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whumpdedoodledoo · 3 days ago

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Villain's Rescue: the Reunion

MASTERLIST

[A/N: At last! I rewrote this like 3 times, but I think it was worth it.]

Tagging: @whumpsday @pumpkin-spice-whump-latte @octopus-reactivated @fanastyfinder @whumpy-arts-and-crafts @arsonfrogger @burtlederp @harri-00

CWs: drugging, panic attack, blood, hallucination mention, implied brain damage, (or mental problems at least)

Villain woke to the familiar sting in his elbow. As he cried out and thrashed, he realised he wasn’t restrained. He was laying down, on something soft, why was he laying down? It didn’t matter, he had to get the IV out, now! It was hard to grab the tube becauce of how his hands were shaking, and his breath was ragged and fast. Out, out, he didn’t want to lose anymore of himself, please! He yanked, and the bright red dripped down his pale arm in a solid line. It was kind of pretty. But it wasn’t out yet, he wasn’t strong enough. There was a dull ache, but he didn't even notice under his panic. He prepared to pull harder. Then, Hero had noticed what he had done and ran toward him.

“Villain, stop!”

Hero, tall, big-shouldered, angry, entered his vision, and Villain tried to scramble away.

“No, please, no more, you-you said, I wouldn’t have to go back unless I did something, please!” Though, the joke was on him for ever trusting his word.

Hero got on the bed (bed? Why was he in a bed?) and tried to pry his hand away.

“Villain, stop it! You'll hurt yourself!”

He was grabbing him, he was going to drag him back! Villain knew he shouldn’t, but he fought anyway.

“Please Hero, not the chair, don’t put me back, you said I didn’t have to, not again! Haven't you ruined enough? God, please!!”

A second pair of hands tried to take his trashing limbs. Smaller, younger. Was Sidekick here? He couldn’t focus enough to see. Hero’s low voice, which sounded a bit different than usual, was clipped.

“Villain, stop! I’m not Hero, you’re safe! Hey, look at me!”

Maybe, if he just behaved, Hero wouldn’t have to put him back. It took some tries, but Villain finally got his captor in his sight. Something was off about the picture, but he was too panicked to notice.

“Please, Hero, just stop hurting me, I’m sorry-”

“Shh, it’s okay. Look at me. What colour is my hair? What colour, Villain?”

Of course, Hero was blonde, what kind of question... Oh, wait.

Villain blinked, trying to clear his vision. The person holding him down had brown hair. The confusion was enough to finally still his limbs. He felt something warm run down his arm. Was he bleeding? When had that happened?

“What..?” he asked, suddenly feeling very tired and scared in a different way. “Who..? Wh-where am I? Where’s Hero?”

“I’m Vigilante, and you’re at my place. I got you out. Do you remember that?”

Flashes of memory ran through Villain’s mind, but they were hard to hold onto. The second he remembered, it would slip away again. Everything felt so fake, and his thoughts were like oiled up marbles.

Sidekick was crying softly, he heard, and he looked over at him.

Oh, but that wasn’t Sidekick. He was hallucinating again, it seemed. He saw Henchman. He screwed his eyes shut to not have to look at him. Sometimes his mind twisted the illusions into something scary, something that made him cry in terror. But then his vision was black, blindfold-dark, and he opened them again fast. Better to have visions than nothing at all. He settled on turning his head away from the delusion, which made him notice the IV again. Vigilante was still gripping his hand tight to keep him from tugging it.

“V-Vigilante?” he asked, unsure and scared of the answer. “Wh-why am I on drugs?”

“You’re not on- They're just fluids, and something for your fever. It's just medicine, Villain.”

The hallucination spoke, voice heavy with tears.

“Boss? Boss, can you see me?”

Villain flinched. If it wasn’t drugs, why was he seeing ghosts? Was Vigilante lying? What if he wasn’t Vigilante at all, and he was still at Hero’s place? He tried to push his tears enough to be able to speak.

“V-Vigilante.. Hero.. I don’t know who you are. I don’t know where I am, why am I on drugs again? Please, please get them out?”

Vigilante/Hero nodded. “Alright mate. I’ll remove it for you, I’m sorry they made you scared. No more IV, got it.”

“Thank you,” Villain breathed.

He thought he felt a small hand lightly his hair, appropriately ghost-like and barely there, and he curled up to pull away from it. Please let him return to sanity before the whispered accusations start, before the haunting began for real.

The illusion sounded distraught.

"Villain, I'm sorry. Please, I tried to rescue you as fast as I could, I promise. I didn't mean to leave you for so long, please look at me?"

Villain shook his head. Not real, none of this was real. It couldn't be, and he clung to reality with all he could. He just wished his senses would quiet down soon.

Even though it wasn't real, the crying next to him made his heart ache.

“Vigilante, why won’t he look at me?”

“I don’t know Hench, " Vigilante responsed. "Who knows what he’s seeing right now. He will, give it time.”

Every time Villain thought he had reached the peak of his confusion, his brain was thrown for another loop. He turned his pale blue eyes to Vigilante. Or rather, what he thought was him.

“Wh-wait. You.. Can you see him? Henchman, can you see him too?”

The brown-skinned man looked up from where he was pressing something to his elbow wound.

“Yes, of course I see him. It’s really him, I promise.”

“Boss?”

Villain looked back at the apparition of the young man. His curls, while still wild, were limp and dull, and he was skinnier. If Vigilante had heard him, had responded to his questions...

“Am I... Am I hallucinating you both?” asked Villain, weakly trying to grasp any kind of logic he could wring from his broken mind. Henchman sniffed his tears away. Oh, he’d always hated seeing him cry, and instinctively, Villain wanted to comfort the illusion.

“No Boss, please, I’m real! I survived, Vigilante got you out. I’m here, I’m here, please!”

He wiped his eyes with his sleeve, just like he had since he was a teen.

For a long moment, Villain just stared at him.

“They... They told me you died. Is it really you?”

Henchman nodded. He moved to hold his hand, but pulled it back at the last second. Perhaps he remembered how Villain had reacted, when he still thought he was a hallucination. And maybe he still was. Maybe Villain was dreaming. Either case, he decided not to waste the opportunity.

He reached up, and pulled the young man close to him. He gripped his turtleneck as tight as he could, and cried into his shoulder.

“William, I’m so sorry,” he sobbed, “I am so sorry, please forgive me, I-I should have kept you safer, I’m sorry!”

After a brief moment of shock, Henchman embraced him just as tight. He hiccuped through his sobs.

“Wh-what the hell are you apologizing for, Boss?”

Henchman ran his hand over Villain’s matted hair, swaying lightly from side to side. Just like Villain used to do to him. Villain melted into the touch, and for a moment, he felt safe. He still wasn’t sure what was going on, the memories of being rescued were too vague to be reliable. But even if it was a dream, he was happy.

“I’m so happy you’re back, Henchman. You know I love you, right? I-I never really said it, when you were alive, I should have.... I’m saying it now, I’m sorry, please don’t go.”

Henchman hushed him.

“It’s okay. I’m not going anywhere, Boss. I love you, too, and I knew. I always knew. And I always will.”

Villain nodded, feeling the relief flood his system and pulling him down into fogginess again.

“William.. I’m scared, I don’t wanna sleep.”

“Nightmares? Don’t worry, I'll stay right here.”

“N-no,” Villain explained in a soft whisper. “I’m scared I’ll wake up in the cell.”

And yet, he felt exhaustion pull at him. He clung to the living ghost tighter, who rubbed his back.

“Shh, it’s okay. I’m sorry this doesn’t feel real, but I promise it is. I’ll be right here, Boss, I’m not leaving you again. Tell ya what,” he softly laid Villain down on the bed, holding his hand and touching his shoulder to comfort and ground him. Villain feared that he would disappear if the touch went away.

“You don’t have to sleep. Just rest for a moment, with your eyes closed. No pressure, if you don’t sleep that’s alright.”

Villain felt a smile form on his face. It felt foreign, like his muscles weren’t used to it anymore. Vaguely, like poorly developed film, he remembered throwing a blanket over Henchman’s shoulders, while he still sat at his work desk. Just rest your eyes, he’d say. No need to sleep, just do nothing for 10 minutes. The kid would be so exhausted, he’d usually wake up somewhere in the afternoon.

“You... You stole my line,” he joked.

Henchman smiled too, through his tears. His cheeks were flushed and red, and the lamp behind him turned his curls golden around the edges.

“Alright, you caught me. You’re going to be alright. Just rest, and heal, so you can be yourself again.”

As Villain, against his will, was pulled back into unconsciousness, his last lucid thought rang through his head. A worry, nagging at him through his fuzzy happiness.

He was himself already.

This was just all that was left.

#behind the masks

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whumpdedoodledoo · 3 days ago

Note

Can you please draw that scene where Villain first goes into the chair and doesn't know what it is for yet?

You're lucky: I couldn't choose a moment, so here's two! (Both from the same chapter)

“Do you want to get in yourself, or should I put you in?” “I’d prefer to not get in at all,” confessed Villain.

“What the hell is it? Is it drugs? Oh, I bet it’s drugs, right? Wh-what kind? Hero? Please, just answer me!”

#behind the masks

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whumpdedoodledoo · 3 days ago

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Aftermath: Chris and Jackson fight

MASTERLIST

A/N this one follows about two weeks after this flashback. You guys really liked that chapter, so I felt inspired to write the aftermath!

Taglist: @pumpkin-spice-whump @octopus-reactivated @fanastyfinder @whumpy-arts-and-crafts @arsonfrogger @burtlederp @harri-00 @akito-fuckn-fear @potatoo-angst @sunflower1000 @whumpycries

CW: bullying, homophobia, gaslighting, emotional whump, Hero being a dick even in his younger years, minor whump (all characters involved are about 15)

Jackson heard Chris before he saw him: he chatted away at people as he made his way to the back of the bus, before throwing himself on the seat next to him. Jackson didn’t need to keep it free: ever since he’d pulled that “prank” on Amy, seats next to him were kept empty. It might be be his imagination, but he could swear that people stared at him in the hallways. And if the rumor he heard was true, he might know why. He kept his gaze on the grey morning through the window as his friend prattled on.

“Oof, I nearly missed the bus this morning. I swear, that driver has it out for me. Hey, did you do the assignment for math?”

Jackson shrugged. Finally, Chris took notice.

“You feeling alright?”

Jackson still didn’t turn around, but he made eye contact with Chris’s reflection in the window.

“Last week. Did you go out with Amy?”

His friend was silent for a moment.

“Why do you ask.”

Jackson tried to keep his voice level.

“Just answer the question: did you go out with her?”

“Yeah, what do you care?” Chris smirked, his braces shining like knives.

“Are you jealous of her?”

Jackson turned around in a flash, his face red, and punched him on the arm.

“Shut up!” he hissed, trying to turn his fear into anger. “I swear, if you say that stuff one more time-”

“You punched me.”

Something in Chris’s voice made Jackson freeze. His friend stared at him, his eyes wide and with a cold fire inside.

“Friends don't hit each other, even you should know that.” he said, fury making each word clear and piercing. Then, he stood up and went to sit with some other guys from his class. Hushed words were exchanged while Chris rubbed his arm and winced, and soon there were at least a dozen eyes aimed at him.

Shit.

----------

It was lunchbreak. He didn’t think Chris wanted to see him, and honestly, the feeling was mutual. He’d been holding an ice pack to his arm and whispering to people all day. Jackson didn’t hit him that hard, did he? He'd just wanted him to shut up, but now he was starting to regret it.

He stood in the cafeteria, lost. He only really hung out with Chris, so who was he supposed to talk to now? Well, maybe it didn’t hurt to make new friends.

He walked up to two guys from biology and pulled out a chair.

“Hey, do you guys mind if I-”

“That seat’s taken.” said the one with curly hair.

“Oh, sorry,” said Jackson, and he went to grab another one.

“That one’s taken too, actually.” The guy with glasses said. He could barely keep a straight face, and his friend let out a chuckle.

Jackson looked at the five empty chairs.

“So.... they’re all-?”

“Yeah,” Curly said, shoulders shaking with the effort to keep a straight face. “I’m so sorry.”

Jackson put the chair back. “Y-yeah man, no worries.”

“No worries,” Glasses said back, in barely disguised mocking tone.

Jackson ate his lunch on the staircase. Like a goddamn first year, without a claim to one of the tables. There had even been a couple of younger kids on the stairs, but they moved away when he sat down. He hadn’t fallen below them in the pecking order, at least.

Still, he felt like absolute garbage. Had everyone hated him all along? Or was it because he punched Chris that his popularity went down? Chris was pretty well-liked, and Amy was too... He buried his face in his hands.

“Hey.”

He looked up to see Chris, his arm in a sling. His face was still cold and furious, like a marble statue.

“What are you doing on the stairs.”

Jackson shrugged and kept his eyes down.

“I didn’t know where else to sit, I guess. It’s quiet here.”

Chris huffed and went to sit down too. He moved a couple steps higher than Jackson, so he had to turn around and look up to see his face.

There was an awkward silence between the two boys.

“Did you, like... talk to Evan and Gus?” Jackson asked at last. They had been the two boys that refused to let him sit with them. Chris raised his good shoulder.

“Not really. They knew about what happened with Amy, so they might be pissed at you for that. I don’t blame ‘em, it was a dick move.”

Jackson frowned. “Oh yeah? Did they also know you sat me up for that?”

“Sat you up?” Chris asked, as though it was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. “What, like I framed you for it? Like a mafia boss? Sorry, I’m not that clever.”

Jackson turned around more, looking up at his friend.

“No, I meant how you made me do it.”

“Made you do it?” asked Chris, sarcasm dripping from his voice. “Did I force you to? Me, force a big guy like you? At gunpoint, or what?”

“Stop that, you know what I mean! It was your idea in the first place!”

“I was joking!” Chris explained, speaking slowly like Jackson was stupid. “I was seriously, genuinely just joking, I didn’t think you’d actually do it until you were already gone!”

Jackson didn’t know what to say for a moment.

“...Really? Why didn’t you stop me, then?”

Chris rolled his eyes. “So first I’m forcing you to do things, now I’m responsible for not stopping you. You gotta own your mistakes, dude! It’s not my fault you can’t read social cues and took it too far. I already cleaned up your mess, by making sure Amy didn’t go home totally traumatized. You’re welcome, by the way.”

Jackson racked his mind. Had he really been joking? He did have an odd sense of humor sometimes... And he didn’t remember the exact words he’d used, so maybe he had misread the situation.

“Oh,” he said, feeling very dumb. “Was.. was Amy very sad?”

“Heartbroken,” Chris answered bluntly. “But luckily I swooped in to save her. She seemed happy at the end.”

Jackson was relieved. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

“As I said, you’re welcome.” Chris rubbed his arm again. “I could have explained this much sooner if you hadn’t assaulted me.”

Jackson winced. All this had been a misunderstanding, and now his reputation was bust. He needed Chris back in his corner like never before.

“I’m so sorry I did that, I promise I won’t hit you again.” he said. Chris looked down at him and hummed.

“Hmmm, I dunno if I wanna be friends with someone who jumps to conclusions like that. You didn’t even hear me out.”

Jackson felt his heartbeat rise. “I swear," he pleaded, "I’ll always trust your word before doing anything stupid, just give me one more chance! Please, can we be friends again?”

Chris thought for a moment.

“No.”

Jackson’s heart sank to his feet as his friend continued with a smirk.

“We can be best friends again.”

And just like that, thinks had gone back to normal. Jackson laughed with relief.

“You asshole.”

“Coming from you, that’s probably a compliment,” Chris joked. Jackson tried to ignore the way his guts twisted at that jab, though his smile faltered.

“Dude, please stop making jokes like that in public.”

“Relax, there’s no one here! But fine, I’ll stop.” Chris grinned. “If you let me copy your math homework.”

Jackson sighed and took out his notebook. Chris really did have an odd sense of humor, but he was his best friend. And he guessed that accepting quirks like that is just what best friends did.

#behind the masks

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whumpdedoodledoo · 3 days ago

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Behind the Masks: Ill-itting

MASTERLIST

tagging: @pumpkin-spice-whump @octopus-reactivated @fanastyfinder @whumpy-arts-and-crafts @arsonfrogger @burtlederp @harri-00 @akito-fuckn-fear @potatoo-angst

CWs: internalized ableism, nerve damage, arguments, meltdown

One morning, Vilian was awoken by a Vigilante talking on the phone. It seemed he was talking to his boss, asking for more hours.

