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wolfeyedwitch · 2 years

Note

Auction of evil for Bailey? Maybe an AU where SV tires of them and sells/rents them off to the highest (villainous) bidder

I liked these two together, so I combined them. Do I need more AUs for WBOH? No. Is that gonna stop me? Also no.

CW for non-con drugging/sedation, implied abuse

Masterlist

---

“I’m in position,” Zera said softly into their comm.

“Good,” came Elijah’s tinny voice. “Find out what it is they’re auctioning and get out. Just recon, nothing else.”

Zera tamped down on the anger welling up in them at that. He was right, after all. As much as Zera might want to help if someone was in danger, there were too many people here.

There were too many villains.

Iris had found the information about the auction with one of her programs. Zera couldn’t claim to understand what she had said when she explained it. Something about the dark web, VPNs, and honeypots? What Zera did understand was that she had found the coordinates, date, and time of an auction being planned. An auction to which all of the villains who could make it to the area were invited.

What she hadn’t found was information about what was being auctioned. All the heroes knew was that it had to be something big. Something dangerous. Potentially catastrophic if left in the wrong hands.

Zera was there to find out just what it was that had drawn so much attention.

“Got it,” they replied. “Find out what’s being auctioned, stay to see who buys it if it’s safe, then get out.”

“Exactly. Comms blackout starts now.”

With that, Zera’s earpiece went dead. They felt a shiver travel up their spine at the idea of being unable to reach their team. It was necessary—there were too many technopaths in the villain world for any comms to be safe in this situation—but they still hated it. They settled into their hiding spot in the rafters, making themself comfortable for the wait.

The seats in the old theater started filling up. Zera recognized many of them. Ice Queen, Black Fox, The Piper, Livewire, Miss Eerie… these weren’t just local small-time villains. Some of these were international supervillains.

What the hell was special enough to draw them all here!?

Finally, the lights in the hall dimmed and the chatter went silent. All eyes turned to the stage.

The figure who walked out wore an expensive tailored suit. The click of their dress shoes against the stage reverberated through the hall as they walked to the spotlight. The domino mask they wore was a decorative, lacy thing that wouldn’t have been out of place at a masquerade ball.

Slipknot gestured like they were embracing the gathered crowd, and the villains in attendance applauded.

“Welcome, welcome!” Slipknot greeted their audience. Their voice was amplified and played through speakers throughout the hall, giving the disconcerting impression that they were everywhere.

The hall quieted, and Slipknot continued. “Thank you all for coming. I promised you something special, and you won’t be disappointed.”

They clicked their fingers, and a second figure emerged from off-stage. This one lacked Slipknot’s refined poise. Their suit was meant for combat, not elegance; their mask was utilitarian, not decorative.

Poppet looked as out of place as a bloodstain on a wedding dress amidst the finery of the hall.

They reached Slipknot’s side and sank to their knees beside the supervillain, head bowed. Slipknot placed a hand on the back of their neck; Poppet didn’t so much as flinch.

What. The. Hell.

“As many of you know, I have been training a protege for the last few years,” Slipknot said. “My Poppet has come on in leaps and bounds in terms of their powers. Their telekinesis can be used for both brute force and finesse. For more detail, just look at the news.”

That got a chuckle from the audience.

“I am here to auction off one month of Poppet’s service. During that time, they will be yours to command as you see fit. They must be returned at the end of the month in the same condition they are now: all limbs attached and functioning.” Slipknot grinned at that.

Zera felt like they’d swallowed a stone. Poppet was their nemesis, sure, but that didn’t mean they deserved this. Hell, Zera almost enjoyed fighting the villain! They were smart and witty, something that Zera learned when getting to banter with them between blows. And lately, those blows had been barely connecting. The villain had been going easy on them for some reason. Zera hadn’t had so much as a nosebleed from fighting Poppet in the last month. And okay, yes, some of that was that Poppet had been suspiciously absent for the past few weeks, but the point still stood!

Poppet finally showed up, only for it to be here?

Slipknot was willing to sell their own apprentice? Like they were nothing more than a weapon, an object? A guard dog to be loaned and traded?

“The bidding starts at one million dollars,” Slipknot said.

Zera needed to get out of there. They needed to get back to their team, to report on this. To let everyone know just how ruthless Slipknot was.

But…

Wouldn’t it be useful to know just who bought Poppet’s services? That way they could make plans for what that villain might do. Maybe they could even rescue capture Poppet during that time. And Elijah had said they could stick around if they deemed it safe…

Their thoughts were cut off by a sharp sting in their neck, followed by a wave of coldness seeping out from that spot. They turned their head to see Viper, a villain specializing in poisons, standing a few meters away with a… blowgun?

They reached a hand—why was that so hard to do?—to their neck. Their fingers brushed against something, and they pulled it out.

A dart. She had hit them with a dart. A dart that had to have some kind of paralytic or sedative or something, because their body wasn’t responding correctly to their commands.

Viper touched a hand to her ear before speaking. “Yeah, caught them sniffing around just like you suspected. I’ll bring them down now.”

The next thing Zera knew, they were being manhandled. Time was acting funny, too fast and too slow at once, like molasses shot from a cannon. A blink later and they were dropped to the shiny wood floor of the stage.

“And as a bonus, I’ll include custody of the hero Foxfire to whoever wins the bid on Poppet,” Slipknot said smugly.

Zera’s eyelids were too heavy to stay open. The last thing they saw before they closed their eyes was Poppet, staring at them in horror from behind their mask.

---

Zera woke up with a scream stuck in their throat. Everything ached, a bone-deep pain that seemed to throb in time with their heartbeat.

“I’m sorry,” came a small voice.

Zera managed to turn their head to see the speaker.

It was Poppet. They were no longer in their suit, but rather civilian clothing. The change in outfit revealed dark bruises ringing their wrists and decorating their arms. Zera winced in sympathy.

“I’m so sorry,” Poppet said again.

---

Taglist:

@heathenville @nonbinary-disaster @kim-poce @whump-world @dolls-circus @pickleking8 @ghostfacepepper @cupcakes-and-pain @badluck990 @mylifeisonthebookshelf @pumpkin-spice-whump @deluxewhump @extemporary-whump @whumpwillow @multiple-characters1-acct @sunflower1000 @fleur-alise @equestrianwritingsstuff, @scp-1296 @livingforthewhump @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @suspicious-whumping-egg @kaiwewi @lelly-belly @neuro-whump @newbornwhumperfly @whumpthisway, @whumpcreations, @wicked-whump @heart4brains, @myhusbandsasemni @how-to-be-a-hero @kixngiggles @kurochan @whumpsday @extrabitterbrain @pattonvirglsanders @neverthelass @we-write-as-one @elrysdoesstuff @whumperflies-and-roses @ha-ha-one @whatwhumpcomments @ramadiiiisme @towerlesskey @emmanemanemm @pigeonwhumps

Special thank-you to everyone who helped me come up with villain names to round out the crowd!

#with bloody outstretched hands #auction of evil #au #bailey the villain #bailey aka poppet #zera the hero #zera aka foxfire #supervillain is a manipulative bastard #asks answered #bthb #auction of evil bthb #non-con drugging #sedation #forced sedation

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wolfeyedwitch · 1 year

Note

6. Dress them up in comfy clothing for Poppet/Bailey, please :)

Masterlist

Bailey looked at the open closet of the room they'd been given (and wasn't that just its own unbelievable kindness, that the heroes would give them a room rather than a cell) with a giddy mixture of awe, gratitude, and disbelief.

