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First attempt at writing

Conscious was a hard surface to swim up to.  He fought, how long for he wasn’t sure, but eventually, he came to realize that his head hurt.  And so did his legs.  And his back.  And his one good arm.  He tried wiggling the fingers on his prosthetic and found, even though the connection to the nerves wasn’t very strong, he could still move it.  He forced open his gritty eyelids and saw darkness.

“Fuck, I really hope I’m not blind.”  He muttered.

“Oh no, my dear.”  Purred a silky voice.  “I wouldn’t do that to you just yet.”

Michael groaned, remembering.  He was upright, chained to some medieval looking device where he could be more easily tortured.  “Oh right.  You again.”

“Come now, darling,” A finger stroked his cheek, careful of the cuts and bruises that marred his beautiful face.  He really planned on giving what he got when he finally got free.  “Don’t tell me you’ve grown bored of me already.”

“How else would you describe the same shit over and over again?”  Michael said.  “At least add a little variety to your act.  Punches and knives get old so easily.”

“Variety?”  The silky voice chuckled.  “And here I thought I was entertaining you.  I thought you screamed well enough for me last night.”

“I live to please.”  Rolled off his tongue before he could stop it.  He groaned inwardly.  He was in for it now.  Damn his stupid mouth.

A kiss was pressed to his neck, over a tender bruise.  Michael fought to keep the hiss from his lips.

“You needn’t suffer so, love.”  The voice was in his ear.  “Just tell me where the diamonds are.”

“I stole those myself.”  Michael said.  “I get the rewards from them, not you.”

“Reward?”  A chuckle sent a chill down his spine. “I’m simply giving them back to their original owner.  That’s reward enough.”

A sharp pain blossomed in his neck. Blood welled up and started to drip down.  A tongue flicked over the open wound.

“Yeah well, reward enough doesn’t put food on the table.”  Michael grunted.

“If you asked, we could always assist in getting government assistance for your family.”  The eyes behind the mask finally came into his vision.  Leering over his whole body, making Michael wish for the strength to move.  He hated when a hero had this kind of power over him.

“While I’m sitting in prison, I presume.”  Michael spat.

“Well, you would have to pay your debt to society.”  The purple eyes silhouetted against the black make-up danced with delight.

“Always hated that damn phrase.”  Michael muttered.  “I don’t owe anyone shit.”

An exaggerated pout.  “You owe the owner of the jewel shop his diamonds, don’t you?”

“I only owe my fence those diamonds.”  He shuddered, feeling the knife toy at his good arm.  He couldn’t show how scared he was to lose the other arm.  “That way, he can owe me the money I’m due.”

The knife trailed down to his wrist, where the shackle rested.  Any more pressure and he might have ribbons instead of ligaments.

“Come now, darling.”  The purring was back.  “Don’t you think that’s a little unfair?  After all, the jeweler didn’t do you any harm.  Simply trying to make an honest living.”

“When I find a jeweler who doesn’t lie to his customers, cheat his customers out of their hard-earned money, or buy blood diamonds to finance their own greed instead of helping people, I’ll stop stealing from them.”

He couldn’t stop the scream that forced itself out of his lips, fear loosening his tongue, as the knife ripped open his hand and all the way down his middle finger.

“Naughty boy.”  The purple eyes teased with a sickening delight as a tongue licked at black lipsticked lips.  “You don’t exactly have the moral high ground here.”

“Coming from the freak who’s got a civilian chained up when you have no actual evidence that I’ve committed a crime.”  Michael said.

“Freak?  I’m no freak.  Oh my dear, you are absolutely correct.  I have no manners apparently.  I haven’t introduced myself.  You may call me Endeavor.  Such as, I “endeavor” to make you talk.”

“Yeah cute pun.”  Michael said, sarcasm flowing as freely as the blood drawn from his body.  “Never heard anything like that before.”

“Oh hush, I like it.”  Endeavor brought Michael’s bloody hand to his lips.  “Though, at the moment, I’m a bit more concerned with what you like though.  We know how you lost the other one.  That was the night your fiance died, correct?”

“Don’t you dare speak his name.”  Michael growled low in his throat, trying to show that he was still threatening, even chained up.

Endeavor chuckled humorlessly.  “Well, then, I think we may have found your weak point.”

The knife slashed through what was left of his shirt, revealing the tattoo over his heart.  He had gotten it the night of the funeral.  It was the only thing he had left of Sam.

The knife pressed into the tattoo, not hard enough to break skin, but enough to make Michael’s blood run cold.

“Now let me ask you again.  Where are those diamonds?”

Second Attempt at Writing

Hey guys!  I’m back!  I’m sorry this took so long, I work retail and this weekend was hell, and my depression has been seriously kicking my ass.  So this... this isn’t my best work.  I tried really hard to hit all the notes I wanted to, but we’ll just have to see.  So enjoy, if you can, my continuation of part one.

By the way, @winedark-whump This is mostly because of you.  Enjoy!

Line Break (please pretend I can’t figure out how to put in an actual line)

“A thief like you must be very brave.”  Endeavor purred, the knife poised right over Michael’s heart.  “You know the consequences of your actions.”

“Fortune favors the brave.”  Michael stuttered out, desperately trying to fake a confidence he didn’t have the strength for.

“Oh love, stop it.”  Endeavor sighed, as if dealing with an unruly child.  “We both know that you would truly do anything to make sure I don’t ruin this lovely piece of art.  I certainly hope I don’t have to; it’s a very touching piece.”

Endeavor ran his thumb over the heartbeat lines, then tracing over the words Michael had been able to piece together from different letters and scraps.  Feeling Endeavor’s finger trace over Sam’s handwriting “I will always love you” broke what defiance he had left. 

