Villain's Coffee Shop

Bleeding Out

   Villain was limping his way home to lick his wounds after an intense battle with Superhero. He'd lost badly -- Superhero hadn't been holding back this time. Villain must have caught him in a bad mood.
   He had almost been caught, but thanks to a smoke bomb he managed to escape with his life, disappearing before Superhero could finish him off. Once he'd realized Superhero would willingly kill him this time, he'd chosen to flee instead of continuing the fight. His pride had taken a hit, but at least he'd survived. Barely.
   But Superhero wasn't supposed to fight dirty, a naive part of him whined. Only villains like himself fought to kill... or at least, that's how it used to be. He'd gravely miscalculated and underestimated Superhero this time around, and he was paying the steep price for that error. There was nothing to blame but his own ignorance, his overconfidence.
   And now Villain found himself staggering down a dark alley on his way back to his lair, though every step seemed harder than before, his breathing ragged and rough. Sweat beaded on his forehead and slid down the leather mask concealing his identity. Superhero must have injured him worse than he thought, and he knew he was leaving a trail of blood behind him; he could feel it sliding down his arms and legs from deep, vicious gashes meant to maim and incapacitate. Very un-Superhero-like attacks designed to cripple the enemy.
   Villain could almost laugh at the irony, because that was his usual fighting style. Go for the most vulnerable attacks aimed at legs and lower torso to disable opponents brutally and efficiently, as quickly as possible. Superhero must have been taking notes on his MO, using his own tricks against him. And the problem was that they were extremely effective.
   Villain stumbled and tripped over himself as he progressively grew weaker, clutching at a gnarly stab wound right below his ribs that throbbed in agony with every heartbeat. Several other significant injuries were torn across his arms and legs, but most were clustered around his torso, the most vulnerable part of him. Now that the adrenaline was starting to wear off he became increasingly aware of all the damage, the agony intensifying with each second that ticked by. He glanced at the end of the alleyway that seemed even farther away than before, it felt like he was hiking up a mountain. Only a few blocks left... that's as far as he had to go to reach his lair. But he wasn't sure he could make it at this point.
   Each step was a conscious effort, the toes of Villain's boots dragging across the concrete. And then he faltered, pitching to the side to catch himself on the side of a big blue dumpster, barely managing to stay upright. He was shaking all over, and doubled over in a fit of violent coughing, blood flecking his lips. He was left wheezing and panting for air as he forced himself back up straight, breath rattling in his lungs with every inhale. It was like a hundred sharp needles were stabbing him in the chest with every breath, the agony was unbearable. But he had to keep moving, had to keep going before anyone found him.
   Gritting his teeth, he pushed off from the dumpster, putting one foot in front of the next -- when suddenly, he heard footsteps behind him, and genuine, ice-cold fear shot down his spine, and he froze in his tracks.
   No. He was in no shape for another fight. How had Superhero found him so fast?! He'd made sure to take a detour to shake him off his tail. Where did Villain go wrong? His shoulders sagged miserably as he braced himself. Superhero would certainly put an end to him now that they were alone and out of the public eye. But Villain still wasn't quite ready when a weight slammed into him from behind, hands wrapping around him to spin him and slam his back against the alley's hard brick wall. It knocked the breath out of him, blinding pain seizing him. But he couldn't even scream, he was too busy gasping for lost breath, chest heaving for air. There was a hand on his chest pinning him to the wall, gripping the front of his leather villain suit. And a heartbeat later Villain felt the press of cold metal blade against his throat.
   "What a lucky coincidence finding you here, Villain," a sweet voice sneered.
   Villain had to blink several times in surprise before realizing that it wasn't Superhero standing in front of him... no, the suit colors were wrong. This was Hero. Villain had only encountered her a few times on the battlefield, not enough to get to know her that well. She was an unpredictable wildcard to him, always had been, even with his limited experience fighting her. She always somehow managed to surprise him, right when he thought he'd figured her out.
   Villain weakly bared his teeth in defiance and frustration. "Ah, the knight in shining leather. Come to gloat over your boss's victory, oh mighty lap dog?" He snarked, goading. "Always obediently following Superhero around like a clingy shadow."
   But unnervingly, Hero merely laughed, as though he were only a kitten spitting fire at a lion. Audible amusement laced her voice, and it made Villain's skin crawl with anger. He withered under her delighted gaze.
   "Is the poor lone wolf going off to lick his wounds like a coward?" Hero cooed mockingly. "Superhero told me you fled halfway through the fight. I couldn't believe it at first, given your nasty reputation for power and violence -- and yet here you are, dragging yourself home all by yourself. I wonder what kind of reward I'll get for bringing you in."
   Villain couldn't find it himself to snap back with a witty retort, he was viscerally aware of how bad his own legs were shaking, threatening to give out at any second. But if he fell, the dagger resting against his throat would slice it wide open. He was certain.
   "Go ahead and take me in then," Villain finally managed to grit out. But he couldn't keep the pain from his voice, no matter how hard he tried to cover it with his typical flippant attitude. "I'll be dead anyway by the time you turn me over to Superhero." He hadn't meant to say that much, broadcasting his weakness so openly. His mouth instantly snapped shut, and he glowered at Hero, packing as much hate and venom into his glare as he could.
   The corners of Hero's mouth briefly twitched into a confused frown, and she took the hand on his chest away, before her expression turned to concern and alarm. Villain followed her gaze to the hand she'd withdrawn, which was covered in dark red blood -- his blood.
   "Geez, Villain! You're bleeding all over the place!" Hero gasped in surprise. "How are you even still standing right now?!"
   "Took you that long to notice, huh?" Villain bit out, but it didn't come out as snappy as he'd intended. He swallowed nervously, his throat bobbing against the cold blade skating across his neck. "Can you drop the knife now?! You know now that I'm in no shape to attack you," he barked angrily.
   "Why don't you drop the attitude first, sweetheart?" Hero said in return with a cruel smile.
   Villain would have clocked her in the face if he had the strength, just to knock that smug look off it. But he was on the brink of collapsing, focusing all his effort into retaining his dignity -- but his body wouldn't listen, and he finally crumpled with a grunt. The blade at his neck disappeared, and he felt warm arms catch him before he hit the ground -- was he really that cold, that Hero felt so warm? Must be all the blood loss.
   "Whoa! Uh--okay, this is... not what I was trained to handle." Villain had never heard Hero floundering with her words before. She was always full of sarcasm and snark, but maybe it was a cover all along to hide the uncertainty and insecurities lurking beneath.