Intoxicating Fear (III)
Instant Regret
Read part one here // masterpost // continued from here
***
Kit jerked awake suddenly, letting out a sharp cry as he moved, the motion pulled on his arms without mercy. His feet slid forward, slipping down the basin and Kit hissed as the cuffs snapped against his wrists, taking all his weight on his shoulders.
“Ugh, fuck,” he whimpered, struggling to get his feet under him again. Fuck, that hurt. His head was filled with a heavy, opaque fog, like a thunderstorm was brewing, the pressure hung low over his eyes in warning. A shiver ran down his spine as he raised his pained gaze to the concrete wall in front of him.
He didn’t get a moment of blissful ignorance as the grey walls stared back at him unflinchingly. He couldn’t pretend that maybe this was all some bad dream, and he’d wake up in his bed safe and sound. He was still here. He was actually taken by Omen and strung up like a pig for slaughter. Every one of his muscles ached from being left in this position for too long, his shoulders screamed at him every time he tried in vain to alleviate the pain.
How long had Omen left him here? He was parched, he realised as he swallowed. His saliva like sand as he glanced around the room as far as he could see. His head pounded when he tried to look out his periphery, a flash of intense, glaring light ignited in his brain when he did. He groaned, squeezing his eyes shut and hung boneless.
His power buzzed through his veins, humming under his skin, mocking him. It was cruel. It would have been kinder if Omen had just put him in power dampeners. At least then he could pretend he couldn’t do anything to save himself. As it was, his power was there; he could use it. But, if he wanted to stay awake and alert, he couldn’t. He didn’t exactly enjoy frying himself with his own electricity, but what could he do against the villain that destroyed Noble? He wasn’t even a proper Hero yet, he hadn’t debuted officially… not that he minded, but if Omen could take down the Superhero of the city what hope did Kit have against him?
Kit shook his head. No.
No.
He refused to be so easily defeated. He wasn’t going to help Omen by destroying his hope. He’d get out of here. He would! He’d get away from Omen… somehow. Pins and needles erupted in his legs, and he grimaced as he began to shake them out. He gasped, grasping pathetically at the cuffs as he almost slipped again but caught himself in time. He glared down at the basin of water. He’d start with that; he couldn’t do anything about the cuffs right now.
At least he had a moment of peace from the villain. His feet were fully submerged in the clear water up to his ankles. It was just a normal looking basin. He should be able to kick it over. He glanced up, trying to get a grip of the chains but he couldn’t reach them. Fuck. Fine. He lifted a leg and kicked the edge of the basin, but it didn’t budge. He tried again. All it did was splash some water out. Kit frowned, leaned forward to get a better look then winced as his arms groaned in the chains.
“Ugh, FUCK!”
The edges of the basin were bolted down into the ground, or, no, not the ground, some other heavy thing, like a wooden platform.
Fine. The water wasn’t going anywhere but that doesn’t mean Kit had to stay in it.
Carefully he lifted a foot and set his sole on the edge of the basin and tested putting weight on it. It slipped down the edges into the water with a weak thunk.
Alright. New plan.
Kit lifted his other foot and ran it down his rolled-up trousers, drying it off slightly before trying again. He loosed a breath as he got his foot up on the ledge and nearly cried in relief as the weight in his arms lessened.
Okay. Okay. Now the other foot.
He could do this, Kit nodded to himself, bracing his shoulders as he held his weight on his arms above his head and lifted the other foot out of the water, drying it on his trousers again. The moment he got his second foot on the side of the basin, balancing on his opposite ankle, he almost sank with the relief in his arms. The pressure alleviated, he felt as light as a feather, as free as a bird… in a cage, but still.
Kit remained as still as he could, basking in his brief respite.
Oh god that feels so good. He just needed to enjoy it right now. He was okay. This he could deal with. Kit closed his eyes and took a couple easy deep breaths. Slowly in through the nose, long and deep, expanding his chest and filling his lungs with sweet, stress-free air.
Holding it there for a moment.
Then a drawn-out exhale until his entire body deflated like a balloon.
