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shady-tavern · 9 months

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A Dash of Villainy within a Hero, Part One

Some warning ahead for attempted kidnapping, non-con drug use (not on the main character) and attempted murder, as well as being stuck under a collapsed building in the beginning, please take care of yourselves.

Edit because I'm a forgetful gremlin: This story was inspired by one of the prompts @entrophiceffects sent in. Thank you for that!

***

In all honesty, being stuck under a collapsed building with a villain was rather high on your 'would like to avoid' list, though it was just a tick above 'being stuck under a building alone'. At least you had your mandated mask with you to avoid breathing in anything bad.

Sadly, you weren't stuck with a two-bit villain or a newbie or someone you could have brushed aside. Instead, you were forced to try and keep your distance – as much as the small space allowed – to Madness.

Madness was a very dangerous, very high profile villain. The sort of villain that came with a file big enough to commit murder with. The sort of villain no hero was supposed to take on alone.

You stared at him as he shifted restlessly, the pocket the two of you were in just big enough for him to stand up. Neither of you dared to move much though, and you had to admit you had never seen the villain as tense as he was now.

Madness had never once bothered with a mask or helmet like other villains and heroes. He had always blatantly displayed his face, though no one had been able to find out anything about him either. Not his name or place of birth, not even a damn picture anywhere in any records.

If he ever went shopping he did so without being seen.

His face, right now, was a rigid grimace of badly suppressed fear and you had no idea if he had some sort of claustrophobia or if he was scared of the building collapsing the rest of the way. Which, fair enough.

The only reason you weren't visibly freaking out yourself was that your best friend was right outside. Song was guaranteed to have left to go get help, which meant you just had to avoid doing anything that would disrupt the fragile stillness of the space around you.

You just had sit tight and wait and not think about the building that could finish collapsing at any moment. Deep down, you hoped it would at least be a fast death.

So you hid your shaking hands by pressing them against your slightly trembling thighs and you forced your breathing to remain slow and steady despite your fearfully pounding heart. The way The Defenders taught all their heroes to handle themselves if they were ever stuck somewhere dangerous and had to wait for help.

It was weird, though. The building would have never crumbled had your fellow hero Quake not misaimed his powers. Which was strange, like all heroes Quake had gotten thoroughly trained by The Defenders to ensure he had his powers perfectly under control. They were meant to rescue civilians after all, not endanger them. Or each other.

That Madness had gotten caught in the line of fire had been...unfortunate, to put it mildly. Or maybe Quake had aimed for him in the first place and had just...what, overlooked you?

You had to admit that you didn't like Quake very much. He was clearly interested in your best bud Song and was trying to flirt with her. Song found him nice enough without being interested in more, but something about him rubbed you the wrong way.

Or maybe you were just a bit of a jealous twat, since he never wanted you around whenever he talked to your best friend.

"Sit down," you said after watching Madness twitch again. "Take a deep breath."

Madness' gaze snapped to you, sharp and dangerous as always. "What, are you worried I'm going to do something inadvisable?" Ho boy, he was high strung. Not that you could blame him.

The truth was, you didn't really worry about him lashing out. While you had absolutely no defenses against Madness' powers – barely anyone did – you actually had the upper hand in the current situation.

If Madness made you go, well, mad, you were liable to disrupt the space around you and kill the both of you by making this pocket cave in. You, on the other hand, only needed one touch and he'd be out like a light.

"I'm not worried about you," you said, trying to aim for reassuring and ending up sounding just a little tense and annoyed instead.

It was hard to sound nice and sweet and calming while being stuck under tones of concrete and steel and glass and wood. Besides, this was a man who had left plenty of your colleagues recovering from severe injuries. You weren't really interested in being nice to him of all people.

Madness raised a brow and studied you for a second, seemingly distracted from his intense tension for a moment. "Curious. I would have thought you heroes would pick fights no matter what. Even when it's ill advised."

You frowned at him. "Says the man who messes with anyone's head." Just this morning, before this entire awful situation, he had brought his powers down on an entire street, causing mindless panic and mayhem among civilians.

"Temporarily," he said with a careless shrug. "Oh, don't look at me like that. It's not like they'll remember the nightmares I put into their heads once they snap out of it."

While that was true, people never remembered why they had screamed their heads off and ran away in a blind panic, they still got hurt. Madness might not break minds, but he certainly caused his fare share of broken bodies.

It was nothing but dumb luck that people hadn't yet run into traffic in their mad, uncontrollable fear and desperation. Either that or he was calculating enough that the chance of such injury was low. Low but never impossible.

"But people do get hurt," you pointed out.

Madness smiled and it looked more like a baring of teeth. "Isn't that what heroes are for," he said sarcastically. "Saving all these innocents."

Dark anger sparked to life like the sudden fall of a hammer onto hot iron. It spread sharp and fast and you had always been bad at holding back when someone pissed you off. Song was always the one to either intervene or soften you back down from the jagged edges that rose to coat your tongue whenever you got furious.

"I don't want to always be saving people," you snapped out and for just a brief second Madness looked surprised and taken aback. "I don't want to clean up your messes just because you decided to be an asshole."

"Then why be a hero?" Madness asked, shifting to adjust his stance, the tension in his body ramping up. He was ready for a fight. "If you don't care."

"I do care," you answered with growing anger, words hard and fast, like an animal snapping its teeth. "But don't you dare push the responsibility of your actions onto me."

You were ready to act yourself, as stupid as it was to fight here, but the anger bit deeper and sharper, spilling out all the words you wished you could say when days were dark and grim. When villains gloated and blamed and gaslit and did anything but take responsibility.

When Song didn't get out of bed, fighting with lingering pain after a villain had shattered both her legs and it had taken both multiple surgeries and heroes with healing powers to get her walking again. When you wanted to shout at people to stop being at each other's throat. To stop making their quarrels your problem by targeting innocents.

