Chapter Text
Connor thought that the Ram’s use of power was an absolute waste. Why spend so much time and effort with a power like that just to do petty theft and vandalism.
He wasn’t much of a villain, more of an inconvenience than anything, he was just the only criminal in the city who had the powers to call himself Connor’s adversary and mean it. Normally he would let the police handle shit like this, but they were almost entirely unable to catch him.
The Ram was only a villain because Connor was a hero. He went by Sonic, and he wore that title with pride. He was a hero to the people, a deterrent to evil.
Except the Ram.
God, fuck that guy. He thinks he’s so high and mighty cause he has cool powers, so fucking what? Sure, he could fly, he could lift things with his brain, whatever. Connor could lift things with his arms, he could fly, and he had super speed. Top that, Rammy .
Connor wasn’t exactly sure what this guy’s deal was. He seemed to have an ulterior motive for doing this shit, Connor just couldn’t figure out what it was. Maybe there wasn’t one. It was like he only showed up to fight him, and even then he’d pull his punches. Once Connor realized that, he started pulling punches too.
This guy meant no harm to civilians, he was just a pain in the ass, there was no real reason to really hurt him. In fact, he was usually tapping out and flying away after a few solid hits.
Connor did have super strength after all.
But the most infuriating part was that he just couldn’t figure the Ram out. What was his deal?
_____
Would it kill people to know that most of Schlatt’s motivation for being a general super powered nuisance was boredom and an all around desire for attention? Probably. So that’s why he never told anyone.
Who would he tell, anyway? There wasn’t anyone in his life he could tell. No friends, his family didn’t care much, if at all. So yeah, maybe he was doing this for attention. But so what?
It wasn’t like Sonic wasn’t either, though. They were both here for the same thing, even if Schlatt’s idea of attention-seeking stress relief involved a bit of rule breaking. It started out as flying around as fast as he could, just to feel the wind and the air, feel his heart pumping in his throat. Sometimes he’d fly as high as he dared, until the air started getting thin, the lack of oxygen threatening to make him pass out. Wouldn’t that be a fun way to die? He could see the headlines every time; Stupid Fucking Guy Mysteriously Falls From The Sky.
He always turned back, though, out of some shame of dying that way. He’d stop flying, just let himself fall cause that was, to him, the most exhilarating feeling, to fall, to not have to worry about the short stop cause he could just save himself at a second’s notice. He could just let his mind fall clear in moments like those, let his eyes fall closed until he heard the sounds of traffic beneath him, then catch himself before he hit the ground.
Soon, though, that wasn’t enough for him to fall and fall and fall some more. It never satisfied any desire he had, just became another addiction entirely. So he started breaking things. Minor inconveniences for people, he was sure. He found he could shatter glass with his mind, pick things up without anyone being any the wiser as to who was doing it.
Then someone had the gall to call these mysterious vandalizations the work of a villain. He wasn’t hurting anyone, it wasn’t like that, definitely not anything worthy of being called a villain.
But it fed entirely into his need for attention, tickled and teased his mind into doing more, more, always more. He even started owning up to it, putting on a mask and a costume to hide his identity. He couldn’t hide his horns, but that was alright, he was practically invisible as a civilian anyway, hardly daring to go out anyway.
He got bolder. Started appearing on television. Made a name for himself as ‘the Ram’.
His father found out, and put pieces together immediately. He wasn’t happy. Schlatt got his ass handed to him that night, and his head made acquaintance with the wall at one point, but too bad his father didn’t understand that this was entirely for attention, and he got exactly what he wanted. He was no longer invisible, that was what he wanted.
If his father failed to realize he was playing into Schlatt’s desires, that was on him.
It was too much of an ego boost when Sonic started confronting him. He’d lose every fight, of course, he was not remotely a close match for Sonic’s speed and strength, but for some reason he kept coming back for more, even if he always walked away with a few painful bruises.
Sonic was smart, though. Schlatt didn’t need to get hit around too many times for him to be calling time, so Sonic didn’t put as much strength as he had before into his punches. Schlatt had never really wanted to hurt anyone, so he never actively tried to hurt Sonic, unless the speedy hero was apparently having a bad day and decided that he was a good stress reliever. They’d always fight in the sky, to minimize damage to other people, so as long as he could catch himself, Sonic could bat him around in the sky quite a bit. He’d fight back, though he couldn’t ever land many hits on the speedster, because of his speed. He tried, though, which was important.
Still, even if the attention was negative, he was seen. He was a good stress reliever to someone, a vent, if you will. And the vandalism? So what? It didn’t matter, as long as no one got hurt. He’d throw a car or two at Sonic as a distraction to escape sometimes, making him race after that to catch before it crashed as Schlatt got away.
But the general feeling of fighting was exhilarating. Fighting Sonic, specifically, because he’d never had someone who would pull his punches when fighting, just because he realized he was against someone who very much was not a match for him. What a considerate nemesis.
