He threw his costume on the floor. His whole body ached. He looked tiredly at himself in the mirror. He pulled off his goggles and stared at the cut where his goggles dug into his skin. He tossed the remains of the costume under his bed. A superhero's life was rough.
When he first started, a villain was there to balance it out. The villain made life hard, always getting better nearly beating him every time. They were a perfect balance. He was lucky this time. Only a scratch.
He collapsed onto his bed thinking about the fight. Mordar, the villain, was beating him. He got good. In the middle of the fight he backed down. He retreated into the shadows. Mordar never did that. In the middle of his thoughts, a weak knock erupted from the door. He looked through his room door to the one across the hall. He moaned and got up. He dragged his feet across the floor. Slowly he opened the door.
“Hello?”
Ragged breathing became the first thing he noticed. Leaning against the wall was a person. Their breathing came in deep then out and two ragged intakes, followed by a cough. The mass of brown looked up at him. Their eyes were familiar. Like he’s seen them before. He knew he had. They pleaded with him, for a moment pain flashed across them.
“Civols, I-I don’t know weh-el-els-g…”
They fell through the door frame collapsing into his arms. He stood there for a moment scared that more people knew his secret. Whoever this was shouldn't know his hero identity. The figure hugged his body. He snapped back. This person was here for a reason. He had to help them, after all, his job was to help anyone in need. Though, usually it included villains and not a stranger collapsing at his door. He locked his arm under their armpit and bent down to get their legs.
They grunted as he lifted them up. They wore a familiar leather suit. He had seen it earlier that night. Should he really be helping them?He ignored his thoughts and laid them down on the couch. The figure grunted.
“Alright, what’s wrong?”
“I-mph, just use your eyes.”
He studied the figure searching for a wound. He knelt down and picked up one of their hands. Covered in blood. Why didn't he notice that sooner? Blood was usually easy to see. Maybe he was more tired than he realized. The colors of the suit caught his eye. Green and purple. His mind flashed again to earlier. He looked up at the sheet white face. He looked at the villain. No, he couldn’t think about it right now.
“Where is it.”
"Use your eyes." They hissed again.
They grimaced as they tried to sit up. He pushed them down. Easily they collapsed to the couch. When did this happen? He had never seen them so weak-not like this. He watched them carefully. Hand over their side. Could they make it any more obvious? He pulled their hand away from their side revealing a deep cut.
His mind flashed to their fight earlier. He didn’t do this, he never used anything that could kill the villain. He only stunned them or knocked them out. Justice should never be dealt with death. Someone else did this. After half an hour of cleaning, stitching, and bandaging the wound (and a lot of complaints from the villain) it was finally done. He sat back and watched the figure’s chest move up and down.
“What happened to you?”
“I let you live.”
He didn’t expect them to actually answer. The villain had gone silent about ten minutes ago. He was convinced they were asleep. Apparently they gave up on complaining. Even with the "brilliant" explanation, he didn’t understand why they were stabbed or who did it. He hadn’t looked at their face. He had only seen their eyes. He was scared that if he took off their mask it would be someone he knew. He couldn't worry about that now.
“You should sleep.” He told them, grabbing a blanket. He wondered how comfortable their leather outfit was. He always thought it looked uncomfortable.
The villain shook their head-annoyingly. “You could kill me.” The voice was raw. It reminded him of his own voice after the villain strangled him once. It made him feel sorry for them.
“That’s not my job.” He replied, laying the blanket over them. He wondered if he slept himself if the villain would kill him.
“Killing you was mine.” Was that an answer to his thought?
He looked at the villain. Their breathing slowed and eventually he heard mumbles. He watched the villain carefully. It could be a trap. You just never know. Maybe they were going to kill, but how did they find out who he really was? There were other things to worry about, he told himself to try and stop anymore questions from filling his brain. He could worry about it in the morning.
______
He closed the door softly. For the past three days the villain had been sleeping, only waking up for an occasional meal or to insult him. He picked up a villain with one of the other heroes-since his villain seemed to have disappeared off the face of the earth. He pulled an ice pack from his fridge and placed it on his shoulder. Mordar never beat him up like this. He might have gotten the lucky stroke when Modar so graciously picked him to be a mortal enemy.
Civols sat down across from the villain. Finally he could rest. He never wanted to fight another villain that wasn't Modar again. It was horrible. He closed his eyes for no less than ten minutes when a groan sounded. He opened his eyes to see the villain’s eyes wandering around the room.
“Mordar?”
Their eyes wandered around for a few more minutes before they landed on him. The eyes studied him for a moment. There was a long stretch of silence. Should he say something? Offer them a drink of evilness? Or...just ask how they were feeling. Would Modar answer that?
“How do you feel?” He decided.
“Hurts.” He nodded. Of course it would, getting stabbed was not fun. He would no. Modar at least had mercy to miss everything vital.
“Who stabbed you?”
The eyes glared at him dangerously. He felt threatened for a moment-just like he did before a fight. He tensed, ready to flee or fight. It depended on what Modar would do. Then the eyes shut as the figure grunted. He remembered, they’re the one bleeding on my couch. Why was he scared? The villain hadn't moved in three days-not that he saw anyway. He laid back resting his shoulder. The villain studied him carefully. With a struggle, they sat up. He glared at Civols.
“Come here.” The villain ordered.
“Why.”
“Cause if you do I won’t kill you.”
Civols hesitated. Either have a chance of death or a smaller chance of death. He looked at the villain. He sighed and walked over dropping the ice pack on the chair.
“What?”
“Kneel down.”
“I’m not bowing down.”
“I said kneel not bow.”
He knelt down in confusion. The villain touched Civols’ shoulder. He flinched. He saw a green light start to glow. He froze. That’s what the villain did when they used their powers. He began moving when a sharp pain went through his arm. He started to bend over.
“Stay still.”
Slowly the green light faded. The villain’s breathing became heavy. He looked at Mordar with a glare.
“What did you do?”
“I did you a favor. Now we’re even.”
The villain laid back against the couch. Their eyes closed. Civols stared at the villain. He got up and reached for the ice pack. He froze. His shoulder didn’t hurt anymore. He flexed his shoulder. His eyes drifted back to the villain. A villain that could heal? How did that happen? He stared at the ice pack as he flexed his shoulder again. Maybe Modar wasn't as bad as he thought.
“Mordar?”
“Mm?”
“Thanks.”
“Shut up before I have to owe you another favor.”
Civols smiled. He quickly dismissed the thought. He looked back at her. Brown hair, gentle eyes, a pale completion. He took a moment to realize that she had taken her mask off. She? He always imagined Modar as a guy, but now that he looked back...it made sense that she was a she. She looked so cu-No! You’re enemies! He looked back at the villain. He turned away when he felt his face blush.
“You’re blushing.”
The villain went quiet, then a smirk came to their face. “Looks like we're both bad at hating each other."