A muscle in Madness' jaw ticked and his pale violet eyes became a dark lavender, his power suddenly heavy and cloying in the air.

"And yet you heroes insist on carrying the world on your shoulders," he sneered, voice growing low with his own anger. "You meddling, self-righteous pricks. Maybe you should have thought about what you are actually capable of before you took up the mantle."

"And you don't get to be a piece of shit and walk away saying 'oh, but I only was shitty because you didn't stop me'." You even ended up doing a mock-low voice as you snarled back at him, your voice coming out with an intensity you had only ever been capable of in emergencies.

Madness lifted his chin, looking ready to throw hands, when there was the grind of concrete and both of you fell silent, nervously watching the ceiling. He coughed as some more dust rained down between the cracks, grimacing at whatever taste was coating his tongue.

You had a spare mask, every hero did, but you didn't particularly want to hand it over. Not to him, not to this asshole. But Song would.

Taking a deep breath that came out more like an aggravated sigh, you grudgingly reached into your back pocket and pulled out the spare mask.

You knew Song would have offered it to Madness right away, but she was always the better one between the two of you. There was a reason why she was your anchor and lodestone. Your compass when your mind grew dark and your heart wavered. When you felt like you couldn't trust yourself to keep doing the good thing.

When, for once, you wanted to pay back every inch or hurt you and your friend had to endure. When you wanted to take your pound of flesh from the villains, instead of having it ripped from your mind and body by them.

You would never agree with others that being a hero meant sacrificing, meant burdening yourself and living only to rescue and protect others. And you would most certainly never bend and concede to villains.

"Here," you tossed the mask at Madness, who caught it with the sort of startled expression that told you he had expected something dangerous. You didn't bother hiding the way you rolled your eyes. "Now sit down and play tic-tac-toe with me, asshole."

"What." It came out flat, but he did put the mask on and once you folded your legs to sit cross-legged, he ever so slowly did the same.

You drew a little grid into the dust and after an incredulous look, Madness caved. It became obvious very quickly that both of you were competitive assholes and you upgraded from tic-tac-toe to checkers with little pebbles and at last chess.

You were shoddy at chess though and no challenge, so you went back to checkers. You were on your tenth round when there was a rumble in the air. You easily recognized the sort of shift in gravity and density that heralded telekinetic powers and you breathed a sigh of relief. Help had come.

At the same time, there was a dull whirring sound from below. A moment later, the ground shifted beside Madness and very slowly and very carefully, a little robot dug its way out.

"Found you!" the robot exclaimed with a voice you could identify easily enough as Doctor's. Huh, you hadn't known the two villains were allies. "Come on, let's get out of here."

"Is that safe?" Madness asked and the robot made a little pffft noise, already burrowing back into the hole. It was frighteningly fast in widening it far enough for a person of Madness' stature to squeeze through like a worm.

"I'll drag you," the robot said cheerfully, small arms extending to grab Madness around the collar. "Let's go!"

"Bye," Madness managed to say as he was pulled into the hole. Just in time as well, for the rubble shifted, power humming in the air, creating an opening for you to duck through.

You hurriedly left the space behind and the second you emerged from that little pocket, strong arms wound around you, crushing you against a soft chest and tough armor, while big wings wrapped around you.

"Hey, Nightingale," you said quietly into her shoulder, hugging her back just as tightly, breathing a sigh of relief. Your voice came out trembling, "Knew you'd get me out."

"Always," she answered and hid you with her wings until all the repressed fear and worry and tension shivered out of you. Since she didn't usher you into an alley or anything of the sort for privacy, no one was around to ask why the two of you were hugging for such a long time.

When at last you pulled back, she asked, "What happened to Madness? Did he hurt you?"

"No, he got away," you said, which was true enough. You cast her a look that told her you'd tell her everything later and she threw an arm over your shoulders, one of her wings coming up to curl around you.

Her wings were beautifully big, arching over her head and each one was easily as large as she was. She always kept them tight to her spine when she was walking outside, to avoid the ends trailing in the dirt. That was why the two of you kept your shared apartment very clean so she could relax at home at least.

She led you out from the rubble sheltered corner and you saw that only one other hero was around. Gravitos, who must have been the one to dig you out. She was on her phone, talking to The Defenders, you'd guess, saying that no one else was in the area and that crews could arrive to clean up and clear the street.

"You good?" she asked and when you nodded, offered a small smile. "I'm glad. Man, but Quake is lucky the building was closed for renovations. Otherwise we'd have a lot of deaths on our hands."

Which would most likely cost Quake his Defender contract and official hero license. You still had no idea if he had planned to hit the building like that, but either way, the way he had used his powers had been negligent at best.

Gravitos accompanied you back to The Defenders headquarter, the large hero hiring company where pretty much everyone was under contract. It was for the best really, the company protected heroes from lawsuits – unless it was proven they acted maliciously – and offered all the gear, gadgets and medical care they needed.

After a quick check-in in the med bay and debrief with your superior, you were ready to get out of costume and go home. Song didn't leave your side, staying close enough that you felt the brush of her wing every so often. It was reassuring and calming.

If she strayed too far, you suddenly felt the weight of the building around you and you felt fear seize your heart again. You just wanted to go home, where no one would look at you. No one would stare and judge and you could sit outside. Maybe even sleep outside tonight.

"Nightingale!" Quake's voice made the two of you pause and you felt a fissure of irritated tension wrapping around your spine. Quake was friendly and, well, fine, but something about him irked you endlessly. Aside from burying you under ruble, that was.

He offered Song a charming, hopeful smile and while you would never hold her back from a date, she wasn't interested and you hoped he'd get the memo one of these days. Besides, he had once said that he found it weird that you two were such good friends.