And again.
And again.
He repeated this for another while before he felt a little better, his head a little lighter, his shoulders less stiff. His head cleared enough so he could finally take stock of his situation properly. He glanced up at his wrists to see exactly how they were strung above his head. The metal cuffs were padlocked to a chain that ran up to a hook in the ceiling. The hook curved in and around and it was far too high for Kit to even think about trying to get the chain free.
Which meant for the moment his arms were stuck above his head. Okay. That’s okay… that’s fine. A sudden hot flare of panic reared its mighty head in his gut, but he pushed it back down. He was trapped. There was nothing he could do. Panicking right now wouldn’t help him. He just needed to pause and breathe… panic only benefits the enemy, that was one of Noble’s lessons. One of the lessons Kit learned on the streets as well.
Kit looked down to his feet again. He risked stepping a foot down onto the platform the basin was attached to, but it stretched his arms awkwardly, the cuffs too far up so he stood on the side of the basin again and let out a quiet whine.
“I like that sound,” Omen purred behind him. Kit flinched but thankfully his balance kept him up on the side of the basin, arms relaxing slightly above him, still numb. “Make it for me again.”
“Let me go,” Kit snapped instead, his voice coming out tired and raspy, the words scraping against his throat.
“Hmm,” is all Omen replied. The sound of his shoes clacking against the concrete was the only thing Kit focused on. The villain’s smooth, confident footsteps. How Omen grew closer and closer, winding Kit’s nerves tighter and tighter until the footsteps stopped behind him.
Kit’s breath hitched.
A hand bunched into the back of his shirt and Kit could barely let out a cry of protest before he was yanked backwards, his feet splashing into the water. His scream turned into a breathless curse as the fall yanked at his wrists, the fire in his shoulders re-ignited with a vengeance as if his arms were being ripped from his body.
“That sound was even better,” Omen said, a smile in his voice as he walked around to face Kit, so he could witness Omen in all his horrifying glory.
The villain’s face looked paler in the dim lighting, as if he were never touched by sunlight. His raven hair was half tied back so strands didn’t fall around his face, exposing all the sharp edges of Omen, his cheek bones, his jaw, the razor-sharp curve of his smile. He wore a black button up shirt today, the top button undone, no tie or suit jacket. He reached a pale hand up to Kit’s cheek. Kit flinched away, water sloshing, cursing himself silently for his fear. Omen dropped his hand for now, slipping it easily into his trouser pocket.
“Ever heard of personal space?” Kit snapped. Omen smiled. He just kept smiling and Kit wanted so badly to just rip it from his face. Just once, to see it slip, but that would leave Kit in a worse off predicament.
“I know about personal space. I’m just not a fan of it with you. You know, it’s hard for me— this,” Omen said, gesturing between the two of them. His bottomless black eyes grinning. “Not using my powers on somebody, not knowing their every thought. It’s strange. Quaint. How do you live like this?”
Kit scoffed and looked away. “Right. So, when you can’t invade somebody’s brain against their consent, you’ll just invade their personal space instead?”
“It’s not that I can’t invade your mind, Atlas, it’s that I won’t. An important distinction to remember.”
Kit screwed his lips up. “Fuck you. You’re fucking weird. I want to feel your fear,” Kit mocked, mimicking Omen’s posh accent, though the effect was diminished through the voice changer. “Don’t you have your own fucking emotions, prick? I’m Omen and I am socially inept, so I need to read people’s thoughts, but not yours Atlas. No, I just want you to know I can because I am a big stupid bitch.”
Omen laughed at Kit’s outburst which just made his irritation grow. “You put it very succinctly. There’s something so… different about other people’s fear, Atlas, but yours? Hell, it’s like a drug… like an adrenaline rush if you will, because you’re just absolutely terrified, aren’t you? I just need to know, need to see your fear you’re so desperately trying to hide from me. Need to feel it, do you know what I mean?”
“No, sorry,” Kit said. Omen raised a suspicious brow at Kit’s seemingly empathetic tone. “I’m not a sociopath so I recognise normal human emotion without having to be weird about it.”