“Please.  Please don’t.”  Michael hated how pathetic he sounded but he knew Endeavor would rip through the last piece he had of his love.  After everything, he couldn’t lose anything else.  “I’ll do anything.”

“So you will tell me where the diamonds are?”  Endeavor asked.

“I’ll return them.  All of them.  You can count, I’ll give every one of them back.”

Endeavor pouted.  “Oh I’m afraid that’s not enough, my love.  I can’t trust you not to run away the first chance you get.  Or to lead us straight into an ambush.”

Endeavor lowered the knife to right underneath the edges of the ring, then dragged it across his chest.  Nausea rolled in Michael’s stomach, as fresh blood dripped down his chest.  In the back of his mind, a tiny flame ignited.

“I take it the ring was meant to be his, am I correct?”  Endeavor smiled, though it seemed more a grimace.  “Obviously, the handwriting is his, I’m assuming the peaks and lows are his heartbeat or perhaps yours when you said his name, all enshrined in a wedding ring.  Very touching.  Did you design it yourself?”

Michael could only nod, his voice having left him.

“Lovely.  Oh how I wish that love could’ve been directed towards all humanity instead of one person.”  Endeavor placed a gentle kiss over the last words Sam ever said to him.

With an explosive burst, his previous defiance came back full force.  That tattoo was not meant for anyone else, it was meant for him.  He wouldn’t let anyone else hurt him like that again.  He had lost too much already.  He couldn’t lose his self-respect.  Sam would never have forgiven him.

“Don’t touch me!”  Michael threw all of his body weight against Endeavor, finally finding his voice again.  The hero stumbled back in shock, as if unable to comprehend that Michael wouldn’t submit.  “Don’t you dare touch me, you deluded power-grubbing asshole.  You are not my love, you are not my light, you are not the reason I go on living!  The cops may allow you to try and coerce me into confessing but you will not touch me anymore!  I’m not some porcelain doll for you to fantasize over!”

Somehow, in his long career of stealing from practically everyone and causing untold mayhem and panic, Michael had never been outright stabbed.  Sure, he’d  been shot at, burned, and had his left arm blown off, but never outright stabbed. 

Michael didn’t even know he’d been stabbed until he saw the knife in his stomach.  At first, he’d thought Endeavor had taken his advice and changed his lineup of torture with a strong electrostatic charge.  But when he’d looked down, he found a three inch knife sticking out of his stomach.

“You would kill me,” Michael coughed, feeling heat build in his stomach as if he was walking the very face of the sun, “over some lousy diamonds?”

“Kill you?  Never, love, never.”  Endeavor pulled the knife out swiftly, a guttural scream following out of Michael’s mouth.  “Do you know why I got into this business?  My gift is helping people, just as yours is destroying everything you touch.”

Endeavor put his hand over the stab wound and glowed purple.  Michael started to feel the nerves and muscles trying to knit themselves back together.

“You see,” Endeavor spoke as if Michael wasn’t screaming bloody murder under his touch, “my gift is not meant for hospitals.  I don’t have the gift of anesthesia like many other healers do.  I can stitch people back together after they’ve been hurt but unfortunately they feel every moment of it.  That’s why I got into the hero business.  I could get information that no one else can without actually endangering lives.”

Michael forced himself not to throw up, not to show that much weakness.  He wouldn’t give Endeavor the satisfaction.

“Oh my darling, I know it hurts.”  Endeavor gently ran his bloody hand down Michael’s face.  “Tell you what, you promise to be good and I won’t ruin that heartfelt reminder of the only creature who would ever love you.”

Michael took what little strength he had and glared at Endeavor.  

“I think I’ll take that as a no.”  Endeavor sighed.  “Such a pity.  It really is beautiful, darling.”

Endeavor pulled his hand back, knife poised to tear Michael’s chest to shreds.

A familiar whooshing sound filled Michael’s ears.  Then a scream.  It took Michael a moment to realize the scream didn’t come from him.  Endeavor dropped the knife, but held another blade.  No, a blade had been thrown into his hand.  A very particular blade.  Familiar, even.

“If you don’t mind, I’d really rather you let him go.”

I doubt anyone will really see this but I need to post it so y’all can understand the stuff I’ve got planned for Whumptober

“If you don’t mind, I’d really rather you let him go.”

He’d never been happier to see his new partner.  Her curly blonde hair was tied back in a ponytail, she dressed in her normal uniform of dark green and black, her quiver hanging loosely from her belt, her face masked.

“You Heroes.”  Dark Arrow sneered.  “Always acting like you’re so high and mighty.  I see you’re not above torture.  Luckily, neither am I.”

She threw another knife, hitting her target once more.  This time, Endeavor dropped to one knee after Arrow’s knife found itself tearing through his patellar tendon.

Arrow ran forward to Michael’s chains, slashing through them with unparalleled accuracy.  He all but collapsed into her arms, his body unable to support him anymore.  She surveyed the damage and frowned in disgust.

“Were you trying to lose the other one?”  Arrow scoffed.  “I know I caused you to lose the first one but seriously, losing the other to spite me is going too far.”

“Oh really?”  Michael smirked.  “I thought it just landed on the edge of tasteful.”

Dark Arrow snickered.

“How touching.”  Endeavor grunted, trying to heal the wound in his knee.  “The traitor comes to the rescue of a second-rate thief.”

“I’d rather come to his rescue that yours, jackass.”  Arrow shot back, sweeping Michael off his feet.  He was so tired that he didn’t protest Arrow carrying him bridal style.

As she ran, Michael’s consciousness fluttered, missing Arrow’s nigh frightened looks at him.  But Dark Arrow was good at her job, always had been, and easily evaded capture until they were outside again.

