Chapter Text
When Bdubs awoke, everything ached. He groaned miserably, rolling over to slap a hand over his blaring alarm clock. Content with the blissful silence, he buried his head into his pillow with a muffled sigh. He let himself rest for a few extra seconds before he heaved himself out of bed with an obnoxious groan. Bdubs fumbled for the TV remote that was buried beneath his mountain of blankets. The TV was still blaring static, and the noise was beginning to get on his nerves after so little sleep.
He clicked off the TV, dipping the rest of the room into darkness. No light of day came through Bdubs’ black-out curtains, a purchase that came in handy ever since he had started keeping such irregular hours. Outside, the sun was most likely shining wanly as it rose in the wintery morning, casting the city in shades of pale gray and stark shadow. Bdubs, after seeing it about 30 minutes prior, had no wish to throw open the curtains.
Instead Bdubs swept a hand over his face and through his hair before massaging his shoulders roughly in an attempt to soothe his aches. Those with superpowers were often also blessed with super healing, and Bdubs was no exception. But even the most specialized hero couldn’t heal themselves 100% after half an hour of sleep. His muscles protested with his every movement. Age and heroism didn’t mix exceptionally well.
On his nightstand, plugged in and half hanging off the edge, Bdubs’ phone lit up. The too-bright screen cast a too-bright light that filled the room, making it impossible to ignore. Bdubs fumbled for it, squinting against the harsh light.
Approximately 20 separate messages from Impulse were displayed on his phone screen, mimicking the events of just hours before. Bdubs scrubbed at his eyes once more in an attempt to clear the blurriness so he could properly read the texts.
Something incoherent about Anti-Heroes was hard for Bdubs to make out in his exhausted state, but the name ‘Slipstream’ jumped periodically out at him. Bdubs forced his eyes open wider, willing his brain to suddenly start working. What about Slipstream?
After about a minute of manually flipping all of the switches in his brain to ‘on’, Bdubs finally gathered enough information to shoot out of bed and throw mismatched clothes on haphazardly. A hurried glance at the watch he strapped on said the time was 6:35. He had just enough time to rush to the sighting of Slipstream and still get to work in time. Right? Well, if worse came to worst, Impulse could always cover for him. Bdubs felt a little bad for constantly asking his friend to lie for him, but Impulse was his main informer for Slipstream sightings. If Bdubs ignored his messages and went to work, it would honestly be doing the man a greater disservice!
It wasn’t until Bdubs had locked his door and rushed out of the building did he notice that he was more than a little underdressed for the weather. In his sleepy panic, he had thrown on some old gym shorts, a t-shirt he had won at a plant showcase that read ‘Certified Green Thumb :)’, and Sundial’s signature jacket. Bdubs could only hope that either no one would recognize it, or they would just consider him a big enough fan of the hero to buy a replica of his coat. It wasn’t an outfit that did anything at all to protect him from the winter weather.
The cold hit him like a punch to the face. Actually, Bdubs had just been punched in the face that past night, and it hurt far less than the icy wind did. It whipped against him, tugging his hair in every direction as it seemed determined to scour the skin off his face. Bdubs squeezed his eyes shut and curled his arms around himself, but did not slow.
The location that Impulse had told him about was much closer than the previous one, thankfully. After sprinting down a few blocks while hugging himself tightly, Bdubs arrived at a line of shops. This time he wouldn’t miss Slipstream.
The sharp sound of shattering glass made Bdubs instinctively crouch and shield his head. When no glittering shards rained over him, he tentatively raised his eyes. The windows of almost every shop on the street were blown out. Tiny bits of glass littered the sidewalk, glinting in the bleak sunlight. The sign of a nearby corner store was torn off and lying in the street, nearly torn in half. There was only one hero that could cause so much damage so quickly. Or rather, Anti-Hero.
Slipstream was perched on a rooftop, shooting razor-sharp blasts of wind at a ski-masked individual holding a gun. Every bullet he fired was flung aside by winds with enough force to shatter windows. As was evident by the gaping, empty holes in the nearby buildings.
