forum OxO with Fraust

Started February 23, 2021 by @King_Cyrus

tune

Alrighty! I'll probably let you write out the starter if that's chill with you since I have to get ready for bed and do an assignment, but I can reply as soon as I finish those 👌

Ope— alright. I'll try to get around to it. My fren is stressin me out rn so it might be a bit but I should have it up tonight. Where should we start?

Np! And we can probably either start with them fighting or with Keitan already injured :)

((Well it sucks eggs but here it be))

Maybe it was odd, but Harv sorta liked the way it felt when his clenched fist smashed into the jaw of a hero. There was some strange pleasure in the sound of his knuckles slamming against their face, against their bones, some strange satisfaction in rattling their skulls. What was it? Was it the power-trip he got from knowing he had overpowered another one of society's worthless idols? Or was it something deeper than that? Was it the realization that they were fake? That they deserved every bloodied nose, broken bone, busted lip, and bruise for all of the lies they had told and all of crimes that they hid behind their phony smiles and empty promises?

Possibly a little bit of both.

It was another normal Tuesday night, and Harv was in the process of pummeling some little C-stringer hero he'd never seen before. Small hero, but that wasn't too big of a shocker given the fact that heroes came in all shapes and sizes these days. They'd gotten in his way while he was on his way to accomplish some other task— likely killing a different hero, honestly— and, in all truth, he was getting some enjoyment out of fighting with this one, whoever the heck they thought they were.

"Oh, come on," he taunted, a smirk tugging at his lips— though it was concealed by his mask. His hood had fallen down at some point, though he didn't seem to mind; his identity was still fully hidden. "You can do better than that, can't ya?" He swung again at the hero, white electricity lighting up his gloved hands with a loud crackling buzz. "Because I sure can."

(It's great!)
It seemed like these villain attacks were only growing more frequent as time went on. Some targeted buildings, some targeted civilians, and some had eyes only for the heroes of the city. Keitan couldn't blame them, honestly; the majority of the 'heroes' in this city were only in it for the money and the glory. He considered himself to be one of the very rare few who actually just wanted to make a difference.

Keitan had been walking alone downtown at the time of the attack, and decided to take the situation into his own hands. He quickly changed in the nearest building to preserve his identity and ran out to combat whichever villain had decided to strike today. His heart skipped a beat when he saw who it was. The Reformer… he's one of the ones who targets heroes. He shook his head a bit to try and clear the fear and jumped up onto the side of a building, forming water blades in one hand to send Harvey's way.

He was shaking violently after a while, his body aching horribly from blow after blow. Thankfully, his dark goggles and mask concealed the pained tears rolling down his cheeks, but he couldn't hide the shaking. He couldn't speak for fear of breaking his cover, so he just had to take the pain. Suddenly, white hot pain coursed through his body and every nerve in his body crackled and stood on end. Time slowed, and his ears rung so loudly that he couldn't hear his own agonized screams. He hit the ground and found himself hopelessly gasping for breath, the wind knocked out of him from the impact. His suit was torn, and he was bleeding from several places. Please don't kill me… please don't kill me… I don't want to die…
(And aa, this feels so long adfhjkk hopefully it's good qwq)

(It's excellent! Poor lil Keitan tho. Hang in there bro.)

Harv let out a short bark of a laugh and pressed his boot down on his fallen foe's shoulder. "I don't think water powers work all that well against electricity. Kudos for trying though." He stomped harder, letting his full weight rest on the hero as he stooped down closer. "So… where are the cameras then, huh?" He sniffed absently. There had to be a camera or something around here somewhere or else the hero probably wouldn't have acknowledged him; rarely do they ever actually make a move if no one is going to get to hear about it.

He glanced around once; the area where they were was hardly trafficked, which meant there might not've been any cameras stationed anywhere nearby. But, probably. "Eh, doesn't matter. You know who I am, right?" He reached into his belt and pulled out a long jagged dagger-like blade, running his fingers carefully along the side of the shiny object. "Which means you know how I feel 'bout people like you."

(<33)
Keitan hissed through his teeth in pain when Harvey stepped on his shoulder, having more and more difficulty breathing through his mask. He was weak and defeated, clearly. He could have attempted to force Harvey back with his powers, but he didn't have the energy to keep fighting afterwards even if he had managed it.

