Capture - Tumblr Posts
by Yasin Osman on Flickr.Fishing capture - Mogadishu, Somalia.
Captured by Royalists, John and Blake are being held in a cell awaiting transport to the Royal City. John… isn’t handling it too well… Wonder how they’ll get out!
Blake: Done 🙅🏻
i love french bulldogs :)
With my #sister #photo #photos #pic #pics #picture #pictures #snapshot #art #beautiful #instagood #shots #color #all_shots #exposure #composition #capture #moment #Boy #Cute #girl #cuteGirl
With my #brothers #photo #photos #pic #pics #picture #pictures #snapshot #art #beautiful #instagood #shots #color #all_shots #exposure #composition #capture #moment #Boy #cuteGirl #CuteBoy #boys #beautiful #beautifulGirl #man
You were the sunset, I, the shore; And this— who we are and what we want is the ocean that separates us.
Capturing every experience in my web.
Landscape of Beautiful Spiti Valley
Spiti is as stunning as it's name sound
“Photography is a way of feeling, of touching, of loving What you have caught on film is captured forever.
It remembers little things, Long after you have forgotten everything.”
—Aaron Siskind
Go slowly, my lovely moon, go slowly. . . . . . . . . #milkyway #longexposure #panorma #scenic #Destination #goldenhour #himachalpradesh #chitkul #cosmic #capture #nikond5200 #cosmos #vrvkrm #breathtaking #NoFilter #mountains #himalayas #travel #wanderlust #skyphotography #himachal #india #asthetic #artist #art #life #timeflies #travel #nightphotography #nightsky #nightscape #stars #startrails #vrvkrm #photography #physics #astrophotography #astrophysics (at Chitkul - छितकुल, Himachal Pradesh) https://www.instagram.com/p/Bwagf5xn7W2/?igshid=1evog76hy4xoy
by Yasin Osman on Flickr.Fishing capture - Mogadishu, Somalia.
Trapped Hero
The hero slammed into the villain’s chest so hard their breath left their lungs.
The villain didn’t have the decency to look phased as the hero scrambled away.
“You can’t keep me here.”
The villain smiled, a gentle thing, like the hero was a wild animal and they were the valiant rescuer.
Trapped in this cage, the hero felt a little wild.
They were used to cages. This wasn’t the first time. And yet, with the look on the villain’s face, with the power dampeners twined around the hero’s wrists, they were more afraid than they had ever been.
“Of course I can,” the villain said simply. “How would you stop me?”
They cast a pointed look at the hero’s wrists, and they stumbled a step back.
Something twisted in their gut.
“You have no right,” the hero began, and something shuttered in the villain’s eyes.
“You’re so innocent.”
The hero paused.
Innocent? The hero had never associated themselves with that word. Not with their childhood, not with their power, not with their job.
Try to save a city, and spill blood in the process. The only who seemed to care about the spilling of criminal blood was the hero.
Good work, the agency called it.
The hero simply wore it as guilt.
“Innocent,” the villain murmured once more. When they stepped into the hero’s space, closed any distance the hero had managed to create, the hero froze.
“I’m not innocent,” the hero spat, and it felt like a confession.
“You wear the guilt beautifully, I must admit. But you shouldn’t have to.”
The villain ran a hand along the hero’s jaw, and they jerked away.
“Don’t touch me.”
Impossibly, the villain’s eyes softened. The took a step back, watching as the hero relaxed minutely.
“I’m doing this for you.”
“If you’re doing this for me, let me out. Take these damned things off, and let me out.”
“No.”
The hero reeled, and the villain watched that, too.
The city needed them, their people needed them, and they couldn’t help if they were trapped in this tower.
Behind the villain, the door remained closed.
“Please.”
The villain blew out a slow breath.
“You’re too kind for this city.”
The hero took a step forward, hand stretching towards the window.
“That’s why it needs me,” they pleaded. “Don’t take me from it.”
The villain’s eyed them with reproach.
“Does it need you,” they said gently, “or do you need it?”
The hero scoffed.
“What difference does it make—“
“I read your file,” the villain said, and the hero stiffened.