“Yeah, I know I wasn’t in a lot. I’ve been taking care of that sick friend of mine.”

Villain blinked, still half-asleep, but being referred to as a “friend” was enough to catch him off guard. Although, it was probably just a lie Vigilante said to excuse his absence from work.

The conversation continued a little, before an agreement seemed to be reached. Vigilante sighed as he hung up the phone.

“Never thought I’d be glad to be overscheduled.” he muttered. “Good news is, we should be able to afford something other than noodles now.”

Villain felt something unpleasant in his gut. He already had Vigilante to thank for so much: he could lose his career and even his life if he was found harbouring two wanted criminals. Although there was no warrant yet, there was no way Villain’s escape hadn’t been noticed. Hero must be keeping it on the down-low as he searched, to avoid scandal.

Villain glanced around the crappy apartment. A thick, white paintjob on everything, even the outlets. A corner of the window was ductaped up, with cracks coming from it. The carpet looked like it might have been red, once upon a time, but it had faded to a grayish brown. Or perhaps a brownish gray, if you squinted.

Vigilante was “freelance”, meaning he wasn’t part of any official government program. Not anymore. This meant he could pick his own jobs, which usually involved dishing out justice for the people the authorities forgot. People who got into trouble, but weren’t keen to involve police, or didn’t have the funds to seek justice through the regular channels. And yes, at times he assisted with bigger jobs, like bank robberies or stopping Villain. The reward of those jobs was roughly triple what he usually got. But he didn’t fight crime for the paycheck: he wanted to help the city become safer, for everyone. For a guy who wanted to see him in prison and had beat him up numerous times, Villain had a kind of respect for him.

Being freelance, unfortunately, meant no government subsidies. No fancy lab, no superpower serum, not even insurance. He worked two dayjobs to support himself: as a martial arts teacher, and a custodian at the local police station. The latter allowed him a way to keep an ear on local criminal activities, and find the gaps in law enforcement. One would be surprised what you overhear when people think you don’t matter.

Those jobs, however, didn’t really make enough to support three people. Vigilante was very aware his apartment wasn’t made to accommodate two runaways: Villain slept in his bed, Hench took the couch, and he just threw anything soft he could find on a pile on the floor to sleep. Blankets, pillows, but also jackets and towels. It wasn’t that uncomfortable, really.

God, it had taken so very long to convince Hench to take the couch, back when Villain arrived. The kid had argued she’d slept on the street for months, so she didn’t need it. But that had just strenghtend his resolve. The argument had settled when Vigilante simply took the thin woman and dumped her on the couch. When she protested and tried to get off, Vigilante didn’t say a word and picked her back up. After repeating this about five times, she'd given up and stayed put for the night.

“Alright guys, I’m gonna grab groceries, and then I’ll head off to work. Will you two be okay?” Vigilante asked. Villian gave a thumbs up, as did Hench. Still, Vigilante knew he’d be thinking about these two all day.

Villain got dressed, as much as he could by himself. The buttons on his dress shirt were finicky, and even with the little aid that Hench put together for him, it made his right hand hurt.

Vigilante had tried his best to thrift something presentable. Despite his efforts, everything was wrinkly, too big, and smelled of cigarettes and mothballs.

Before his capture, Villain had prided himself on being low-maintenance. Why iron clothes, when that time could be spend working? But now, his disheveled appearance wasn’t by choice. He’d have to ask someone to iron or take in his clothes for him, and he refused to be that fussy. So, he wore his ill-fitting clothes and pretended it was anything like what he used to wear.

Besides, after spending a year in a simple shirt and shorts, even long sleeves felt like a luxury. It made him feel like a person.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t do it all by himself. Seated on the edge of the bed, he’d pulled the pants up to his knees. But his unreliable leg and low energy meant that he couldn’t stand for longer than about 10 seconds without falling. He swallowed what little pride he had left.

“Ada, could you..” He sighed, and mumbled. “..help me out here?”

Despite his low volume, she'd heard him. She must have been waiting outside the bedroom door. Villain pushed down his embarrassment. That feeling had no use to him anymore.

With his right arm, he clung to Ada, and his left tried to pull up the pants. It didn’t work very well. He had to balance on his wobbly left leg. It was his “good” one, though it might be more accurate to call it his “better” leg. He was shaking.

“Wait, let me...” Hench didn’t finish her sentence and reached over to help.

“No!” said Villain, and turned his hips away. Like he could actually stop her from doing anything. He felt like a petulant toddler.

“Just... give me a moment. I can do this.”

“Alright, boss. Take your time.”

Hench spoke so carefully lately, a little bit slowly. Villain would have told her to knock it off, if it didn’t make it a little easier to understand her sometimes.

He resumed his clumsy pulling, which get rougher and increasingly frustrated. His long hair got in his face, more so than it usually was.

He couldn’t see well through the overgrown birdsnest, and the brushing strands made him feel gross. With a huff, he pushed the hair back. The second his hand let go of the trousers, they fell down.

“God damn it--!” He tried to reach down, while also balancing and hanging onto Henchwoman, and his stupid hair fell back in his stupid face, and now he was crying stupid tears, and he was losing his grip-

“Woah, boss, easy! You’ll fall, hang on!”

He was pulled back to sit on the bed, as he was still reaching for those godforsaken pants. No wonder the kid didn’t respect him anymore. He might pretend, but Villain knew better. He was dumb, and slow, and broken, and his godforsaken hair was back in his face again! Cursing under his breath, he tried to brush it away, but it kept falling.

His fingers got caught in the knots, and he pulled, hard. The lighting bolt of pain in his scalp relieved his frustration somewhat. So he did it again, even harder.

When Hench tried to pull his hands away, he struggled.

“Stop!” he yelled through his tears. “I want to- I can do it myself! I just, I need-”

He lost his balance and fell backwards on the bed. He shook his head from side to side, as though his hair were pesky flies he was trying to get off. He wasn’t sure if his cursing was aimed at his hair, himself, or just the world in general.

“Boss, stop it! What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” Villain asked, incredulous. His disbelief almost overshadowed his meltdown. “What’s right, Ada? I can’t dress, I can hardly stand, m-my stupid clothes are wrinkled-” Villain’s voice broke. What a foolish thing to get this upset about.

“I just... What’s left?”

Now that the adrenaline had faded, his scalp hurt. He rubbed it, and grimaced at the feeling of heavy tangled hair.

“Hench, please get me some scissors, I am sick of this.”

Henchwoman didn’t move from her spot. She frowned.

“Boss, I don’t think-”

“Get me some scissors,” Villain repeated, sitting up, “Or I will get them myself.”

“But you can barely walk.”

Villain felt the exasperation bubble up and leave his mouth as biting sarcasm.

“What an astute observation Ada, thank you. I can crawl alright, though.”

Any satisfaction he got from his comment, fizzled and faded when he saw Henchwoman’s shoulders hunch up. A dark regret and shame made him lower his gaze.

He scooted to the edge of the bed, but she grabbed his shoulders.

“Boss, I really think you should calm down before getting anything sharp.”

Villain stopped in his struggling, and looked at her incredulous.

“You think I’d hurt myself?”

she grimaced. “Not on purpose.”

“That’s even worse!” exclaimed Villain. He could feel the insult like a physical pain in his chest.

“I can’t believe- I taught you how to use a laser, and now you don’t trust me with a scissor?”

The woman pulled her hands back, and took a step backwards. “Please stop. It’s not a matter of trust, I just worry.”

“Well, don’t! I’ll get them myself, move out of my way.”

Villain kicked off his pants, and stood up. The nerves in his right leg were buzzing, he could feel how wobbly his muscles were. He leaned on the nightstand, and hopped over to the wall for support.

“Right, see.” he said, a little out of breath. “Walking. I got this-”

Just as he said that, he felt something shift, a sharp pain ran from his foot to his hip, and it gave out. With a curse, he fell. He heard his knees hit the floor before the pain registered. It throbbed, and he curled over with a groan. Someone ran toward him, bend down to hurt him- oh no wait, it was just Ada. Villain shuddered, a sheen of sweat on his forehead.

“C-crawling it is, then.”

“No, boss, stop it! Let’s get you back in bed, please, you’ll get hurt.”

Villain gritted his teeth. “Are you getting me something to cut my hair with?”

She gave up. “Yes, fine! If it will stop you from acting like this.”

“Like what?” asked Villain as he was helped upright. “Like I want to do something by myself?”

“No,” said Henchwoman, eyebrows drawn and voice quiet.

“Like you don’t care if you’re hurt.”

Villain didn’t know how to respond to that, so he stayed quiet.

She sat him back down on the bed, and mumbled something.

“What was that?” asked Villain. Only now he noticed the way the young woman had tensed up.

“Nothing,” she said, curls falling in her face.

“Hey,” Villain reached out to touch her arm, and his heart grew cold and heavy when she flinched lightly. It only a minute movement, but it made all sharp, biting annoyance leave him.

“Hey...” he repeated, gentler. “Kiddo, I didn’t mean to... You were just trying to help.”

“Yeah, I know.” Henchwoman didn’t look in his eyes and fiddled with her sleeve. She wore those turtlenecks and high-necked hoodies all the time, and Villian wondered why they felt the need to cover up so.

Villain took a deep breath, and counted to ten.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and the words felt like they barely scratched the surface of what he meant to say. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you. Next time, you can leave me on the floor if I do that.”

Her lips twitched in a smile.

“Yeah, right.”

“No, but in all seriousness. That wasn’t okay, and I’m sorry.”

Hench nodded.

“I get it. I know you didn’t mean to. But thank you.”

As she moved into a hug, Villain wondered if his apology was truly enough. Was there anything she wouldn’t forgive him for? He squeezed the woman tighter, and promised himself he’d watch his tongue more. Speaking his mind was one of the very few freedoms left to him. But he’d gladly give it up to avoid hurting Ada.

A moment later, he held the scissors, heavy and cold in his hands. Without hesitation, he started chopping. He hacked through a fistful of his hair in the back, then abandoned it when that took too long, and focused on snipping the waves hanging in his face. He didn’t care about the looks of it, he could fix that later. Right now, he just wanted it to stop the heavy, scratchy weight touching him.

“Do you want me to do the back, boss?” Hench offered.

“Why do you still call me “boss”?”, asked Villain, as he snipped another handful. Hench looked confused.

“Because that’s what you are.”

“No, I’m not. I can’t pay you, I literally have no money.”

“You think that’s why I call you boss?”

“Why, did the meaning of the word change while I was gone?”

She frowned.

“No, I guess not. But I don’t want to call you Villain, because then it sounds like I disagree with you.”

“Not much of a villain now though, am I.” asked Villain, though it sounded more like a statement. He snipped off another chunk. The sound was satisfying. He opened and closed the scissors a few times without cutting anything, and hummed approvingly at the metallic sound. He got distracted so easily these days, and every sensation was novel. The oddest things scratched the itch in his neglected senses.

“I like calling you ‘boss’,” Ada said, crossing her arms. “You’re the smartest person I know.”

“Was,” corrected Villain.

“Are,” she insisted. “You were, and you will be again. It’ll all work out.”

Villain was silent for a while.

Maybe, eventually, he would grow into his old title, like filling out a too-big shirt. But secretly, he knew he’d never return to form. But if Hench wanted to play pretend, he should let her. The kid deserved some comfort.

-----------------------------------------------

When Vigilante came home, he looked at his two new houseguests. Hench was busy trying to tidy up Villian’s choppy short cut, tongue peeking out the corner of his mouth as he snipped away at the hairs in the back.

Vigilante’s eyes glided over the dark hairs covering Villain’s shirt, the bed, the carpeted floor. He sighed.

“Would it have killed you,” he asked, voice rough from exhaustion, “to do that above the sink?”

“Oh.” the two geniuses responded in tandem.

#behind the masks

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whumpdedoodledoo · 3 days ago

Text

Villain recovery arc: I'm here

MASTERLIST

tagging: @pumpkin-spice-whump @octopus-reactivated @fanastyfinder @whumpy-arts-and-crafts @arsonfrogger @burtlederp @harri-00 @akito-fuckn-fear @potatoo-angst

CWs: mental whump, implied brain damage, cognitive trouble, clumsy caretaking, aftermath of starvation, emeto mention, child abuse mention, arguments

Villain woke from his nap. His head pounded and every muscle was sore, yet he smiled when he saw Hench sitting next to his bed.

In bits and pieces, the memory of the reunion came back. It wasn’t a dream, though it still felt fake. He hadn’t woken up back in his cell as he had feared.

“You’re really alive,” he muttered, still foggy with sleep. “But… I don’t understand, how?”

Henchwoman looked at him oddly. Fondly, with a smile, but there was something tight around their eyes.

“I got out just before the lab went up, Boss,” she explained. “I’ve told you that three times already.”

Villain tried to remember when that must have been. He remembered waking up to the IV, and hugging William. Had that been the same event, or was he cobbling together different moments? His headache got worse, and he struggled not to give up and simply stop thinking.

“How.. How long have I been out? Of Hero’s cell, I mean?”

“Same as last time I told you, about a day.”

Her voice had a slight edge to it. Was it annoyance Villain heard? Or just pity? He pressed the palms of his hands against his eyes. He could feel the tremors in them, the way fever was making his skin electric. He sighed, but then stopped and frowned.

He was upset about something. But he couldn’t remember what. He looked over at Hench, in the hope seeing her would help him remember. The young woman looked at him expectantly.

“Do you?” she asked.

Villain blinked in confusion.

“I’m… What? Did you ask me a question?”

“Yes!” Hench clearly said that a bit louder than she’d meant to, and cleared her throat to cover it up. “I mean, yes. I asked if you need anything?”

“My brain back, that would be nice.”

Hench didn’t seem to think it was funny.

Well, why not? It was funny! Like she could just pick up his brain at a grocery store. Hello, I’d like one coherent mind, please. That’ll be 3,99. Villain chuckled at the absurdity of that mental image, and then lost control over the reaction, like he was slipping on ice. It wasn’t even a good joke, but he couldn’t really stop, to the point he was having trouble catching his breath. Oh, if he died right now, wouldn’t that be a laugh? All that trouble to escape Hero, and he’d pass away cackling like a madman at his own dumb quip.

Once his fit calmed down, he groaned. Laughing had jostled his injuries, and though the painkillers made the pain nice and muted, he could feel his frail body straining under the excercise.

He turned his head away from Hench when he caught her eyes.

“Please don’t look at me like that,” he muttered.

“Like what?” she asked. Villain didn’t answer, because he couldn’t find the words. He just knew Henchwoman’s face made him want to hide under the blanket.

Thankfully, he was pulled from his thoughts when Vigilante entered.

“How are we doing here?” he asked. “Everything alright?”

“I dunno,” answered Henchwoman, speaking over Villain’s bed to Vigilante.

“He’s not thinking straight. How long do you think he’ll be like this?”

Villain’s brows lowered. Please don’t talk about me like I’m not here, he thought. I am. I can still hear you, even if I might not remember in five minutes.

“I don’t know,” answered Vigilante. “He’s still recovering. Give it time. He’ll come back to himself eventually.”

“I’m here,” said Villain, in a tone more bitter than he’d aimed for. Vigilante smiled and looked at him.

“Hey, good job on remembering! Yeah, you’re in my place, and-”

“No,” interrupted Villain, more insistent. “I’m here, I can hear you. I’m stupid, not deaf. And I’m already myself. I can’t become any more than I am. This is it. Okay? ”

The other two were silent for a moment. Villain wondered if they even understood what he’d been trying to say. Did he even understand his own words? The fever was making it so hard to focus. “Stupid,” he muttered to himself.

“Hey, you’re not stupid,” Vigilante tried to console. “Your brain is going to bounce back, don’t worry. Here, I brought you some food.”

Villain decided it wasn’t worth it to argue. He was too tired for it, anyway.

He reached out his thin, pale hands to take the ceramic bowl. It appeared to be filled with a chicken soup, about halfway. He cocked his head at the small amount.

“That’s all?” He picked up the spoon and let some of the nearly clear broth fall back into the bowl. Hunger made his stomach pang and he glanced at Vigilante sideways. “Hero didn’t starve me enough, then?”