“Where- where are we?”  Michael gasped out, as if he had been running with her.

“Middle of buttfuck nowhere.”  Arrow set him down, gently, against what he thought to be a rock wall.  “Technically, that place isn’t even on a map.  Went to three different Hero Hideouts looking for you.  You just seem to be a rare commodity to them.”

“And Endeavor called me second-rate.”  Michael proudly smiled, then doubled over coughing.

“Easy, there Nyx.  You took a hard beating.”  Arrow said, gently helping him up.

“Definitely at least four-star torture.”  Michael groaned.  “Would’ve given it five but the repetitiveness of the knives and punches got old after a while.”

Arrow forced a small smile, though Michael knew it was fake.  She was still unused to how brutal their world could truly be.

“Are we safe here?”  He asked.

“For the moment.”  Arrow replied.  “This is the best I can do.  I’ll put up a couple reflector shields but I don’t have many.  I didn’t want to carry too much and not be able to carry you.  My quiver may not hold arrows anymore but the shit it does gets heavy after a while.  I don’t have super strength, you know.”

“Then take off your mask.”  He said.  “If we’re safe here, then you don’t need to be masked around me.  We’re supposed to be partners.  We have to trust each other.”

Arrow bit her lip, as if internally debating, looked away and didn’t answer.

“Fayelin.”

Her real name caught her by surprise.

“Please.”

Fayelin’s shoulders slumped as she gently tugged the black material down her face.  With a jolt, he was reminded of just how young she was.  Without her either of her masks on, she looked her actual age of nineteen.

“You’re staring at me again.”  Fayelin scolded, blushing.  For someone who had all but grown up in the limelight, she hated being the center of attention for too long.

“Sorry.”  He said, his voice no louder than a whisper.  It seems that simple argument had sapped his entire strength.

“I’ll start treating those.  I’m no doc, but I know enough field healing in order to kickstart the process.”

“Shields first.”  He reminded her.

Fayelin cursed under her breath.  “Okay, shields first, then I’ll start on the lacerations.”

He meant to nod, to give her some words of encouragement, but the pull of unconsciousness became too strong and sleep descended like an axe.

(Don’t know how to insert line break so assume it’s there)

The cave she and her mentor used to camp out in hadn’t changed in the years since she last visited it.  It was still pretty dark, smelled damp even though there was no water, and had a very small opening.  It had been the best way he could spend time with her while still staying close to his work.  She had just been a kid then.  She wasn’t one now.

Setting up reflector shields was second nature to her, that being one of the first lessons she ever learned as a Hero.  Normally, she put them on herself so she could blend in with her surroundings, but they could easily be used to reflect the area around them.  This way, unless someone was specifically looking for the edge where the reflection ended, no one would notice that the landscape around them was simply a reflection of the world around them.  Killian had told her that no one else knew of this cave, that he had discovered it by himself, and that he had kept it secret to share it only with her.  She didn’t know if that was entirely true, but she had trusted her former mentor so she hoped she had answered Nyx’s question honestly.

She returned to find Nyx asleep, curled up against the wall, his dark hair nigh matted to his skin with blood and sweat, a frown etched into his face.  He must be in terrible pain, she thought.  So she pulled the first aid kit out of her trusty quiver and got to work.

@winedark-whump

Whumptober Prompt #2 and #6- Explosion and Dragged Away

@winedark-whump you wanted to know who Sam was, and how he died.  Your wish is granted.

A high pitched ringing was going back in forth from one side of his head to the other. He blinked slowly, the darkness mixing in with colors, until he could finally distinguish the sky from the buildings under it. The ringing shifted, assaulting both ears now that he could focus better. He tried to pull himself up, they needed to go… somewhere. He wasn’t sure exactly where but he knew it wasn’t here. Here had fallen debris all around, lots of little fires, tons of smoke, and was that blood? Not a good place to be. He tried to lift himself by his arms but fell to his left side. He looked down and saw dirt. He frowned. Dirt? Shouldn’t there be something there that’s not dirt? His eyes slowly traveled upwards and saw what was left of his left arm. Memory hit him like a freight train.

Ever since Arrow had lost her Hero, she’d become almost as fanatic as the rest of them. Phoenix and Mirror Mirror had just been causing a little mayhem, nothing too big, just a casual museum heist. They’d hoped not to run into any Heroes but together, they were unstoppable so it didn’t really matter. It seemed, however, that someone was dumb enough to try.

“Fucking lousy criminals.” Arrow sneered, Michael catching her first arrow from up in the rafters of the museum. He knew that was merely a warning shot, Arrow always hit her targets. “Always have to ruin everyone else’s day. This artwork is supposed to inspire love for humanity, for life. And taking it just leave those without. How cruel.”

Michael clenched his fist, her arrow exploding in his hand. He sneered right back at her, “Lousy Heroes. Always ruining our day.”

Arrow rolled her eyes and notched another arrow, the tip glinting in the light. Michael snarled, recognizing one of her cracked diamond arrows. Those were a bitch to get out, as if you weren’t careful, the diamond would shatter in you, forcing you to go to a hospital or risk having diamonds enter your bloodstream.

Michael grabbed a button out of his pocket, he always kept spares in case he needed a weapon, or more importantly, if one popped off his corset. He charged up, and threw it upwards. He wasn’t Arrow, with the gift of impossible accuracy, but he was a pretty good shot. She dived as the button exploded, using the rafters as a gymnastics bar, swinging herself down to their level.

He motioned for Sam to take the props and leave the ringers behind, while he charged straight at Arrow. He had to admit, some of the best parts of a classic museum heist is leaving the fake artwork behind so cops have no idea what they’ve stolen.