Their childhood, the pain, the hurt, the curses and uttering of freakwrongburden that they kept oh so carefully buried was laid bare in front of them.
Of course the villain had. Of course the villain knew.
The hero swallowed, and it hurt.
“You had no right—“
“They had no right to hurt you.”
The hero stopped. Across from them, the villain was closest to anger as they had ever seen them.
Their power lashed out, and the cuffs shoved it down with all the grace of a falling building.
“Your parents,” the villain began. “Your siblings. They were awful people. If they weren’t already dead, I’d kill them for you.”
The hero shuddered. That night, those deaths, the gravestones that haunted them, tattooed on their mind in ways they knew that they could never erase.
They had been too slow then. They hadn’t been that slow ever again. They made sure of it.
“I don’t need you to—“
“You will not protect yourself, so I am doing it for you.”
The hero jerked their head.
“You call this protecting?”
The tower sat silent around them.
The villain’s jaw clenched.
“This city, your precious people,” the villain grit out. “They would destroy you, if you let them. If I let them.”
The hero took another step forward, and their power hummed, furious within their veins.
Too slow, their body whispered. Danger.
The villain smiled, and this time, it wasn’t gentle, but vicious. The hair on the back of the hero’s neck rose.
“But for you, darling? I’m going to destroy it first.”
They were out the door faster than the hero could grab them.
Even when they screamed their throat raw, scratched their nails bloody on the edges of the door, the villain did not come.
Too slow.
The city burned.
Trapped Hero Pt. 2
For the lovely person who asked (you made my day!)
Pt. 1, if anyone wants it.
When the hero woke up, the villain was bandaging their hands.
For a moment, it was simply the soothing smell of numbing cream, the careful glide of fabrics around their fingers.
Their brain, lagging far too many seconds behind, jerked, and they tried to tug their hands from the villain’s grip.
The villain looked up at them, eyes betraying nothing, and continued their work.
Even with the power dampeners, they should have been able to pull free. They hadn’t felt this weak since before their powers had set in. They had been young, five at most when the genetic mutation had finally kicked in. To any of the other families across the city, it would have been heralded as a blessing. To the hero’s, it was a betrayal, made by the hero on purpose.
Never mind that it was their parents DNA.
Never mind that they were a child.
The villain glanced up at them once more, scanning their face, before they softly said “I drugged you.”
The hero blinked, and their head pulsed with pain.
“Why,” their throat cracked so badly, raw and aching, that they stopped.
Why did you drug me?
Why all of this?
And dully, that final question, just a stark, why.
The villain seemed to understand anyways.
“You were hurting yourself.”
They slicked a piece of tape around the hero’s fingers. When the hero struggled to sit up, they pushed them back down with a firm hand to their chest.
A bed. They were on a bed. The loss of their memories, the absence of how they had gotten to this point, was a hole in their rib cage. They hated it. They hated drugs.
After the concoction their mother had fed them throughout their childhood, first to make them normal, then, when that hadn’t worked, to keep them docile, how could they not?
The villain knew that, too. And they had drugged them anyways.
“Stop pretending like you care.” It came out more broken than the hero had wanted it to.
The villain hummed, examining the hero’s hands. After a moment, they tucked them together, lacing a firm hand around the hero’s wrists. Their fingers were warm.
“If I didn’t care, I wouldn’t have locked you in this tower.”
The hero froze.
The tower. The city. Their city—
The hero bolted upright, and the villain caught them. After a moment, they tucked the hero against their chest, grip tight on their wrists.
Over the villains shoulder, the edges of the door were chipped, surface smeared with the hero’s blood.
Escape had not come easy. Really, it hadn’t come at all.
The hero shuddered, and the villain rubbed a soothing hand on their back, as if it wasn’t keeping them pinned in some awful version of a hug.
As if this wasn’t another form of a cage.
“The city,” they gasped out, and the villain traced a slow circle on their back.
“Is gone,” the villain supplied.
The hero didn’t realize they were keening until the villain hushed them, low and soothing against their ear.