Bdubs crept closer, getting as near as he dared. He had Sundial’s protective jacket, but even that would be shredded like a piece of paper by Slipstream’s power. The criminal seemed to be getting more and more flustered as Slipstream easily evaded his attacks. The sound of gunshots increased in frequency as the man let out a violent yell before throwing the gun to the ground and rushing towards Slipstream. He was clearly intent on scaling the building and attacking the Anti-Hero. It was, to put it bluntly, an ill advised move.
After studying Slipstream’s fighting style for months, Bdubs knew exactly what he would do next. Slipstream waited until the man had hauled himself onto the roof he was standing on, struggling all the way. As soon as both of his feet were firmly planted, Slipstream sent a powerful gust of wind that sent the criminal flying off the roof and plummeting to the ground. The thud as his body hit the cement made even Bdubs wince. No way he was getting up after that.
However, Slipstream wasn’t done. Bdubs watched in growing apprehension as the hero floated down from the roof, cushioning himself with air. His white hair moved gently around him, caught in his own gusts. His fox’s tail moved back and forth gently, almost elegantly, behind him. It was almost impossible to discern Slipstream’s expression with the mask that fully covered his face, but Bdubs got the idea that he was amused. Maybe the slight glint in his mismatched eyes gave it away.
Regardless, Slipstream’s fun spelled the criminal’s doom. He crouched over the prone man and rested a gentle hand on his throat. Slowly, just enough so that the progressive purpling of the skin was obvious, Slipstream stripped the oxygen from the man’s lungs. Men and women screamed at him to stop as the barely-awake criminal was dragged into unconsciousness.
Bdubs swallowed thickly as he watched the act. At some point he had pulled his phone out to shakily record. He had captured the moment as clearly as possible on the old device. He clicked his phone off, he didn’t want to rewatch it. Anger and disgust rose in his throat as Slipstream left the man lying there. The Anti-Hero stalked off, fox tail swishing behind him. As soon as he got far enough way, a few civilians rushed to the criminal on the ground. Someone was most likely dialing emergency services, both to arrest the man and provide medical care.
Bdubs, however, followed Slipstream. The Anti-Hero cut a path down the street, dispatching a variety of other masked individuals. Not just a single criminal then. Most likely a gang that was pulling some stupid stunt when Slipstream and Maniac showed up.
Speaking of Maniac, the dark-haired Anti-Hero had ducked out from inside some building and joined his partner at some point. The slightly more psychotic half of the hero duo was mostly unmasked. The only thing protecting his identity was a thin strip of fabric over his eyes, a stark contrast to Slipstream’s full metal face mask. Somehow, his civilian identity hadn’t been revealed yet. Normally, hero partners matched their outfits a bit more, but Slipstream and Maniac had extremely different costumes.
The two walked comfortably down the street for a bit, fighting off whoever charged their way. They moved scarily in sync. One ducked back while the other charged forward, each covering the other’s weak spots. It rankled Bdubs, but they were an incredible hero team. Though their methods, as had just been demonstrated, could use a little work.
Bdubs’ brow furrowed as he hurried on, mood worsening as he watched the duo’s flippant attitude towards the people they attacked. Well, technically people they defended themselves against. But with such a large power difference, Bdubs didn’t really think of it that way. Pushing himself to close the distance, Bdubs was soon only a few feet from the backs of the heroes, clutching his still-recording phone.
“Slipstream! Maniac!” He called out. Unfortunately for Bdubs, he had failed to consider what sneaking up behind two dangerous heroes would result in.
Before he knew what was happening, Bdubs was flat on his back with an arm on his throat and a heavy weight on top of him. Slipstream’s masked face was inches away from his. Bdubs gasped for air, trying to push the hero off of him. He was so close to him that Bdubs could make out the distinct red hues of Slipstream’s left eye. That eye narrowed as the fox-hybrid immediately clocked the shudder that briefly wracked Bdubs’ body.
Normally, Bdubs would have no qualms about shoving Slipstream off him and throwing him around a bit in turn. But normal people weren’t supposed to be able to throw off a hero, especially not one like Slipstream.