While Schlatt felt bad that he was just doing this for attention, he was also sorta helping Sonic, too. Public adoration was no small thing, especially for a hero. He was a symbol of safety, even if his biggest threat was some superpowered punk who just wanted an ounce of attention. Still, Schlatt sometimes felt bad for taking up so much of that guy’s time, but really, without him, what would Sonic be? Nothing but a superpowered cop. The villain, if Schlatt even qualified for such a title, which apparently he did, was what made a hero.
Not to mention, everytime Sonic felt the need to take out his anger on Schlatt, any guilt he had about taking up the man’s time was replaced by bitterness. Shouldn’t this guy just get a therapist? Schlatt was a little tired of being everyone’s punching bag. He’d been one all his life, but apparently that was all he was destined for. All this getting beaten around made him actually want to be a villain, want to do bad things, want to hurt people.
But no. He didn’t want to hurt people, not really. That wasn’t ever his intention. Even if people hurt him, he didn’t wanna be that. He didn’t want to be that kind of person.
_____
Connor would swear that that guy was planning something. No ‘villain’ was ever only interested in vandalism, he had to be planning something bigger.
The question was what, though, and often he’d spend hours of the night trying to figure out what the Ram was up to. It was infuriating that he couldn’t figure it out, even to the point where it would actually piss him off, and he’d end up banging up the villain the next time he saw him. He probably shouldn’t, he knew that the Ram pulled his punches, and he tried to do the same, but sometimes he was just so pissed off, he couldn’t help it. Of course the Ram kept coming back, so it wasn’t like he was actually hurt.
He really shouldn't try to justify using another person as a punching bag. As soon as it became okay in his mind it would stop being justice and start being a problem. But for now it was justice, even if he went too far sometimes. Perhaps that was why he didn’t try very hard to get him arrested, because he felt bad for going too far.
Really though, he should just get on with it, it was allowing this man to inconvenience civilians. But every time he made up his mind about handing him over to the police, something new would come up, influencing his decision, making him hesitate.
The Ram showed no clear hostile intent to civilians, or people in general. He seemed hesitant to hurt Connor, too, even if they were adversaries. It really seemed like he was planning something, though every time Connor demanded information out of him, he’d just look confused.
Connor was determined to find out what the Ram was planning, at this point. He couldn’t just hand him over to the police without finding out what. No villain would waste this much time unless they were stalling for something, right? Connor had to find out what it was. Needed to.
So he did research. He found out this guy’s powers, the limits to which he could push his powers, but he couldn’t figure out the motive that this guy had.
The Ram could fly, that was a given, by how they fought in the sky. He could telepathically move things, though he appeared to have difficulty moving anything over the weight of a large car. He’d stopped Connor a few times in his place, but it was mostly just to get away. Connor could catch up to him with ease, having super speedy flight.
If it weren’t for the clever ways that the Ram found to use his telekinesis, he would really be no match for Connor. If he got far enough away, he could disappear into the city, and Connor couldn’t find him, so he always tried to catch him before the Ram could slip away. Unfortunately, the villain knew the streets of the city better, but that also revealed something important.
The Ram lived in the city. He seemed very comfortable in back alleys, whenever they weren’t fighting in the air, so Connor could infer that he lived somewhere in the city with access to back alleys.
Unfortunately, there were thousands of those, so it didn’t narrow it down much, to be honest. He had a map of the areas that the Ram shows up in most often, but the man was smart, appearing all over the city at random. Connor couldn’t pin him down.
A few acquaintances tore him away from his thinking to go get drinks. Connor decided to go, thinking it would be a good way to relieve stress. Little did he know it would be a very interesting night.
After his first or second drink, Connor realized that he needed better friends, as they completely ignored him and spoke amongst themselves. He excused himself to go to the bathroom, staring at himself in the mirror.
“Idiot. Why do you do this to yourself? Stupid friends. Stupid villains. Stupid Ram , so fucking high and mighty. What does he even want? Why attack but not attack? Can’t he just fuck off?” Connor said to himself, thinking the bathroom was empty.
“You get affected by his latest attack?” someone in a stall asked. Connor jumped.
“Oh. um. Yeah. He’s an asshole, huh?” The someone flushed, and came out of the stall to wash his hands. He was very tall, with rather striking horns that bore an eerie resemblance to a certain villain Connor knew.
“He is. Let me guess. It’s the horns, isn't it? I get so many comments, glares and shit,” he said, noticing Connor’s stare.
“Yeah, sorry. You seem pretty chill, though. What’s your name?”
“Oh, they call me, uh, Soap Boy,” the man said, laughing. Connor went along with it.
“Okay, Soap Boy.”
“You were wondering what the Ram’s motive could be?”
“Yeah, I was. Any ideas?”
“Maybe he’s just doing this for attention,” Soap Boy said. Connor stared at him like he was crazy. “Think about it. He doesn’t wanna hurt anyone, the worst he does really is just be a general inconvenience. I think it’s for attention.”
