Supervillain - Tumblr Posts

HARLEY QUINN YASSS

MY IDEA FOR A SUPERHERO NOVEL!!!! OPINIONS NEEDED!

The story is set in the year 2015 in an alternate universe where in the year 2000, super-powered individuals known as meta-humans suddenly began to appear to the public eye. From scientific accidents to magic to extraterrestrials to technology, these individuals now have extraordinary abilities. Some use it for their own personal gain while others use it to benefit society and make the world a better place, though most of them prefer to keep their powers hidden and go on with their normal lives.

Because of their existence, this world is much different than ours. Governments around the world are trying to either create their own superhumans or regulate metahuman activity. Technology has advanced, with more green energy, advancements in medicine (cancer is a thing of the past for the most part and prosthesis technology has advanced greatly ), and newer discoveries in science (the existence of extraterrestrial life, the existence of magic and other dimensions). Prejudice against metahumans exists due to the destruction caused by supervillains, so the UN has been arguing for a decade on how they should react towards them. Superhero comic books, movies, and shows exist in this world but they’re sort of treated in the same way that people in our world treat cop movies or drama movies, allowing fantasy to gain more popularity as a genre.

The novel is going to focus on the lives of these meta-humans and how they use their abilities. We see each of their experiences with their powers, whether they’re government-controlled superheroes or street-level vigilantes. Whether they were born into more privileged upbringings or were exploited by the state.

I’m sort of going for an MCU style here with a bit of DC sprinkled in. I plan on giving the villains as much character development as the heroes in order to make the characters have more mixed moralities rather than having everything be simply black-and-white, good and bad. It will have an upbeat mood with humor but it will have some darker elements and tearjerker scenes, especially when it comes to the villains. 

So, what do you think?

That Catboy keeps appearing in my head uninvited.

A/N: After about a month and a half wait, I have finally plucked up the courage to post part 2!! After this there are only 3 more sections and if i feel like breaking some hearts, an alternate ending

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Part II: Catch

Bella tugged at her hood. Despite knowing it concealed her face well with the deep shadow created in the dim light, she needed something to do with her hands and hoped it would be succinct and subtle enough to not be noteworthy.

She jumped as Manic Alchemist spoke, ripping her hands away and tucking them together in her lap. He sat halfway across the room from her, legs crossed and leaning against an ebony high backed chair that screamed try-hard villain. “This is a surprisingly impromptu meeting for you,” he said, smooth and undaunted. Anyone who heard about him before actually hearing him was always surprised by the disconnect between his diction and his voice - a teenager with the everyday language of a college lecture. 

“Well,” Bella, the Crimson Programmer, said, fumbling. She was always terrible at lying with short notice. Twisting the finger of her new glove with her bare hand, she continued, “Sometimes I worry about you, squirt. Your ego took quite the beating this weekend. Maybe you need more of my tech to supplement your talents.” With a quiet pop as the Crimson Programmer squeezed her wrists, hidden capsules released a swarm of Crimson Nanites into the room. Perhaps her fiddling could pass the movement off as a nervous gesture.

Meanwhile, Manic Alchemist bristled at her jab. “Thank you for the offer,” he said, “but I don’t have the budget for any upgrades at the moment. You have a steep price.”

The Crimson Programmer forced lightness into her voice, saying, “Come on. Isn’t it worth it for the fee? I’m top of the line. You were lucky to find me.” She was desperately stalling for time. The cluttered room would increase travel time for the nanites. Disguised by her hood and minimal self control keeping her head trained on Manic Alchemist, her eyes sporadically flickered from the bots to him. Distantly she wondered what Zach would think. He obviously assumed she would use the glove she showed him, maybe other equipment she’d developed in his company, to apprehend a B-list villain. Theoretically, she could, but it was just so much easier to use her nanites. She was using the latest version, 6.3, which was exclusively for her personal use, since it was still in beta and far too dangerous and useful to put in anyone else’s hands. Besides, she deserved to treat herself with one of a kind new toys every once in a while. 

“Maybe,” Manic Alchemist said, breaking through her train of thought. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I have no money to spare! As you said so subtly, my attack this weekend failed, so everything I risked was lost.” Lights began flickering at the edge of the room; he was getting dangerously ticked off. While his anger would make him less observant, it would dramatically increase his likelihood of storming off or driving her out, and that would doom the easy picking he served as one of her more docile contacts.

“Don’t worry,” she said, trying to smooth over his frustration. “You can get new equipment on credit. Interest rates are very low, especially for regular high-paying customers like you, and I already have some updates planned for what you’ve purchased from me already.”

Manic Alchemist drummed his fingers on the sliver of free space at the table he sat at and said simply, “Perhaps.” The heat had drained from him, but his outburst had left both of them on edge, tense in biting, barely sustained diplomacy. 

At the prompting of a beep updating the Crimson Programmer on the Nanites’ progress, she jumped in. “Say that you did get the updates. For a reduced price, even. What would you do then?” She hoped the usual tactic of getting the Alchemist to talk about himself would be distraction enough. He loved gloating, even if he would never  admit it. Thankfully for his own sake, he only did it in secure spaces where he was sure no one would interrupt the schemes he revealed. Though amusing, it was embarrassing to watch villains monologue in front of heroes that would then effortlessly defeat them after the villains revealed their plans. 

Slowly at first, almost as though skepticism and tension from earlier was holding him back, Manic Alchemist began talking, which quickly became ranting, about his grand plans. He continued speaking while the Crimson Programmer barely paid attention to him as she glanced constantly at her overengineered watch that was receiving updates about the Nanites’ status. It was agonizing, watching them creep across the room, hindered by Manic Alchemist’s mess. They flickered in and out of sight, climbing the wreckage of experiments, hiding behind trash cans littering the floor, avoiding piles of unidentifiable goo. There was no clock on the wall, so the Crimson Programmer was certain time was flowing slower than molasses, taunting her with the potential of failure. What if he saw the nanites crawling across the room? Surely he would with their snail-like pace. 

Finally, finally, they reached Manic Alchemist’s scuffed and stained boots. So as to not make their presence immediately obvious, the Crimson Programmer tore her eyes away from the bots and forced herself to look Alchemist in the face without cringing away from the possibility of eye contact. Her subtly inclined head might tip him off otherwise. 

Now sitting forward, his black eyes glittered with passion, frenzy, delight, as he monologued about his ambitions for tearing apart chunks of the city. It was impossible to tune back into what Manic Alchemist said, so the Programmer just watched his hands fly, darting out and mimicking patrol routes and flight paths and explosions. It was strangely endearing. Absently, she wondered how she ended up working so closely on a regular basis with teenagers. One of his hands abruptly stilled and jerked to his scalp. Risking a glance at her watch, the Crimson Programmer saw the bots were almost in place. Manic Alchemist’s fingers continued to reach towards the Nanites. A few more millimeters and the plan would fall apart. 

There were no contingencies for her to fall back on.

“Hey!” the Crimson Programmer said, lurching forward and brandishing her glove-clad hand in his face. “You should see my newest project.”

Manic Alchemist froze, dropping his hands away from his head and leaning farther forward, eyes narrowed, intrigued. The Crimson Programmer barely withheld a sigh of relief. If he suspected anything from her interruption, he held back, likely his curiosity triumphing over any other trains of thought. Impatiently, he waved his hand in her direction, prompting her to continue.

“You see, there are chips in the fingers with wireless probes that detect and hijack electrical currents,” explained the Crimson Programmer. “The signals feed through the wires…” She trailed off, waiting for him to catch on, hoping the time he took to connect the dots would be enough for the Crimson Nanites to lock in position.

“And you can take control of whatever you’re holding with the glove. That’s brilliant!” Manic Alchemist said after a few seconds, sounding impressed, for once. Technology wasn’t his strong suit, and he was loathe to admit his shortcomings. 

“Thank you.”

“Aren’t you going to elaborate?”

“No,” the Crimson Programmer said as her watch buzzed, signaling the Nanites were in place. “I don’t need to stall for time anymore.”

“What? So none of your offers… What have you done?” Manic Alchemist said, panicking. His face was pale and strikingly obvious in the gloomy light. She had never seen him so unsettled, so scared.

“I'm sorry. Good night, my friend,” she said, the last two words dripping with mockery. With that, the Crimson Programmer pressed the capsules on her wrists again. Manic Alchemist stiffened, spasming once as his nervous system was tapped into, and collapsed bonelessly into his chair. If her ambitions weren’t on the line, she would have pitied his helpless form. “You were just too good of an opportunity to pass up.”

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A/N: Welcome to part 3!!! In my head these next two parts as a cat’s interaction with their prey and then their person - toying with the prey then presenting their person with a prize. and any titles that don’t fit the theme are alliterative

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Part III: Gloat

The over-air-conditioned room gave Bella goosebumps under her long-sleeved uniform. Her office chair creaked as she swung restlessly back and forth in small arcs. She almost wished she felt more remorse for the situation, but years of business dealings had left her cold and hardened towards trivial, temporary suffering — especially when she was the one who benefited. It didn’t mean she sought to cause others pain; it just didn’t seem worth putting herself at disadvantage to prevent minor misery.

So, her gaze was cold and hard as she gazed at Manic Alchemist splayed out in front of her. Using general knowledge and her own specialized knowledge she had as his supplier, she had stripped him of anything that would help him escape. His overly dramatic dark green cape was gone, as were his boots and the detailing from his costume that she had custom-made with escape attempts in mind. 

He looked naked with the key elements of his outfit missing. 

She flicked the seam between his glove and sleeve. His dark goggles were still on his face, left there to protect his identity. Though this meant Bella couldn’t tell if his eyes were open or not, it was easy to tell he was still passed out — his breathing was deep and even, and his expression was relaxed and serene. His face was smooth where annoyance usually tightened his features. 

He actually looked fourteen like this.

Standing and clenching and unclenching her fist twice at her side, Bella came to a decision. She padded over to stand by his head, swept his dark hair away from the side of his head, and brushed a hand over his ear. Sitting down once again, Bella settled in to wait for him to wake up.

It didn’t take long. 

Not three minutes later, Manic Alchemist pushed weakly against the restraints and then bucked harder when they didn’t budge. His head whipped around, half-lidded eyes darting wildly, trying to get a gauge of his surroundings. 

Bella smoothed her red domino mask down. She adjusted the distortion speaker hooked around her ears as she watched Manic Alchemist vainly twist his wrists in the restraints and try to slip his feet out. Honestly, it was kind of pathetic. 

“What am I- who are you- where is-?” Manic Alchemist seemed to have retained none of his usual coherence. Bella supposed that made sense - it would probably be rather alarming waking up in a strange place chained to an angled bench, especially after the simulation he was put through to keep him under longer. 