Instead, Bdubs let his body go limp. “I’m—a reporter,” he gasped out. Slipstream’s arm seemed to be attached to his throat with how hard it was pressing down on him. “I wanted to—to interview you. For a—“ a wheezing breath as Bdubs feigned struggling against Slipstream’s weight. “A story I’m working on.”
Thankfully, that seemed to assuage Slipstream enough that he sat back, freeing Bdubs’ airways. Still, he crouched over his body.
“We don’t speak to the press,” Maniac’s smug voice informed him. His face came into Bdubs’ eyeline, outlined against the sky. He stood just behind Bdubs’ head, successfully blocking him in. Maniac’s notable shock of green hair fell into his eyes, but the self-satisfied expression on his face was impossible to miss.
“I’m not the press,” Bdubs scoffed. It was hard to act dignified while spread-eagled on the ground with two heroes standing over him, but he did his best. “I’m the…”
“You said you were a reporter,” Slipstream’s muffled voice echoed behind his mask. The metal displayed no holes for the sound to come through, but Bdubs could hear him clearly enough.
“Yeah, okay, but not like a paparazzi,” Bdubs was indignant. “I’m an investigative reporter,” he finished lamely.
“Same thing. We don’t want to talk to you,” Maniac spoke up.
“Just a single statement—“
“No.” Slipstream’s voice brooked no room for argument. Bdubs didn’t care. Slipstream stood up, finally giving Bdubs space. Bdubs scowled, but scrambled to his feet as well to brush himself off. The grit of the road had dug into his mostly-bare legs, and the contact with the cold concrete had left him freezing. He shivered, glaring at the two “heroes.”
“Do you really think your methods are the best way to facilitate peace in Life City—“
Bdubs had barely gotten the sentence out before Maniac shoved into him from behind. Slipstream, who was in line to catch his fall, side-stepped Bdubs’ tumbling body. He hit the ground once again.
Huffing angrily, Bdubs did his very best to get to his feet and do nothing more. Even though every cell in his body was itching to throttle Maniac.
The hero in question was now walking away, side by side with Slipstream after throwing one more divisive comment over his shoulder.
For a moment, Bdubs debated running after the pair again. He decided against it. Instead, he squared his shoulders, brushed himself off, and walked back the way he came with as much dignity as he could muster. He forced himself to take a deep breath. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Quell the anger that threatened to rise at the Anti-Heroes’ disrespect.
It was clear they wouldn’t give him the time of day as Bdubs: Investigative Reporter. But he would make them listen eventually. One way or another. And if Sundial had to make an appearance and bash a few heads, so be it.
Bdubs headed back home, shivering all the way. He would most definitely be late to work, but there was no way he was suffering this cold longer than he had to. A change of clothes was absolutely necessary.
Thankfully, the streets were pretty quiet as Bdubs trudged back to his apartment. No heroes were fighting off robbers or the rare supervillain, and the city was filled with the peaceful sounds of waking life. Shop-owners flipped the signs on their windows, market stalls unfurled their banners and laid out their wares. It was familiar, but it reminded Bdubs exactly why he loved Life City. It reminded him exactly why he was a hero. It was exactly what heroes like Slipstream needed to be reminded of.
When Bdubs arrived back at his apartment building he rushed inside to swiftly change clothes and rushed back out again. He was much warmer with full-length pants. Tugging at the suit jacket he had replaced Sundial’s with and adjusting the bag carrying his materials, he made his way as quickly as possible back the way he came, towards the Morning Life News office building.
Morning Life News was one of the bigger publications in Life City, and it was the one that Bdubs belonged to. He had worked there about 5 years now, far longer than his career as a hero. Heroes had only made a real appearance about a year ago, after all. So juggling his journalistic duties and his heroic ones was still a pretty new act for him.
The building looked pretty new when it came into view. It was constantly being remodeled, giving it a more modern look than the rest of the buildings around it. Walls of windows stretched into the sky, allowing as much sunlight to filter into the rooms as possible. At the moment, scaffolding was scattered all over the left side of the office. A construction crew milled about, talking idly before they were put to work.