Vigilante sat down next to his bed, on the opposite side Henchwoman sat at.

“No need for the attitude. I’d love to give you more, but we need to take it slow. Otherwise, you’ll be puking all over the bed.”

Ah yes, Villain supposed that made sense. When Sidekick had made him pancakes, that exact thing had- Sidekick.

He nearly dropped his spoon when he remembered.

“Where’s Sidekick?”

Vigilante wouldn’t meet his gaze.

“Look, Villain-”

“Where is he?” asked Villain, a little more frantic now. He needed the kid to be safe, he had to know he was alright. And he… Sidekick always made it better, right? Yes, how could he recover without his help? He had been his support so long, why wasn’t he here right now? Vigilante’s jaw tensed.

“Listen, Sidekick… He didn’t come with us.”

Villain couldn’t believe his ears. “You left him there?” he accused.

Vigilante held up his hands in defense.

“I tried, okay? But he didn’t want to come, and I-”

Villain squinted, disapproval clear on his face. “So you just left him.”

“Well.. Yes!” exclaimed Vigilante. “What did you want me to do, haul him over my shoulder and carry him out?”

Villain knew he was being sarcastic, but he felt the anger inside rise. “Yes! You did the same with me! Why would you save me, and leave the kid! What kind of priorities..?” he shook his head.

“I’d rather you left me there!”

At that, Henchwoman interfered. “Don’t say that, you deserved to get out!”

“Not as much as him,” rebuked Villain, before turning his anger back on Vigilante. “You don’t understand. Hero, he beats him. If he’s there and I’m not, he’ll be in deep trouble.”

Vigilante closed his eyes, as though bracing for a hit.

“I know,” he said softly, which only fueled Villain’s disbelief more.

“And you’re okay with that?!” he asked, voice getting near to cracking.

“Of course I’m not okay!” Vigilante’s skin had become flush, and when he finally looked at Villain, his eyes were dark. “Do you think that helps me sleep at night? No, I hate it just as much as you. I know what Hero is like,-”

“You don’t,” argued Villain.

“I do!” he insisted. “For longer than you, even.”

“Then how can you abandon Sidekick like that?” yelled Villain, face turning red.

Vigilante rose from his chair.

“Because I know what it’s like to be his friend!” he’d raised his voice and his fists were clenched.

“I know, okay? Don’t act like I’m on his side, I’m not! I can’t just kidnap someone who isn’t ready to leave, that’s not how that works! So shut up about it!”

The silence was deafening. The second the words left Vigilante’s mouth, he saw the effect they had: Henchwoman looked close to crying, and Villain had shut off. Although his brows were still furrowed in anger, he was simply staring into the middle distance.

Vigilante knew he was a big guy of solid muscle, and even taller than Hero. Usually, that made him feel like a protector. But right now it had only freaked everyone out. He rubbed his face.

“Crap, I’m sorry guys, I-I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s alright,” Henchwoman said softly, though Vigilante could tell how she was shaking a little. “Let’s not fight anymore, please.”

“Y-yeah,” Vigilante said, embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I’ll be more careful. Villain? Can you hear me?”

Villain startled.

“Hm, I hear you,” he mumbled, but didn’t turn to look at him. “Please don’t hurt him.” His voice was monotone. “I don’t want Sidekick to get hurt.”

Vigilante sighed. Villain wasn’t seeing him anymore. Henchwoman took the bowl, before Villain’s loose grip on it would cause it to spill.

“Don’t worry Boss, I’ll be here until you come back to yourself.”

Villain blinked, the only sign he’d even registered the words. His voice was higher and strained.

“Sidekick… Is he gonna be okay? I didn’t mean to get him hurt..”

Henchwoman swallowed, their lips pressing tighter for a moment.

“I know. But hey, I’m here now. We’re both okay, let’s focus on that.”

When she guided the man to lean back into his pillows, some clarity seemed to return to Villain’s face, and he smiled.

“Yeah, you’re alive… I missed you so much. How…” He frowned. “How did you survive?”

Hench closed her eyes a moment to collect herself before responding.

“I made it out just before it went up.”

“Oh.” Villain sounded surprised. “I’m sorry, you sound annoyed. Are you?”

“No, just…” Hench pulled up the blankets a little. “I’m just tired.”

“Me too,” said Villain. “You’re a good kid. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Though Henchwoman seemed happy with those words, Vigilante couldn’t help but wonder who Villain thought he was talking to.

#behind the masks

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whumpdedoodledoo · 3 days ago

Text

Villain's Rescue: the Reunion

MASTERLIST

[A/N: At last! I rewrote this like 3 times, but I think it was worth it.]

Tagging: @whumpsday @pumpkin-spice-whump-latte @octopus-reactivated @fanastyfinder @whumpy-arts-and-crafts @arsonfrogger @burtlederp @harri-00

CWs: drugging, panic attack, blood, hallucination mention, implied brain damage, (or mental problems at least)

“Villain, stop!”

Hero, tall, big-shouldered, angry, entered his vision, and Villain tried to scramble away.

“No, please, no more, you-you said, I wouldn’t have to go back unless I did something, please!” Though, the joke was on him for ever trusting his word.

Hero got on the bed (bed? Why was he in a bed?) and tried to pry his hand away.

“Villain, stop it! You'll hurt yourself!”

He was grabbing him, he was going to drag him back! Villain knew he shouldn’t, but he fought anyway.

“Please Hero, not the chair, don’t put me back, you said I didn’t have to, not again! Haven't you ruined enough? God, please!!”

“Villain, stop! I’m not Hero, you’re safe! Hey, look at me!”

“Please, Hero, just stop hurting me, I’m sorry-”

“Shh, it’s okay. Look at me. What colour is my hair? What colour, Villain?”

Of course, Hero was blonde, what kind of question... Oh, wait.

“What..?” he asked, suddenly feeling very tired and scared in a different way. “Who..? Wh-where am I? Where’s Hero?”

“I’m Vigilante, and you’re at my place. I got you out. Do you remember that?”

Sidekick was crying softly, he heard, and he looked over at him.

Oh, but that wasn’t Sidekick at all. He was hallucinating again, it seemed. He saw Henchwoman. He screwed his eyes shut to not have to look at her. Sometimes his mind twisted the illusions into something scary, something that made him cry in terror. But then his vision was black, blindfold-dark, and he opened them again fast. Better to have visions than nothing at all. He settled on turning his head away from the delusion, which made him notice the IV again. Vigilante was still gripping his hand tight to keep him from tugging it.

“V-Vigilante?” he asked, unsure and scared of the answer. “Wh-why am I on drugs?”

“You’re not on- They're just fluids, and something for your fever. It's just medicine, Villain.”

The hallucination spoke, voice heavy with tears.

“Boss? Boss, can you see me?”

“V-Vigilante.. Hero.. I don’t know who you are. I don’t know where I am, why am I on drugs again? Please, please get them out?”

Vigilante/Hero nodded. “Alright mate. I’ll remove it for you, I’m sorry they made you scared. No more IV, got it.”

“Thank you,” Villain breathed.

He thought he felt a thin hand lightly his hair, appropriately ghost-like and barely there, and he curled up to pull away from it. Please let him return to sanity before the whispered accusations start, before the haunting began for real.

The illusion sounded distraught.

"Boss, I'm sorry. Please, I tried to rescue you as fast as I could, I promise. I didn't mean to leave you for so long, please look at me?"

Villain shook his head. Not real, none of this was real. It couldn't be, and he clung to reality with all he could. He just wished his senses would quiet down soon.

Even though it wasn't real, the crying next to him made his heart ache.

“Vigilante, why won’t he look at me?”

“I don’t know Hench, " Vigilante responsed. "Who knows what he’s seeing right now. He will, give it time.”

Every time Villain thought he had reached the peak of his confusion, his brain was thrown for another loop. He turned his pale blue eyes to Vigilante. Or rather, what he thought was him.

“Wh-wait. You.. Can you see her? Henchwoman, can you see her too?”

The brown-skinned man looked up from where he was pressing something to his elbow wound.

“Yes, of course I see her. She's real, I promise.”

“Boss?”

Villain looked back at the apparition of the young woman. Her curls, while still wild, were limp and dull, and she was skinnier. If Vigilante had heard her, had responded to herquestions...

“Am I... Am I hallucinating you both?” asked Villain, weakly trying to grasp any kind of logic he could wring from his broken mind. Hench sniffed their tears away. Oh, he’d always hated seeing them cry, and instinctively, Villain wanted to comfort the illusion.

“No Boss, please, I’m real! I survived, Vigilante got you out. I’m here, I’m here, please!”

She wiped his eyes with her sleeve, just like she had since she was a teen.

For a long moment, Villain just stared at her.

“They... They told me you died. Is it really you?”

Hench nodded. She moved to hold his hand, but pulled it back at the last second. Perhaps she remembered how Villain had reacted, when he still thought she was a hallucination. And maybe she still was. Maybe Villain was dreaming. Either case, he decided not to waste the opportunity.

He reached up, and pulled the young woman close to him. He gripped herturtleneck as tight as he could, and cried into her shoulder.

“Ada, I’m so sorry,” he sobbed, “I am so sorry, please forgive me, I-I should have kept you safer, I’m sorry!”

After a brief moment of shock, Hench embraced him just as tight. She hiccuped through her sobs.

“Wh-what the hell are you apologizing for, Boss?”

Ada ran her hand over Villain’s matted hair, swaying lightly from side to side. Just like Villain used to do to her. Villain melted into the touch, and for a moment, he felt safe. He still wasn’t sure what was going on, the memories of being rescued were too vague to be reliable. But even if it was a dream, he was happy.

“I’m so happy you’re back, Hench. You know I love you, right? I-I never really said it, when you were alive, I should have.... I’m saying it now, I’m sorry, please don’t go.”

She hushed him.

“It’s okay. I’m not going anywhere, Boss. I love you, too, and I knew. I always knew. And I always will.”

Villain nodded, feeling the relief flood his system and pulling him down into fogginess again.

“Ada.. I’m scared, I don’t wanna sleep.”

“Nightmares? Don’t worry, I'll stay right here.”

“N-no,” Villain explained in a soft whisper. “I’m scared I’ll wake up in the cell.”

And yet, he felt exhaustion pull at him. He clung to the living ghost tighter, who rubbed his back.

“You don’t have to sleep. Just rest for a moment, with your eyes closed. No pressure, if you don’t sleep that’s alright.”

Villain felt a smile form on his face. It felt foreign, like his muscles weren’t used to it anymore. Vaguely, like poorly developed film, he remembered throwing a blanket over Hench’s shoulders, while she still sat at his work desk. Just rest your eyes, he’d say. No need to sleep, just do nothing for 10 minutes. The kid would be so exhausted, they’d usually wake up somewhere in the afternoon.

“You... You stole my line,” he joked.

Hench smiled too, through her tears. Her cheeks were flushed and red, and the lamp behind her turned her curls golden around the edges.

“Alright, you caught me. You’re going to be alright. Just rest, and heal, so you can be yourself again.”

As Villain, against his will, was pulled back into unconsciousness, his last lucid thought rang through his head. A worry, nagging at him through his fuzzy happiness.

He was himself already.

This was just all that was left.

#behind the masks

137 notes · View notes

whumpdedoodledoo · 3 days ago

Text

Villain's Rescue: the Reunion

MASTERLIST

[A/N: At last! I rewrote this like 3 times, but I think it was worth it.]

Tagging: @whumpsday @pumpkin-spice-whump-latte @octopus-reactivated @fanastyfinder @whumpy-arts-and-crafts @arsonfrogger @burtlederp @harri-00

CWs: drugging, panic attack, blood, hallucination mention, implied brain damage, (or mental problems at least)

“Villain, stop!”

Hero, tall, big-shouldered, angry, entered his vision, and Villain tried to scramble away.

“No, please, no more, you-you said, I wouldn’t have to go back unless I did something, please!” Though, the joke was on him for ever trusting his word.

Hero got on the bed (bed? Why was he in a bed?) and tried to pry his hand away.

“Villain, stop it! You'll hurt yourself!”

He was grabbing him, he was going to drag him back! Villain knew he shouldn’t, but he fought anyway.

“Please Hero, not the chair, don’t put me back, you said I didn’t have to, not again! Haven't you ruined enough? God, please!!”

“Villain, stop! I’m not Hero, you’re safe! Hey, look at me!”

“Please, Hero, just stop hurting me, I’m sorry-”

“Shh, it’s okay. Look at me. What colour is my hair? What colour, Villain?”

Of course, Hero was blonde, what kind of question... Oh, wait.

“What..?” he asked, suddenly feeling very tired and scared in a different way. “Who..? Wh-where am I? Where’s Hero?”

“I’m Vigilante, and you’re at my place. I got you out. Do you remember that?”

Sidekick was crying softly, he heard, and he looked over at him.

“V-Vigilante?” he asked, unsure and scared of the answer. “Wh-why am I on drugs?”

“You’re not on- They're just fluids, and something for your fever. It's just medicine, Villain.”

The hallucination spoke, voice heavy with tears.

“Boss? Boss, can you see me?”

“V-Vigilante.. Hero.. I don’t know who you are. I don’t know where I am, why am I on drugs again? Please, please get them out?”

Vigilante/Hero nodded. “Alright mate. I’ll remove it for you, I’m sorry they made you scared. No more IV, got it.”

“Thank you,” Villain breathed.

The illusion sounded distraught.

"Boss, I'm sorry. Please, I tried to rescue you as fast as I could, I promise. I didn't mean to leave you for so long, please look at me?"

Villain shook his head. Not real, none of this was real. It couldn't be, and he clung to reality with all he could. He just wished his senses would quiet down soon.

Even though it wasn't real, the crying next to him made his heart ache.

“Vigilante, why won’t he look at me?”

“I don’t know Hench, " Vigilante responsed. "Who knows what he’s seeing right now. He will, give it time.”

Every time Villain thought he had reached the peak of his confusion, his brain was thrown for another loop. He turned his pale blue eyes to Vigilante. Or rather, what he thought was him.

“Wh-wait. You.. Can you see her? Henchwoman, can you see her too?”

The brown-skinned man looked up from where he was pressing something to his elbow wound.

“Yes, of course I see her. She's real, I promise.”

“Boss?”

Villain looked back at the apparition of the young woman. Her curls, while still wild, were limp and dull, and she was skinnier. If Vigilante had heard her, had responded to herquestions...

“No Boss, please, I’m real! I survived, Vigilante got you out. I’m here, I’m here, please!”

She wiped his eyes with her sleeve, just like she had since she was a teen.

For a long moment, Villain just stared at her.

“They... They told me you died. Is it really you?”

He reached up, and pulled the young woman close to him. He gripped herturtleneck as tight as he could, and cried into her shoulder.

“Ada, I’m so sorry,” he sobbed, “I am so sorry, please forgive me, I-I should have kept you safer, I’m sorry!”

After a brief moment of shock, Hench embraced him just as tight. She hiccuped through her sobs.

“Wh-what the hell are you apologizing for, Boss?”

“I’m so happy you’re back, Hench. You know I love you, right? I-I never really said it, when you were alive, I should have.... I’m saying it now, I’m sorry, please don’t go.”

She hushed him.

“It’s okay. I’m not going anywhere, Boss. I love you, too, and I knew. I always knew. And I always will.”

Villain nodded, feeling the relief flood his system and pulling him down into fogginess again.

“Ada.. I’m scared, I don’t wanna sleep.”

“Nightmares? Don’t worry, I'll stay right here.”

“N-no,” Villain explained in a soft whisper. “I’m scared I’ll wake up in the cell.”

And yet, he felt exhaustion pull at him. He clung to the living ghost tighter, who rubbed his back.

“You don’t have to sleep. Just rest for a moment, with your eyes closed. No pressure, if you don’t sleep that’s alright.”

Villain felt a smile form on his face. It felt foreign, like his muscles weren’t used to it anymore. Vaguely, like poorly developed film, he remembered throwing a blanket over Hench’s shoulders, while she still sat at his work desk. Just rest your eyes, he’d say. No need to sleep, just do nothing for 10 minutes. The kid would be so exhausted, they’d usually wake up somewhere in the afternoon.

“You... You stole my line,” he joked.