“It was for your own good, can’t you see that? It was for you.”
If the villain released them, they would see the tears on the hero’s cheek.
They didn’t release them.
“They can’t hurt you any more.”
But that wasn’t true, was it?
The bruises of their parents, the cuts of their siblings and past had twisted in their nightmares for their entire life, long after they were little more than eulogies and grave markers.
They were dead, but the ghosts of them remained.
The city was gone, but the ruins of it weighed heavy on their shoulders anyways.
“You know that isn’t true. Gone doesn’t mean it stops hurting. Gone never means—“
The hero bit back a sob.
The villain carded a hand through their hair.
“No,” the agreed. “Gone does not mean it stops hurting. The ghosts of the past are vicious, aren’t they?”
Their grip tightened in the hero’s hair, to the point of pain.
“With time, I think I can fix that too.”
The hero reeled, shoving against the grip on their wrists, and the villain let them scramble backwards. They slammed into the headboard, shaking like a newborn fawn.
The villain tapped an idle finger. “You saved me, once. You didn’t know who I was, or that I was covered in someone else’s blood as much as my own—you saw me, bloody, bearing a gunshot wound, and tried to help. I could have killed you, but I didn’t. How could I ever hurt someone who radiated such kindness? That’s when I knew you were a blessing on this wretched place. That’s when I knew I was going to save you, no matter the cost. Do you remember that?”
The sickening thing was, they did remember that. They had learned later that there had been dead body ten feet behind the villain. They had learned later that the villain had an extensive record of revenge killings, dating back years.
But in that moment, it had only been about the person in front of them, covered in blood, with a wound.
So the hero had healed them, their telekinesis rushing over them and adjusting their tousled clothes as they went, until the wound was gone and the blood was half vanished from the villain’s clothes. They hadn’t realized it had been more than the villain’s blood staining their jacket.
When they saw the villain again on the battlefield, they recognized the face, but couldn’t place why.
Now they knew.
“You’re a monster,” the hero spat, and the villain raised a brow, as if it hadn’t hurt them the way the hero wanted.
“Maybe. But at least I’m the monster who covets you.”
“You are no better than anyone who has hurt me—“
At this, the villain jerked forward, grip bruising on the hero’s chin. Their eyes burned with that quiet rage.
After a moment, they smiled, just barely.
“I am not your parents,” they said cruelly, “drugging you until you were too much of a zombie to be special. I am not your siblings, seeing how long they had to drown you before your powers would lash out. I am not this city, covering you with blood and calling it righteous.”
The hero had stopped breathing.
“Everything I do, I do it to protect you. And if protecting you sometimes means hurting you, then I’ll take the weight of that.”
The villain released them, and stood.
They corners of their smiled smoothed into something pleasant. Fake, like plastic.
When the hero tried to speak, all they could manage was a strangled, “Please.”
The villain tipped their head.
“I will not give you a freedom that will bring you pain.”
“But you’ll give me captivity?”
“This is a blessing. No more pain. No more hurt. No more guilt.”
The hero scoffed, chest tight.
“A life in a cage will never be one without pain.”
The villain narrowed their eyes, but their voice remained soft.
“We’ll see.”
“I hate you.”
The villain nodded.
“Oh, love. I know.”
When the villain left, the hero curled in on themself and tried to pretend they weren’t in their mother’s darkened closet once more.
This time, the hero didn’t bother screaming.
At least the villain caged them out of love, instead of hatred.
Somehow, even with the knowledge that this was some twisted form of protection, the walls still suffocated the hero all the same.
Map of Fae
I go absolutely Feral for Fae so I am ever so grateful that @hojo76 included it in his prompt idea
Anyways here you go
She hadn’t even wanted to take cartology in the first place—what kind of highschool offered it as an elective anyways?
She had marked it as last on her list.
But then the school secretary lost her class request form (because Janice hated her) and the principal wouldn’t let her switch (because he wasn’t paid enough to care) and so now she was stuck, cursing her way through a forest in the middle of a downpour.