“Huh. I guess. But what if he’s planning something?” Connor asked.
“What would he be planning? I think people give him too much credit. Think about the way he does things. They're pretty petty and uncoordinated. I don’t think he’s very smart.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
_____
Schlatt wasn’t sure why he offered advice to the man in the bathroom. He just seemed really familiar, maybe something in his voice, or the fact that he was literally angry ranting about him, albeit unknowingly, but Schlatt just thought something was up with him. So he kept talking to him. It wasn’t like he came here with anyone.
They ended up outside the building, sitting on the curb and talking about random shit. Schlatt felt… happy, for once, like he was seen, and that it was a good thing for him to exist for once. They ended up trading numbers, and even though he never caught the other man’s name, he very quickly soon found out it didn’t matter what his name was.
The man got very excited after Schlatt gave him his phone number, so much so that there was a brief rush of wind, a brief, familiar rush of wind, and the man was gone. Schlatt’s blood went cold. To anyone else, they would have passed it off as a drunken haze, but to Schlatt, it just all made sense. The man was familiar because Schlatt knew him. That man was Sonic, the one and only, his adversary. Schlatt took to the skies after him, trying to see where he went.
He shouldn’t, he really shouldn’t. Sonic had been so nice to him today, made him feel like an actual person for once, made him feel seen, saw him in a good way.
He saw where Sonic landed. Some apartment building near the city. Not too far from where Schlatt lived, actually. He debated with himself, though really there was no debate. Schlatt had gotten attached the second someone was even remotely willing to talk to him. He had to keep messaging him.
_____
Why did he do that? Why did he do that? Why did he do that? Take off in front of some random person who didn’t even give him a real name when asked. He just hoped that the man was too drunk or crazy to actually accept that as real. But what could he say? Soap Boy was nice, offered Connor some insight that he’d already thought of, just not that hard. And then he’d gotten his number, and it was just really exciting. He hadn’t had someone want to be his friend in a while.
They messaged each other a few times a day, and Connor found out that the other one really liked to word vomit about various disasters, such as the Hindenburg and the Triangle Shirtwaist factory, and also about other weird and macabre things that Connor never knew he didn’t need to know, like the story of Mr. Hands.
Soap Boy apparently didn’t have anyone else who would ever listen, so Connor found it adorable that he wanted to tell him all this.
But one day Soap Boy mentioned rather cryptically how the Ram had ruined his life. Connor didn’t know what it was, but for some reason, after his friend told him that, Connor just wanted to hurt the villain, really hurt him. Soap Boy had mentioned that it was really complicated, so he didn’t elaborate, but he didn’t need to. Connor knew how to get back at the Ram. if Soap Boy couldn’t, then he’d do it for him.
_____
Sometimes they went too far, and they ended up causing more damage to things than what would have been typical of a normal Ram attack. Breaking windows, damaging some foundations and pillars, but nothing like this . This was… well, it was a mess. And it was Sonic’s fault, Schlatt thought they could both agree. The hero was livid today, throwing Schlatt around a lot harder than he normally did.
At one point in their fight, Sonic had managed to grab him and hurl him at a building with such force that it damaged the building. Badly. It had done a number on Schlatt’s body, too, but nothing that he’d actively reveal to Sonic. He flew back up to return the punch, but as he got up to him, he heard a loud crash and screams from below. His attention snapped to the ground. The building that he’d impacted with was crumbling, slowly starting to fall into the street beside it. He glanced over at Sonic, who seemed frozen for a second. A second too long. He was a hero, he had to protect the people! That wasn’t Schlatt’s job!
Still, Schlatt didn’t want anyone to get hurt, and he’d never be able to forgive himself if he did nothing, so he dropped, flying over to where the building was going to fall. He forgot all about his limits, and concentrated. The building stopped falling just shy of a critical tilt, and people started running out of the drop zone. The building still fell, but slower, more easing down threateningly. Rubble started falling, and Schlatt was too concentrated on slowing the bigger problem to worry about the rubble.
He could hear people, but it all felt muddled. His head was screaming at him, he couldn’t keep this up much longer. It felt like his mind was tearing in two, struggling to keep the giant weight of the building up. His arms shook above his head, holding up this imaginary weight.
Something clung to his leg, and Schlatt tore his concentration to see a small boy clinging to his leg, shaking in fear. He probably wouldn’t be able to escape the rubble zone alone. Schlatt pushed back against the concrete and steel mass with a new vigor, this kid was counting on him to live.
Where the flying fuck was Sonic? Wasn’t he the hero here? Schlatt couldn’t keep this up for much longer.
There, he saw, as a blur passed in his field of vision. He was moving people out of the way. Good. Just a little bit more, he thought, as his arms shook and his mind tore further. He could feel gravity working against him, he was scared to look up to see how far away the building was. Sweat beaded on his face under the mask, pooling under his eyes and in his mustache. He spared a glance upward, panting in exhaustion when he saw that the building was only about ten feet from crushing him and this poor boy.