"You... you got all this for me?" they asked, voice thick with emotion as they trailed their hand over the soft fabrics.

The closet was filled, filled, with the softest, most comfortable clothing Bailey had ever seen. And all of it looked like things they'd choose to wear, even! There was a mix of feminine and masculine style clothes, and a hefty dose of pieces that could go either way. Soft cotton dresses hung next to sweatpants and t-shirts.

"I hope it's all okay," Foxfire said, sounding unsure. "I picked a lot of it out myself, so if it isn't your style, that's on me. You, um... you mentioned that your style of clothes was something Slipknot took from you. I wanted to... it's stupid, nevermind. Pull out whatever you don't like or doesn't fit and we can exchange it for something that works better, alright?"

Bailey turned to the hero, still holding a hoodie. "It isn't stupid. This is... Foxfire, this means so much. You— you did all this, just for me?"

The hero shrugged, like it didn't really matter, when this was easily the kindest and most thoughtful thing anyone had done for Bailey in years. They looked down, refusing to meet Bailey's gaze. It was hard to tell on their olive complexion, but Bailey thought Foxfire's cheeks were more pink than usual.

Were they... embarrassed?

Bailey didn't have the mental energy to figure out what that meant right at that moment. They tucked the information away for later review.

For now, they pulled on the hoodie. The fabric was the perfect weight and texture, soft and warm against their skin.

It was almost like a hug.

---

They're both oblivious bisexual disasters who think the other couldn't possibly be interested in them. And I desperately wanted to have Bailey get a proper hug from Zera, but the characters refused to cooperate. So for now, hoodie hug substitute it is.

Taglist:

@heathenville @nonbinary-disaster @kim-poce @whump-world @dolls-circus @pickleking8 @ghostfacepepper @cupcakes-and-pain @badluck990 @mylifeisonthebookshelf @pumpkin-spice-whump @deluxewhump @extemporary-whump @whumpwillow @multiple-characters1-acct @sunflower1000 @fleur-alise @equestrianwritingsstuff @scp-1296 @livingforthewhump @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @suspicious-whumping-egg @kaiwewi @lelly-belly @neuro-whump @newbornwhumperfly @whumpthisway @whumpcreations @wicked-whump @heart4brains @myhusbandsasemni @how-to-be-a-hero @kixngiggles @kurochan @whumpsday @extrabitterbrain @pattonvirglsanders @neverthelass @we-write-as-one @elrysdoesstuff @whumperflies-and-roses @ha-ha-one @whatwhumpcomments @ramadiiiisme @towerlesskey @emmanemanemm @pigeonwhumps @whumpycries

#with bloody outstretched hands #bailey the villain #bailey aka poppet #zera the hero #zera aka foxfire #ask game #asks answered #oblivious bisexual disasters zera and bailey #pre slash #hero x villain #getting there anyway

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wolfeyedwitch · 2 years

Text

Auction of Evil, Part 2

No. 1 A LITTLE OUT OF THE ORDINARY

Adverse Effects | Unconventional Restraints | "This wasn't supposed to happen"

Have some pining and miscommunication. (Also some medical inaccuracies. I tried, but I am not a doctor.)

CW: dissociation(ish?), Bailey's crappy headspace, offscreen non-con drugging, sedation, asphyxia/hypoxia, adverse drug reactions (more explanation in tags)

Masterlist

---

I am ice. I am stone. I feel nothing.

Bailey repeated the words to themself silently as Slipknot summoned them to the stage, bringing them to heel with a click of their fingers.

It was Bailey’s mantra now; it had been since… since it happened. By the time of the auction, Bailey was numb to their surroundings. The last thing that they had truly felt was Slipknot’s… displeasure, when they found out that Bailey had been holding back in their fights against Foxfire.

The punishment had been severe, but Bailey had become used to those by now. It seemed they couldn’t do anything right anymore; punishments were the norm rather than the exception. That hadn’t been the worst part.

The worst part was the collar.

It was slim. It sat beneath the neckline of their suit, not even disrupting their silhouette. It was still obtrusive enough for Bailey to feel it every time they swallowed.

A constant reminder of their new position.

If you’re going to act like a misbehaving dog, little poppet, then I’ll treat you like one.

Bailey’s hands shook at the remembered pain, the shocks licking up and down their nerves.

No. No, they weren’t going to think of that. They were stone.

Stone didn’t care that it had disappointed its mentor. Stone didn’t care that its mentor was determined to get “at least some use out of you, after all the work I put in”.

Stone didn’t care who it was sold to.

Nothing would break through Bailey’s self-imposed numbness. They would survive; nothing else mattered.

That certainty splintered when Viper brought Foxfire down to the stage, carelessly dropping them like so much baggage.

Bailey’s breath caught at the sight of the hero limp and unmoving. Were they…?

“And as a bonus, I’ll include custody of the hero Foxfire to whoever wins the bid on Poppet,” they heard Slipknot say.

Their breath came unstuck from their throat at the confirmation. Their The hero was alive. Foxfire was more valuable alive than dead.

For now.

Bailey ignored the sounds of Slipknot playing auctioneer above them. They focused solely on Foxfire.

The hero looked… well. Not good, because they were far too still and silent to be good. Foxfire’s personality was as bright and vivacious as the blue fire they named themself after, as the trails left by their own teleportation powers. Seeing them so quiet was unnerving, unnatural. But physically, they looked unharmed.

(Of course they were unharmed. Heroes weren’t like villains; they looked after their own. And anyway, to the heroes, Bailey’s disappearance wouldn’t have been something worthy of punishment anyway. It would have been worthy of praise. Bailey had no reason to be worried about their nemesis, even beyond the fact that they shouldn’t be worrying about their nemesis.)

Foxfire stared sleepily back at Bailey. Their hazel eyes, usually so bright and mischievous behind their dark mask, looked hazy and dull. They blinked once, twice, eyelids moving slower each time.

Then the eyes didn’t reopen.

Bailey bit back on their cry of alarm. Nothing good would come of the villains knowing they cared about the hero. At best, it would bring mockery. At worst?

At worst, Bailey would be painting a target on Foxfire’s back. The hero was already going to be sold to the same person as them. If their buyer knew about Bailey’s sympathies, they wouldn’t hesitate to use that as another way to force Bailey’s cooperation.

Bailey wouldn't be helping Foxfire that way. They needed to keep calm, and keep silent.

Foxfire was fine. Foxfire would continue to be fine. They were just unconscious, drugged with whatever concoction Viper had used.

It got harder and harder to convince themself of that as they watched Foxfire’s breaths become ever shallower.

When they could no longer see the hero’s chest rise and fall, Bailey couldn’t hold it in any longer. They had to say something.

“Slipknot, they’re not breathing,” Bailey said quietly.

The hand on Bailey’s neck tightened in a silent warning.

A warning that Bailey ignored.

“Slipknot, they’re not breathing,” Bailey repeated, louder this time.

Their collar activated. Every muscle in Bailey’s body went rigid as electricity coursed through them. Even after the collar deactivated, they still twitched and shook with the after-effects.

Slipknot wanted them silent, and was willing to enforce that behavior through whatever means necessary. If Bailey were smart, they’d shut up and do as they were supposed to.

If Bailey were smart, they never would have been in this situation to begin with.

“They’re not breathing!” Bailey shouted.

Foxfire’s lips were starting to turn blue as their body starved of oxygen. Whatever Viper had used, the hero was reacting poorly to it.

“You want to sell custody of a hero?” Bailey continued. “That’s gonna be hard to do if the hero is dead!”

