#Enigma AU | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

howtowhumpyourhiccup · 1 year ago

Text

Focus

Summary: Written for AI-less Whumptober 2023 Day 28. Set in my Magic AU. A successful spell of any kind requires concentration, something Hiccup lacks. Unfortunately, when he finds his focus, it’s on the wrong thing entirely.

Warning: /

Rating: Teen and Up

Characters: Hiccup, Snotlout, Astrid, Ruffnut, Tuffnut, Fishlegs, Viggo

Pairing: Slight Hiccstrid, Slight Vigcup

Words: 1 708

Fandom: How to Train Your Dragon

Prompt: Oxygen Deprivation, Sweating

Whumpee: Snotlout, Hiccup

Author’s Notes: Honestly love writing for this AU. And glad to add some Snotlout whump to this year's AI-less Whumptober!

Enjoy!

@ailesswhumptober

XOXOX

For as long as he’s been here, Viggo has been a mystery to Hiccup and he figures he always will be. One moment, the man has all the patience in the world for him and seeks to tutor him personally. The next, Hiccup is a stain on his existence. It’s a confusing dynamic that they have, one he doesn’t appear to have with anyone else in this castle.

“Take something and focus your magic for once in your life. Try the spinning top, maybe a child’s toy will finally help you grasp the basics!

Clearly, Viggo has never met an actual child before. But it is the reason why he had to go all the way down into the dungeon- now a place where artifacts and other nick-nacks are stored- to grab a child’s toy that hasn’t seen the light since the 1800s to practice his focus on. Because the key to a successful enchantment is focus, something Hiccup severely lacks. He blames the neurodivergency.

It’s lunchtime, but instead of taking a break, he’s taken the toy with him to the dining hall, where he sits at the table and, in every sense of the word, embarrasses himself in front of his newfound friend group.

“Oh, come on! Work with me here!” Hiccup moans in annoyance as he spins it only to watch it come to a slow stop, dashing whatever little hope he has. The point is to keep it spinning. Spinning, spinning, spinning, and spinning, for however long his concentration lasts. Endless motion.

Snotlout snickers. “This is just painful.”

Astrid kicks him underneath the table, he jumps and spills his soup. Ruffnut protests loudly when some of it splashes onto her pile of sandwiches.

“Maybe you’re not saying it correctly?” Fishlegs gently offers.

“Uh, Mr. Amazing over there? Mr. I’m-Awesome-At-Everything-I-Do? I thought he didn’t need to incant stuff?” Snotlout comes again as he uses his one napkin to clean it up. “No magic outside of class,” Viggo always says, but he’s pretty sure that rule only applies to him and the twins.

“Maybe you lack intent?” Astrid offers.

“I’m not sure what other intent besides “spin you stupid thing!” I can give it. I’m intenting the crap out of it! I’m going to be stuck at the basics forever,” Hiccup deflates.

Snotlout snickers again. “All the power in the world, still sucks.”

“Don’t you have soup to clean up?!” Astrid asks him, arms crossing.

“Uh, and who’s the reason I have soup to clean up?”

“Just go grab more napkins. Maybe it’s your unbelievably loud slurping that keeps distracting him,” she crosses her arms and Snotlout sends her a glare.

But it’s true. Partially. Hiccup can’t focus in the dining hall, but he couldn’t focus in the classroom either. There was this fly that kept buzzing around the room, coming close and then flying out of reach. His senses have always felt like they’re dialed up to 11, that’s just how his brain works, but it’s ten times worse when he’s trying to focus his magic on anything.

Hiccup brings his attention back on the top. Instead of spinning it beforehand, he lets it lie and tries to make it move that way. His fingers press against his temples, elbows on the table, as he glares at it as if it’ll help.

But the table doesn’t remain quiet, Snotlout gives him a glare and snickers before Astrid kicks him.

“Maybe it’s your nagging.”

“Maybe it’s your face!”

“Maybe you should just shut up, Snotlout! As a matter of fact, stop breathing! Just stop breathing in my general direction so I can finally concentrate!” Hiccup snaps at only one arguing half. It’s true that Snotlout’s constant slurping was also throwing him off. He knows he was doing it on purpose, he likes to make things hard for him.