Bdubs pushed through the revolving doors into the lobby. His painfully professional shoes clicked against the tile floors as he approached the receptionist, flashing his haphazardly clipped-on badge in her face before beelining for the elevator. The doors opened smoothly as he jammed the button, clearly not sensing his urgency. Bdubs pressed the ‘up’ button just as quickly, to no avail. The elevator doors creaked shut before it started lurching slowly upward.
All these renovations and they couldn’t bother with a new freaking elevator, Bdubs thought with irritation.
But soon enough, the doors slid open to reveal the 10th floor. The sun was shining in almost a direct path through the floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating the rows of cubicles. People were bent over their respective desks and working peacefully. The atmosphere was almost… relaxing.
At least until someone grabbed him by the arm and yanked him in the direction of the restrooms. Bdubs yelped as he was nearly yanked off his feet. It took everything he had not to immediately attack his assaulter. Thankfully, he held off. Even more thankfully when his ‘assaulter’ in question turned out to be Impulse.
His friend had him by the scruff of his neck and was pulling him roughly down the hallway away from the elevators. Impulse had an exasperated look on his lightly-stubbled face, though his mouth was set with determination. Bdubs cast a mournful look back the way he came as he stumbled along behind Impulse. What he would give to just sit at his desk and zone off for a few minutes…
But Impulse had no sympathy for Bdubs’ very few hours of sleep. He dragged Bdubs into the men’s bathroom and parked them in the corner furthest from the urinals. Bdubs wrinkled his nose at the choice of meeting spot, but decided to make no comment at the look on Impulse’s face.
His friend looked… tired. And Bdubs knew for a fact that he hadn’t spent all night chasing bad guys. Instead, he had spent all night keeping an eye out for updates on Slipstream to send to… Bdubs. Guilt sank in his stomach. Impulse was busting his ass to help this story work out for Bdubs, and in return, Bdubs couldn’t even show up on time. He averted his gaze from Impulse’s heavy brown eyes.
“Bdubs, what the hell, man?” Impulse said finally, evidently deeming the silence heavy enough.
“You gave me the notice about Slipstream, I was just… chasing him down,” Bdubs said lamely. It was hard to seem confident in anything while Impulse was looking at him like that.
Impulse sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess that’s true. I had just. hoped. that you would maybe be on time today. We had that big meeting about going over our funding, and I can’t keep covering for you, ‘Dubs! One of these days they’ll expect you to be there. Mumbo was upset enough about your ‘continued absence’ as he put it.”
Bdubs scowled at the mention of their boss, Mumbo. Most of the time, he was a reasonable man, if a bit anxious. But occasionally, he would lash out. Leading to events like this one.
“Impulse, I swear I tried,” Bdubs pleaded. “I got there and the fight was still going on, so once it ended I chased after him, but Maniac was there so when I got too close they knocked me down, and I tried to ask for a statement but they kept saying no, and I got up, then they knocked me down again—“ Bdubs was well aware that he hadn’t paused to take a breath for a minute now. “And then I was late,” he finished, gasping. He decided to leave out the bit about returning to his place once more, just to change clothes.
“Bdubs,” Inpulse cut him off when he finally paused to breathe. “It’s fine. You missed the meeting with some new rich guys that want to sponsor a few stories or something, that’s it. I can… I dunno catch you up or something. Mumbo will have to take it one more time.”
Bdubs’ shoulders slumped in relief, even as he watched Impulse’s get tighter. “Yes. Ok. I can do that! Mumbo will be beyond impressed with me,” he plastered on what he hoped was a comforting smile and slapped Impulse on the back. “So let’s stop hiding in this bathroom and you can fill me in on our way back?”
Impulse nodded, already fighting a smile. The guy could be stern when he wanted to, but it was rare to see him stay mad about anything. Especially at Bdubs. Where his friend found his endless well of patience, Bdubs had no idea. But he was eternally grateful for it.
“Okay, so who are these new ‘sponsors’ or whatever?” Bdubs asked as he pushed through the bathroom door after Impulse.
“Just some random big company,” Impulse shrugged, “they didn’t seem very different from all the last. A bit more… brusque, you could say, but pretty normal altogether.”