Omen shrugged, unbothered. He began unbuttoning the cuff of his shirt and rolling up his sleeves slowly, black eyes focused on Kit’s the whole time.
“I imagine it’s not unlike your weirdness, Kit,” Omen said, his voice flowing like mercury, charming and smooth. Kit understood the term silver tongue when Omen spoke. It’s like you wanted to hear everything he said, hang onto every word. Even without Omen using his power on Kit, his voice still affected him to some extent.
“Us heroes and villains, we’re all where we are today because we didn’t fit into the normal life. We didn’t get powers to squander them and sit in an office all day drinking coffee with normal humans. We’re all weird, even you and your sensitivity to electricity,” Omen said, unbuttoning his second cuff and starting on his other sleeve. He levelled Kit with his black eyes. “My guess is you can feel the electric currents in the environment around you. Am I right? In the air, in the water, in our bodies?”
Kit didn’t say anything. “Static electricity doesn’t affect you? No?”
Kit must have given something away because Omen smiled.
“Hah, you’re lucky. It can be a real bitch, but I respect you want to keep your power private. My point is, that normal people are affected by static electricity, and you have a resistance to it. That little spark show you exhibited yesterday told me you don’t have full immunity, but a normal person would be dead if they had that much electricity coursing through their body.”
“What’s your point?” Kit snapped, tired with Omen’s villain monologue. He stepped up to Kit, grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and yanked him down with one hand, while the other went to Kit’s cuff enclosed hands and tightened the metal until it bit deeper into his skin. Kit cried out as Omen put more pressure on his arms, cursing.
“What did I say about being nice to me? Didn’t I say I could make things uncomfortable for you?”
Kit’s screams faded into loud groans of pain as he bit down on his tongue, but Omen pulled him down harder and Kit couldn’t bear the strain as he cried out.
He reacted on instinct.
He hadn’t meant to do it.
It just happened.
The strain on his arms, it felt like he was going to pop, and Kit just needed Omen to let go of him, to just stop—
His legs shot up. His foot planting squarely on Omen’s chest and knocked him back a couple steps. Omen’s dark eyes blew wide, and he finally released Kit. Kit’s foot landed on the edge of the basin giving Kit some relief from the strain on his arms.
Nothing moved between them.
Not even a breath.
Kit was too scared to dare breathe, to blink, to do anything other than stare at Omen with wide eyes, too stunned to do anything. He wanted to apologise suddenly, which was ridiculous but he just–
Omen’s face cracked. A shocked laughter escaped him, filling the silence of the room. He clapped his hands wordlessly as his melodic laugh filled the air and the dread in Kit’s gut only increased when he should have been reassured.
Omen finally composed himself, and stood up taller than before, delight shining on his face. “You— are just full of surprises, Atlas. Here I thought you were deathly afraid of me, and yet, if I was deathly afraid of somebody… I know I wouldn’t have kicked them of all things.”
“No, no, Omen,” Kit pleaded as Omen advanced. “Please, I didn’t—”
“Oh, but you did, Kit,” Omen said, putting a hand on Kit’s shoulder, shushing him as Kit flinched. “Ssh, Sssh, sweet Atlas, look at me…”
Kit was shaking his head, his eyes closed. “Look at me,” Omen commanded, and Kit opened his eyes, still shaking his head at the villain.
“I’m… I’m sorry.”
“Stop apologising,” Omen told Kit, putting a finger under Kit’s chin, stopping Kit from shaking his head. Kit couldn’t fight the shiver that ran under his skin at how close Omen was. What he could do to Kit… without touching him. He didn’t even need to touch Kit for his power; he could do it from across the room. He just wanted to show Kit that he could do whatever he wanted, and Kit would just have to deal with it. The fear came back with a jolt and Kit fought back tears at the overwhelming helplessness of his situation.
“Omen—”
“Hush. Let me bask in your fear, I haven’t seen it all day. It’s like nicotine, it makes the day a bit better, makes the air you breathe a bit cleaner. You’re practically shaking! Look at you, I have one question for you. Are you paying attention?”
