#syncsynd: writing

[syncope-syndrome]

— Everything You Know

"Unhand that civilian, Villain!"

This isn't the first time you've used some variation of that phrase. This isn't even the first time you've heard that phrase this week, which makes you wonder about how — or if — The League of Heroes communicate with each other.

The look on Villain's face is almost worth it, however, as they set down their half-empty cup and regard the blue-clad hero with an expression of utter contempt. lips curled into a patronizing sneer.

"Tell me, dear Blue..." Villain says, sweeping a hand over the table laid out between them. "Does this... anything about this... look like a kidnapping to you?"

You can see Blue's brow furrow as they take in the scene before them in full — the cups of tea set out in delicate porcelain saucers, the half-eaten charcuterie board, the Villain's loyal hound curled up at your feet, the lack of restraints on your arms. "What... What is this?"

"It's tea." Villain raises their own cup as if to emphasize. "Customary to serve to a visiting friend, in case the League is unfamiliar with hospitality."

"A... friend?" Blue's baffled gaze turns to you instead. The uniform shields their face, but it does nothing against the heat of their stare. Blue makes a sputtering sound, gesturing a hand weakly towards Villain. "Do you... Do you know who this is?"

"We've been friends since we were children, Blue," Villain explains, lowering their cup only to fill it again. Steam curls up and caresses their cheek before it vanishes, and the teapot is set down again with an elegant clink against the glass table. "They're so rarely in town, and given they're here for such a tragic reason, I felt it best to invite them over and provide a bit of succor."

Blue's arms fold across their chest. "What reason?" Villain's mouth opens, and Blue raises a hand to silence them. "I want to hear it from them, thank you."

"A cousin's funeral," you say quietly. "They were... killed, suddenly. I came to help get their affairs in order." Shock still coursed through you when you spoke the words out loud. Yellow hadn't asked, simply turning away with a judgmental scoff, and Red hadn't asked before they'd tried to attack Villain over the kidnapping that wasn't happening. Your family, even as they started to converge to attend, was disquietingly close-lipped about discussing their own emotions, so this is unfortunately, the first you felt able to speak about it.

Villain's gaze is sympathetic. "So, as you can see," they say to Blue curtly. "I'd prefer you and your silly little heroics did not interrupt someone's grieving. Again, mind you."

You see Blue's shoulders rise and fall with the heavy breath they take. "Forgive me," they begin. "But can I ask how?"

"No you can not." Villain cuts you off before you can reply. "You can, however, see yourself out. If you're too dull to remember how to properly exit my facilities, Henchman is more than willing to escort you."

"No, Villain, it's okay —" You speak just as Henchman manifests themselves behind Blue. "They're... My cousin worked for the local news... apparently they were reporting on an incident within the city, and... they couldn't get out of the way as some debris came down." You can still see the footage clear as day, even though you could never stomach watching it again. Their panicked waving as they tried to tell the camera person to run, their hand reaching out to shove them to the ground and to safety... their scream, and the camera panning over to the wreckage they were buried under...

"Journalist?" Blue says, and you look up at the sound of your cousin's name in surprise. "Yes, we know them. ...You... have our condolences." Blue's body language is suddenly tense, posture as rigid as stone. They give a final curt nod to you and Villain, hands clasped tight behind their back, and retreat just as swiftly as they came. It's so abrupt you start to rise to go after them, but Villain stops you with a flick of their wrist and a murmur of dissent. "Henchman," Villain calls to their ever-loyal butler. "See after them. My friend and I would like to continue our visit in peace." Henchman sweeps into an elegant bow and departs, leaving just you, Villain, and an unspeakable weight in the air.

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TW: mild/implications of torture, kidnapping

Villain does not let you leave empty-handed. Their parting gift is a dagger, engraved with gorgeous silver filagree that hides a paralytic toxin inside. You try to refuse it, but they insist, something about having a feeling you'll need it during your stay here. And you do, almost immediately. But you're overwhelmed before you can even think to reach for it.

Your poor defense — or, more charitably, their impressive offense — brings you here, in the center of a cold, dark room, strapped far too tight into a rickety dining chair. Blood oozes from your nose, and bruises ache with every shiver that runs through you. Your vision's blurred from a repeated assault, hitting you again, and again, and again, always with the same questions, always expecting a different answer. "I really don't think they know anything," says an unfamiliar voice from the shadows. Another snarls at them to shut up, a red-gloved hand fisting itself into your shirt and dragging you closer with a yelp. You stare at the big, black eye covers in their bright red mask as the hand shakes you again, hard, rubbing the rough hempen bindings against your already sore skin.

