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Wilbur Soot, better known by his hero name “Symphony”, makes his way through the cities of L’manburg on the lookout. Not just for villains harming poor, innocent civilians, but for his little brother who went missing seven years ago. Seven years too long. People greet him on the way and ask for autographs, which he politely responds to in order to keep up his image of the “perfect hero that everyone else should aspire to be”. The act gets tiring though, and the increase in villain attacks brings him even more fatigue. So when he gets home, he immediately crashes on his bed and waits until his agent calls him the next day as a literal wake-up call.
These are how his days used to go, but recently, they haven’t been the same. Rather, they’re worse. He’d be staying up later and waking up earlier due to an increase in villain attacks that have rapidly become more thought through. It’s nothing he can’t handle though because he’s Symphony, the greatest hero there’s ever been in the past two centuries.
He’s on his usual patrol route when he hears screams for help and rushes to the disaster zone.
There’s been a shooting.
People are yelling and panicking; the sound of machine guns firing adds to the cacophony. Overhead signs are falling, and he has to run to save the people who are in too much shock to move away from them. Buildings shake slightly when their foundation is shot repeatedly. Blood is splattered on the ground as if it were its natural color.
In the middle of all the turmoil is a group of masked individuals who laugh, mocking him.
Fists clenched tightly, he gently sets down the person in his arms against a wall and runs towards the group of people. He’s unable to dodge some of the gunshots, but luckily, they only graze his skin. When he’s in closer range, he activates his powers through song. He begins humming orders and watches as they fall to their knees, entranced.
After making quick work of the main group, he brings out his own gun to shoot the snipers at seven o’clock and sixteen o’clock respectively. However, before he can call his hero agency to clean up the mess and take the criminals to jail, he gets intercepted by a new opponent.
This one is covered head to toe in black and dark red (and he doesn’t want to know if that’s part of his outfit or if it’s blood); his face is obscured with a masquerade mask. He gives off a lax aura as if he weren’t in the face of L’manburg’s strongest hero.
“And who might you be?” Symphony inquires, eyes narrowed but tone playful and calm.
“Theseus.”
“Well Theseus, if you don’t wanna go to jail, I need you to step out of the way.”
“Who do you think I am? A pussy? I’m not leaving my comrades behind,” Theseus snarls.
“How very noble of you to go down with your ship then.”
“Haha, very funny, hero.”
Theseus lunges at him with a dagger in hand. Symphony shoots him from afar, but the villain dodges all his shots with ease.
“Is that all you’ve got?”
Something about what he said rattles Symphony who proceeds to rapidly fire at Theseus just like the villains did to the civilians. Still, none of his bullets land.
In the short moment when he has to replace his gun’s empty magazine, Theseus launches forward and kicks it out of his hand. Without his weapon, Symphony can only rely on his powers and his martial arts training to fend off and defeat Theseus, as retrieving his gun would only give the other an opportunity to strike.
Symphony starts humming a lullaby under his breath to try and make Theseus sleepy, therefore making him sloppier and easier to hit. But his hits are relentless, throwing hook after jab repeatedly. He soon gets predictable though, and Symphony adjusts to his fighting style in no time. He smirks when he sees the frustration on the villain’s face at this. Then, he notices a slight tilt of his lip upward. Why is he smiling?
It is here that it hits him. His powers aren’t working. Theseus is not getting fatigued at all.
“Just who are you?”
Theseus ignores his question and continues to weaken Symphony’s defenses; the latter can’t find any opportunity to go on the offense because of Theseus’ speed and agility. He gets scratched and bruised in some areas, but nothing too lethal and painful.
“I see you’re getting tired.”
Symphony doesn’t bother answering, too focused on trying to evade the numerous attacks heading his way. He’s losing focus and stamina quickly. There’s no way he can go on for much longer. This is why he’s always depended on his powers and gun, but now that Theseus has gotten rid of both options, he can only rely on himself alone. That thought scares him more than the thought of being punched in the face.