They twisted in their mentor’s grip to look up at them, hoping to appeal to something, anything, that would make Slipknot listen.

A discontented rumble emerged from the gathered crowd.

Slipknot stared down at Bailey with amused disdain. When they spoke, it wasn’t amplified for the crowd to hear. These words were just for Bailey.

“You care about if they live or die, poppet?” Slipknot scoffed. “I knew you were weak, but this?”

Bailey just stared pleadingly at them, not daring to speak further.

Slipknot smiled at them, expression devoid of kindness. “You think this would make any difference to them? They're still a hero, little poppet. You know what they'd do to you."

Bailey swallowed hard and nodded. They did know. Captured villains didn’t last long in hero custody—only as long as it took for the heroes to get the information and satisfaction they wanted out of them. Bailey had seen the scars their teammates had from close calls and narrow escapes.

Bailey wouldn’t be thanked for their actions here. If Foxfire lived through this, they wouldn’t hesitate to capture Bailey. They would pay for their actions against the heroes, and the punishment would undoubtedly be worse after this. After they’d shown that they cared, revealed that vulnerability for any villain here to exploit.

Maybe it was selfish to want to make sure the hero they cared about admired would survive. Wanting to keep their the hero alive even knowing that Foxfire would be hurt. Would be hurt because of them, something they’d been trying so hard to avoid in their fights.

If that was selfish? Then Bailey was selfish.

“Please,” they said.

Slipknot raised an eyebrow, then shook their head. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” With that, they shoved Bailey forward.

Bailey collapsed to their hands and knees, but quickly recovered enough to crawl towards the unconscious hero. They stared down at Foxfire’s limp form, unsure of what to do.

Think, Bailey, think!

Okay. Foxfire wasn’t breathing. They needed oxygen. Bailey had oxygen, and they knew how to give rescue breaths.

They could do this. They would save Foxfire, no matter what repercussions it brought.

Bailey tilted the hero’s head back and pressed their mouth against Foxfire’s. Their cheeks heated as they remembered a scene they had imagined, where this same motion had happened for very different reasons. They ignored their embarrassment; they could blush about this later.

For now? Bailey kept going. They ignored how Slipknot resumed the auction; they tuned out the sound of villains bidding on them. All that mattered was Foxfire, and the terrible intimacy of breathing for another person.

---

Taglist:

@heathenville @nonbinary-disaster @kim-poce @whump-world @dolls-circus @pickleking8 @ghostfacepepper @cupcakes-and-pain @badluck990 @mylifeisonthebookshelf @pumpkin-spice-whump @deluxewhump @extemporary-whump @whumpwillow @multiple-characters1-acct @sunflower1000 @fleur-alise @equestrianwritingsstuff, @scp-1296 @livingforthewhump @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @suspicious-whumping-egg @kaiwewi @lelly-belly @neuro-whump @newbornwhumperfly @whumpthisway @whumpcreations @wicked-whump @heart4brains @myhusbandsasemni @how-to-be-a-hero @kixngiggles @kurochan @whumpsday @extrabitterbrain @pattonvirglsanders @neverthelass @we-write-as-one @elrysdoesstuff @whumperflies-and-roses @ha-ha-one @whatwhumpcomments @ramadiiiisme @towerlesskey @emmanemanemm @pigeonwhumps

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wolfeyedwitch · 2 years

Note

🙃 & ☺️ for Bailey?

Auction of Evil, Part 3

🙃 - Someone to share their suffering with

☺️ - Soft words of reassurance

Whumptober alt 3: Dazed and Confused

Have some Bailey and Zera bonding after being sold off in the auction of evil!

CW: miscommunications, discussion of using them as leverage for the other, Bailey's crappy headspace. I think that's it? Let me know if I missed anything, or if you'd like to be added to the taglist!

Masterlist

---

Zera’s head felt like a malfunctioning computer that someone was attempting percussive maintenance on: nothing worked, and everything hurt. The space behind their eyes throbbed, the hurt so big it seemed like it would push the orbs out of socket at any moment.

They closed their eyes and managed a weak groan.

“Wha…” They stopped, swallowed past the cotton-dry feeling in their mouth, and tried again. “Wha’ hap’nd?” they managed to slur out on this attempt.

Poppet stared at them, eyes filled with guilt and concern. “Don’t try to sit up, it’s just gonna make your headache worse,” they said. “Hang on, let me…”

They grabbed something by their side, then carefully scooted closer.

“Sorry, I know I’m probably the last person you want helping you,” they said softly. “But you need water, and right now you’d probably just spill it on your own.”

Zera hummed a little ‘it’s fine’ kind of noise, hoping that the point got across.

Poppet seemed to interpret the noise differently than Zera intended, because they sounded even more guilt-stricken when they spoke again.

“Yeah, sorry,” Poppet said. “I know. Villain, hero, nemeses. You have no reason to trust me. But I’m not trying to make this worse, I promise. I’m trying to help.”

Zera looked at them in confusion. The way they had to crane their head made Poppet appear upside-down in their field of vision. The thin skin beneath Poppet’s big blue eyes was stained a dark purple from lack of sleep, trauma, or both.

“Yeah,” they croaked out. “I believe you. ‘S fine.”

Poppet’s expression bloomed into something vulnerable, all wide eyes and raised eyebrows and slightly parted lips. It might have been disbelief, or incredulity, or maybe something like hope. Zera was in no state to interpret it.

The moment passed, and the villain looked down and away. “You need water,” they said. “Is it okay if I prop you up against my leg to make it easier?”

Zera rasped out a yeah, not willing to risk another nonverbal miscommunication.

Poppet gently maneuvered them so their head was propped against Poppet’s thigh. Then they lifted a cup of water to Zera’s lips, helping the hero take tiny sips at a time.

The water was lukewarm and tasted metallic. Zera was too thirsty to care. Slowly, their mouth stopped feeling like they tried to swallow a bag of cotton balls, and the ache in their head shrank enough to allow other thoughts to trickle in.

“Thanks,” Zera said.

Poppet shrugged and shifted uncomfortably. “It’s the least I can do.”

Zera didn’t know what to make of this. Poppet’s reactions, as well as the auction itself, didn’t make sense. They were missing something, some critical center piece of this puzzle that would make it all fit together properly.

For now, they didn’t even know enough to ask the right questions. Figuring out that particular mystery would have to wait.

“What happened?” they asked.

Poppet flinched. The movement was small, but Zera still noticed. Another puzzle piece to add to the pile.

“You, um,” Poppet started, then paused to bite their cheek. Finally they continued, “You were scoping out the auction, I’m guessing? And Viper found you, drugged you, brought you to the stage.”

“I remember that much,” Zera said wryly. “Slipknot said…”

Ugh, what was it? It was fuzzy, like the thoughts you have when trying to fall asleep. They frowned.

“They threw you in as a bonus lot, basically,” Poppet said quietly.

“Ugh,” Zera said with feeling. “Who bought us?”

Poppet bit their cheek again.

Zera twisted so they were facing their cellmate, rather than looking up at them. They couldn’t be sure they were reading the expression correctly upside down. But now that they were seeing it right-side up? Poppet looked… guilty.

“Poppet,” Zera said, trying their best to channel Elijah’s don’t-argue-with-me tone. “Who bought us?”

The villain’s expression collapsed in on itself. “I don’t know,” they admitted, tone barely above a whisper.

“You don’t know?!” Zera repeated incredulously. “How can you not know! Were you not paying attention to who was going to buy you!?”

This time, Poppet’s flinch was far less subtle. “I’m sorry,” they said. They sounded like they wanted to beg for mercy but knew it wouldn’t come.

