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oliversrarebooks · 2 months

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fuck you, I'm a goddamn menace: the truth is...

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This came about as a result of the Choose Your Own Whump poll! The winners were:

secret underground facility

whumpee who is traumatized and hiding it badly

creepily intimate whumper

the corruption was infecting their thoughts, turning them against their allies

tw: restraints, beatings, physical and emotional abuse, drugging, needles, poison, truth serum, mind control

One year after the city's second-most notorious villain, the technomancer Morgan, was taken in by the hero team for medical treatment...

Morgan cracked his eyes open and immediately had to shut them again, blinded by obnoxiously bright lights.

He was woozy, barely awake, and his entire body hurt -- especially his right hand, which was throbbing with pain. It almost felt like some of his fingers had been broken, but he knew from experience that that would hurt far worse than this, unless...

The dreamlike haze slowing down his mind confirmed it. He was on some pretty strong painkillers. It was the sort of thing that would have sent him into a blind panic before, terrified of being incapacitated, but lately he'd been getting used to it. When he'd worked for Salcedo, the city's nastiest supervillain, he never received any form of painkillers, his boss far preferring to use his painful, torturous healing ability to re-injure Morgan and heal him back wrong again and again. A punishment for meeting his defeat at the hands of heroes, or looking at Salcedo wrong, or anything else the boss dreamed up.

That had all changed since he'd officially switched sides. No matter how badly he screwed up, no matter how much he irritated the shit out of the heroes, they always provided him with proper medical care, complete with ample medication. The feel of a hospital bed underneath him confirmed it: he must be in the heroes' infirmary, and that meant he could actually relax.

He'd have to deal with Arthur, the team leader, and his unwanted concern and pity later, of course. That was absolutely a thorn in his side. He was definitely not looking forward to it.

Morgan shifted slightly, his wrists sore, and realized that he couldn't. He was restrained? And not with soft, comfortable restraints either, but hard metal ones.

That couldn't be right. The hero team hadn't seen fit to restrain him in almost a year. He'd somehow managed to establish trust with them -- an uneasy, fragile trust, but trust nonetheless -- and he couldn't remember what he'd done to break that trust. The last thing he remembered was fighting his former boss at the city power plant, Arthur shouting his name... and then it all got blurry. He'd been injured, somehow, and he had a vague memory of collapsing into a dirty puddle with the sounds of the fight still raging around him.

He'd been fighting alongside the hero team, on a mission with them, taking out Salcedo's communications equipment and drones left and right. Why would they restrain him now, when he'd been helping them? He used his technomancy to feel out any nearby machines, and found it unresponsive. They'd used power suppressors, too.

The realization forced his eyelids to fly open, and as he adjusted to the painful light, an all-too-familiar ceiling swam into view. Harsh, bare, buzzing fluorescent lighting flickered too close to his face.

He wasn't in the heroes' infirmary at all. He wasn't even in a civilian hospital or a jail infirmary or a psychiatric ward. No, he was in Salcedo's lair, drugged and restrained. The first time he'd been captured since he'd betrayed his boss and started fighting by Arthur's side to stop his plans.

Oh, fuck.

The surge of adrenaline cleared his mind enough to think. Salcedo was going to torture him, that much was certain. Salcedo punished Morgan with beatings, starvation, and torture even for small mistakes -- one of the primary reasons Morgan had finally defected -- so he didn't even want to think about what his punishment for open betrayal would be. The fact that he was still alive at all could only mean that Salcedo was plotting something truly nasty.

Why was he drugged, though? The restraints and power suppressants had him entirely at Salcedo's mercy, and drugs were never a technique he had favored, since he didn't want Morgan's mind dulled to the pain and stress. Since he was already physically restrained, the only answer Morgan could come up with was that the drugs were necessary to compromise his mind. And that wasn't a comforting thought in the slightest.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He would be rescued, wouldn't he? The hero team would definitely notice he was missing. They'd figure out what happened to him. He'd have to deal with Arthur's smug fucking face over rescuing his stupid ass again, but even that embarrassment was a vast improvement over whatever Salcedo had planned. There was no way Arthur would pass up the opportunity to preen and gloat over his heroism. He'd definitely go out of his way to rescue Morgan for that reason alone.

Unless he didn't.

Unless the hero team decided a half-reformed villain barely in control of his own powers wasn't worth it. Unless they were only putting up with him because it stopped him from being a nuisance. Unless they thought back on the things he'd done as a villain and decided he deserved whatever Salcedo had cooked up for him.

God fucking damn it.