'It's almost like you're more than that,' he had once said. As if friendships couldn't be just as meaningful as romantic relationships.

Song was your family and she had been your best friend since her first day in middle school. After moving to the city and being the pretty, tall, winged new girl, she could have had any friend she wanted, but the second she had seen you being bullied, she had taken your side.

You still vividly remembered the large wings, arching to shield you and force your bullies to back up or get whacked in the head, feathers fluffing to make her look even bigger.

No one had ever stood up for you, but here she was, defending you with unyielding ferocity. She had remained at your side afterwards, one wing always slightly extended and for the first time, you didn't have to worry about anyone tossing anything at your back.

And there she had stayed throughout the day and there she had been the next day and before you had known it, you had your first proper friend since kindergarten. Elementary school had been fine, but you hadn't really clicked with any of the kids there and middle school had swiftly become your waking nightmare.

Until Song and her steadfast loyalty and fierce friendship. The two of you had stuck together through anything and everything and you were a package deal. Both of you had made sure to haggle for team contracts when The Defenders had hired you.

Besides, while Song was fast and strong, her true power laid in her voice. She was one of the few who could go up against Madness' abilities, but she needed a little bit of time for her voice to unfold fully.

Which was where you came in. You were fast and maybe you were a bit vicious and mean when it came to villains. You ensured nothing and no one interrupted her, that she wouldn't have to worry about protecting her own back.

Besides, if people focused on Song, they forgot to focus on you and you had possibly smirked a bit too much when you had taken those folks out. It wasn't your fault they forgot that, while Song could sing an entire street asleep, you needed but a touch to knock people out or leave them unable to fight with your electricity.

One of Song's wings arched to settle around you again as she stared down Quake. "Sorry, Quake, we're on our way out. Besides, I think you owe my friend an apology."

He suddenly looked chagrinned and bashful. "Sorry," he muttered at you. You couldn't help but think that he didn't really mean it. Then again, you were too tired to go and pick a fight, so you just hummed something that could be vaguely interpreted as acceptance.

Quake immediately turned back to Song. "I just wanted to ask if you'd like to meet up later."

So he was finally asking her out directly. It was a surprise that he had waited that long, considering is somewhat brash personality, but maybe he was just a little shy when it came to romance. Or Song intimidated him, she could be just as brash in return after all.

"Sorry, no," Song said, wing settling more firmly around you, surrounding you in warmth and softness and the familiar scent of fresh air and sunshine.

"The weekend, then?" Quake asked hopefully and Song shook her head, not even pretending to think about it. You almost felt bad for him. Almost.

"No, thank you," she said more firmly and you saw his smile flicker, before he shrugged, pretending to be unaffected.

"You know where to find me if you change your mind," he said and quickly stepped back, leaving with a wave.

Song gently pushed you onward with her wing. "I was hoping he'd give up on his own. Come on, let's go home."

Song ordered some takeout on the way home, which arrived a couple of minutes after you finally were back in your cozy apartment. It was bigger than most people would consider necessary for two people, but Song's wings needed space and you didn't want her to feel cramped.

Besides, a hero's salary at your level was nothing to sneeze at, so you might as well get a place where you both could stretch out and be comfortable.

You spent the evening on the couch with her, sheltered under a big, warm wing and your comfort movies playing on TV one after another.

"Madness was stuck with me," you ended up mumbling as, at last, you felt your exhaustion catch up with you. "He was an asshole."

"No surprise there," Song said and you slumped a bit more against her side, your head on her shoulder. "How did he get out?"

"Doctor came for him," you murmured, eyes falling shut. "Didn't know they got along."

If she answered, you didn't hear her as you swiftly fell asleep. You did have nightmares, but every time you woke up, gasping for air and terrified to see a building crumbled above you with the heavy weight of impending death, there were soft, warm wings.

You clung to the feathers and slowly calmed back down. Song wasn't holding you, but she was close and snoring softly, both wings wrapped loosely around you. They'd be sore in the morning, but you felt helplessly glad that she was here. Keeping you safe in whatever ways she could.

*.*.*

Quake, while having gotten the message that Song wasn't interested, now seemed intent to at least be Song's friend.

Just hers, though, not yours.

You only realized what Quake was successfully trying to do when you started to back off the moment he showed up, giving them space to chat. It was clear he didn't much like you. Song started to frown a little whenever she noticed you leaving, a wing getting extended as an invitation for you to stay.

Frowning to yourself, you wondered if you were too clingy. It wasn't like you spent every day, all day with Song, but you were a team out in the field, which was perfectly normal. There were other duos or even trios or bigger teams that never switched their members out.

"Hey," Song approached you just as you got ready to clock out and head home a month after the collapsed building incident. "Would you mind waiting? Quake said there is a problem with some of the ceiling panels in the training room. Two fell down and one nearly nailed a training newbie in the head."

She pointedly flexed her wings. "I'll take a look and check if any others are liable to fall, so the training hall can still be used until someone can come in to fix them."

You would have waited for her any other day, but the two of you were low on groceries and depending on how long this took her, the stores might be closed by the time you went home. "I'll head out first and get our fridge stocked back up," you said. "Anything you want for dinner?"

She perked up at that since she hated cooking, but you loved it. "Anything you want. Your food is amazing." Your friend had let you know more than once that she would fully support you if you wanted to switch careers from heroism to being a chef.

"This shouldn't take me too long, hopefully," she said and with a brush of the tip of her flight feathers against your shoulder, she was gone.

You left swiftly and you were already two streets away from the hero headquarters, when you realized you had left your phone in the locker room. Groaning, you turned around and trudged back towards the building.

Instead of taking the main doors and dealing with people you took a side entrance, swiping your card to be let in. The side entrance was usually reserved for people who wanted to avoid attention, especially paparazzi attention.