“Fuck,” she slid on a patch of mud, catching herself at the last moment. Her paper, gleefully marked with the edges of the park, waited for her to draw the trails and elevation onto it. By now, it was soggy.
She didn’t really care.
She took another step, almost tripped again, and swore to kill Janice as soon as she got back into school grounds.
Distantly, she heard her class mates yelling, voices tinged with some emotion she couldn’t identify over the rain.
The paper dissolved in her hands.
One more step.
This time, she didn’t catch herself as she fell, the ground slamming into her and sending the air rushing from her lungs.
Her class mates were still yelling, but they were louder now, and she realized the emotion in their voices was fear.
Her name.
They were screaming her name.
Below her, the ground bucked, heaving as if the earth itself was breathing, and then she was falling, fast and slow and loud and quiet and up and down and—
She was on the ground.
She blinked, sucking in a breath.
It smelled like jasmine, like childhood summer break, humid forests and old libraries.
The rain, she realized, had stopped.
A voice so melodic it hurt laughed, and she bolted into upright.
“Hello, frightened thing.”
The person in front of her was the most beautiful, terrifying thing she had ever seen. Perfection like that wasn’t supposed to exist—how was it fair, that all the moonlight and whispers and long grown forests could be contained into one being?
They smiled, like they could tell what she was thinking.
“Who—“ she stopped. “Where—“.
“I,” they began, “am fae. This is the fae realm. You took quite the fall.”
She coughed. Lovely. They were insane.
“I’m sorry,” she rose to her feet, bones aching. Around her, the forest gleamed. “Could you point me back to the park exit? I need to find my class.”
The person, the fae, was still smiling.
“Cartology,” they hummed. “Such an interesting subject. Trying to map everything, to contain the world upon paper.” They ran their finger over a branch. “It never was the best idea, now, was it?”
She swallowed. Her feet, she realized, had drawn her a step back. The person matched her, easily.
“I never told you my class was Cartology.”
They tipped their head.
“Of course you didn’t. I picked it for you.”
Her gut sank, and she let loose a slow breath. Eyes, gut, groin. She knew this, her sister had told her where to aim in situations like this. She hadn’t thought she would need to use it. Her fists clenched.
“Look, I don’t know who you think I am, or who you think you are, but I’m going to leave, and you aren’t going to follow me,” she spat. She pretended her hands were shaking from anger. Her raincoat was still damp.
Something on the persons face shifted, and they were studying her like she was the most fascinating painting.
When she stepped back, they didn’t bother to follow her. A branch snapped beneath her sneakers.
“The mouth on you,” they whispered. “So sharp. Such a smart, wicked mind.”
They smiled again.
“Pretty, too.”
They got closer, and she backed up further, and her knees hit a log.
“Back up. Now.”
They hummed.
Their hand twisted, and there was a paper in it. They tipped it forward, and there was her name, inked across the top.
Her class request form.
Her heart skipped a beat.
“Where did you get that,” she whispered. Her chest hurt.
“Janice, of course. Poor thing, so weak minded. It was easy enough, to have her switch you into Cartology. Just a little twisting, and she molded like putty.”
Their canines were sharp. Too sharp.
“Who are you.”
They laughed.
“Come now. I know you’re smarter than this; I know you. Figure it out.”
Her gut clenched. The forest, she realized, was dead silent.
When her mouth moved, she wasn’t even sure she was the one talking. “Fae.”
The Fae smiled wider.
“There you go.”
The request form burst into ashes, crumbling into nothing. She watched it with a sick sort of detachment.
“Why.”
“Why what?”
“Why Cartology?”
The Fae laughed, a musical sort of thing, sharp as knives.
“I need you to go into the woods.”
When she said nothing, they continued.
“I needed to have you.”
She glanced towards where she thought the entrance might be, and turned back to find the Fae dizzyingly close. They ran a hand along her jaw.
“Do you know how special you are?” They murmured. “So bright. How could I let them keep you?”
She swallowed, hard, and the Fae tracked the movement. Too beautiful. So beautiful it hurt.
“I am not a thing to be kept. I’m a person. I have a name. Just let me go back to my class and I’ll—“
“Darling, trust me. I know you have a name. But you’re wrong.”