Alone.
He may have many fans, but does he have any friends? Anyone he can trust? Anyone who will tell him he’s doing a good job? Anyone he can just hang out with for the heck of it? Anyone who will see past his strong, dependable persona and see that he’s just an anxious, tired adult trying to deal with whatever life throws at him?
The moment of reflection on his oh-so-pitiful life gets him struck in the stomach, and blood is forced out of his mouth. He stumbles backward, losing his balance for a few seconds, and Theseus’ onslaught comes to a halt. The villain is also breathing heavily, clearly done spending his energy on this so-called hero.
“Well, that was great practice, Symphony. But I’ll be on my way now. Have a family dinner to attend,” Theseus casually mentions. Oh how Symphony wishes he could go have one too.
Theseus scales up the buildings before Symphony can even get his feet off the ground and makes his way through the roofs of the city. He sighs and looks to where he tied the villains only to find them gone.
Well fuck.
Symphony’s first failure is spread over the news like wildfire, and Theseus’ name becomes feared by heroes and citizens alike. Who is this villain that could defeat the almighty Symphony? Where did he come from? Is he planning on targeting the hero society as a whole by getting rid of their strongest player?
Wilbur is tired of hearing the same questions getting asked to him over and over again. To repeat himself, no, he doesn’t know who or what Theseus is and his objective. All he knows is that he’s smart, and people should be wary of him. He warns his colleagues as well to be on the lookout, and they heed his advice.
As each week passes by without a new Theseus appearance, the number of villain attacks skyrockets. It seems he’s been some sort of “inspiration” for lowly, amateur villains. They’re easy enough to deal with, only time-consuming and a waste of energy.
And while he hates to say this, he desperately wishes for Theseus to reappear. He hasn’t had that much fun in a while. He hasn’t been challenged like that since he was a kid. It’s… surprisingly fun. But if word ever gets out about his desire, he will not hear the end of it.
So he spends his time out and about on the streets in search of both his brother, as per usual, and now Theseus. He has no luck with either, and it frustrates him.
Thus, their second meeting does not happen then, but it actually happens when Symphony is investigating a black market trade involving several military-grade weapons. His mission is to retrieve the goods and submit them to HQ which sounds easy enough.
Except for the fact that the buyer is Theseus himself. In the flesh. He almost giggles with glee, but he has enough self-control and self-respect not to do that.
“Glad to see you’re doing well, Big Q. I’ll just check to make sure everything’s in here.”
“Sounds good to me. You know I’d never lie to you, though.”
“Of course, I’m your favorite customer after all! These will come in handy for what the Syndicate has planned.”
The Syndicate? As in, the criminal organization? Oh, this spells trouble. They only admit the most talented into their ranks; no wonder Theseus is involved with them.
“I see. Any hints? Teasers?”
“Nah, not for now, since we have a little songbird listening in on our conversation.”
Damn, Theseus really is a genius. He might even have more natural talent than Symphony. It’s such a shame that it had to be cultivated and brought into the world by villains.
“You’ve got me,” Symphony says, strolling out of his hiding spot. He doesn’t hesitate to fire shots at both the dealer and Theseus who both dodge swiftly.
“Playing dirty, I see?” Theseus taunts. “Well, lucky for you, I have some new weapons to test out. Come, be my experiment!”
Symphony grips his gun tighter so as to not have it kicked out of his hand again. He won’t make the same mistake twice, won’t assume Theseus is just another weak villain and underestimate him.
Theseus swings the same dagger he used before. Thanks to its shortness, Symphony easily deflects it with his gun before it can reach his head and fires a shot at Tommy. The villain steps to the side, letting out a small exhale of relief at the practically impossible dodge he just did. The bullet digs itself into the wall.
“Good, good! Now you’re taking me seriously!” Theseus exclaims triumphantly as he dodges Symphony’s gun trying to jab him in the shoulder.
