Vaguely, Eli remembered reading a comic book when he was younger—one where the hero didn't make it in time.

He didn't remember all of the story. After all, it had been years and he hadn't actually read all of it thanks to his impatient older cousin who actually owned it. What he did remember was the hero's sidekick being tied up in a warehouse with a bomb.  One that went off before the hero of the story could get there.

Eli didn't think that was the best thing to think about when he was in a disturbingly similar situation—minus the bomb, thankfully—but his brain had a habit of picking the most inappropriate thoughts to focus on. As usual, he tried to make himself feel better through the magic of snark.

"Seriously, this is your hideout? Are all bad guys this cliched, or do you just suck at coming up with original ideas?" he said. The words were a bit slurred, but he blamed that on the fact that he'd had his head slammed against the sidewalk a couple of times. It was honestly a wonder he was even conscious.

Which was probably why he wasn’t thinking of consequences at the moment.

The coppery taste in his mouth that followed his words was something Eli should have expected, right along with the ache that came with being punched in the face. He supposed pissing off the bad guys wasn't a very good idea. Really though, anyone who knew him would have expected him to mouth off instead of plead for his life. Yes, Eli really was that stupid.

He wasn't even given a response, as the man who'd punched him walked off, back to the metal folding chair he'd been sitting on since Eli first saw him. He leaned back, and glared at Eli, probably pissed off that he'd had to actually move. After a moment, he picked up the newspaper he'd been reading earlier from atop the old metal desk at his side.

Eli watched him with a frown, ignoring the trickle of blood he could feel flowing from his nose. The guy watching him was a mean looking man—but then Eli's opinion might have been biased—with dark circles under equally dark eyes that stood out starkly in his pale face. His wide, sloping shoulders fit his bulky build, at least. Eli suspected it was mostly fat, and he would have said as much if the guy didn't punch so hard. There was a cigar caught between thin lips, the acrid smoke nearly choking Eli. He'd always hated smokers.

"What the hell are you staring at?" the man asked roughly after a moment. He glowered at Eli, cigar still sticking out of his mouth.

"Sorry, just never seen a smoking gorilla before."

Sometimes, Eli seriously hated himself, because even he could tell what he'd just said was monumentally stupid. It was still true.

Of course, true or not, Eli could admit to feeling just a smidge of regret as he watched the guy get up from his chair, cigar still caught between his lips and a positively thunderous look on his face. Idly, Eli wondered if he’d get tossed out a window, chair and all. 

"Jesus, you're stupid," someone said, and for a moment Eli wondered if his mind had finally decided to abandon him and he was actually hearing voices. More specifically, voices telling him precisely how stupid he was. Then, he remembered that the part of his mind that always called him stupid usually sounded like Michael so he could rule that out.

He'd hardly heard the door open, probably because pain was a good enough distraction. As nervous as he was about who might be speaking, he was still glad when Mr. Cancerstick—he would have thought up a better name had his brain not been scrambled—turned his attention to whoever had just walked into the small and sparse office Eli was being kept in.

The large man that had been keeping an eye on Eli moved aside enough for Eli to get a good look at who had just entered. For the first time in a while Eli wasn't exactly sure on what to say.

"Hey Eli," said the young man with a lazy grin.

"Al?" Eli said after a while, the shock evident in his tone.

Al—short for Albert, which was an entirely too formal name for the laid back guy—was a lanky, dark haired student just a year older than Eli. Or at least, he had been. Last Eli had heard, his roommate had thrown a whole party to celebrate Al getting kicked out of school. Which, to be honest, Eli kind of got now.

Still, that didn’t really explain why Al was standing in front of Eli, staring down at him with his thin, hazel eyes that kind of reminded Eli of a fox. Which might have been spot on, considering he seemed like a scheming little bastard at the moment. Not that anyone would have guessed as much. Al generally came off as a laid back guy. Too friendly to be a bad guy, he was seen as being generally harmless by most people.

Clearly, those people had been horribly misled.

Eli was proud to say he could not be counted amongst those people. He'd never been particularly close to Al. Really, he only knew him because Al's roommate shared a class or two with Eli. Well, that and the whole thing with Eli helping Matthew out not long after the whole 'unmasking' debacle.

Oh, Eli thought, realizing—despite how slow his brain was thanks to all the hits it had endured that night—why Al was there. For what seemed like the hundredth time that night—at least the part where he'd been conscious—Eli wondered why he was so stupid. Something like realization must have shown on his face.

"You remember me?" Al said, still wearing a grin. Behind him, Mr. Cancerstick glared at Eli before leaving, his hulking shape disappearing behind the door. Eli would have been more relieved about that if he weren't still so surprised.

"Al?" Eli said once again in a more shocked tone, ignoring the stinging pain from his split lip. Idly, he hoped he’d not lost any teeth because that’d be a bitch to get fixed. If he survived, of course. 

