Pillows #3

Hi! Could you write another continuation of Pillows? 

Pillows
Pillows #2

“I’m sorry,” the sidekick repeated, through gritted teeth. “You kidnapped them?”

“Well,” the villain cleared their throat. “That has been our goal for—”

“They saved my life!”

“Yes, and I would quite like to know exactly why they needed to do that, to be perfectly honest.”

It shut the villain’s sidekick up from their impending lecture, and the two of them stared at each. It was a testament to the hero’s healing abilities that, despite the awful amount of blood spilled on the alleyway floor, their sidekick only looked a little peaky and lethargic. They were fundamentally fine after their long nap.

But if the hero hadn’t been there…

The sidekick looked away first, jaw clenched mutinous.

“I could have lied to you,” the villain said. “I could have simply told you that I let them go and—”

“-Oh, how gracious,” the sidekick snapped. “Thanks so much for being less of a dick than you could have been. Are they in the vault now?” When the villain said nothing, their sidekick started to struggle out of bed.

“Hey, hey.” The villain placed a (gentle) hand on their shoulder. “Take it easy. You just woke up. Yes, they’re in the vault but – they’re fine. I haven’t hurt them. They’re resting.”

The sidekick paused, studying their face with narrowed eyes, searching for the trickery.

It was the villain’s turn to look away, resisting the absurd urge to swallow. They didn’t have to justify themselves to a teenager, did they? Except…

“You didn’t hurt them.” There was an odd note in the sidekick’s voice. “Because you…couldn’t?”

The villain’s fingers flexed with irritation; but the sidekick wasn’t asking because they truly thought the villain was too powerless or weak to do any damage, only because that was more reasonable an explanation than the fact that they could have hurt the hero but hadn’t.

“They saved your life,” the villain muttered, letting go of the sidekick’s arm.

Did their sidekick really not know what that meant? Maybe it was their fault. Maybe they’d been too cold, too harsh, too – too something terrible. The sidekick’s potential last words had been to ask the hero not to tell them something. They’d clearly screwed something up somewhere!

Unfortunately, they didn’t have the first clue how to fix it. It wasn’t like they could just come out with ‘kid, I adore you’. It wasn’t like they could rely on any advanced interrogation tactics either, not with the sidekick.

The kid stared at them again, so small and fragile seeming tucked up in a big bed. The memory of them bleeding out double-exposed itself behind the villain’s eyelids. The sidekick’s brow furrowed with confusion. The villain felt sick.

“I won’t press,” the villain said, even if all they really wanted to do was shake the protagonist until the truth rattled right out past their teeth, because if they didn’t know – well, they didn’t know and –the villain drew in a careful, steadying breath. “This is clearly a matter you do not wish to discuss with me. However, if you need…if you need help, I hope you know I will provide it.”

The curiosity (more than that, the concern) burned through them. What if there was some deadly threat they were facing, and the villain didn’t even know about it? It was only reasonable for the sidekick to tell them. It could affect their work. The running of important operations. It could lead to the sidekick bleeding out again in another alleyway, and there would be no chance of the hero doing anything to save them, because they were locked up downstairs in a glass cage with an unholy number of pillows.

The sidekick’s mouth worked, but they didn’t come out with anything that could be considered an explanation. It took them about thirty seconds to even come out with words.

“Can I see them?” the sidekick asked. “The hero.”

“You’ll let them go.”

“No, no…I just…I’d like to thank them. For my life. I know our mission, I’m not –” The sidekick hesitated once more. “I mean, if you were okay with letting them go—”

“No.”

“Maybe they’re not as bad as you think. As we thought.”

“They are a bane on our every plan!”

This was clearly why the hero had really saved their sidekick’s life, none of that bullshit about them being seventeen. They were trying to sabotage the villain’s operations from within and oh how effective that had proven, hadn’t it?

The sidekick’s shoulders slumped, fingers twisting into their bedsheets.

“They saved my life,” they said. “It just doesn’t feel right that their reward for that should be being locked up for all eternity. Please.”

Bile clawed up the villain’s throat. They pushed furiously to their feet, whole body going cold.

“I won’t discuss this further, especially with a sidekick who is keeping secrets with me.”

“But – you just said –“ Hurt blossomed across the sidekick’s expression, but that was better than the imploring guilt.

“Get some rest,” the villain said. “I’m – I’m very glad you’re alright.”

They didn’t exactly flee out of their sidekick’s room either, and then lurk in the corridors unsure where to go. Not at all. It was only that they weren’t entirely convinced their sidekick (maybe it was some form of mind control? Some kind of possession if they had the hero’s healing energy inside them?) wouldn’t hobble their way downstairs and ruin years of work on a pique of conscience.

It wasn’t like taking the hero in was a surprising outcome. It was merely making the best of a bad situation. Practical. Not heartless, practical.

They didn’t want to sit next to the hero either. It felt like trying to have a picnic next to an active super volcano. It would probably be fine, but if it wasn’t, everything would go up in ash and blood and destruction.

So, the villain stood in the corridor, outside the sidekick’s room, long enough to hear them starting to cry.

It was suddenly difficult to breathe.

Enough.

They were going to get to the bloody bottom of it.

They marched back down to the hero’s cell.