“Hello, Manic Alchemist. You’re awake sooner than expected,” Bella said levelly. 

Alchemist’s mouth went slack, his unfocused eyes wheeling around where she sat, purposefully positioned in the center of his vision. His questions had stopped, and he didn’t seem to be close to procuring words to interrogate her any time soon.

She continued, “Or perhaps not. Your superior intellect isn’t that grossly exaggerated, so it follows that you’d be able to throw off mental distortions meant to keep you subdued relatively quickly.”

“Who are you? What am I doing here? Where am I?” he asked, words tumbling out of him in a desperate jumble.

Bella sighed in exasperation. She should have known he would be disoriented, thrown off. While it was jarring to see him so unlike his usual self, it was gratifying to have him humbled and shut up. “How much do you remember before being locked up?” she countered, sidestepping his questions.

Missing her change of subject, he answered haltingly, as pieces of his memory fell into place, “I remember meeting up with… her. And then she made some offers, and then, and then…”

“Nothing else?” prompted Bella. She needed to know how much to throw off Manic Alchemist’s suspicion, and anyone else who would interrogate him. Lies were easy enough to handle, given the extent to which she schooled her words anyway, but it was better to formulate coverups sooner rather than later so as to concoct a believable falsehood that would keep her secrets hidden.

“She knocked me out!” Manic Alchemist blurted. Bella cursed silently. “She must have been set up, she’s never so nervous, and she never lets me ramble since it annoys her, and she never apologizes, she, she… You! You must have set her up. Forced her to kidnap me.”

Scrambling to take control of the conversation, and the teenager’s train of thought, Bella attempted to soothe him.  “I don’t know who you’re talking about. And you weren’t kidnapped. I arrested you.”

Once again, Manic Alchemist was at a loss for words. Bella smirked, her expression hidden by the shadows of the poorly lit room. 

Finally, he faintly said, “What?”

“I arrested you,” repeated Bella, overenunciating every word.

“Why?”

Bella pursed her lips in mock consideration. “You’re not a very intimidating figure. You’re not dangerous in close quarters. And the damage you’ve done to the city warrants some punishment.” As she spoke, she ticked off the reasons on her fingers. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” Manic Alchemist said, stalling as Bella watched the gears turn in his head. His hands twitched in their restraints. “Who arrested me?”

“The city.”

“How?”

“Very easily. It’s nothing strictly personal, but beyond your little light shows that tear up a few blocks at a time, you’re a weak villain. Just. A. Kid.” Scarlet Maiden paused for effect then added, “And it’s our job. My job now.”

With those devastating words, Manic Alchemist drooped, head hung low in hopelessness. Scarlet Maiden turned on her heel and left the room. The steel door clicked shut in her wake and reverberated around the room now lit only by monitors and the glint of a captured villain’s goggles.

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A/N: I did mean to space these apart evenly from now, but that’s okay. this is bella presenting zach with the thing she caught, but like any good cat owner, zach is confused but mostly grateful and touched by the gift

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Part IV: Gift

Walking down the hall, Bella tugged at the emotions tangling in her chest. Remorse. Pity. Excitement. Guilt? Triumph. Good enough, and normal enough feelings for the situation. She knew she wasn’t the epitome of a good person, seeing as she personally supplied tools for campaigns injuring people and destroying the city, but personal check-ins that assured her she wasn’t a heartless monster were nice.

The headquarters of Miranda’s Protection Agency was empty; only suckups and overachievers worked Saturday afternoons in the office since that time was reserved for fieldwork or family time. Bella checked her phone, swiping from the night vision equipped cameras showing Manic Alchemist to double-checking where Zach was. Good. He was in his office.

Drawing up to the starkly plain stainless steel door, she rapped on it. Bella had remembered to pull her sleeves over her knuckles for protection since the doors in the building were infamous for bruising knuckles. The muffled knock rang out through the deserted hallway. Hearing footsteps approaching, Bella squinted, knowing what was to come. As the door opened, she knew her partially shut eyes did nothing. Every wall of the room screamed with different jarringly bright colored paint and was lit by tasteful choices of complementary LED strips. Beanbags lined the walls, interrupted only by a floating desk suspended by electromagnetic suspension Bella had designed. A mountain of stuffed toys, from cerulean lions, to lilac unicorns, to magenta cats, sat haphazardly in the corner of the room. Zach himself stood in the doorway, looking embarrassed, as usual, at the state of his room. The scene was mildly endearing, once Bella got over being blinded. He sheepishly passed her the pair of sunglasses he kept by the door for whenever she came to visit.

“Hey,” Zach said, as Bella stepped into the room. He closed the door behind her, asking, “What’s this visit about? Normally people don’t work at this time.”

Pushing the cold sunglasses up the bridge of her nose, Bella said, “I did it.”

“Huh?”

“The job? So I can go out,” she elaborated. She strode over to a beanbag and sat down. Being Zach’s confidant as one of the youngest members of the company meant Bella had spent enough time in his room to be comfortable enough to do as she pleased.

“What? Already?” Zach said, blinking in shock. Honestly, what did he take her for? Thankfully, he corrected himself before she had to, shaking his head and sighing. “You know what? I shouldn’t be surprised. Though, this is quick, even for you. Did you start before the mission was approved?

No. She was just highly efficient and had a long list of villain contacts to choose from. But she didn’t share that. Not when it would surely cost Bella her job at the company. Despite her smug internalized reply, her triumphant smirk slid off her face. She could have, should have waited longer so as not to be suspicious. Cursing silently and smoothing on a placid expression, she said, “I guess I’m just good at my job.”

“Well, if you’re so good at your job,” teased Zach, poking fun at her matter-of-fact tone coupled with prideful words, “Then we’d better start planning your next mission.”

“I can’t just join you now?”

“No. No! I can’t-” Zach said, sharply exhaling before finding his words. “I can’t lose someone like you.”

Something warm bubbled in Bella’s chest, but she replied, bitterly only half-joking, “Yes, losing such a vital asset to your company would be a significant blow to your heroic efforts.”

Typical, sweet Zach saw through the flimsy cover of her low self-esteem. While Bella knew her extensive value as an individual pertaining to personal goals, it was so easy to rationalize being excluded from groups when all she brought to the table was computers. “No,” he softly corrected. “I enjoy you as a person. Your company. Just” – he punched her arm lightly – “I care about you and I don’t want you getting hurt.”

The warm feeling grew. Punching him back, Bella said, “You’re such a softy. I can handle myself, so don’t be afraid of giving me something more dangerous.”

“Handle yourself how? Besides your tech, what else can you do? I don’t think there are any nanites you can invent that would fix gashes or broken bones.”

Making a mental note of an addition for the next Crimson Nanite update, she turned her attention back to the conversation at hand, excitement twisting in her chest. This was her chance! “I’m a powered person,” Bella said, watching his face closely for a reaction. His face remained blank, so she continued, “My blood has special properties. When it’s frozen, it becomes a healing salve that closes any surface level wounds in around five minutes.” She would have kept going, but as earnest as Zach was if she talked too long his eyes would start to glaze over. All the same, she couldn’t help but add, “And I am resistant to heat and fire.” Other words and explanations itched to be released, like her costume idea, the gadgets she would add, how she wanted to be presented to the public, but there was no way he would retain any of the information.

“Okay,” Zach said slowly. “Maybe I can get the higher ups to consider you for more dangerous stuff. We should probably decide what you want to do first, though.”

Conversation for the next ten minutes was dull. For most people's standards, at least. Bella was thrilled to be discussing the tactics, strengths, and weaknesses of villains and vigilantes that mildly terrorized the streets of the surrounding area. As topics wound by, they slowly drifted from fieldwork to new recruits in the office. Apparently, some of the less youthful members of the company hadn’t been taking Zach seriously. Bella couldn’t fault them entirely – it was hard to swallow one's pride sometimes to take orders from a kid. Still, it was unfair given how much he had done for the city. 

Having talked for long enough and being distracted from more relevant topics, Bella decided it was finally time to bring it up.

“Hey,” she said, interrupting a natural lull in between conversations. “My task to qualify for fieldwork. It’s done, right?”

Zach fixed her with a stare. “What do you mean?” he asked.

Bella fidgeted, hoping she wouldn’t reveal her scheme. Maybe it would pass up for nervousness at her newly acquired position being in the balance. Taking a calming breath, she said, “Say Manic Alchemist gets out. Would I still be able to go out?”

“Oh. Yeah. Your job was just to catch him. You’re not guarding his cell, are you?” 

Bella shook her head.

“Okay! So if someone messes up bad enough to lose him, then that’s their fault. You can still go out, don’t worry. There’s no way he could escape without help anyway.”

She sighed with relief. “Okay. Okay, good,” she muttered, half to herself, thankful for a reason completely different from what Zach assumed. 

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A/N: it did occur to me that i should have scheduled the already written part 5 before i left on holidays for two weeks but there’s nothing i can do now. finally you can see bella’s scheme come to fruition in the final part of this series (not counting the alternate ending i’ve been cooking up for months now)

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Part V: Release

Feedback whistled in her ear, making Bella wince. She would take out her earpiece, but it would only make calibration take longer, so she tapped the side, turning down the volume. Her keyboard clicked as she tapped into the back entrance of the camera system. While she could use her personal login, it would heavily implicate her in her upcoming task, jeopardizing her job and new opportunity; even if she wasn’t suspected of helping, watching and not doing anything would not look good for her. Still, to say she hacked into the system was a stretch. She simply created a new login that she would purge when she was done.

Finally, the ringing in the earpiece stopped. Bella turned it up again and tapped it twice, tuning her into Manic Alchemist’s channel.

“Hey,” she said. “Wake up!” The Crimson Programmer turned up the volume on Manic Alchemist’s end to rouse him.

“What- what is this?” His voice was rough from disuse but clear through the speaker. Everything the Crimson Programmer made was always of the highest quality.

“Stars above, you’re dense. This is a rescue,” she said, overenunciating the last four words. “The Crimson Programmer is getting you out of this hellhole.”

Manic Alchemist didn’t let up with his questions. “How? Why?”

The Crimson Programmer groaned into her hands. Peeking between her fingers, she saw Manic Alchemist look around the room. She hadn’t even hit him over the head; how could he be so slow to readjust to consciousness? Surely he hadn’t been wallowing in pity the entire time. “Do you think,” the Crimson Programmer ground out, “that either of us have time for explanations?”

“I don’t like doing things if I don’t know the reason why,” said Manic Alchemist, his tone regaining its usual snark. “And I have good reason to be suspicious of you. Last time we met up I was kidnapped!”