Hench smiled too, through her tears. Her cheeks were flushed and red, and the lamp behind her turned her curls golden around the edges.

“Alright, you caught me. You’re going to be alright. Just rest, and heal, so you can be yourself again.”

As Villain, against his will, was pulled back into unconsciousness, his last lucid thought rang through his head. A worry, nagging at him through his fuzzy happiness.

He was himself already.

This was just all that was left.

#behind the masks

137 notes · View notes

whumpdedoodledoo · 3 days ago

Text

Interlude part 2: Hero Finds Out

MASTERLIST

CWs: child abuse (whumpee is 16), beating, guilt tripping, emotional whump, emotional abuse, verbal abuse, blood, injuries, gaslighting.

Tagging: @whumpsday @pumpkin-spice-whump-latte @octopus-reactivated @fanastyfinder @whumpy-arts-and-crafts @arsonfrogger @burtlederp @harri-00

Sidekick didn’t sleep all night. When the morning sun broke through his window, the anticipation was painful. Any second, now, Hero would go downstairs to find Villain missing. And then what? Would he be able to claim innocence? Would it even matter? He would be in deep trouble, no matter what he did. He watched the minutes tick by on his alarm clock.

5 am. He got hungry, but didn’t dare to move out of his bed. If he just stayed here, under the blankets, maybe he could delay the inevitable a little longer.

6 am. He tried to remember how kind Hero had been last night. It was just like before Villain arrived. It would be difficult for a moment, but he was sure Hero would calm down eventually.

7 am. He was probably going to have a terrible headache from the serum. Sidekick winced at the poor timing.

When he heard Hero scream his name at 8 am, he was flooded with relief and a nauseating fear. There it was.

He curled up tighter under the blankets, shuddering in fright, as he heard Hero storm up the stairs. The bedroom door hit the wall, and he flinched.

“Where the fuck is he?” Hero yelled, still wearing his pyjama and dressing gown. His curls were unstyled, which only made him look more explosive with anger. Sidekick sat up and pretended to wipe sleep from his eyes, like he’d just been startled awake.

“Wh-Hero? What do you mean, where is who?”

Hero’s dark blue eyes were alight with fury. His mouth was a tight line, and he stomped over to where Sidekick sat.

“Don’t you dare play dumb with me,” he hissed. “I can smell the guilt on you, and this is your last chance before I really get angry. Where is he?”

Sidekick held up his hands, and pressed his back against the bedroom wall.

“Please, Hero, I don’t know what you’re talking about! I haven’t done anything, I swear!”

He had to at least try to insist on his innocence. But just like he feared, that only made Hero angrier.

-------------------

Sidekick wept, and tried to catch his breath. It was hard to do so in-between sobs. Hero had a hard grip on his hair, pulling his head up from the floor. The blood dripped from his nose, which might be broken. He could feel a wet aching hole where his incisor used to be. He tried to get enough breath to speak.

“I don’t know! Hero, please stop, I don’t know where he is!”

Hero yanked him upright into a sitting position and knelt down in front of him. The sight of his own blood on his guardian’s face made Sidekick sick to his stomach, so he tried closing his eyes.

“Look at me. Straight in my eyes, Sidekick.”

After another sob, Sidekick obeyed. It was hard, looking back at Hero’s cold glare. Still, he tried. Hero spoke, his cold anger radiating off him.

“I checked his cell yesterday morning, and he was there. I leave you alone for one single day, and he’s disappeared. Do you think I’m stupid, Sidekick? Do you?”

Sidekick shook his head as much as the hold on his hair allowed.

“N-no, I don’t. Please, I went back to bed after you left, and then I trained all day. You can check the machines, I used them! I didn’t hear or see anything, I am so sorry!”

Hero’s grip tightened, and terror caught Sidekick’s throat so hard, his begging faltered. At least the tears were making Hero’s face blurry, so it was easier to look at him.

“Please, please,” he cried out, “I honestly don’t know where he is, I swear on my parents’ grave!”

That, at least, was technically true. He knew he was with Vigilante, but had no clue about his exact location. He was sure his parents wouldn’t mind that he bend the truth a little.

Hero took a deep breath, held it for a few seconds, and let go. When he released Sidekick, the boy curled up, even though that made it harder to catch his breath.

When Hero spoke, he didn’t sound as furious. He was snide and cold, but no loner explosive.

“Did I raise a liar, Sidekick?”

Sidekick shook his head, wincing when that jostled his nose.

“N-no, Hero. I’m telling the honest truth!” he insisted. Hero ignored him.

“I thought we were close, Sidekick.”

The sincerity in his voice caught Sidekick off-guard, and when he dared to peek between his arms, he saw Hero regard him pensively.

“I’ve really tried, you know. I’ve given you food, shelter, I spared no expense. I wanted to make you my successor, but now I’m wondering if you listened to anything I tried to teach.”

Sidekick wasn’t sure what hurt worse, the injuries on his face, or the dejected disappointment in Hero’s voice.

“I have, Hero, please. Please, don’t be upset. I... I only wanted to make you proud.”

“Hm.” The sceptism in that simple hum made Sidekick’s heart sink. His bawling had calmed down, but now his skin ached for someone to hold him. He put his arms around himself, trying to quell the cold pit in his stomach.

“So,” Hero asked, “You understand I’m doing my best to look out for you? I know being a hero is not an easy job, but I have to , even if I don’t enjoy it.”

Sidekick wiped some of the blood off his chin with his pyjama sleeve.

“Y-yes, Hero.”

“And you understand we’ll both be in deep trouble, if I don’t find Villain? If you don’t agree with my methods, we can talk about it. I’m sure I’ve made mistakes, I’m only human. But you’re nearly an adult, you can use your words, can’t you? Instead of hiding and going behind my back like a coward.”

He let go of Sidekick's hair, and instead moved to cup his bruised cheek. His knuckles were stained red, and Sidekick shuddered under the touch. Yet, the warm weight was also desperately needed. It eased some of the nauseau in his stomach. He reeled as Hero continued.

“I need to find him, Sidekick, for both our sakes. Do you want me to get in trouble with the Mayor?”

Sidekick shook his head. He could feel guilty tears push against his eyes.

“No, Hero.” he choked out.

“Alright, glad we’re on the same page.” Hero moved closer, and Sidekick flinched. But instead of hitting or pulling him, Hero used his own robe sleeve to wipe his cheek. He let him, though he trembled. Hero’s voice was soft, but there was still an edge of warning to it.

“I’m sorry for being hard on you. But I know you’re not telling me the truth, and that made me angry. You know how I don’t like lying. I get it, though; you don’t want to get in trouble, right?”

Sidekick shook his head. “N-no, please, I haven’t done anything-”

“Shh, I’m talking now.” Sidekick shut up immediately, his lies dying in his throat.

“I’m not accusing you of breaking him out yourself. But Sidekick, look at me.”

With effort, Sidekick made eyecontact. He felt like Hero could see straight into his brain and pull the truth out himself. He tried to keep his squirming inside, wishing he could just disappear. Hero spoke softly, making him strain to listen.

“I know you’re hiding something. Tell me now, and I promise you won’t be in any trouble. In fact, I’d be so proud if you had the guts to tell me. Please, Sidekick. You said you wanted to make me proud, right?”

Sidekick’s face stayed still as he cried, safe from a trembling in his lip and eyebrows. The hot tears fell down his cheeks, and he nodded. Hero smiled gently at the sight.

“So, what did you see?”

“Nothing,” Sidekick whispered, and Hero’s smile dropped. Still, Sidekick stood his ground, though his voice wavered.

“I heard nothing. I’m telling you the truth, Hero, I swear.”

For agonizing seconds, Hero stayed quiet. His mouth was set.

“So you’re sticking with your lies.”

“I’m not-”

“You are.” Hero snapped, and Sidekick felt sick to his stomach. Hero tsked, and stood up.

“I thought I deserved better than to be lied to, but I guess I’ve learned whose side you’re on.”

Sidekick wiped his face with the heel of his palm.

“Yours..” he said, voice strained and barely audible. “Please Hero, I just want you to like me again. ”

Hero only shook his head, and left the room. Before he closed the door, he glared at him over his shoulder.

“Your real parents would be so disappointed in you. I know I am.” Every word was like a punch in Sidekick’s stomach. Then, the boy was left alone to stew in his guilt and anxiety.

#behind the masks

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whumpdedoodledoo · 3 days ago

Text

Villain's Rescue Interlude: Sidekick's nightmare

[A/N: I know you're all waiting for the reunion, and trust me I am too! I've been busy, though, and I had this Hero chapter already mostly written.

This is directly inspired by @whumpy-arts-and-crafts 's lovely fanart.]

Tagging: @whumpsday @pumpkin-spice-whump-latte @octopus-reactivated @fanastyfinder @whumpy-arts-and-crafts @arsonfrogger @burtlederp @harri-00

MASTERLIST

CWs: implied child abuse, parental death, manipulation

Hero sighed as he finally came home. Christ, those attacks had been a hassle to deal with. And afterwards he wasn’t even able to go home straight away, of course. No, first he’d had those damn press conferences to assure the public that Villain couldn’t possibly be on the loose again. It was just a copycat, nothing more.

He kicked off his boots and, with heavy legs, dragged himself up the stairs. He’ll go check on Villain tomorrow morning, maybe release some of his frustration on him. Right now, he just wanted to go to bed. The serum that had given him super strength was quickly leaving his system, and taking all his energy with it. He’d need to get horizontal soon if he didn’t want to collapse in the hallway.

As he stumbled past Sidekick’s room, holding the wall to keep upright, he heard something that made him pauze. He didn’t even register what it was he’d heard, his feet just stopped in their tracks. But then he heard it again. Was Sidekick crying? It was the middle of the night, what was he still doing up?

Hero opened the bedroom door. Blinking though his swimming vision, Hero saw the kid curled up on his bed, his bandaged arm pressed tight to him. His red hair covered part of his tight-knit brows. Though his eyes were closed in sleep, he was whimpering and flinching mutedly.

With every second, Hero felt himself inching closer to a crash. Yet, he still shuffled inside and sat down on the bed. He brushed some of Sidekick’s short hair from his forehead.

“Hey, kiddo,” he murmured. “It’s all a dream, it’s alright.”

At the touch, he merely flinched and didn’t wake up. Something in Hero’s heart twinged at the sight. The kid started muttering something. He couldn’t make out the words, but through the sleepy monotone, he could tell it was an apology of sorts. He took Sidekick’s shoulder and shook gently.

“Sidekick. Wake up, bud.”

With a gasp and a start, Sidekick shot upright. He blinked, and gazed at Hero with wide glassy eyes.

“Hero! No, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, don’t-!” he stammered, clearly still with one foot in the dream.

Hero sighed, and scooted a bit closer. He put his arm around his charge, pulling him closer.

“C’mere. It was just a nightmare, you’re okay.” His own speech was growing a bit slurred from his exhaustion.

Though Sidekick struggled a bit with sleep-heavy limbs, he was soon leaning against Hero’s chest. For a second, he stayed frozen, before Hero’s comforting rubs on his back made him relax a touch.

Hero smiled. It had been a while since he helped Sidekick through a nightmare like this. When he’d been just a scrawny 12 year old, he’d often woken him up with screaming in the middle of the night. The dreams were about fire, about his parents, about Villain. Hero never punished him for waking him up. No, instead, he’d hold the preteen in his arms until he fell back asleep. It wasn’t any trouble for him, and the kid was always so sweet afterwards. And now, even though he was nearly grown and Hero was so very tired, he’d do the same. Maybe the tiredness was making him nostalgic.

He could tell Sidekick was still tense against him. His heart beat so fast and hard, Hero could feel it through his back. He moved his hand up to ruffle his hair.

“It was just a bad dream, kid. D’you wanna talk about it?”

Some of his lower city accent was slipping out. When was the last time he’d even used the serum? For all the training he’d put Sidekick through, he himself had been slacking.

Sidekick’s stammered words still spilled out.

“No, I-I was falling, and he was there, and you were too, and I was going to hit the ground and die. I was going to fall, and I tried to tell you sorry, but-” he stopped himself, shuddering a bit at the memory. Hero sushed him.

“It’s okay, bud. You’re fine.”

The kid turned quiet, and they just sat in the dark room a while. Hero had to confess, this was nice. He should hug him more often.

“I’ve been hard on you lately, haven’t I?” he mused.

He felt Sidekick hold his breath, and he sushed him again.

“You don’t have to answer, it’s alright. I guess we both could have done things differently, huh? It’s been a tough year. But we’re still buddies, ain’t we?”

Sidekick nodded against his chest. He smiled, fondly. God, the exhaustion really was making him sappy. His eyes were fluttering closed, when Sidekick’s soft voice pulled him awake again.

“Did.. Did you check on Villain yet?”

Hero hummed and shook his head. “Nah, ‘ll do it in the morning. D’ya-” He had to interrupt his sentence with a yawn. “Christ, I need to get used to the serum again... bet I’ll have a headache tomorrow. Anyway, you want warm milk or something?”

Why wasn’t Sidekick relaxing? He was still so tense, even though the nightmare must have faded by now. Had he really been so hard on him, that he couldn’t be at ease again? Well, Hero supposed he could be kinder and gentler. If only the kid wouldn’t make him lose his temper again, that should be doable.

“No, I think we should both sleep, Hero,” his ward said quietly. He chuckled.

“A’ight, that’s fair. I can hear my bed calling me down the hallway.”

He broke the embrace and helped Sidekick get settled back in bed. The kid seemed nervous, still. He wouldn’t look him in the eyes.

Did Hero mess up? He wanted the kid to like him. It would be a shame if he spend all this time and effort in raising him, only to break his trust in an attempt to control him better. It was Villain’s fault for wurming his way into his head.

He tucked Sidekick in and, in a bout of tired nostalgic fondness, pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“Y’re a good kid, Sidekick,” he said softly. Did he see that correctly, and did the kid's turn eyes wetter than usual?

“Y-yeah,” his voice tremored a bit. “I’ll see you.. tomorrow, Hero. In the morning.” There was a shiver running through his body, and the tears in his eyes became bigger.

“Please, remember that I do love- I-I like when you’re nice to me.”

Hero smiled. Not his practiced toothpaste-commerical grin, nor his meanspirited smirk. Instead, it was a bit crooked and made him look softer, somehow.

“I’ll keep it in mind, sonny. Sleep well.”

#behind the masks

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whumpdedoodledoo · 3 days ago

Text

Villain rescue, pt. 2

Masterlist

[A/N: Thank you everyone who voted! This is not the reunion yet, but next Villain chapter will have that, don't worry.] CWs at the bottom

Vigilante helped Villain stand up and get out of the cell. Although the thin man moved his feet in an approximation of walking, he had to be basically carried, with Vigilante’s arm around his waist. Together, they shuffled to the stairs leading out of the basement. Vigilante decided that the risk of falling was too big with Villain’s stumbling, and they were going too slow.

“I'm gonna carry you now. Okay?”

The dark-haired man frowned a little and tensed up, but didn’t say anything. There was a moment of silence in the bare hallway.

“Is that okay?” repeated Vigilante. Villain blinked, as though he’d been startled from a daydream.

“Uh, what? I’m sorry, is what okay?”

“Carrying you.” There was a pang of annoyance at repeating himself, but this was immediately crushed by an overwhelming sense of guilt. Villain had his brain scrambled like eggs, Vigilante should be able to deal with speaking clearly.

“Is it okay if I carry you?” He carefully pronounced each word, a little louder than usual. That appeared to be the word move though, because Villain flinched and dropped his gaze to the floor.

“Ah, sorry. I’m not... I didn’t realize ‘t was a question. You can carry me, I won’t struggle.”

“That’s not..” Vigilante sighed. How come he felt like he was already screwing up at this, not even a minute after getting Villain out?

Although the frustrated sound was made at his own fumbling, he could feel Villain curl up even tighter. Looking over, he saw that his eyes were staring somewhere far away.

“Shit, no, I didn’t mean... Okay, nevermind. Sorry Villain, you’re doing fine.”

He decided to just get it over with. With shocking ease, he got Villain in a bridal carry. He actually overshot the amount of force he needed, and almost lost his balance.

A grown man shouldn’t weigh this little. It felt closer to the weight of a kid. Vigilante blinked some teariness away. He had no right to be sad about this, and now was not the time anyway.

