Winter bird

Chapter 1

The scent of iron was thick in the air as Sirah awoke, slowly coming back to life. A dull ache rang through his body, a hurt Deep in his core. As he began to blearily look around, something caught his attention.
Victor Zsasz was in his bedroom.
And suddenly Sirah realized he was tied up, and that this wasn't his bedroom. Why hadn't he realized this sooner?
As if sensing his panic, the sociopath strode over to the bedside and leaned down.
" Hello my dear, you're finally awake~" the scarred man cooed, flipping his butterfly knife around.
Breathe.
Breathe.
It felt like his head was going to explode. The captive glared at his captor, as if that'd stop him. He soon became aware of a radio in the background, playing brokenly. It kinda added to the atmosphere.
"I'm sure you have questions, Mm?" Zsasz runs the knife under Sirahs chin, leaning his head on his other hand. The younger man growls the best he can, making his kidnapper smile.Zsasz then pushes the knife a little too hard, knicking Sirahs cheek. He squirms in pain, beginning to flail.
The marked man before him begins to frown, standing up with a dramatic sigh.
"I went out of my way to get you yknow. You should be flattered."
Oh but he is.
He's VERY flattered.
But he won't admit it.
The white haired captive rolls his eyes, beginning to pick at the ropes binding him. Victor begins to hum along to the song, moving so he can straddle Sirah.
"Ever since we made our daring escape off that hell site, I couldn't help but start thinking…if you hadn't found that spare safety raft, we'd be stuck there. We would've gotten stuck in arkham city. But you-"
He leans forward, his face a few inches away from Sirahs.
"Saved me."
Zsasz was whispering now, his eyes lidded and watching Sirah who could only stare back.
Before Sirah knew it, the knife was now pressed against his neck. It was almost endearing, in a pyschotic sort of way.
In an attempt to throw Zsasz off he bucks, startling his captor temporarily.
The man slides off of him, tutting. "Behave yourself." He leans over and rips the tape off his mouth, grinning.
Sirah winces, biting back all of his angry retorts.
"Relax 'biny, I'm not gonna kill you."
'Biny?? Oh, Albino.' The once captive man rolls his eyes and sits up, the ropes falling off his wrists.
Zsasz blinks in confusion, shrugging.
The white haired man rubs his wrist grumpily, letting out a huff. Now that he was standing, he realized that Victor was quite a bit bigger than he was.
'wouldnt have been a fair fight.' he thinks to himself.  Sirah rises up and walks over to the window, squinting and looking out. It was foggy, probably early in the morning. From what he could tell, they were still in Gotham at least. As much as he hated this city, he had to admit he was somewhat glad to see it. As he got lost in thought, scarred hands made their ways around his waist. It wasn't until Zsasz leaned his head on his shoulder that he began to panic. Before he could get him off, The taller man squeezed him. Sirah took a deep breath, letting the man cling to him.
This was weird.
Right?
Right.
He had so many questions that he wanted to ask him, so many things he wanted to say but Everytime he got close the words just wouldn't come out. Sirah grunted in frustration, making Zsasz step back. "Do you drink coffee, dear? Or I could get you some tea, honey." The sociopath smiled and played with his knife,  eyeing Sirah.
"…coffee, please."
The coffee was bitter, but tasted good enough for him. Zsasz hasn't took his eyes off Sirah, staring him down like a cat watching a mouse. It made him feel small, unsturdy captive-

"Did you sleep well?"
"Huh?"
Sirah blinks dopily, once again lost in thought.
"I asked if you slept well." The sociopath sits across from him, not taking his eyes off of him. He talked way too casually for this to be comfortable.
The captive nods, taking his time to examine his surroundings. It was a nice place, probably an apartment in a highrise. It couldn't be under Zsaszs name for obvious reasons, so Sirah couldn't help but wonder who it really belonged to. It was monochromatic and shiny, the bright whites making him want to puke. The one thing that stood out was a bouquet of purple roses on the kitchen counter. Did Zsasz kill the people that lived here? Does it belong to one of his relatives?
Did he kill the owner?
"It's nice, isn't it?"
Sirah choked on his coffee, looking up at Zsasz. "Like little roaches they come running to these buildings..all victims of the government." Victor shakes his head, sighing. Sirah nods wisely, having no idea what that man was talking about.
As his mind began to drift off, he noticed Zsasz was wearing well…regular clothes. A simple hoodie and some jeans, rather than his Arkham uniform. Was he undercover? Is he hiding? Was he on the run?
"You think too much."
Just as his attention turns to Zsasz, he feels a sharp pain in his shoulder.
He had stabbed him.
Sirahs face scrunches up in confusion before his eyes roll back, his face smacking into the table.
"I think I just killed him.."