“Let’s just say I had a resurgence of my conscience–”

Manic Alchemist interrupted the Crimson Programmer. “Bullshit.”

The Crimson Programmer was glad she had concocted a lie earlier. Smoothly, she said, “Look, I was blackmailed. It was either go to jail myself, or turn someone in that I could break out.”

Always shrewd, Manic Alchemist asked, “And why risk your safety for me?”

“I had nothing better to do today,” the Crimson Programmer said.

“Right.”

“Do you want to be tattled on by the government to your parents? Or go to a juvenile detention center?”

Still not satisfied with her explanation, Manic Alchemist sharply inhaled, ready to go on another tirade.

It was the Crimson Programmer's turn to cut him off. “We are wasting time here. I could be found at any minute. If either of us get caught, this fiasco will end disastrously.”

“I’m already caught. Aren’t you breaking me out?” Manic Alchemist remarked drily.

“Then cooperate!” The Crimson Programmer bit back. “If you want out, then do what I say and stop playing dumb. You’re better than this.”

“Oh, you think I’m smart? I’m flattered. How unlike you to compliment–” The Crimson Programmer sent a pulse of feedback to Manic Alchemist’s end, momentarily deafening one ear and cutting him off. “Okay, okay,” he corrected himself. “Tell me what to do.”

“Relax your hands,” she said.

“Why?”

“What did I say before?”

“Right, right.”

“If you relax your hands you can pull them out of your gloves. The restraints were tightened to accommodate for the fabric around your wrists, so it’s not tight enough to effectively bind them,” explained the Crimson Programmer.

She watched the gloves poking out of the cuffs wiggle a little, the fingers going limp. Manic Alchemist’s arms twisted as he coaxed his hands free.

“That’s it,” the Crimson Programmer said. “Try angling your right elbow towards you – your hand should slip out easier that way.”

Manic Alchemist froze. He said, “Wait. Can you see me?”

“Of course. It wouldn’t be a very efficient escape attempt if I was blind to what you were doing. Then we’d waste precious time as you described your surroundings,” said the Crimson Programmer, tapping the desk beside her.

“You hacked into the cameras?”

The Crimson Programmer hesitated. “Yes,” she finally said.

“Why did you pause?” Manic Alchemist asked. Of course he was back to his usual perception. He always picked up on everything, paranoia teaching him to be good at picking up on social queues.

“Because I… thought I heard someone coming,” the Crimson Programmer said, covering horribly with a lie.

Shaking out his wrists, Manic Alchemist looked around the room, searching for the camera. Likely noticing the blinking red light, he stared straight at it and asked, “Where are you?”

“The less you know the better.”

“Fair enough.”

A smile played on the Crimson Programmer’s lips. As annoying as he was, it was, at the very least, entertaining to clash wits with Manic Alchemist. She let the smile drop and focused back on the task at hand. “There should be a button on the inside of your ankles that releases the cuffs,” she said, watching Manic Alchemist bend down, folding awkwardly over the chest binding. The metal straps popped open, leaving his legs dangling comically, like an abandoned puppet. “Now just slide out from the chest restraints. You’re skinny enough.”

“Hey!” Manic Alchemist protested, doing what she said all the same.

“It’s true. You forget to eat, like me,” the Crimson Programmer said without a hint of doubt. “Alright. If you walk to the table there should be a fist-sized canister there.”

She heard the faint tap of his footsteps over the audio, using that to guide her perception of Manic Alchemist's place in the room as he stood in an almost blind spot of the cameras, his Ironman socks peeking into the view of a camera. The Crimson Programmer had planted it there earlier after deciding on the risk of freeing Manic Alchemist. It would likely look like she had forgotten it there after monitoring his condition before reporting her success to Zach.

“I’ve got it. Now what?” It made sense that Manic Alchemist would do what he was told, but it still shocked the Crimson Programmer how little he was questioning her orders. 

“Roll it under the door.”

“What is it going to do?” There was the resistance.

“Nothing lethal,” the Crimson Programmer said evasively. “Don’t use it, by all means, but I doubt you can take out the armed guards on the other side.”

“No, no. I was just curious. I’d prefer to know of course, especially in case I could have done it better,” Manic Alchemist said as he ambled towards the door.

The Crimson Programmer snapped, “I’m sorry, next time you can break yourself out.”

“Don’t be so touchy,” Manic Alchemist soothed in vain. “I think I deserve to insult you a little bit after you got me arrested.”

“Just send the canister under the door.”

The pair was silent as he did so. The Crimson Programmer switched the cameras displayed on her monitor to watch blue-tinted smoke stream out of the canister. The poor people standing at the door only had a scant few seconds to look confused before the chemicals took effect and they slumped to the floor.

“You can step out now. The door is,” the Crimson Programmer paused, the click of buttons echoing around the room as she reprogrammed the lock. “Open.”

Manic Alchemist shuffled into view and stopped cold. “Are they dead?” he asked hollowly. Nudging one with his foot, his pixels shivered as he shuddered. The prone bodies showed no sign of life as the visors on the helmets were reflective, and the armor was protectively stiff which hid any movement of the guards’ chests.

Scoffing, the Crimson Programmer reassured him, “Of course not. They’re just passed out. Honestly, what do you take me for? I am many things, but I am not a murderer. And I do my best to make sure my creations don’t take life either.”

The staticky silence was not comfortable.

Stifling the urge to clear her throat before she spoke, the Crimson Programmer directed Manic Alchemist, watching his progress as she talked. “Go down the hall… turn left. Wait!” She had been too focused on the screens and had forgotten to unlock the door. Tapping out a preplanned sequence of buttons, she continued, “Alright. The door on your right is open now.”

Manic Alchemist twisted the handle and the door popped open easily, revealing a medium-sized broom closet with an overstuffed plastic bag inside.

“That’s your stuff. Get changed now if you want to be more prepared later.”

As Manic Alchemist slipped inside the over-glorified cupboard, he asked, “You’re not going to spy on me while I do that, will you?”

“You could put it on in the hallway. There’s nothing intimate you have to do to get your gear on. It’s just detailing and gaudy, unnecessary accessories.” 

At her words Manic Alchemist sighed, his sharp exhale tinny and staticky through the earpiece. He stepped out of the closet fully dressed, cape brushing his boots and seams faintly glowing on his dark pine suit.

“You took your time,” said the Crimson Programmer snidely.

The quality of the monitors and cameras was so good she thought she saw Manic Alchemist roll his eyes.

“Before you start insulting me again, you should try a new upgrade I added on to your suit while you were napping.” The Crimson Programmer switched views of the camera as she spoke. “There is an option on the modes of your suit that reads CM-FG. Select it, and you will be invisible to cameras and slightly less conspicuous as your suit changes to match the color of nearby walls.”

The hues on the screen abruptly flipped as the cameras loaded. A few months ago she had installed a thermal view onto them. It was only available to her, and she planned to keep it that way; it was a valuable asset to have in her arsenal, and she didn’t want anyone snooping on her after-hours work. She already had an excuse in place if anyone was bright enough to stumble upon the function, which was unlikely. If she was confronted she’d claim she’d been perfecting the system and wanted to ensure all bugs and glitches were gone before sharing. She’d had thermal imaging cameras installed and customized in her personal living space for three and a half years, so the perfected system was easy to transfer to headquarters if somewhat challenging to install undetected. 

Thus, Manic Alchemist remained visible to her and invisible on any other cameras. The less work she had to do wiping the memory of cameras and other equipment she tampered with, the better.

Barring a few biting exchanges, the rest of the escape attempt went relatively smoothly. Seven turns away from the exit, however, some poor, overworked employee’s hot computer disguised a figure turning the corner.

“Stop, stop stop!” The Crimson Programmer hissed. Manic Alchemist tripped over his feet in haste. “Walk back five paces and step behind the corner. Don’t make a sound or we’re both busted.”

The edge of Manic Alchemist’s cape had just whipped around the pillar as someone stepped into the hallway. Thankfully, whoever it was walking by was fully absorbed in their phone and hadn’t seen the shimmer in the air that was Manic Alchemist. Strangely enough, the Crimson Programmer didn’t recognize the person, which meant they were most likely a new recruit. Scratch that, they were definitely a new recruit. Many older employees griped about the new generation being “good for nothing” and “always on those damn screens” and would gladly slap the phone out of unsuspecting green workers’ hands under the guise of “maintaining good work ethic.” If they still had their phone in their hand walking through headquarters the person had been there for a week at most.

It was a good thing the rescue mission took place on a Saturday so no one was around. No one besides her, Manic Alchemist, the few people working overtime, and Zach, Bladed Officer.

“Excuse me? Please tell me whoever is running down the hallway that crosses with my path is planned and I won’t run into them.” Manic Alchemist’s voice broke through the Crimson Programmer’s coding fog. She had zoned out while setting up commands for equipment needed later after Manic Alchemist had reached a long stretch that required no directions. He had stopped two paces away from the intersection.

“Um, just give me a second,” said the Crimson Programmer, pulling up a view of the hallway he was talking about and minimizing the windows that she was working on. Zach was half running, half hopping down the hall as he pulled on the Bladed Officer costume. The Crimson Programmer cursed so loudly that she glanced at the door to the spare room she had holed up in. She hissed under her breath, “He was supposed to leave earlier.”

“What was that? Are you going to handle this?” The lack of inflection in Manic Alchemist’s voice betrayed his nervousness. When he talked with her there was always at least a slight undercurrent of smugness. He had an insufferable superiority complex.

Letting out a few more entirely necessary curses, the Crimson Programmer checked the status of the virus she had planted in Bladed Officer’s comms. As she had planned, a false alert had gone off twenty minutes before Manic Alchemist had left his cell, intended to draw Bladed Officer away from the headquarters so there would be no legitimate threat to the rescue.

Zach drew closer to where Manic Alchemist was frozen, picking up speed as he finished pulling his boots on. What could the Crimson Programmer do? Frantically, she searched her command board for obstacles, some kind of distraction, a barrier to hide the heat-shimmer Manic Alchemist left in the air. The two halls were dismally barren, with no doorways or corners nearby that wouldn’t put the two boys on the same path.

“He’s not going away,” Manic Alchemist ground out under his breath. “Do something!”

Forehead damp, the Crimson Programmer said, “Don’t move.” 

“What do you think I’m doing?”

“And don’t talk either.”

In a rush of air, Bladed Officer dashed across the path. He didn’t even turn his head as he pulled on the sleeves of his uniform jacket. Neither villain spoke, moved, breathed until the door leading outside had slammed shut, reverberating through every fiber of Manic Alchemist standing in the hall, through the speaker and into the Crimson Programmer’s earpiece.