Zera groaned and rubbed weakly at their eyes. Getting worked up wasn’t getting them answers; all it was doing was making their headache come back.

“No, I- ugh. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten mad,” Zera said. “I just… Can you help me understand? Please? It didn’t seem like they were planning to take you off-stage, so I’m just… confused.”

There was a long pause.

“You weren’t breathing,” Poppet said, like they were confessing a sin.

“What?”

“You… After they got you on-stage, after you passed out. I think you must have reacted badly? To Viper’s drugs? You stopped breathing. You were turning blue,” Poppet said.

Zera winced at the thought. They knew, from Maeve and their own studies, that breathing issues were a potential complication of sedation. They’d just never thought about that in terms of Viper’s poisons.

“Okay…” they said slowly, thinking it through. “But I don’t understand how that connects.”

Poppet looked like they were holding back tears at this point. They took a deep breath before speaking again. “I told Slipknot about it, but they didn’t, wouldn’t, do anything. They were, um. Not happy, that I interrupted them.”

Their fingers went to their throat. It made Zera notice something they hadn’t before: a slim metal band encircling the villain’s neck.

Was that a shock collar?

“They didn’t do anything, but…” Poppet sniffed hard. “They let me.”

“Let you what?” Zera asked, unsure that they really wanted to know the answer.

“Help you,” Poppet answered, sounding like they were admitting a crime rather than saying how they’d potentially saved Zera’s life. “I don’t know who bought us because I wasn’t paying attention to the bidders. I was paying more attention to making sure you got oxygen.”

Zera stared, incredulous, at Poppet for a long, tense moment. That was… Why was Poppet talking like this was a horrible mistake they’d made? Like Zera would be furious for it? They’d saved Zera’s life!

“Thank you,” they said, trying to put all their feelings into the simple words.

Poppet shook their head hard enough to give Zera a vicarious headache. “You don’t get it,” they said, angry and miserable in equal measure. “This isn’t— I fucked up, okay? That’s the whole reason I’m in this mess in the first place! This is my punishment, and now I’ve gone and dragged you into it too!”

Zera put a hand on their arm. “Woah, calm down. What do you mean?”

“I—” They cut off abruptly and looked away, biting their cheek hard. “I wasn’t fighting you hard enough. That’s why Slipknot organized the auction.”

Zera smiled. “I knew it. I’m good, but not that good.”

Poppet’s eyes flicked back to Zera, and they gave a little smile too. “You are good.” The smile disappeared as they continued. “But now? I really fucked up, Foxfire.”

“How?”

“I let an entire audience of villains know that I care about you,” they confessed. “That I care if you get hurt, if you live or die. That’s… This isn’t a good thing. Whoever bought us? They were already gonna do whatever it took to get me to do their dirty work. I just handed them another tool.”

They looked pointedly at Zera’s neck. Zera raised a hand to find another collar there, presumably the same as the one Poppet was wearing.

“Shock collar?” they asked.

Poppet nodded miserably. “You may have already been in this mess, but my actions dragged you down a lot deeper.” They paused to sniff again. “You should port out of here. First chance you get? Run, and don’t look back.

“But,” Zera said, thinking about how Poppet insinuated their captors would hurt Zera to motivate them, “wouldn’t they hurt you if I did?”

They shrugged and looked away. “Doesn’t matter. I’ve already fucked up my own life; don’t let me fuck yours up, too.”

Nope. No, that was absolutely not going to work. Zera couldn’t let that stand.

They gently squeezed Poppet’s arm. “Hey. Look at me?”

Reluctantly, Poppet did.

“Thanks,” Zera said with a smile. “Firstly? Thank you, for saving my life. Whatever consequences come from that? Those are not your fault. That blame is squarely on anyone who would use someone’s decency against them. Caring about someone isn’t a fuck-up. And I’m a little biased here, but I’m really fucking grateful that you were brave enough to do that.”

“Do what?” Poppet asked quietly.

“Stand up to your mentor like that,” Zera replied. “It sounds like they’re, uh, not the easiest person to say no to.”

Poppet gave a laugh that was two-thirds sob. “No, they’re really, really not.”

Zera gave a wry smile. “Yeah. And as for me porting out if I get a chance? Not just no, but hell no.”

“What?”

“I’m not going to just leave you here to deal with the consequences of that!” Zera laughed incredulously. “That’d be a seriously dick move!”

Poppet frowned and shook their head. “But I—”

“Nope,” Zera cut them off. “No saying it doesn’t matter. It does. You matter, Poppet.”

Their eyes went all misty at that. Shit. How long had it been since someone had shown them even a scrap of kindness?

“I… I’m not sure I believe you,” they said hoarsely. “But. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Zera said, managing a weak grin. “Besides. My team will find us before too long. We just have to keep from dying of boredom until then.”

They knew damn well they’d have other things to worry about besides boredom, but the point of this was to make Poppet feel better, not worse.

Poppet nodded hesitantly. “Yeah. Your team will get you.”

“Get us,” Zera corrected. “I’m not going to leave you behind.”

“Right.” Poppet looked down, avoiding Zera’s gaze. “When they get us… I know you’re heroes, and that you— that there are things you do, with villains you capture. I understand that. I’m not trying to get out of that. Just… can you make it fast?”

Zera nodded. After-mission debriefs were always tough. Combine that with the interrogation that Poppet had coming, and Zera definitely understood the desire to get it over with quickly.

“Of course, yeah. I’ll make sure it’s as painless as possible.”

Poppet sighed in relief, suddenly looking very, very tired. “Thank you.”

---

Taglist:

@heathenville @nonbinary-disaster @kim-poce @whump-world @dolls-circus @pickleking8 @ghostfacepepper @cupcakes-and-pain @badluck990 @mylifeisonthebookshelf @pumpkin-spice-whump @deluxewhump @extemporary-whump @whumpwillow @multiple-characters1-acct @sunflower1000 @fleur-alise @equestrianwritingsstuff @scp-1296 @livingforthewhump @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @suspicious-whumping-egg @kaiwewi @lelly-belly @neuro-whump @newbornwhumperfly @whumpthisway @whumpcreations @wicked-whump @heart4brains @myhusbandsasemni @how-to-be-a-hero @kixngiggles @kurochan @whumpsday @extrabitterbrain @pattonvirglsanders @neverthelass @we-write-as-one @elrysdoesstuff @whumperflies-and-roses @ha-ha-one @whatwhumpcomments @ramadiiiisme @towerlesskey @emmanemanemm @pigeonwhumps @whumpycries

67 notes · View notes

wolfeyedwitch · 2 years

Note

trust issues for bailey

With Bloody Outstretched Hands, Part 11

So this has been sitting in my inbox for forever, but I have finally written the thing! I hope the... somewhat excessive... length helps make up for the length of the wait!

CW: manipulative/abusive whumper, gaslighting, abusive relationship, boiling frog metaphor behavior, school shooting, mentioned police brutality, mentioned hate crimes. Let me know if I missed anything, or if you'd like to join the taglist.

Masterlist

---

Bailey looked down at their knees after Foxfire took away their finished plate from breakfast. No use putting this off any longer; they needed to start talking.

“I should, um, I should tell you how I ended up with Slipknot,” they said, fingers worrying at the blanket covering them. That was a good place to start; then they could give the heroes all the information they had on Slipknot’s organization and allies.

“If you’re comfortable telling us, we’re more than willing to listen,” Tempest said.

“But it can wait, if you’re not up for it yet,” Foxfire added.

