Chapter Text
Serapter should be desensitised at this point. He has seen wounds before, lots of them.
Most of them by his own hand.
But this is different. He swears it is different. It has to be different, for justification’s sake. This is a civilian. Someone who must have walked into the brawl and gotten caught in the crossfire. Something, no matter how much the heroes tried to cover up, that was a major cause of death. Especially around these parts of Emberton.
Serapter is a kind person, at the very least as kind as he can be, given his… unfortunate career. His friends say so, anyway. He got handed the title supervillain and kind of rolled with it. What was he supposed to do, barge into the broadcasting tower and say ‘um, actually, I label myself as somewhat of a vigilante.’ It didn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. He does the same work as he did when he was seen as otherwise, if not better, in favour of the subconscious restraint of his public image.
Yeah, that’s a good thing, Sera. You’re doing good. This is a good thing.
The alleyway is dark. It is, what, two in the morning? Sometime adjacent. Too late to be doing anything but making his way back to base. A place where he is near the entrance of. He should just go in. The others would be worried.
His attention is just… partially averted right now. Of the figure slouched on the wall near where the syndicate base is. Unnervingly, obliviously near. His syndicate base, though it's more of a group effort, really.
He glances at the person he is standing over. Does a once-over for weapons, mainly knives. Unconscious. Could be a trap, but the heroes don’t know about the location of the base. They would have raided them by now, if they did. So it’s unlikely.
No, not a trap, then. Just an idiot. An unlucky idiot.
Serapter is in a silent struggle for a few more moments. He’s a villain, for fuck sake! He shouldn't have moral dilemmas at this stage in his career. It's soft. He has always been soft.
But the Hemlocks are long gone. Monarch and Sakura retreated like, an hour ago, and his syndicate had gotten away before anything major happened. He had scouted for any of the heroes to have followed them. There was minimal danger in this. If they somehow pulled off his mask, he would kill them. Simple as that.
...
Fuck it. His saviour complex is what got him into this whole hero/villain mess anyway, and many other unfortunate situations besides. He can deal with this, like he has done with most other situations.
By… helping an unconscious person on syndicate territory. Ross would have pulled them in for questioning, by now. Div would have made sure they never woke up, simply for the audacity of being there.
The person groaned, a deep, guttural sound that definitely did not make Serapter wince. Before he did another once-over to make sure the figure was still unconscious. Whatever wound inflicted must be painful. Painful enough to still be agonising while passed out.
Serapter crouches decidedly. He isn’t a good person, but he isn’t bad either. No matter what the media says. It’s all hero-favoring propaganda anyway. He hasn’t picked up a newspaper since the vigilante laws were put into place.
He’s close to the man, but not in knife-slashing range.
Right. It's dark. Light. He needs light. He can do light.
The feeling comes as natural as a heartbeat by now, a warm sort of wave that starts in his stomach. One. He pictures it making its way up to his arm. Two. down his wrist. Three. To the tips of his fingers.
He opens his eyes. The light, dancing on his fingers, flickers, warm and casting shadows on the sight before him.
Oh, god.
Serapter isn’t sensitive when it comes to blood. No matter what Div, or Bitotter says. He is perfectly capable of assisting Ivory when needed. She just… doesn’t need help often. Yeah. That’s it.
But lame excuses are the least of his troubles, because he has bigger fish to fry.
The fish being the blood staining the tarmac of the alley this person had so unfortunately passed the fuck out in, and the very imminent threat of this guy dying from the very large, very inconveniently placed slash on their eye.
At a second glance, (Serapter definitely did not avert his eyes, thank you very much) The wound goes from about half of the length of their forehead to the start of their cheek. That was… sure to leave a scar.
“Aw, man.” Serapter whispered to himself, the voice changer -One cleverly implemented in his mask- crackling slightly. He had a weird habit of trying to be lighthearted in tense periods, a quirk he probably got from Maddy, bless her soul.
Serapter muttered some half-assed apology as he inched closer, pulled out his knife, and tore some of the man’s shirt off.