He fought down a wave of nausea as the strain almost doubled as he tried to push it away a little bit more, give Sonic just a bit more time.
There it was, the familiar rush of wind right next to him, and the child was gone. Good. Schlatt couldn’t keep this up anymore. He tried to, just in case Sonic might come back for him, but as his vision cut out, he was pretty sure he wouldn’t.
Schlatt gave one last push, feeling the mental limits in his head tear a little more, and a searing pain ripped through his head as he finally let go, and the building fell. Something tackled him, grabbing him and moving him, and then he was gone.
_____
What the fuck was he doing? He was exacting revenge for someone else on the Ram. He couldn’t be less of a hero right now. Nevertheless, he still went all out on the Ram, hurling him at full force into the side of a building. He took longer than Connor would have expected to recover, so that must have hurt. When he finally got back up to Connor’s level, though, they heard a crack, and the building that he’d thrown the villain into began collapsing.
It would forever be his biggest regret that he hesitated, and the Ram did not, dropping down immediately to go stop it. That was what made Connor move, not the falling building. The fact that the Ram was trying to help.
Connor dove into action, zooming around, moving people out of the way. How the fuck the Ram was doing this, he had no idea. The most that he's ever been able to lift before was big cars, and this was much bigger than any car.
Connor rushed, moving people as fast as he could. Just when he thought he’d gotten everyone, he glanced over to see how much more room the Ram had to slip. There was a child clinging to the Ram, and Connor could see his face screwed up in concentration through the mask. He raced over and took the child to safety, then did one last sweep to make sure he got everyone. He did.
Well, not everyone.
Should he even save the Ram? He caused so much damage, and while it could be argued that this one was his fault, most of the other damage was all Rammy.
Wait. What was he thinking? It wasn't his job to play Judge, Jury, and Executioner! He was a hero, he saved lives! He raced back to grab the ‘villain’, reaching him just in time, as his knees buckled and his body started to collapse, the building being released from its tentative hold. Connor grabbed him and raced out of the rubble zone, laying him down atop another building. Connor looked down to see the damage they caused, then looked back at the Ram to have him come look, too.
The Ram was out cold, unresponsive and unmoving. He couldn’t see much of his face through the mask, but what he could see was pale, and his normally well-kept horns looked bleached. Was he… dead?
Connor knelt close to the Ram, feeling for a pulse and watching his chest to see if he was breathing. His breathing was shallow, but there, and his pulse was normal. Not dead, at least. Connor let out a sigh he didn’t know he’d been holding.
What to do with him, though? He couldn’t give him to law enforcement, he didn’t think he deserved that after helping save so many people from a disaster that was, effectively, Connor’s fault. That wouldn’t be fair to the Ram. But he also couldn’t leave him here, that would be bad. He couldn’t take him home, either. Like hell he wanted that man to know where he lived.
The Ram stirred, letting out a pained groan. Connor’s attention snapped to him, his eyes still closed and his brow furrowed. He blinked himself awake, eyes hazed over in pain. He slowly brought a hand to his head, covering his eyes.
“Are you okay?” Connor asked.
“Mmgh. ‘M alive, aren't I?” the Ram mumbled. He tried to sit up, but groaned in pain and brought his other hand to his head.
“Do you need anything?”
“... A hero offering a villain help? What is this?”
“Well you're a pretty shitty villain, you just helped save a lot of people, Ram.”
“That, that boy, who grabbed onto me. You got him, right?”
“Of course.”
“Okay. Then… I guess… Can you take me somewhere? Or even just to the ground?”
“Where to?”
“Fuckin… I don’t know. Help me sit up, I’ll point.” Connor went ahead and picked the man up, hearing him grunt in pain and deciding to ignore it. He looked around, eyes still hazed with pain, and eventually decided on a direction, asking him to fly him a mile or so ‘that way’.
Some part of Connor thought that the Ram should just fly himself, but the sensible part of him knew that the Ram was absolutely drained. He’d used far beyond the limits of his powers, he would be shocked if the ‘villain’ could even walk.
Over the wind, he heard the Ram tell him to just drop him off around here, so Connor touched down and made sure that he’d be fine. He started lumbering off, much to Connor’s surprise. He refused the urge to follow him, and left him be.
_____
Schlatt was out of commission for a while. His father had berated him, saying that he wouldn’t be in this position if he’d just let the building fall. Wouldn’t be this pathetic if he’d stopped being so weak and let people die.
Schlatt had half a mind to carry his father so far up into the sky that they both passed out, never waking up again, as they became asphalt pancakes. But no. No, he could barely stand up without passing out, he wouldn’t be able to even lay a hand on his father until he was much stronger. As for just doing it telekinetically, he doubted he could move a paperclip right now, much less his father, who was not a small man. Schlatt thought he was tall, and then his father always manages to make him feel like a child, towering over him before dishing him a new one. He didn’t approve of Schlatt’s being a villain, but hated it even more that he half-assed it. He seemed to be even angrier when Schlatt fled from a fight with few wounds to speak of, would make up for it by giving him a few of his own.
