If The Handcuff Stuff Doesnt Make Sense Oh Well - Tumblr Posts

Small Mercies

(Context: Hero is restrained in a previous event and abandoned, Villain comes back to find them post-event)

[Warnings: blood, graphic fatal injury (of unnamed characters), helplessness/desperation]

The building was far quieter than it had been a few hours prior. The villain walked into the decimated room, scanning for the hero that they had come to collect. The floor was covered in debris, tables turned over and chairs askew with broken legs. They turned towards the center of the room, where they had gotten Hero cuffed to a vertical bar that used to hold a booth in place. Villain was moderately surprised to find they were still there, though not for lack of trying, if the ring of bruises adorning their wrist like a bracelet was any indication.

They were unmoving, head resting on the beam and cuffed hand slung slightly in the air.

Impressively, they appeared to be sleeping.

That just wouldn’t do.

Villain kicked a piece of debris and they startled, eyes shooting open and locking on the criminal. For a second, they attempted to scrabble back before a glance at the cuff hooked into a rivet hole had them going still again.

Villain waited until it appeared they had some semblance of their bearings in the waking world before they continued to approach. Hero’s eyes never left theirs, tracking their movements like a cornered animal.

Villain stopped cautiously, completely out of reach, but the hero made no move to do anything but glare.

Part of the villain had expected them to start throwing daggers the second they made themselves known. It was their specialty, after all. A quick glance to their belt revealed the answer as to why they hadn’t.

Every loop and sheathe was empty. All their blades were gone.

As if sensing the impending question in the Villain’s gaze, the hero flicked their eyes behind them and to the right. When Villain’s gaze followed, they saw several bodies strewn on the floor, each impaled by a knife or two.

There also appeared to be a rather fresh puddle of blood in front of the restrained Hero. Following the smear of it around the beam, another body laid, this one clawed and disheveled. Sticking out of its windpipe was none other than a fountain pen.

Clearly, Villain had not been the first to come back for Hero.

Upon closer inspection, the hero looked absolutely exhausted. Crusted blood covered their free hand and a small amount was sprinkled on their face and smeared—like they had tried to wipe it away. Their eyes were wary, but in a way that suggested they could do nothing to act on their caution.

Villain knelt, ignoring the biohazard on the floor and taking the metal cuff in his hand. The lock was scratched and the links were scored but they were still functional—again, obviously not for lack of trying.

“Is this thing made of titanium or something?” Hero joked weakly.

Villain shot a quick look to the hero, their posture still completely defensive, knees drawn up to their chest. They pulled out a key, inserting it into the side of the cuffs that was attached to the beam. A twist and a click later and Hero was no longer tethered to the rebar.

They didn’t pull their hand back immediately as Villain might have expected, instead leaving it limp, held up only by the grip Villain maintained on the metal. Villain reached for their other hand, pulling it from their knee and locking the open side of the cuff over Hero’s previously free wrist.

They let them, but the hatred in their gaze intensified greatly as the metal cinched closed.

Unbothered, Villain produced the key again, and Hero eyed them suspiciously as they slid it into the mechanism clamped over their mottled wrist. After freeing the injured hand, Villain rose to their feet, pulling lightly at the side of the cuff they still held.

Hero struggled to their feet, bracing themselves on the beam for a minute before allowing themselves to be led away by the wrist.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That was…not what they had expected.

They had had plenty of time to imagine what would happen when—if the villain came back. Terrible thoughts interrupted only by the terrible reality of another group closing in.

When they realized they had thrown their final blade, they knew that it was over. They may have been able to stop one person with their bare hands and some pocket junk, but Villain was different.

The adrenaline that had allowed them to lodge a writing utensil into that trachea was long gone. In its wake, it left total and utter exhaustion.

For better or for worse, Villain seemed to know that.

Hero was taken from the building, confused by the horrors that hadn’t been realized, and dreading the terrors that might yet await.

Small Mercies

(Context: Hero is restrained in a previous event and abandoned, Villain comes back to find them post-event)

[Warnings: blood, graphic fatal injury (of unnamed characters), helplessness/desperation]

The building was far quieter than it had been a few hours prior. The villain walked into the decimated room, scanning for the hero that they had come to collect. The floor was covered in debris, tables turned over and chairs askew with broken legs. They turned towards the center of the room, where they had gotten Hero cuffed to a vertical bar that used to hold a booth in place. Villain was moderately surprised to find they were still there, though not for lack of trying, if the ring of bruises adorning their wrist like a bracelet was any indication.

They were unmoving, head resting on the beam and cuffed hand slung slightly in the air.

Impressively, they appeared to be sleeping.

That just wouldn’t do.

Villain kicked a piece of debris and they startled, eyes shooting open and locking on the criminal. For a second, they attempted to scrabble back before a glance at the cuff hooked into a rivet hole had them going still again.

Villain waited until it appeared they had some semblance of their bearings in the waking world before they continued to approach. Hero’s eyes never left theirs, tracking their movements like a cornered animal.

Villain stopped cautiously, completely out of reach, but the hero made no move to do anything but glare.

Part of the villain had expected them to start throwing daggers the second they made themselves known. It was their specialty, after all. A quick glance to their belt revealed the answer as to why they hadn’t.

Every loop and sheathe was empty. All their blades were gone.

As if sensing the impending question in the Villain’s gaze, the hero flicked their eyes behind them and to the right. When Villain’s gaze followed, they saw several bodies strewn on the floor, each impaled by a knife or two.

There also appeared to be a rather fresh puddle of blood in front of the restrained Hero. Following the smear of it around the beam, another body laid, this one clawed and disheveled. Sticking out of its windpipe was none other than a fountain pen.

Clearly, Villain had not been the first to come back for Hero.

Upon closer inspection, the hero looked absolutely exhausted. Crusted blood covered their free hand and a small amount was sprinkled on their face and smeared—like they had tried to wipe it away. Their eyes were wary, but in a way that suggested they could do nothing to act on their caution.

Villain knelt, ignoring the biohazard on the floor and taking the metal cuff in his hand. The lock was scratched and the links were scored but they were still functional—again, obviously not for lack of trying.

“Is this thing made of titanium or something?” Hero joked weakly.

Villain shot a quick look to the hero, their posture still completely defensive, knees drawn up to their chest. They pulled out a key, inserting it into the side of the cuffs that was attached to the beam. A twist and a click later and Hero was no longer tethered to the rebar.

They didn’t pull their hand back immediately as Villain might have expected, instead leaving it limp, held up only by the grip Villain maintained on the metal. Villain reached for their other hand, pulling it from their knee and locking the open side of the cuff over Hero’s previously free wrist.

They let them, but the hatred in their gaze intensified greatly as the metal cinched closed.

Unbothered, Villain produced the key again, and Hero eyed them suspiciously as they slid it into the mechanism clamped over their mottled wrist. After freeing the injured hand, Villain rose to their feet, pulling lightly at the side of the cuff they still held.

Hero struggled to their feet, bracing themselves on the beam for a minute before allowing themselves to be led away by the wrist.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That was…not what they had expected.

They had had plenty of time to imagine what would happen when—if the villain came back. Terrible thoughts interrupted only by the terrible reality of another group closing in.

When they realized they had thrown their final blade, they knew that it was over. They may have been able to stop one person with their bare hands and some pocket junk, but Villain was different.

The adrenaline that had allowed them to lodge a writing utensil into that trachea was long gone. In its wake, it left total and utter exhaustion.

For better or for worse, Villain seemed to know that.

Hero was taken from the building, confused by the horrors that hadn’t been realized, and dreading the terrors that might yet await.