What defines a villain?

Chapter 17

~Third Person POV~

Undead finished washing the dishes, including the pot in which he made the ramen, and set them out to dry. Once he was done, he rolled down his sleeves and fit his hands in his gloves once more. He had taken them off as to not ruin them with the dishsoap.

He sighed, walking back into the living room where the smell of ramen was still present. The criminal inhaled deeply, clearing away the headache that has plagued his mind this whole time.

He glanced at the two unconscious heroes on the sofa. Both of them were bleeding from their injuries, staining their clothes.

He picked up his mask which he had previously left next to Eraserhead, putting it on. Undead knew that the hero would faint due to blood loss soon enough, which is why he was unbothered by leaving the mask there.

It's not like he can see my face like that, the killer chuckled. He will wake up soon enough though.

Undead began searching the heroes' costume, pulling out any bandages and other medical supplies he could find. He was skilled in first aid, so he calmly rewrapped both arms after cleaning them.

Once he was done with the black haired hero, he moved onto the blonde one. He did the same with his leg injuries, making sure everything was secure.

He had found a few painkillers recently and shoved them down both heroes throats, forcing them down along with some water. Although Present Mic cooperated and didn't wake up, Eraserhead instantly choked, spitting out the pill along with the water.

"Seriously?" Undead deadpanned, wiping away droplets from his mask.

The heroes' eyes widened and he froze when he saw the serial killer leaning close to his face.

"Calm down, you can speak and stuff." The masked boy grumbled. "I already told you. You are the only one who can."

Eraserhead nodded shakily, still terrified out of his wits.

"Here." Undead brought out another pain killer. "I'm tired of hearing you grind your teeth in pain."

The man took the pill calmly this time, swallowing it with the rest of the water left in the glass that the boy brought along. Once he was done, he leant back onto the sofa. He groaned softly as his broken arms bumped against each other.

"Wait, the bandages-" He whispered in surprise.

"I fixed them." Undead sighed. "I was the one who injured you, after all. I have morals."

"Right." Eraserhead blinked. "Yeah, of course. Thank you."

The killer plopped down on the sofa next to the hero, leaning his head against the back of it.

"What a night." He whispered. "Thank god I didn't have to kill anyone..."

"You don't like killing?" The man asked in surprise.

"Well, I..." The kid chuckled. "It's complicated. I both do and I don't. At the same time, I also don't care. It's weird, isn't it."

"Sure is." Eraserhead nodded.

"But there is someone who... found out about one of my kills." Undead whispered, his voice far away. "It was only one kill they knew about, not even half of them. Just one, but even so..."

"They got mad, huh?" The hero filled the silence.

"Yeah." The serial killer nodded. "They hate me. I haven't killed ever since our argument either. Both because there wasn't an opportunity but also... I don't want them to hate me anymore. I know I'm way past the point of forgiveness of course."