Hiccup focuses back on the top, willing it to spin, but still nothing happens. He doesn’t understand why. He can feel the magic in his veins thrilling, reacting to his command, so why won’t the top just do as he asks?

“Hey-” Astrid comes.

“Astrid, not now,” what if he just glares really hard? Maybe that will help.

“No, seriously, you need to stop.”

“And I need every noise in the world to stop.”

“H-man, look at what you’re doing!” Tuffnut comes, sitting directly across from Snotlout.

“No, look!” Fishlegs yells and Hiccup just barely avoids a soup bowl thrown at his head.

Now standing, he looks at Snotlout to find his hands around his throat in a struggle. He makes no sound as he’s not getting any air. He’s not even choking, he’s simply not breathing.

“Hey, come on, man! Stop!” Ruffnut yells at him, also rising to her feet.

“I-I-I’m- I’m not-”

“Yes, you are!” Astrid states as she stands and grabs Hiccup’s hands. “Come on, you can do this. Just break your hold on him.”

“What do you mean “just break my hold on him?” I have no idea how I’m even doing this!” Comes Hiccup’s panicked reply.

In a frenzy, Snotlout jumps up from his seat and slams a fist on the table. He looks like he’s trying to make his lungs work, but it’s as if they’ve forgotten how to. Others in the dining hall watch them, whispering.

“Come on, Snotlout, breathe. Just breathe,” Fishlegs comes over and throws an arm around him. Ruffnut stands on his other side while Tuffnut kneels in front.

“Just do what we do!” He says as he and his sister breathe in and out in an exaggerated manner.

“None of that will help! The spell needs to be broken!”

Hiccup looks at each of his friends, panic causing his heart to race. He can’t focus, he can’t break anything.

And there Astrid goes, out the door. Saying something about Viggo, she bolts as fast as her athletic legs can carry her.

“Come on, man! You’re the one doing this!” One knows they’ve messed up when even Tuffnut is seriously mad.

“I don’t know what I’m doing!” He yells, hands in his hair.

Snotlout’s face turns a deep blue, he pounds on his own chest, but still his lungs won’t work. In Fishlegs’ arms he goes limp.

“Snotlout, no!” he yells, holding him up. All Hiccup can do is watch on in horror. “Hiccup, just stop!”

Hurried footsteps enter the dining hall. A large hand settles on Hiccup’s forehead from behind, the owner mutters an incantation about sleep, and his consciousness fades. Eyes rolling back, legs going limp, Viggo catches the young man and gently lowers him to the floor.

A dramatic gasp fills the dining hall, Snotlout finally takes his first breathe in what feels like an eternity. Without the strength to stand on his own two feet, he hangs onto Fishlegs sluggishly, barely conscious himself. Relief sweeps through the hall.

“Now would someone be so willing to tell me what in the Hell happened here?” Viggo is beyond angry, as he usually is whenever something of this magnitude goes wrong.

No one answers simply because they don’t know how to. They were eating, there was some banter and arguing, and the next thing they know Hiccup was passively choking the life out of Snotlout.

Viggo breathes through his teeth, realizing that his students don’t quite know how to answer that.

“Fools, all of you,” he mutters before taking off his dark blue vest to fold up and place beneath Hiccup’s head. It shouldn’t take too long for him to wake up.

Fishlegs helps Snotlout sit on a chair as he catches his breath. His lungs are burning, his body is weak, and the most terrible headache he’s ever experienced pounds inside his skull.

“He was… trying to kill me!” He gasps, a hand still on his chest.

“He wasn’t trying to kill you,” Viggo bites back at him. He was nose deep in a book when Astrid came bursting into his room and disturbed his peace.

“Sir, what did happen?” Astrid asks. She figures they’re all dying to know. How could Hiccup just enchant Snotlout like that and how did his hold on him not break? He was panicking just as much as the rest of them, probably even more so.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Viggo asks. “Our dear friend focused his magic on the wrong target. And instead of breaking his hold, his panic strengthened it.”