“About what,” she said, and their eyes crinkled. They leaned in to whisper into her ear, breath cool as wind blowing across a lake. They smelled like salt water and moss.
“I can keep you.”
She jerked, shoved her hands against their chest. It did nothing. Her fingers gripped into their shirt hard enough it hurt, and she pushed harder, meaner, anything, please—
“I won’t let you take me, and I won’t let you keep me. I’ll escape, and I’ll hurt you, and then you’ll never see the outside of a prison again. I’m not going to be some docile thing for you—“
“I would never want you to be docile,” the Fae interrupted. “I just want you to be mine.”
“That will never happen—“ she swore, and they cut her off with a hand curled around her jaw. They tipped her head up, eyes boring into hers. Their grip tightened.
“Oh sweetheart. Of course it will. For now, though, I’ll give you some help.”
“Let go of me—“
The word they said next rolled off their tongue like the clearest note of music, like sunshine in winter, the sound of her sister’s laughter and the creak of the kitchen table.
The Fae said her name, and the world exploded into colors and sounds and shapes and voices and
The Fae laughed as she slumped into their arms, bones jelly and mind half between delirium and pure, unadulterated joy, false and sugar sweet on her tongue.
“Oh, hello you,” they murmured with amusement. Their hand stayed on her chin, and they pulled her against them, arm wrapping around her waist. They were warm, and that stupid, dazed part of her wanted to stay there forever.
She managed a weak, half muttered curse word, and they pressed a kiss to her forehead.
“God, I’m glad you’re mine. I waited so long to have you.”
She sobbed, and they shushed her, gently.
“Hush, now. I’ll make it better. Everything will be okay, you’ll see. Soon you’ll love it without any magic helping you.”
A tear slipped down her cheek, and they kissed it away. They tucked her limp head into their shoulder.
“It’s okay, love.”
They said her name again.
And she was gone.
The hero woke up with a start, tears streaming down their face as their book went flying. They rubbed their palms against their cheeks angrily, but it did nothing to stop the flow.
Across the room, the villain coughed.
The Hero’s gaze snapped to them, and they regarded the hero calmly.
“Bad dream?”
The hero looked away, embarrassment coloring their cheeks.
“No.”
The villain sighed.
“Good dream, then?”
The hero said nothing, and the villain nodded in understanding.
“I see. Would you like to tell me about it?”
They studied every inch of their room, the silence fidgeting between them like an anxious child, before the words fought their way out.
“I—we, saved the world.”
The villain hummed. “Ah.”
The hero sniffed and tugged the blankets higher on their lap. The book lay forgotten on the floor.
“I can understand the tears, then,” they said sympathetically. The hero let out an unamused laugh.
“No, you can’t.”
“Just because I do not empathize does not mean I cannot understand,” the villain tipped their head. “You have many regrets. That much is clear. It is written upon every move you make. So do not preach understanding, Hero, when I know how you work.”
The hero stiffened.
“I hate you.”
“You hate yourself more,” the villain said conversationally, and the hero’s chest welled with pain.
The silence roiled.
“Yes,” they agreed quietly. “I do.”
The villain tapped their hand once against the door frame.
“I’ll leave you to your dreaming, then, Hero.”
Hero.
Nothing more than a bit of mockery, now.
Their eyes met, the villain’s gaze burning into them, before they turned from the door of the hero’s cell.
They paused. “You cannot change the past, fallen one,” they said softly. And then they were gone.
The hero lay back, and closed their eyes.
Maybe if they tried hard enough, they could bring their dreams into reality. Maybe they could save everyone—could be the hero everyone had worshiped them as. Could rewrite the ending and bring their friends back to life. Could make it so they ended up in a pedestal and not in a cage. So many maybes. The hero dreamed of all of them, constantly. It never really made a difference.
In their cell designed by the villain who had beaten them irrevocably, the hero fell asleep, and outside, the world burned.
Unsaved.