Kit nodded because he couldn’t trust his voice.
“Good,” Omen praised, “very good. Now, tell me why you fear me so much.”
The chains above Kit were shaking, his teeth rattling in his skull. It was a cold fear that washed over him at the question, at what Omen could do to him.
What Omen could do to him…
And Kit was powerless to stop him; he had no chance.
“Omen… please,” Kit sniffed, fighting back tears, but the villain heard his voice crack through his mask. Omen sighed and stepped back, removing his hands from Kit. He clicked his tongue against his teeth and shook his head.
Omen’s grin remained on his face. It remained, but something shifted, something changed, something unknown to the human eye but Kit could feel it, in the knot in his gut, in the dread that fell like a cloak over his shoulders. Omen chuckled, and it sucked all the air from Kit’s lungs.
“You know,” Omen began conversationally as he began to circle Kit, “I was thinking about what you said. How I retired after the fight I had with Noble.”
Kit bristled but at least he could finally breathe now. He hated when the villain said Noble’s name; it felt wrong, like a demon saying God’s name without any retribution. No divine smiting or punishment, like it was inconsequential.
“It’s the only fight you’re recorded to have had.”
Another soft laugh echoed through the bare, concrete room. “Careful, Atlas, you sound like a fan. But you’re right. I only ever fought Noble, so I guess it must have been hard for your little Hero agency to gather a proper profile on me, right?”
Kit rolled his eyes. Fingers in his hair yanked his head back. He cried out, cursing as his feet shot up the side of the basin, scrambling as he tried to pull his head free.
“Have you forgotten your manners already, Atlas?”
“Ngh, get off me!”
Omen clicked his tongue and yanked harder. “You’re like a bold child.”
“Fuck you! FUCK!”
“Go ahead. Curse. Swear. Struggle. It won’t get you anywhere,” Omen told him, his voice droning and anything but bothered while Kit’s scalp was on fire. He struggled to try and keep the weight off his shoulders, but every time he adjusted even a centimetre Omen would pull harder.
It wasn’t until Kit’s back was bent at an unnatural angle, his eyes facing the ceiling and the ligaments in his arms being ripped from the bone that he finally cried out: “SORRY! I’M SORRY! PLEASE!”
Omen released him instantly. Kit sprang back to his standing, gasping as tears streamed down his cheeks. He panted as he tried to catch his breath, his body screaming at him for being so disobedient.
“See? Was that so hard?” Kit whimpered in reply; his chest ached from the strain. His ribs felt like there were in a hydraulic press, squeezed together and flattened as he hung, every breath was just a little bit more difficult, a little more laboured. “Now, I’m guessing you heroes have no profile on me, am I correct?”
“Yes,” Kit answered, his voice barely above a whisper. He could feel the villain’s smirk behind him, but he didn’t want to cause himself any more pain as he stood there so he bit his cheek.
“Good,” Omen hummed, walking back into Kit’s line of sight. Kit didn’t take his eyes off the Villain as he walked towards the wall in front of Kit and leaned against it, hands casually in his pockets. His obsidian eyes flashed with an awful knowing. Kit bit his cheek harder, trying to stop himself from saying anything that would antagonise the bastard. “Telepathy is just one part of my powers, you’ve experienced first hand I can make you do what I want, but I don’t need to be in your head to compel you to obey.”
A molten hand of fear wrapped around his heart and squeezed, burning like cold fire in his chest. “What?” Kit asked, his voice quiet. Omen seemed to like when he spoke and engaged in conversation. Fuck, was he really considering appeasing a villain? His muscles screamed yes, to not agitate Omen more. His body couldn’t take it and he’s only been here for… for… however long. A day? Maybe two? Maybe less? No, Omen changed clothes… and it was night when he was taken so he assumed it had to be at least a day, right?
“Yeah. Verbal commands are just as effective as mental ones. I guess they both come from the same source, right?” Kit’s heartrate picked up in his ears as he stared wide-eyed at the villain. “So, I don’t need to get in your head to enjoy my influence over you.”