He could feel Villain’s one free hand, that wasn't still clutching the piece of fabric he had in the cell, gripping his shirt. He wasn’t making eye contact, staring straight ahead and whispering something barely audible.

“Please, don’t drop me..”

Vigilante felt sick. He had to bite his lip to deal with it. Villain was the smarmiest asshole he knew, and to see him reduced to this... This never should have happened. With some effort, he managed to swallow past the lump in his throat.

“Of course I won’t drop you. You’re safe now, Villain.”

There was no response from him as they moved up the stairs, and through the living room. They didn’t see Sidekick again, who must have gone to his room. Vigilante had the urge to call up to him, to remind him of his offer. But that would only make him dig his heels in. He had his number, if he wanted to leave, he could. Vigilante could only hope he’d see the light soon.

Vigilante opened the door, and Villain took a deep breath. When was the last time he’d been outside? It might have been during his arrest.

They really should get going as fast as possible. But Vigilante couldn’t help but give Villain a moment, as he looked up at the blue, cloudless sky with wide eyes. In the sunlight, his horrid, pallid skin became even paler. He seemed feverish, and his shiny eyes were entirely rimmed with tired purple and irritated red. Still, his thin lips formed a shaky smile. He stared at the neatly trimmed trees lining the road, whose bright green leaves almost looked like stained glass in the sunlight.

“It’s spring..” he said, as though that fact was an amazing miracle. “Was... Was I in there all winter? Oh no. I missed Christmas.” He let out a slightly pained laugh, that stopped as quickly as it started. He closed his eyes, and basked in the sun.

“No, Villain..” Vigilante felt sick even saying it out loud, but he deserved to know.

“You missed two. You were in there for over a year.”

Villain’s smile dropped a fraction.

“Oh..”, he said. Vigilante couldn't agree more. What else was there to say but a saddened, but not surprised, “oh”?

Vigilante made his way to the getaway car, a beat-up old thing that he had borrowed from a gym buddy. Usually, he did fine with public transport. But even though the city got wild, carrying a fugitive through the subway was a bit too much to ask.

He put Villain to his feet. Or, at least, he tried. Villain never put any weight on his right leg, Vigilante noticed. The manacle had rubbed a thick band of red irritation on his ankle, which had a silvery sheen of developing scar tissue. But besides that, his foot seemed oddly slack. It didn’t seem to cause him any pain, though, so Vigilante decided to examine that problem closer another time. For now, they just had to get out there. While supporting Villain, who was wobbling on his one leg, he opened the car door.

“Alright, in you go.”

He gently helped Villain sit down. What Vigilante didn’t notice in his hurry to get out of there, was the way Villain tensed up when he sat down on the soft cushioned chair. The feeling of the leather against his back made him breathe faster, and his eyes went wide and glassy. Vigilante grabbed the seatbelt, and moved to buckle him in.

“Alright, let’s strap you in-”

But as he pulled the belt across Villain’s chest, the man broke from his frozen panicked state, and was hurled into a full-blown frenzy. With weak hands, he tried to push Vigilante away. He leaned as far back as the car would allow, his back pressing against the tunnel console.

“No, no, no, god, please, no!” Villain cried, starting off hushed and desperate, but rising his tone with every word.

Instantly, Vigilante let the strap go and took a step back. Villain flailed and whimpered, before seemingly realizing he wasn’t held in anymore, and he threw himself off the chair like it burned him. He had always been lanky and fairy tall, yet he managed to fit under the dashboard with surprising ease. He sat, curled up on the dirty carpet, and was still whimpering.

“No, god, please, Hero, anything but- please!”

Vigilante knelt down next to the open car door.

“Villain. Can you look at me? I’m not Hero. You’re not in trouble.”

He didn’t seem to hear him, and wouldn’t unfurl enough to look in his direction.

“Please, don’t put me back,” he begged weakly.

Oh, this was going to be rough. Vigilante counted to ten in his head, to make sure his response was as calm as he could make it.

“Okay, help me out here. What’s freaking you out?’ He gestured at the car seat. “Is it the chair?”

From Villain’s cry of terror, that was exactly it.

“Please! Please, no-!”

“Alright!” said Vigilante, perhaps a bit too quickly. He couldn’t have Villain screaming and alerting the whole neighborhood.

“Okay, no problem. No chair, you can stay right there, I won’t put you in.”

It seemed like the words were reaching him, because he let out a shuddering sigh of relief.

“Thank you Hero, I’m sorry.”

“I’m not Hero, Villain.” Vigilante tried to remind him, but there was no further response.

VIgilante took a breath to sigh, but then remembered the way Villain had reacted to that before. He kept his breath until he had closed the door and was sure he couldn’t hear him. Then, he sighed, and added a groan for good measure. How was he so bad at this? Not to mention that being confused for Hero was hitting a lot harder than it ought to. He understood why, of course. He couldn’t blame Villain for being confused. But he still felt defensive at the suggestion.

He rubbed his face, and moved to his side of the car.

“You good in there?” He asked the huddled figure in the footwell.

“Yes, I’m good,” came the murmured reply. It was only as Vigilante backed out, that he realized he probably thought he’d meant “well-behaved”, instead of “comfortable”... Well, too late to explain now.

Hero lived in a totally different, more affluent, part of the city than Vigilante, so they had to drive for a bit. After a while, Vigilante checked in.

“How are you doing, Villain?”

He could only see his bony legs and skeletal hands wrapped around them. But he could hear, from his voice, that he wasn’t frantic anymore. He sounded a bit more like himself, albeit dazed and downtrodden.

“I feel foolish,” confessed Villain. “It’s not the chair. And you’re not Hero. I’m sorry for freaking out.”

“Hey, it’s alright. I’m just glad you’re back.”

Villain sat, cramped in the dark space below the glove compartment. Although he was slowly coming back to the present, the leftover adrenaline left him jittery. He was probably going to pass out soon from exerting himself, he knew it. And then he’d wake up... where, exactly?

Prison, most likely. Although Vigilante technically wasn’t in the city’s employ, and used his own moral code, he was still a crimefighter. A damn good one, at that.

Or maybe it wouldn’t be prison. Maybe Vigilante was inspired by Hero’s “work” on him, and wanted to try for himself. They had worked together in the past, after all.

“Vigilante,” Villain asked, and a stubborn part of him hated how meek he sounded now, “where are you taking me?”

Vigilante sounded a bit surprised at the question.

“Oh, my place, of course. It’s only my apartment, but I got some supplies for you. Don’t worry, we’ll make sure you’re taken care of.”

Villain felt a chill move through his heart. So he was going to keep him for himself. And this time, not in some fancy cell, no, just in his own home. The “supplies” must be either to hurt him, or to keep him there. Well, Villain wouldn’t leave anyway. If he did, he’d just be recaptured, or worse, found by Hero. He had nowhere to go.

He was pulled from his desolate thoughts when Vigilante continued.

“You know, I probably should warn you: Henchwoman will be there as well.”

Villain’s breath hitched, and he felt tears come to his eyes. He pressed her mask to his heart.

“I... Can I see her?”

“Yes, of course you can.”

“How much of her?” blurted Villain, and he clutched Hench’s burned mask until his fingers hurt. “How much do you have? Like, belongings, or.. Or ash? Or.. Is there enough to bury?”

Villain felt the car serve a little, and winced. Vigilante’s voice was loud, and a higher pitch than usual.

“Jesus Christ, no! No, she’s not- You thought I had her body? Jesus, Villain, no!”

“Sorry,” murmured Villain, and braced himself for what would happen when they stopped.

“Sorry, sorry, I didn’t think, I’m sorry.”

He wasn’t even sure what he had done wrong, but it was clear from Vigilante’s horrified tone that he must have. The car drove in a straight line again as the two men tried to collect themselves.

“Listen,” said Vigilante, a bit calmer, “Henchwoman is alive. She is okay and well, besides a little sleep-deprived. I’m not.. I’m not Hero, okay? I’m not gonna torture you or whatever, I’m just rescuing you. That’s it.”

Vigilante wasn’t as good at manipulation as Hero was. He always made sure his taunts were half-truths, and he never said outright untrue things. If Vigilante wanted to dangle false hope in Villain’s face, he wasn’t falling for it.

“Why would you?” he asked dully. “You hate me.”

“I don’t..” Vigilante objected, but wasn’t able to finish the sentence. “.. Hate is a strong word,” he said instead. “I disagreed on your methods, just like I disagree with Hero. But you don’t deserve this, no one does.”

Villain was quiet for a moment.

“What do I deserve, then?”

“...I don’t know,” confessed Vigilante. “But you should at least get to see your friend again.”

Villain smiled, and rubbed the charred mask with his thumb. The last of the adrenaline left his body, and his eyes fluttered closed.

“Yeah.. I’d like that.” And as he felt exhaustion and the rumbling of the car overwhelm him, he slept soundly. Because he got to see the sun once more. And when he went to meet Henchwoman again, at least it wouldn’t be by Hero’s hand.

Taglist: @pumpkin-spice-whump @octopus-reactivated @fanastyfinder @whumpy-arts-and-crafts @arsonfrogger@burtlederp @harri-00

CWs: implied starvation, clumsy caretaking, panic, begging, misunderstandings, thoughts about dying/death

#behind the masks

126 notes · View notes

whumpdedoodledoo · 3 days ago

Text

Behind The Masks: The Final Straw

MASTERLIST

Taglist: @pumpkin-spice-whump @octopus-reactivated @fanastyfinder @whumpy-arts-and-crafts @arsonfrogger CWs at the bottom of the fic.

Villain tried to wheeze past his his swollen nose and split lip. One eye was completely swollen shut and radiated pain throughout his face. The vision he did have, was swimming. He couldn’t quite get his one open eye to focus properly, after Hero’s savage beating made something crack.

He had been left for days. Of course, he didn’t have any way of telling the time, but the water bottle that had been thrown in his cell was slowly starting to get empty. He lay on his cot, trying to float away from his body.

Withdrawal had started kicking in. Nausea turned his empty stomach, his bones ached like he had the flu, and his body started screaming for the drugs to return. And yet, Hero did not come.

Villain was left feverish, hurt and terrified, but lucid. He had nothing but time on his hands to imagine what would happen to him. And to poor Sidekick. The guilt hurt worse than his fractured bones. He closed his one eye against the bright fluorescent lights above, and wept once more.

When his bruises turned from a purpleish black and blue to a mix of greens and yellows, Hero returned. Villain shot up on his cot, his chain rattling as he did. His ribs protested and shot a pang of pain throughout his torso, and he caught himself from falling back down with one unbroken arm.

Sidekick wasn’t there. That could be a good thing, or a very bad thing. Hero wasn’t holding anything that could cause Villain harm, which made him uneasy. He strolled in, keeping his distance. He knelt down about the same distance away as he had been when he had tempted Villain with the water, all those months ago. Villain squinted at him, trying to get his eyes to focus properly.

His face was calm, and stern. He didn’t say anything, he just stared down at Villain, prompting him to speak first.

“Hero, I am sorry, please don’t-”

“No, you’re not.” Hero interrupted. “I thought you cared about Sidekick, but I was wrong. If his well-being was not enough of a motivator for you, I doubt you regret it now.” He tisked.

“Aren’t the living more important than your pride over someone who's dead anyway?”

Villain felt the guilt stab his heart. His voice cracked as he pleaded.

“Please, what... What did you do? Is he okay? Please, Hero, I just want to know if he’s okay.”

He desperately wanted to know, but was equally terrified of the answer.

Hero smirked.

“That is for you to wonder, and for me to know. If you were really concerced over him, you would have kept your mouth shut.”

Villain lowered his eyes. He just hoped the kid was alright, but Hero wasn’t going to tell him. Scenario’s flew through his head, each worse than the next. And he had no way of knowing which was the truth. He was pulled from his racing thoughts when Hero spoke again.

“You know, the Mayor wasn’t entirely correct...” He was digging around in his back pocket.

“I did manage to save one thing from the lab.”

From behind him, he pulled a crumpled up piece of fabric. Allthough it was dirty and damaged, and Villain’s eyes still refused to focus, he recognized it immediately: it was Hench’s mask. The bright yellow and black was singed and covered in soot, but it was his.

He sat up, eyes locked on the small item.

“B-but how.. Is that real?”

Hero smiled. “Oh yes. I snatched it up right after they took you away, before they totalled everything. I wanted to keep it as a souvenir, of sorts. Before they threw out the rest of the trash.”

Villain could feel the blood rushing in his ears, tears springing to his eyes. All those memories, all those years together.. Gone. Destroyed in the smoke and casually discarded. This was everything that was left of her previous life, all he had to remember his beloved protégé. His already swimming vision becoame even more blurry as a sob racked his chest.

Hero pulled something else from his pocket. It was small, and Villain couldn’t see what it is. It had a bright neon color, and fit easily in Hero’s palm. He hiccuped to try and speak.

“Wait.. Wh-what’s that?”

Hero’s blurry silhouette cocked his head.

“You can’t tell?”

Villain could hear the amused smirk in his voice, and he shook his head.

“No, you hit me, and something cracked... There’s something wrong with-with my eyes, I see double, and the tears.. Please, what is it?”

Hero didn’t respond for a second.

“Hm. I didn’t know hitting someone could do that. Let me give you a hint, then.”

There was a click, a quiet woosh, and a blight orange shape started flickering from the object.

“No..” Villain felt an icy cold hand grip his heart, and squeeze. The orange shape moved to the mask, and grew bigger. The smell of burning hit his nose.

Villain’s face turned to horror.

“No, god, Hero, you can’t!”

Disregarding his injuries, Villain threw himself to the floor to crawl. He could hear it, the flames licking eagerly at the fabric and destroying the last remainder of Henchwoman. Desperate, with a ferocity he didn’t know he still had in him, Villain scrambled forward until his chain pulled taut. He could see the flame grow brighter and bigger.

His shrieking was almost mindless, arm stretched out to the bright orange shape until the strain hurt his ligaments.

“Hero, no, please! I am sorry, please, stop it!” It was as though he saw the last of Henchwoman burn before him. After this, she would have died a second time. Nothing left to even mourn for. His frantic begging continued as Hero threw the flaming garment on the floor. Villain could see the flames clearly now, could see the way it ate through the garment, but could nothing but scream in raw grief and reach for it until something popped in his sensation-less ankle. Even still, it was just out of reach.

Then, Hero raised his boot and stomped down. The sobs of Villain were painful, as Hero extinguised the flame.

The mask had been turned to ash to about the nosebridge, with only the left eye covering and headstrap remaining, albeit with Hero’s footprints over them.

Villain blubbered, barely being able to gasp for air inbetween cries.

“God, I’m so sorry.. Please, please, don’t destroy it, I-I'm so sorry,” He wailed, voice hoarse from screaming. Hero hummed.

“See, now I believe you. Are you ready to finally behave youself?”

“Yes!” cried Villain, without a second of doubt. His fingers kept straining for the burned scrap of fabric, wide-tearfilled eyes locked on them.

“I’ll do anything, I won’t ever talk back against the Mayor again, I’ll- I’’ll worship the ground he walks on, but please-!” He finally let his arm go slack, the fingers trembling on the ground, centimeters away from their goal.

“Please, don’t make me lose her again,” He choked In a hoarse whisper.

Hero knelt down next to him, and ran his fingers through his hair in a mock gesture of comfort.

“If you’d just behaved, this wouldn’t have happened. The mask would still be whole. Do you understand what will happen if you pull another stunt like that?”

“I do,” whimpered Villain. He didn’t pull away from the touch, even as shivers of revulsion coursed through his body.

Hero easily reached over and picked up the scrap. Not with any care, as though it was just a kitchen rag. Villain’s unfocused eyes followed the blur of of yellow and black.

“You know,” said Hero. “I’ve been looking up dog training videos and stuff. I think I’ve done too much negative reinforcement, don’t you? I kinda wish I could just start over, with Sidekick, too. But from now, if you behave, I won’t destroy this, and that will be your treat. Isn’t that nice?”

Villain nodded along, not really paying absorbing what Hero was saying. Shaking, he pushed himself up with his one arm that still worked.

“Please, Hero.. May I touch it?” He pleaded. “I understand now, I won’t ever, ever disobey again, I just- please, just let me touch her.” His voice was meek and shaky. If he could just brush his fingers across the fabric... Maybe, it wouldn’t feel like she got burned a second time. Maybe his heart would stop screaming out in guilt.

