#i brought my laptop lmao but only cause ive been SO burnt out so im hoping this trip will Fix Me

[raineandsky]

#97

“[Villain].” The supervillain beckons them closer from around the door. “I think you might like this one.”

He’s in their little captive room; being a criminal organisation has made them improvise their spaces. A hero is tied to the rickety chair in the middle of the room, ignoring them both with their head bent. A rare sight, and a nice one at that. A sight that suggests a hint of winning.

“Wait,” the supervillain says softly.

They wait. Nothing happens. “[Supervillain], what—”

A sound breaks through their question. A sniffle. The villain ducks slightly to look at the hero’s face, catching the glistening trail of long-since shed tears on their cheeks. Catching heroes is rare enough, but having them cry about it? Gold.

The supervillain flashes them a quick grin. “Wait ‘til you hear their cover story.”

The villain steps forward and flops down in the seat in front of the hero. The hero keeps their head ducked, holding back shuddering breaths, and the villain simply waits for acknowledgement.

Waiting is in vain, it seems. The hero refuses to look up, even when they clear their throat expectantly.

“I thought heroes were meant to be made of steel,” they comment eventually.

The hero finally looks at them, and the villain only feels slightly bad about the miserable quiver of their mouth and the leaking of their eyes. “I’m not a hero,” they say shakily.

The villain raises their eyebrows. Denial’s a new one. “He must have told you that!” the hero continues, their gaze set on the supervillain at the door, and on the last word they break down into tears.

The villain glances back at the supervillain and he throws them another elated smirk. The slightly bad feeling they felt suddenly splits into painful worry.

They turn back to the hero and open their mouth to say something, but it occurs to them they don’t know who the hero is. They’ve never seen them before.

The worry becomes gnawing.

“You’re not a hero,” the villain reiterates slowly, and the hero’s head snaps up faster than the villain thought they could move.

“Yes!” they cry. Hours of tears scratch at their throat. “Thank god, yes. I’m– I’m not a hero. The agency they– they took me off the street, I’m not a hero or anything or– I’m not anything to do with them I swear please the agency is just–”

“Stop,” the villain snaps, and the hero's words cut off abruptly. “The agency took you off the street?”

The hero nods as they gulp down another sob. “I don’t know why. They threw me out in a hero costume and told me to distract the villains, I don’t– I don’t know anything—”

“Hey,” the villain says smoothly. They scoot their chair closer to the hero’s. “Hey, it’s okay. We’re all here because we hate the agency, right?” They glance back to the supervillain, who’s looking rather unimpressed by this turn of events. “You’re on our side now.”

The sob escapes the hero’s throat this time. Or whoever they are. “I just want to go home,” they manage through the tears.

The villain fishes a tissue from their pocket, tipping the hero’s head back to carefully wipe some of the tears from their face. “I know,” they say softly, “but the agency might be out searching for you right now. We’ll look after you until you can go home, okay?”

The hero hiccups their next breath. “T–Thank you.”

“I’ll get you back on your feet,” the villain says with a sigh. They glance back at the supervillain scowling from the door. “And [Supervillain] will go find whatever the hell the agency’s trying to distract us from.”