Kit shifted, trying to stand up taller, pulling on his too-tight cuffs just to do something. It was pathetic. He was trying in vain to prepare for something he couldn’t prevent. He couldn’t stop. He couldn’t fight back.
“I’ll take your silence as awe.” Kit swallowed down a curse and settled for glaring at the villain. Omen tilted his head. “Or maybe it’s just confusion,” he suggested with a shrug, crossing his arms across his chest. “Maybe an example will help.”
“NO!” Kit’s eyes widened impossibly further. “NO! Please! Please, I’m not confused. I’m not, I swear. Please!”
Omen’s lips quipped at the edges. “So mannerly, Atlas. You’re learning.”
“Please,” Kit begged. “Please, please, I’m sorry.”
Red the colour of bright, fresh blood flooded Omen’s lips. “Still, I think it will be helpful to remind you of what happens when you’re disrespectful.”
“No! NO! DON’T! Please! I’m sorry.”
“What’s bizarre is that my ability can bypass things like logic and self-preservation in your brain,” Omen continued, his eyes darkening. “If it’s something you can’t physically do, your body won’t recognise that and keep trying, no matter how much it hurts.”
Kit’s lips curled back over his teeth, panic flooding his body as he cursed. “You’re a fucking sadistic piece of shit! Let me go!”
Omen grinned with too red lips. “I don’t plan on letting you go,” he said with a shrug. “In fact, I want to keep you, and if I’m not going to let you go…” Omen paused. Kit swore he wouldn’t be able to hear the command over the rushing of blood in his ears. “Then you don’t need your mask, do you?”
Kit stepped back but he didn’t get anywhere. “Wait, please. Omen–”
Omen tilted his head to the side. “Funny how you remember your manners after being threatened. You see how that shows me negative reinforcement will work with you, Atlas?”
“No! Please, don’t remove my mask, please. Please. I’m begging you, please,” he couldn’t remove his mask. Then Omen will know what he looks like and Kit and everyone he knows, and loves, will be in danger. He wouldn’t be able to go outside, continue his normal life… he would… god he’d be fucked, forever.
“I didn’t say I’d remove your mask, Atlas, don’t worry.” The mirth dropped from Omen’s eyes, replaced with a cold glee. “Because you’re going to do it for me. Take off your mask, Atlas.”
Kit blinked. Then, like he too often did, he spoke before he thought. “Sure, no problem, man, I’ll take my mask off as soon as you let me out of these cuffs.”
Omen stared. “Take off your mask, Atlas.”
“Like I don’t know, you said you could command me to do it.”
“Yeah, but I’m trying to be nice, right? You can do it your way, you can try, or you can disobey and then I’ll force you.”
Kit blinked. He glanced up at his hands in the cuffs, then looked back at Omen. He blinked again. “Are you stupid? I- I can’t!”
“You haven’t even tried yet.”
“Are you–” Kit shook his head. “No, actually. Don’t answer. I have my answer, you are fucking stupid. My hands are currently locked above my head.”
Omen’s black eyes lazily traced up Kit’s arms to the cuffs, as if confirming they were there before he nodded. “They sure are.”
Kit scoffed. “So?!”
Omen rolled his eyes and let out a dramatic sigh. “Fine. I tried doing it the easy way. So, Atlas, take off your mask.”
Kit didn’t feel the viscous icy sludge flood his skull before he was moving, yanking his arms down from the cuffs. He tucked his elbows close to his head and tried in vain to press the release clasps on his mask. He knew that wouldn’t get him anywhere though, so he went back to plan A, pulling viciously at the cuffs that wrapped snugly around his wrists.
“FUCK! PLEASE! Stopstopstopstop,” he pleaded, crying out as he felt his wrists become slick with blood already.
Omen slipped his hands into his pockets again and shrugged. “Why would I tell you to stop now? The blood could act as a lubricant to–”
“Let me go! Stop! Please, fuck, fuck. AGH!”