"Long time no see, right?" said the other man in a deceptively friendly tone. He leaned against the wall casually, like they were just having a normal chat. "Not since last time, when you ratted me out. Remember that?"

Oh, yeah, definitely remember that, Eli thought, trying not to look too nervous. He was glad he’d had so much practice at lying in his earlier years. He was not so glad that he was still kind of shit at it and his mother had never bought any of his lies.

"Doesn't ring a bell," he said after a moment, managing to sound surprisingly honest. Maybe being in a life and death situation was all Eli needed to motivate him to tell a convincing lie.

 If Eli hadn't been tied up to a chair, he would have jumped at the sudden laugh that left Al's lips. He stood straight, pushing away from the wall he'd been leaning on, and walked towards Eli. His eyes glittered even in the dim lighting and Eli didn’t like the grin he wore on his face.

"You know, I like you Eli," said Al. He stopped before the redhead and leaned closer to him, looking at the redhead with a smirk. Eli tried to draw back as much as he could. Which wasn’t a lot, considering he was tied to a chair. "I still want to shoot you in the kneecaps, but I like you."

Understandably, Eli didn't quite appreciate the comment.

"I'm touched," Eli muttered sarcastically because he wasn't very good at learning lessons.

"You're so lucky I can't actually shoot you," Al said with a frown. "Seriously, that weird masked guy has been a real pain in the ass. Now, I don't really care about anyone else getting their ass kicked by him. You know, you do you and all that. But then the guy had to get me kicked out of school and I gotta say, that’s a pretty shitty way of fighting crime.” Al said it like Eli should sympathize with him. Which Eli might have feigned if he’d been smart.

He was not.

“That’s heartbreaking. Really.” Eli wished he could punch himself. 

Luckily, Al did him the favor. Very considerate of him, really. Eli couldn’t say he wasn’t glad it was Al doing the hitting now though. At least he didn’t hit as hard. Still hurt though.

“It really is. Would have broken my mother’s heart if she were around.”

“What, she cut her losses and walked out?” Eli could have cried. Really, he felt like his very soul was weeping at how incredibly stupid he was.

“I’m starting to wonder if you want to get shot,” Al said, sounding just slightly awed.

“I’m starting to wonder that too,” Eli said honestly, glad that Al was impressed enough at how stupid he was to not punch him again.

“Listen, I don’t really want to be here. I’m not a bad guy you know? But I had to spend some time locked up, so I have to say, I'm pretty pissed off at you right now."

“You don’t say,” Eli muttered. Maybe Al felt some pity for him, because he didn’t even say anything about that.

Still, Eli wasn't really surprised to hear Al was mad at him, granted he hadn't known about what happened to the guy. He'd been so busy dealing with Matthew, work, and school that he had forgotten all about the time he'd helped the masked vigilante. He'd forgotten all about Al, and now Eli saw what a mistake that had been.

"How's that my fault?" Eli asked, knowing full well it was partially his fault. After all, he'd been the one to rat him out.

Al rolled his eyes. "Nice try, but I know you had something to do with that," he said. "You're hard to forget Eli, and it was kind of surprising to see you walk into the dorm asking for me. When that masked guy showed up not soon after, it felt like a bit too much to be a coincidence."

Eli supposed he should have thought about that, but at the time he'd been more worried about what Vigilante would do to him if he didn't help.

If only I’d known he wouldn’t murder me if I said no, Eli thought. As if he would have actually said no.

"How did you get out?" he asked, genuinely curious. And also searching for a topic that wouldn’t get him punched again.

"The boss had a job for me. Especially after I told him about a certain suspicious redhead. He bailed me out and all I had to do was keep an eye on you," Al said with a pleased look on his face.

"Well good for you. I bet whoever you work for was fascinated with my work schedule," Eli said. He really couldn't help the dry tone he spoke in—really, he just couldn't. Later on, if he survived the whole ordeal, he would have to re-think his response to danger because sarcasm was probably a bad choice.

"Oh, he was a lot more interested when I told him about your weird friend. You know, masked guy, beats up people, kinda famous with reporters," Al said with a smirk.

"He's not my friend, I don't even know the guy," Eli said, thinking of something to tell Al. "You really think I sold you out 'cause I wanted to? What’s more likely, that I’m working with some bootleg Batman just for shits and giggles or that he made me?" he asked, as if the answer were obvious. Mentally, he patted himself on the back at the plausible excuse.

"Maybe, you seem friendly enough," Al said with a shrug. "But mostly, I don't care. I still got screwed in the end. Whatever excuse you have can wait 'til the boss gets here."

"Boss?" Eli asked, fully aware of the panic in his voice. He didn't think whoever that was would be all that nice. "What boss?"

"Carmine Fisk," Al said simply enough. 

Yep, definitely not good.