She jumped back at his straightforward attack, knowing he only needed one slip up to get all five fingers around her. He wouldn’t kill the little shit, but singeing her a little wouldn’t be too bad.

Suddenly, there was a rope around his neck.

“We’re taking this outside so you don’t break shit!” Arrow shouted, throwing him through a window.

His back hit the glass first, and he felt it crack underneath his weight. The shards embedded themselves in his back and legs as the force propelled him through the now shattered window. Somehow, he landed on his right foot before crumpling to the ground. Pain flirted with his body but never truly stayed in one place too long so he knew nothing was broken. Trying to ignore the bruises forming all over him, he pulled himself up, knowing in the back of his head it had been her ability to accurately throw him that had saved him from permanent damage.

A sharp cry brought his attention back to the shattered window. Sam had Arrow pinned to the edge, nearly succeeding in throwing her off. She threw a punch Sam easily deflected, tried to kick Sam’s feet out from under him which he easily blocked, then grabbed an arrow from her quiver and sprayed him with a foamy substance, which caused him to pull back and which sent herself over the edge. She grabbed onto one of the banners advertising the very painting Michael was stealing, flipping and landing without any injury to her perfect high-heels.

“You know, for someone who doesn’t want to break shit, you seemed to have no problem throwing me out a window.” Michael said, grabbing a couple pieces of broken glass around him. He charged them up slowly, knowing glass was a very dangerous weapon for him, as too much power would cause the glass to break and simply latch onto the nearest surface.

“Better to replace a window than mourn a priceless Monet.” Arrow fired back, notching another arrow.

“It’s Mo-ney, you idiot.” Michael jeered as it were a schoolyard tiff. “He was French, the T is silent.”

“Whatever!” She shouted back, clearly embarrassed. She fired her first arrow, easily and quickly notching another, and Michael threw his first piece. They hit each other straight on, resulting in a small explosion. Arrow narrowed her eyes at him, and smirked.

Then Sam hit her from behind with what was left of a nearby lamppost.

Arrow collapsed to the ground, seemingly unconscious. Michael stared.

Sam jogged over to him, and kissed him lightly. “Hey, babe.”

Michael cocked an eyebrow.

“Hmm? Oh that was easy. Once I copied her, I figured out her weakness. Hyperfocus. Don’t know if she’s ADHD but she can’t focus on the two of us at once without putting one of us on the backburner of her mind.”

“You’re the best, babe.” Michael smiled. “How’d I end up with such an amazing partner like you?”

“You’re a thief.” Sam smirked. “You stole my heart.”

“Would you still love me if I never gave it back?” Michael teased, the familiar words rolling off his tongue like raindrops off a leaf.

“I will always love you.” Sam whispered.

Michael gently kissed his fiancé. “I lo-”

Before he could finish, an arrow shaped like a boxing glove hit him in the mouth. A second with a net attached to it hit Sam, slamming him into a nearby wall. Sam’s head lolled haphazardly, blood trickling down a cut on his face.

“Sam!”

A punch to the face sent him reeling. A punch to the stomach caused him to double over. Arrow then brought her clasped fists on Michael’s neck, sending him to the ground with a grunt. A sharp stiletto dug itself into his left wrist, hitting the ligaments in between his hand and arm. Instinctively, he had let go of the piece of glass he was holding but found himself unable to stop the charge, as all five fingers were being forced upon the ground with the toe of her boot.

“You gotta let me up.” Michael gasped through the pain. “I can’t turn my power off.”

“Impossible.” Arrow snapped. “I’ve severed your median nerve and your transverse carpal ligament. There’s no way you can be using your gift. Even you’re human.”

The ground beneath the glass began to shift into a more fuchsia type color.

“Seriously!” Michael implored, panic starting to seep into his voice. “I don’t know how but I can’t turn it off! You gotta let me up!”

Arrow simply notched another arrow, this one tipped with what looked like a stunner.

“Liar.”

“Please!” Michael begged. The concrete beneath him began to crack, fuchsia energy building up underneath the surface.

“No!” Arrow screamed, and for a second, they locked eyes, and all Michael saw was a frightened child behind her mask. “All you criminals do is lie, cheat, and steal to get what you want. You can never trust a criminal. They’re incapable of trying to do anything good! Their hearts are black, their minds are corrupted, and their gifts are evil incarnate! Only those who use their gifts for the betterment of all humanity can truly have a heart!”

Unable to fight the growing power in his palm, Michael forced out a small breath. Small fissures raced down his hand, across his whole arm, bleeding raw energy. Arrow gasped at the sight, and looked at him, fear evident on her face. Helpless against what was about to happen, he simply gathered what was left of his strength. He had to release the energy before it got worse, and threatened Sam. Above all, if he got captured, if he got killed for killing a Hero, it didn’t matter. No matter what, he had to save Sam.

So, he simply… let go.

It seemed his left arm just couldn’t contain the power.

Ears still ringing, fires still burning, smoke still choking the breath out of his lungs, he forced himself to stand. He had to find Sam. They had to get out of there. He didn’t see Arrow but that doesn’t necessarily mean she was dead or gone. Heroes had a nasty habit of appearing out of nowhere when you least expect them. Horrifically off balance without his left arm, he turned to try and get a glimpse of the wall Sam had been thrown into.

He stumbled around for what seemed like an eternity, coughing up who knows what, nearly falling every two steps, until he finally found a collapsed wall with a familiar glove sticking out of it.

“Sam!” Michael shouted, and collapsed near his fiancé. Sam’s eyes were closed, with blood trickling out of his mouth, head leaning to his left side. “Sam, come on, wake up, we gotta get outta here.”