In a way, it makes sense, or so they suppose. Heavy emotions can make or break a spell.

“Take Snotlout to the infirmary. I’ll wait for him to awaken,” their mentor orders, referring to Hiccup, and they listen. While Fishlegs and Tuffnut take their shaken friend away, Astrid and Ruffnut are urged to follow. Astrid shoots a glance at Hiccup behind her.

In time, the entire dining hall runs empty of guests, leaving just the two of them.

It takes a couple of minutes longer, but Hiccup eventually comes to. He’s understandably sluggish as he awakens from a brief sleep put upon him by magical means.

“Viggo?” He’s confused to see him at first, but as the events preceding his passing out return to him, he sits up in a hurry.

“Snotlout! What-what happened to him? Is he- is he okay?!” He asks his mentor, who raises a hand to silence him.

“Snotlout was taken to the infirmary, but I suspect he’ll make a full recovery. You have nothing to worry about,” he assures him.

Hiccup sighs and pulls his knees up, settling his elbows on them and a hand in his hair. He wouldn’t exactly say that he has nothing to worry about. He almost killed Snotlout! By accident!

Viggo lays a hand on his shoulder and once again he’s showing a side to him that the others don’t get to see much. Or at all.

“You’ll learn to control it,” there’s almost confidence in his statement, but Hiccup isn’t sure how that will ever happen.

“Sure, like I haven’t been trying to learn my entire life,” he mutters as he rises to his feet. Viggo watches him leave, expression unreadable. The dining hall behind him, Hiccup retreats to his room, unsure how he’s going to face anyone ever again.

8 notes · View notes

anonymous-dentist · 5 months ago

Text

Bleeding Heart Part One

Or: Somebody is attacking members of the Federation of Heroes, and Cellbit is, for once, not the killer

(TW: Blood, Self Harm [by technicality])

----

Cellbit first hears about the attacks from Bagi while they're getting lunch together for the first time in almost a month.

"I've just been so busy," she sighs. She looks about one insult away from slamming Cellbit's face into the table, and she looks about one wet piece of lettuce away from slamming her own face into her salad.

Cellbit hums in response. He's been busy, too. Not with police work, but photo editing is fucking hard, okay? Especially when your apartment is a fucking war zone thanks to yet another patented Richarlyson Temper Tantrum.

Only a little annoyed, Cellbit pokes at his barbecue hard enough with his fork to scrape it against the plate.

Bagi scowls and kicks Cellbit underneath the table.

Cellbit kicks Bagi back, with purpose.

"Fuck you!" she snaps, stomping down hard on his foot.

Cellbit responds by snatching her glass of water from next to her plate and turning it over above her salad.

"What?" Cellbit casually asks as Bagi starts visibly shaking with rage. "At least I'm not stabbing you this time."

"You-" Bagi cuts herself off with a frustrated groan.

She reaches across the table and steals his plate; he lets her, the meat is a bit too well-done for his tastes.

Cellbit leans back in his seat and watches her stab into the barbecue with the rage of a goddamn beast.

"Aren't you vegan?" he asks her.

"Fuck you," she tensely responds. "I don't have the patience for this today. Between you and those fucking- the Federation, I'm going to lose it."

Cellbit tenses at the mention of the Federation- the Federation of Heroes: Q City's defense against supervillains and petty criminals alike, the unofficial backer of the city's educational system and the police force and the courts, and Cellbit's unrequited worst enemy.

His nose wrinkles in distaste. "What do they want?"

"What don't they want?" Bagi sighs. "I don't see why they need us to solve this if they're in charge of literally every superhero in the city. It's just a couple of assault cases, that's it."

...Ah.

Casually- oh, so casually, Cellbit rolls his eyes and cracks a grin.

"What, is someone going around and beating up Federation guys again?" he asks. "I thought Enigma was dead."

Bagi nods, annoyance written all across her face in big red letters. "He is, I was there when he died! But freaking Foolish-"

"Oh, God, Foolish is on this case?"