Hero considered it.

“You know what? Sure. You’ve learned your lesson, I think.”

He tossed what was left of the mask toward Villain, who struggled to catch it with his impaired vision and one good arm.

He held it as though it was a fragile baby bird. The fabric was scuffed, threads fraying and pulled loose from the weave. He could smell the singed and melted edges, where it was still warm from the flames. He closed his eyes and curled forward, clutching it close it his chest.

“Thank you, Hero,” he muttered, lip quivering from crying. Hero shrugged.

“You enjoy your binky, Mascot. I’ll even let you have it for the rest of the day. Afterwards, I’ll take it back. This is a privilege. Capishe?”

Villain nodded, rocking back and forward slightly with the cloth pressed to his chest.

“Yes, yes, Hero, I understand. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, please, don’t hurt it anymore.”

Hero scoffed.

“Jeez, if I knew you’d get so worked up over a tattered piece of junk, I would have done this ages ago.”

Villain didn’t respond nor look up, he just kept his protective position over the item. Hero watched for a while, shook his head, and left.

In the middle of the cell, as far as his ankle chain allowed him, the man sat cradling the last singed remainder of the one person he had ever cared for. His body was broken, as was his mind. But he didn’t think about the bruises and broken bones, didn’t dwell on the way he would sometimes stop rocking and stare out, his brain shutting off to protect itself from any more damage. All he did, for the entire time he was left alone, was carefully stroke the worn and damaged piece of cloth, and mutter rueful apologies to it.

CWs: broken bones, facial trauma, psychological whump, exploited grief, begging, withdrawal, guilt, heavy emotional whump

#behind the masks

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whumpdedoodledoo · 3 days ago

Note

Hero. Hero you bitch don't you lay a hand on Villain and Sidekick I will cut your fingertips and feed them to you.

(Okay lucky Anon, you don't get an in-character response to that, but here is a prelude from the next chapter I decided not to include.)

Tagging: @fanastyfinder @octopus-reactivated @whumpy-arts-and-crafts MASTERLIST CWs: beating mention, drugs mention, child abuse (whumpee is 16)

In the back of Sidekick’s closet, behind the racks with jackets and shirts, was a loose panel in the wall. Pulling it out the drywall revealed a corridor, just wide and high enough to sit or stand over hunched. It was the place where Sidekick hid everything he didn’t want Hero finding: his savings, extra snacks, and now, himself. He sat in the pitch black, musty space, as he heard Hero storm about house. At one point, the closet door even got opened, and Sidekick pressed his hands against his mouth to keep quiet. “Sidekick? Come out, please! You’re not in trouble!” Yeah, right. The meeting with the Mayor couldn’t have gone more poorly. Sidekick knew it was just an extension of execution, but he was not about to leave his hiding space. Hero continued searching his room, turning the place upside down. Then he heard him sigh and his bed creak as he sat down on it. “I’m honest,” called Hero. “I’ve been thinking about what the Mayor said. I shouldn’t punish you without proper reason. You did nothing wrong today, can you please come out?” Hero was a liar. Sidekick was smarter than to believe him. He had ran out of the room when Hero had started beating Villain. The sounds of the impacts and muffled cries still rang in his ears, and he shuddered. He knew that hiding would only make his punishment worse, but he just couldn’t bring himself to face the music. Hero shifted on the bed. “Can you hear me, kiddo? Just knock or something, so I know you’re here.” Sidekick kept silent. Not only did he not want to face whatever was planned for him, he could also not have Hero find his secret spot. Hero kept talking. “Look, I’m not upset anymore. I got everything out of my system. I’m not even angry you left, it must have been a bit upsetting to see me like that. But Villain has gotten his immedieate consequences, and I have to think about a new retraining method now. I wanted to punish you as punishment for him, but clearly, that threat isn’t working anymore. He’s not in the chair, by the way.” His voice got a darker note. “The Mayor was right, I rely on it too much. I want him to soak in the fear for what’s coming. I want him lucid.” His voice snapped back to sweet and concerned. “I have some ideas, I just need to work out the specifics. But whatever I decide to do, it won’t involve you. Okay?” The silence lay heavy in the air. “...You’re not even in here, are you. Gave all that speech for nothing, heh.” Sidekick breathed in the dust in the crawlspace and tried to make as little noise as possible. He then heard a strange sound, like Hero had a cold and was sniffing. His voice was barely audible and strained. “God, I fucked up, didn’t I. I broke Villain, but not even well enough. Too messed up for anything useful, but still not good enough... And now the kid won’t even talk to me. Maybe the Mayor was right. I did seed resentment. I fucked it all up.” Was he... was he crying? No, Sidekick must have misheared him. Or it was all a ploy to bait him from his hiding spot. Sure enough, as soon as the hiccups started, Hero stood up again. “Right,” he muttered, voice still wet with tears. “Let’s if we can’t find him. I’ll have to try better next time. I was too strict with the kid.” Sidekick could hear him calling for him as he moved out of the room, and tried to make sense of what he just heard. In the end, he failed to do so.

#behind the masks

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whumpdedoodledoo · 3 days ago

Text

Behind the Masks: The Mayor's Visit

MASTERLIST

Tagging: @fanastyfinder @octopus-reactivated @whumpy-arts-and-crafts

CWs: minor abuse (whumpee is 16), choking, heavy emotional whump, death mention, implied death threats, character is presumed dead, brief ableism, drugging, power plays, boot-licking adjescent, humiliation [A/N: I gave myself whumperflies with this chapter, it was great fun!]

-------------------------------

I’ll be coming for a visit around 14:00. Make sure Villain is sober.

Hero read the text message like it was his death sentence. All blood pulled away from his face, and he hurried out of bed.

It was 8:00. Only 6 hours to make sure everything was perfect. It didn’t feel like enough time, but he would have been equally stressed if he’d had a week to prepare, or 5 seconds.

He threw on a dressing gown and made it to Sidekick’s bedroom. He burst in and shook the kid awake.

“Get dressed, downstairs, now!”

Sidekick awoke with a flinch and squinted up at him. Still half-asleep, he hunched his shoulders and put his hands in front of him. Like Hero had the time to hurt him right now.

“Wha- huh? Hero, wha’s wrong?”

Hero was already bolting out the room and called over his shoulder.

“The Mayor is coming, that’s what’s wrong! I’ll be in the basement, be ready when I’m back!”

Villain was already awake. He didn’t tend to fall asleep, really; consciousness drifted through him like an eb and flow, and he didn’t have any sense of time. He had been crying when Hero stormed in, miserable sobs that made him pull against his bounds.

Sometimes, he would be plagued by hallucinations or memories, Hero couldn’t tell which. Whatever he saw under that blindfold, it would make him weep pathetically, and sometimes he’d mutter broken apologies. Hero loved to come down here when that happened, and just enjoy the show sitting a few feet away from the man, as he slowly lost the remainder of his mind. There were a couple videos on his laptop of particularly good meltdowns.

Today however, he didn’t have time for that. He ripped the IV out, not bothering with being gentle. Villain startled and tried to stop his crying in its tracks. He snivelled as Hero put his hand on his throat. He didn’t push hard enough to cut off his breath, just putting pressure and feeling his heartbeat rise to a frantic tempo.

Before Villain gathered enough wits to speak, Hero leaned in close and pulled the headphone away from one ear.

“You are going to behave yourself,” He hissed, close enough that Villain could surely feel his breath. He could feel him breathe raggedly at an uneven pace under his hand. He was trying to focus on his words, stop crying, and brace himself for a choking, all at the same time. The rush of power eased some of the nervous knot in Hero’s stomach. He was on top. He was in control, and all would go exactly as he wanted. He continued:

“Not a single breath will be out of turn, today,” He squeezed the side of Villain’s throat, to accentuate his point, and a terrified sob broke from Villain. His eyes weren’t visible behind his blindfold, but his mouth was pulled in a grimace of fear.

“If you’re not the very picture of obedience today, I will make you wish you weren’t born. Understood?”

Villain’s pulse was beating against his fingers hard enough to make the fingers move up and down.

“I, hng, I al-already do,” The reply was so soft that Hero might not have heard it if he hadn’t been so close. Hero sneered.

“That’s what I like to hear. But if it’s not enough of a motivator for you, do it for Sidekick’s sake. Clear?”

Villain swallowed, the threat hanging heavy in the air. “C-crystal. Sir.”

Hero patted his cheek faux-affectionaly, earning another delicious flinch.

“Attaboy. I’ll let you sober up a bit.” He let the headphone snap back into place, the impact in Villain’s ear making him wince.

When Hero went back upstairs, he felt a little calmer.

Sidekick’s mentor was snappy, making him clean the house from top to bottom. When Sidekick had dared to ask why the Mayor would be visiting the laundry room, it had earned him a harsh slap against the cheek as an answer. Well, he should have known that would piss him off, honestly.

He had never seen Hero so nervous. It was a bit of a pang when he remembered he hadn’t seen him so distraught when he’d been in danger during missions. Obviously it was important to keep a clear head in those situations, but he couldn’t help but notice the contrast.

He had only met the Mayor once, when he got taken into Hero’s care. He had been too happy to finally be out of the orphanage to really pay attention, then. It had just been a press conference, where the Mayor had given a little speech about the “newest addition in our fight against crime”.

Before soon, it was 14:00. Hero had been pacing about the kitchen for an hour, now. Mayor had said “around” two ‘o clock, so he had made sure they were ready if he was early. He was biting his nails and clearly doing breath excersizes, which made Sidekick anxious as well.

Hero snapped at him: “And remember to use two words. If you are rude to him-”

“I’ll regret it,” finished Sidekick. “Yes, I know, Hero.”

He had been threatened with all kinds of punishments already today. It seemed like barking at him made Hero feel a little better.

Then, the doorbell. Hero jumped up.

“Right, okay. It’s both our heads on the line, Sidekick, remember that.”

The Mayor was a small, shriveled man with a dark wooden cane. His pale face and bright white hair contrasted against his dark suit, and the only pop of colour were his ice blue eyes. There was a fire in them, an analytical gaze that spoke of the sharpest wits, and the backs it could stab.

Since the last time they’d spoken, Sidekick had outgrown him and was actually half a head taller. Yet, the man carried himself with such power, such poise, that his prescence commanded respect from even Hero.

Everyone in the city knew that the Mayor wasn’t a man to be messed with. In some circles, there was even talk of shadier dealings. Sidekick was told most of it was rumour, slander to undermine his authority. Yet, despite Hero’s welcoming smile, there was a beads of sweat on his forehead.

“Ah, mister Mayor, welcome! Please, come in.”

The Mayor didn’t return his smile, his expression staying the same unreadable neutrality.

“Good to see you, Hero. Did you get everything ready for my visit?”

“Yes, sir.” Hero said. This caused the slightest of quirks on the Mayor’s lips.

“Hm. I actually wanted to inspect how things were going, but if you covered anything up that could displease me... Maybe I should do a surprise visit, next time.”

Hero’s smile didn’t waver, but the slightest panic rose in his eyes. The Mayor ignored it, and turned to Sidekick, who straightened his posture under the attention.

“And our little Sidekick. You’ve grown quite a bit.”

“Thank you, sir.”

The Mayor cocked his head a little.

“That wasn’t a compliment. It’s not like you grew through your own efforts, did you? So why are you acting like you can take credit for it?”

Sidekick blinked. “I, uhm...” he shot brief glances at Hero, hoping that he wasn’t talking back right now. “I, uh. I work out? So-so, I can’t control my length, but.. I can control how much muscle I grow?”

The Mayor hummed. “Quick thinking. I like it.”

He stepped forward and, using the tip of his cane, he turned Sidekick’s head to the side a little. His cheek was still red and throbbing from the slap that morning.

“Hm. Has someone been misbehaving?” He asked.

Oh, he had no idea. Underneath Sidekick’s turleneck, the bruises from being strapped in the chair had bloomed brilliant purples and blues. Hero shook his head.

“Oh, no, he’s behaving himself. This was just a minor hiccup this morning.”

This time, the Mayor’s face was clearly displeased. He pulled his cane back to himself, and turned to Hero. His stern face actually made the muscled man towering over him flinch a little. The older man’s voice was calm and at a low volume.

“While I agreed to whatever methods you deemed necessary, you shouldn’t punish him without proper cause. It will only seed resentment, which will force him away from you. Understand?”

It wasn’t quite a renouncement of Hero’s “methods”, but it was more than Sidekick had expected. Hero nodded, like a scolded child.

“Yes, sir. I understand.”

The Mayor turned back to him.

“Well, young Sidekick, if you work hard and make sure to listen, you’ll be just like Hero someday.”

Sidekick couldn’t explain why that simple phrase made him bolt out the door and never return. He wouldn’t be exactly like Hero, right? He would take over the title, and he’d be better, kinder. But he kept his inner panic at the Mayor’s reassurace inside, and swallowed.

“I, uh. I can only hope, sir.”

“False.” Mayor said bluntly. “You can do your best, that’s what you can do. Hoping is for the foolish and powerless. You are the things you do, after all.”

Sidekick wondered if the Mayor ever took take a comment at face value, instead of digging into it for dubble meanings. He avoived his gaze.

“Right, yes. I’ll be my best. Sir.”

The Mayor hummed as they walked into the call. Sidekick was starting to dread the sound already.

“He’s in the chair again. I thought you were done with that phase?”

Hero explained: “He, uh, is currently being punished. And I thought it would make a nice demonstration.”

“I would like to remind you, Hero, that the whole point was to control him. If you can’t keep him in line unless you’re actively strapping him down, I fail to see the point of this little project.”

“No, no, of course! No, he’s meek as a lamb. He’s sober, like you asked, so this is his baseline now.”

“Hm. Very well. Let me see him.”

Villain wondered if the visit from Hero that morning had been a hallucination, or a dream. Yet, the IV was gone, and his head a lot clearer. Within a blink, he went from sitting quietly, from having his restraints and coverings all ripped off.

He was thrown out of the chair, and fell to the floor. He buried his head under his arms, partly to protect it from any blows, and to shield out the bright light. He heard Hero’s voice above him.

“There you have him. I assure you, sir, he wouldn’t harm a fly.”

Hero’s voice sounded unbearably slimy. If he was being a kiss-ass, that could only mean one thing...

Villain blinked away the bleariness in his eyes, and peered up at the pale man in the suit. The Mayor.

He had known the bastard was corrupt. He hadn’t had the oppurtunity to ever meet him before he got captured, his defenses were just too strong. Villain wasn’t an innocent man, but the criminal things the Mayor got up to... Well, let’s just say he wasn’t surprised he could get his hands on a ridiculous amount of drugs.

But Hero had been very clear. If Villain wasn’t perfect today, Hero would be in deeper trouble than normal people could imagine. And as fun as that would be, Hero had also been very clear of the consequences for Villain, and especially Sidekick.

Villain tried to prop himself up to a sitting position, but failed. His arms buckled, and he hurt his cheek when he failed to support his torso and fell down.

“He’s weak.” said the Mayor. It was impossible to tell if that pleased him or not.

“Yes sir,” boomed Hero’s voice above him.

“How often are you letting him excersize?”

“Uh... Not often.”

“Hm. Well, give him a hand, this is taking forever.”

A strong hand gripped Villain’s hair, and he cried out as he was pulled upright. The birght hot pain shooting through his scalp lingered, even after he was let go.

He wobbled, but managed to stay in the kneeling position he was put in. He looked up at the Mayor, the man who had ordered this treatment of him in the first place. He was shaking, and he didn’t know if it was out of fear or anger. He was scared that all his hate would spill out of him when he opened his mouth, so he stayed quiet.

The Mayor stepped forward, letting his piercing eyes wonder over him.

“Hero tells me you’ve turned a new leaf. Is this true?”

Villain thought of Sidekick. At this point, he didn’t care what happened to himself. But if the Mayor was displeased, it would be Hero suffering the consequences, who would in turn take it out on Sidekick.

“It’s true, I have. Couldn’t do anything if I tried.”

The Mayor cocked his head a fraction.

“Well, it shouldn’t matter if you could or not. Anyone can behave when they literally have no choice. But do you honestly want to be good?” He regarding the chair casually. “I hope you do, because it would mean less costs on your retraining. You must be pretty tired of the chair, no?”

