Of Heroes And Villains: The Ties That Bind An assassin. A fallen hero. An unlikely meeting. The road to redemption is long and hard and filled with explosives.

PsyKick’s hand was shaking as he signed the release form, leaving the name Stephen Smith scrawled in the messy handwriting of a preschooler. The nurse accepted it with an indulgent smile, which only served to make him feel worse. Like she’d expected nothing better of him.

He was brainwashed, not mentally deficient.

PsyKick – Stephen, he had to get used to thinking of himself as Stephen again – lowered his hands and willed himself to stop shaking. He anxiously twisted the power suppressor cuff on his wrist.

They’d taken out the implants. Today was the day he was finally getting out of here.

Why had they done that, he wasn’t ready, he should just stay locked up in his tiny room where he couldn’t hurt anyone.

PsyKick exhaled, closing his eyes.

If he never saw that fucking room again, it would be too soon.

And it wasn’t like they were releasing him without supervision.

So he summoned a smile for the nurse and adjusted the bag slung over his shoulder, holding his meager worldly belongings.

What did one say to the nurse one had once tried to choke in an escape attempt when one was being released from a mental institution? They just didn’t make etiquette guides for this. A gross oversight, really.

“It… was nice meeting you…?” he tried tentatively.

The nurse laughed softly.

“We will always have that moment where you brought me a food tray and I kept banging my head against the wall.”

Her smile softened. “You’re stalling, Mister Smith.”

“Am I?”

“Yes. The door is that way.” Her voice was kind. “You don’t belong here anymore.”

If only he could actually believe that.

“Right.” He turned toward the wide doors, the sun streaming in through the glass. Then he promptly turned back to the receptionist desk. “No, but seriously, your restraining technique was superb.”

“Go!”

He went.

PsyKick stepped outside and raised his face toward the sun, closing his eyes.

“Stephen!” A familiar voice called to him, excited and happy, and he could not have ignored it if he had wanted to. He opened his eyes, gazing at the woman waiting for him.

Diane was beaming at him, the flowers in her hair fully unfurled in what he now realized was a display of happiness. She’d worn actual clothes today, albeit skimpy ones, and her long golden hair practically glowed in the afternoon sun.

She held her arms out wide for him, as if inviting him to hug her. So he strode toward her, wrapping his arms around his Mistr – Diane, and burying his face in her shoulder.

Just being in her presence was so calming.

He couldn’t help but resent it a little.

PsyKick loved and hated her. Loved her, now that he realized what she’d done for him, and hated her for still feeling the urge to kneel and kiss her feet. He understood why she had set herself up to be his Mistress, but that didn’t make it any easier to bear now that he was mostly lucid.

The most insidious part of his brainwashing was that it was not external; there was no programming that could be easily removed. No, Cinder Snow had used PsyKick’s own mind and powers to twist themselves to fulfill the simple directive she had implanted, bypassing his psychic defenses completely. Removing the implant had not, and never could, remove the damage it had wrought.

And now PsyKick just had to live with it.

“Hey,” he murmured, not trusting himself to speak any further, lest he blurt out something incredibly stupid like Please tell me to stop shaking, Mistress, it’s getting annoying.

Diane squeezed him in response, and then took a step back to smile brightly at him.

He smiled back, and she tugged at his hand.

“There’s someone I want you to meet!”

And before PsyKick quite knew what had happened, she’d dragged him outside the gate, outside the hospital grounds, which he hadn’t left in what he now knew to be three long years.

Permission to panic? whimpered a small part of his mind.

Denied.

PsyKick had once stoically faced a mad demi-god without flinching. Surely he could handle this?

Diane skidded to a halt not far from the gate, where a tall, short-haired woman was casually leaning against a sleek silver car. Her pale eyes fixed first on Diane, and then she turned her head to meet PsyKick’s gaze.

The woman uncrossed her arms and Diane immediately bounded up to her, wrapping an arm around her waist.

“Stephen, this is Kara.”