"The Federation requested him specifically, but he's like-" (She screws her voice up into something approximating her coworker's.) "'Oh, no, Bagi! It's the dead guy assaulting all these Federation guys!' Like? Enigma is dead, how the hell is he still getting assault charges?"

Cellbit shrugs. "You know how Foolish is. He's probably still pissed about never actually getting to figure out Enigma's secret identity. He's just salty."

"Yeah, well. Whatever."

"Whatever," Cellbit echoes.

Bagi, somehow, looks much closer to death. She looks tired, but that's just what happens when you're stuck dealing with Cucurucho for an extended period of time; Cellbit swears he only gets sleep when Cucurucho is out of the city on official Federation business.

Now, Cellbit should probably be grilling his sister for more information. Any enemy of the Federation of Heroes is a friend of his, and he's got some contacts that he might want to hook this mystery person up with.

But.

Smile softening just slightly, Cellbit asks, "How has Empanada been? Is she doing better at this new school?"

Bagi's entire being brightens up, and she starts talking about her daughter's first day at her new school and how Empanada had the best time and how the school is actually accommodating for her disabilities and how... Well, Cellbit stops listening after a couple of minutes while he starts thinking about his own child.

Oh, Richarlyson.

He's so grounded.

But, funnily enough, it's while he's walking Richarlyson to school a week later that Cellbit finds the first official murder victim of Bagi's mystery assaulter.

"Oh," says Cellbit, looking down at the corpse lounging in front of his apartment building surrounded by its own brains and blood.

He blocks Richarlyson from following him out the door, much to Richarlyson's annoyance.

"What is it?" Richarlyson asks, squirming and trying to slip under Cellbit's arm. "I wanna see!"

"I think your other dads would kill me," Cellbit replies. He glances over his shoulder and down. "Can you go get my camera for me? I'll let you carry it to school."

Eyes widening excitedly, Richarlyson turns on his heel and bolts up the stairs.

As soon as he's gone, Cellbit looks back at the corpse.

It isn't a particularly good corpse. It's... messy. Too many wounds, too random. Skull fracture and cave-in seems accidental based off the location of the fracture and the location of the body; the killer probably smashed the victim's head against the building's railing and killed them just like that.

It's early in the morning. Early enough that Cellbit's street is basically empty; the Favela isn't really ever quiet, but people are smart enough to stay off the streets from sundown until sun-up. And the Federation of Heroes isn't dumb enough to try putting cameras up in a place like the Favela; it'd be a waste of money with how many times they'd have to replace them all.

So nobody is there to watch as Cellbit crouches next to the corpse and sticks a finger in the puddle of blood.

(Water holds memories, and blood is ninety-two percent water, so...)

The blood ripples like a lake after a stone was tossed into it, waves moving from Cellbit's finger outwards.

And then-

"Pai! I got it!"

Cellbit swiftly stands and turns and hides his hand in his coat pocket and smiles a thanks at Richarlyson. Damnit.

"Did you remember to lock the door behind you?" Cellbit asks.

He tries to block the view of the corpse again, but Richarlyson just barely manages to squeeze past him and out the door.

Cellbit sighs, "Don't tell your Pai Pac I let you see this. He'll kill me."

Richarlyson stares down at the body, frozen in shock.

Well. At least he isn't screaming?

Cellbit slings his camera bag over his shoulder and pulls his camera out. He's got work to do.

"Why do their brains look like that?" Richarlyson asks, nose wrinkled. "Gross."

"Brains don't look like they do in the movies," Cellbit explains, moving past Richarlyson and turning his camera on. He points it at the corpse's face, and he clicks the button. "They're a lot more... gooey. Not as solid as you'd think. It's mostly just the skull keeping them together."

"Really?"

"No, this is just kind of fucked up."

Richarlyson sits on the steps, arms crossed across his knees. He watches Cellbit work, not as disturbed as Cellbit thought he'd be. But, well, he is Richarlyson. He's seen worse than loose brains and a bit of blood. This is nothing.

"I think I know them," Richarlyson says after a bit.

Cellbit glaces up at him, camera focused on the bloody railing.