#2 - Traitor
[Villain] started to tremble when [Supervillain] approached them. God, the plan had gone so horribly wrong… They should have never even thought about helping [Hero] to overthrow their nemesis! It was a huge miscalculation from the start.
And now they were the one to pay for it.
[Villain] couldn’t suppress a shiver when [Supervillain] started speaking.
“So…”, their voice was calm, bored almost.
“My inferiors are getting cheeky again, huh? Don’t you remember the last time I had to end one of your little revolts?” [Supervillain] was not bothering to look at [Villain], who did their best to hide the quivering.
They remembered damn well. The only difference was that they stood on the winners’ side back then.
“Tell me…”, [Supervillain] started pacing around them with leisurely steps, “What made you think, it would be different this time?”
[Villain] did not dare to look up. They felt the bile rising in their throat. Their hands started to shake.
Even though they did not see [Supervillain], [Villain] felt the derisive grin that formed on their captors’ features as they saw the physical impact of their words.
When [Supervillain] talked again, their voice had turned into a low whisper, far too close to [Villains] ear. They could not avoid flinching.
“What made you think, I would have more mercy with traitors like you now than I had the last time?”
[Villains] blood turned to ice. They knew [Supervillains] ways of dealing with disloyalty. They saw enough of it in the years they had to work for them. Hadn’t they sworn it to themself back then? To never allow themself to slide in this kind of situation?
…How had they fucked that up so badly?
[Supervillain] stopped, only inches in front of their face. [Villain] lowered their eyes hastily, trying to avoid looking at their old bosses’ cold gaze.
They could hear their own heartbeat. The tremor was taking all over their body.
“Besides…”
[Villain] let out a terrified whimper as a gloved hand harshly grasped their chin, forcing them to look up.
“How does someone like you merge with such an outstanding personality like [Hero]?”
[Villains] eyes widened. How could they know about them? That had been a top-secret information. Even their own people knew nothing about their doings with [Hero]! They had done everything possible to cover the information [Supervillain] seemed to have such easy access to.
“Supporting the enemy is even worse treason than just turning against me…” The grip on their jaw got firmer. [Villain] squealed in pain. “Tell me, [Villain]”, [Supervillains] voice turned dangerously low.
“…What shall we do with a traitor?”
(#6 is for @annalisemarlene56 who sent me the very first request for this blog! Thank you so much, I hope you enjoy! 💕)
#6 - Captured
“Let go of me, you fucking bastards!!”, [Hero] snarled, struggling heavily against the firm grip of the two strangers that dragged them out of their flat.
What was happening here? Had they been found?
[Hero] glanced up towards their kidnappers. They were pushing them through the stairway without any emotion on their faces. As if things like this were part of an everyday-job. “Listen:”, they tried to reason, “I don’t have any money or rich family members to blackmail. I can barely afford my own apartment! So please let me go!!”
“We don’t care about your money.”, one of them stated bluntly. [Hero] looked at them again and noticed the really expensive-looking suits that both of their abductors wore.
Yeah, money seemed to be one of the last things these guys had to care about.
They were pushed through the door and towards a parking lot, farther away from the streets. “H-Hey…”, [Hero] began, gulping. “You don’t have to do this…You know, I have a good friend who can help you to get out of this kind of business and-”
[Hero] flinched when one of their captors pulled out a gun. “You say one more word and I’ll shoot you right here.”, they menaced and looked [Hero] dead in the eye. “You want that?”
Numbly, [Hero] shook their head, quivering hands lifted in the air. Their abductor gestured with the gun. “Move.”
After some minutes of walking, the group approached a big car in the far back. They stopped in front of the vehicle.
“Get in.”, one of the captors commanded.
[Heros] face ashened. “What?”
The lackey lifted the gun: “I said: Get in.”
Without farther protest, [Hero] obeyed. It was senseless to fight. Neither had they a weapon nor an opportunity to flee. Preparing themself for the worst, they softly opened the back door and took in a deep breath before entering the vehicle.
The first thing [Hero] noticed was the cleansiness of the obviously new car. Unintentionally, they thought about their own vehicle in which the rests of their two-weeks-ago-trip to McDonalds were still rotting on the backseats.