“That was helpful,” snarked Manic Alchemist.

The Crimson Programmer exhaled sharply, her shoulders slumping as she threw her rolling chair across the room, trying to expel the remainder of her pent-up tension. Pulling herself back to the desk she said drily, “I don’t see you putting much effort into a break out of a well-known superhero’s headquarters. Wait a few more moments and take the same exit as he did. I’ll see you in a few moments.” She pulled out the earpiece, stuffing it in her pocket to muffle the earful she would have gotten otherwise. Moments like this during the escape made her wonder if it was worth it to break the kid out. Hypothetically speaking of course. While her morals were often questionable, knowing she could do something to improve a bad situation she caused would have plagued her with guilt for days if she didn’t take action. Such an emotional state would have limited her capacity to complete her work as efficiently as possible.

It only took a few clicks to sign out of the borrowed monitor system, and a scant few more to wipe her existence and log history. Years of conducting her less-than-legal business ventures at the public library made her quick at leaving no traces of digital activity.

All her gear packed up and in hand, she shut the door softly so as to not attract any attention. A door leading outside was adjacent to the room, purposely chosen for a quick escape if any hint of being caught arose. The Crimson Programmer stepped outside and immediately spotted Manic Alchemist leaning against the wall. His shoulders were around his ears.

“Thanks for all that,” Manic Alchemist said. He pushed away from the wall and stood five paces away from the Crimson Programmer, who was quickly overheating in her dark hood and bulky cloak. She would have conducted the rescue later, under the cover of darkness, but talking with Zach had revealed plans to send Manic Alchemist out that evening. “Maybe next time don’t fold to schemes concocted by the people we’re working against,” Manic Alchemist added, interrupting the Crimson Programmer’s train of thought. “Then we won’t end up in messes like this.”

We? The Crimson Programmer was glad she had her cowl to hide her expression. What she would pay to see Manic Alchemist’s face if she told him about her recent promotion. Not her reputation in the villain’s market, that was for sure. Still, his comment stung. “My bad. Next time I won’t listen to threats made on my life and work,” she bit back. She paused, watching Manic Alchemist’s expression twist. A mixture of sympathy and curiosity at the effects of her equipment tugged a question forward. “What happened in there?”

Manic Alchemist scuffed the floor with his boot. “Oh nothing much,” he said flatly. “They just screwed with my brain a little. Tried to make me happy with messed-up visions. Not with addictive drugs or anything, I don’t think. It didn’t work. I mean, can you imagine me happy?” He laughed incredulously.

“So it had no effect?” The Crimson Programmer asked, trying not to sound disappointed. She had worked hard on the Nanites and their electric signals, hoping to sell the technology. “It didn’t work at all.”

Whatever had been open and willing to share in his guarded expression winked out. Manic Alchemist bit his lip and turned. “I’m going to go now,” he said, words clipped. “And try to recover from the mildly traumatic situation you caused.”

Tampering with his neurons had worked. He was obviously trying to guilt-trip her. It wouldn’t work; three successes in a row had left the Crimson Programmer flying high on pride and dreams. Mildly, distantly, she said, “Enjoy the rest of your afternoon.”

Manic Alchemist laughed again, bitterly. He walked down the street, likely going to change into civilian clothing in an alley.

Bella turned back inside, ripping off her cowl and cloak, and draping them over her forearm. She was ready to go home. Who knew playing cat and mouse was so easy? And having a foot on both sides of the battle? Sharing and withholding critical information, catching and releasing important parties? Life was about to get a lot more fun.

prev

If I’m not starting a brand new enemies to lovers superhero WIP at three in the morning then what am I even doing

Lemme know if you want a character introduction because I am obsessed with them they’re gonna be so cute when they stop trying to kill each other ❤️

“Don’t die.”

The sidekick’s hands pressed into the hero’s wound, and the hero blinked dizzily.

“What?”

“I said, don’t die.”

“I’m sorry, wait, who are you?”

The sidekick’s gaze had an intensity the hero didn’t know existed. Then, they grinned, and it was like sunshine.

“Your new sidekick. And I can’t be your sidekick if you have the audacity to die on my very first day, so don’t die.”

The hero blinked once more.

“Nice to meet you?”

“I’ll say nice to meet you when you stop bleeding out.”

—————————

“Don’t die,” the sidekick reminded the hero, half laughing, half serious.

The hero rolled their eyes with affection.

“Have I ever?”

—————————

“Don’t die.”

The hero glanced up.

“Relax, it’s just a graze. No bullet holes, see?”

They held their arms away from their body, twisting to show the lack of harm.

The sidekick sighed with something close to relief.

—————————

“Don’t-“

“Die, yes, I know,” the hero finished. The sidekick’s eyes narrowed.

The hero’s heart twisted.

“I won’t, I promise.”

The sidekick nodded, once.

—————————

“Don’t die.”

The hero sneezed, eyes bleary.

“It’s just a cold.”

“Yeah, and people die from those.”

The hero laughed, voice nasally.

“The agency would be thrilled to have cause of death ‘common cold’ written in my file, I’m sure of it.”

The sidekick threw a pillow at them, and brought them soup.

—————————

“Be careful, okay?”

The hero snapped their head up.

The sidekick blinked at the sudden movement, mouth still half open.

“What?”

The sidekick cleared their throat.

“I said be careful,” they gestured awkwardly with one hand. “It’s Supervillain. They don’t pull punches.”

The hero’s mouth was dry.

“Right. Yes.”

They strapped their last piece of gear on, and turned to leave.

“Oh, and hero,” the sidekick tried for nonchalance, smiling slightly. “Don’t die.”

The hero smiled back.

—————————

“You idiot,” the hero hissed, hands frantic. They didn’t know where to press, which wound to try and stop first. The sidekick coughed weakly.

“I had it handled,” the hero’s voice broke.

The sidekick managed a pained wheeze that might have been a laugh.

“Mhm. Yeah.”

“It’s Supervillain, why—“ the hero tipped their head upwards, tears slipping from their eyes.

The sidekick whimpered, slightly. “You could have gotten hurt.”

The hero pressed their hands onto the chest wound.

“And you getting hurt is okay?”

The sidekick didn’t answer. When the hero looked up, their eyes were closed.

“Hey, no no nonono don’t do this to me, sidekick, hey,” the hero scrambled, fingers slick with blood, heart pounding. “Don’t die.”

A curse, an oath, a command, a prayer.

Don’t die.

The sidekick, just barely, smiled, tugging the hero down to whisper into their ear. Just two words. The two words.

The hero sobbed, shaking their head, pushing back to find a pulse—

And found the silence of a waiting grave.

—————————

“Don’t die,” the hero said to themselves quietly, pressing a piece of gauze to their side.

The medic watched them intently, eyes soft, but didn’t say anything.

They knew. The whole goddamn base knew.

And that was the only thing that would come out of the hero’s mouth.

“Don’t. Die.”

The medic’s mouth pressed into a thin line, eyes watering, and they vanished out the door.

The hero realized, then, that their cheeks were wet.

Two words.

An oath. A prayer. A command.

“Don’t die,” They whispered, and for a moment, just a moment, they could pretend it was sidekick saying it.

The very first words they had said to the hero.

And their very last ones, too, pained hushed whispers in the hero’s ear, a final breath.

“Don’t die.”

The hero started sobbing, then.

And they didn’t stop.

Don’t.

Die

could you write a snippet where hero and villain both show up at the same time to rescue civilian from supervillain please?

The hero’s pulse pounded in their ears, panicked and so loud–there was so much blood, oh god, they couldn’t tell where it was coming from–that they didn’t hear the villain behind them until they were slamming their elbow back into their ribcage. The villain caught it with one hand, running their gaze over the hero and their blood slicked hands as if assessing for injuries. When they did the same to the civilian, the villain went so still the hero wasn’t sure they were breathing.

The hero felt a little dizzy, actually, and they were trying incredibly hard not to cry, because that was their friend on the floor and they were never supposed to be involved in this–

“Hero,” the villain’s voice was stern, but not unkind. “Breathe.”

They choked on their next inhale, and the villain pressed against their chest with one hand until they breathed out again. There was something about the villain’s face, smooth and unyielding like stone, that pulled the hero into focus enough for them to suck in another breath.

“They need help,” they managed to gasp. The villain gave them a singular nod in confirmation.

“Yes. They do.”

“We need to–”

“You,” the villain interrupted, “need to calm down.”

“They’re dying.”

“And that’s not going to change if you’re too panicked to see straight. So take. A deep. Breath.”

Miraculously, the hero did. It was easier on the next breath, and the next, until their vision was clear and they could see the horror in front of them with all too much clarity.

The civilian was still breathing.

The villain released the hero’s elbow as soon as they realized the hero wasn’t about to panic again, grazing their fingers over the civilian’s tattered clothing in search of the worst wounds. They prodded something and the civilian winced, face bruised and entirely, blessedly, unconscious. “Pressure,” the villain gestured, and the hero. complied.

The hero knew better than to let up when the civilian, abruptly half-lucid from pain, tried to bat their hand away, but bile still rose in their throat.

“How are you so calm,” they said, and even they could tell their voice was slightly too close to hysterical. The villain glanced over at them, eyes dark, before ripping a makeshift tourniquet to tie around the civilian’s leg.

“I panicked once,” some memory, deep and dark and full of pain, flashed through the villain’s eyes. “I promised I wouldn’t do it again.”

The hero took the wad of cloth the villain handed to them, pressing it back down over the civilian’s stomach. It turned red under the hero’s fingers far faster than they would ever have wanted it to. Not that they would ever want it to, but if someone was bleeding they would at least want it to be slow–

“Oh,” they managed, voice strangled, and the villain took a moment to assess them once more. 

“Breathe,” the villain reminded. “They’re not dying. They’re beat up, but they’re stable. Emergency services are already on their way.”

The hero watched more blood well up around their hands. Pressed harder.

They would be digging red flakes out from under their nails for weeks.

“You’re normally calmer,” the villain remarked casually. If the hero’s brain wasn’t so stuck on the image of their friend bleeding below them, they would have recognized this for the distraction that it was.

“They didn’t choose this,” they whispered, throat raw. The civilian didn’t have powers, and they hadn’t chosen to use them for good or evil. They just lived, so kind and so normal.

“Neither does any other bystander,” the villain said.

“They’re my friend,” the hero willed the villain to understand, somehow, the enormity of this. The pain of knowing that it should have been them on the floor, that supervillain had done this because the civilian had been there and the hero had not.

A mistake of epic proportions. The biggest failure of their life. Not being there.

“So?”