“–help you achieve your goal faster; I don’t want to impede your progress like that. That would be cruel.”
Kit screamed as his legs lifted and he jumped, slamming back to his feet and yanking down with his entire body weight as he crouched. “Please, Omen…” Kit cried as he jumped again. He felt his skin rip, the metal biting into the bruises and already split cuts. “P–ple- GAHH FUCK!”
He jumped again before Omen said: “alright, you can stop. It would kind of ruin the mood if you degloved yourself.”
Kit sagged immediately, whimpering as he tried his best to lift his hands above the biting metal, blood running down his wrists and forearms as he bit his cheek, trying hard to compose himself in front of the villain. He didn’t notice Omen approaching, he didn’t notice the hand reaching for him and slipping under his chin, not until his head was gently tilted up as he hung.
“Wouldn’t it have been easier to just listen to me?” Kit couldn’t stop himself from trembling as he raised pained gaze to the bastard in front of him. A hand ran through Kit’s hair, combing through it softly. Warm bile climbed Kit’s throat as he tried to pull away weakly. “See? That’s the look I wanted from you. That, right there, your fear. How desperate you are to hide it from me, Atlas. Your stubbornness, even when it would help you to submit to me, look at you. Even now you’re glaring at me like an angry little puppy.”
“Fuck off,” Kit croaked. His stomach turned at the look of pure delight that flashed across Omen’s eyes, how happy he was at Kit’s continued defiance. This guy was fucking sick. What the fuck? How did Noble even…
A lump formed in Kit’s throat.
Right. Noble didn’t escape him. Noble didn’t survive him. He was forever imprisoned in his own mind, a prison of Omen’s design. Kit didn’t… his knees buckled, and Kit slumped further into Omen’s hold, whimpering at the pain, pain, pain dull and throbbing through his body aggravated by every miniscule movement.
Omen crouched so he was looking up at Kit, inky eyes gleaming like polished coal. “Atlas, Atlas, Atlas,” he tsked. “This is only some light torture. Doesn’t your namesake hold up the world on his shoulders? You can’t even hang from yours for a few measly hours?”
Kit glared at the villain, but there was no real bite behind it. He was tired. He was scared. No, he was terrified out of his mind, and the only thing keeping him up right now was the villain’s hand under his chin, but he wasn’t about to tell the bastard that.
“Who filled your head with the ideals of being a hero, hmm? Because clearly, you’re not cut out for it.”
“Fuck you!” Kit spat. His head whipped to the side, and he cried out as the chains above him jangled, rattling with the force of the slap that echoed around concrete.
“You’re like a feral cat someone just found on the street,” Omen said with an amused scoff. Kit swallowed the comment and tried to smother it in the back of his mind, because that one hurt. Just the shock of being slapped somehow stung more than a punch, it felt more personal. Kit hissed as the chains pulled taut and he tried to push himself up. “Even now, you’re just misbehaving for the sake of it.”
“If I’m such a fucking hinderance,” Kit hissed through clenched teeth, “then let me go you bastard!”
Omen smiled. “Come on, Atlas. I’m enjoying our,” his eyes flicked to the chains, “hanging out.”
“Fuck you. Fuckyoufuckyoufuc–” Kit tried to pull himself up and was half–successful this time before his foot slipped in the water and he bit his lip to dim his scream. Hot, thick iron filled his mouth from biting his lip too hard and he moaned a muffled groan.
“But clearly you’re not,” Omen sighed theatrically and dropped his hand from Kit’s chin. Kit whimpered as his entire body slumped in the chains. “And as my guest, it’s only right that you’re comfortable right?”
“Wh– what?” Kit lifted his eyes to follow Omen’s movements as he went to the corner of the room and started unwinding something. Kit squinted and realised it was a rope that was attached to the – “no, no, wait! No! Hold on!” Kit scrambled to get his feet under him in time, but he was too late.
Tension freed from the chains holding him up with a whoosh and Kit’s body dropped like a sandbag. He tried to angle the chains away from his face as he fell. He collapsed into the basin, his chin slapping off the edge and blood flooded Kit’s mouth, threatening to drown him as he mewled, trying to lift his limbs anyway but they were too heavy, and Kit was too weak.