For a brief moment, [Hero] nearly felt amused by the comparison, but a smooth voice catapulted them back to reality:
“Please put on your seatbelt.”
They jerked around and met a face too familiar from crime reports and mugshots: [Villain].
Dressed in fancy clothing and jewellery.
…Weren’t they supposed to be in prison?
[Hero] was too baffled to understand the order, so the nationally wanted criminal repeated it for them: “Please put on your seatbelt.” [Villains] voice was polite and steady, not in any way how [Hero] imagined it.
Numbly, their fingers fumbled for the cold piece of metal on their left side, plugging it into the clip shakingly.
“Thank you, safety is important.”, [Villain] stated and turned to the driver. “Let’s go.”
[Heros] head spinned. They were getting captured. They were getting captured by one of the most delinquent individuals in the world and had no idea what to do. Even as the car started, the only thing [Hero] could do was stare at [Villain], who seemed to be the only one enjoying this situation.
“So…”, the criminals voice oozed into [Heros] mind, “First of all, let me thank you for your cooperation. I hope, my people were not too harsh to you?”
[Hero] looked at them dumbly.
What kind of sick game was this?
They tried to read anything from [Villains] smug features, but there was nothing.
[Hero] ignored their captors question. “Why am I here?”, they asked instead, trying to collect themself.
“…Are you… Are you going to kill me?”
To their surprise, [Villain] raised their eyebrows and let out a little snicker. “Kill you? Oh no.”, they laughed, “If I wanted to see you dead I wouldn’t have bothered to get you here.”
“What the hell do you want then?!”, [Hero] asked currishly. They’ve had enough of this fucking guessing game.
[Villain] just smiled and held out their hand: “To be honest: I need your help, [Hero]. You are on my radar since a fairly long time now and the powers you posess are beyond everything I have ever seen.”
[Hero] stared at them in utter disbelief.
…How did they know about their powers?
“Aw, don’t look at me like that! You know what I am talking about.”, [Villain] stated cheerfully, still extending their hand. “No false modesty!”
So, they had been found. And of all things by a varmint like [Villain]. [Hero] glanced out of the tinted window, past their captors head. They had not even tried to remember the route the car was taking. Shit.
Unimpressed by [Heros] silence, [Villain] kept looking at them with this unnerving friendlieness. When it was clear that [Hero] wouldn’t answer, [Villain] just shrugged and put down their neglected hand: “You are not good at taking compliments, huh?”
“Just tell me what you want.”
[Villains] smile grew wider. “Well...” They made a dramatic pause. “You are the key… To help me defeat [Supervillain]!”
…
What?
“Come on, a little more enthusiasm, please!”
[Hero] shook their head, face expressionless. “I won’t help you.”
What did they even think?
Strangely enough, [Villain] looked at them with a pityful sympathy. “Sorry, but I think you will.”, they said. The confident tone made [Hero] frown.
“If you know my abilities as good as you claim, you will also know, that you can’t force me to help you with your craving for power.”, [Hero] replied. They grew irritated with their captors strange serenity.
[Villain] gave them an ominous smile. There was something sinister in their eyes that [Hero] hadn’t noticed before. “I can force everybody to help me with my craving for power.”
Before [Hero] could say anything, [Villain] grabbed them by the neck and harshly pulled them towards their face. [Hero] yelped in surprise.
“You will be working for me sooner than you think, my friend.”, [Villain] murmured. “I have the resources to make you my lackey in less than a week.”
[Hero] could not surpress a shudder. “L-Let go of me!”, they hissed, turning their head away. “I won’t do this! Not for you!”
[Villain] removed their hand, leaning back into their seat. “We’ll see soon enough.”
A really bad feeling started rising in [Heros] chest. They shifted uncomfortably, forcing themself to look away from their captor.
Even though they tried to resist it, [Villains] words echoed through their head.
‘I have the resources to make you my lackey in less than a week.’
[Hero] clenched their fists.
No. They would not help them. Never.
They would be strong enough for everything [Villain] had in store for them.
Wouldn’t they?