Sam didn’t stir.

You’re gonna make me do it, huh?” Michael gasped, dread settling into his stomach. “Fine but you don’t get to yell at me when we get home.”

Still nothing.

“Black is the color of my true love's hair,” Michael crooned. He wasn’t the best singer but Sam always loved it. Michael had never done it in public. It was their little secret. “His face so soft and wondrous fair, the purest eyes, and the gentlest hands, I love the ground whereon he stands, I love the ground… C’mon Sam, wake up! Please wake up!”

He shook Sam by the shoulder, and Sam’s head rolled limply to the side.

Michael screamed.

The very same lamppost that he’d used to knock out Arrow was now embedded in his skull. Blood poured from the wound, slowly, as if the motion itself had no life left.

“Sam! Please, no, Sam, please don’t be dead, please, don’t be dead.” Michael screamed. “You can’t leave me here alone. Please, I love you, Sam, I love you! I love you more than life itself! Please. You can’t be gone, you just can’t!”

“Phoenix, c’mon, you gotta get out of here.” A new voice said, tugging on his jacket. This one sounded young, and very, very scared. “You gotta move! They’re going to arrest you!”

He ignored her.

“Please, Phoenix, you’ve got to move! This is my fault, not yours. You can’t stay here!”

He whipped around, his left arm dead weight. There stood Arrow, covered in blood, bruises but with an unblemished face. She looked shell-shocked, as if unable to comprehend the reality of the situation.

“Don’t die with him. Please.”

The “please” shattered what was left of his heart. A scream escaped his lips without conscious thought, a sound he never knew he could make, and he flung the broken-hearted shell of what used to be Michael Winters upon the chest of his dead love.

“No, I’m not letting you take the fall for this. This was my doing, not yours. We’re leaving now!”

With a strength Michael didn’t know was possible, Arrow lifted him under the arms and heaved. Michael, unexpectedly limp in her arms at first, lurched away from Sam.

“No! Don’t take me from him, please, he needs me, no, no!”

“I’m sorry!” Arrow shouted, but continued to haul him away.

Little fuchsia sparks flew past his fingers and out of his stump. “Stop! Let me go! Sam, I won’t leave you! I won’t leave you, Sam, I promise! Let me go!”

He fought against her hold but she had leverage against him so all he could do was skid his feet along the road and try to elbow her as she dragged him away. He got in one good shot to her ribs, eliciting a hard cry. He went to aim for that same spot.

“I’m sorry.” She murmured, then he felt a strong electrostatic charge and finally succumbed back down into the never-ending darkness.

Whumptober Prompt #7 Isolation and #9 Shackled

@winedark-whump So here’s a bit more about a certain Hero who needs some more character development.  I hope you enjoy it.  Dammit all, I hope you see it.  I have no idea how long this unflagged status will last me.

Line

Fayelin tested out the restraints she was locked in for what must’ve been the millionth time.  She knew she had been strapped down for her own safety, but getting out of these restraints was her top priority these past few days.  At least, she thought so.  The days blurred together without sunlight, she wasn’t sure how long she had left, but it couldn’t be too much longer.  They were already at the torture bit, and the torture bit was always last, according to her friends.

She kept her breathing as controlled as she could.  She could do this.  Killian wouldn’t have recommended her for the higher level courses if she couldn’t handle it.  Sure, minor Heroes-in-training weren’t allowed to take these courses because they were too young, but Killian knew her limits.  He had pulled a few strings to get her into this test.  He believed in her, she couldn’t let him down.

The cacophony of sounds was awful, but bearable, at least at first.  She knew it would get worse.  But this exercise was about being able to withstand unbearable torture, and to be able to escape when the time came.  She hadn’t been given permission to escape yet, but she was allowed to figure a way out beforehand.  A Hero should always be able to escape any situation, with as few injuries as possible.  That’s what the whole test was, you had to escape capture, with off duty Heroes pretending to be villains, after being able to withstand torture.

The sounds were growing louder.  There were newly added screams, screams she could’ve sworn she recognized.  She could’ve sworn she heard one of her best friends, Wonder, it sounded just like her.  They were definitely pulling from her personal background, that was definitely Gold, followed closely by Glitter.  She was rather close with the twins.  She supposed it was be able to withstand others getting tortured as well, more than one Villain tortured two heroes at once by torturing only one and making the other watch.  She could withstand that easily.  As much as she loved her friends, just hearing them scream was nothing.  Villains tortured, that was a fact of their lifestyle. Screams were just a way she could tell they were still alive.  Killian had told her several times to listen to how he screamed, as he would communicate to her through them.

Speak of the devil, Soldier’s screams were coming through now.  She wondered how they had gotten his screams because he wasn’t communicating, that was simply pain.  Fayelin blocked out the noise, after all, it was just noise, and went back to the restraints.  Thick iron wrapped solidly around her wrists with a thick chain wrapping around the legs of the bed.  It was made to withstand those with super strength but her strength was not her greatest ally here.  Her mind was.

“Remember little one, a Hero’s power can be their strength and weakness, only a Hero’s mind is their true strength.”

Killian was right after all.  Some Villains could take or copy abilities, but no one could take someone’s mind.  She just had to focus.  Killian had taught her to pick locks without her gift.  She simply needed something long and sharp, like one of the pins in her hair.  Problem was getting it.  She couldn’t lift her arms very high, her legs had weights on them, her hips were tied down with rope, and she wasn’t allowed to get off the bed until release was granted.  Her biggest advantage was how tiny she was, no matter how much she hated being so small.  If she played her cards right, she could slip between the ropes and slid herself into a position where she could grab a hairpin.  So she flexed some of her leg muscles, pulling on the ropes tautness.  When she felt her opening, she went for it.  She slid through the ropes, and got her hand to her left wrist, pulling a nonessential hairpin from her hair.  She always kept a few extra that didn’t keep up her ridiculous hairdo.  Logically, she knew her hairdo marked her status as a Sidekick, and Killian had spent a lot of time designing it, but the minute she became her own Hero, she was changing it.  She looked more like a sci-fi character than a Sidekick.