Bailey’s mouth twisted at that. If they were going to wait until Bailey was comfortable and ready, they’d be here for the rest of Bailey’s natural lifespan. No. Bailey was just going to have to suck it up and do what they came here to do.

“I wanna start by saying that none of this is an excuse for what I’ve done,” Bailey said, still not looking up at the heroes. “I’m not trying to make myself the victim, because I’m not. I’ve done some… some bad things, and I’m not trying to downplay that.”

Icarus’s face came to mind, swollen and mangled to near unrecognizability. They winced.

“We understand,” Tempest said. “Thank you for coming to us; that can’t have been easy.”

Bailey shook their head. In some ways, it was the easiest thing they’d done, or at least the easiest decision to make. They just had to stop being such a selfish coward and do it.

“Um,” Bailey said, eloquent as ever. “This happened my first year of college. I’m from— well, you looked me up, so you know. But it’s a hell of a lot less tolerant than out here. My parents were supportive, but the rest of the town? Hell no. Hate crimes weren’t common, but I wouldn’t really call them uncommon either. I was out about my gender, but I kept the fact that I’m powered to myself. I was- was actually pretty scared of my powers, then. I had some nasty accidents before I got any sort of control.

Foxfire smiled sympathetically behind their mask. “That’s totally normal. We all had to learn how to use our powers.”

Tempest nodded in agreement.

Bailey squirmed a little, uncomfortable under the heroes’ gaze. They focused on their fingers twisting the blanket as they started to talk again.

“Well. I came out here for school, and I started going to the Pride and Gifted Centers. I figured that maybe the Gifted Center would have resources for, for learning better control? And they got me set up with a therapist to talk about it and start getting less scared of my powers. So I kept going back. I got to know some people, and made friends with a few.

“That’s where I met Slipknot, though I didn’t know it at the time. I knew them as Alias.”

---

“Ugh, the street preachers are out on the main block again today,” one of Bailey’s acquaintances said as they walked into the Gifted Center.

“Which ones?” asked another. “Are people going to hell because they’re queer or because they’ve got powers, this week?”

“Both,” came another voice from the entrance. They were older than the typical college kid, maybe early thirties, with an air of refinement and self-assurance. In their nice slacks and sweater, they looked out of place next to the somewhat dingy, extremely comfortable furniture of the Center. They smiled at the students, who smiled or nodded back before breaking off into smaller groups.

All except Bailey, who stayed to talk more with the new arrival.

“Hello,” the newcomer said. “I’m Alias.”

“Bailey,” they said, extending their hand to shake.

Alias’s smile got even broader.

---

“They said they were a grad student. Studying… hell, I don’t even remember what lie they told me about that. But it seemed like our schedules matched up oh so well, because we always managed to run into each other in the library or in passing.”

Bailey gave a derisive snort. “They had me all scoped out and I didn’t even realize it. God, I was so stupid.”

“That’s not quite fair,” Airmid said as she entered the room. “‘Naive’ might be a better term.”

“No one is exactly their smartest when they’re 18,” Tempest added wryly.

Bailey shrugged, not knowing what to do with this… this… was it pity? Why were the heroes being so nice?

“Anyway,” they said, trying to get back to their story. “Um. Well, we just kept meeting up in passing. And then we started planning to meet up, and it just… kept going from there. They helped me with my classes, listened to me ramble about the history of powereds and how we’ve been viewed by different cultures. We became friends, or at least that’s what I thought at the time.”

---

“...and Professor A was saying how witches in the historical context could have been powered, and just broke off to form their own society!” Bailey said, gesturing excitedly.

Alias gave them an indulgent smile. “Yeah?”

“Yeah!” Bailey said with a laugh. “He has us doing research on it. I’m looking into the history of so-called sympathetic magic and how it could be related back to powers that are known and categorized today.”

“Like voodoo dolls?” Alias asked.

Bailey nodded. “That’s one name for it, from the Hatian and Louisiana voodoo traditions, but I’m looking more into other forms of doll effigies. I’m a little too white meat for voodoo,” they said with a laugh.

Alias laughed too. “Always so conscientious about cultural contexts. I like that about you.”

Bailey ducked their head with a smile at their friend’s praise. “Um, anyway… yeah, I’m looking more into the English traditions of witchcraft, and how that traveled to America, mostly the Northeast. Salem and the like. There, the effigies for sympathetic magic weren’t called voodoo dolls. They were called poppets.”

“Poppet…” Alias said thoughtfully. “Small and cute, but powerful, too. Maybe I should start calling you that.”

---

“Eventually I was spending vacations with them instead of going home,” Bailey continued. “They were inviting me to their house, taking me out to resorts, introducing me to their friends… I felt so special, that someone like them had taken an interest in someone like me.”

Tempest nodded. “Love-bombing,” he said. “It’s a highly effective tactic for manipulation.”

“And then…” Bailey’s throat was too tight to force words through. They tried, but nothing came out. They swallowed hard.

Foxfire disappeared in a flash of blue, then walked back through the door with a bottle of water. “Here,” they said, handing it to Bailey.

Bailey took it with a grateful nod. Their hands shook as they opened the bottle and took a sip. They replaced the cap before they could spill it all over themself.

“And then, my parents died,” Bailey finally managed.

The heroes gave sympathetic nods and hums. None of them looked surprised. Of course; if they’d looked Bailey up, they knew about that, too.

Nothing Bailey had was private. It made sense that their grief wasn’t their own, either.

“I… I didn’t handle it well,” Bailey admitted. “I kind of fell apart. I don’t have any other family, no relatives that could help me with it all. And in the midst of it all, Alias stepped up. They helped me figure it out.”

---

“Poppet!” Alias called out from across the courtyard. “Where have you been? Are you alright?”

Bailey wiped at their eyes with the back of their hand. “Not now, Alias.”

“Woah, woah, what’s wrong?” Alias said as they got close enough to see Bailey’s blotchy face and red-rimmed eyes. “Why were you in the registrar’s office? Are you okay?”

Bailey opened their mouth to tell their friend to give them space. Instead, all that came out was a sob.

Alias gently led them to a bench nearby and held them as Bailey sobbed into their shoulder, soaking their shirt with tears. “What’s going on, little poppet? Please, let me help. Even if it’s just listening.”

In between sobs, Bailey managed to get out their story. How there had been an accident, a house fire, and neither of their parents had made it out. How Bailey now had to figure out what to do with their parents’ assets and house and will and just everything when they were a thousand miles away from their childhood home. How they didn’t know if they would be able to stay in college without their parents’ income to support them. How they just didn’t know what to do.

And Alias just held them as they cried. They kissed the top of Bailey’s head and promised to help make everything better.

And they did. They invited Bailey to move in with them so Bailey didn’t have to worry about continuing to pay for a dorm. They hired a lawyer to help deal with Bailey’s family’s affairs, and helped Bailey get the extensions they needed in their classes so they could get everything sorted. They helped Bailey look for and apply to scholarships to cover tuition costs.

Everything suddenly seemed more manageable, with Alias there to help.

---

“Over the next year and a half or so, I started seeing things and adding the pieces together. Or should I say, Alias let me see the clues,” Bailey said. “It all came to a head during the shooting.”

“When that bigot went after anyone with powers?” Foxfire asked.

Bailey nodded, mouth dry as they thought back to that day.

---

Bailey was in the Gifted Center, in one of the back rooms, when the screams started. Interspersed with them were loud pops that Bailey had only ever heard on TV before: gunshots.

They panicked. They’d known about school shootings, had even had a safety briefing on them in one of their freshmen orientation classes, but they’d never expected to actually be in one!