“So it's my fault,” the hero’s voice broke, and they ducked their head down to hide the tears as they welled in their eyes. Distantly, they could pick up the barest trace of sirens, almost out of reach of their enhanced senses.

“Hero,” the villain said, voice gentle. “If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine.”

The hero shook their head–

“No, listen to me,” the villain’s voice gained an edge to it. “It’s not your fault. I pissed supervillain off this week. They know the civilian is my friend. This was deliberate to hurt me, and I need you to get it through your thick skull that there was nothing you could have done to stop this.”

The hero wasn’t sure who the villain was truly saying this to–the hero, themself, or the version of the villain that had panicked so long ago, and suffered for it.

“I could have–”

“You couldn’t.” The villain’s stare was all encompassing. The hero wanted to believe them. “Stop blaming yourself for the pain other people are causing.”

“That’s kind of my whole thing,” the hero tried for something light, airy. The both of them watched it fall flat off their tongue.

“No, it’s not. Your thing is saving people, not beating yourself up over everything you think you could have done better.”

The hero didn’t have a response to that. Just stayed staring at the villain as the ambulance skidded to a stop, the red lights flashing off the villain’s hair and eyes.

Someone reached for the hero’s hands, still pressed tightly to the wound, and they flinched away, gritting their teeth. 

The paramedic raised their gloved hands as if comforting an animal. “I’m here to help,” they said slowly. 

It felt terrible unclenching their hands, letting the paramedic take their place, sliding the civilian onto a stretcher an unending minute later.

The hero swallowed hard, knees numb against the pavement, and let the villain hook their arms under the hero’s armpits to haul the upright.

“Alright, there we go,” the villain murmured easily. The hero tracked the paramedics as they closed the doors of the ambulance. 

“I should–”

“No,” the villain interrupted. They seemed to be doing that more often than usual, the hero thought slowly. “You need to get cleaned up, and eat something.”

“I need to go to the hospital, I can’t just leave them alone,” the hero argued. They tried to jerk themself from the villain’s steadying hold, and failed.

“Trust me, they’ve got a whole team keeping them alive. They’re in good company.”

“I’m failing them.” It was an entirely irrational thought, but it stung in the hero’s chest, burning its way into their ribs as an ‘almost’ truth.

“You’re taking care of yourself so that you are able to take care of them. You can’t pour from an empty cup, and you're at empty. So, we’re going to get you some clothes that aren’t covered in blood, a sandwich, and go from there.”

The hero realized between one blink and the next that they were exhausted–bones aching and made of stone, dragging them down further with every second. By the time they reached the villain’s car, the only thing that was holding them up was the villain; the weight of panic and a too long day spent trying to save the entire city pressing down on them.

They were dumped into the passenger seat without fanfare, and if they weren’t so tired, they would have protested about the blood, or question how the villain had gotten their car here.

The villain slammed the door, settling themself into the driver’s seat a moment later. They dug through the center console, too dark for the hero to make out what they were grabbing, before they scrubbed the hero’s hands with a baby wipe. 

They had the engine started before the hero had a chance to look down at their own–now clean–hands.

“It’s not your fault,” the villain said again. Their tone left no room for argument.

“You keep saying that,” they watched as the city lights flickered through the car windows. “Why?”

The villain’s jaw clenched in the periphery of their vision. When they answered, it was so soft and quiet the hero almost didn’t catch it.

“Because nobody said it to me.”

The hero let their head slump against the window, half-asleep as they watched the roads vanish behind them.

“Hey,” they said quietly. They didn’t have to look up to know the villain’s attention was solely on them.

Sleep pulled on them until their voice was little more than an exhaled breath. 

“It wasn’t your fault.”

The villain sucked in a shuddering breath.

“It isn’t your fault.”

Before sleep managed to swallow them whole, the hero swore they caught a single tear streaking down the villain’s cheek.

#4 - Drugged

When [Villain] opened the door of the cell, they saw nothing. The small room was pitch-dark, only letting the dull light of the corridor inside.

“[Hero]?”, they whispered lowly, not daring to speak any louder. “Where are you, we need to talk.”

It had been a real helltrip to sneak inside [Supervillains] mansion. [Villain] prayed to all gods they knew that nobody had seen them. If someone had, the aftermath would be fatal.

They did not want to think about it; just the mere idea made them shudder.

When there was no answer from [Hero], [Villain] stepped inside. It was safer anyways, because the sequence in which the guards controlled the cells was unknown to them. The risk of getting caught was much lower if they hid with their enemy.

After closing the door softly, [Villain] needed a moment until their eyes eased into the gloomimess of the cell. There were many dark splatters on the floor (probably blood, they thought) and a huddled figure, miserably crimped into the corner. [Hero]. [Villain] could not suppress the wave of pity that washed over them when they saw in what wretched condition their nemesis was. They knelt in front of them, putting a hand on [Heros] shoulder.

“Hey…” [Villain] whispered, “You need to get up, I will bring you out of here.” They gently nudged them. “Come on, we don’t have the time to dally.”

But [Hero] did not move. [Villain] frowned and inspected their body. There were no deeper injuries severe enough to cause this comatose state.

A distant noise halted their thoughts and made them look around nervously.

They shook [Hero] again, this time fiercer. “Get up. I don’t know when one of their minions comes past!”

[Hero] gave a faint murmur, twisting their head a little bit to the side.

They were adressable.

…Well, at least a little bit.

“Come on, we have to hurry. Can you walk?”

[Villain] grasped [Heros] arm to pull them up and frowned when they touched the bare skin. [Heros] body temperature was far too high. “What has happened to you?!”, they hissed, irritated by [Heros] dullness. “I don’t see any wounds that-”, [Villain] froze in the middle of the movement.

There were several punctures in the crook of [Heros] arm, fresh and old ones. When [Villain] twisted their arm to get a better look at the red dots, their foe gave a painful moan.

Oh…

Oh no.

They slapped [Hero] in the face. That could not be true.

[Villain] looked at the little wounds again, making sure they did not hallucinate. But the small entries to [Heros] veins were still there, some also inflamed and festering.

Hot anger was slowly rising in [Villains] chest, mixing with the cold fear that crept up their spine. [Supervillain], that bastard. They had drugged [Hero]. They had made them completely helpless, not able to do anything to defend themselfes. [Villain] felt nauseous.

There was a noise again -this time nearer- that cut harshly into their thoughts. The guards had to be checking every cell, also looking inside them.

Fuck.

The panic started rising in [Villains] body. “Come on, wake up! I need you here!”, they begged, shaking [Hero] violently by the shoulders. “Fuck, I can’t carry you all the way back!”

Oh god… What if [Hero] did not wake up at all?

“…’s that… you… [Villain]…?”

They jumped at the sound of [Heros] slurred voice.

“what…’re you… doin’ here…?”, they breathed. Every word [Hero] said was articulated with a huge difficulty. But they were awake and adressable and that was all [Villain] needed.

Never had they ever felt such a strong sense of relief like the one that washed over them right now.

“Yes! Yes, it’s me! I will get you out of here!”, they exclaimed euphorically, “You need to stand up.”

“Why would you… help me…?”, [Hero] asked, eyelids fluttering. They nearly slipped back to unconsciousness again, but [Villain] grabbed both of their cheeks, forcing them to keep eye contact. “Hey, you stay with me! I will explain you everything.”

They grasped [Heros] wrists and pulled them up, laying an arm around their shoulder.

“But first… I will bring you out of here.”

#5 - Recorded

[Sidekick] frowned when they looked at the tape they found in the doorway this morning. It was wrapped in blank paper, no notes or mailing adress added. Just an old cassette, already rewinded to be watched.

“What even…”, they murmured to themselfes, slowly turning the VHS video in their hands as they were sitting over a steaming cup of coffee. Was this some kind of commercial? A new and creative way to advertise?

They decided to take closer look at the video later. It was probably just some silly gimmick or a joke from one of their teammembers.

Right now, [Sidekick] had business to do.

They rose and shuffled to their phone. After dialing the number they could recite in their sleep by now, they waited for [Hero] to pick up. It was a call of importance: Just the day before, their boss had managed to collect useful information about [Villains] whereabouts, which may have been the biggest success since they had started hunting them down. They only needed to make up a plan and the thing would be off the table tomorrow.

Seconds passed and [Sidekick] impatiently tapped their foot on the floor. [Hero] hadn’t picked up yet. Normally, they were really fast on the telephone, but today seemed to be different.

[Sidekick] hung up and tried again after a couple of minutes. Still, nothing.

“Come on! We agreed to phone at this time!”, they murmured into the reciever, slightly annoyed already. What was so difficult about being punctual? [Sidekick] strolled around in their apartment, still waiting for their boss to answer.

They hung up again. What a prat.

Well, [Sidekick] thought defiantly, if [Hero] had the nerves to keep them waiting, they could also niggle around for some time and let them wait for their call. Such a game could be played by two.

But what was to do? They looked around, eyes landing on the video tape.

…Better than nothing.

They pushed it into their old recorder, already thinking about the tongue-lashing they were going to give [Hero], if they dared to complain about the delay of their planning session. [Sidekick] scoffed, shaking their head. How could someone be so frowsy?

The tape whired in the VCR, only producing a static contact noise for a few moments. Then, there was a picture:

A sparsely illuminated room, only offering concrete walls and a chair that stood in the middle.

What the-

[Sidekick] had not even time to be confused. After a couple of seconds had passed, someone started speaking, lightly tapping on the camera a few times: “Test. Test. Alright, we seem to be recording! Bring them in!”

Although [Sidekick] knew that tone instantly, they couldn’t classify it in the first moment. Only when two people dragged someone towards the chair and chained them on it, they were able to recognize the smug voice: [Villain]!

The delay of the telephone conference with [Hero] was forgotten instantly.

What had [Villain] in mind?

When [Sidekicks] gaze wandered to the person tied on the chair, their stomach turned violently. The captive was badly injured, head hanging lowly between their slumped shoulders. Barely concious.

The floor was covered in blood and vomit.

“You sadistic asshole…”, [Sidekick] murmured.

With unhurried steps, [Villain] entered the picure. When they stood directly in front of the camera, they flashed [Sidekick] an amiable smile, sending chills down their spine.

“I heard you guys were looking for me?”

[Villains] voice was far too mild for a situation like this. When the person on the chair noticed their captors presence, they struggled violently against the chains. [Villain] didn’t even blink.

How could someone be so cold?

“I have the information from a good source, you know? You guys are going to hunt me down in the next couple days…”

They started pacing around thoughtfully and casted a pityful glance into the camera. The pity did not reach their eyes.

“…I am sorry to tell you that this plan will come to nothing.”

After circling the room, [Villain] placed themself closely behind their captive, putting both hands comradely on their shoulders.