She hid the hairpin in her hand, just in case.  Then she drowned out the screams, she drowned out the crashing, the screeching, the breaking glass, the breaking of bones and focused.  Killian was trusting her to prove that he hadn’t made a mistake taking her on so early.  Other Heroes has whispered she wasn’t ready, that Killian was mad for taking a sidekick so young, that she couldn’t compete with her peers.  She couldn’t wait until she wiped those smirks off their faces.

“Heroes are now allowed to fight their way out of Caina.”  A loudspeaker spoke.  “If medical assistance is needed, then please contact Heroes before the rendezvous point is reached.”

She easily picked the lock of the left chain, then the right.  She kept the weights on her feet, to further her impact if she ran into anyone with invulnerability or super strength.  She was small, so she needed every advantage.  Once she broke out of the cell, a simple task with her gift pinpointing the systems weaknesses, she easily ran down the corridors.  She had all but grown up in Caina, where she was allowed to go anyway.  No one except a few Heroes were allowed to the lower levels (as that was where they kept unredeemable Villains, those with high body counts and usually personal vendettas against Heroes.  The two Killian had put down there had killed more than one Hero).  So working her way through was easier, she had no problems finding wherever she wanted to go.

Her first problem was Jerry.  That wasn’t his name, but she couldn’t pronounce his very Russian Hero name, but she thought he looked like a Jerry so Jerry it was.  Jerry had gravitational density manipulation, so he could give himself super strength when he wanted to, which was often his main weapon.

“I’m glad to see you out, little one, but I’m afraid this is the end of the line.”  Jerry cooed.

She growled. She hated when they treated her like a little kid.  But it did give her one great advantage.  They treated her like a little kid in fights as well.  She was often underestimated.

So when Jerry made an obvious feint to her right, she used his own momentum against him, flipping herself up using his arm and bringing her legs down  on the back of his neck.  She didn’t need to knock him fully unconscious, she just needed to run fast enough away that he couldn’t catch her.  So after making contact, she used the movement to propel herself forward and she made it past him.

Two more corridors to get through.  She could hear and feel the last Hero she would see inside Caina.  She snickered.  She’d nicknamed him Marshmallow because he was so soft and gooey on the inside, especially with children, and had the intelligence of a sugar molecule.  He used to give all the little Sidekicks or minor Heroes-in-training rides on his back when their Heroes were busy.  He was a solid mass of blue skin, muscles, and a mouth he couldn’t quite close.  She always thought of that old comic book series, back when those with unnatural abilities were considered fantasy.  Grundy, she believed he was called.  He would be easy enough, as she wouldn’t make the mistake everyone else makes when facing him.  Fighting him was unneccessary and stupid, it just wore you out and that’s how he caught his criminals.  He simply outlasted them in strength.  All she had to do was keep moving forward.

“Stop little one.”  He grumbled, raising his fists above his head.

She slid underneath his feet, unable to watch the confusion on his face.  Once through, she scrambled to her feet and kept running.  She was almost through to the end of the test, dodging explosions.  There were no mines in Caina, just in case some random civilian came wandering in, as this base wasn’t on a map to protect the people living here.  So that meant that other Heroes with gifts similar to hers would be launching projectiles ranging from cannonball size to actual missiles.  So once she made it to the open clearing that they used to hide the base, she turned around to see the five projectiles heading toward her.  Those were easy enough to dodge with her gift, after all, she never missed a step.  Dodging an explosion was simply a matter of jumping off debris at the right time and only putting a certain amount of weight down at a time.  That had been one of the first ways Killian had tested out the extent of her powers.

She made it to the end of the clearing, and found the rendezvous point.  Killian, and three other Heroes were waiting for their Sidekicks, with The Administrator.  She didn’t see any other Sidekicks but that didn’t mean she was first.  Once The Administrator said you passed, Heroes were allowed to leave to celebrate.  She skidded on her knees until she reached Killian, and stuck her leg out to stop herself, arresting momentum in a kneeling stance, arms crossed over her chest.

“Sir!  I have escaped Caina as ordered in the fastest manner I could, sir!”  She said.

“Well done.”  Killian said.

She fought the smile threatening to burst out.  Killian rarely praised her in front of other Heroes as to not seem unprofessional.

“You do continue to surprise young one.”  The Administrator said, his voice sounding as old as he was.  He was the oldest of their program, for this country at least.  He had once been a great Hero until he had finally gotten too old to keep up with the growing threat of Villains and now trained other Heroes to take his place.   “You are the youngest to ever complete this test, let alone unscathed.”

“Screams are just noise, sir.”  Fayelin said, bowing her head.  “Screams and begs for mercy will not interfere with how I do my job.  I cannot always trust what I am seeing or hearing so I cannot allow it to influence my work.”

“Good answer.”  The Administrator said.  “Villains will look for any excuse and will go to every new low you can think of to trick Heroes.  You must have the ultimate strength of will if you are to resist them.”

“I shall always endeavor for that strength.”  She replied.

“She has answered well, Soldier.”  The Administrator said.  “However, there is the matter of her age.”

She cursed silently.

“Heroes her age are not to be in this test.”  The Administrator said.  “While she has proven she is ready, we must abide by our own laws or we are no better than the criminals we hunt.”