“What did you say the company name was?”
“Uhhh….” Impulse thought for a moment. For all his scolding, he clearly hadn’t paid much attention to the meeting himself. Which, if you think about it, was almost as bad as not going at all. “It was like Rancher Corp, or something. According to what Mumbo said before the meeting, they used to be big into selling farm equipment and stuff before they shifted to the big city. Now I think they sell a bunch of the security systems around Life City.”
“Huh.” Bdubs thought for a moment. “Sounds boring enough. Glad I wasn’t there.”
Impulse glared at him, but snorted in amusement nonetheless.
Honestly, the company sounded completely unfamiliar to Bdubs. I wonder what story they wanted to sponsor, anyway?He wondered distantly.
The thought was pushed from his mind as he and Impulse pushed through the doors into the main office. Unfortunately, Bdubs was not able to sneak quietly to his desk, as he had hoped. Almost immediately, a towering, mustachioed man was looming over him.
Well, looming, might be a bit generous. That would require a certain kind of malicious presence that Mumbo distinctly didn’t have. He was tall, sure, but possessed far too much nervous energy to be truly intimidating. Bdubs smiled nervously up at Mumbo as he postured, doing his best to appear stern.
You see, for all his frustrated outbursts, Mumbo really wasn’t as mean as some people often painted him. (People that had often had very little interactions with the man in the first place.) It made Bdubs feel a little bad, especially as he likedMumbo. He just didn’t like the constant meetings and expectations that weren’t exactly enforced anyway. Mumbo was a decent boss all things considered. He just needed to stop jump-roping with the line between ‘strict’ and ‘pushover’.
“I didn’t see you at the meeting today, Bdubs,” Mumbo said. Somehow, his voice managed to be a little awkward while still maintaining a painfully polite facade.
Bdubs cut his eyes towards Impulse, silently pleading for him to intervene. Impulse just shook his head slowly and backed away, clearly retreating towards his desk and leaving Bdubs to his fate.
Traitor, Bdubs mouthed after him.
“What was that?” Mumbo asked sharply. Somehow, his voice came out perfectly clear, despite the mustache that covered his entire mouth. Bdubs had always wondered about that.
“Nothing,” Bdubs covered hastily. “And… y’know. I was working on my story. It’s so close, I swear, Mumbo. I just need a little more time.”
“Your first submission is due tomorrow,” Mumbo reminded him. Bdubs winced at the reminder, but nodded.
“It’ll be done, I swear.” He was getting repetitive, but Mumbo would have to forgive him.
His boss was stroking his mustache slowly. Either he was thinking, or just doing something that would give the effect that he was thinking. The silence grew between them and sweat pooled between Bdubs’ shoulder blades. He really couldn’t afford being confined to the office or whatever other punishment Mumbo might dream up.
“Just do what you have to,” Mumbo said after the long silence. “I’ve been pretty lenient with letting you do whatever you want, and I’m sure you’d prefer it if that didn’t change. All I ask is that you attend the necessary meetings. Do you understand me?”
Bdubs nodded quickly, “Of course, sir. I won’t lose track of time again.”
Mumbo’s shoulders slumped slightly in relief as Bdubs agreed. “Okay, good. I expect your report bright and early tomorrow.”
Bdubs gave a mock salute as Mumbo walked to his office. The room was separate from the rest of the area, thankfully, so Bdubs would be able to avoid him for the rest of his time spent in the building.
Instead of returning to his desk to work on his still-blank report, Bdubs marched over to Impulse and plopped onto the edge of his desk, knocking over a precariously balanced cup full of pens. He raised a pointed eyebrow as Impulse glared at him, though both looks lacked any real feeling.
“So…” Bdubs dragged out, trying to put off his impending request for as long as possible.
Impulse huffed a small breath through his nose but didn’t respond. He had already opened his laptop and was typing steadily. The soft clicking of keys filled the room, both from Impulse and Bdubs’ other coworkers, who all were apparently more dedicated than him.
“I need to leave the office again,” Bdubs rushed out.