“My special guest here will ensure it.”

They grabbed them by the neck and whispered something inaudible into their ear. [Sidekick] saw the heavy shudder that ran through the abused body.

This sick bastard.

[Villain] hummed and a menacing smile appeared on their features as they kept on caressing their now shaking victim.

“They will keep your silly team quiet for a long time…”, [Villain] murmured and suddenly grabbed a fist full of their convicts hair, yanking their head up harshly.

“…Won’t you?”

[Sidekicks] eyes widened in sheer horror, as the dull light finally revealed the face of [Villains] captive:

“[H…Hero]?”

(#6 is for @annalisemarlene56 who sent me the very first request for this blog! Thank you so much, I hope you enjoy! 💕)

#6 - Captured

“Let go of me, you fucking bastards!!”, [Hero] snarled, struggling heavily against the firm grip of the two strangers that dragged them out of their flat.

What was happening here? Had they been found?

[Hero] glanced up towards their kidnappers. They were pushing them through the stairway without any emotion on their faces. As if things like this were part of an everyday-job. “Listen:”, they tried to reason, “I don’t have any money or rich family members to blackmail. I can barely afford my own apartment! So please let me go!!”

“We don’t care about your money.”, one of them stated bluntly. [Hero] looked at them again and noticed the really expensive-looking suits that both of their abductors wore.

Yeah, money seemed to be one of the last things these guys had to care about.

They were pushed through the door and towards a parking lot, farther away from the streets. “H-Hey…”, [Hero] began, gulping. “You don’t have to do this…You know, I have a good friend who can help you to get out of this kind of business and-”

[Hero] flinched when one of their captors pulled out a gun. “You say one more word and I’ll shoot you right here.”, they menaced and looked [Hero] dead in the eye. “You want that?”

Numbly, [Hero] shook their head, quivering hands lifted in the air. Their abductor gestured with the gun. “Move.”

After some minutes of walking, the group approached a big car in the far back. They stopped in front of the vehicle.

“Get in.”, one of the captors commanded.

[Heros] face ashened. “What?”

The lackey lifted the gun: “I said: Get in.”

Without farther protest, [Hero] obeyed. It was senseless to fight. Neither had they a weapon nor an opportunity to flee. Preparing themself for the worst, they softly opened the back door and took in a deep breath before entering the vehicle.

The first thing [Hero] noticed was the cleansiness of the obviously new car. Unintentionally, they thought about their own vehicle in which the rests of their two-weeks-ago-trip to McDonalds were still rotting on the backseats.

For a brief moment, [Hero] nearly felt amused by the comparison, but a smooth voice catapulted them back to reality:

“Please put on your seatbelt.”

They jerked around and met a face too familiar from crime reports and mugshots: [Villain].

Dressed in fancy clothing and jewellery.

…Weren’t they supposed to be in prison?

[Hero] was too baffled to understand the order, so the nationally wanted criminal repeated it for them: “Please put on your seatbelt.” [Villains] voice was polite and steady, not in any way how [Hero] imagined it.

Numbly, their fingers fumbled for the cold piece of metal on their left side, plugging it into the clip shakingly.

“Thank you, safety is important.”, [Villain] stated and turned to the driver. “Let’s go.”

[Heros] head spinned. They were getting captured. They were getting captured by one of the most delinquent individuals in the world and had no idea what to do. Even as the car started, the only thing [Hero] could do was stare at [Villain], who seemed to be the only one enjoying this situation.

“So…”, the criminals voice oozed into [Heros] mind, “First of all, let me thank you for your cooperation. I hope, my people were not too harsh to you?”

[Hero] looked at them dumbly.

What kind of sick game was this?

They tried to read anything from [Villains] smug features, but there was nothing.

[Hero] ignored their captors question. “Why am I here?”, they asked instead, trying to collect themself.

“…Are you… Are you going to kill me?”

To their surprise, [Villain] raised their eyebrows and let out a little snicker. “Kill you? Oh no.”, they laughed, “If I wanted to see you dead I wouldn’t have bothered to get you here.”

“What the hell do you want then?!”, [Hero] asked currishly. They’ve had enough of this fucking guessing game.

[Villain] just smiled and held out their hand: “To be honest: I need your help, [Hero]. You are on my radar since a fairly long time now and the powers you posess are beyond everything I have ever seen.”

[Hero] stared at them in utter disbelief.

…How did they know about their powers?

“Aw, don’t look at me like that! You know what I am talking about.”, [Villain] stated cheerfully, still extending their hand. “No false modesty!”

So, they had been found. And of all things by a varmint like [Villain]. [Hero] glanced out of the tinted window, past their captors head. They had not even tried to remember the route the car was taking. Shit.

Unimpressed by [Heros] silence, [Villain] kept looking at them with this unnerving friendlieness. When it was clear that [Hero] wouldn’t answer, [Villain] just shrugged and put down their neglected hand: “You are not good at taking compliments, huh?”

“Just tell me what you want.”

[Villains] smile grew wider. “Well...” They made a dramatic pause. “You are the key… To help me defeat [Supervillain]!”

…

What?

“Come on, a little more enthusiasm, please!”

[Hero] shook their head, face expressionless. “I won’t help you.”

What did they even think?

Strangely enough, [Villain] looked at them with a pityful sympathy. “Sorry, but I think you will.”, they said. The confident tone made [Hero] frown.

“If you know my abilities as good as you claim, you will also know, that you can’t force me to help you with your craving for power.”, [Hero] replied. They grew irritated with their captors strange serenity.

[Villain] gave them an ominous smile. There was something sinister in their eyes that [Hero] hadn’t noticed before. “I can force everybody to help me with my craving for power.”

Before [Hero] could say anything, [Villain] grabbed them by the neck and harshly pulled them towards their face. [Hero] yelped in surprise.

“You will be working for me sooner than you think, my friend.”, [Villain] murmured. “I have the resources to make you my lackey in less than a week.”

[Hero] could not surpress a shudder. “L-Let go of me!”, they hissed, turning their head away. “I won’t do this! Not for you!”

[Villain] removed their hand, leaning back into their seat. “We’ll see soon enough.”

A really bad feeling started rising in [Heros] chest. They shifted uncomfortably, forcing themself to look away from their captor.

Even though they tried to resist it, [Villains] words echoed through their head.

‘I have the resources to make you my lackey in less than a week.’

[Hero] clenched their fists.

No. They would not help them. Never.

They would be strong enough for everything [Villain] had in store for them.

Wouldn’t they?

(This prompt spooked around in my head for a really long time. 🤣 I know the season does not quite fit, but compassion and the spirit of Christmas are always valid, no matter the time of the year! 🌲 Please enjoy! 🖤)

#7 - Cold

[Hero] walked through the snowy streets, trying to take in everything that their eyes registered. The change in weather had been so sudden that no one in the city had taken precautions against the surprising winter. Only one week ago, the news had reported about “A surpassingly long term of really mild temperatures” for this autumn.

…How far that was away right now.

They looked down to the ground. It must have been already five inches. And it continued steadily. No busses, trains or taxis would drive this evening, maybe not even tomorrow. The whole city was astonied.

Rationally, [Hero] had every reason to be pessimistic about that. Everything was chaotic, locomotion was limited and their flat was isolated like shit eversince, allowing the freezing air to creep directly inside of their home.

Still, it felt peaceful. It seemed like everything was set into slow motion. The usual stress was muted by the tons of frozen water that sailed down the sky, making everything quiet.

[Hero] wondered when they had seen snow the last time. It must’ve been years. They didn’t know they had missed it so much.

Maybe, [Hero] mused in their thoughts, they would even go to one of the Christmas markets tomorrow, just for the feeling of it.

Their eyes glid over the white alleys and a silent smile appeared on their features. Yes, they would go. They would go and enjoy themself. Take a break from their busy job and let their soul rest for some time.

They took a few more turns and just decided to go home, when they noticed something strange.

A shadow, only a few feet ahead of them. [Hero] approached with slow steps and frowned.

Their eyes widened when they recognized what the bulky umbrage in the white snow was: A person. Not moving and in a curled up position.

“Hey!”, [Hero] called, hastily making their way towards them, “Hey, are you alright?” They kneeled next to the figure and gently shook them by the shoulder.

“Are you conscious? It’s far too cold here to-”

The words got stuck in their throat, when they turned the stranger around and the shadows revealed who was laying in front of them:

[Villain]. Bloody and bruised.

[Hero] took in a sharp breath, instantly jerking away from the criminal. Their hand glid automatically to the place where their weapon would normally be, but there was nothing. They must have left it at home. Shit.

They looked around frantically.

Was this a trap?

Were [Villains] henchmen still here?

“D-Don’t worry…I-I’m alone…”, a faint voice murmured. It belonged to [Villain].

[Hero] looked down. Their actual nemesis had turned their head around, hazy eyes looking at them in a disoriented manner.

“A-Are you.. M-my guardian Angel…?”

Now that the lights shone onto them, [Hero] noticed the bruises that were covering [Villains] pale face. Their nose was broken too. All around were footprints and crimson splatters in the shuffled snow.

Paying closer attention, [Hero] also saw the little shudders that ran through [Villains] maltreated body.

How long had they lain here?

“[Villain], what-…What has happened to you…?”, [Hero] asked hesistantly, still scanning the street for unwelcome attackers.

The criminal simpered blearily. [Hero] had never seen them smile, only grinning and sneering. Like this, [Villain] nearly looked like a decent human being. “I-I… didn’t t-take care… of m-myself…”, they murmured. They looked up to [Hero] with misty eyes. “..w-was s-so..stupid…”

[Hero] was astonished. Did [Villain] even know who was kneeling in front of them?

They looked around once again. It could be such a perfect way to lure them into their enemies claws. No one was approaching the streets and the snow would silence any kind of fight or action. They would be gone within a second.

[Villain] just had to make them feel pitiful enough to forget their cover.

But what if it was not a trap?

[Hero] was at loss. They could not just flee and let [Villain] be perished by the cold. They would never forgive themself, if there was even the slightest chance that their enemy was actually in danger.

All the time, [Villain] kept their mellow gaze on them, their fluttering eyelids already sprencled with frost.

“Goddamnit.”, [Hero] chuntered. Their voice filled with frustration. “Why didn’t I go home one alley ealier?”

They were caught between the devil and the deep blue sea. But they had to do something.

Swallowing their fear (and probably all of their common sense), [Hero] decided to take a closer look at [Villains] state. They cautiously approached their nemesis and gently pushed a hand into the collar of their shirt, still looking out for any attacks.