Think, think, think. What were they supposed to do? What was the little mantra that police officer had drilled into their heads?

Run, hide, fight.

Well, they couldn’t run. The room they were in didn’t have an exit. They’d have to go back through the rest of the Gifted Center to get outside, and that was where the noise was coming from.

Was it coming closer?

No, they couldn’t think about that right now. They didn’t have time to freeze; they had to figure out their next step.

The next step was hide. They could do that.

They pushed a small bookcase in front of the door, then turned the lights off in the room. They looked around for a good hiding spot. All they saw were the beanbags and squishy chairs where they’d curled up to read and study so often. The room was too open; there was nowhere for them to hide!

A hand gripped their arm, and a second one clamped over their mouth before they could scream.

“It’s just me, Bailey,” Alias’s voice said. “Come on, I can get us out of here.”

The rest of that afternoon was a bit of a blur. Bailey had to give a statement to the cops, who had seemingly taken their sweet time in getting there. The shooter had been taken into custody, but not before they’d left a string of casualties in their wake.

Alias came to pick Bailey up and bring them home. In the car, Bailey said, “You got me out.”

Alias just nodded.

“The doors were locked.”

Another nod.

“You took me through the wall.”

“You aren’t the only one with powers, little poppet,” Alias said.

“Intangibility,” Bailey said. ��But isn’t that… isn’t that Slipknot’s power?”

Alias sighed. “There’s something that I need to tell you.”

---

“That’s when they told me they were Slipknot,” Bailey said. “And I knew they were a villain, but when they explained it, everything they said just made so much sense. They said they were fighting against…”

Bailey felt their cheeks prickle with heat. “Well, they said they were ‘fighting against the corrupt system that heroes help perpetuate’.”

Foxfire made a noise that somehow indicated both humor and dismay.

“Yeah,” Bailey said wryly. “Looking back on it, I feel so stupid. But back then, it just… made sense. They introduced me to the villains they worked with, and they all seemed to have such good reasons. They talked about how corrupt our society is, and how change isn’t brought about by asking nicely. A few of the ones that are known for being more violent said things like how societies don’t change unless you make them change. That they had to be willing to do things others wouldn’t, couldn’t, to get things done. And if I needed proof that something needed doing, then I could just look back at the shooting. Compare how that normie white boy got taken in without a scratch on him while powereds who hadn’t even committed a crime got killed and cops called it ‘self defense’.”

Bailey smiled humorlessly. “And I bought every bit of it.”

Even now, the reasons still made sense to them, was the worst part. Even knowing how much damage their former ‘team’ was actually doing, their justifications for it all still seemed legitimate. Because Bailey knew their history: nothing changed without some kind of catalyst. Many things that were illegal at the time are now looked on as the moral and just choice. The Underground Railroad hadn’t been legal. The Civil Rights Movement intentionally broke laws. Hell, the gay rights movement had started with a riot!

They shook their head to clear those thoughts. Now was not the time for that.

“Slipknot didn’t try to recruit me to work for them, at least not at first,” they continued. “I kept going to college for a while. But they offered to train me to use my powers. They… they said I didn’t have to worry about accidentally hurting them, given their own powers.”

---

“Okay,” Slipknot said. “Now show me what you’ve got.”

Bailey looked around the training room hesitantly. “Alias, I’m still not sure about this.”

“It’ll be fine, I promise, little poppet,” they said with a smile. “You can’t hit me, remember? Even if anything goes wrong, it’ll just pass right through me. And if all else fails, I have Healer on staff just in case.”

Bailey nodded and squared their shoulders. They surveyed the line of kettlebells laid out from lightest to heaviest. They reached for their powers.

Slowly, unsteadily, the five-pound weight rose into the air. It got to around waist height before Bailey lost their grip and had to double over panting.

Slipknot clapped their hands. “That was great, Bailey! Really great start. I know that was hard, but it’ll only get easier with practice. We can figure out a schedule for training around your classes and focus on your finesse as well as your upper limits.

“You’re going to be magnificent; I just know it.”

---

“Eventually, as I got less scared of my powers, they grew stronger,” Bailey said. “I ended up joining the villains for their group training, eventually. I started focusing less and less on my classes until it didn’t make sense to even go any more. I dropped out to join Slipknot as a villain.

“They gave me the name Poppet.”

At the time, it had felt sweet, like an inside joke they had that the rest of the world wasn’t in on. Now? It just felt like another thing Slipknot had ruined about them.

“This was two years ago?” Tempest asked.

Bailey nodded. “Yeah. Slipknot made a big deal out of it, too. They threw a party in my honor to welcome me to the team.”

---

“I can’t do this,” Bailey said, turning away from the door.

Slipknot caught them gently by the arm and turned them back towards the door. “Yes, you can. It’s going to be fine, little Poppet. Besides, everyone is waiting for you. Don’t you want to show off all my hard work?” they said teasingly.

Bailey was wearing a super suit for the first time. Slipknot had designed it for them. It was gray and red, with a mask that protected their identity, protection for all their major vital bits, and a plethora of pockets as well as a utility belt. It was striking and distinct from every other villain and hero in the area, and Bailey loved it. They loved how much thought and effort their friend had put into making it, to keeping Bailey safe both physically and identity-wise.

Bailey took a deep breath. They could do this.

They opened the door to riotous applause.

---

“It was just little stuff at first. Acting as lookout, adjusting cameras so there were bigger blindspots, that kind of thing. As I got better, got more trusted,” Bailey spat the word like it tasted bitter, “my jobs got bigger too. Pretty soon I was given small solo missions, and then taking part in even larger group operations.

“Training changed, too. It got harder, rougher. There were times I wasn’t allowed to use my hands, just my powers, to work on my fine control. In group training, there would be uneven splits of teams where I would have to defend against a lot of the others.

“It just kept snowballing, I guess. And by the time I realized that I was in way over my head, that this wasn’t what I wanted, I was too afraid to leave.”

---

The group was laughing, comparing scars and telling the stories behind them. Viper had just shown a big one down her back from being thrown through a window by a hero two states over, back when she worked solo.

“Don’t worry Poppet; you’ll have stories to share soon enough,” she said, patting them on the knee.

They ducked their head. On the one hand, it would be nice to be part of the easy comradery here, able to show off their scars and tell their stories like they actually belonged. On the other, though…

“The heroes really did all of that?” Bailey asked. “I thought they had, like… rules against that, or something.”

The villains all looked at them, then broke into laughter.

“Oh, Poppet, sometimes I forget how new you are to this,” Viper said.

“Sure they’ve got rules,” said another in the group. “According to what they tell the public, anyway.”

Other Villain smirked at Bailey. “All I can say is, don’t show them any weakness, and don’t get caught. With that kind of attitude? The heroes would chew you up and spit you out.”

Bailey looked to Slipknot in alarm. Slipknot nodded solemnly.

“We’re nothing but villains to them, little poppet,” Slipknot said. Their voice had none of the levity of the others. “We’re already the bad guys, so to them? Anything they do to us is justified. That’s why I’m always so careful with our exit plans. I don’t want any of you to get caught by them. I don’t want to lose any of you.”

---

“They said… they said you did terrible things,” Bailey admitted quietly. “They said that villains who get captured by heroes never make it to jail, or not any jail that normals go to anyway. They said any kind of weakness I showed, like being in pain, was just something you’d take advantage of. That you’d do whatever it took to get me to talk, to give you everything I knew about Slipknot and the team.”