Quietly slipping through the hallways, you took some backdoors and an old staircase to avoid running into any of your colleagues. You just wanted to dip in, grab your phone and get out without anyone stopping you along the way.

There were plenty of heroes who didn't hesitate to ask others for help with their paperwork. You could freely admit that most of your colleagues sucked at the whole bureaucracy part of the job.

There were always a couple of heroes stuck in their offices after hours, despairing over documents. Everyone who was done for the day or, god forbid, was actually good at paperwork, learned to get out of dodge fast.

Your quiet path brought you past the communication room and you tip-toed to avoid distracting the people inside accepting calls and alerting heroes about any disturbances or attacks that needed dealing with.

"Dispatching Quake and Nightingale," you overheard a voice say and you paused. "They are taking care of a minor disturbance."

Your nose wrinkled, feeling sorry for Song. That's what happened to anyone who didn't clock out in time. Though, in all fairness, if there was an emergency or a all-hands-on-deck situation, then everyone was called in, no matter what.

You snuck away, lest these guys noticed you and thought you could be dispatched too. You'd make sure to prepare a big dinner for your friend once she came home. You reached the locker room and got your phone without running into a single soul.

You were sneaking down the hall again to leave when you heard a heavy thump and grunt. One of the doors to a small break room was tossed open a moment later.

"Fuck, didn't know she'd be that heavy," a too familiar voice hissed. Quake. Pausing, you frowned and a bad feeling unfolded its wings in your gut. The same bad feeling that had helped you avoid villain attacks in the past. The sort of sixth sense pretty much every hero developed pretty early on.

Shouldn't Quake be heading out? Furthermore, shouldn't Song be with him?

You ducked closer to the wall, just as Quake stepped through the door backwards – dragging your unconscious friend with him. He was grunting and struggling, a wing catching in the doorframe and your heart leapt into your throat. You were moving without much thought and before he could notice you.

All it took was a charged touch to the back of his neck and he went limp, slumping down silently. You caught him and winced as Song fell from his limp arms.

"What the fuck," you whispered, hoisting him over your shoulder to deposit him off to the side. You were quickly checking Song, finding her breathing and heart rate steady. A glance into the room showed two glasses on a side-table, one empty the other mostly full.

Had...had Quake laced her drink? No, surely not. He was a hero. Then again...being a hero didn't mean people couldn't be massive pieces of shit. There had been scandals in the past, after all.

You heard more steps approach from the old, rarely used staircase and you were about to shout for help, when you heard a voice speak up, "He should have waited until she agreed to let him give her a lift home and he had her in his car. How are we supposed to get her to the underground garage with those fucking wings?"

What the fuck was going on here?

You hoisted Song up and back through the door just in time to close it as people rounded the corner.

"Song? Come on, wake up," you hissed, lightly zapping her, but she didn't react. Shit, she really was drugged.

You stared down at your best friend and realized that you had no way of dragging her away before that door got opened by the people outside. Song was heavy, for one. You only came up to her shoulder and she was muscular from long hours of training and flying and her wings were heavy too.

Each wing was as big as she was after all, and right now they were slumped, lying half open. Just alone getting her through a door would take minutes.

Of course you had trained until you were strong enough to drag her anywhere in an emergency and you knew how to deal with her wings when they were flopping all over the place, but that didn't mean it was a particularly fast process.

Mind made up, you swiftly laid her down her beside the door and hid on the other side. The door opened, swinging in your direction and you had ducked around it and had gotten your hands on the two newcomers before they could spot you or call out.

They thudded to the ground and you stared down at two people you had never seen before. They were not fellow heroes.

Pulling them fully inside and ducking outside to get Quake, you left them tied up and muzzled. They'd be out for a bit, but it was better to be safe than sorry. Rooting through their pockets, you found no ID, but a general keycard for the Defenders building, along with a phone on Quake.

Pocketing that, you went back to Song, gripping her and dragging her outside. You were covered in sweat by the time you managed to, ever so carefully, pull her down the stairs and past the communication hub.

You got Song all the way outside the building and into an alley unnoticed, panting heavily. Your first instinct was to bring her home, but...what was going on here? What if your home wasn't safe anymore? Hissing a curse, you pulled out the phone you had nicked from Quake and opened it.

The instructions you found on it were chilling.

Quake had tried to kill you when he had collapsed a building onto you. Quake was to isolate Nightingale if he didn't succeed in killing you, drug her and contact this number once she was down for the count.

Quake had done so, which was when the communication center had gotten the message that they were sent out to deal with a problem. Communications never questioned orders if they came from high up, but only then.

Nightingale was to be handed over and this device destroyed. Quake was to head to the spot where the fake mission was supposed to take place and plant all the necessary evidence, as well as blow enough things sky high, that people believed Nightingale had died.

That they had run into a new, too powerful villain unexpectedly.

It was recommended to kill you first if possible, so no one would question the story. So no one would look into it any further.

You stared at the phone in complete and utter disbelief. Your mind was blank and still for a long second, then something ugly and panicked rose. Something angry.

You pulled out your own phone, snapping pictures of the conversation, of the instructions, before closing your fingers around the burner phone and frying it so viciously it started to catch fire. Dropping it to the ground, you hoisted Song up again and started dragging her further.

You could not return home, but that didn't mean there weren't other spots you could hunker down in. You hotwired a car in a camera-free zone two streets from the headquarters and stuffed Song in, wincing at the cramped space for her wings. There was a reason she had never bothered with getting a license.

By the time you had Song safely in a little hiding spot the two of you had scouted out a year ago, you were exhausted and your mind had run over everything at least a million times. You watched her closely for any signs that something would go wrong as she laid on her side, wings a bit awkwardly draped.