Impulse’s fingers stilled on his keyboard as he turned his gaze on Bdubs. He squirmed slightly under Impulse’s heavy eyes. But instead of the play-argument that Bdubs had felt on the horizon, Impulse just shrugged and turned back to his work.
“You’re an adult, Bdubs. If you don’t want to write your story, you don’t have to.”
“If Mumbo asks—“
“I’ll tell him you’re tracking down your story.”
“You’re a life-saver!”
“I know,” Impulse called at Bdubs’ retreating back.
Bdubs got into the elevator, though the lobby, and out of the building in rapid succession. He had a plan that might take a while, but if he was lucky,—which he often wasn’t—it wouldn’t take the whole day. He still had a draft to write, after all.
Whistling and raising a hand, Bdubs hailed a taxi and bundled himself into the backseat. Leaning forward, he directed the driver to take him to an area on the far side of the city. The outskirts of Life City held much fewer people than the more urbanized areas, as could be expected. Thus, many warehouses and other storage facilities had been constructed. Ugly and repetitive, they were kept out of sight from the rest of the glimmering city.
Well, glimmering shopping and tourist districts. The rest of the city had a bit more grit to it than the wealthy would like to believe. As long as the ugly bits couldn’t be seen from their penthouses, why would they care?
Regardless of the questionable morals of the elite and the neglected infrastructure of the poor, Bdubs had a greater reason for visiting the warehouses outside the city. A reason with impressive powers and a fox tail.
He had gotten a tip from an informant that Slipstream had been sighted hanging around a few different warehouses outside of town. Was he training? Did he stay in one of them? Was it like a secret base situation? A warehouse was a very stereotypical place to have a secret base, but Bdubs could overlook the unoriginality if Slipstream turned out to be staying there.
Sun glancing off of harsh metal edges nearly blinded Bdubs through the taxi window as they drove. More and more of the city was losing its brick and concrete and shifting to metal and glass. It made Bdubs a little sad to see all the warm colors turn cold and sharp. But change had been part of the city for a long time. There used to be a lot more green around too. Trees popping up alongside buildings and grass sprouting through sidewalks. Now even parks were a rare occurrence.
The window of the taxi had been open when Bdubs had initially slid in, but he closed it now. The persistent stink of organic waste was increasing as they approached the warehouse district. The city didn’t bother to enforce cleanliness here as strictly as they did in the wealthier districts, and the evidence of it hung in the air.
Bdubs had heard rumors that the city’s neglect was due to the population of mostly hybrids that lived in the area. Personally, he thought the theory had merit. And as a reporter, it was his job to take stock in rumors.
Hybrids had long been under-represented and under-appreciated in Life City. An odd phenomena, as they made up almost a quarter of the city’s population. There had been a lot of protests over the years concerning the demand for better rights for hybrids, though few of them had been successful. It led to them congregating in areas free of non-hybrids, like the one Bdubs was in now. Whether they settled there because of the poverty in the area, or the area had become impoverished due to their presence, Bdubs couldn’t say.
Admittedly, he hadn’t paid too much attention to them until they started demanding more attention as heroes began to surface a year ago. Plus, Bdubs couldn’t exactly look past them now that Slipstream—an arctic fox hybrid—was one of the most well-known heroes in the city.
The taxi ground to a stop, a block away from where Bdubs knew the warehouses lay. He knocked on the partition separating him and the driver, brow furrowed in confusion.
“Excuse me,” he said politely once it was removed. “Could you get me a bit closer?”
The driver shook his head, “No can-do. This is far as I go. Everyone knows creepy shit happens near those warehouses. And with all the rumors about that one hybrid hero…” his expression darkened. “Yeah, you’re on your own from here.”
Bdubs quelled the indignant feeling that rose in his stomach, seemingly for no reason. It wasn’t an unreasonable complaint. Sighing, he paid his fare and stepped out of the taxi.
Bdubs’ shoes crunched unpleasantly in the gravel as he walked the block left. Soon enough, Bdubs rounded the corner and the foreboding metal warehouses came into view. They stood in uniform rows, stretching on for blocks. Each one was constructed of dark gray metal with a metallic roof. Each had an identical door and garage for delivering and taking away goods. The only observable differences were the occasional tarps that covered holes in roofs or shattered windows.
