two beers in and actually for real irl sobbing about kim and the kineema its just like. kim cares so much about this damn car. but truly he cares so much about all the possessions he keeps, about machines in general, these finely tuned objects that can do so so much for humanity but rarely get recognized for it. do you think he empathizes with them? engines made to live and breathe revachol? he’d never admit it out loud how much he loves them, and especially not how much he hopes they love him back, but they do!!! he cares so deeply, takes such careful, meticulous care of the things he loves. maybe he loves them because they can’t tell him that they love him back. but then harry comes along, this strange, impossible man who talks to walls and ties and tells kim his kineema loves him. isn’t it the exact thing kim won’t let himself believe, because it’s too indulgent, too far fetched? that something he loves could love him? that the objects he cares for, that he puts so much effort into maintaining, could thank him for it?
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THIS HAPPENED IN MY DREAM— so you get part 2 tomorrow <333333
Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7
Bait
It was the first time Hero had ever actually felt raw fear. The pit that was gnawing a hole through their stomach was nerve-wracking and every second that past made their situation less and less bearable.
A blindfold was secured tightly around their eyes, a cloth gag shoved in their mouth and wrapped around the back of their head. Ropes dug painfully into their skin and around what Hero guessed was a large metal pole.
All of these measures keeping them quiet, tense and on edge.
They were sure that the soreness in their muscles wouldn’t be gone for a long time to come, not with the bruises that were sure to appear if their bonds weren’t loosened soon.
Everything was uncomfortable.
It must’ve been around an hour since they had woken up, a pounding in their skull explained that half of the story Hero was trying to piece together. They hoped that if their kidnappers showed up they could fill them in on the rest.
The thumping of footsteps sounded to their left and Hero’s head snapped towards the commotion. The creaking of floorboards and stairs sounded next, confident steps that strolled practically lazily into the room.
“Well would you look at that? Finally decided to join us in the land of the living, huh? Have a nice nap?”
Hero let out a muffled response as their captor made it to their side, chuckling at the crime-stopper’s attempt to speak.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
The hero listened intently, focusing on every movement they could pick up from their captor, using just their available senses.
They could hear them moving, circling, a soft brush of movement on their forearm made the hero flinch away violently. Only to provoke another chuckle from the other.
“Lighten up, will you? I’m not going to hurt you.”
Somehow, Hero found that very doubtful.
Without another word from their captor, the hero recognized the sound of a blade opening. Something quick—maybe a switchblade?
Before they felt it at back of their head and the crime-stopper braced for an attack, for the pain that was to come. But the sharp edge never broke skin, in the blink of an eye the hero’s blindfold had been cut away and their surroundings appeared in full force.
They were in a room, dark and dreary as ever, something that could maybe fit the description of an abandoned cellar? But the countless weapons and chains that decorated the walls made it seem less so.
“Like what you see?” Their captor asked, grinning down at them, knife still in hand. Hero recognized them now, they were a lower scale villain that prowled the city streets.
Mainly, they committed burglaries or break-ins, but in the big picture they were near the bottom of importance to the heroes. This, however. Kidnapping a hero? That was a bigger deal.
The villain did them the curtesy of untying their gag, holding both pieces of fabric in one hand and their blade in the other. The hero swallowed, it was dry and scratchy on their throat from how long the gag had been in their mouth, but they spoke nonetheless.
They needed answers.
“What do you want.” The hero rasped, wincing as they tore their throat up with a simple question.
The villain couldn’t help but laugh, moving back until they hit the large, human sized metal table in the middle of the room. Leather straps, for lack of a better word, shackles were attached to each end.
Hero didn’t even want to fathom what the drain on the floor beneath it was for.
It made them sick.
The criminal pushed themselves up on the table, using it as a simple seat. “I don’t want anything from you, sweetheart. I just need a bit of leverage to carry out my next plan.”
If the villain could grin any bigger, they did.
“I need you as bait.”
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