Something was going on here. Something big and bad and it itched at you to go back and find out more. To question Quake.

When Song stirred, you felt ready to sag in relief and maybe cry a little, but instead the anger amped up a bit. When her eyes peeled open, you were perhaps crackling a little, so charged with electricity that you didn't dare touch her.

"What?" Song slurred and you leaned into her view, her tense expression immediately easing with visible relief.

"Take it easy," you said when she slowly managed to sit up, shifting her wings and nearly knocking one into you. Then her eyes widened and you saw the moment memory flooded back. Her gaze snapped up to you, alarmed and horrified and confused and you pressed your lips together grimly for a moment.

"I think something very bad is going on, Song."

*.*.*

See, most people probably wouldn't go straight back to The Defenders headquarters, but neither Song or you were normal. No hero was, you had all lost your sense for normal levels of danger long ago.

Song was landing on the roof, gliding down the last bit to make the descend silent and smooth. She knew exactly which part of the roof was a camera dead zone.

"Be careful," she whispered, reluctantly pulling back. Song was great at an amazing number of things and you loved her for that, but her wings were not made for sneaking around. She was just too big. "I'll stay close by, so don't hesitate to jump out of a window if necessary."

In case someone caught you, she didn't say. You squeezed her arms before stepping back and she took flight again, while you zapped the keycard pad at the door, carefully controlled, which caused it to swing open.

You were so glad you had trained and trained a stupid amount of hours to be able to do that.

The good part was, accessing the building from the roof meant you were closest to the offices of the higher ups. And someone there had to be involved, in order to inform communications about sending heroes out without consulting them first.

Imagine your surprise, therefore, when you slipped through the door into an ostentatious hallway and you saw a very familiar person skulking about. You had no idea how Madness of all people had made it into the hero headquarters, but he was either going to be a problem or...perhaps you could work together.

Just this once and no more, he was an asshole after all.

He was distracted enough that you actually managed to sneak up to him and when he did notice, you were close enough to press a hand to his back. A silent warning, to keep his powers well away from you. Considering the way he tensed all of a sudden, his muscles flexing beneath your palm, he got the message.

"Not sounding the alarm, hero?" he sneered down at you and you realized belatedly that the moment you'd open your mouth, he'd know exactly who you were. ...well, you had already dug your grave, hadn't you?

"Tic-tac-toe," you ended up whispering back, watching his eyes widen briefly. "You don't fuck me over, I don't fuck you over, deal?"

He paused, frowning, "Why are you sneaking around in your own place of work?"

You smiled grimly. "I guess that happens when someone tries to kidnap my friend from the inside."

He stilled, his head tipping slightly to the side and it became impossible to read his face. You could only tell he was thinking rapidly from the way his gaze was flickering between your eyes.

"Alright," he conceded and you cautiously, carefully, removed your hand. His eyes remained pale though, which was a relief. Then again, if he made you go mad, he'd just blow his own cover.

"Do you know if anyone's still here?" you asked and he actually stepped aside a bit to let you sidle up beside him. Which was so weird. You knew that sometimes villains and heroes worked together briefly, but you never had.

"No," Madness whispered back. "Everyone's home as far as I know."

"Then why are we whispering?" you asked quietly and he sent you a look like he thought you were daft. You rolled your eyes and straightened from your crouch beside the wall.

You knew where the cameras were in this building, because maybe you had been involved in a little prank war last year and you had memorized all the camera positions for the sole purpose of not getting caught.

Madness seemed to have decided to stick by you, for he followed you when you wove your way through the hallway, ducking into the first office. There were six in total, each double the size of your apartment, which was just ridiculous.

"Ugh, rich people," you found yourself muttering as you beelined for the desk and the computer.

The moment you sat down in the chair, Madness braced one hand on the backrest and leaned over to watch what you were doing. As the computer booted up, you reminded yourself to not be an asshole to the person willing to not rat you out.

"What are you looking for?" you asked as you were logged in. The higher ups had their passwords saved by default, it seemed. Either that or they were just lazy. And a little bit careless. "I'll help you look."

Madness was silent for a long moment, then he answered, "I'm looking for the Phoenix Project."

You had never heard of that, but you were willing to look. You found no information on either the project or Song on this computer, so you moved on to the next office.

You had to try all of the computers, before, on the very last one, you finally found something. There was one mail, exactly. It had been sent around the time Quake had contacted the person on the other end of the burner phone that he had Song drugged and ready for pickup.

And without Madness, you would have never discovered the mail. It was sent to an anonymous person, with only one sentence: 'The Phoenix has gained its wings.' Below it was the same time and place for pickup that had been on Quake's phone.

"Is that all?" Madness asked, still hushed. He sounded less than pleased. "Are you certain?" But his tone of voice said he knew this was it, he had looked over your shoulder the entire time after all.

"I think we may have to talk," you said quietly, mind whirring. There was something going on, something big. You leaned back a bit to look up at him. "What say you to a temporary truce?"

"Why?" Madness asked with an undertone of sharpness. His smile was unfriendly. "I thought you didn't like me."

You smiled back just as sharply and humorlessly. "I don't." Your mock-smile fell away. "But whatever you're looking into, they were trying to kidnap my friend and sell her as dead to the rest of the world. They tried to kill me too, back when that building collapsed, so no one would look for her."

Madness grew serious, the tense antagonism falling away. "And here I thought it was just my pretty head they wanted dead." He tipped his head again, peering down at you, weighing how honest you were. How willing he was to exchange information.

He stepped back. "Alright. Truce." He then smirked at you. "Let's see if your cute little hero heart can take the truth."

You wondered if it was too late to snap at his throat like an enraged woverine. "We'll see if your lying villain tongue is capable of telling the truth."

