Really wish the ST fandom would stop throwing around the term "lobotomy." Can we please stop making light of that severely ableist procedure? 😭 Y'all do realize that has a horrific history, right? And continued to be performed all the way up til 1967? This is very recent history and there are still lobotomized people alive to this day.
(Also please stop throwing around the terms schizophrenic, psychotic, delusional, etc please and thank you. Psychosis is a serious spectrum of disorders and people with psychotic disorders don't deserve you making light of their condition.)
cw: noncon, lobotomy, noncon in front of someone, main character death, dead dove do not eat
“You could have done this anywhere else, you know,” Villain said, eyes tracking the heroes as they entered. Both were over six feet tall, and built in proportion. “A jail cell, one of those bright clinical rooms. Hell, even a chair would help lessen the effect you’ve got going on here.”
Silence. They weren’t bothering to answer him. If Villain kept talking, he could pretend this was an interrogation. He could ignore the knife hilt poking out of Hero’s belt. How violently his heart slammed against his ribs.
“You know, I thought it was the suits that made you look bigger, Hero, but you really are just built like a shithouse.”
“And you’re a lot less intimidating when you’re stripped down to nothing but your underpants,” Sidekick commented.
“Yeah, um, could you at least turn off the AC? I won’t really be able to answer if—”
“Shut up.”
Villain’s face twitched. Even in just a t-shirt and pants, Hero still cut an imposing figure, towering above Villain as he stood in front of the bed. The short curls, round face, and light scruff did not soften the intense anger smoldering in his features.
Steadying himself on his chained elbows, Villain tilted his head up to meet Hero’s gaze, shaking dark, tangled hair out of his eyes.
“Twenty-four victims,” Hero said at last, “and you’re trying to tell me you don’t deserve this.”
“Look, it’s not like I was some kind of serial killer, alright? I was humane about it!”
“Do you think that makes it any better?” Hero growled.
“… Yes?”
Hero drew back his fist, smashing it into his face. Villain’s head whipped to the side, sputtering out curses.
“Do you think it made it any better for their families?” Hero yelled.
“I— they died with dignity! I killed them in combat!”
“Do you remember how Martin Barnes begged when you shot him point blank? He was an old man, you had disabled him with a bullet to the leg, February 5.”
Villain spat out a glob of blood. “I was—finishing the job.”
“Oh yeah? How about Trisha Saperstein?”
“What the fu—who?”
“She was barely old enough to drive, and you crushed her motorbike in a highway chase, October 12.”
Sidekick drew closer to the edge of the bed. Villain felt even smaller trapped between them.
“Did I kill someone you loved?” he stammered. “A-a lover? Your child?”
“Do you think I’m that selfish?”
Hero’s voice dropped to a threatening lull. His eyes glowed with fury. Villain froze, barely daring to shake his head.
“No.”
“You know who I was?”
Villain squirmed, tugging uselessly against the shackles holding his ankles to the metal frame.
“I was the one who had to give the news to their families. Their loved ones, each and every one. I was the one who saw their first expression of grief, of shock, of agony.”
A shadow passed over Hero’s face. For a moment, the anger was eclipsed by how tired he was from carrying that burden. There was a glimpse of the empathy that the victim’s families must have seen, before his eyes hardened once more.
“You were the one who caused all that pain, Villain.”
He circled around the other side of the bed. Sidekick remained where they stood, watching the proceedings. Their face was expressionless, unreadable.
“Okay, listen.” Villain began, “Y-yeah, I did kill those people, I did—but I never took got any sadistic pleasure out of it!” He cut off with a curse, as he felt the mattress dip behind him. a lot. “I never fu—fuck— I never fucked them. And I never drew out their suffering! I wasn’t—”
“You really think being a murderer is better than being a rapist?” Hero demanded, “That you’re better because you put an end to their life?”
Fingers dug into Villain’s side, burning hot on his shivering flesh. A knife clicked open, and the blade pressed against his paper-thin boxers, digging into the meat of his thigh. Villain lurched forward with a broken gasp, frantically trying to look over his shoulder. With a single pull, Hero ripped the knife through the underwear, then tore it off at the waistband.
“N-no, get the fuck off me.” Villain thrashed harder, voice rising, but the restraints gave nothing. “You’re sick! I never did this!”
“I had to help so many through their suffering,” Hero murmured. He spat on his hand. “I deserve this one act of revenge.”
He shoved in one finger. Villain snarled, grinding his head into the mattress.
“If this damns me, then God forgive me.”
That was all the preparation Hero gave. Villain yelled, clawing at the bedsheets, curses falling from cracked lips. Hero kept pushing roughly, relentlessly, until he was inside Villain.
“I’m not getting any pleasure out of this, am I?”
If he didn’t breathe, maybe that would make the pain less.
“Am I?” Hero bellowed, slapping him with one meaty hand.
“No,” Villain ground out.
“And does that make this feel any better?” Hero demanded, yanking Villain’s hips flush.
An ear-splitting shriek filled the air, followed by several staccato gasps.
“Answer me, you degenerate piece of shit!”
“No! I-it doesn’t, it doesn’t! I’m sorry!”
“Don’t lie to him,” Sidekick warned.
“I am!” Villain wailed, “I am, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, please. It hurts!”
“Oh, it hurts? Do you think it hurt when you burned off Jenson’s face? When you shoved two swords in Martinez like a shish kebab? How about when you flipped Rinalto off the bridge and they crashed against the rocks, huh? Do you think that fucking hurt?
Hero yelled louder with every question, shouting over Villain’s cries of pain. Blood dripped down onto the sheets.
Hero’s hand gripped his thoat, dragging Villain up to his knees. He arched Villain back, painfully, over his gut and pinned him against his chest. Every movement shifted the man’s dick deeper inside of him, splitting him apart. Villain choked on a sob.
“Please, please, you’re better than this.” he begged, trying to lock eyes with Sidekick. “You help people, don’t you? You give second chances. I-if you let me go I swear—I swear— I won’t kill anymore. I won’t hurt anyone, just don’t—”
Sidekick drew close, and for one horrifying moment, Villain thought they were going to fuck him too.
Then they pulled out a long, slender needle, and he suddenly wished they were.
With a primal scream, he threw his head as far as he could. Hero gripped him by the roots of his hair, dragging him back to face the needle approaching his eye.
“This is humane, isnt it? Quicker?” Hero growled in his ear, “You won’t remember anything after this. Brain dead is basically the same as being dead, right?”
Villain shook violently, his body wracked by endless sobs. He stared at the needle, eyes blown wide with panic, terrified tears streaming down his face.
“Your last memories will be blubbering in the hands of your enemy, and a quick, brutal agony, just like all of your victims. The difference is, nobody will grieve for your sorry ass.”
“No, no, no—”
Sidekick pushed the needle behind his eye. A spike of pain, a broken scream, and the world fractured into a hundred shards of agony.