His breathing was sharp and shallow; quick little breaths indicative of a panicked person. He hiccuped a couple of times as well, betraying his tears despite them not being visible, and he was still shaking violently. He closed his eyes, not wanting to resign himself to his fate, but figuring he had no choice.

"P-Please…" He whispered, his soft voice higher than what would be expected. It was filled with fear, every ounce of the word quavering and desperate. "Please don't kill me… I-I don't… I don't wanna die… please…" He was hyperventilating now, knowing his cover was blown, but too terrified to give it much mind. His words faltered and squeaked, the awkward, nervous voice of a preteen. He wasn't ready for this, and he had been a fool to think he was.

(Thank you! Now if I can just get over the depressing fact that the person I love left me for someone who doesn't care about them half as much as I do, we'll be all set— haha it's chill. Also my reply be wonk so I apologizezeze)

Harv's brow furrowed, eyes narrowing at the broken heap of a person on the ground. He promptly reached down, grasping the fabric of the hero's mask between his fingers and jerking it down to reveal their face; under general circumstances, he took his time in revealing the hero's identity (normally for dramatic effect)— but this circumstance had just morphed into anything but general.

"Oh frick—" Harv froze momentarily as the realization set in. It made sense; he should've noticed sooner. He was just used to so much variation in the hero world that it didn't really cross his mind about the hero's age or experience— "You're a little kid?"

(Np <33)
Keitan squirmed and gasped in pain, curling up as he clutched at his probably-broken shoulder. "I-I'm not— little…" He replied weakly through his tears, his voice faltering and cracking again. He was hyperventilating and woozy, and he felt like he was going to pass out or throw up.

Since he normally only dealt with petty crime, he had never been roughed up quite like this before. Everything hurt, his hair stood on end, his whole body felt like it was sparking and tingling, and he was sure he was bleeding from several places. All of that in addition to the broken shoulder, and he wasn't handling it very well.

"Heck if you're not. What are you? Like ten or eleven years old? Oh crap—" Harv glanced down at the injuries that the kid had sustained by his hands, trying not to let guilt overshadow his thoughts. After all, it wasn't his fault that he didn't know how old the guy was— There are all kinds of small-fry heroes who are like thirty years old. Nothing is normal in this city anymore.

But that didn't seem to make Harv feel any better.

He shoved the blade he'd been carrying back into the sheath on his side; it wasn't like he intended to use it on someone who looked like they hadn't even hit puberty yet. "Why the frick is a middle-schooler jumping around out here like some kind of Spider-Man wannabe?" Whether the question was rhetorical or just Harv thinking aloud remained unclear, but he didn't wait for a response. "Is this some kind of setup?" Surely the heroes wouldn't stoop so low as to send a child to fight him, just to give him bad publicity. Or maybe they would.

"Oh, crap. Oh crap." Harv grimaced behind his mask as the reality of the situation sank in more. He had just beat up a kid. Not just beat up— thoroughly pummeled, as well as electrocuted. And now the poor boy was writhing on the ground like some kind of dying animal.

Not good.

"I'm thirteen and—" Keitan lapsed into a coughing fit for a few seconds, "—a-and this isn't a set up…" He curled in on himself, tightly hugging his stomach with his good arm. "Nngh… o-oh god…" He whispered, a couple more pained tears rolling down his pale cheeks.

"There's no… t-there's no cameras anywhere, if that's what you were wondering…" He muttered, his voice tight from pain and disgust. He obviously held a certain disdain for other 'heroes'. "I'm not here for thanks or publicity or money, n-not that I'd get any even if I wanted it."

He started coughing again, shaking violently where he lay on the cold pavement. "It h-hurts…" He whispered, whimpering softly and curling up tighter. "Nngh…"

Harv stood up quickly, pulling his eyes away from his unfortunately young victim for only a split second to scan his surroundings for any bystanders or witnesses. Not another soul in sight.

"Thirteen," he repeated absently, thoughts whirling in his brain faster than he could keep up with them. Everything had been fine and peachy before he realized this kid was— well, a kid. His night was going great. He was beatin' up a hero, serving justice, planning on going home and maybe making a nice meatloaf after this was all over with— but no, his night had to get alllll screwed up by the fact that he just beat the snot out of a minor.

