Curate, connect, and discover
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3
The soft hum of cooling fans and the clacking of keys were the only sound in the small and dimly lit room. A CCTV feed trained on a small kennel displayed on a screen in the far corner. The villain glanced over at the first sign of movement.
Their patient was waking up, but they would have to wait. The villain was on the verge of a discovery.
Their patient's blood had been genetically modified. Expertly, gorgeously. Though the effects seemed to be leveling out over time, their muscular growth was abnormally rapid. Any small injuries showed accelerated healing.
The growth affected their larynx, unfortunately. Given the patient was able to preserve a certain level of cognition, other organs adjusted appropriately...
Loss of speech was a... Strange side effect.
The bones and muscles were proportionately mutated, practically symmetrical. Organs matched the rapid growth of the body. Their patient grew into a theoretically sustainable form. The fact that they survived at all was a miracle.
Their patient might not be so lucky if they attempt to revert back.
Whoever was responsible did not stop at one. The mutation was much too precise and refined. This was a team and decades of research. Money.
So, who had the resources for this kind of human experimentation?
The MRI offered something of a clue. A small device, implanted at the base of the patient's skull. Whoever set this transformation into motion expected the patient to roam free. The villain extracted the device too late, well over 24 hours. It was active.
Someone would come to collect their experiment soon.
The villain best prepare for their guest.
-
The hero paced the kennel with growing panic. They had misjudged the villain's capacity for harm, clearly. They kept running their hands along the stitches on the back of their head.
Breath in. Breath out.
They needed a plan of escape.
The floor and walls were solid concrete. Thick iron bars reenforced the door. There was a small gap between the door and floor. A much larger gap between the iron bars and the ceiling. Not large enough to squeeze through.
The first rule of imprisonment, find your captor's motive. Their eyes flicked to the CCTV trained on their kennel. There wasn't enough room to escape, but their inhumanly long claws could reach the camera.
They smiled devilishly. If their captor wanted to spy, they'd have to work for it. They climbed up the iron bars and reached for the small camera. Their claws clamped around the device, and they yanked.
Wiring crackled as the connections snapped.
They threw the camera on the concrete as hard as they could. Surprisingly sturdy.
Good.
They grabbed the camera and beat it against the ground, over and over, until it cracked into was a mess of circuitry and plastic. They imagined the villain's skull.
Shouting down the hall, followed by a loud THUD.
Silence.
The hero readied themselves to lunge, but they stopped short.
Their breath caught at the unexpected figure before them.
"Hero, it's me. I've come to save you."
The hero sobbed in relief.
Superhero.
AN// Thank you so much for reading and asking to be tagged @sausages-things @whump-till-ya-jump @jumpywhumpywriter @galaxysmask !!!
Not many villains are brave enough—or stupid enough—to come straight through the front doors of the agency, so the agency never thought to put up anything more secure than a barrier for heroes to scan through on their way in.
The villain saunters in, hops straight over the barrier, and loudly demands, “Which of you assholes is meant to be [Hero]’s boss?”
The heroes leap on them, of course, and twenty against one is barely a fight. The hero’s boss, it turns out, is just the guy they wanted to see anyway.
“Why are you just strolling through my agency?” the superhero asks incredulously.
“Someone's clearly dramatised my entrance. I didn’t get past reception,” the villain corrects with a scowl. “And it’s not my fault you lot have the same amount of security as a train station. Anyway, that’s not why I’m here. I’m here to tear you a new one.”
The hero standing behind them makes a noise dangerously resembling laugh. Even the superhero quirks an eyebrow disbelievingly. The villain is sitting in his office in cuffs, sure, but this is only the beginning of what will be an ass kicking.
“You villains are so violent.” The superhero tuts, opening a tin box next to him with a shake of his head. “Has anything happened to warrant this so-called new one tearing, or is this just routine?”
“I’m glad you asked. Did you not notice [Hero] was missing?”