He hated them sometimes. Hated their easy laughter and their camaraderie. Hated the way they awkwardly tried to include him in the group like a weird kid at recess. Hated Arthur's flawless smile, and his sickening dedication to doing the right thing, and how quick he was with a reassuring word, and how he worked so hard he had to practically be forced to rest --

Yeah, he hated them all, and they probably hated him too, and they'd be glad if Salcedo lobotomized him. He never should have defected in the first place.

Morgan heard footsteps approaching the door, and shut his eyes again just as it opened. The sound of Salcedo's heavy combat boots approaching him was enough to send panic spiking through his heart, but he tried not to show it on his face, stubbornly pretending to be out still.

"I know you're awake, Morgan," said his former boss's deceptively smooth voice. "Don't embarrass yourself."

Morgan didn't twitch a muscle.

"You're a smart man. Or at least, I thought you were before you went and pulled this little stunt. The point is that you know very well where you stand right now."

So do whatever torture you came here to do and spare me your self-important monologuing, he thought. I'd rather have my fingernails pulled out than listen to you.

"You betrayed me, Morgan."

Here it comes.

"I gave everything to you. An unhappy teenager from an unhappy home, like so many others, but you were different from them, weren't you? You had potential. You had brains. And most of all, you had that wonderful little gift of a power. And I gave you everything. I trained you, I funded your lab and your inventions, I gave you food and a roof over your head. I forgave you for all of your many mistakes with only... sensible punishments."

Morgan tried not to flinch as Salcedo got even closer.

"And yet, you betrayed me."

Morgan tensed for Salcedo's fist a moment before it connected with his cheek, pain blossoming from his shattered cheekbone. The pain was chased by a warm stinging feeling, Salcedo's healing power, before he was cracked across the face again. Breaking faces only to heal them and break them again was one of Salcedo's signature moves, and Morgan could almost tune out the familiar beating, especially since the painkillers dampened the sensation. His ears were ringing, and he knew he'd be severely concussed with his face swollen beyond recognition if it weren't for Salcedo healing him after each punch, allowing him to prolong the beating as long as he liked.

It was only when Salcedo slowed down and gave Morgan's mind enough time to recover from the assault that he finally decided to crack his eyes open. "Is that all?" he said, knowing that his fate was sealed whether or not he provoked the supervillain.

"That was just your punishment for the time you broke into headquarters and damaged some of my henchmen and equipment," he said. "Your punishment for betrayal hasn't even started yet."

"Hm, let me guess what it will be. Is it punching me in the face? Or maybe you want to mix it up a bit and punch me in the kidneys. Or get spicy and kick me in the --"

With no change in expression, Salcedo grabbed Morgan's injured hand and twisted, the bones audibly cracking. Morgan couldn't retain his straight face, and a sad little whimper escaped from his lips.

"Now that I have your undivided attention, allow me to explain exactly what is going to happen to you. Anticipation is half the fun, you know," he said, the sickening green light from his fingertips mending Morgan's bones back into place, a process almost as painful as the initial injury. He pulled a capped syringe full of a clear liquid from his pocket.

"If you're banking on me being scared of needles..." Morgan bluffed while internally screaming. He'd rather have the beating. At least those were predictable.

"Of course not. I'm banking on you being scared of what Marcy in the chemistry department has been cooking up since you've been gone." He tapped the side of the syringe. "It's not quite a mind control drug, but it's a good start -- a combination of potent truth serum that dulls your mind, and a sedative that makes you highly suggestible. The tests we've conducted on henchmen have been most amusing."

"...So what? A truth serum? You think the hero team trusts me with some secret information? They don't. And they have official protocol to change out the passcodes when anyone's captured, so you're not going to get anything useful."

"Oh, Morgan, don't worry your pretty little head. I'm not expecting you to be useful for your information. I have much better plans than that."

Morgan's struggles were futile as Salcedo pushed the syringe into his arm and pushed the plunger. He didn't know what the fuck Salcedo thought he was going to accomplish with this and didn't want to find out, and he especially didn't want his mind put out of commission for any length of time.

Salcedo's smug face was both infuriating and unreadable. What was his game? Morgan knew he had better figure it out before -- before --

-- before whatever was in that syringe shifted his mind out of gear. He pulled against the restraints again, shaking his head, as though it would somehow stop or slow the deep fog settling in over his mind. His eyelids grew heavy and lidded as he blinked slowly up at his wretched former boss, the intense sense of dread muffled as it became more difficult to think clearly.

"That looks to be kicking in nicely. I'm guessing you're ready to tell the truth now. Just let it all out," said Salcedo, grabbing his chin and looking into his eyes. "How are you feeling?"

Morgan wanted to spit in his fucking face, but instead... "Groggy. Out of it. What the fuck is in that stuff?"