Richarlyson thinks some more, and then he nods. "Yeah, okay, so I don't know them, but I know their face! They were on the news last week! Super Hamster!"

Super... oh, right. Super Hamster, one of the Federation's newest recruits. Super low-ranked hero who spends their patrols getting cats out of trees and doing battle with a similarly low-ranked villain named Mongoose Man. Kind of stupid, but in a dumb college student way. Weird interviews. Weirder costume.

Cellbit lowers his camera and looks the corpse in the face. Super Hamster wore a mask over their eyes, but the cheeks and chin look the same...

Oh. Oh no.

God. Damnit.

Okay, so.

So.

Once upon a time, there was a supervillain named Enigma. He was a bit of a serial killer, but he only attacked and killed those affiliated with the Federation of Heroes: office workers, doctors, weapons suppliers. Heroes.

He did this for years. He founded the Order of Villains alongside fellow villains: the Demon and Crow Man. He killed dozens upon dozens of people, took down seemingly-endless numbers of rookie and professional heroes alike, made himself a reputation as the worst villain Q City had ever known.

And then he died.

There was an explosion during a chase he and the Federation's Sharkboy were involved in. Sharkboy was sent into early civilian retirement. Enigma was sent to his grave.

But.

Cellbit slinks his way down the alley with his camera bag slung over his shoulder. He's wearing sunglasses and a black surgical mask leftover from the last time Richarlyson was sick, and his hair is mostly hidden under a borrowed baseball cap.

Recently, according to both Bagi and the evening news, people seem to think that Enigma has done the impossible and risen from the grave. Somehow.

The thing is, the new guy doesn't kill the same way that Enigma did. Enigma used weapons the color of fresh blood. All reports from surviving victims of "Enigma" mention someone with a black sword and-slash-or a steel baseball bat.

Honestly? Cellbit wishes this new killer all the luck in the world. Going up against the Federation is risky business; that's why Cellbit retired in the first place: his family was at risk.

But, really, Cellbit can't have the rumors about Enigma's return continue to go around. They're making everyone pay too much attention to everyone else, and Cellbit really doesn't like getting stared at.

He really, really doesn't like getting stared at by Pac of all people.

So. For Pac's sake, and for Pac's sake only, Cellbit is on the prowl tonight. He's been studying up on the assault cases that Bagi has been investigating, and he's determined that nearly all of the assaults happened within a three-block circumference of the Federation's main building downtown. The outlier so far is Super Hamster, who was apparently Cellbit's upstairs neighbor before their death.

So. Downtown.

Cellbit doesn't have much on him. He has his phone and wallet, and he has a pocketknife and a pocket first aid kit. He's wearing gloves to hide his fingerprints, and because he knows better than to make skin-to-skin contact with an unknown super. (Because the new guy is a super, Cellbit can just tell; who else would have the balls to fight other supers hand-to-hand?)

And, of course, he has his camera. He needs to get proof for Pac, and then he'll get Pac to deliver the pictures to the right people.

Enigma might be dead, but "Enigma" would fit right in with the Order of Villains.

Cellbit steps out of the alley and looks up at the imposing Federation building rising above the buildings around him. It's big and white and glowing and shaped like the letter 'F' and it's fucking ugly, but it's also absolutely terrifying.

("Dispose of him.")

A helicopter lands on the Federation building's roof. Cellbit hopes it fucking crashes after takeoff.

With a sigh, Cellbit turns on his heel and starts down the street towards the building. He looks suspicious as hell, but he also has his P.I.'s license in his wallet if he needs to pull it out.

(He may not be an investigator anymore, but the license doesn't expire for another couple of years. Thanks, Federation!)

There's an itch on the back of Cellbit's neck. A mosquito, probably; it's summer, unfortunately.

Cellbit raises his hand to swat the bug away.

He blinks, and there's a figure in front of him standing beneath a streetlight in all black: hoodie, cargo shorts, what are probably athletic leggings beneath them, gas mask, and- for some reason- a medieval-style cloak with the hood pulled up.