He was in too deep. He couldn’t just leave this person, not after making the conscious decision to help them.
But at the same time, he couldn’t do much medically. He didn’t have a healing power, like Ivory. He had no bandages or antiseptic. Sure, he knew how to do simple tasks for when Bit was absent, but that was few and far-between. He was out of his element, and frankly, underqualified as fuck.
With the piece of fabric Serapter had, he draped it over the person’s eye, tying it at the back of their head to form a crude sort of eyepatch. He was so focused on his -albeit scuffed- handiwork, he didn’t notice the individual’s fingers twitch.
So Serapter didn’t have a choice. He had a healer, and although Div would be pissed-
A blade was pointed at his chest. Small, roughly the size of a butter knife, but dangerous nonetheless. Serapter’s light, the only source brightening the alleyway. They were both shrouded in darkness. The only thing he could make out was the silhouette of a scuffed sort of bandage -or, as much of a bandage as shirt fabric can be- over their right eye.
”Helios.” The figure hissed, not only in fear but also… recognition.
There was a certain reputation one gains with the title ‘supervillain’. Enough that people recognise you, or rather, your persona. One that carried on to even your powers. Luminokinesis, admittedly, was a rather recognisable one.
Along with his signature star-shaped mask, piercing red eyes, and... yeah… there was no mistaking him. No chance of pretending to be a civilian. No place to hide. He deliberated on blinding the person, but that may cause their hand to jerk.
He was, quite frankly, fucked.
“-heyheyhey, I wasn’t going to attack you or anything! I was, like, trying to help you and shit.” Serapter rushed to say, his hands going up in an attempt to neutralize the threat. By babbling. Great job, Sera.
There are two mindsets of someone with a knife. One, angry. They want to deliberately hurt another because they feel it is justified. They know what they are doing and go along with it anyway, because they want to see that person suffer for whatever reason.
And, the one that is most likely the case this time; Scared. The person is in fear for their or another’s life, so they act out of desperation. Hypothetically, if Serapter could somehow manage to convince the bandaged individual that he isn’t a threat, they may put the knife down.
Maybe.
Walking back would be a death sentence. He was already crouched in front of the civilian. Instead, Serapter kept his eyes fixed on the other’s gaze. Eye contact is a sign of trust. At least that’s what Maddy said. Their eyes were blue. Or rather, eye. He couldn’t see the other for obvious reason. He could see the bandaged individual’s eyes unfocus for a fraction of a second. The guy must be running on pure adrenaline.
“Bullshit. You’re a villain, You don’t save people. That's the hero's job.” They said through gritted teeth, the result of either anger or the sheer pain of the wound, it was unclear. God, they sounded so sure. their tone was both mocking Serapter and the sheer audacity of his statement.
“Look, dude. You’re practically dying. Why else would I try to stop the bleeding, why would I help you, if I was planning to kill you?” Serapter reasoned, not denying the earlier statement.
The other person looked unsure. Logic had that effect.
“You’re a villain. fuck-” The knifed man stated slowly, as if disbelieving. A hiss of pain cut him off. The knife stayed put. Actually, observing, the knife never moved. It was stupidly steady for someone recently slashed in the eye. Must be fucking excruciating.
Serapter nodded.
“Helios, as you said.” He clarified.
“And you want to help me?” They were thinking this over. Good. That was… progress. Something like that. Their eyes were deconcentrating more frequently, the pain must be getting to them.
Serapter nodded.
God, what did he get himself into?
There was something in the person’s eyes that was calculating, even from when they woke up. They were the smart type, then. Serapter could work with that.
“Look, I have a- um, healer. She can make you not die.” He said. Why did he have to joke when faced with a serious situation? Pick like, any other coping mechanism. It was good for a sneaky quip mid-fight, but still.
The person’s eyes flashed with something like humour.
“Why?” they said, blinking one too many times, as if fighting consciousness. They probably were, Serapter didn’t blame them.
Serapter thought for a moment, before settling on something at least partially truthful.
“You were in the way.”
That was the last sentence they heard before passing out again.
Serapter had shit to explain when he got back.