Bdubs stood for a moment, utterly lost in which one he was supposed to be investigating. He fished his phone out his bag to check the number once more. 27-C. Perfect. If the map of the district that Bdubs had barely bothered to glance at had told him anything, it was that the C block was almost the furthest from his current location. It was the block that could be rented out for private use, so it made sense that Slipstream might’ve been spotted there.
Letting out an overdramatic groan, Bdubs started walking. Every step he took released dust from the gravel beneath his feet, and soon enough his shoes and pant-legs were covered in gray. He swore he could feel multiple tiny rocks rattling around, trapped between his heels and his shoes.
The sun was high in the sky at this point, and even its wan light was enough to start baking the trash that lay heaped in random corners. Bits of plastic or metal were most common, but the occasional reek of rotting food or human excrement would come floating by on an unfortunate gust of wind. Bdubs shivered as another breeze blew by, whistling through the metal of the warehouses. He pulled his coat tighter around himself. The sooner he got what he came for, the better. That way, he could leave and get started on his article.
What exactly he came for, Bdubs wasn’t sure. He wanted to know if Slipstream had a hide-out in one of these warehouses, obviously, but he didn’t know exactly how he would figure that out. Did he expect to catch Slipstream at the location? Or what, did he think there was gonna be some lit-up sign proclaiming the area as belonging to the Anti-Hero? The further Bdubs walked, the more he regretted coming in the first place.
Eventually, freezing his tail off, Bdubs reached Block C and the warehouse he was looking for. It looked exactly like all the others Bdubs had just spent half an hour passing. Sighing, he approached the front door. And promptly reconsidered.
Idiot, he berated himself. What if there’s surveillance or something? Wanna get yourself arrested for trespassing or something? Thankfully, there didn’t seem to be any cameras or alarms set up around the warehouse. But Bdubs didn’t want to risk it.
He crept around the side of the warehouse, looking for an alternative way in. There didn’t seem to be any other ground-floor entrances other than the garage, so Bdubs turned his attention upwards. There didn’t seem to be any way to reach the roof and the skylight that he hoped was there…
Aha, Bdubs thought triumphantly, making his way to the back of the warehouse and spotting a pipe affixed to the wall and attached to the gutter on the roof. He made his way over to it and tugged on it tentatively. Would it hold his weight?
Another lap around the building proved the pipe to be his only option. Resigning himself to the possibility of falling and the certainty of looking ridiculous, Bdubs did his best to shimmy up the pipe. It creaked ominously under his weight, clearly eager to detach itself and send Bdubs plummeting to an embarrassing, early death. Swearing under his breath, Bdubs pleaded with the thing to hold on just a bit longer.
Just as Bdubs was inches away from the roof, the pipe creaked loudly one final time. With a tearing sound, it pulled itself free from the wall and roof it was attached to.
But with a panicked shout and ungainly lunge, Bdubs just managed to snag the edge of the roof with his fingers. The rough metal dug into his skin, but Bdubs ignored the pain. Grunting with exertion, Bdubs heaved himself onto the roof. Unfortunately, that seemed intent on creaking and bending under his weight as well.
Painstakingly slowly, Bdubs crawled across the roof to the skylight he had seen upon getting up. He perched himself precariously just beneath it, hoping to escape the sight of anyone possibly inside.
He peered in, and… nothing. It was too bright outside and too dark inside. Bdubs couldn’t make out anything but vague shapes that looked much too similar to regular machinery.
“Goddammit,” he swore, pounding the roof with his fist in frustration. The resounding shudder of the metal underneath him told him to get off.
Soon enough, Bdubs’ feet were back on the ground and his spirits were lower than ever.
He returned to the office with nothing to show for his efforts, let alone a story that he could turn in to Mumbo tomorrow. Impulse gave him a pitying look and Bdubs spent the rest of the day working quietly.
Well, ‘working’ was putting it nicely. If all ‘working’ entailed was staring at a blank doc, Bdubs would be rich.
Tomorrow, he vowed. Tomorrow, I’ll get him.