Villain perked up a little. If he could convince him that his training was done, he might avoid getting put back.

“No, no, I don’t need it anymore, promise. I- I know my place. I can’t think anymore, I can barely walk, I couldn’t-”

“There you go again, talking about can’ts. If I wanted you unable to cause trouble, I would have just killed you. I wanted to see if you can be taught. Do you understand the difference? Or should I speak more slowly?”

Villain swallowed.

“I.. No, I understand. Tell me how to prove it, and I will.”

The Mayor thought for a moment.

“I believe Hero did a little demonstration during your appearance on TV. I wonder if you’ll do something similar without being drugged out of your mind. What do you think, Hero?”

“Yes, sir, he’d be happy to lick your shoes.”

The Mayor frowned. “Are you joking? These are genuine leather.”

He lifted the bottom of his cane toward the kneeling Villain. There was a ghost of a smile around his lips.

“Well then. If you’d be so good as to clean it.”

Villain stared at the rod that was held in front of his face. The bottom was covered with dust, and it loomed before him. He closed his eyes and wrinkles of disgust appeared next to his nose.

It’s true, he had polished Hero’s shoes to a shine. But he had barely been aware what he was doing. Now, he was fully lucid as he leaned forward and hesitantly stuck out his tongue.

There was a grittiness of dirt to the wood, and he almost dryheaved. Yet, he did what he was told. He lapped at the walking stick, and his face turned bright red with shame. The Mayor gave his cane a little jerk, causing it to clack up against his teeth painfully.

“C’mon, put in some effort.”

Villain didn’t want to look at him, because he was scared to see how much he enjoyed it. He looked down with a grimace, as he used his whole tongue. It tasted bitter, and the wood was soon covered with his spit.

As soon as he wondered how long he’d be forced to do this for, the Mayor pushed his cane forward sharply. It went into his mouth and hit the back of his throat, and he collapsed on the floor with a wheezing, hacking cough.

The Mayor put his cane back on the floor.

“You know, that strike on the lab was the best descision I’ve ever made. It took me a while to find it, but its destruction was worth it.”

Villain froze.

“It’s a shame your subordiate died in the fire. She might have come in useful.”

Villain clenched his fists so hard, his uncut nails made his palms bleed. An icecold fury grew in his stomach, so instense it physically hurt. Tears pooled in his fiery eyes. The Mayor noticed, and smiled for the first time in his visit. He bend at the waist and leaned in close to Villain, soaking in the way he fought to contain his anger.

“Did you know, there wasn’t even enough left to bury. We just threw it out with the rest of the debris.”

Villain’s anger unlocked like a generator with a broken valve. He threw his head forward with all the force he could muster. There was a satisfying crack as the Mayor’s face met his skull, and the man stumbled backward, holding onto his nose. But it wasn’t enough to satisfy Villain. He bared his teeth like an animal with a vengance. He wanted him dead, he wanted to rip him limb from limb with his teeth and tear out his heart.

Hero rushed forward to grab him, but he found a newfound strength, he managed to wrestle in his hold long enough to cry out.

“I hate you!” He screamed, his voice hoarse with emotion. “I hate you, and everything you stand for! I would let this entire shitstain of a city burn to the ground, if only to singe your clothes! I hope you die!”

He spat at his feet, before Hero’s hold choked him off. Immediately, his breath stopped with a rattle, and his eyes bulged. As his fingers scrabbled at Hero’s forearm, he could vaguely hear his apology.

“I am so sorry, Sir, he’s never acted like this, not even to me! If I had known-”

The Mayor lifted a hand to cut Hero off. When he let go of his nose, a trail of crimson ran down his face and chin. He straightened his posture and got a white hankerchief from his pocket, taking his time to wipe his face while Villain was slowly becoming lightheaded.

“I must say,” he said, sounding complely unaffected, “I didn’t think you’d need guidance in subjegating, Hero. Were my instructions not clear enough? Did I not provide you with enough resources?” As he tore his eyes away from his handkerchief and turned them to Hero, they were bright with fury.

“Was it something I did, to make you fail so miserably at your task?”

Villain would have been pleased by the way Hero flinched behind him, but he was preoccupied with slipping from consiousness. He used the few fading moments of strength in him to kick weakly at the Mayor, even though he knew he couldn’t reach him.

“I.. I don’t know what happened.” Hero stammered. “I swear, he’s never done this, not even before the chair, I-”

“You failed to make him a guard dog. You didn’t even make him a detterrent. Maybe, Sidekick will have a new position sooner than we thought.”

Hero stood up, just before the black spots in Villains vision completely took over. He gasped raggedly for air. Hero's voice was frantic.

“No, no sir, that won’t be necessary! I promise, I’ll find something that works, honest!”

“For your sake, I hope that’s true. I spend a lot of time, money and effort into this, Hero. The only reason that I don’t demote you right now, is because Sidekick isn’t ready to be a Hero yet. Do you understand?”

Hero shuddered.

“Y-yes, sir. I-I won’t let you down-”

“You already have. You can only hope you'll make it up to me.”

#behind the masks

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whumpdedoodledoo · 3 days ago

Text

Villain's Punishment (The Choice)

This is part of a series, masterlist here (X)

CWs: minor whump (Sidekick is 16), past child abuse (bruising) emotional manipulation (!!! seriously they get put through the ringer), brief ableism from Hero

Tagging: @fanastyfinder @octopus-reactivated @whumpy-arts-and-crafts

Sidekick trailed slightly behind Hero as they made their way upstairs. When they reached the stairs to his bedroom, Villain called out.

“Hero? I’m sorry, it was my idea. Where is he, is-is he with you? Because-” He briefly lost the courage to call out. He mumbled something else, but it wasn’t audible through the door.

Hero smiled at Sidekick, like the two of them were in on a joke. Like Villain’s worry was something silly, an overreaction.

“Easy, Mascot. Sidekick’s not hurt. He just got a talking to and now it's your turn. I’m opening the door, now.”

Villain sat in the back of the room. Not fully huddled in a corner, like he often was in his cell, but close to it. Immediately, his eyes shot over Sidekick, who trailed behind Hero. He didn’t step into the room, staying near the doorframe.

He hadn’t been hurt. Well, his arms did ache from where Hero had gripped him in their struggle. The faint, early marks of bruising lit up under his short pyjama sleeves. But that wasn’t what made him so quiet; only his miserable face betrayed his true punishment. His ashen cheeks were sticky with tears, his red eyes glued to the floor.

Whatever Villain saw, caused his eyes to squint and jaw to set. He turned to Hero.

“A “talking to”?” he asked.

“A stern talking to,” was Hero’s response.

“Now, obviously you won’t get off so easily. But I’ll be nice. You can choose: either go back in the chair for two weeks, or-”

“The other thing,” Villain blurted out. He immediately regretted interrupting, and shrank back in on himself. He stood by his point, though.

“Not the chair, please,” he whispered, “anything else.”

Hero hummed.

“Very well. Come Sidekick, let’s go back downstairs.”

He turned to leave, but Sidekick didn't follow.

“Where are we going? What’s going to happen to Villain?”

Hero smiled at him.

“Oh, nothing. He picked a week in the chair for you.”

Sidekick’s knees hit the ground before the words fully registered. His tired mind simply short circuited.

“But... But you promised.”

Hero’s voice was sickly sweet.

“I know. But I have to hit Mascot where it hurts, don’t I? For once, this isn’t about you.”

He felt cold and hot, all at once. He got the strange sense of being underwater, of floating. It was like when you jump in a pool on a hot, noisy day, and the shocking cold and quiet overwhelms your senses.

He barely even noticed when Villain moved from his spot by the wall and crawled over.

“Wait, wait, Hero, I changed my mind.”

He stopped by his side, not quite putting himself between the two, but nearly.

“Please, I-I pick option one. You can’t do this, not even you.”

Hero cocked his head, warning in his voice.

“Not “even” me? What is that supposed to mean?” he asked coldly.

Villain had been brave all day. But under Hero’s scrutinizing, cruel gaze, drops of sweat dripped down his neck. His heart beat so hard, his jugular visibly twitched. And yet. Despite the terror that Hero’s mere presence brought, the man put one arm in front of Sidekick.

“I-I’m already fried, broken, but he’s still young. You can’t, Hero, please, I'm begging you.”

Hero quirked his brow. “Are you?”

Villain took his cue without hesitation. Shaking all over, he pressed his forehead against the floor until it hurt.

“Please. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, but not him. Please.”

Hero scoffed. “Please and sorry, is that all you know how to say?”

There was a beat of silence.

“I can’t think of anything else.” confessed Villain, and from the broken tone in his voice one could tell it was genuine. Hero sighed.

“Well, looks like the poor halfwit here is too confused to make up his mind. So what do you think, Sidekick?”

Sidekick was slowly coming back to himself. He had half a mind to take a page out of Villain’s book and scramble away to hide in a corner. He couldn’t do this. He was too tired to even cry.

“I don’t want to,” he whined. “You said.. You promised!”

Hero tsked.

“We’ve gone over this. Don’t make me repeat myself. Should I put you in the chair?”

“No!” Sidekick cried out before he could think. “No, God, please-”

“So I should put Mascot, then?”

Sidekick didn’t respond. The noble thing would be to volunteer, right? But he couldn’t. The tactile memory of the belt over his neck cut off his words. In the end, he didn’t even shake his head.

Hero's voice was calm, like they were discussing flavours of ice cream.

“Is that your final answer? I’m going to count to three, and if you haven’t volunteered by then, I’ll put Mascot in. One..”

Villain still had his head pressed against the floor. Sidekick was glad for it. He didn’t want to see his face.

“Two...”

He could see him shuddering, though. His breathing sped up.

“Two and a half..”

Sidekick sobbed. “Please, just take him!”

“As you wish.” In one swift movement, Hero descended on Villain and dragged him out by the arm.

In movies, a character would smile bravely back. Maybe whisper one last word of encouragement or comfort. But Villain, despite his stupid bravery, was just a man. He went kicking and screaming.

Sidekick didn’t deserve to feel good about this, anyway. He heard the man get dragged down the flights of stairs, until the slam of the cell door blocked out all sound. He threw his arms around himself and wept.

He was still crying when Hero came back. He didn’t look up, but tried to bite his sobs down. It didn’t work.

Hero sighed and walked over, kneeling down next to him. He felt Hero’s hand rub gently over his back, and wished it didn’t comfort him.

“I thought giving you a choice would make you feel better. It’s what all the parent magazines say to do.” All anger and mockery had left Hero’s voice. In that moment, he sounded genuine, nearly apologetic.

“Look. You know I couldn’t just have you let him out without consequences, right?”

Sidekick just wanted the day to be over. From the moment he woke up, maybe an hour had passed. But every sob dragged energy out of him like broken glass. Hero shushed him, and sat a bit closer, throwing his arm around him.

“It’s okay. I know. But why did you even bring him upstairs? Surely, you knew that was reckless?”

Sidekick nodded, trying to speak past his hiccups.

“I-I f-felt bad,” he confessed. Hero sighed, and hauled him to an upright sitting position. Sidekick didn’t resist, and soon he was held against Hero’s chest. He could feel, as well as hear, his gentle voice.

“So you dragged poor Mascot in so much trouble, only to make yourself feel better? Don’t you think that’s a bit selfish?”

Sidekick couldn’t have responded to that if he wanted to. Instead, he just clung to Hero and buried his face in his shoulder in shame.

His words had been ringing in his head long before they had been spoken. Finally hearing them spoken aloud felt both right and painful. Hero shushed him, stroking his hair.

“Well, I think we all learned something valuable today. What a morning, eh?” He could hear the smile in Hero’s voice, in an effort to release the tension in the air. And just like that, everything was back to normal. Hero ruffled his hair and, in a rare show of affection, pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

“Let’s start of this day a bit better; hm? I’m thinking pancakes, what about you?” Sidekick rubbed the last tears of his face and nodded.

He had learned his lesson. If he tried to ease his conscious and helped Villain, it would only get them both in trouble. He would behave. For both their sakes.

#behind the masks

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whumpdedoodledoo · 3 days ago

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Hero and Villain: Sidekick's punishment

This is part of a series (Masterlist here).

CWs: explicit minor whump (Character is 16. See end of chapter for specifics), knife threat, brief reference to cognitive difficulty, a dash of ableism, extreme emotional manipulation, abusive guardian. Be warned.)

tagging: @octopus-reactivated

When Sidekick woke up the next morning, he didn’t realize at first why his heart was beating so hard. Blinking the sleep from his eyes, his instinctive fear was explained: Hero’s footsteps came upstairs.

It was a day earlier than he said he’d be home. Shocked to full awakeness, Sidekick glanced at Villain. He lay on Sidekick’s bed, while the other had spent the night on a mattress.

Sidekick couldn’t breathe. Ideas flashed through his head: hide Villain in his closet. No, Hero would still see the mattress, and the snacks they’d brought upstairs. He could confess upfront and hope that lowers the punishment. In the end, he just sat upright frozen, trembling. He stared at the door like it was an oncoming train.

“Morning, Sidekick!” called Hero’s cheerful voice. “Turns out the conference got cancelled, can you believe that? Anyway, good to see you didn’t burn the house down when I was gone.”

He chuckled. It sounded like he was almost up the stairs, nearing the hallway. Sidekick saw that Villain wake up, too, and raised his head. Whites were showing all around his eyes.

“W-wait,” he whispered, terrified. “Is that-”

“Sidekick?” asked Hero. “It’s almost noon. You up yet?”

As Hero’s silhouetted head appeared in the frosted glass panel in the door, Villain fell over himself as he scrambled out the bed. Sidekick still couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. He’d been fully prepared to face Hero’s wrath just a few hours ago, but that was when he believed he could get Villain out. Now, he felt the tears already threatening to break through, and he hadn’t even been caught yet.

Sidekick felt something cold press against his neck. For a moment, his panic was undercut by his confusion. They’d brought some fruit snacks up last night. Villain was pressing the knife they used against his neck, his other hand on his shoulder.

“Villain?” He whispered. “Wh-what are you-”

“Shh, just let me handle it.” Villain hissed back. His eyes were still cloudy and unfocused, but dark. Despite the tremble in his hands, he almost looked like the bold, cunning Villain he’d once been. “Follow my lead.”

Hero stepped into the room. His eyebrows shot up, and he stilled. Sidekick had to admit, he wished he’d react to his ward being threatened with a bit more than mild surprise.

“Oh.” he simply said. “And what do we have here?”

Behind him, Sidekick felt Villain tremor. He swallowed, taking longer than it should to formulate his response. When he spoke, his voice was weak.

“You- you’re gonna let me go, okay? A-and the kid doesn’t get hurt.”

Sidekick couldn’t help but glance at him from the corners of his eye in disbelief. Just a few hours ago, he’d insisted there was no way for him to survive on his own.

No. There’s no way he genuinely thought he could escape. He was simply giving him a cover story. Luckily, his shock was pretty easy to conceal as terror.

“I’m sorry, Hero,” he whimpered. “He just jumped on me, I’m so sorry.”

Hero didn’t respond right away. He eyes went between Villain and Sidekick, who both flinched under his gaze. Sidekick even thought to catch Villain “losing time” for a few seconds, his grip going slack and eyes hazy.

Hero nodded and pressed his lips together.

“...Right. Okay.” He took a casual step forward, and Villain flinched backwards. Sidekick gasped as the knife pressed closer, though not breaking the skin yet. Villain corrected his grip.

“G-get back! I’m serious!”

Hero didn’t seem bothered by that at all. Sidekick swallowed, carefully. He looked in his guardian’s cold eyes. Surely, he would care if this were real, right?

“Poor Mascot,” tutted Hero. “You must be really confused if you think I’m going to fall for that. I know it’s hard for you, but do try to think.”

“N-no, I mean it, stand back!”

Hero shook his head. Casually strolling about the room, he talked as though he was explaining something to a child.

“Okay, let’s say you’re right, and you managed to overpower my charge here. That’s not possible, of course. You haven’t done as much as walked in months, and he has been training daily. If your story were true, he’d be pretty useless. But, for argument’s sake, let’s say it’s true.” He paused his pacing, staring down the couple with his icy blue eyes.