"Don't act fucking dumb, Civilian," says Red, as Green sighs in the background. Yellow simply stares, arms folded tight across their torso, saying nothing as Red continues their assault. "You said so yourself! Villain's your friend! What the fuck do you know about them?"

"I don't —" you try to say, but Red's hand comes down and slaps you across the face again. A fresh wave of blood bubbles from your nose and falls into your gasping mouth, coating your tongue in the taste of iron. "I can do this all day, Civilian," Red sneers. "You're going to tell us everything and anything you know about Villain. I don't give a shit for your little innocent act, you're fucking friends with a literal supervillain!"

But it's not an act. Villain moved away to Metropolis after graduation, and you'd barely kept in touch until they'd had the grace to reach out to you. You didn't know what they had been up to in the years since then, too busy eking out an existence in Beachfront City to keep up with almost anyone, let alone them. You'd bought their story of being a military arms dealer and researcher, understood their unusual requests for how they'd bring you to their abode, tactfully ignored the armored car and tinted windows and the near unnecessary amount of security upon arriving... but that was it. This was your only exposure to their so-called villainy — someone who'd been so kind to invite you to their home, and let you cry on their shoulder over a terrible grief.

And these so-called heroes were... hurting you, for that.

"Red," calls a voice from the doorway. Your head snaps up despite the hurt at the sound of it, at the heavy thud of their footsteps against the tiled floor. You don't need them to step into the light to know who they are, but they do, looming over you and a snarling Red. "Stand down."

"Fuck you, Blue," Red pushes you away from them, whirling on their companion and jabbing a bloodied finger into their chest. "This was your idea in the first place!"

"I know." Blue steps around them to stare you down, and you see their head move as they look you over, taking in your pathetic form. Your skin crawls with betrayal and fear, your hurt multiplying at the news that it was them — not Red, nor Yellow — who decided to treat you this way.

"But you don't know when to change tactics, Red," Blue says coldly, kneeling down to meet your eyes. "I do. And I know we're not going to get anywhere if we don't use the best weapon we have against them." Oh God. Your body starts to shake, your eyes squeezing shut in preparation for anything they might throw at you. A superpower? A knife? A syringe? A hostage that they'll threaten unless you talk? Your mind scrambles to think of who they could have possibly taken when Blue's voice cuts through your panic, sharper than any blade they could have taken to you.

"Villain was responsible for the building collapse that killed your cousin. They killed Journalist. Along with hundreds of others. That's the kind of person you're protecting."

"I'm not protecting them..." you whisper, tears spilling out of your eyes from shock. You strain against your bindings, not caring about how raw your wrists are. "I don't — know a-anything, I don't know! I've said that! W-Why are you doing this?"

"Alright," Green says suddenly, stepping forward now to pull Blue away. "Alright, that's enough. Think of what Vi's going to say to this —"

"Justifiable restraint of a rumored enemy to the state," Blue rattles off, yanking themselves out of Green's grasp. There's nothing save for your sobs, your mind trying and failing to wrap itself around the idea of someone you thought you knew so well, someone you'd been through so much with, causing so much harm to others. You and Villain had never had the easiest lives, but... you'd vowed to fight that hurt, to end that cycle. What had happened to them while they were gone...?

"F-Fine..." you choke out. Guilt surges through you at the thought of even remotely betraying your old friend, but Red's started to advance again and if Villain is really the person the League says they are... then even you can't justify letting them go on. "I-I was just a childhood friend. That's it. But i-if you stop, I'll talk. Just — stop, stop this, please."

"And what use is that information going to be to us..." Yellow speaks up for the first time all evening, only for Blue to cut them off with a raised hand. You can hear the smile in their voice when they address you again, and it makes you nauseous.

"I knew you would cooperate," Blue says, their voice suddenly, sickeningly kind. "Tell us everything you know."

[syncope-syndrome]

Every Medical Site Out There: Losing consciousness from blood loss is a symptom of hemorrhagic shock and a sign of loss equaling 40% volume, and when your body reaches that point it’s extremely difficult to save a person from death as organs are beginning to fail, including the heart.

Me, whose favorite part of whump is fainting: So what if I just… ignored that.