Tis, I the weirdly obsessive fanatic of your blog. Yes, I have slipped into your asks. No, you cannot get rid of me, I will forever be a piece of gum stuck to your shoe.
Anyway with that being said, (I dont know if you are open to part two requests but if you are) may I request a part two of “One to go”? I know you’ve posted it very recently but I’m a selfish, greedy fool who is in desperate need of your writing.
Sincerely, the weirdly obsessive fanatic.
(Seriously though, if I’m getting annoying feel free to spray me with a pesticide.)
The room smelled of ash and wood, warm, orange light illuminated the room, flickering shadows on the walls. The walls were painted in an ashy kind of brown, as in their father’s old studio back at the hills, tainted in a light yellow undertone. Then, they concluded, it could not be the Hero’s base Civilian last remembered being, they wouldn’t smoke and leave ash roaming around for long enough to taint inside of their building, the press would talk.
Civilian was finding themselves counting aimlessly the cracks and lumps up in the ceiling looking to dissipate the fuzziness they still felt, the usual sensation of being barely woken up, known and common, still, that time, it felt heavier, harder to break off of.
Something was off, many things. Their head was heavy, and an odd feeling settled deep inside their stomach, they could identify the reason for neither, swallowing harshly to soothe the dryness on their throat, and trying with that to ground themselves a little better.
Warm fingers settled over their freezing skin, holding their right arm carefully, thumb caressing over her skin steadily, almost mechanically.
“You’re awake,” a voice said, a voice they remembered having heard from somewhere, even when the where was still quite blurry “I’m glad, how are you…?”
It was nausea, they came to find the unsettledness in their stomach, as they sat up straight, throwing their head over the side of the bed and emptying their stomach on the dark wooden floor.
…On the dark wooden floors.
There was no such thing in their home not in the base of the friend they had so stupidly go to visit, it wasn't worth it, everyone said, with blood and ash constantly staining the carpets and marble, fancy, expensive wood was simply a bad idea, harder to clean, easier to stain.
They sat up back straight after thinking themselves finished, holding their arms close with their hands, aiming to prevent the shivering from both the morning coldness and the fear building in their back and their arms and their legs.
“You’re all right, Civilian,” Supervillian said, voice calm for such a situation “oh dear, you certainly can’t handle sedatives very well, I’ll write it down.”
“Se…sedatives?” their voice trembled.
The other stood, gracefully reaching for a glass on the nightstand, handing it to the Civilian, who watched it closely yet never really took it.
“None of that now, you need to drink something, you’ve been out for two days and a night,” they said, pushing further against the other’s hands, Civilian shook their head, pushing it right back at them.
Supervillian sighed, gulping down a drink from the glass, then offering it back again.
“It was not me who drugged you.”
After being offered it yet again, Civilian grabbed it quickly, drinking it down to wash the taste left in their mouth. They took a deep breath, and stared back at the criminal sitting so casually before them.
No one said anything for a minute.
“Of course they were not!” of course, they repeated in their head, trying to remember the events of the night prior.
“You don’t remember, do you?” the criminal asked, brow lifted and smile amused. “You were laying on the secondary living room when I reached the place, they kept the fire on, so very considerate, smoke gathering around a very closed room with a very much locked door.”
Civilian laid back, nausea threatening to return. They stayed focused or so they tried, in the other’s words.
“You did say some very interesting things, probably was the fever more than the sedative speaking.”
“What did I say?” Civilian asked, heart racing at the thought of saying something they shouldn’t have with such a character listening.
“You talked about Hero quite a bit, how excited you were for them to return, you didn’t quite finish telling them about your discovery, the DNA fragment which predisposes, after a certain activation through epigenetic changes, the appearance of powers, if I remember correctly.”
“I’m guessing they weren’t a fan of your discovery, circumstances given.”
But of course there was an explanation, Civilian thought, an event of great relevance between them telling Hero about their investigation, being locked in a room full of smoke, and Supervillian getting to them. They were not even sure if what the criminal said was true or a very elaborated story to make them hesitate andescape.
They wouldn’t, of course, they had to leave, they’d already talked enough.
“I’d love to have that head of yours on my side.”
Civilian threw up once more.
Supervillain stared at the security cameras in their office.
First escape attempt, three hours and forty-five minutes after leaving them to sleep.
They had to go catch their new official personal scientist.
I am, in fact, open to requests for second parts, even more so for one that I was really excited about doing.
It feels a bit strange that people are really liking what I write, I'm quite happy about it.
Thank you very much for the request :) I hope it lives to the expectation, maybe I will continue it to a third part with a bit more Supervillain-Civilian closeness
By the way, rereading some pieces I've seen that I have some typos and grammatical mistakes, I've been correcting them as I go, sorry :(