"It's a miracle drug, isn't it? That's why Marcy is a star employee and you're an also-ran. I only wish I could use this on Arthur. See what the city's shining hope really has buried deep down inside."

"There isn't anything buried," said Morgan before he can think twice. "He really is just that fucking heroic. Makes me sick. ...And jealous." He shook his head again, trying to could do anything to clear that uncomfortable fog. He had the dim feeling that he hadn't meant to say all of that, that the drug was working, but he didn't seem able to resist. The words came out before he could measure them.

"Is that so?" Salcedo chuckled. "Is that why you betrayed me?"

"No, I betrayed you because you're a fucking miserable sack of dicks who beats me for fun," said Morgan, fire cutting through the fog. "You think consequences will never apply to you, that there will never be any repercussions for treating your henchmen like shit smeared on your shoe. I can't wait until they all turn on you. I hope they kick your fucking teeth in."

"How charming," said Salcedo in a strained voice. "Now, I realize you can't help expressing your true feelings while you're high off that drug I gave you, so it would be unfair of me to punish you."

Then he smashed his fist across Morgan's mouth, allowing Morgan to cough up a mouthful of blood before healing him.

"Listen to me, Morgan," said Salcedo, this time grabbing his face with more force and purpose. "You will listen to me, and you will absorb everything I have to say."

"No, no --" Morgan tried to pull himself free, but he'd always been physically much weaker than his boss, and the drug cocktail wasn't helping.

"You've always been a villain, haven't you? I found you and I molded you int a villain, one capable of terrorizing the city on so many occasions. Have you forgotten that?"

"No..."

"And you enjoyed yourself. You loved making your gadgets, you loved watching the civilians scream and cower. You loved the feeling of power and control. And you still love it."

"I... I do..." he said. He'd been fighting so hard to suppress all of that lately, to show the hero team he could be more than just a villain, that he could do something helpful for a change... but deep down inside, a part of him missed laughing maniacally while riding some mechanical monstrosity through the city.

The truth was, heroics was fucking hard. Civilians were unpredictable and frequently ungrateful, and with the hero team, he was no longer allowed to blow them off and make them someone else's problem. He had to work had. He had to care.

"That's right, Morgan, you miss being a villain." Salcedo's voice was like a snake tightening around its prey. "It's all you were ever good for. It's all you'll ever be good for."

That was exactly what Morgan often felt late at night, in his bunk in the heroes' headquarters, wondering what the fuck he was doing there and how long it could last. "I'm..."

"It's all you'll ever be good for," said Salcedo with more force, letting it sink into Morgan's compromised brain.

"It's all I'll ever be good for," he repeated in a dull voice, resistance crumbling.

"You hate trying to be a hero. It's too hard. You're awful at it. You're tired, and you want to give up. You want to give in."

He really was so, so tired. "I want... I want to give up..."

"You hate working with the hero team," Salcedo hissed in his ear. "You're jealous of them, aren't you? How they're praised and fawned over while you rot in the shadows, fighting for the smallest scraps of recognition. How they don't trust you."

"I..." A memory flashed through his mind. Arthur convincing him to join in on the team's horror movie night. Julie, the youngest, screaming, while Toshiro criticized the effects. Laughing, eating popcorn, forgetting for a moment who and what he was.

He couldn't forget for long. He could see it in their eyes, in their hesitance, how fragile the trust was.

"You'll never be one of them. They'll never trust you. You're a villain, and that's all you'll ever be."

It was true, wasn't it? They would never trust him. He'd escaped Salcedo, only to spend his time scraping and clawing to get the hero team's trust. Fighting to be something he wasn't, when he knew, he knew, he'd never be good enough for them.

And this was the proof, wasn't it? They weren't coming to rescue him. No one was coming to rescue him.

"You hate them, Morgan. I know you do. You hate them more than anything."

"I... I hate..." The corrupting voice was twisting his thoughts, making it hard to think anything but what he was told.

"That's right," he coaxed. "You hate them. And you hate Arthur most of all."

Arthur. That's right, he hated Arthur. Arthur with his perfect smile. Arthur with his words of encouragement. Arthur telling Morgan that he believed in him, believed he could be something better, as though he had any right.

Arthur, who probably knew by now that he was wrong, that Morgan was no better than any other villain, who wouldn't be lifting a finger to rescue him from the trap he'd inevitably found himself in.

"You hate Arthur," Salcedo insisted.

"I..."

It should be so easy. It was the truth: he did hate Arthur. And he hadn't been able to resist the serum up until now. Why was he choking on these words?

"You. Hate. Arthur."