Now Schlatt was out of commission, could barely stand, much less defend himself. He’d gotten home after the building fell and promptly collapsed against the wall, passing out immediately. He awoke to water being splashed in his face, and his father yelling at him to stand the fuck up.
He needed to get out of here. It had been at least a few weeks since the building fell, and he wasn’t getting any better. His father called him weak, weakened him further, hit him, hurt him. Schlatt needed rest for his mind to heal. It still felt like his mind was splitting him apart, and the pain would travel in waves to his whole body.
He needed to get out. With every passing day, he could feel his father’s patience growing thinner and thinner. He needed to save up his strength, get to someone that would help him. But who? He didn’t have a single friend in this whole damn city.
… but he did have an enemy.
An enemy who was technically Soap Boy’s friend… and he was Soap Boy, to Sonic, at least…
Not to mention, Sonic was technically a servant of the peace. As long as Schlatt wasn’t a threat to the peace, he couldn’t attack him. And Schlatt was in no state to be a threat to anyone.
And he knew where Sonic lived…
He needed to do that. Before his father decided Schlatt had had enough time of ‘laziness’ or ‘moping around’.
Unfortunately, that day came a lot sooner than what Schlatt was prepared for. As everyone inevitably does, Schlatt’s father grew tired of seeing his face.
Schlatt left as quickly as he could, but not without a few parting gifts from his father. A few bruised ribs and a nasty gash on his side, not to mention a broken nose and a black eye, to further irritate his already splitting headache.
Schlatt dragged himself through the streets of the city, feeling like hell just spit him out, and probably looking like it, too.
He made his way over to the apartment building where he saw Sonic land that one night after the bar, somehow making it there without passing out. He leaned heavily on the wall beside it, pulling his mask up so that Sonic would know who it was.
He knocked on the door and prayed someone would answer.
_____
It’s been an uneventful day. Uneventful week, actually. Or, more precisely, an uneventful several weeks.
Regarding the super world, no one had seen any trace of the Ram. Connor had been monitoring the internet and the news for weeks, and no one had seen him. Connor halfway hoped he’d died, halfway hoped he was okay.
It was late at night, and Connor was watching the news. There was a knock at the door, and Connor looked over. There was a moment of silence, and Connor turned his attention back on the television. Then he heard it again. He got up, went to his door, and looked out the peephole.
No one was there. That was… odd. The knock sounded again, and Connor opened the door.
The Ram was there, leaning on his door frame, out of sight of the peephole. He opened his mouth to speak, and Connor promptly shut the door on him.
“We don’t deal with villains here,” he stated.
“Please let me in.” The Ram's voice was quiet, a vast difference from the usual boisterous tone he used.
“You’re a villain. I’m just a citizen.”
"You’re sonic. I know. Please just let me in."
"Why should I?"
"I have nowhere else to go."
"And you think I'll let you in?"
"Forgive me for thinking of you as trustworthy."
"Aren't we enemies?"
"We both pull our punches. If we were enemies, you wouldn't hold back."
"Why should I let you in."
“Please.” The Ram's voice sounded weak. Connor sighed. Why would the ram come here if he wasn't desperate? Apparently, he spent too long thinking, because there was a shift from the other side of the door. "Nevermind. Have a nice day, Sonic."
"Wait." He was gonna regret this. He opened the door. The Ram pushed himself off the wall, and Connor could see that this guy... wasn't doing great. He had an arm wrapped protectively around his side, and was using the other to stabilize himself on the wall. Connor rolled his eyes and helped him inside, supporting him with an arm looped under his. The Ram winced, but said nothing as he was led over to the couch.
"Oh, I'm kinda bloody, I dunno if you want me on your furniture."
"Bl- did you kill someone?"
"No. You know me. I would never."
"Or would you? So then what? You're bleeding? Where?" The Ram tried to smile, but it was more of a grimace. He lifted his arm, revealing a bloody wound. Connor's eyes widened. "What the fuck happened to you?"
"I… can't… explain?"
"Why not?"
"It's not... super related."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, I have a life outside the fights we have."
“Impossible."
"Yeah. Well." the ram winced again.
"Are you in pain?"
"Whaaat? Noo. Maybe a bit… yeah."
"I can try and patch you up if you want to sleep," Connor suggested to the ram.
"Nmh. I can't ask you to do that."
"You look about five seconds away from passing out, anyway."
"... Promise you won't... do anything else?"
"What kind of guy do you think I am?"
"Hey, can't blame me, you don't get far as a villain without some kind of trust issue."
"I promise I wont do anything, Ram."
"... It's Schlatt."
"What?"
"My name. It's Schlatt."
"Oh. Cool. I'm not gonna tell you mine just yet."