His eyes narrowed and you stared back at him, once again in a stalemate where you were close enough to knock him out before he could use his powers. You knew he was the more powerful one between the two of you, normally. That he could leave you a screaming, sobbing mess and you could do nothing about it.

But right now, you had an edge you wouldn't have otherwise.

"We'll just have to see, won't we," Madness muttered back.

The sudden clack of a door opening down the hall and voices filtering in made both of you flinch. You reached out to yank out the power cord of the computer, making it go dark.

Madness shifted beside you, looking ready to fight. "How do you plan to get us out of here?"

You tipped your head towards the window and smiled. "Afraid of heights?"

"Not in the slightest," he said, stepping back to let you stand up. He didn't look away from you and neither did you take your gaze off of him. "Why?"

You forced yourself to break eye contact and head to the window, yanking it open and hopping up onto the windowsill. You hesitated, then held out your hand.

"Are you willing to trust a hero?"

He stared at your hand, then glanced over his shoulder at the voices coming closer. It was impossible to overhear individual words, but it sounded like an argument. He looked back at you, his face impossible to read.

He didn't answer, just reached out to grasp your hand back. He allowed you to pull him close and it became a very squished situation, with both of you crouching on the windowsill. The ground was very, very far away. He was tense beside you, staring down, while you scanned the sky.

The voices in the hallway grew closer still and his tension ramped up. That was when you spotted Song ever so faintly and jumped, pulling him with you.

To his credit, he did not let go of your hand, not as you fell and not when Song swooped in to catch you, carrying you away into the night.

You were surprised that he had been willing to trust you at all and maybe, grudgingly, you respected him a bit for that. Still, you could admit that holding a villain's hand was definitely a first for you.

And, well. Maybe, just maybe, you weren't going to regret offering him a hand when it was all said and done.

Part Two

*.*.*

Tag List:

@those-damn-snippets @the-cash-cache @queenofbooknerds @14-lizards-in-a-trenchcoat @fern-writes-whump @bexterbaileyw @setsailforthestars @piperjistic @addrai @catloverlawyer @permanentlydepressedpigeon @tama-on-vetta @marateleam @transparentdiplomantlandgoth @cheesecakev2 @myst3rious-figur3 @warriorofbooks @aprilraine

#my writing #long story short #heroes and villains #pre relationship #superpowers #I hope this story turned out okay!#it was a lot of fun to write #so I hope someone has a lot of fun reading it!#this is a two-part story #we'll see where the road goes with these two #they both think the other is the asshole #song is just a ray of sunshine #ayo fair warning this is long again #but this is me we're talking about #so are any of you really surprised about that

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little-paper-ghost-child · 1 month

Text

GODS I SPENT TOO MUCH TIME ON THIS

Here’s the first song story I did

It’s shit because I like barely edited it but whatever it’s done and going out into the world

Tw for: murder, child abuse, strangulation, police (idk if I should add more but Weh)

This is the song

Please remember!!! This is not based off of the song specifically and is just what my brain came up with!!

Anyways here you go

Alex combed his fingers through his hair as he stared down at the photo album. He didn't know how George had gotten a hold of it and he figured it was something violent, but it was still a monster load of unwanted evidence and a hurt in his stomach that worsened as he flipped through the pages. He and Ivan never looked happy per say but everything had seemed so much brighter back then, back before he was alex at all. While he scratched out any mentions of demetri, ivan, or emily, Noticeably, Though he cautiously checked every page and pocket, there was no mention of his father.

He had separate reasons for all of them to be defaced, three separate reasons for three separate things.

Demitri was crossed out because he was dead, he was an idea of what could have been and he was lost. His mother had named him that, and he would not let her have that pride, so he had erased demitri as his quietest form of retaliation.

Emily was crossed out because the bitch didn't deserve to be remembered. She didn't deserve anything she had. And still somehow, she got everything she wanted from the children she hurt and there was never a consequence in the world for her. She was a violent disgusting person unfit to be a mother or a person at all and he hoped nobody had to know her ever again.

He crossed out Ivan for much less angry reasons than the other two, he wanted Ivan to be safe. his little brother. He loved Ivan more than the world itself and hated himself for leaving him.

“Coward” is what the voice in his head called him.

“ monster. Coward. You left him to die in her care.” it gnawed at him every second of everyday and he knew he couldn't go back now. Not while there was evidence still.

“Soon”, he thought.

“Soon is good.”

So Alex continued his work of scratching and defacing all three of the people for all three of his reasons..

It was difficult to do what he needed all the time and never what he wanted, he still felt trapped even out of that hellhole,it really felt like the only difference was that the blood being shed was supposed to mean something.

—

George caught him off guard with the blow to the side of the head and Alex went skittering across the concrete floor.

He felt like everything was underwater and everything was all wrong.

“The fuck?” was all he could manage to string together as he tried to push himself up.

“I've had a change in interest,” George said as he lumbered over.

“Somebody knows how to pay better”

It took longer than Alex liked to form a coherent enough thought to make sense of that.

“To kill me?” choked its way out of Alex's throat while he frantically searched his pockets for any sense of self defense. George twitched a little as he wound up for another hit but didn't answer the question. Alex got to his feet and just barely dodged the second punch, He was racking his brain for something he could use- there was no way he could stand a chance in a fistfight. Alex made it to the drawer in his desk and pulled it open scanning for something, anything that could be used and came back with a letter opener. He thought for a second on how he could use something so small, which hurt considering the previous hit to the side of his head that was definitely less than soft, but he figured something out in the end.

As the larger man approached Alex pretended he could hear his little brother cheering him on, telling him that he could do it, but it was a cruel thing to do because a child let alone a child like Ivan would cheer for something like this.

When George trew his third punch Alex used his smaller frame to an advantage and ducked behind him as quickly as possible.he only had a second to do this correctly and so much of him didn't want this.