“Sir, she turns sixteen in two months.”  Killian said.  “What is the difference between her being ready now and her being ready in two months?”

“I have not finished, Soldier, you would do well to not interrupt me.”  The Administrator snapped and even Fayelin saw the other Heroes flinch at his tone.  No one pissed off the Administrator.

“I’m sorry, sir, it won’t happen again.”  Killian said, bowing his head.

“I assure you, it won’t.”  The Administrator said. “As I was saying, we must abide by our own laws.  And our laws state that a Hero-in-training cannot become a Sidekick until they are sixteen.  However, due to this unparalleled show of bravery, control, and skill, I am allowing this passing grade to transfer over in two months.  She will become your Sidekick on the day of her sixteenth birthday.”

She couldn’t fight that smile from spreading across her face, and it seemed neither could Killian.

“You may rise, Arrow.”  The Administrator said, and she slowly stood.

“Sir, isn’t it my job to choose her Sidekick name?”  KIllian whispered.

“Do not test your limits further, Soldier.”  The Administrator said coldly.  “You should feel lucky that I will not put you on probation for those two months of waiting.  If she hadn’t performed as admirably as she did, I assure you, you would’ve been suspended for putting her in this test.  Now, you will take Arrow as a Sidekick in two months.”

“Yes, sir.”  Killian said, saluting.  She very quickly followed suit.

“And Miss Arrow?”  The Administrator said. “I expect great things of you, young one.”

“I won’t let you down, sir!”

Whumptober Prompt #11- Stitches

I promised two in one day! I don’t know if anyone saw my first post for day 10- but I’m gonna be pretty unavailable for tomorrow. No ones responded to it yet, so I’m just gonna leave this here and hope. So here’s 11- just so y’all know it picks up where we left Michael and Fayelin after they escaped Caina. @winedark-whump

She thoroughly cleaned Nyx’s wounds with antiseptic, eliciting hisses and groans of pain from the Villain, but he never woke. She was grateful, what she had planned next would be very difficult and she had no anesthetic. After thoroughly cleaning the wounds, she brought out the needle and thread. She started with the nearly seven inch laceration on his right arm as it seemed to be the worst of his injuries that she could see. She hoped it wouldn’t get infected, but she also knew the conditions in Caina. There was a reason that Caina wasn’t on any map, Hero or otherwise, while others like Judecca and Antenora were. She worked methodically, using her gift to perfectly puncture the skin one quarter inch apart, making sure the needle went exactly where it was needed and did no further damage. She knew she risked losing herself to her work and losing sight of her surroundings, her gift did have its drawbacks, but she knew the risk to Nyx’s health outweighed it. An infection out here could be deadly. They had no way to call for extraction until they got out of the Center. The other Heroes would definitely be employing anticommunication devices and gifts alike. But she knew the range would only go so far as the edge of the Center. Otherwise, they would be sensed by military equipment and civilian alike and she knew they’d rather let her and Nyx get away than have their most vicious base discovered. If the public believed the rumors about this place, the entire Hero way of life would be forfeit.

Once she had finished with his arm, she moved to the cuts on his chest. None of them were as deep as the one on his arm so she made much quicker work of those that needed stitches. Thankfully, not all of them did. Once she completed her work to her satisfaction, she allowed herself to regain the ability to perceive her surroundings. Nyx’s lips were chapped, his chest was rising and falling slowly but not enough to make her worry, and he was thinner and paler but he seemed as all right as he could be. He needed water and food at the very least, and maybe a bath. She knew he hated to be gross, “Disgusting, honey, you call me disgusting? Girl, I don’t even know her.” She had rations for a few days, she could easily go without eating, but the water was the hard part. She only had a couple of water bottles left, as she hadn’t meant to spend so long looking for him. She would never have assumed that he would’ve been taken to Caina. She knew that he had been taken to the Center, but never could’ve imagined he’d be taken to Caina. Caina was only for the most vile and irredeemable of criminals. In fact, she was pretty sure Nyx was the first or maybe third person to ever escape Caina, as Heroes always wanted to hold onto those in it. Killian had always told her she was safe in Caina, as no one could escape. Now, Nyx wasn’t a great guy by any standard, but he wasn’t Caina material. Unless something had changed in his classification. She shuddered at that thought. If something had changed, the only reason it could be was her. It would be her fault that he’d been taken to Caina, her fault that he’d been tortured over a stupid jewelry heist that was meant to pay rent on her shitty apartment. She sighed. She hoped Nyx would wake up soon. She could really use his advice.

Whumptober Prompt #28- Beaten

This is my last story that’s not back on track with the Michael!whump in my Villainous verse (better title still in progress).  This should be the last bit that focuses on Michael and Fayelin’s backstory, and after this, we’ll continue with our regularly scheduled whump story.  I’ve got some good stuff planned for Michael and Endeavor returns and... I don’t want to spoil it :)

@winedark-whump This is the one I’ve been dying to show you!  I’m so excited.  Okay, here we go.

.......

A crash in another woke Michael from his light sleep.  He sat up slowly, trying not to put any stress on the nothingness that was his left arm.  Arrow had patched him up, crying the entire time. She had sobbed apologies, both fully coherent and utterly nonsensical.  He could barely acknowledge her, whether it was from the drugs she had snuck for him or the grief that overwhelmed him, he wasn’t entirely sure. He did remember her saying since it was her fault that everything had happened the way it did, the least she could do was make sure he had a place to stay, saying he could crash at his place until he was strong enough to move.  He hadn’t really responded to her, unable to form words of reassurance or defiance.  Mostly, he had just wanted to go back to sleep, where he could pretend that his fiance wasn’t dead, where he still had both of his arms, and where he wasn’t crashing in a Heroes apartment.  That had been a week ago.

