Chapter Text
Parties.
Badd hated them.
Especially the fancy ones.
It was just a string of meaningless after meaningless conversation, followed by indirect---often brutal---comparisons of social status and wealth.
The hero couldn’t fathom why anyone would bother to willingly follow through with that type of hassle.
“Badd, Badd, hey are you listening? I asked if you wanted me to use mascara or not?”
The tan teen started, broken out of his thoughts and he glanced at his sister, who was nearly his height when sitting and currently glaring at him. She called his name without adding big brother, which must of meant he’d been zoned out for a long time. He smiled sheepishly, scratching the back of his head.
“M sorry sis, think ya could say that jus’ onnneeee more time? Pretty please?”
She huffed, black bang coming loose from the semi-strong breeze.
“Mascara? Yes or no?” Her tone was curt, harsh, and Badd flinched, hating when she used that voice.
“Uh, no. No mascara. My lashes are thick enough. N I don't have the brains to remember not ta rub my eyes.”
He’d never tell her, but she sounded just like their late mother when she did that.
It insanely scary what a mirror image she was, small hands balled into fists and planted on narrow hips, her black eyes sparking with the beginnings of anger.
The expression softened after the hero’s comment, and Zenko snorted, seemingly more relaxed now that she had an answer.
Badd hated parties.
The one the HA was forcing him to attend was no different.
He sighed, crumpling the golden invitation that he received two weeks ago.
Then laughed, a soft huff.
At least this time, they had the decency to give him time to prepare.
“Onii-chan, unless you want no eyebrows, stop moving!!!”
He sat stock still, all humor drained from his soul.
Like hell he was losing his eyebrows.
Zenko leaned forward slightly, pressing a light batch of concealer on his face. Not much, but enough to cover any minor scratches that happen to be scattered across the expanse of skin.
She handed him a small hand-held mirror, allowing him to check for any flaws and he let out a low whistle, impressed. His eyebrows had been plucked free from any unnecessary hairs and were slightly arched, adding definition to his eyes, which were ringed with kohl, thickening his eyelashes even further, but without the runny liquid of mascara. For once, his hair was down---also Zenko’s doing---pulled back into a loose bun that left some strands falling into his face on either side. He had to give it to her, Badd didn’t look anything but masculine, and yet his sis managed to bring out his inner soft side--without taking away his delinquent persona.
“You’re getting good at this Zen. I look like a new man.”
She puffed up, clearly pleased with his feedback and smiled widely at Badd.
He felt his heart melt.
All those nights of making him look like some sort of creepy clown and following tutorial videos obviously paid off.
The tan teen stood up, careful to smooth out any wrinkles that might’ve formed in his tuxedo, before walking to a full-body mirror.
And damn.
He was hot.
Like...spicy.
His tux pants and blazer were jet black, undershirt a deep maroon, slight homage to his hero outfit. The lapels of said blazer matched the shade of his button up, adding that much needed “touch of color”. His dress shoes were freshly shined, and pointed nicely at the top, just enough to make him look presentable and not like some elf or wicked witch of the west.
Zenko was spending the night with a friend from school, since he’d be away the whole time likely, and he made her pack up all her things from before, so they’d be ready to go.
He heard the doorbell ring and went to greet his temporary guests, calling his sister out, and wishing them well as they left. Much to her chargain, he chose not to wear a bow-tie, opting to instead open the top to buttons of his shirt.
He was going to this party, not because he wanted to, but because he had to.
Damn straight he was going to be comfortable the entire, insufferable time.
After making sure the apartment was in order, Badd walked into his room and grabbed a pair of rarely used car-keys. They belonged to a matte black Audi r8.
It was the last gift his father had ever given him, but his old man was dead before Badd ever actually got it. The sneaky bastard had saved up for years, then had a family friend hold on to it until he turned 16.
Needless to say, that day he cried like a baby.
He hadn’t used the car very often, not willing to chance it getting wrecked during a fight but he took good care of it, and even named her Bessy cause hell--why not?
Badd really did hate parties.
And he hated the idea of having to go all out for something he wasn’t remotely interested in, but shit….
If he was going to look sexy, he might as well be sexy all the way.
The meeting was just as stuck-up as he imagined it would be.
After damn near getting in a fist-fight with the valor and threatening to whack him with his bat, Badd parked the car in the first available spot and stepped out of the sleek vehicle, dusting himself off once more.
Paparazzi, swarmed around the center like flies and the incessant snapping of the camera made his eye twitch but he shot a few charming smiles their way, hoping it would placate them.
He made his way into the building, namesake slung across his shoulders and strode past that pop idol dipshit’s lackeys, waving off their offers to take his coat.
The first thing he noticed when he entered was that it was dark.
And swarming with heroes that he either didn’t know, didn’t like, or didn’t care about---which left him with only one option.
And his first bad idea.