It’s a huge mistake though because as he steps his left foot back to evade the hit, Symphony grabs his other shoulder and slams him to the wall with all his strength, creating a loud thud and a larger dent than the bullet did. Theseus doesn’t have any time to recover because Symphony continuously shoots at him. He scurries off the ground and runs to him, determined to take revenge after being humiliated in front of this “Big Q” fella.
“Not so strong, are you now?” Symphony provokes as the clang of steel on steel rings in his ears.
Theseus lashes out and swings his dagger faster. Wilbur’s inhales become more shallow and quicker from all the energy he exerts on steering clear of Theseus’ weapon. “Are you calling me weak ?”
“Oh, so now you can hear me? And yes, I am, dumbass.”
Theseus’s expression darkens, and he unsheathes another weapon. It’s a sword, and Symphony instantly recognizes it as Protesilaus’—the blood god of the Syndicate—handiwork. They’ve fought many times, after all.
Holding the hilt sends comfort through Theseus’ bones, while it sends fear down Symphony’s stomach.
They lunge toward each other and clash, gun versus sword. Theseus deflects Symphony’s cartridges with his blade, while Symphony mixes dodging slashes with shooting out bullets. Thus, the fight doesn’t end, and the bloodshed only continues. Both their weapons and their owners are scratched from the fight, Theseus more so than Symphony due to the bullets piercing his skin.
“Enough, Theseus,” a man says, voice discernable and identifiable despite the clashing of steel and metal.
“Protesilaus. We meet again,” Symphony replies as he lowers his gun. Theseus turns around and swiftly gets hit in the gut with the back of the gun. He sneers.
“Sup, Symph. I’ll be taking him now,” Protesilaus says as he gracefully walks towards Theseus, slashing Symphony’s chest on the way with his netherite sword. He does so with efficiency and strength that surprises Symphony who falls forward, knees buckling. Since when was Protesilaus that skilled? He doesn’t remember him being that fast the last they fought. But to be fair, that was at least a few months ago. So he really needs to up his game too.
Symphony grips his chest with unusual pain and desperation. He looks up to see what happened to the trade only to find both the dealer, the villains, and the goods gone.
He is not looking forward to reporting this.
Expectedly, Wilbur gets scolded for letting the villains escape with the dangerous weapons. People begin whispering about his failures in the office again and how it isn’t a fluke anymore. While he says he doesn’t care about this gossip, he feels the exact opposite.
So he spends his free time training and training like he did back when he was a kid full of potential that was being cultivated by the heroes. This inadvertently reminds him of his little brother Tommy who wished to be a hero too because he wanted to be exactly like his big brother Wilbur. When this memory arises, he stops mowing down the hole-filled target and instead fondly remembers the happiness they shared.
“Wilby, Wilby! Are you busy? Are you?” Tommy asks, jumpy and energetic as always.
Wilbur sighs and nods his head, making Tommy’s grin falter. “Sorry, Toms. But I have training today.”
“Can I watch? Can I?”
“Sure. Just make sure you don’t hurt yourself, okay? That means when I’m practicing, you just watch from the sides so I don’t hit you.”
“Okay, Wil!!!”
They get ready before making their way out of their agency-provided home on the fourth floor to the shooting range on the basement floor. Tommy looks around with glee because he’s never visited, but to Wilbur, this is just another normal day.
“What do you do?”
“Well, I practice my aim and my fighting skills and my powers.”
“Ooh! You have powers?”
“Yeah, but using it too much makes me really tired which is why I have to learn how to fight in other ways.”
“Do you think I have powers too?”
“I’m sure you do, Toms. And even if you don’t, I will still love you all the same,” Wilbur says as he opens the door to the training grounds. Tommy flinches at the loud noise of gunshots and covers his ear; Wilbur doesn’t.
“Do you promise?” Tommy yells.
Wilbur holds out his pinky finger to his little brother and nods. “Promise.”
