Hero & Villain

Macer | 745w

I tug the hoodie over my head, thinking about today. It was an odd day, because even though I stirred up plenty of chaos, Falcon never showed up. He never came yesterday either. And while he may just be on a vacation in the Bahamas, I'm a bit concerned.

We have a deal. I don't kill him, he doesn't kill me, we both continue to live and profit from our separate benefactors. If we're being honest though, being a supervillain is much more profitable that being a superhero. Superheroes don't get paid for anything, while a lot of people will pay a supervillain to, say, assassinate someone for them, or blow up a certain building.

I normally don't do too much while Falcon is gone, it's boring not having anyone to fight with. But today and yesterday I kept expecting him to show up, as I hadn't seen any signs of him leaving. Normally I know a day or so before he leaves, but this time I had no warning. Perhaps he got called away on a personal matter, and left overnight.

I sigh and walk to my kitchen, getting out everything to make dinner. Before I can turn the stove on I hear a knock on my door. I freeze, then throw my hood up and creep toward my door. The only time I get company is if it's either someone who has the wrong address, or someone wanting to hire me for a job.

I throw the door open, ready to either be attacked or at least have a weapon aimed at me, but instead I see a small male standing outside my doorway. He's shivering and covered in blood, and as I watch he brings a hand up to his mouth and lets out a frightened whimper. His shirt is ripped and hanging open, his chest and stomach littered with bruises, and he's barefoot.

It's not until he looks up at me with brown, dazed, drugged looking eyes that I realize who it is. It's Falcon, the superhero I'm always fighting with. I never really realized that he was shorter than me before.

He mumbles something and sways on his feet, seemingly barely able to stand. I reach out and grab his arms to steady him, but he flinches away from me like I'm going to hit him.

Another soft whimper, then he mumbles again, his voice slurred, and I'm able to catch the words, "...didn't know where else to go..."

I've only just comprehended what he said when he collapses, forcing me to catch him. I lift him up and carry him inside, my brows furrowing at how light weight he is. His big, feathery wings seem like they would be a bit heavy, but I don't even feel them under his clothing.

I hurry him to my living room, lay him on his back, and brush his soft brown hair off his face. His eyes are both bruised and red, like he hasn't slept for days and he's been crying. My gaze travels from his eyes to the rest of his face, which is sporting a bruised cheek and split lip, then down to his neck, revealing what looks like hand prints, then down to his chest and stomach, which are covered in bruises.

I feel rage building up inside me at the sight of him bruised and battered, looking rather... broken. I stalk to my kitchen and get ice to put on his bruised cheek and eyes, then get a bunch of blankets and move to cover him. I hesitate though, and after a moment of standing there in indecision I gently pick him up again and carry him to my bedroom. I set his limp body on my bed, then take the remnants of his shirt off, exposing even more bruising on his sides and back.

I have a debate with myself, then awkwardly lay him back on the bed and pull his jeans off. My blood boils at the sight of finger-like bruises on his thighs. "What did they do to you?" I whisper, even though I know he won't answer.

I get a pair of sweatpants out of my dresser and easily slip them on him, then tuck him in under my blankets. I don't feel hungry anymore, so I pull an armchair over to my bed and sit down in it, watching Falcon's peaceful expression until I drift off to sleep.