Snippet 4 - Tumblr Posts

Snippet #4.01

TW: description of wounds, use of medical equipment

“As fascinated as I am watching you work with this kind of expertise, I am curious as to how you know to stich someone up so professionally. Do you work for Hero, or Superhero perhaps?”

’Twas but an awkward situation, that one. Supervillain had been in the process of fleeing leaving a fight downtown between a few of the city’s biggest and brightest supers on both sides. When they had taken to the air, they didn’t realize how bad their injuries had been. Their vision turned black within moments- and miraculously -Supervillain crash landed on a balcony instead of plummeting to their untimely demise. When they came to hours later, they had been brought indoors and set on a couch, apparently owned by this civilian.

The supervillain had been surprised. This person had an opportunity to do anything. Call the cops, flag down a hero, even unmask them. But they hadn’t. And since Supervillain considered themself as a slow-to-destruction kind of person, the civilian wouldn’t be killed on sight.

Then Supervillain noticed their injuries, treated and either bandaged or stitched, save one rather nasty gash over their ribs.

And it was only after that did they noticed the civilian crouched on the floor. Frozen in place, holding a string-like fiber and a hooked needle in their clutches. This civilian was not normal, that was for certain.

Said civilian, now, shrugged and continued their work. “I don’t work for any super in this city. Maybe once however, I was a super living in a different city. It would have been years ago, obviously. I would have learned how to use sutures to patch myself up because it was the only way I could survive, because there was no one I could go to for help,” They paused to look them in the eye.

Or maybe,” They tugged the thread a little too harshly, getting a hiss out of the supervillain. “I’m a paramedic who does this kind of procedure nearly every day, because ya’know, it’s my job.” They tied the last knot and set the hook-like needle down.

“Speaking of going to some one for help, stitches should come out in two weeks. I assume one of your villain friends can help you with that?” The civilian helped Supervillain to their feet before leaving them in favor of cleaning their equipment.

Supervillain didn’t acknowledge them as they made their way to the balcony, testing their flight abilities and then leaping off the fourteen-story balcony ledge. Today must’ve been their lucky day.

Part 2

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.