(It's dark, just to warn you. Tread carefully.)
"You don't have to do this."
"You didn't have to run," the villain replied. "But we all have our callings, don't we?" Their voice was not unsympathetic. Their eyes were eager. If a stare was capable of taking a bite out of a person, then the villain's would.
Pain throbbed through the hero's ankle where they'd fallen. They weren't remotely convinced it would take their leg if they tried to stand. They edged back another uneasy inch on the floor, nausea clawing up their throat.
"I won't do it again. You've already proven it's useless, that there's no way out of here. Just-"
"-Don't say please, you'll excite me, and then I'll have to hurt you more. It would be regrettable."
The hero's mouth snapped shut.
The villain sighed and crouched down in front of them. They patted the hero's broken ankle, oh so consolingly, forcing the hero to bite back a whimper.
"I was dumb," the hero whispered.
"I've learned my lesson."
"You're in charge. I - I won't try to run. I'll - I can be good."
"Of course you can, love," the villain said. "We all have a capacity of goodness inside us. Will you be, though?"
"Yes. Oh my god, yes. So you don't have to - I mean, we can both resist our callings, right?" The hero wet their dry, cracked lips. "You don't want to hurt me, yeah? It's - it's regrettable."
"But what if you get dumb again?" the villain asked. "I think it would help you to have a reminder. It's good to reinforce lessons, you know?"
"-An excellent reminder not to trip and to watch where you're going. Nothing to do with me."
There was a moment of absolute silence.
The hero's heart dropped, with the horrible realisation of what had just left their lips, at the look on the villain's face.
Before, the villain's stare was a bit like taking a bite, sure. In the same way that a shark might take a bite out of an unsuspecting tourist - a little nibble merely to check what they were dealing with. Instinct. Habit. No particular malicious force behind it.
"I'm sorry," the hero said. "I'm sorry, I didn't-"
"You're making it so much worse. Stop."
The hero squeezed their eyes shut. That time, the whimper slid free.
The villain leaned in, cupping their chin, pressing a soothing kiss to their forehead.
"It's for the best, pet. Then we won't have to do this again."
"What are you going to do?"
"It's not what I'm going to do," the villain said. "It's what you're going to do."
The villain smiled. They gestured to one of their goons, who scurried forward to hand the villain a hammer.
The hero flinched. They braced themselves, already able to imagine the crack of bone, the-
The villain curled the hero's fingers tenderly around the handle.
"Break your leg, dear. We both know I won't be able to stop with just the one if I get started, hm?"
The villain stared back, implacable.
"What?" the hero whispered.
"Well, if it was me, I'd start with the leg so you don't run. But you're stubborn, aren't you? So then I'd have to start wandering about your eyes. Much harder to run without any eyes! Though of course there are still options-"
The hero tightened their grip on the hammer, hand shaking. They considered their legs. Where might hurt least.
"For a first offense. I can be kind."
"Okay," the hero said. They exhaled a breath. "Okay."
"Want me to count you in? One, two - oh." The villain whistled as the hero brought the hammer down. Their ears rang with pain. The world tilted. Everything felt too hot, too icy cold. They could vaguely hear the villain still talking, steadying their hand, stroking their abruptly clammy hair from their face. "Nice. Efficient. Now one more time because you said please."
But there was no god, only the villain.
The hero brought the hammer down.
It was a relief to wake up, alone, in their cell.