[Villains] skin was terribly cold. [Hero] gulped when they found the pulse: Far too low. “Can this be true..?”, [Hero] questioned themself before removing their fingers carefully.

Was [Villain] really howering between life and death?

“T-they.. attacked m-me..”, [Heros] nemesis breathed suddenly. Their gaze told [Hero] that they were only moments away from falling unconscious. “I c-can’t m-mo..ve.. m-my legs… i-i’m..s-so col…d..” [Villains] eyes flickered and finally, their head sank down onto the pavement.

Oh god… This really wasn’t staged.

What the hell should they do now? Nobody would be able to take [Villain] prisoner in this snowstorm. Nobody-

Suddenly, [Hero] froze. No one knew that they were here. No one knew that [Villain] was here.

The realization of the perfidious plan slowly perlocated through [Heros] mind: Someone had attacked and purposely dumped [Villain] here to let them die a slow and lonely death. The weather was perfect to avoid unwanted spectators and killed everyone who stayed too long within only a few hours. [Villain] had been made immobile and was left without any chance for rescue.

There was only one unforeseeable factor that could still cross that plan: [Hero].

What were the odds that someone else would find [Villain] in time? All the way through the streets, [Hero] hadn’t seen a soul. It was a tight time slot, exclusively open for them. [Hero] shuddered.

The choice about their enemies’ life laid in their hands.

Looking down, they noticed that [Villain] had stopped shivering. Their skin was slowly starting to turn blue.

One more hour and they were dead.

[Hero] had to make a decision. Now.

…Rationally, [Hero] knew that they should just leave them.

No one would suspect a thing. Hell, authorities would even be glad, if [Villain] was gone. There wouldn’t be any further investigations that could damage [Heros] reputation and mark them as a criminal. They would be save and sound.

Also, if [Hero] saved them, everything [Villain] did in the future would automatically redound upon them. No matter if other people knew it or not, [Hero] would be at least partially responsible for [Villains] crimes.

They had to think about leaving them here.

But [Villain] was a human being. They were a person. A fucking criminal, a pain in the ass and an arrogant slug, but still: A person.

[Villain] was just as human as [Hero] and their team were.

God, what should they do? Wasn’t [Hero] on the good side? Shouldn’t they help others whenever it was possible? Even when the person in misery was [Villain]?

“[Villain]. Who robs, blackmails and threatens other people. Who brings nothing but trouble. You really think they are worth saving?”, a sharp voice in [Heros] head asked. It sounded just like the one of their boss. “They are trash, nothing more.”

“Trash…”, [Hero] echoed silently.

Yes, that’s what [Villain] was for their company. Not a person: Trash. A disruptive factor.

Taking a decision, [Hero] turned away and took a few steps.

It was true. They had to leave them. Everyone would be better off without [Villain]. Everyone would be safer.

…This was the right thing to do.

…But…

“Goddamn it!”, [Hero] cursed and shook their head, hastily walking back to [Villain].

No. They couldn’t do it.

They couldn’t fucking do it.

Never would they forgive themself, if they extradited someone to death. Maybe their bosses were like that, but [Hero] wasn’t. They couldn’t just let someone die because it was easier. Or because that person was in the way. Because they didn’t conform [Heros] moral standards.

They didn’t care if it was weakness, but [Hero] was not like this.

They couldn’t let [Villain] die.

They just couldn’t.

Crouching down again, [Hero] moved closer towards their enemy and tried to sit them up. [Hero] took off their own coat and wrapped it tightly around [Villains] chilled body.

They would help them.

[Hero] wouldn’t let their enemy die in the snow.

When they lifted them up, [Villain] murmured something inaudible before their head fell down onto their saviors chest. Half-dried blood smeared into [Heros] shirt.

They gulped nervously. Doubts, anxiety and guilt were rising up in their chest.

This was insane… This was so fucking insane.

“Don’t make me regret this!”, [Hero] hissed to their foe before struggling up their feet.

“Don’t make me fucking regret this!”

Let's all just appreciate @evilbuildingsblog for giving the best inspo for Villain mansions! 😎🖤

I mean...

Just look... 🙄

...At this! 😍👌

You are so helpful to write a setting with a glowy, dark and powerful atmosphere! 😁🖤

(This one is for @saidainabook! 🖤 To be honest, I struggled for a fairly long time to come up with something for your request, but here we go! 😄 I’ve split the snippet because I’m still missing a few pieces for an ending I feel satisfied with, so maybe the title might seem a bit confusing for now. 😅 Anyhow, please enjoy the first part! 😊🖤)

(❗TW: Explicit Language, Explicit Physical Violence, Loss of trust❗)

#8 - Sacrifice (pt. 1)

Dusk. The day ended with glistening streaks of ruby and amber, bathing everything in a grave erythrean light. The firmament looked like a painting created by someone who never saw the dark sides of life; never got to know that after day and dusk the only thing that followed was darkness.

Someone who knew nothing about anger, fear, disappointment or loss. About emptiness. Hatred.

About betrayal…

They were sitting in front of [Villains] estate. [Hero] had slung their arm around [Villains] shoulder and mumbled sweet nothings into the other ones’ ear. Both were watching the last light of the dying sun that slowly sank beyond the horizon.

It would have looked like a tawdry love scene, if [Villain] wasn’t behaving so passive: The criminal did not move, their darkened eyes remained firmly on the ground. Even when [Hero] playfully nudged them and placed a warm hand on their back, [Villain] stayed still.

It had been only a few days since they found out.

A few days since [Villain] knew that their lover was playing a foul game: Apparently,[Hero] was a turncoat. Spied for the scurvy assholes that tried to hunt them down since the very first moment their relationship had started.

It were only a few days to ruin everything that had ever mattered to [Villain].

Only by accident, one of their observers had seen [Hero] with [Sidekick]. Talking amiably. Exchanging information.

When they’d told their boss, [Villains] first reflex was to rip their minions’ throat out: ‘What do you mean, you saw them together?!’, they had hissed, their anxious spy firmly pinned against a wall. 'You think this is a joke?!’

How could they even say something like that? [Hero] was with them now. They had abandoned their old life and all of their self-righteous friends. [Hero] had chosen them.

[Villain] had nearly suffocated their lackey before coming to their senses. 'Where did you see them?’, they had asked, calmer this time. 'Show me.’

And so, things had taken their course.

The only reason [Villain] had listened in the first place was the sheer ridiculousness of the accusation: [Hero], a fink. Hah. They were their lover and nothing else.

But then, reality had painfully dawned on [Villains] utopia and all the little things that seemed to be so meaningless before suddenly moved into the cold light of [Heros] surveillance: Their lovers’ absence, their excuses and their oh-so-many questions. The childish innocence of their relationship was gone in a second, just as [Villains] trust.

“That can’t be true, right..?”, [Villain] had asked [Henchman] just after seeing [Hero] and [Sidekick] talk with their own two eyes.

“They… They love me!”

But [Hero] hadn’t loved them.

Not for a single moment.

Slowly, [Villain] had to realize that [Hero] never was the kind, tolerant and sympathetic enthusiast they portrayed themself as: They were a hard-bitten spy, ready to go to any lenghts to harm [Villain] and their doings.

Well, [Hero] had succeeded.

They knew everything about [Villains] plans. About their base, their subordinates and anything else that could be relevant to take them down. Only because [Villain] was dumb enough to fall for [Heros] bullshit. Dumb enough to fall in love with their fucking nemesis.

[Villain] could only scoff at their own idiocity. Their blindness. They were too naïve, always had been. And [Hero] had unhesistantly used that.

Had used them like a damn toy; utilized their feelings to crusade against the entity of their fucking existence. It was humiliating, threatening and enraging, but above all it was painful.

So damn painful.

Even though [Heros] lie had been more than predictable, it hurt. It hurt so fucking much and that was the thing [Villain] hated the most about this situation.

They hated it, because they shouldn’t be bothered. [Villain] was supposed to be calm and collected, already planning ahead the next steps to down this arrant infiltration. Instead, they were like a love-struck and heartbroken teenager, only because they had been stupid enough to believe every single lie [Hero] told them:

I will stay with you, [Villain].

You are so important to me.

I love you.

Those words… Nothing had given them more peace in their entire life.

[Villain] knew that deep down, their soul had begged for those gestures of love, affection and kindness. Endearment that was a death sentence in the violent world they grew up in.

“Between asphalt and steel is no place for kindness.’, one of their old bosses always used to say. 'Emotions make you vulnerable. And vulnerability makes you a target.’

It was true. It was true and [Villain] hadn’t listened. They had given up their common sense to feel safe in an enviroment that had never given them safety.

To feel like they were wanted by someone. Belonged somewhere.

What a fatal mistake.

Before [Hero], [Villain] had always acted on the words of their boss: No matter what they did, they never allowed themself to feel pity or remorse. They had blackmailed, assaulted, tortured and even killed others and hadn’t cared. They’d been ruthless. They had epitomized criminal efficiency.

For their own survival, [Villain] had locked up anything that would’ve hindered them to become the perfect and error-free tool: Things like sympathy, altruism and kindness had been rotting so long in the depths of their soul that [Villain] had even started to believe those things had stopped existing inside of them.

It was [Hero] who came and proved them wrong. [Hero] who had convinced [Villain] that it was okay to show others mercy and kindness. Simply, because they did the same for [Villain].

Slowly, they had started to see their world from a different perspective. [Villain] had opened up, because [Hero] connected with them with reality. Made them feel whole for the first time in their life. Understood. Accepted.

…Hell, it sounded so stupid, but even loved.

[Villain] would’ve done everything to keep this feeling. They would’ve quit their crimes, spent their money to charity, apologised to everyone they had ever wronged. Hell, they would’ve even sold their fucking mansion, if [Hero] had told them to.

They only had to ask and [Villain] would’ve done everything.

But [Hero] hadn’t asked.

They’d never wanted [Villain] to become better. They had lured them into the trap of false safety and trust only to benefit from their credulity, not to make them a better person.

[Hero] had been a ghost light.

A light that was ceasing more with every minute, making space for the usual gloom in [Villains] soul. Their anger.

Slowly, they turned around. It was already difficult to make out [Heros] face in the crimson sunset.

[Villain] shook off the hand that was stroking their back the entire time. A soft kiss was placed on their neck, followed by the words that had once meant the world for them:

"I love you so much.”

Hah.

They balled their fists.

[Hero].

Why shouldn’t they just kill them? Kill their useless friends and everyone they had ever loved. Show [Hero] what it meant to be fucking hurt like this.

“[Villain]…?”

“I heard you.”, they answered and avoided to look into [Heros] seemingly aggrieved face.

Why should they keep playing this shitty game? Why should they keep making themself a fucking joke?