Their hand rests on a sword hung on their side.

Cellbit doesn't so much as blink. Interesting outfit; the gas mask is a nice touch. Probably hiding a voice modulator inside it.

The sword almost seems to sing with all the blood coating it. Fresh blood, still dripping.

Slowly, Cellbit lowers his hand.

"Hey," he lamely says. "Nice cloak."

The killer's head slowly tilts to one side.

A deep, gravelly, very artificial-sounding voice drawls out, "You are not one of theirs."

Oh, so the killer is a nerd. That's cool. They'll fit in great with the Order.

Cellbit shakes his head. "No. I'm not. I'm on your side, actually. I'm just-"

The killer laughs, long and drawn out and painful sounding.

They shake their head slowly. "Don't fuck with me. No one is on my side."

Oh, so the killer is a depressed nerd. Who has obviously read a few too many comic books with how they're talking.

"No," Cellbit quickly says, "but I am. I hate those guys!"

The killer is silent. Still.

Cellbit watches them just stand there.

Swallowing a lump of anticipation in his throat, Cellbit continues:

"The Federation sucks. Everyone who works for it, or with it, deserves to die. I agree with you! But you-"

He cuts himself off with a gasp of pain as the killer vanishes in front of him and as a sharp blade stings along his ribcage from behind.

"Shit!" the killer snaps, voice modulator staticking in panic.

Cellbit staggers forward and throws himself onto the ground, careful not to crush his camera back. His sunglasses come flying off, but fuck them, he stole them, anyway.

His hand flies to his side, and it comes away bloody.

He grins. Perfect.

The killer lunges at him with his sword, aiming right for Cellbit's chest, but-

Cellbit raises his hand to catch the sword, hissing as the blade sinks into the palm of his hand. It cuts right through his glove like it was made of butter, but fuck the gloves, he stole them, anyway.

The killer freezes, confused as Cellbit drags his hand up the length of the blade. His blood drips down onto his hoodie, staining it dark.

"I told you," Cellbit growls, clenching his hand down and grinning. "I'm on your side."

And then Cellbit jerks his hand back and rolls to the side, narrowly dodging a stab to the chest. He raises his hand just in time for the blood running down his arm to ripple and start running backwards.

The killer must catch the movement, because they swing their sword towards Cellbit's wrist. Smart thought, but too late.

Steel clashes against iron with sparks and nausea as the killer's blade meets Cellbit's own.

Vaguely, Cellbit can see the killer's eyes widen through the goggles of their mask.

Cellbit swallows down a fever as he pulls the blood off of his hoodie and forms it into a tiny buckler shield. (If this other guy wants to go medieval, so will Cellbit.)

And then he pushes upwards with his blood sword with all his strength, forcing the killer to take a step backwards to keep themselves from falling on their ass.

"The cameras in this part of the city don't work," Cellbit breathes, pushing himself to his feet and desperately trying not to collapse under the weight of his own being. "You know this, but how? Only the Federation knows. They planned it this way. Job security."

"How do you know, culero?" the killer snaps.

They spin their sword once, look Cellbit over, and freeze.

Cellbit frowns. Just like before...

But then what happened before was-

Eyes widening in realization, Cellbit ducks to the side, just barely getting grazed by a sword skimming across the back of his neck.

The killer groans and tries again, this time catching the meat of Cellbit's bicep.

Cellbit groans, but he forces his blood to push the sword out of his body. It does so with a little protest, too weak to do much, but it manages.

"Enigma," the killer breathes. "You're supposed to be dead, man!"

"I am," Cellbit lowly says.

He hunches over slightly, more than a little out of practice. He holds his shield in front of himself, his sword quivering and at the ready.

"This is great!" the killer excitedly says. "Now that I know it's you..."

They lower their sword and sheathe it, practically bouncing on their toes. Their eyes glitter behind their mask, but they betray nothing.

"...we can team up!" they finish.

They reach a hand out.

Cellbit steps back warily. He holds his sword level with the killer's throat; it drips onto the sidewalk, blood splattering everywhere.

