Aiden didn't think his luck could get worse.

He'd been ambushed while patrolling. Bad. His powered gloves malfunctioned. Worse. Therefore, he got himself pummeled into next week. Worsest, if you asked him. Not only had they beaten him half to death, but they had left him alone and without means to communicate with his superiors. Essentially, they'd left him for dead.

If he was being honest, he didn't think his superiors would care much if he lived or not. He was just another disposable hero, barely older than a child. They'd made him lie about his age in front of the press. He wasn't twenty-one. He was barely nineteen. He regretted lying now, curled up on the floor, crying because of how bad it hurt. Because it hurt bad. So, so bad.

He tried to get up, but let out a choked sob when he put weight on his broken hands. They'd broken every bone in them. They were useless. Just like him.

He was about to just close his eyes and accept his fate when he saw you through the cracked lenses of his goggles.

He let out a sob and curled up further. "Not you too.." He mumbled through bloody lips.

You were a villain. A true villain. He'd fought you before. He was always in bed for days after.

But as you looked down at him, you couldn't help but feel a rush of rage coursing through your veins. Someone had hurt him. Your boy. Your toy.

You'd made sure, when he first started fighting, that everyone knew he was only yours to injure. You'd made yourself clear.

And someone had broken your rules.

Someone had dared hurt your toy.

And you'd make them pay.