Hands ran down their arms, taking their own fingers and pressing them gently. It felt like acid. “What is it, [Villain]?”

Quit the fucking masquerade.

“You don’t mean it.”, they said, voice filled with an emptiness that made [Hero] look abashed with false confusion. After a short moment of hesistance, they cupped the criminals’ cheek. [Villain] stiffened distinctly.

“What are you saying? Why shouldn’t I?”, [Hero] smiled and caressed their tense face with their thumb. “You are the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

Fucking lies.

Sharply, [Villain] turned their head away. It was visible that [Hero] was starting to become irritated.

“What’s wrong with you today?”

[Villain] stood up. They needed the space, couldn’t bear [Heros] presence anymore. Every touch was pure mockery, every word so fucking humiliating.

Their back was turned towards [Hero], who stared at them with an atrabilious incomprehension.

“Huh? What’s wrong, [Villain]?”

“…Just answer me one thing, [Hero].”, they said almost quietly, trying their hardest to keep their voice from breaking. “Would you ever have told me?”

“Told you what?”

[Villain] turned around. Their face was blank.

“That you used the relationship to spy on me.”

“That I- What..” It was visible how the meaning of the words sank into [Heros] mind. How their eyes widened as they looked into [Villains] cold features, hardened from the anger.

Grave realization, followed by fear.

“[V-Villain], I-”

Before [Hero] could say anything else, [Villain] had already slammed a hard punch into their face.

(❗TW: Character death, Blood❗)

#9 - Over

The stars don't care about us.

[Villain] smiled deliriously, bloody teeth blazing up at the dark sky. The silverish lights glinted down without any judgement or interest.

They've witnessed so many crimes, so many tragedies. And still, they don't care.

[Villain] would die here. Two shots were enough to end their useless life underneath the clear firmament. Well. Every action had its' consequences, right?

"[Hero]...? Are you there...?", [Villain] wispered and stretched out their hand. Broken fingers brushed over the ones of their enemy, hesistantly asking them to return the touch. [Villain] felt how alien blood bedewed their fingertips.

[Hero] was bleeding out too. [Supervillain] had been cruel enough to make sure their life was ending right next to [Villains]. They didn't even know something.

They shouldn't have helped. Why had [Hero] helped? This had been [Villains] business, not theirs.

"Answer me... Please.", they huffed and lightly squeezed the other ones' hand. "Are you there?"

Only cold light.

"I am here, [Villain]." [Hero] answered and gently took the other ones injured hand into their own shaking fingers. "I am here."

Miles, miles and miles away.

They were breathing together, slowly and stertorously. It was over soon. They were laying on the hard concrete and waited for the minutes to pass.

Waited for the inevitable.

And the stars shine ever so brightly.

"I don't want to die, [Hero]."

"Me neither."

A single tear rolled over [Villains] cheek. They weren't sure, if [Hero] was crying too. "Thank you for being here. For... Helping me...", they mumbled and closed their eyes when the darkness started to surround them entirely. They pressed [Heros] fingers one last time. "Thank you... I-I never wanted to die... alone.."

[Hero] smiled weakly before closing their own eyes.

"...It's been a honour, [Villain]."

Why do all the sexy villains hold their wine glasses between their fingers like this

(I have never written animals, so here I go with my first snippet! 😁 I always thought there was way too less phobia-whump, so please enjoy.😄 Also, can anyone guess the dog breed?🙈)

❗(TW: Panic Attack, Severe Cynophobia, Humiliation, Blood)❗

#10 - Beg

"Fuck, get this thing off me!!", [Hero] screeched, trying to push themself further into the cold stonewall behind them.

"Goddamnit, [Villain]!!", they sobbed, eyes searching frantically for something like mercy in [Villains] face.

[Villain] just looked at them with raised eyebrows and was seemingly not the slightest bit interested in whistling their companion back. [Hero] grew desperate. "Get it off!!"

The amorphous shadow growled, ready to attack whenever it got the deadly command. "Get it fucking off, [Villain]!!"

[Hero] hated dogs.

German ones in particular.

The one in front of them was only held by the thin leash in [Villains] hand and pulled heavily into their direction. It would shred [Hero] into pieces, if their enemy let go. They just knew that.

[Villain] looked unimpressed. They made one step towards [Hero], who whimpered from fear. "I will, when you talk."

Desperately, [Hero] turned their face, blinking away the tears that started to rise in their eyes. The dog pulled ever so strongly.

"I can't talk!! I don't have anything!! I-"

Barking. Saliva. Teeth.

[Hero] squealed. They were gonna faint.

"Out!"

And it was quiet. The only thing audible was [Heros] heavy breathing. They sank against the wall with shaking legs; cold sweat was covering their ashened face.

[Villain] looked at [Hero] with a strange kind of fascination. "Your record says that you have a problem with dogs, but I never knew it was this severe.", they said, eyeing their enemy with a calculating curiosity.

[Hero] said nothing. Apart from the fear, the hot feeling of mortification rose in their chest.

They knew it wasn't rational.

Even though the fleabag [Villain] brought was a realistic thread, they shouldn't be standing there with quivering legs and tearing eyes.

[Hero] could handle worse forms of torture. All of them painful and degrading, but they could stand it. They could always stand it.

But dogs...

"You were attacked by one as a child, right?", [Villain] drawled and grinned when [Heros] eyes lowered in shame. "Funny that something so silly can drive you nuts now..."

[Villain] snickered and lightly pulled on the leash. "Up!" A deep growl emitted from the dark mutt that obeyed instantly. [Hero] could not avoid the cold shudder that ran down their spine.

"To be honest, [Hero], I didn't think you were such a wimp!", [Villain] mocked. The criminal saw the impact of their words in [Heros] abashed face and continued with a nasty smile: "For real, how did you even get so far in your fucking job? Probably slept yourself up, huh?"

"Fuck off...", [Hero] hissed and balled their fists. They felt the heat creeping up their cheeks. A huge clumb formed in their throat, making them want to vomit.

It wasn't rational.

It wasn't fucking rational.

[Hero] was strong.

Had the abilities to finish this in less than a minute.

Shouldn't even bother about [Villain] and their grilling, should've just turned and left this fucking situation.

It didn't work.

Didn't work because of those teeth viciously gleaming in front of them.

Paralizing.

[Villain] grinned and looked at their watch leisurely, unfazed by the trembling human in front of them. "You know, even though I love chatting with you, I need to hurry. My boss wants that info really bad."

[Hero] shook their head wordlessly. They had nothing. They couldn't talk, even if they wanted to.

The criminal ignored them.

"And also...", [Villain] casted a look towards their dog and looked back to [Hero] with a wolfish grin, "...she's getting hungry."

It was visible how [Hero] tried to collect themself. To force themself to keep calm despite [Villains] teasing and the growling of their companion.

[Villain] saw [Heros] fight for control, even though they were loosing more of it with every passing second.

"Well...", the criminal drawled and gestured towards the dog, "I guess we have a solution to that..."

They let go of the leash.

[Heros] eyes widened.

"[Villain], don't-!!"

"Sick'em!"

Brown-black fur was flashing into the light and [Hero] jerked up their hands with a desperate scream.

"NO!!"

The monster sank its' sharp teeth into [Heros] forearm. Crimson blood.

They violently tried to shake it off, but it didn't let go.

Wouldn't give up its' prey.

"Call it back, [Villain]!!"

It bit down again.

"Call it back!!!"

Oh god, it would kill them, if [Villain] didn't do something!

It would tear them apart.

Oh god, their arm.

"[Villain], do-" [Hero] choked on the words.

Docked tail.

Sharp teeth.

They couldn't think straight.

Listed dog.

Dangerous.

Their brain filled with black mist.

Couldn't breathe.

They were going to suffocate.

[Villains], voice, ringing in their ears: "Tell me what I want to hear."

Had nothing.

Gone in the abyss.

"I-I c-an't, I-"

No air.

They were suffocating.

Didn't [Villain] see that they were fucking suffocating?

[Hero] only shook their head. They couldn't breathe. There was no air around to fill their lungs with. Underwater.

A cold hand harshly grabbed their collar, pulling them up. "Calm down, you useless piece of shit!"

[Hero] yelped, when [Villains] fist connected with their ribcage. The crack was clearly audible.

"It's not that hard to talk, you fuckin' wussy!"

They dumped them on the ground.

Cold concrete. The smell of trash and piss in the run-down part of the city no one would search [Hero] in. Dirt that mixed with [Heros] own tears.

...And [Villains] voice, sharp as a knife.

They couldn't take it.

Couldn't take [Villain] standing nearby, as they gasped for the air that didn't seem to enter their lungs. Couldn't take it when [Villain] knelt down and grabbed their face with a cruel grin.

Where was the dog?

[Villain] only gave a chilly laugh.

"I sent her away." Then, sneering: "I can get her back if you want."

[Hero] frantically shook their head.

"I don't have anything!", they wheezed against the hands that had grabbed their wet cheeks. "Please, I don't have anything!"

An awfully triumphant grin formed on the criminals face. They pulled [Hero] closer.

"Huh...? What was that word?", [Villain] crooned in an almost gentle tone of voice.

Only now, [Hero] noticed what they just had said. Blood shot up their face.

"Say it again for me, come on. Or do you want one more round..?", [Villain] purred.

[Hero] sobbed.

No.

No more.

They couldn't take more.

Eventually, the need for survival pushed away the last bit of dignity inside of them, when they whispered:

"I-... P-please don't get it back... Please, [Villain]..."

The criminal pondered for a moment before shrugging their shoulders with a wide grin. "Hm. I guess you really are as useless as you claim. Still... Hearing you beg was worth the shot."

They stood up and gave [Hero] a last painful kick in their stomach.

"Tell me, does your team know what a sissy you are?"

[Hero] remained quiet.

The words hurt.

Hurt more than the kick, the broken rib or the arm.

Hurt, because they were true.

"If you were one of my henchmen, I would've killed you for being such a disgrace. You're lucky that your team is pitiful enough to keep you..."

[Villain] turned to leave, stepping out of the alley and whistling to get the dog. A last aspersion to put the boot in:

"Your weakness is really disgusting... You're pathetic, [Hero]."

[Villain] was long gone when [Hero] finally got up. Cold wind blew on their wet cheeks and their shaking body. Only too slowly, they managed to stop the wheezing. Took too long to get aware of their surroundings.

They were safe.

They were safe now.

With a pang, [Villains] voice echoed through their head:

You're pathetic, [Hero].

They let out a dry sob.

[Villain] was right.

It was true.

It was true and [Hero] knew it.

...They knew it wasn't rational.

I'm really uninspired to write atm, but have some fanart of my latest obsession