“Murderer” said the voice in his head.

“You leave your little brother all alone and you murder the man who has been helping you.”

Alex took a breath for nearly a second, jumped, and planted the letter opener in George's neck.

He made a squeak, and promptly fell over onto the cold concrete.

He was frozen, then. he was locked in place staring down at the presumably dead man

That he had thought was his friend.

“It's not your friend if you have to pay it to care” he reminded himself and closed his eyes tight.

Why did it have to be so hard?

Why did stuff like this come up?

Why couldn't everything just be okay?

Alex wanted so badly for everything to be okay, but there was no way to obtain something like that. He wanted it more than anything in the world and he would never get it, and even when things finally seemed to work out, it always went to shit.

Why did it have to do that?

Why did it have to be so hard?

Why did stuff like this come up?

Why couldn't everything just be okay?

It hit him in a second that all the evidence was gone. All the evidence he could possibly get rid of was gone with George, if everything was gone, there was only one place he was supposed to go.

—

Alex got in his car after he had finished defacing anything that he had left remotely close to a normal keepsake. He left the body, he didn't care. He knew where he was going, he remembered being dragged back by walk or car every time he tried to run away. He could practically hear Emily screaming at him that she swore he was trying to get them in trouble.That he was a disgusting excuse for a child. That his father was waiting for him at home.he could never remember anything but angry flashes after that.

Even though he knew the way perfectly, it still took something out of him to get to the right streets. He figured he had a concussion but now was not the time to worry about that. There was that, and there was the voice in his head as well.

“Why would you go back when you are just going to hurt? Murderer murderer murderer.you left little brother all alone to kill your own father, and you couldn't even find him. Why would Ivan want to see you ever again? Not to mention Emily will be there too. Can you really face her? Maybe you want to see her, because for all of the shit maybe you are a mama's boy. You probably failed to protect your brother. You are failing to stay away. Maybe Emily will hurt you again, maybe you deserve it. You probably even liked it when-”

“Shut up”, Alex said aloud. “I hate her and I hate you.”

he looked in the rearview mirror for the last comment, glaring at himself like it would leak through into his thoughts and make them go away. He hated remembering, hated thinking about it at all, hated her voice echoing around his head, but things would never change so he did his best to push her out of his mind for now.

As he turned the corner, one side of the road opened down a lake miles below. Alex weighed the possibilities of anyone finding him if he drove off and into the water, but he had heard that drowning wasn't exactly as quick and easy enough to make it all that tempting.

—

Alex got out of the car before he turned the street corner. He had grabbed his gun from the car, and the voice inside his head bubbled up to hiss at him.

“A gun?” it said. “Murderers use guns. Monsters use guns. What do you think that makes you? What are you going to do with it anyway? You could end up hurting ivan.”

Alex shook his head as if to shake the voice right out of his head and shoved the gun into his belt.

“It was just in case,” he told himself.

“Just in case anything went badly like it always seemed to.”

Seeing down the street he grew up on hurt Alex more than he wanted to think about.

“No” he thought

“Dimitri grew up here.” was easier to think about but only by a little.

Nothing was easy here, it never had been and it never would be but he would take what comfort he could get, and if that was by remembering a dead dream then he would remember but not connect.

As Alex walked towards his inevitable destination he scanned the roads and felt like a little kid again, recounting things that had happened in certain places. There was a tree that dimitri was once sitting under when a branch fell off, there were the bushes where dimitri had been bitten by a stray dog who roamed around, from which alex still had a small scar. There was the spot on the road where the police had been called the first time- and the spot where they had been called the second. And finally, there was the house.

Walking down the driveway he could see the trash bags all up one side of the fence. Piles of empty bottles and cans were shoved under the rotting porch and as he walked down the driveway Alex could smell the house reeked of beer and mold and filth.

“This was a bad idea” said the thoughts in his head.

“Your brother doesn't want to see you anyway. And you know what emily will do when she finds you-”

Alex forcefully shoved that voice out of the way and stared at the door. From inside there was something that might have been a yell, and something glass breaking.

He couldn't stall any longer.

After a minute all too short to prepare himself, Alex opened the door and went in.

—

The smell was worse on the inside.

The carpet was dirty and the ground was littered with all sorts of things that couldn't be safe for walking on, which made him more so glad he had kept his shoes on. Now that he was inside he could see that the disarray of the place had only gotten worse after he left, which made sense considering most of the cleaning was done by Alex himself, but was still upsetting to see. As he moved through the house, he remembered a thousand awful little things. Pins under fingernails, the feel of uncooked, moldy fruits or vegetables in his mouth, little cockroaches and worms that made homes in the mess. He didn't like thinking about it, remembering it made him want to scratch at his skin, made him feel dirty.

Nothing in this house was nice, but nothing had gotten under his skin until he saw the whiskey on the counter.

It was half empty and there was a dirty glass set beside it. Alex gaged like he was trying to throw it up, but there was nothing to throw up. He hated the sight of it, hated the burn of it, he remembered crying, crying made it worse.

For every cry he let out she would always pour a little more into the cup, a little more, a little more, until he stopped crying, sometimes he threw up, sometimes he fell asleep, sometimes he couldn't remember.

Alex’s hand raised instinctively to his mouth.

“you are going to throw up oh no, oh god no you feel sick you are sick and everything is wrong, stop crying you're only going to make it worse it burns you are suffocating it burns it hurts you are going to be sick you are going to throw up-”

The crash of something glass and a strangled yell upstairs broke Alex out of his headspace, and his focus snapped to the staircase. Alex ran up the stairs and turned the corner so fast he almost fell over. He barely even thought as he ran to the one open door, and he barely even thought as he reached for his gun.

—

Emily Volkova had never been a good person. She only hurt and ruined and broke people and things and really anything she could get her hands on. And her own two children were things remarkably easy to get her hands on.

