered. I hoped you wouldn’t mind.” The civilian set the bag down and began to fidget with the bagged supplies. “Where and how many stitches, again?”

“You don’t remember?” The supervillain had the audacity to sound surprised.

“I’ve been busy.” Their mind whirred through the scenes, one after another. The flashing sirens and radio calls. The chaos and the screams. The anguish and flat-lines.

“Surely you’d remember stitching up someone in your living room.” The supervillain sounded both smug and incredulous in a way that made Civilian’s blood boil. They didn’t dare look at them, else they might get the urge to throw something at their face.

“Look, in the past few days I’ve been in countless living rooms. I’ve been to three different fire scenes and treated numerous burn victims. I’ve been transport and lifeline for six heart attack victims. I have been to over twenty car accidents and encountered far too many DOAs than I’d care to count.” The images flashed through their mind, one haunting face after another. “So many people, too dead, too soon. So forgive me if I don’t remember the one instance that involved you.”

It was only after that they remembered who they were snapping at.

Their hand flew over their mouth— they didn’t mean to say that! Civilian couldn’t help but look at the supervillain, to survey their reaction or out of pure shock, they couldn’t tell.

The supervillain laughed— they were laughing?! What did that mean? Civilian was going to die weren’t they? And even after their laughter died down until it was nothing more than a sly smirk, Civilian knew there would be trouble for their outburst.

“Two on the left arm and one across the ribs. And the last one is here.” They gestured to a spot just above their hip.

Civilian nodded but didn’t move towards them. Where was Right Hand? Where was their equipment? Surely it had been long enough, right? Between the time they had been separated from Right Hand and now, it had easily been a half hour, probably longer. It didn’t take that long to sterilize equipment. Civilian stared at the door, before glancing back to the supervillain. They grimaced. Supervillain seemed a bit annoyed with having to wait. And they were not known as a patient person.

Civilian had the feeling that if Right Hand took too much longer, Civilian would surely pay for it.

I’m not sure where this came from. It was late. I have not proofread. Enjoy. Lmk what y’all think please

~~

The storm drew her on.

She knew she would never make it through the night if she didn’t find shelter. And soon. The storm drew her on.

She shivered as the rain went from heavy drizzle to downpour. She was soaked to the bone, and she didn’t think any amount of warmth would be able to save her if she was out in the weather for much longer. The storm drew her on.

The wind howled, threatening to take her hood and cloak along with it. The lightning lit her way, but only for a moment before she was plunged into full darkness again. The thunder shook the ground so hard she stumbled at times. The storm drew her on.

One hallowed breath after another. She was so close to safety. She could feel it in her bones. But they were lying. The storm drew her on.

She collapsed to the ground in a heap. Where had that light gone to? She watched for it, but it would forever be gone. She crawled on, too weak to stand against the torrent’s blasts any longer. The storm drew her on.

“Need some help?” A voice called from before her. One that held years of experience and enough confidence that she knew he wasn’t lost.

Her voice was long gone, but he had already taken her hand and lifted her to her feet.

She collapsed again, only for her to be kept up by the strong hand. And suddenly he was close, and she, held. The storm would not draw her on anymore.