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.

Radiance gazed at the man she had captured, her expression completely blank.

For a henchman, he certainly had nerves of steel. That, or a great poker face.

She had hoped she would have to do little more than intimidate.

But pain broke anyone, in the end. The only question was how long it would take her.

Caroline was a good student, always had been. And she had known pain. She had never passed the lessons on. She always went for clean kills.

Discomfort rolled in her belly, and it took her a moment to recognize the half-forgotten sensation for what it was: nausea. She was about to cross one of the few lines she had left.

But for her brother, she could do this.

She casually twirled her blade once more, as if to emphasize that it was there, but he paid it no attention. No, he was staring at her, with an unsettling scrutiny.

“Answer this question truthfully and to the full extent of your knowledge, and I will let you go unharmed.”

He tilted his head.

“Where is Ian Reynolds?”

“…who?”


***


The woman exhaled, and it sounded almost resigned, yet her face – what little he could see of it – was completely without emotion. She lowered her blade to rest against his cut cheek. The metal was so very cold.

“I don’t know anyone by that name,” he gritted out.

“I’m sure you don’t,” she said. “Just as I’m sure a little pain will help you with those memory issues.” Yet the dagger still had not pierced his skin. What was she waiting for?

PsyKick balled his right hand into a fist, trying to reach the thin band of metal around his wrist. If he could just get his power suppressor cuff off, he’d be able to defend himself. It was a custom model with an off switch, not like the cuff he used to slap on criminals he arrested – he wore it voluntarily, and could take it off at will. If his hands hadn’t been bound, anyway. The strap around his wrist was fastened with a clasp, and he futilely tried to hit the release switch with the small metal pin.

“Still waiting for that promised pain,” he drawled, bored, trying to distract her from the tiny movements.

Blood flowed. The cut was light and fleeting, as if she was reluctant to do more. Memories stirred. It had been just like this before. Villainess, pain, and… he bit his lip, groaning as pleasure flooded him. It didn’t come close to the pure ecstasy Cinder Snow had given him; that little device in his cerebral cortex had long since been removed from him. This was an echo.

It was still staggering in its intensity.

The woman paused again.

“… are you enjoying this?”

“Being tied up by a beautiful villainess?” he breathed. “I’m having a wonderful time. Please, continue.” He twisted his wrist again. Just… a little more…

“…the fuck is wrong with you?”

“So many things.”

“Enough!” Long strong fingers closed around his neck. Apparently she’d changed tactics, abandoning the knife. “Where is the real Ian?”

“I don’t know!” He could barely breathe through the enormous pressure on his windpipe let alone choke out the words; she looked small and delicate, yet her grip was like steel.

His fingernails scratched at the flat surface of the gurney, his hand twisting and turning as he madly scrambled to find the right angle to hit the switch.

And then he did.

The cuff clicked open.

Power flooded his senses, the world around him coming alive after the long and terrible silence. The woman was thrown away as a telekinetic pulse wave pulsed around him.

Voices.

Voices were filling his head.

They had to be somewhere in the city, one of the abandoned warehouses.

So many voices. Too many. Three years of tranquility had left him unequipped to handle the overwhelming volume.

He shut them out as best as he could, focused on the woman slowly getting up, narrowing pale eyes at him. She was a vortex of rage and grief and purpose, all focused around a brightly glowing strand running from her into the ether, connecting to someone far away. LoveAnxietyFear he read before giving up on trying to identify what exactly the strand was made of. It was too much, and too contradicting.

Instead, he aimed a crude psychic blast, trying to knock her out.

He hit a wall.

PsyBlockers. She was wearing PsyBlockers. He swore under his breath. Either they had become even more common in the last three years, or she was a higher, well-connected class of villain.

The thought of being in the position to take down a truly dangerous villain stirred some long-buried hope.

He could be a hero again.

The room started shaking.


***


What the fuck?

He was not supposed to have powers; she had scanned him for the subtle reality alteration field which surrounded mutants and magic users. The tech was a precursor to power suppressors, picking up on the external manifestation of power which the latter prevented.

His dark eyes were glowing with a pale golden light, a glow that slowly spread to the gurney she had strapped him to. The restraints undid themselves, floating in the air as if lifted by the glow surrounding them. The man slowly got to his feet, drawing himself up to his impressive full height.

And then the gurney behind him started floating, too. As did every loose object in the room, like gravity had simply been switched off.

That included the various sharp objects she’d spread out on the table next to him; they’d been meant to unnerve rather than see a practical application. And now they were all aimed at her.

And this was just their minion?

Radiance narrowed her eyes, her still crouching body tensing to dodge. Her breathing was calm and even. As surprising as this new development was, she did not allow it to fluster her.

She adapted. She survived. As she always did.

Her fingers tightened on the dagger strapped to her upper thigh.

“Surrender now.” His voice echoed. In her head. Her eyes widened when she realized he was peeling away her PsyBlockers. They were state of the art, but, like all technology, they had their limits. They were built more than anything to just alert their users to psychic assaults so they could never be taken unaware, yet, like natural mental barriers, they could not withstand a dedicated psychic chipping away at them forever.

She needed to break his concentration.

Radiance lunged, and three blades floating behind him instantaneously honed in on her. She dissolved into light mid-leap an instant before they’d have hit her, then rammed into him from behind, her dagger to his throat.

The walls to her mind broke.

And her vision went white.


***


PsyKick blinked, dazed and confused.

There was silence in his head.

There shouldn’t be silence.

There should be a cacophony of voices.

He groaned, and froze at the sound of his voice.

A dagger fell out of his hand, hitting the floor with a small clink that was unbearably loud in the silence that should not exist.

The last thing he remembered was her blade at his throat, about to kill him. She was so fast, and he was so out of practice. In his desperation, all he’d focused on was breaking those PsyBlockers and getting inside of her head.

PsyKick became dimly aware that he was straddling something warm. Something alive. A body. A man’s body.

His body.

“Oh god,” he said, in a woman’s voice.