Ivan was on the ground, just barely struggling against Emily, who had her hands around his neck so tight it looked like she herself was straining. She was never particularly strong but she had the advantage of being a grown woman fighting against a nine year old boy, and the advantage that the nine year old boy she was fighting wanted nothing more than for her to love him.

Alex could see ivans mouth moving, trying to choke out words that were lost to his excuse of a mothers screaming. Alex could barely understand what he was saying, but he didn't need to. What he did know was that Emily volkova had never been a good person, and that he was going to make her stop.

The sound of the gun cocking might have been what had gotten her attention, or she had just happened to notice at the moment he was leveling it to her head.

“Demitri, why the fuck are you here?” she said, barely loosening her grip on ivan. Her shock turned to anger turned to vicious manipulation faster than Alex could keep up with.

“Did your little trip go well? you leave right after your father so i have to take care of this stupid fucking kid by myself, why would you leave your own mother?”

“Shut up” was all that Alex said. He had built up all this hatred for this woman in his head but being with her now, seeing her, he hated himself for being scared.

She put on a face like she was hurt before shoving Ivan to the ground and getting up.

“dont tell me to fucking shut up you little shit. You would really shoot your own mother too? In Front of your little brother, the world out there has ruined you demitri.”

She took a step towards Alex and he had to fight himself not to step back, shaking as he tried to hold the gun in place.

“Ivan, close your eyes and cover your ears” he said, trying to see around Emily to his brother, who moved slowly and shakily.

“That's it.” Emily said with a little more fear in her voice.

“Put the gun down, Demitri, you can't do this to your mother.”

“You were never my mother, I was never your son.” was all Alex said before he pulled the trigger.

—

Alex didn't like guns all that much because they were very loud and sometimes made big messes. He didn't like this situation much at all but he had to make sure that Ivan was okay, Alex could wait for later. As he moved his way into the room, he locked eyes with Ivan and felt a gut wrenching tear in his stomach. He could feel how hurt this little boy was. Then, he could see it. The bruises around his neck were to be expected, he had a black eye too. Ivan was covered in bruises, over his arms and legs that Alex could see. He seemed to have little cuts too, burns or razor slashes, cuts from kitchen knives or cut up soda cans might have been in the mix too. Some looked new, some looked old, more than a few looked infected.

“Oh god ivan.” Alex said involuntarily.

Ivan just stared, shaking, scared.

“I'm so sorry.” didn't get a response either.

So Alex sat with Ivan for a moment, a few more, what felt like an eternity, until Ivan reached and grabbed a hold of Alex's coat sleeve, then buried his face in Alex's shoulder. Alex held on like he was going to lose him again.

He never wanted to let go.

Ivan was cold and he was shaking, Alex could feel it radiating off of his body. He felt a pull of guilt, but he buried it, that's not what either of them needed right now.

“I'm going to take you away from here okay?” Alex told him.

“I'm going to make sure that nobody hurts you ever again.”

He scooped Ivan up and carried him slowly down the stairs, whispering gentle reassurances that he knew meant next to nothing.

He just wanted it to be okay,

He just wanted Ivan to be okay.

Alex hated that this gentleness felt like a lie after all that he’d done, but as long as Ivan could be alright again he would fake a whole world.

Quietly reaching the bottom of the stairs, Alex shifted his hold on Ivan to open the door. The doorknob was sticky under his fingers as he turned the knob, opening the door to the porch. From the porch you could see the whole yard, and you could see Domonik Volkov standing in the grass.

—

Ivan could feel his older brother tense, but the way he was positioned, he couldn't quite see.

“What is it?” he wanted to say, but words couldn't find their way to his mouth. A man's voice said something in a language he heard grown ups speak sometimes and Ivan tried to squirm to look, but Demitri held him too close. His older brother slowly, very slowly, walked off the porch to a bush and very carefully sat Ivan down on the dead grass.

“Stay here,” he said to ivan.

“Stay here, and don't look over there, and cover your ears, okay?”

Ivan nodded, and turned in the opposite direction of where he wasn't supposed to look.

Alex gave his hand a tight squeeze and got up.

Ivan tried his best to cover his ears but his wrists were weak and his hands shook so he opted for cradling his face between his bruised knees.

It wasn't good sound protection, he could still hear the two talking, arguing in the language that he didn't know.

There was a word he did know though,

“Monster.” Demitri kept saying.

“Something-something-monster.”

.It sounded so cold off of his brother's tongue that the sharpness felt like a whole different person entirely, sounded more like mother if Ivan had to place it, but he didn't like to place the two in the same category.

There were sirens too now, they started far away but they kept getting louder and louder, and so was the arguing. The sirens eventually stopped and flashy red and blue lights painted the grass around Ivan with a fractured looking glow, but the arguing still went on. Ivan tried to pretend that everything was okay, that somebody was just having a dance party with some nice, police coloured lights.

The argument sounded more frantic now, like they were running out of time to be mad at eachother.

Everything sounded scary, the flashing lights felt dizzying and the yelling was too loud even when ivan tried to cover his ears and then-

The gunshot made everything go dead silent. Ivan squeezed his eyes shut so tight that he saw little spots in his eyelids. Somebody started walking over to the bush and Ivan looked up in hope but it wasn't Demitri, it was somebody that Ivan presumed to be a police officer. The officer scooped Ivan up in his arms and carried him to the back of his car where he gave him a blanket and stale cookie.

Ivan looked out at what he could of the scene, dead grass,lots of blood, the man that must have been the angry voice that weirdly looked alot like his father with a big towel over his face, and then dmitri, being arrested.

The eye contact was short, the brief message that his older brother sent was a fierce look and a nod.a nod as they shoved him into the back of the police car, as Ivan got driven away too.

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