He only barely heard footsteps before a hand grabbed the chains connected to his cuffs and Kit whimpered as his entire body screamed at him, blood pooling out over his lips, down his chin and beneath his mask, spilling into the basin of water below.
“Look at me.” Kit obeyed. This time there was no glare, no neutral features, nothing Kit could do to hide the pain from his gaze and his body as he silently begged Omen with his eyes to be gentle. Omen looking ravenous, drinking in every little detail he could see. At least the mask covered Kit’s lower half of his face so he couldn’t see Kit’s lips trembling. Omen crouched again in front of Kit and grinned at him. He put a hand in Kit’s hair and Kit winced, bracing for the pull, the pain.
So, when Omen ruffled Kit’s hair he stiffened completely. “You are just adorable,” Omen cooed. Kit wanted to bite him, to curse, to throw a fit but his body was too tired. He glanced down at his wrists and saw the damage his struggles to take his mask off did. A sudden wave of dizziness and nausea rippled through Kit’s body, and he slumped forward. His head hit Omen’s chest, and he shivered, unable to pull himself up as he closed his eyes.
“Please,” Kit begged, his voice so small. “Please just let me go.”
Hands went under Kit’s arms in reply and pulled him from the basin. Kit cried out as his limbs were aggravated and warned him to still, but he couldn’t stop the villain from lifting him over the basin. Kit’s knees hit the concrete with a dull thud followed by his feet after the sloshing of the water, but Omen kept dragging him until Kit was in the villain’s arms.
“No,” Kit protested weakly, trying to push himself away from the villain’s chest, but Omen didn’t seem to mind. It’s not like Kit could go anywhere anyways. Instead, Omen grabbed Kit’s cuffed hands and unclipped them from the chain. “No, get off.”
Omen whistled as he saw Kit’s mangled wrists. “Oh… that looks like it hurt.” Kit hissed when Omen ran a thumb over the wounds. “Don’t worry, I’ll clean them for you.”
“Just let me go,” Kit whined. Omen cooed at Kit again and dragged him back to his chest, wrapping his arms around Kit and hugging him to his chest. He put his hand in Kit’s head and pressed it to Omen’s shoulder. Kit shivered. This was worse. This was worse than hanging by his wrists. This was worse than trying to unmask himself. This was worse than frying himself with his powers. “Please, pleasepleaseplease.”
“Shhhh, Atlas,” Omen said, running his hand soothingly through Kit’s hair. Kit whimpered, his body too heavy to move or fight the villain off of him. Ice rushed through Kit’s mind, and he shot up with the last dregs of adrenaline left on him, but Omen simply pushed him back and shushed Kit again as Kit’s body slumped against his will.
“Ng… no, no, no.”
“You’re just going to go for a little nap for me, Atlas, you need your energy.”
Kit’s lips didn’t move, his mind seemed to shut down as he fought his eyes from closing. “Don’wanna.”
“You’re just so cute,” Omen cooed. His soft voice and his fingers running in a steady rhythm lulled the last fight from Kit as his body lost all tension and Kit lost the battle as his eyes closed, and he slumped boneless against the villain. Omen smiled as he felt the hero give into his command.
Oh, this hero was too fun, well worth taking. And he held out for so long, fighting him with everything he had left… and after dangling like that for two days, to have that much energy still. He was strong and stubborn and fiery and didn’t know what was good for him.
Omen frowned. This wasn’t like him. This wasn’t like him at all, he didn’t take Heroes. He didn’t fight heroes; he was barely a villain for crying out loud and then that water hero just… Omen sighed. He was here now. Omen was being impulsive and dumb, reckless, but the hero was far too interesting to just let him go… eventually he will, he decided. Wipe the hero’s mind and let him go about his life again, but for now…
Omen smiled down at the slumbering hero. For now he could have his fun with the curious little heroling.
***
Continued here
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@atomicduckthefirst @morning-star-whump