"Of course I don't hate you," said Arthur, once, on a quiet, moonlit night, sitting on top of a building, guarding a museum from an impending heist. "You're a clever guy and a hard worker, and you can do the right thing when it really matters. And the villainy? I'm not saying it's okay, because it definitely wasn't, but I get where it comes from. I do. Any of us powered people could've gone down the same path."

"I don't," said Morgan under his breath.

"What was that?"

Morgan's voice caught again. He did hate Arthur. Hated how much he wished he could see Arthur's dumb fucking face as he kicked down the door. Hated how much he wanted to be in the heroes' infirmary, with Arthur checking up on him and delivering a snack or book of puzzles, instead of here.

He hated how Arthur made him want to be something more than just a villain, and how fucking hard it was, all the time.

"I don't hate Arthur," Morgan said more clearly, unable to stop it. "I want to hate him, because it'd make everything so much easier, but I don't. I can't."

Salcedo recoiled in disbelief, a look of shock and disgust on his face. "Oh, for fuck's sake. You can't be fucking serious. He hates you, you know. He's foiled your plans so many times --"

"He doesn't hate me," said Morgan with more confidence. "He said it himself, every time I asked him. And he doesn't fuck around with that kind of thing. If he says it, he means it. It's infuriating."

"Fucking hell. I suspected, but --" Salcedo grabbed Morgan by the front of his flimsy medical gown, pulling him close enough that he could feel hot breath on his face. "Are you in love with him?!"

Morgan froze.

No. Fuck no. That's what he wanted to say. No, obviously not.

But he couldn't.

His head pounded.

"I don't know."

"You. Don't. Know?" Salcedo screamed in his face.

"I don't know!" The fog in his head was so thick, making it impossible for him to think through his words. "I don't know how I feel about him -- or about anything -- or if I'm even capable of --"

Salcedo grabbed his head and slammed it against the medical bed, sending his ears ringing. "Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck! The one fucking thing I wanted you for, the one fucking thing you were going to be good at and you can't even do that right -- what kind of useless, idiot villain can't even hate the man who beats him into the ground once a week --" His laugh was harsh and bitter. "Oh hell, maybe you actually like that. I bet you do. Fucking little freak."

Morgan ignored the insult, trying to push aside the insinuations that he really, really didn't want to think about in this state. Salcedo had wanted him for something. There was a point to all of this apart from psychological torment. He tried to grasp that thought with his slippery mind, recognizing its importance. "What were you going to have me do?"

"Be a sleeper agent. Stoke the fires of hatred within you. Let the hero team rescue you, pretend everything was normal, and then when their guards were down, kill them all."

His chest tightened. "No -- I don't want to -- I won't!"

"Oh, it's beyond obvious you won't. I can see that now. You're not only useless, you're fucking delusional. So it's on to plan B."

"Plan B?"

"Remember these?" Salcedo held up a glass vial. Tiny, iridescent insects were flitting around inside, crawling up the glass and bumping against the lid.

Morgan surged forward in the restraints. "My babies!" he said, in the tone of someone reuniting with a long lost pet. He certainly did remember them -- his mechanical mosquitoes, one of his favorite inventions, which he'd had to leave behind during his semi-involuntary heroic turn. These small drones were easy for Morgan to control with his technological powers. They could be used for surveillance or distraction, equipped with tiny tools, or used to inject small amounts of potent drugs, incapacitating enemies and guards with sedatives or hallucinogens. On one memorable occasion, he'd laced them with the common cold, ensuring that the heroes would stay home while he raided the semiconductor factory. Good memories.

"They're my 'babies' now, I'm afraid," said Salcedo, pulling the vial further out of reach. "It took a while to override your protocols and reprogram them, but I think the effect will be worth it. You always used them for disgustingly non-lethal purposes. I've always wanted to change that."

He shrank back, not liking where this was going.

"They're fitted with a potent and especially painful neurotoxin, but they won't sting you immediately. No, they're programmed to hide in your clothing until disturbed. When Arthur comes to save you, that's when you'll get the privilege of watching his excruciating death, knowing he died in agony trying to save you."

"No, no, there's no way. He's not even going to come save me, you know, he's --"

"Oh, you fool. He's already on his way." Salcedo shoved a gag into Morgan's mouth, clasping it firmly shut. "Don't want you warning him. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have more important business." He opened the vial, and the little mosquito drones flew out and nestled in Morgan's medical gown, in the restraints, even in his hair. With his power suppressed, he was helpless to control them. He could only watch as Salcedo left the room.

Morgan screamed through the gag, accomplishing nothing but straining his throat. He had to come up with some sort of plan, but his head was swimming from stress and drugs and he couldn't hold on to any one thought long enough to formulate a strategy.

It didn't matter. Salcedo was wrong. No one was coming to rescue him.

...He must be imagining the sounds of a fight, drawing closer...

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