"That was in case you needed me to wake up. I didn't expect you to tell me."
"Ok."
"I'm gonna take off my mask. you haven't got yours on, it feels weird.'' He brought his arm up, wincing, and took off his mask. Immediately, Connor recognized him.
"Soap Boy.”
“You got me.”
“You’re the Ram?”
“I wanted to tell you.”
“So you knew. You figured out who I was.”
“I knew before I said anything.”
“So all that stuff you said?”
“I never lied to you.”
“Really? Not about your motive? Or about anything else? How the Ram ‘ruined your life’?”
“He did. That is, I ruined my own life.”
“Well at least we agree on that.”
“But about my motive, no. No, I wasn't lying.”
“Petty motivation. Attention seeking?” Connor asked, judging. The Ram gave him a pained smile.
“Yeah, yeah, I know. But imagine you grow up in a city where no one knows your name, no one cares who the hell you are, and your family couldn’t give less of a shit about you. You call it petty, I call it psychological.”
“But it’s bad attention.”
“Still attention.”
Other than (resentfully) being a familiar face, The Ram- Schlatt, Connor reminded himself,- didn't look like what he thought he would. He looked like he was in his late thirties to early forties, though that could just be the mutton chops adorning his face. The man looked... tired. Exhausted. Worse than he did when they teamed up to save everyone from that falling building.
"You look like you have something to say," Schlatt said. His eyes looked unfocused, hazed with pain.
“How old are you?" Connor asked.
"Figures. How old do you think I am?"
"Forty."
"Jesus, do the chops really put that many years on me? I'm 22, dude."
"No way."
"Well, you can believe it or not, but I'm gonna pass out now, so you have fun deliberating." Connor nodded, and Schlatt let his head drop onto the couch, and his eyes fell shut.
That was crazy. This whole thing was crazy. The Ra- Schlatt was crazy. But it was all a little closer to home when Connor heard that Schlatt was 22. Connor was 22. They were the same age. That could have been him .
Once he heard the other’s breathing even out, he started treating the wound on his side. His nose was broken as well, but as long as he didn’t lean back too far, he wouldn’t choke on his blood. Besides, this wound seemed a bit more pressing.
Connor lifted his shirt to see that this was a lot worse than his initial assumption. Not necessarily life-threatening, but still bad if left untreated. It was long and deep, but what was concerning aside from that were the numerous bruises that were scattered across Schlatt’s skin. Connor knew that he’d hit him hard in that last encounter, but this much, and it definitely would have healed by now, it had been almost a month! Unless Connor had broken bones, which he didn’t think he had, this was someone else.
Attention, Connor reminded himself as he began to treat the wound on Schlatt’s side, was the motive behind Schlatt’s actions as the Ram. Good attention, bad attention. It seemed the same to him. Any attention was good attention. It was enough to remind Connor that not all villains were supervillains just because they had superpowers. There needed to be a motive there, too, and just wanting an ounce of attention wasn’t enough to make anyone a supervillain. It just made them sad.
Connor finished bandaging the wound, and looked at the man. He… okay well the horns were pretty fucking intimidating, but he didn’t look like a villain. He just looked like a guy.
Schlatt ended up not waking up the next day, but color was slowly returning to his face, so that was good. They needed to fix that broken nose, though, and Connor needed to look at any other injuries, so he hoped he’d wake up soon. He also had several questions, but that could wait a bit.
Around midday, after Schlatt had been asleep for a good 36 hours or so, he woke up. His eyes slowly creaked open, and he looked around lethargically before apparently realizing that he was not at home and promptly panicking.
“Ram, relax. You’re with me, in my apartment,” Connor said, appearing in his vision.
“How- how long have I been asleep? The… how did I get here?”
“You’ve been asleep for about a day and a half. As for how you got here, I have no idea.”
“Right… sorry… about all this…”
“It’s fine, I guess. I patched up your side by the way. It was pretty bad. Care to explain how that happened?” Connor asked. Schlatt bit his lip.
“Can I say no?” he asked. Connor scoffed.
“No. I think you can give me at least an explanation.”
“Right. Well, we all have our demons.”
“Is yours a tendency to vandalize property?”
“No, that’s a fault. My demon takes on a more… real… personification. That is to say, its a person. Who does not necessarily get along with me.”
“You mean me. We don’t get along.”
“No. No, you and I, we’re symbiotic. We benefit each other.”
“I do not ever want to hear that we benefit each other again. You are a criminal. Explain, please.”
“Well, I made you famous. Or at least known. What’s a hero without their villain?” Schlatt said. He… wasn’t wrong there.
“How do I benefit you then?”
“I want to exist. I want people to acknowledge my existence. Nobody cared about me before I put on the mask. Now, people notice when I’m around, and they notice when I’m not.”
“But it has a bad connotation.”
“Would you rather people acknowledge your death when you die or would you rather slip through the cracks, like you never existed?”
