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Everything hurts. He can feel dried blood coating one side of his face, crackling as he twitches. He is sure his shoulder is not supposed to look like that. He presses a broken hand to his mouth, a wet cough rattling past chapped lips. Bringing his hand away, he sees a splatter of red.
He blinks slowly, eyelids heavy. He is not quite sure how he got here. Last he could remember, he had been fighting … someone? The costume wasn’t familiar, nor the abilities. The fight had raged long, leaving a path of destruction in its wake. Though injured, he seemed to have the upper hand, slinging around his signature knives interspersed with broken masonry. Until a dart hit him in the shoulder and he felt all of the strength drain from his body. He has no idea how he escaped to this rooftop, nor from the fight at all.
He twitches his fingers. A discarded can beside him slightly rises, trembling violently, before clattering to the ground. The following attempt, it doesn’t move at all. “Ah, fuck,” the superhero murmurs. “That’s not good.” In this condition, and without his powers to protect him, he is practically helpless.
Nightowl feels his vision blur and he sways on his head, unsteady. His ears are ringing and he can barely think through the dizziness. He falls forward, hitting the ground with a resounding thud. Everything goes black.
He comes to with a finger poking insistently at his shoulder. Nightowl groans, blinking his eyes into focus. He freezes. Before him stands a very familiar figure: Mindwipe. The supervillain who has been dominating the headlines for the last year, and also the one who seemed weirdly obsessed with him. With the ability to pull true answers from anyone and to rob them of their memories afterwards, his crimes are often not noticed until well after the fact. Nightowl has faced him numerous times now but has yet to truly best him.
Almost completely vulnerable and his powers proving to be non-existent, Nightowl knows there is nothing he can do. Besides, he is just so tired. What is even the point in fighting any more? Bowing his head, he accepts his fate, only hoping it will be a swift one.
To his surprise, instead of a knife to the throat, a calloused finger under his chin forces his head up. Mindwipe’s gaze scans his body, momentarily lingering on each visible wound.
“Who did this to you?” Mindwipe’s eyes, the only part of his face that are visible with the mask, shine in anger.
Nightowl chuckles slightly, the movement jostling his shattered ribs. “What, so you can congratulate them or something?”
Mindwipe scrunches his brow. “I said, who did this to you?” His voice is echoed by something deeper and Nightowl finds himself helpless to resist.
“I didn’t recognise them. Dark grey jumpsuit, full face mask, no obvious powers. They hit me with a dart that blocked my powers.” No matter how he tries to hold them in, the words are pulled out of his mouth. Mindwipe nods thoughtfully, breaking the connection with a flick of one hand.
Nightowl wrenches his head backwards, trembling a little. No matter how many times he goes through that, it is still an awful experience.
The villain sits back on his heels, contemplative. “That’s not a figure I recognise. New on the scene? And a dart that can mute powers is not a fucking good thing.”
The superhero just sits on, confused. Where was the grandstanding? The inevitable attack? Mindwipe has the perfect opportunity to take him out once and for all, but instead he is seemingly concerned about his enemy? None of this makes sense.
“Why are you doing this?” whispers Nightowl. “If you are going to kill me, please just get it over with.”
Mindwipe looks at him with no small amount of pity. “Not like this. The win would be … pointless. Useless. Not a win at all, not when you’re this weak from someone else.”
He rises to his feet, beginning to pace a little. “You are the only one who truly challenges me. What is the point of being a supervillain without a superhero that is matched in strength? You’re my rival, mine and no one else. They don’t deserve to lay a finger on you …”
Mindwipe whips back around, cape trailing behind him. “I don’t like people encroaching on my turf. I’ll deal with this little problem. You just focus on healing. Here.” He flips a phone towards Nightowl who, in his agony, watches it pass his hands to clatter at his feet. “Call someone. I know you have contacts who heal. You are not going to just give up on this rooftop.”
The hero nods, not sure what else he can do. “Fine.” He pulls together the final shreds of his resolve. “And then I’ll face you with my full strength, and we will decide this once and for all.” He pauses. “You know,” Nightowl whispers, “You can’t be all that bad if you still have a shred of decency to not kick someone when they are down. Hell, if we had met under different circumstances, I think we could have been friends.”
Mindwipe scoffs. “I wouldn’t go that far. Mark my words, once you are all healed up, I’ll be showing you who is truly superior. But for now, I’ve got a little rat to catch.”