His third meeting with Theseus is when he and some other top heroes infiltrate the Syndicate’s base. This time, he’s sure he will arrest the villains and earn back the respect everyone once had for him.
A part of him can’t help but feel like something was wrong though. The intelligence sector of his agency has been trying to track down the Syndicate for ages . Yet they’ve only received info about their base now. The timing just seems too perfect, especially with Theseus’ debut happening only half a year ago.
Thus, as the leader of this makeshift team of heroes, he tells them to go in groups of three’s and to be careful. Some take him seriously, others don’t. It really depends on who still respects him after hearing about how he got staged up by a newbie on the scene. Not his problem anymore though; it’s their lives on the line if they don’t listen to him.
He and his own team make their way through the many rooms of the hideout but don’t find anyone. Symphony thinks his gut is right with this opportunity being too good to be true. It’s likely that they found out someone leaked their information and escaped to another base. That’s at least what Symphony thinks, since he can’t find anything but empty storage crates and bedrooms.
They arrive at the final room on their assigned floor and open it only to immediately be attacked by swords. Strangely, only his teammates are hit, though nothing lethal, and he is left unscathed. This must be some sort of ploy to disgrace his reputation in front of his hero colleagues. Or worse, they could broadcast a fight between him and the Syndicate on national TV. He’s sure they have an amazing hacker and or strategist amongst their ranks who could accomplish this. Otherwise, how else could they succeed?
“Welcome, Symphony! We’ve been waiting for you!” Theseus’ familiar voice greets him.
“Well hello to you too, Theseus. I hope you’re in good shape so it isn’t unfair when I kick your ass.”
“Confident, are we?” Protesilaus comments, placing his sword back into its sheath.
“Never too confident, especially because it’s a two versus one,” Symphony replies, readying his gun. Theseus fixes his grip on the hilt of his sword.
“Nah, mate. Just Theseus will be fighting you,” a voice he’s never heard before says.
Symphony raises an eyebrow. “And who might you be?”
“Zephyrus. You may also know me as the Angel of Death,” he says. Symphony almost drops his gun.
The Angel of Death was the most feared villain back when he was still a kid. People told stories about their encounters with the malevolent being, and it was practically everything he ever heard about — kids his age would tell stories about him that they heard from their parents, and he would overhear heroes talking about how Zephyrus struck again.
But by the time he debuted as a hero, Zephyrus’ attacks had been less and less frequent, until he practically disappeared off the map when he nineteen. Ever since, people had forgotten about his existence despite the massive damage he caused to heroes and civilians alike.
Now, it’s all coming together. Zephyrus likely stopped because he was training Theseus. It all makes sense in his head, but he wonders how true it is in reality. There’s no time to worry about that though because he has to defeat Theseus in this final duel of theirs.
“Let’s make a deal,” Theseus says, bringing him out of his thoughts. “If I win, you retire as a hero. If you win, I’ll turn myself in. How does that sound?”
Symphony narrows his eyes and looks to Zephyrus and Protesilaus who don’t stop Theseus. These villains either don’t care about each other or are confident in each others’ skills; either way, it’s terrifying .
“Deal.” However, Symphony doubts Theseus will keep his promise when he loses. Still, there’s no harm in going along with his little agreement.
“Go on,” Protesilaus says. “Show him how you’ve grown.”
Wilbur stretches out his arms, ready to shoot. Theseus goes into a fighting stance, ready to strike.
A few short moments pass with nothing happening before Wilbur makes the first move and shoots. Not in Theseus’ direction, but to the ceiling. He makes a large hole through it and sends out three shots, alerting the heroes outside on standby for backup.
“Let’s make this quick,” Symphony says.
“Wouldn’t dream otherwise.”