“Bailey,” Foxfire started, sounding absolutely gutted. “We wouldn’t—”

“I know that now,” Bailey said, ducking their head so they didn’t have to see the expression that went with that tone. “But I didn’t then. Even once I figured out I didn’t actually want to be on the team, didn’t want to be doing everything they were, I was still too chickenshit to actually leave. I thought my options were either them finding me again, or you lot taking me in. Neither of those seemed like good options.”

“What changed your mind?” Tempest asked.

“The story recently, of the geomancer heroine and the ‘villain’ that could talk to animals,” Bailey said. “I figured that if Avery could get taken into custody and end up fighting with the heroes there, then you’d at least listen to me.”

“Thank you for trusting us,” Foxfire said.

Bailey’s mouth twisted wryly. This wasn’t trust. They couldn’t trust the heroes; they could barely trust themself at this point. This was just… picking the least bad option.

“This wasn’t your fault, you know,” Airmid said.

Bailey looked at her, puzzled. “What?”

“She’s right,” Tempest added. “Slipknot intentionally manipulated you. It sounds like they spent quite a bit of time and resources on the process, too.”

“It’s like the boiling frog thing,” Foxfire said. “If they’d just started out with the behavior they ended at, you’d never have gone along with it.”

Bailey shook their head. Foxfire was giving them too much credit. “I looked that up once, you know. About boiling a frog. Turns out the only way they stay in a pot of water as it heats up is if you lobotomize them first.”

They gave a snort of derisive laughter. “I guess that makes me dumber than a brain-dead frog, because I stayed.”

---

Taglist:

@heathenville @nonbinary-disaster @kim-poce @whump-world @dolls-circus @pickleking8 @appleejuice @cupcakes-and-pain @badluck990 @mylifeisonthebookshelf @pumpkin-spice-whump @deluxewhump @extemporary-whump @whumpwillow @multiple-characters1-acct @sunflower1000 @fleur-des-lore @equestrianwritingsstuff, @scp-1296 @livingforthewhump @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @suspicious-whumping-egg @kaiwewi @lelly-belly @neuro-whump @newbornwhumperfly @whumpthisway, @whumpcreations, @wicked-whump @heart4brains, @myhusbandsasemni @how-to-be-a-hero @kixngiggles @kurochan @whumpsday @extrabitterbrain @pattonvirglsanders @neverthelass @we-write-as-one @elrysdoesstuff @whumperflies-and-roses @ha-ha-one @whatwhumpcomments @ramadiiiisme @towerlesskey @emmanemanemm @pigeonwhumps

With much love to @whump-a-la-mode for these prompts that helped spark this entry!

108 notes · View notes

wolfeyedwitch · 10 months

Note

Honestly there is something so sadistically fun thinking of Zera's heart breaking when Bailey loses their progress and starts giving them the same terrified obedience that they once gave Slipknot.

Poor hero actually saw real progress only for it all to be undone and made worse with Bailey now fearing them too

Like I hate the thought of Bailey being recaptured but it offers up so much potential for Slipknot to mess with their head further. Like tell them that the heroes gave them up or something and as time goes on and there's no help in sight Bailey can't help but wonder if it's true.

Idk im just having hurt Bailey thoughts this morning. You're a bad influence on your fans lol

Mwahahaha you're on the same wavelength as I am! Whether it's through Slipknot's interference, or a mistake that Zera makes, somehow Bailey is now terrified of Zera and giving them (and the rest of the heroes, but it hits Zera hardest) the same terrified obedience as they gave Slipknot, as you said.

Zera is just. Horrified. And they want to break down and scream and cry and rage about it, but they can't, because it will just make the situation worse. So now they have to keep their composure as long as Bailey is around, no matter how much they want to crumble.

---

I'm not sure which setup I like better, actually! If it's because of Slipknot, there's that angst from outside interference and that's always fun. But if it's something that Zera does? Oh. Sweet, sweet angst.

OOooooooooh what about both??? After Bailey is rescued after the recapture arc, something Zera does plays into that conditioning that Slipknot did and sets Bailey off. So you get the best of both situations!

#with bloody outstretched hands #bailey and zera #zera the hero #zera aka foxfire #bailey the villain #bailey aka poppet #bailey is having a bad time #lunar rambles #bailey prompts #audience interaction #thank you for this!!!

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wolfeyedwitch · 2 years

Note

soft words of reassurance for bailey (either canon or pariah prisoner version)

Pariah Prisoner, Part 4

So... I'm gonna just... deliberately misuse a comfort prompt in the name of furthering my plotline. Sorry. I promise I'll have more comfort soon. I have Plans. This also serves as my WIJ Day 6 entry for the prompt "Hold On".

Shoutout to anyone who can tell me the two TV shows I referenced here. Bailey is a nerd.

CW: blood, injury, swearing, implied past torture/abuse, (concussion, broken nose, dislocated shoulder already happened and are mentioned), stabbing

Masterlist

---

“Okay,” Bailey muttered, trying to gather their thoughts. The scattered ideas felt like stained glass, sharp-edged and glittering. They wanted nothing more than to sit down and think of nothing while waiting for the worst of their pain to pass.

But they couldn’t. Their directions, their powers, were the only things that were going to get the heroes out of here.

There was a job that needed doing, so they would do it. It was as simple and difficult as that.

“Escape Plan A failed,” Bailey said, mostly to themself. “So we’re moving on to Plan D.”

“What happened to B and C?” Foxfire asked.

“Not applicable,” Bailey said. They wanted to make a joke of it, but it wasn’t the time. Anyway, they doubted the heroes would get the reference even if they made it.

“Okay, I’ll bite,” Icarus said. Bailey warily gazed at him, wondering if he was being metaphorical or literal. “What’s Plan D?”

Metaphorical, then. Bailey let out a little sigh of relief. “Plan D is sneaking our way upstairs and going out through a window.”

There was a long moment of silence as Bailey worked on the door’s lock. Eventually, they turned to look at the heroes, who were giving them looks with varying shades of concern and doubt.

“What?” they asked.

“Could you elaborate on that plan?” Tempest asked.

“Because it seems a little…” Foxfire broke off.

Icarus finished for them. “Iffy.”

Oh. Well, that was fair. “There’s a set of service stairs. The lock for them is like this one, set into the wall, so Slipknot didn’t bother to set up cameras for them since they were the only one who could open it.”

The lock was an utter pain in the ass, honestly. It was barely more than a common turn-lock deadbolt, but the placement of it made it very secure. Slipknot could just reach in and turn the thing; Bailey had to work through a good few inches of wall to get at it.

Finally, they got a hold of the knob for the lock and started twisting. As they worked, they continued explaining. “Security is a lot tighter on the lower floors, since, you know, more likely area for breaking in and out. Which is why we’re not going there. There are enough blind spots on the higher levels that we can get to a window.”

The lock finally turned, and Bailey resisted the urge to pump their fist in triumph. They turned to face the heroes.

“The windows are reinforced,” Tempest said. “Shatterproof.”

Bailey gave a little nod. “Yeah. All of them. I have a plan for that too, though. That’s the part where timing is gonna be tricky, because I’ll have to get something, and it’s somewhere that’s monitored. We’ll have a small window of time to break the window and jump out.”

“Um…” Foxfire said. “Gravity?”

“Flight, wind, telekinesis,” Bailey said, pointing to Icarus, Tempest, and themself in turn. “Between the three of us, we should be fine. We don’t need to stop our fall, just slow it.”

Icarus still looked unconvinced, but Tempest just nodded. “Lead on,” he said.