A hard thump followed the crash.  That concerned him, Arrow had said that no other Heroes knew where she lived as it was against their policy to reveal information that could potentially be tortured out of someone.  Once he was upright, he put his feet on the cold floor.  Her apartment wasn’t much really, it was just a bedroom with no furniture except a mattress, a kitchenette, and a bathroom, with no carpeting, or even drapes on the window (she had told him, embarrassed, while working, that she used foil in order to trap the heat in winter) so he knew it wouldn’t be robbers.  Who would rob somewhere on the bad side of town, with no drapes, and foil on the windows?  Absolutely no one, and he was sure of it.

So he made his way into the kitchen, grabbing first the baseball bat underneath her bed.  He knew she had one, all girls who lived on this side of town did.  He didn’t have the strength to charge it up but, in a pinch, he could do some damage with it.  He toed open the door, and dropped the bat.  Arrow was spread out across the floor, fallen pots and pans from the stove around her.

“I told you we could just share the bed.”  Michael joked listlessly.  “You don’t have to sleep on the kitchen floor.”

A watery chuckle was his reply.

“Don’t think I could move even if you wanted me to.”

Michael frowned.  Arrow then shifted, lifting her head up with great effort, and horror flashed through his veins.  Arrow’s face was badly beaten, eyes almost swollen shut, blood everywhere, lips split and cracked, and her nose looked broken.  It had taken him a moment to see that Arrow was even under what was left of that face.

With a burst of adrenaline, he grabbed her shirt with his good arm and dragged her over to the bed he’d just been sleeping on.  She didn’t protest the entire time.

“You weren’t this beat up the last time I saw you.”  Michael said.  “What happened?”

“It doesn’t matter.”  Arrow replied.

“It matters.”  Michael insisted, latching onto the first emotion he’d felt in days.  “Did they give you another mission?  Did someone hurt you because of the Explosion?”

Arrow flinched.  “Just drop it, okay, it doesn’t matter!”

“It matters!”  Michael shouted.  Arrow flinched again, tears welling up in her eyes, and he forced himself to calm down.  “Please, who did this to you?”

The dam burst and Arrow dissolved into tears.  Michael sat on the bed beside her.

“I thought they were my friends.”

“What?”  Michael asked in horror but Arrow misunderstood.

“I thought they were my friends!”  She shouted.  “I trusted them!  They said I was no different from the very criminals I hunted!”

Michael just stared at her.  Arrow choked back her tears as best as she could.

“I killed your Mirror.”  She whispered, as if admitting it aloud were physically painful to her.  Knowing her ethics, it probably did. “It was an accident but it still happened.  And I blew off your arm, and I brought you to my own fucking apartment, and they screamed at me for not capturing you!”

A pit of dread crept into Michael’s veins.

“I didn’t tell them you were here.”  Arrow sighed, noticing Michael’s discomfort.  “They called me a traitor.  Said Killian’s death changed me too much.  Wait- fuck!  You know what?  I don’t care.  Yes, Soldier’s name was Killian.  I’m a traitor anyway, may as well stop fighting it.”

In a move he never could’ve predicted, Arrow took off her blood-stained mask, revealing the very young face underneath it.

“You’re just a kid.”  Michael breathed.

Arrow shrugged.  She slowly sat up to match his posture, wincing.

“Look, Arrow-”

“Fayelin.”

“Excuse me?”  Michael asked.

“You’ve seen me without my mask, you’re staying in my shitty ass apartment, and you know Killian’s name, so you may as well know mine. My name is Fayelin.  Fayelin Skye.”

“Michael Winters.”  Michael stuck his hand out on instinct.

Arr-Fayelin shook it easily.

“I’m sorry.”  She whispered.

“I know.”

“No, I mean, fuck, I am so, so sorry for what happened.”  Fayelin tentatively wiped away her fresh tears.  “You lost someone more important to you than your own life and it’s all my fault and I’m so, so sorry for that in a way I can’t put into words.  But that’s not what this one was about.”

She turned to face him, grunting as she shifted, clearly trying to work through the pain.

“I’m sorry I believed them.”

Michael frowned, confused.

“I’m sorry I believed their lies.  I’m sorry I let them brainwash me into thinking you were basically subhuman.  I’m sorry I thought that all of your kind was the same and couldn’t be trusted, and because of that mistrust you lost someone you loved.  I thought none of your kind was capable of real love.  Seeing what you’re going through, I know now how truly wrong I was.  I let them twist me up to be as bad as they were and I was proud of it.  To have my own kind turn against me for the wrong reasons, I’m… I just can’t.  I was wrong in what I did but what they’ve done to me just confirms everything you Villains have been saying for years.  I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I was apart of that system.  I have done horrible things to you, I will never stop apologizing for that.  I’m going to try for the rest of my life to wipe out the red in my ledger.  I wish I could’ve seen sooner, what they were doing to me, what I was turning myself into.  I’m sorry I let my grief after Killian turn me into a weapon of propaganda and destruction for them.  I’m not asking for your forgiveness, I’ll never ask that of you, what I did was unforgivable.  I just… I just need you to know that I’m sorry.  For everything.”

They sat in silence for a while.

“Look, Fayelin, you fucked up.  You fucked up in a way that can’t be undone.  And it hurts,  it’ll always hurt… I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forgive you… I don’t even know if I’ll ever want to forgive you… but maybe, just maybe… we can fight against their lies together.  We can fight against their fucked up system… so it never happens again.  Not to me, or anyone else.”

… 

“I’m in.”