“So you really are just doing this for attention. You need help, man,” Connor huffed. Schlatt chuckled hollowly.
“Yeah. I know.”
“So if you and I are symbiotic, what does that make you and your ‘demon’?”
“Parasitic, we just can't decide in which direction.”
“How do you mean?”
“Well he would say I’m the parasite cause that's what children are, but he lives in my apartment, and he could leave any time, he just likes seeing me fail to thrive in this society.”
“Wait, hold up. How do children come into play here?”
“Right. Sorry. He’s my father. He would say that I’m the parasite cause I’m his child. But he lives in my apartment, doesn’t have a job, and spends his free time telling me how I'm not gonna make it in the real world as a petty vandal.”
“Well you aren’t.”
“Thanks, Sonic,” Schlatt said, rolling his eyes. “I meant that he wants me to go bigger. I try not to hurt people because I don’t wanna be that. He thinks I should quit being a pussy and just stop holding back.”
“Ohh. Wait, did he do this to you?”
“... I don’t believe I said that.”
“But did he?”
“You don’t care about me, what would it matter?”
“Schlatt. Why are you protecting him?”
“He’s my father!”
“Has he ever protected you?”
“...”
“Did he do this to you.”
“Yes. Okay? Why the fuck do you care so much?”
“Well when someone appears past half dead on your doorstep, you tend to want to know why.”
“Whatever. I can leave if it's such an inconvenience.”
“Can you?” Connor asked. Schlatt’s jaw clicked shut and he looked away. “Listen. It’s fine that you’re here. Just means that you’re not out there destroying stuff.” Schlatt grumbled. “Where have you been, by the way? The news thinks you died.”
“Might as well have. You know how whenever we fight I try not to lift anything heavier than a car?”
“With your tele- whatever? Yeah.”
“Telekinesis, but sure. Well, that’s about my limit. I strained my power a lot, and that was a trip, but I’m not gonna go into it with you.”
“That’s fair.”
“By the way… did you get everyone out?” Schlatt asked, with a tone that Connor could only describe as genuine concern.
“Yeah. I did.”
“Good. You know, I wouldn’t have blamed you if you left me.” The ram met his eyes again and cracked a small smile. “Might have even thanked you.” Connor’s blood ran cold.
“What? Why?”
“Come on, you can’t think of an answer? Use your imagination. At any rate, you can’t tell me you didn’t think about it. Leaving me.”
“I didn’t.”
“Liar.”
“Okay, sure, I did, but I didn’t!”
“Why not?”
“Cause heroes save people.”
“I was your adversary. You didn’t have to save me.”
“Listen, I don’t have to explain anything to you,” Connor glared.
“Just making conversation, sorry.” Schlatt rolled his eyes and focused back on the wall. The conversation died there, even if only momentarily.
“Cause you were trying to help,” Connor sighed in defeat. “And cause technically it was my fault. I threw you into the building cause I was mad.”
“You had every opportunity to hand me over to the police. I don't even remember how I got home. Why didn’t you just turn me in?”
“Because I hesitated and you didn’t. The building started falling and I froze. You jumped right in. I couldn’t have been acting less like a hero that day, and you literally stuck yourself under a falling building, despite knowing you could die. That is a heroic act. I didn’t hand you in because it would have made me the most hypocritical hero ever.”
“How weren’t you acting like a hero?” Schlatt asked, intrigued.
“I was being vengeful. Heroes are supposed to just do the jobs that the police can’t, apprehend the people that can get away, help whenever the first responders are out of their depth. I was using you as a punching bag, letting out my anger on you. Over something you yourself said.”
“It's okay, I'm used to being a punching bag.”
“That doesn’t make it okay. That makes it so far from okay.”
“Sorry. Wh-what did I say to anger you?”
“Back when I didn’t know you were Soap Boy, you messaged me something along the lines of how the Ram ‘ruined your life’. I cared about Soap Boy, so I tried to get back at you for hurting him. That’s vengeance. Heroes aren’t supposed to do that,” Connor explained. Schlatt was staring at his lap. A small smile slowly grew on his face.
“You cared about me?” He looked up at Connor, who quickly rolled his eyes and brushed him off.
“I cared about Soap Boy.”
“Oh.” The smile dropped and he looked back at his lap. That came out wrong.
“I meant-”
“Stop. I get it. Lies are easier to like than the truth. Believe me, I know.”
They fell into silence after that, sitting in not-entirely uncomfortable silence. Connor eventually grabbed the television remote and turned on the tv, starting to watch Pokémon. He looked at Schlatt to see if he was gonna judge him for watching a kids show, just to see him watching blankly, face impassive.
“What’s that look for?” Connor asked. Schlatt blinked back.
“Oh sorry. I’ve seen bits and pieces of this show but I don’t understand the plot line, I was just trying to piece it together.”
“Oh I thought you were judging me for watching a kids show.”