“Oh, yeah I did.” A biscuit comes out of the tin and promptly disappears into the superhero’s mouth. “Are they with you then?”
The disgusted silence the villain leaves is a second too long. “… Yes.”
The superhero nods mindlessly. “Cool.”
This silence is even longer. The villain can hear the hero behind them shuffle awkwardly. “You don’t care,” they say flatly.
“[Hero]’s a rookie,” the superhero offers with a shrug. “Catch one of my best, and I’ll consider coming to visit sometime. I don’t send rescue parties for just anyone.”
The villain can only stare at him in disbelief as he nonchalantly fishes about for another biscuit. Villains would never do that. Villains leave no man behind. The idea that they could be trapped somewhere, in enemy territory, with no promise of at least someone coming for them, is a horror enough to haunt their nightmares.
The villain really thought they’d done something when they’d managed to catch the hero. The hero was scared, of course, but the villain had put that down to the usual. A hero in a villain’s grasp won’t be without injury for long. But the hero had had a certain defeated look in their eye as well, and it’s only now that the villain is realising that that was probably because someone like them disappearing into a villain’s lair means they aren’t getting out.
The cuffs rattle slightly, and the villain heaves a deep breath to stop their hands from shaking. “I've heard them crying every night, knowing you’re not coming for them,” they snap coldly. “You’re heartless.”
The superhero can just about be bothered to meet their eye for a second before his interest diverts back to the food in his hand. “You don’t become a superhero by loving everyone, [Villain]. Do we have a cell set up?”
The hero behind the villain clears their throat. “We do.”
The superhero waves them off, and that’s the end of the conversation. The hero shoves the villain into a cell, and several hours later finds the back of that cell blown clean out with the villain’s friends at the detonator.
The villain never had a doubt they would be set free—they always are. Villains may not be looked upon favourably, but having a posse of like-minded outcasts can make some real ride-or-dies.
-
The hero wipes their eyes when they hear the door at the end of the corridor opening, rubbing their sleeve against their nose in an attempt to look a little less pathetic. They glance up to realise it’s not just the villain, but several of their friends too, all watching them with curiosity. Their stomach drops.
“You got it bad, huh?” the villain says lightly.
The hero doesn’t know what to say to that. They turn their gaze down at their hands to avoid everyone’s burning stares.
There’s a heavy clunk, and out the corner of their eye they can see the cell door swinging open. The villain shoots them a smile as they look up confusedly.
“We were wondering if you’d like to come with us,” the villain continues. “I mean, you’re welcome to stay in here, in the cold and the damp, like a hero. But, y’know…”
The villain shrugs. “We don’t leave people behind, I’ll say that much.”
A hero should never consider an offer from a villain. It’s a trap, the superhero always said. It’s common sense, it’s the right thing to do, it’s what a hero would do.
They didn’t think heroes were left at the mercy of their enemies by their own either, but here they are.
The hero wipes at their face again and clears their throat, painfully aware of how much they’ve been crying. “Um,” they say, their voice a horrible rasp. “O-Okay.”
They all cheer as the villain reaches in to pull them out. Someone hands them a thick jacket. “Put it on,” someone else says. “You’re in the gang now!”
It almost feels like they’re happy to see the hero as one of them. It’s a new feeling, and one the hero finds they like.
Part 1 Part 2
The henchmen dragged the hero out to the hall by their collar, snarling and snapping. They tried unsuccessfully to wrestle them onto a gurney, the hero's panic only matched by their raw fury. The villain watched on with a reverent fascination.
The hero glared with wild eyes as the villain calmly approached.
"Darling, you'd best behave." The villain reached to brush the hero's face. "I'd hate to muzzle such a gorgeous creature."
The hero growled in challenge.
"You want to be human again, don't you?"
An uncertain whine.
"Yes, that's right. I can help you if you stop fighting me."
This was a mistake. This was a huge mistake, the hero thought frantically. If the villain made them human, they would not let them go free.