Bailey opened the door, and the group made their way out. Bailey led them through the blindspots they’d mapped to the service stairs. They pressed themselves close to the wall while Bailey opened the locked door.

“If you can open this too, why didn’t Slipknot put surveillance up?” Icarus asked.

“Couldn’t do this originally,” Bailey said, frowning in concentration. The lock was sticking; it probably needed graphite, not that it was likely to get any.

“They don’t know you can open their special locks?” he pushed.

“No,” Bailey said, trying to keep their tone even. He had made them lose their grip on the fucking lock again. “This was self-taught, if that’s what you’re asking.”

The lock finally turned, and they opened the door to the stairs.

Now they just had to go up, and up, and up. Joy.

“How’d you learn, anyway?” Foxfire asked. Their voice was at least something more pleasant to focus on than the echoing clang of the group’s footsteps on the stairs. “It doesn’t look like it’s easy to do, so why bother?”

“Lots of exposure,” Bailey said curtly. Their head (and back, and nose, and… everything, honestly) hurt too much to keep their tone polite.

“Sneaking around behind your boss’s back, Poppet?” Icarus asked snidely.

Bailey couldn’t help but flinch at the name. They resolved that as soon as they were somewhere safe(r), they would tell the heroes their real name. Even if they sided with Icarus and decided to put Bailey down, Bailey was going to go out under their own name.

They weren’t going to remain as what Slipknot had made them into.

“Something like that,” they huffed.

It was the truth… if breaking out of the room they were locked in counted as sneaking behind Slipknot’s back. When they’d moved in, Bailey had only known about the lock on the inside of their door. They didn’t know about the one Slipknot had set into the wall, the one that could override their settings.

And that wasn’t even counting the times Bailey had frequented the cells for various lessons and punishments.

Finally, they reached the floor Bailey needed.

“Is this… a dorm?” Foxfire asked.

“Bigger rooms than your average college dorm, but close enough,” Bailey said. “This is one of the residential floors. There’s a window in the lounge. I just need to get something first.”

“What about other residents?” Tempest asked.

Bailey shook their head. “Not many of them. I wasn’t kidding about these being bigger than your average college dorm. And they shouldn’t be here anyway; this is training time.”

Which, of course, was when they ran into someone.

Viper opened her door just in time to see the four go past. She stared at them.

They stared back.

Viper looked Bailey up and down critically, gaze lingering on their broken nose and stiffly-held shoulder. She seemed to come to a conclusion, and nodded slightly.

“Hm. Seems that what I thought I heard must have been a remnant from that fever dream I was having,” she said, “because I don’t see anything out here.”

Bailey could have cried. Instead, they managed a small, shaky, “Thank you.”

She gave them a crooked smile, showing off her fangs. “I sure hope that my fever dream ends before I have my meeting with Slipknot in…” She checked her watch. “Fifteen minutes. It would be very awkward to have to explain that to them.”

She dropped the pretense and added, “Go. Get out of here.”

“Thank you,” Bailey added fervently, then led the heroes off at a run.

They got to Bailey’s room, and Bailey frantically started looking for what they needed.

“Come on, come on, I know I didn’t get rid of it, where the fuck did I put it after last time…” Bailey muttered under their breath as they pulled out drawers in their dresser.

“What the fuck was that?” Icarus demanded. “You said there wouldn’t be anyone here!”

“Said there shouldn’t, not wouldn’t,” Bailey corrected. “Forgot that Viper is on bedrest and isn’t at training. And that was our new time limit.”

“Honor among villains?” Foxfire suggested.

Bailey gave a half-hearted smile. “Something like that.”

Viper was one of the villains on the team who was halfway decent. She followed Slipknot’s orders, but she never went beyond the minimum necessary damages in training or on missions. Of all the people they could have run into during this escape attempt, she was probably the best option.

Bailey continued tearing through their room as they looked; it wasn’t as though it mattered if they made a mess, after all. They wouldn’t be coming back.

“What are you looking for?” Tempest asked. “Could we help?”

Bailey shook their head. “No, it’s— ugh, why do I still have that— it’s small, you won’t be able to help. It’s a necklace.”

“How’s that gonna help?” Icarus asked skeptically.

“It’s a diamond,” Bailey said.

Foxfire made a noise of agreement. “Not tougher than crystallized carbon,” they said.

Bailey smiled. They should have guessed Foxfire was a nerd.

“That won’t work,” Icarus said. “The force you’d have to put behind it—”

Bailey cut him off. “I can do it.”

He scoffed.

Bailey turned to glare at him. “This isn’t just your life on the line here; it’s mine, too. I’m not playing around. So unless you have a better idea? You’re gonna have to go with what I’ve got.”

They turned back to searching as Icarus gaped at them. They knew they still had it; they’d checked when they made this backup plan. And even before that, they wouldn’t have gotten rid of it. Slipknot had it made from one of the diamonds they’d stolen in the heist that led to Icarus’s intervention. It was both promise and threat, and Slipknot made sure that they wore it to every fancy occasion.

It wasn’t a collar, but it was a claim of ownership just the same.

Bailey finally found the necklace, and the group made their way to the lounge to make their improvised exit. The heroes cleared the furniture away from the window. Bailey held the diamond necklace in place with their powers, then struck it like a hammer against a chisel.

The reinforced glass spiderwebbed out from the impact.

“Well, well,” came a horribly familiar voice from behind them. “I have to admit, I didn’t quite expect this.”

Bailey turned to see Slipknot flanked by several other villains, including Viper.

They’d run out of time.

The ensuing fight was as vicious as it was chaotic. The villains weren’t holding back, using blows meant to maim or kill. Bailey did their best, but they were already at a disadvantage with their concussion and injured shoulder. Add to that the worry of protecting the heroes, as well? They didn’t really have a chance.

A stray blow sent the broken glass flying from its frame, and Bailey took their chance. “Go, go, go!” they shouted, practically pulling the heroes out the window with them as they jumped. Something cold hit Bailey’s side, but they didn’t have time to think about it. They were falling.

All of Slipknot’s sadistic training about heights paid off. With the help of Icarus and Tempest, Bailey was able to get all four of them to the ground safely.

And then they collapsed to one knee. Why… why weren’t their legs working?

They looked down to their side, where they’d felt the impact of something cold. The handle of a knife sprouted from their skin like a weed.

That’s not supposed to be there, Bailey thought.

Like a weed, they plucked it from where it wasn’t supposed to be.

That was when the pain truly set in. Bailey gasped at the sudden intensity of it, falling to their hands and knees under the unrelenting onslaught.

Suddenly Foxfire was there, hands warm against Bailey’s skin. They pressed against the wound, making the pain worse. Why were they making it worse? Bailey groaned and tried to push them away, but was too weak.

Foxfire was shouting, but Bailey had trouble focusing on the words. The hero’s face softened with something like… concern? What were they concerned about? Had one of the heroes gotten hurt?

“No, no, Poppet, look at me,” Foxfire said. “Look at me, there you go, keep your focus on me. You’re gonna be okay, just hang on. Hang on!”

Bailey smiled weakly. They rasped, “Bailey.”

“What? Don’t worry about anyone else, just keep looking at me. You’re okay; we’re gonna get you to our medic, just hang on, Poppet.”

Bailey shook their head. “Not Poppet. It’s Bailey.”

Their eyelids were so heavy, far too heavy to keep open. They smiled as their eyes slid shut. “My name is Bailey.”

They were going to go out under their own name, after all.

---

I don't kill my characters, don't kill me please! (Exceptions may apply to irredeemable whumpers. Of which I am not one. Again, please don't kill me.)

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