“Even then, Sidekick has the keys, too. Why wait for me to come home? Just overpower him and leave. Your act is fooling nobody.”

Sidekick piped up. “I’m sorry, I lost the keys, I-”

“Oh, shut up, Sidekick.” In an instant, Hero’s tone turned from analytical and teasing, to barely contained stern fury. “You,” and he pointed at him, “are in enough trouble as is, young man. Don’t make it worse by lying.”

Villain was dropping in and out of awareness, now. For about one or two seconds at a time, his head was droop slightly. Sidekick wished he wouldn’t have a breakdown holding a knife so close to his throat.

“He-he-he, hm. He's telling the truth, Hero. Do-do you really wanna, hm, risk it?”

Hero laughed.

“Sure.” He grinned. Sidekick didn’t have to act at being scared, anymore.

“Convince me, big boy.” Hero mocked. “Don’t pick up a knife if you’re not prepared to use it.”

Sidekick didn’t have to guts to look back at Villain’s expression. His breath was shallow and quick as he looked into his mentor’s eyes, and found nothing. Not even the slightest shred of doubt or concern. Just a gloating arrogance.

“Well? Just stab him, doesn't even have to be lethal. Or admit this is all a sad act.”

The knife trembled. Sidekick held his breath. He wouldn’t. Would he?

A broken sob sounded behind Sidekick, and the knife cluttered to the ground. Villain folded up in a heap on the floor, head in his hands.

Hero strolled forward, until he stood before the still kneeling Sidekick, who looked up at him tearfully.

“Hero, I’m-”

He was cut off by Hero grabbing a hold of his ear. With a yelp, he was pulled to his feet.

“I believe,” Hero snarled through gritted teeth, “you and I need to have a chat.”

Villain looked up.

“W-wait,” he stammered, “It was my idea, don’t hurt him, Hero-!”

But Hero had already dragged Sidekick out of his bedroom and slammed the door. The lock was on the outside, and he clicked it closed. Sidekick could hear Villain yell muffled protests through the wood, but he couldn’t make out the words over his own panic ringing in his ears. Hero still held his ear in a pinching grip and, without a word, yanked him along.

Sidekick pulled away like a stubborn lamb being led to slaughter. It made hot pain flare up all along the side of his head.

“Wait, wait, please stop! I’m sorry, I won’t do it again, please!” He assumed they would turn toward the kitchen, or maybe the training room, but instead they descended the stairs further.

Hero was going to punish him in the basement. Sidekick’s struggles intensified, but it only made Hero pull him along harder. He was finally released as he was pushed into the cell. The air already smelled of fear. As Hero approached, cold fury still on his face, it took everything in Sidekick not to simply fall to his knees in terror. He was begging and apologizing, barely aware of the words coming out his mouth. He went through all the phrases and apologies that usually helped calm Hero down.

Hero still didn’t speak. He looked at his ward, and to the terrible contraption in the middle of the room. The chair. He smiled, wryly.

It was then that Sidekicks legs did give out. He stumbled, holding himself upright with the wall.

“No…” he whispered. “No, Hero, you can’t!”

“You did this to yourself.” Hero calmly walked toward him, “Now, don’t make this difficult.”

Dignity was a lost concept. Sidekick made a run for it, but was easily caught. He shrieked as he was dragged over. He tried to defend himself, but even with all his training, he was no match. The first straps were put over his wrists, then his legs, to keep him from kicking. Sidekick was starting to get a tingly feeling in his hands and feet from lack of oxygen, as he was trying to cry and speak at the same time.

“Hero, Hero, please don’t! It was a mistake, I’m sorry!” He sobbed. “Please, I’m just a kid!”

Hero had looped the neck strap through the buckle, but hadn’t tightened it yet. It just lightly rested against Sidekicks throat. Hero stared down at him.

“Oh? So all the things you do are okay, just because you’re younger? Is that it?”

Sidekick shook his head, too terrified to argue. Hero tsked, a sound that made him flinch.

“Even when you’re clearly in the wrong, you still try to manipulate me. I thought I raised you better than that.”

With his vision swimming in tears, Sidekick dared to look up. He blinked, trying to get a good view of the man before him. He thought about the times Hero had comforted him after a nightmare. The trips for ice cream. The proud smile he had when he’d finally master a move in training. Sidekick tried to put into his eyes what he couldn’t bring himself to say out loud.

I still love you, Hero. You’re the only parent I have left. Please don’t do this. He swallowed, trying to catch his breath from crying. Not to me.

Hero looked in his eyes. And then he tightened the belt. Sidekick screamed. Not for mercy, no apologies. He just cried like a frightened child. Hero put the blindfold on him, and he could hear the static of the headphones over his ears. And then he stopped. The headphones weren’t touching his skin yet, and Sidekick could hear his own ragged, wet breaths. And then, with the relief of rain in the desert, Hero pulled the headphones away.

“There,” he said, calm as can be. “I think we learned our lesson, hm?”

Sidekick was too rushed with adrenaline to speak. Hero’s words barely registered, he could only shake like a wet kitten as the blindfold and straps were taken off him. He tried to stand up, feeling like even touching the chair would burn him, but Hero guided him back down. He crouched in front of him, caging him in.

Sidekick managed to get his trembling lips to cooperate.

“I-I’m sorry, please, don’t put me in, please.” He sounded hoarse from screaming. Hero smiled at him, and part of him could cry at seeing him pleased again.

“Of course, kiddo.” He moved to ruffle his hair, but Sidekick pulled back. For a moment, Hero’s face fell slightly. But then he just sighed.

“Right. But you know I would never actually put you in, right? This was just to frighten you a little. Some payback for how much you scared me.”

He leaned down, trying to get eye contact with Sidekick.

“I was so worried about you, you know. You scared me half to death, so I figured you needed a taste of your own medicine. Don’t you agree that that’s fair?”

Sidekick nodded, desperate for any sympathetic words. The relief of not ending up like Villain flooded him, and he emotionally crashed. As long as he wouldn’t lose his mind and sanity, he’d agree to anything Hero said.

Hero smiled gently at him. He held out his arms, welcoming.

“Are we buddies again?” he asked, nearly sheepish.

Sidekick knew how he was supposed to answer. He threw himself into his embrace, still shuddering from fright and mental exhaustion. Hero petted his head and swayed side to side. His voice was soft.

“Now, how about you and I go see a movie, hm? To forget all about this nasty morning. You can pick.”

Sidekick actually only wanted to lay in bed and cry, until his nerves stopped being on fire, but he recognized a peace offering when he saw one. He nodded.

“Okay, bucko.” Said Hero, and he kissed the top of his head.

Still holding him in an embrace, he softly asked:

“Now, of course Mascot needs to be punished, too. What do you think we should do?”

Sidekick froze, but Hero kept on swaying, pulling him along. His heart started beating fast, mind shocked from comfort back into finding the right strategy.

Trying to convince Hero that Villain had no fault in it could only backfire. If he thought up something too mild, Hero would think he was on Villain’s side. And of course he didn’t want Villain to suffer any more than necessary. He would have to try and find a punishment that toed the line. He swallowed.

“Well,” he said nervously. “Vill- Mascot. Mascot seems pretty fond of me. So maybe… Maybe if I promise to never, ever visit him again, that’d be punishment enough?”

Sidekick felt sick. It was cruel, he knew. Just the day before, Villain had told him he was the only thing keeping him going. But it was the only punishment that popped into his head that wouldn't physcially hurt him. Hero hummed.

“Well, you weren’t supposed to be down there in the first place. But I think you’re onto something. He does really like you, doesn’t he?”

He raised and helped Sidekick stand up, as well.

“Let’s pay our friend a little visit before we leave, hm?” [A/N: I'm sorry to leave on a cliffhanger, but what Hero has in mind for Villain deserves it's own chapter. I will also go back and finish the comfort between Sidekick and Villain that happened before this, at some point. He deserves to have a nice bath before.. well. You'll see.]

Minor whump specifics: Sidekick gets a knife pressed against his throat. He also gets threatened with being put in the chair. Hero really seems to follow through, but doesnt in the end.

#behind the masks

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whumpdedoodledoo · 3 days ago

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Sidekick and Villain: The "Comfort" Fic

This is a part of the Behind the Masks series (Masterlist here).

Taglist: @fanastyfinder @octopus-reactivated @whumpy-arts-and-crafts [A/N: Major shoutout to @octopus-reactivated for bullying me until I finished this :P] CWs: past starvation, unhealthy response to food, emeto, brain damage and resulting internalized ableism, disassociation.

And so, Sidekick and Villain started their day with Hero gone.

Sidekick opened the fridge like a magician reveals a dissapeared girl.

“Tada! So, what do you want to eat?”

Villain’s eyes darted over all the food splayed out.

“Uhm,” he said, hesitantly. “All of it?”

Sidekick chuckled.

“Right, fair, but we have to start with something. I can also cook something, if you want.”

It had been so long since Villain was able to make any decision for himself, and his head was buzzing. He had to make this count, he had to pick the most perfect option, because it was the only solid food he’d get for such a long time. But it all looked so good... Not to mention the list of options never stayed in his head long enough for him to keep track of, his eyes bouncing from ingredient to ingredient in a desperate attempt to remember them all. Oh God, there was an entire cabinet of non-perishables as well, wasn’t there? At that realisation, he gave up. He closed his eyes and sighed.

“You pick something Sidekick, I... I can’t.”

Too stupid, too broken to even pick his own food. What a sight he must make.

Sidekick thought.

“Uh. Okay. Well, I can make a mean omelet. Or I can make pancakes. Do you have a preference there?”

Villain lit up. “Oh, I would kill for a pancake.”

“No need, I’m on it.” joked Sidekick.

Then, there was a spark, a brief connection to an earlier life. Villain said it aloud, before he was even fully aware he’d thought it. He sounded slightly surprised.

“I like mine with fruit and maple syrup.”

It wasn’t even a request. It was more a realisation that, once, he had liked things. He once had pancakes so often, he developed a preference.

Memories flashed through his head. Diners, cooking lunch on those rare days he wasn’t busy in the lab. The occasional hotel. How did Hench like hers, again? Was it chocolate spread?

Villain was pulled from his thoughts when Sidekick tapped his shoulder. He held a plate with a stack of pancakes. Villain blinked.

“Oh! That was fast.”

Sidekick’s brows were knit together.

“Not really. You just went away for a bit.”

Ah. Villain felt oddly embarrassed, though he knew losing time wasn’t his fault. He didn’t know if he was aware during those moments and simply forgot, or if he just... turned off. He didn’t know which was worse. He shook his head, as though he could rattle his neurons in the correct order again.

“Right. Right. Well, glad to be back.”

Sidekick sat the plate in front of him. There was already a bottle of maple syrup on the table, next to a plastic container with berries. Villain could weep at the sight.

He started small, grabbing a blueberry with two fingers and, after a short pauze, popped it in his mouth.

It was bright and taut and slightly tart. Villain grabbed another, ate it, and then another, and then a handful. The berries were so small that he barely had to chew. Villain got so caught up in the euphoria of eating, of finally feeling like a goddamn person again, he hardly bothered. Oh, he nearly forgot about the pancakes! They were uneven, clearly homemade, but golden brown and steaming. He threw the remaining berries on top and grabbed the maple syrup. Using two hands, he managed with a grunt to tip it enough to pour. Had bottles always been this heavy? No matter.

Shakingly, messily, after having dropped the knife twice with his tremoring hands, he cut off a piece of the stack. Everything faded away: the only thing he saw, the only thing he cared about, was inhaling the steaming, fluffy deliciousness. Maybe he should savor it, a part of him thought. But that was quickly pushed aside when the first bite exploded in his mouth. He thought he could feel every cell in his body scream in extatic joy, like a pack of starved dogs. Only in this moment did his body fully push past the nausea in his stomach, and notice he was famished.

The next moments were a blur. He barely had time to swallow before taking his next bite, and- Suddenly, he stopped. Not because he wanted to. It was like his body overrode his brain’s desire to continue eating. His senses came back online; he was sticky, he’d started stuffing his face by hand. Most of the stack was gone, there were just a few pancakes left. Sidekick was saying something, but he couldn’t make anything out beyond a worried tone. And why did he feel so-

The pancakes came back up. He was at least able to turn away from the table, but couldn’t stop the mess from hitting the floor. Sidekick’s words became audible.

“Oh, Villain... I tried telling you, but you weren’t.. Hang on, I’ll grab a bucket.”

Villain’s stomach cramped. “Quickly,” he managed to eke out.

The bucket came just in time for the second wave. What a crying shame. His shrunken stomach protested the rough treatment, and Villain paid the price for his hastiness. The worst part, he thought as he heaved, was that he was still hungry. The food hadn’t stuck around long enough to be digested and do him any good.

It didn’t take very long for his stomach to be emptied out. In the meantime, Sidekick had cleaned up the mess and got him a glass of water and a washcloth. What a good kid. He waited next to him, as he rinsed his mouth and cleaned up a bit.

“So,” the boy asked carefully, “we should probably wait a bit before trying again, I think.”

Despite his hunger, his stomach flipped at the mere idea of eating. One of his favourite meals, right before him, and he had ruined his chance at it. At the defeated look on his face, Sidekick said: “Hey, it’s fine, no worries. We’ll just put it in the fridge. Or I can make something else later, it’s really no big deal.”

He nodded. As he blinked, his eyes stayed closed a bit longer than they should. Being sick had tired him, as had the waves of emotions. His brain started to get filled with static.

He woke up in a bathroom. He was sat near the wall, and Sidekick was filling a bath. He stirred, and the kid looked over at him.

“Good morning.”

Villain tried to remember how he got there, but drew a blank.

“Was... was I asleep?”

Sidekick shrugged. “Kinda.” His voice was casual, but his shoulders were tense.

“Your sort of passed out again.You were awake, but.. no one was home. I thought I might as well get that bath started.”

Just how much brain was there left in him, Villain wondered. Usually, the days blended together, and the parts that he skipped, he didn’t want to experience anyway. Still, he felt bad for the kid. Hopefully he wouldn’t give him nightmares.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “that must have been scary to see.”

With his back to him, Sidekick shrugged.

“It sucks the most for you, let’s be real here. Anyway, I think we’re just about ready.”

Sidekick tried not to wince as he pulled Villain’s ragged shirt from his frame. There was so little of him left. Even his spine was clearly visible under his pallid skin, which hadn’t seen the sun in a year now. It was as white as paper, and the bluish veins were visible, as were the cruel dark bruises from the straps of the chair. Across his neck and wrists, where they had chafed directly against the fragile skin, they had a sheen of beginning scar tissue to them.

Villain noticed his look, and tried to cover his chest with his arms. Sidekick shouldn’t have to be exposed to something like this. But it was too late for that, he supposed.

He tried to pull himself upright by gripping the bathtub, but only managed to lift himself a few centimeters. His arms shook, and his legs scrabbled on the tiles before he collapsed again.

He swallowed, bright red shame somehow still finding it’s way to his face, even after all he had already gone through. He tried again, determined to do something, anything on his own. But even the attempt to get his own meager weight on his feet made every muscle in his shoulders burn, and after trying in vain to simply stand up, he let go with a dry sob.

Useless. Broken. Hero was right, what could he even do on his own now? He rubbed the stray tear of his cheek and looked up to see Sidekick by his side, holding out his hand.

Sidekick didn’t ask if he needed it: they both knew what the answer was. Villain looked at him, teary eyed, and then dropped his gaze when he took his hand. Sidekick nearly fell over when he helped pull him upright: he still wasn’t used to the weight, or lack thereof, of the man. He stood awkwardly, resting almost all of his weight on his good leg, creating a lopsided posture. He held onto him as he hobbled over the tub.

It was a good thing Sidekick held onto him gently, but tight, because the second his feet hit the warm water his knees buckled. Sidekick was basically holding him up by himself, as the man had become boneless from the relief flooding him.

Sidekick helped him sit down in the bubble-filled water, that reached halfway up his chest. A guilty part of Sidekick felt glad of it: it made it a bit easier to look at Villain, this way.

He took a cup, and started gently scooping the water and letting it flow over the sitting figure. His face was stern, focused on this task like it was the most important mission. In contrast, Villain closed his eyes in pure bliss. Sidekick noticed his chest rise and fall with his deep breaths, and for just a moment, everything felt as close to safe they could get.

#behind the masks

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