Who else would help them, though? The Agency? Their understaffed, in-network hospital? They could be stuck like this the rest of their life. They had to trust that they would have a shot at escaping later.
The hero swallowed hard and laid back on the gurney.
"I thought so."
The henchmen exchanged glances and clamored to affix the straps. They pushed the gurney into a cold and sterile room. An exhaust fan whined in the corner. Surgical equipment laid out on a small table.
"Don't worry, darling, we're just running some tests today," the villain said, pulling out a small razor. They trimmed small patches of fur and grabbed a syringe.
The hero tried to pull away, but the straps were firm. They felt the telltale prick, and squeezed their eyes shut.
"Blood sample," the villain explained. They filled several vials.
The henchmen pulled up some kind of machine and stuck little wires all over the hero's arms and legs. The villain typed something into a laptop and the hero felt another prick.
"You'll tell me if you feel something, won't you, darling?"
A jolt shot through their arm. The hero yelped.
"Good. Very good."
Another prick. Jolt. The hero's eyes watered. This went on for a while.
"No discernible nerve damage," the villain said, very pleased. "Excellent response time."
They continued to poke and prod them for a while, looking at their teeth, shining a light in their eyes, feeling the pads of their palms.
"You're not claustrophobic, are you?"
The villain began wheeling them towards a narrow tube-shaped device. The hero began to struggle again.
The hero had been in vents and crawl spaces and tight corridors before. They'd encountered walls that closed in on them, been trapped in a sinking car, and once had to be cut out of a drainage pipe by a rescue team.
All these experiences did not do favors to their anxiety response. They began struggling despite themselves, the straps digging into their flesh.
There was a high beeping noise beside them. Their heartbeat was being monitored. When did that happen.
The villain stopped the gurney. "Sh, shhh-sh, hush now, you're safe."
The hero struggled, because no they certainly were not, half the times they were trapped in dangerous situations was thanks to the villain--
Another prick.
"Rest now," The villain said, petting them gently.
The hero awoke back in their kennel. They had no idea how much time had passed. They felt a pain in the back of their head.
Stitches.
What had villain done while they were out?
Part 4
AN// Thank you for reading and asking to be tagged @sausages-things and I hope you enjoyed! If anyone else would like to be added to the tag list, please let me know! (or if you want to be removed, please also don't hesitate to let me know!) I'm hoping to finish part 4 in the next couple of weeks!
How the Turns Have Tabled
Hero approached the cell with all the feet-dragging reluctance of someone who was in way over their head. They dug through their pocket for the key, mumbling something about stupidity and youth mortality under their breath. A quick glance through the small window nestled in the door revealed a form unmoving laid out in the corner.
To their minor relief, it appeared their guest was still out cold.
The hinges squeaked as Hero slowly pushed open the door. They watched closely for any movement and saw none, so they continued.
Once inside, they dropped a bundle of fabric at the feet of the sleeping figure and left a plastic bottle and an aluminum package on the ground. They were back out the door quickly and the lock clicked back into place just as fast.
Hero turned away from the door and let out a quiet breath as they moved away.
A few steps in, a creak sounded from behind them.
Shit.
Hero froze, then spoke calmly into the stale air,“The exits out back.”
Lowly, a gruff voice responded, “Not that easy.”
Hero winced.
“Worth a shot.”
By the time their hand shot to their belt and they made to spin around, Villain had already closed the distance. Their knife was knocked from their hand the second it was drawn. The villain kicked it away in the same move he used to grab the hero’s wrist. Hero used their free hand to punch him in the face, landing a hard hit before Villain used his leverage to twist, forcing their arm behind their back and shoving them face-first into the wall.
Hero groaned into the cinder block, “Fuck my life.”
They would not have even realized that they had said that aloud had it not been for the confirmation of a deep but quiet chuckle.
Fingers curled lightly into their scalp as Villain spoke, “Other hand.”
Hero squeezed their eyes shut and offered up their free hand into the borderline-painful grip behind them.
