Superheroes VS. Super Villains (A Collection)

Playmate

I stumbled forward, limbs bound and the gag cutting the corners of my mouth, only to find myself facing- young, my age, the stranger was my age. But his features were startlingly similar to the villain's.

“And you say I never give you anything,” the nemesis said. “Look what I've brought you, just as you asked. Maybe now you'll stop complaining about having no one your own age to play with, hm?”

The boy's green eyes grew and a sick smile spread across his face. My hopes that he might be different from his father were completely dashed. I could feel my head going heavy with the weight of a thousand horrible memories of what Dr. Mayhem had done to me.

“He's really mine?” The boy asked, stepping towards me. His advance made me want to run for my life, but my ankles were still tied with only a foot between them. There was no way I could shuffle out of here fast enough.

The Doctor nodded. “Happy birthday son, I knew you'd like him.”

He took another step forward and reached out a hand to touch me. I didn't want to be touched, I hated to be touched. I just wanted to kick him in the nuts and leave, go back to Brooklyn and never think about any of this again.

He slowly began stroking my face with the back of his hand, which even I'll admit, was incredibly soft. “Thank you Father. He is perfect… except,” he frowned and turned to the Doctor with puppy eyes, still holding his hand to my face. I crossed my fingers that I might be blessed with some sort of flaw that would deem me unacceptable to be given to this kid as a present.

“Father, he has scars.” His voice was small, pathetic and soft. He sounded like a girl,an angel, and a pouting child all at once. Scars? Scars were his issue? Why, his father was the one to put most of those scars there in the first place! And he'd only seen the ones on my face, tiny knicks and lines from being slapped or punched too hard. Wait till he saw me with my shirt off, the healed stabbing wounds would make the poor guy’s head spin.

“Of course he does, Nicholas. I wasn't going to give you a weakling for your birthday, not if you're going to use him to practice on. I had to test him out, train him a little.”

Nicholas nodded a little before mumbling “I suppose that's alright then.” and turning back to me. I kept my eyes locked on his, too scared to fight his hands but still too rebellious to give in to fear and look away.

“May I take him to my room now?”

The Doctor nodded, a smile playing about his lips as he watched me grow increasingly uncomfortable.

“Goodbye, Numbers. Don't forget our little talk, and try to be good.”