"I'm dead," Cellbit snaps. "You weren't supposed to even see me tonight! I just- oh, fuck."

He groans as a wave of heat washes over him. Pre-faint symptoms, he's close. He used to be better at this, fuck.

He staggers, both his sword and shield splashing onto the ground as he loses his hold over their forms. He braces himself against a streetlight, the same one he first saw the killer under, and he tries not to vomit.

The killer rushes towards him, gloved hands hesitating awkwardly next to his shoulders.

"You okay?" the killer asks. Even through their modulator, they sound concerned. Okay.

"I'm fine," Cellbit wheezes. He waves them off with a glare. "You just- I need proof. That it isn't me this time."

The killer stops breathing. They stop breathing for a long time.

And then they're next to Cellbit rather than in front of him holding his camera.

Cellbit's eyes widen. "Hey, no! Put that back!"

"Relax," the killer says, smile evident in their voice. "I'm getting you proof."

Cellbit's head spins. He hears the camera snap, and then he's on the ground. Oooohh, he's out of practice. (But isn't that a good thing?)

Another camera snap, and he's dry heaving. He hasn't eaten enough to be able to actually throw up anything, but his body sure wants him to try.

"Shit, hold on!" the killer exclaims, and then Cellbit knows nothing.

He wakes up to the familiar sound of the beeping of a heart monitor. There's a familiar alien sensation in his arm- I.V. drip, okay.

Okay, he's at the hospital.

Eyes flickering open, Cellbit lets out a sigh. Bagi is going to hate this.

"Fuck," he sighs, staring up at the ceiling.

Once upon a time, Enigma was the most feared villain in the city. But then he got a son, and he found his long-lost twin sister, and he realized that dying either from blood loss or from Federation execution wasn't the ending he wanted anymore. He wanted to live, and so Enigma had to die.

Cellbit hasn't passed out from blood loss since he was just starting out as a villain. It's been almost a decade since then, and he's definitely lost his touch. But that's for the better, really. He doesn't need to use his powers for that kind of stuff anymore. He can heal his son's wounds. He can read the lives of the deceased.

...Or, he would if he could.

He's startled out of his thoughts as someone comes into his room with an armload of vending machine snacks.

"Oh!" the new person exclaims, eyes widening. "You're alive!"

Cellbit doesn't know this person, but he thinks that he wants to.

"Who are you?" Cellbit croaks. "What happened?"

He was with the killer... and then he passed out... and...

"Oh, yeah, so I was walking home from work, and I found you all bloody and passed out on the sidewalk," the man explains.

He sits in the chair by Cellbit's bed, and then he dumps his snacks on the bed and lets out a sigh.

"I'm glad you're okay," he continues. "I was seriously worried."

Cellbit blinks. He's tired, God.

"My camera?" he asks.

"Over there," the man replies. He points towards the other side of the room with his head. "That Hombre Misterioso left it behind when he saw me there."

Cellbit frowns. "Hombre...?"

"Hombre Misterioso. The guy killing all those Federation workers? Apparently, he took a bunch of pictures of himself and managed to send them to the police. That's what they're calling him."

Cellbit's brain ticks away. "Doesn't that just mean 'mysterious guy' in Spanish?"

"Ay, you know Spanish?" The man grins. "That's cool!"

"I'm Brazilian," Cellbit murmurs, not really answering.

He gives the man an appraising look: brown hair, soft looking; dark eyes, glittering; red t-shirt, form-fitting; blue bandana, goofy. Biceps.

The man catches his gaze and winks.

"I'm Roier," he says.

Cellbit gives up on his analyzing; he'll get back to it when he isn't still so drained from losing so much blood.

"Cellbit," he replies. "Thank you for saving me."

"Nah, it's nothing."

(Roier's smile is sharp-toothed and positively breathtaking [or maybe that's just the blood loss talking.])

"Thank you for waking up."

#a.d.'s fics i suppose #a.d.'s fics i suppose.#enigma misterioso au #tw self harm #tw blood #fun fact! his blood loss symptoms are something i myself know intimately #pre-faint symptoms are no joke!

178 notes · View notes