“You want to tell me where the ties are?”
Hero turned their cheek against the wall so their jaw was free to move with the words.
“Second shelf from the bottom, other wall.”
They were lifted from the concrete and pulled backwards to the opposite side of the room. A plastic tie soon zipped into place, pinning their wrists together before the villain shifted his grip to their arm to lead them forward.
“In.”
They stepped through the door into the dimly-lit cell, and Hero scowled at the lock hanging broken off the latch.
“Sit,” he ordered with a shove towards where the crumpled blanket rested on the stripped down cot.
The hero stumbled but did as they were told, settling with their back against the wall and feet planted firmly on the floor.
They watched as Villain dragged in a folding chair, flipping it around in front of him to plant a leg on either side and sit backwards, conveniently blocking the doorway.
“Kidnapping, huh?” The villain begun to question, “Is that what you do now?”
Hero leveled their eyes on the blank sheet that was the adjacent wall in lieu of a response. Villain tilted his head at the silence and leveled a disappointed glare at the hero.
“Don’t make me come over there.”
At that, Hero dragged their gaze slowly to the man in the chair.
“I don’t suppose you’ll believe you walked in here of your own free will?”
“Right,” the villain leaned forward, placing his elbows on the seat back and planting his chin on his palms. “And the lock was for decoration.”
“Obviously, given how easily it broke.”
The distaste shown on the hero’s face suggested that they would be having more than a few words with Masterlock customer service.
Villain grinned almost imperceptibly.
“I must say, this is giving my style, not yours.”
“Yeah, well,” Hero bit their lip and averted their eyes again, “shit happens.”
They took the time to notice all the numerous cobwebs in the room before Villain opened his mouth again.
Oddly enough, he wasn’t moving his tongue to push for an explanation.
“You know, they say mimicry is the highest form of flattery.”
Hero, taken slightly aback, could only find the highly dignified words, “Fuck off.”
Instead of lashing out like the hero had predicted with muscles tensed, Villain simply pointed out, “You’re the one who brought me here. I think I might just stick around and find out why.”
With that, he stood. The chair slid across the floor and into the wall as he pushed off.
“It’s in your best interest to answer, so I’d suggest doing that.”
Hero did not dare take their eyes off his form as he approached. He towered over the low-lying cot, and Hero may or may not have forgotten to breathe as he leaned in.
“Or have you forgotten your position here, now?”
Hot breath warmed their ear and Hero bit their tongue.
“You thought you could lock me up?”
“I…made an error in judgment.” Hero spoke carefully, suppressing a shiver.
Another chuckle had Hero silently begging for a Time Machine. An arm was planted on either side of them, leaving them feeling like a bird in a cage, or an ant under a microscope.
“I sure hope the five minutes of success didn’t get to your head,” Villain spoke with faux pity, lips slightly pouted in obvious mockery.
“I think they took five years off my life, actually,” Hero admitted, figuring it was probably clear at this point how they felt about their decision to… well, abduct the villain.
“It sure sounds like you’ve learned your lesson, then.”
Hero almost cheered when Villain rose back to his full height, out of their immediate personal space. That was, until he continued.
“But really, it is best to be certain.”
“How, exactly, do you plan on being certain?” Hero inquired carefully, not that they really wanted to know the answer. Their heart beat a rapid warning inside of their chest.
Villain tapped his chin thoughtfully before a familiar grin spread slowly across his face.
“Don’t worry, I’ve got just the idea.”
Worrying did not even begin to cover the fear that sparked in the hero’s chest at that statement.
“Sit tight,” commanded the villain as he sauntered out the door, not bothering to replace the lock or even so much as close the door.
The hero was left to gawk at his abrupt departure from their place in the corner, unable to gracefully rise and follow him with arms stuck behind them as they were.
A few seconds passed, and they slumped as the adrenaline finally started to drain out of them.
They breathed out into the quiet air as the villain’s footsteps receded, “I am going to die so young.”