“No actually I almost respect you more, how many people do you know that would actively watch a kids show around someone they don’t know very well? They’d put on some macho cool show. Putting this on shows that you’re a real person, you don’t care much about if people think you’re lame or not. I respect it.”
“Oh. Huh. Thank you,” Connor smiled. Schlatt was smarter than he seemed. Or maybe that migraine was holding him down. “Do you want me to explain the plot line to you? Or start it over? I don’t mind either, I’ve seen this a million times.”
“Why not both?” Schlatt shrugged. Connor went back to the first episode and started explaining the plot line to him.
“It can get a little boring before the actual story begins, or before anything happens, but just bear with me.”
“Okay.”
Connor launched an explanation of why there were Pokémon instead of animals, since Schlatt asked, and then told him about Ash, and his goal. He explained stuff as it came along, talking lively as the show went on.
At one point, he glanced over at Schlatt and faltered in his spiel. The Ram was nodding off, trying to stay awake, blinking himself awake every few seconds. Connor thought it was a bit rude at first, given how he was trying to explain this for him, but then he remembered; Schlatt’s mind was still healing. Of course he’d be exhausted, but he was trying to stay awake. Connor lowered his tone, continuing his explanation in a low voice as he glanced over periodically to watch Schlatt lose his battle with sleep.
Connor lowered the volume and went back to the episode he was on before, letting Schlatt have some background noise while he slept. He almost felt a sense of pride, having been able to put the man to sleep.
When Schlatt woke back up a few hours later, he apologized for nodding off.
“It was interesting, I promise, and it was really cool that you were so passionate about it, but-”
“Schlatt, technically speaking, you have a brain injury. Sort of. I don’t blame you for needing sleep.”
“Okay… we can keep watching it if you want… the last thing I remember is like… double bubble? Toil and trouble?”
“Hahah, team rocket.”
“Yeah they were funny, I liked them.”
“Nice. Oh yeah, when’s the last time you ate anything?” Schlatt’s smile dropped, and he looked away.
“Uhhhh. I have no idea. Sorry.”
“That’s okay, I was just gonna order a pizza or something if you’d like some?”
“Sure, sounds good. Thank you.”
The day continued and they kept chatting, watching Pokémon. It was easy, then, to forget that they were adversaries. Two people who were supposed to hate each other, to oppose each other, sitting on a couch talking easily about simple things.
It was Schlatt who brought it back around.
“So. I’ve been thinking.”
“Okay?”
“I know we’re having a good time now, at least I am, but I can’t stop thinking about when you’re gonna turn me in. I’m right here, I can’t really go anywhere…”
“You know… this is gonna make me a bad hero, but I’m not going to,” Connor answered. He’d thought a bit about it, too.
“… I have a way it wouldn’t make you a bad hero.”
“What’s that?”
“If the Ram died.”
“What? I’m not gonna kill you!”
“No no no, you misunderstand. I… I started doing all this villain stuff from a place of self-loathing. The first thing I did when I realized I could fly was I flew as high as I could and I let myself fall. I caught myself, but I kept doing it, and I got addicted to the rush that came with falling. No one ever noticed, why would they? And then I started going further. I got a mask, and that stupid fucking costume. And then you showed up, and it felt like I was someone for once. It was in a bad connotation, but at least I wasn't invisible anymore.”
“I’m not following.”
“You are my hero, Sonic. I’ve been meaning to get out of this business for a while anyway, I have a perfect opportunity here. The whole city thinks I’m dead. I can just disappear. Fade back into the background like before. Just not… you know… not come out again.”
“But why? You don’t have to. From what I hear the city might offer you a pardon since you never really hurt anyone, and helped so much in saving everyone.”
“Sonic… this used to make me feel better. Not the crimes, and the destruction it caused, but being a topic of conversation. Having people talk about me, good or bad, when I'm not there. For once I wasn’t in the background. Wasn’t ignored, overlooked, cast aside. But now..? I don’t feel anything anymore, not from this. So why keep trying on that end? Why not fade back, wait for the need to be there again, and then make a judgement from that? Why not try something new?”
“Like what?”
“Like… I could move. I could stop paying the rent on my other place and get my dad evicted. I could finally be free of my fuckwad father. I could go out, make friends. Try and have a life, I guess.”
“Well, if you’re serious… Let me be your first friend?”
“Really? I thought you hated me.”
“I was just your adversary. I didn’t really hate you. Plus, now I know you better. Youre cool, and fun to talk to,” Connor smiled. Schlatt smiled back slowly.
“Alright. Sure.”
“In that case, I can tell you my name. I’m Connor.”
“Connor. Nice. I’m Schlatt. Ah- but… you… already knew that.” Schlatt flushed, sucking his teeth. Connor chuckled.
“It’s okay.”
“Hey, Connor?”
“Yeah, Schlatt?”
“Thank you,” Schlatt smiled, eyes kind. He looked like he was feeling better. Connor smiled back, but still asked his question.
“For what?”
“For everything. My hero.”