He sucked in a breath, trying not to get too stressed. It was fine. It was fine. He'd just… call an ambulance, and the authorities would take the kid to the hospital. Yea, that would work. Right? Maybe? He… wasn't sure. He'd never beat up anyone and then immediately regretted it before.

"Okay, okay—" Harv stooped back down next to the boy. The poor kid looked awful— far too young for this. It made Harv's stomach twist to think that he had done this. "Listen kid, you're gonna be alright. I'm not gonna hurt you anymore; I didn't know you were just— uh, so young." Yea, this probably sounded weird coming from the villain who was just pounding you into the pavement, but Harvey didn't know what he was supposed to say after all that. Who knew anyone could feel both so guilty and so awkward about a situation? "I can call an ambulance for you. Or your parents." His gaze flickered to the boy's bloodied costume. "Er, maybe not. How important is it that your identity is kept a secret?"

As a long-time villain, that consideration was always on his mind.

Keitan looked up at Harvey weakly as he spoke, seeming a little out of it at this point. His ears were ringing, and he couldn't hear Harvey incredibly well. He stared at the man blankly for a few seconds after the questions, taking several seconds to process everything that had been said. "U-Um… pretty… pretty important…" He mumbled. "My aunt would be really mad, a-and the ambulance would probably tell her…"

He coughed a few times and curled up tighter, breathing heavily. A trickle of blood dripped down from the corner of his mouth onto the pavement, and more of his blood was seeping into the street from various injuries as time went on. He probably wouldn't die from his injuries, but they could definitely leave some serious permanent damage if they weren't treated somehow, and it was hard to tell whether or not he had internal injuries.

(eeeeg poor smol boi)

Harv grimaced, and a beat of heavy silence passed between them.

"Alright, screw the ambulance. We're gonna have to do this the hard way." He carefully, carefully scooped the boy into his arms, which required little exertion on Harvey's part considering that the kid didn't weigh all that much.

Some part of Harv's brain told him that this was a really stupid idea, that he'd be wiser to just send the boy to the hospital and let him deal with the repercussions of an angry aunt (after all, the boy knew the risks involved in trying to be a hero; right?), but the other part argued that it was Harv's fault the boy was beaten to a pulp to begin with— and revealing the identity of the young hero might get him on the news, which would endanger him as well as any friends or family members he might have. Considering that Harvey already felt bad for destroying the kiddo, he didn't want to make his conscience heavier by adding to the boy's troubles.

So he'd fix it.

Take the boy back to his place. Mend him up. Send him on his merry way and pretend it never happened.

Sounded simple enough. Kinda. Not really.

Harv grunted a little as he carefully repositioned the boy's bloodied body in his arms and crept deeper into the alley, his boots making quiet thuds against the dampened pavement. "I'm gonna get you patched up and then both of us are gonna pretend this never happened. You get to live and keep your identity a secret; I get to not accidentally murder a kid. Sound like a plan?"

(Poor bby)
"Mmm…" Keitan closed his eyes and rested his head against Harvey's chest as the man carried him along. He was exhausted now that his adrenaline had worn off, and he was starting to feel the pain more. His breathing was heavy and erratic, and his heart was racing. He seemed to be pretty out of it by now, close to passing out in Harvey's arms.

He didn't want to think about what might happen to him if his aunt found out he was doing this. She wouldn't like him endangering himself by doing the same thing that had resulted in her sister's and brother in law's deaths, and in Keitan's half blindness. She already disapproved of everything else he did for various reasons, and this would be even worse. Hell, she might even kick him out for it, and he didn't want to think about that either. However, with it being a very real possibility, he reluctantly opened his eyes so he could see where he was being taken. Just in case…

Harvey took great caution to make sure that he wasn't being followed, but otherwise wasted no time in finding his way back to his— uh, headquarters. He preferred not to call it a lair— too cliche, and gave off way too many villain vibes. Besides, he wasn't sure if headquarters was even the right term, either, given that it was essentially just his house plus the random equipment he used. Perhaps base of operations was more accurate.