PsyKick absently twisted the cuff on his wrist. Once, at the height of his power, he’d been able to see the ties that bound people together, almost like a physical presence in his vision.

He was able discern relationships at a glance, and had put the power to good use, exploiting weak spots where he saw them. A member of a villain team feeling underappreciated? A whisper of doubt planted in their minds would escalate it to disloyalty. A mild touch of dislike? Nurtured into anger and hatred at a critical moment. Villains were ever so eager to turn on each other. Likewise, he had kept the friction in his own superhero team to a minimum, mediating conflicts before they truly began.

He couldn’t see that now. His vision was dulled, painting a mundane world filled with nothing but what was physically there.

But he didn’t need it to see what was plainly obvious in that small touch. The two women would be bound by deceptively delicate strands of red, thin as hairs, and strong as steel. Love. Perhaps there would also be lust, those fleeting, writhing wisps, and most definitely friendship, a glowing chain that few things could break.

“It’s good to see you again, PsyKick” Kara said in a low voice, extending a hand, and he automatically shook it.

“Thanks,” he said, brows furrowing together. “Have we met?”

Her lips curled into a small smile. “In costume.”

PsyKick squinted, trying to place her. It shouldn’t be hard, really; heroine or not, few women stood as tall as he did. So he took a random guess. “Crimson Crystal?” A heroine who could turn her skin into diamond; her armored body was famously tall and indestructible.

Kara shook her head, biting her lip to keep from grinning as if there was a joke he was not in on. “No, I’m..:”

“Shhh. Don’t tell me. I’ll figure it out.”

“You won’t,” Diane interjected cheerfully.

“Challenge accepted.”

Kara’s lips were twitching in amusement, and Diane grinned. Then she let go off her girlfriend to reach for PsyKick, taking his hand in hers.

“Kara has agreed that you can stay with us, as long as you need or want.”

He shifted uncomfortably. Diane had offered him to stay with her so he could finally leave that damn room, and he’d not thought twice about imposing on her. Of course he should live where his Mistress lived. Only now that he realized there would be another person in the household did he realize how utterly insane his reasoning was.

Catching himself like that was always disorienting. The worst part of being insane was the habit of his insane thoughts to masquerade themselves as rational ones.

“I… hope I’m not inconveniencing you.”

“No,” Kara said instantly. “The house is large enough for three.”

“Understatement. I have prepared a map for you, Stephen, so you don’t get lost.” Diane nodded sagely.

“Not everybody shares your terrible sense of direction,” Kara murmured under her breath.

“The house has wings, Kara. Wings!”

Kara stared blankly, as if she didn’t get what Diane was trying to say. Then she shook her head and fished keys out of her pocket. “And this is why I don’t let you drive. That, and the Ferrari incident.”

“Oh, come on, it was one car. How long are you going to lord this over me, hero? I’ve changed. I’ve redeemed myself!”

“It was last week.”

Diane pouted and Kara ruffled her hair as she turned toward the car.

PsyKick truly paid attention to their ride for the first time and felt his jaw slacken. It was a beautiful vintage car he recognized as a Mercedes Benz. Kara seemed to have noticed his look, for the keys were suddenly sailing through the air. PsyKick barely caught them in time.

“Do you want to drive?”

“I wouldn’t know where.”

“It has GPS.”

His eyes shone. “Deal.”


***


“Mighty Maiden?”

“No.”

“Cassiopeia?”

“No.”

Kara’s lips were curled into a small smile as PsyKick struggled to think of other Amazonian heroines he knew.

“You’re not even close, you know.”

“Hush, Mistress, I’m thinking.”

Kara tensed, the smile gone, and PsyKick felt his cheeks burn as he realized his slip. His knuckles turned white on the steering wheel.

“Stephen,” Diane crooned. “Don’t make Kara jealous. She thinks she’s the only one who should be allowed to call me Mistress.”

“Diane!” And now Kara was the one blushing.

PsyKick slowly relaxed again.

“…Ghost Current?”