snippet #12 - Promises
It was quiet tonight on the grounds outside Villain’s lair. Not a single curious civilian or annoying sidekick spotted on patrol yet. It felt like a hero word, ‘patrol’. But Villain and their henchmen weren’t on the lookout for crime—quite the opposite, really. Usually Villain waited until their employees had already checked everything before sweeping the area themself, but they were feeling a bit restless. Maybe a nighttime walk would bring them some peace.
Plus, morale was higher when they did the menial work alongside their underlings. People saw that their boss could get down and dirty and wasn’t a high-and-mighty tyrant, they were more likely not to quit. Villain prided themself as being the criminal with the highest employee retention rate in the city.
They whistled contentedly, running a hand along the smooth, shiny side of the building. Yes, this was a good night. A bright moon, no cloud cover, and they’d completed a successful bank robbery earlier that afternoon. Maybe they could order some pizza to celebrate. The henchmen would like that. But first, they had to finish their rounds. Villain turned the last corner, expecting to see a manicured lawn and maybe a bird or two. Instead, they saw blood.
It was splattered erratically across the grass, like someone had thrown around water balloons filled with red paint. There wasn’t that much of it, but it still made Villain take a step back, brows furrowing. Who had done this? Was it some sort of practical joke by their underlings? If so, it wasn’t a very good one. They looked around for any other signs, walking forward again to investigate. They weren’t too concerned. It was probably nothing, just a prank, they thought—until they saw the body.
Someone was lying on their side, unmoving, their clothes stained and ripped. They’d been hard to spot in the shadow of the hideout. As Villain stared, they noticed a few familiarities. The shade of their tangled hair, the curve of their shoulder, that… the color drained from Villain’s face.
“No,” they whispered, approaching the person slowly. “No. No, no, no. Please, no. Don’t let it be them. Don’t let it be them.”
Don’tletitbethemdon’tletitbethemdon’tletitbethemitcan’tbethem-
They knelt down beside the body, heart pounding, breathing fast and shaky. Carefully, they placed a hand on the person’s shoulder, pulled it gently toward themself, and looked into the unresponsive face.
No.
“Hero.” The sound was torn out of Villain involuntarily, small and hopeless. “Oh, Hero, what happened to you?”
The main source of the blood seemed to be cuts that littered Hero’s arms, legs, and torso, and the large gash across their forehead that was still leaking red. Bruises had blossomed bluish-purple around their neck and wrists. Numbly, Villain traced a finger down Hero’s cheek, along tracks in the grime that could only have been made by tears.
Villain’s ears were ringing, an empty feeling developing in the pit of their stomach. In their mind, they were screaming, roaring, raging. But that wouldn’t help Hero. They had to stand up, to call for a henchman, but their legs and mouth didn’t seem to be working. Check their vitals, a voice shouted in their mind. Okay. They could do that. They could do that. With a trembling hand, they placed two fingertips at Hero’s pulse point, trying not to put too much pressure on their bruised throat.
For a few terrifying seconds, they couldn’t find it. But then they felt a weak beat, slow but steady. The wave of relief that overcame Villain was so strong it nearly knocked them over. They were alive. And they would survive this. They had to. Villain would make sure of it.
As carefully as they could, Villain slid their hands underneath Hero’s shoulders and knees. Then, they slowly rose to their feet, watching Hero closely for any signs of pain or awareness. Their face remained motionless, devoid of expression besides a slight furrow in their brow. It took effort for Villain to lift their gaze from Hero’s closed eyes and begin to hurry back to the entrance.
As they turned the corner to the front side of the lair, Righthand, who was standing guard, saw them coming and lowered their crossed arms.
“I’ve initiated the change, sir. You’re the last-“ They blinked at the sight of Hero’s limp body in Villain’s arms. “Is that-“
“Get Medic and tell them to meet me in the clinic immediately,” Villain ordered. “Tell them it’s an emergency.”
Righthand nodded. “Right away, sir.” They tapped their earpiece and began speaking in a low voice. As Villain approached the door, Righthand opened it for them, eyes widening as they realized the severity of Hero’s condition. Villain didn’t even glance at them, focused solely on continuing forward and keeping Hero stable.
Hero would be okay. They kept repeating it over and over like a mantra in their head. Hero would be okay. They would be. And when Villain was sure Hero was safe, they would find whoever did this to them.
“I promise,” they murmured. I promise, as long as you’re okay. I promise.
I promise.
part 2
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