Because when people started doing that, the truce broke and things became ten times easier for the Endbringer.
Ek-fucking-zactly.
The manacle on my wrist made me wonder. I’d made some enemies with the good guys. Maybe I was getting some rough treatment because of it.
One ominous idea nagged at me, and I couldn’t get it out of my head. It was that I might not get any treatment at all – for my back, specifically – because of grudges against me and capes who could ‘suggest’ that maybe the doctors’ resources could be better directed elsewhere.
Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that since the end of the last chapter… it’s not a pleasant idea.
If they went that route, one hundred percent deniable, excusable, then there’d be nothing I could do about it.
Pretty much the only thing you could do then would be to drag yourself out the door by one arm, get out of your costume, and drag yourself back in as Taylor “totally not the villain with the exact same injuries and other physical characteristics who just dragged herself out the door in the same manner” Hebert.
…this kind of gag works a lot better when you actually know the person by a two-part name.
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