The entire way, he constantly shifted between internally scolding himself for not having realized his enemy was a child and wondering why this little hero was goofy enough to try to face off against him in the first place. Not to mention, the loud voice in the back of Harv's head screaming, "You idiot, why on earth are you taking him back to your place?!" But, the other voice in his brain objecting "You idiot, you almost killed a kid! You're responsible for this," was equally convincing.

The entrance to Harv's lai— I mean, base of operations— was nothing special; a thick metal door leading down into a large concrete building that was mostly underground. What it had once been used for was unclear, but it looked relatively boring these days, forgotten and hidden away between a shabby apartment building and a cruddy casino. There wasn't even a knob or lock on the door— only a hidden scanner off to the left, but it was essentially invisible.

Harv knew exactly where it was, though, and repositioned the injured kid in his arms to place his hand over the scanner; it lit up bright green for a split second, followed by a quiet click of the unlocking door. Harv shoved it forward; metal grated against concrete and the door groaned on its hinges as he pushed it forward and stepped inside, into pitch-black darkness interrupted only by the faint lighting that poured in from the dark alley outside.

"You still alive?" he inquired, voice bouncing off the walls as he descended the stairs into the blackness.

Keitan glanced around blearily as he was carried, trying to figure out where this place was. He was fairly certain he would be able to get here from the street he'd fought Harvey on, at least, and he could figure out how to get to the street from his house. He winced when Harvey jostled him, yanked out of his thoughts with a sharp gasp of pain.

He had no 'base' or anything of the sort. He was only thirteen, after all, and he still just lived with his stickler of an aunt. He also didn't exactly have any real 'equipment' to assist him in heroing; only his own powers and lacking physical strength.

At the question, he rolled his eyes a bit. He could easily just look down and see I haven't just suddenly died. "Yeah, not dead yet, sir." He replied, his voice still tight with pain. He grimaced and trembled a bit, tightly hugging his stomach with his good arm.

"Great." Harv turned sharply to the left, into a room that was somehow even darker than the staircase. He slapped at the wall until his hand caught the light switch and squinted as the harsh white light flooded the room, temporarily blinding him. He didn't wait for the colors dancing across his vision to go away as he crossed the room to a large table with various papers and gadgets strewn across it. He cursed at the mess and swept his arm across the table, scattering the papers and sending several of the little doohickeys clattering against the floor.

"This'll have to do," Harvey muttered to himself as he carefully placed the boy down on the table. "Okay, okay, let's see—" Patching up his own injuries here and there was one thing, but even then he wasn't good at it. Trying to fix up a very pummeled kid was another thing entirely. And the poor boy was in bad shape. Where did he even start? "Do you think you've got any broken bones? What hurts most?"

The room was large, with a high ceiling, concrete floors, concrete walls. The air was cool, but not cold. The ceiling was covered in wires, stringing in every direction; there were several monitors on the wall, some displaying the news, others turned off. A long work-bench of sorts was shoved into the other corner of the room, covered in various mechanical and computer parts similar to the ones Harv had just knocked into the floor, as well as stacks of files and papers. Some cardboard boxes littered the room, as well as a few miscellaneous weapons just laying around in the floor. Two hallways, including the that connected this room to the staircase, broke off from the room, disappearing into who-knows-where.

Keitan winced at the light as well, curling up a bit in Harvey's arms. He seemed very uneasy when he was set down on the table, shifting his legs a bit and glancing around at the pigsty around him. He only looked up again when the man addressed him.

"Uh… I'm not exactly a doctor, obviously, but… I'm pretty sure my shoulder is broken?" He offered, trying to move his shoulder to test and hissing through his teeth in pain. "Y-Yeah, feels broken. Maybe a couple ribs, not sure… and I'm…" He was quiet for a moment, considering how he felt, "…pretty dizzy, and I've got an awful headache, so maybe a concussion, dunno." He sighed softly.

He was fairly sure he had other injuries as well scattered around his body, but he'd have to get undressed in order for them to be treated, and he wasn't exactly comfortable with that. "I think I've got burns… pretty much everywhere. Skin, clothes… everything's really… twitchy." He held up his hand, examining his trembling, twitching fingers.