Theseus launches himself forward and heads straight for Symphony’s neck. He is able to evade it but not completely as a shallow cut gushes blood out. In the moment of closeness, Symphony shoots Theseus’ shoulder, and the bullet lodges its way into his body. He yells out in gut-wrenching pain but continues slashing at Symphony. His movements are slowed by the injury, giving Symphony several opportunities to punch his face, strike his gut, and worst of all, make the largest injuries even worse. Theseus grits his teeth when Symphony stops to catch his breath.
“Why are you holding back?” Symphony exhales.
“Because I don’t need to go all out,” Theseus replies, wiping the blood off his mouth.
“You really think you can defeat me when you’re not giving it your all?”
“Of course.”
“How cocky”
“Want me to enlighten you then?”
“Go ahead. Please, do enlighten yours truly.”
Theseus smirks. “In order to stick to your pacifistic morals, your bullets are made of rubber and your attacks are always set to immobilize and not kill. And your powers? Oh, don’t get me started. You can only use them efficiently on people who you’ve never met because of subconscious vocal recognition. Plus, it tires you very easily.”
Symphony fears how he was right on the mark but doesn’t let it show on his face. “Thus we’ve met even before the shooting incident, I presume?”
“What a silly question from a silly little man,” Theseus mocks. “Do you really not recognize your sweet and innocent missing little brother?”
Theseus takes off his mask, and Wilbur is taken aback. This is his little brother, his Tommy. What happened to him? Why did he go down this path? How did this even happen?
“Tommy…?” And he hates how his voice cracks. He takes a step forward, but Theseus—no, Tommy —extends his sword in front of him as if telling him not to come any closer. So Wilbur chooses to instead ask him something:
“Why?”
“You’re asking me why I chose this path?”
“Yes! You were never like this before!” Wilbur exclaims, disbelieving that this is what his little brother has become — a murderer, a villain, and his enemy.
“You don’t even know me. In fact, you never knew me. You were always too busy with all your hero shit to even notice me.”
“I did it to protect us!! Without me, we wouldn’t have had a home or food on the table!!!”
“Well all I wanted was my brother, not fancy gifts and government-provided necessities!”
“And all I want is to be a brother, not a hero who has to put up a false bravado everyday!”
Wilbur steps forward again, the tip of the sword poking him.
“Wil, stop. Don’t come any closer,” Tommy warns. Wilbur doesn’t listen to him and takes another step closer; Tommy takes one back. This process continues until Tommy is backed up against a wall, sword now by his side. He wants to call Zephyrus and Protesilaus for help, but he also wants to see this through and show them all that he’s no longer the cowardly boy he once was.
Tommy falls backward, out of breath and sword knocked out of his hand. Protesilaus holds his own wooden sword to Tommy’s neck.
“Why are you so afraid to strike me?” Protesilaus asks as he helps Tommy up from the ground.
Zephyrus watches from the side and claps for both of them. “You did better this time, Theseus. But, like Protesilaus said, you mustn't hold back.”
“I know… It’s just hard to get into that mindset because my brother always taught me never to hurt people.”
“That’s understandable, but you have to keep in mind that people don’t always practice what they teach. Some people say never to hurt others, yet end up doing that themselves. It’s irony at its finest,” Protesilaus says.
“Just like how heroes say they’ll protect everyone but end up hurting people who go against them like us?”
“Exactly. They call people like us names like “villains” or refer to us as “evil people” when in reality, they mistreat people like you and your brother. They treat you like weapons, unlike us who treat you like family. We are the ones fighting for justice, just not in the “chivalric” way they do it. That’s why we need to prove ourselves to them in the only universal language: violence,” Zephyrus explains to a young, impressionable Tommy.
“So you need to become stronger for your brother.”
Tommy tilts his head, confused.
“By growing stronger, you’ll be able to save him from the grasp of the “heroes”. Then you two can live a happy life with each other, uninterrupted by other people.”
“I like the sound of that! Let’s get back to training again then!”
“Did I scare you?” Wilbur asks with sincerity, patting his hand on Tommy’s uninjured shoulder. He flinches out of his trance, and his older brother retracts his hand back. “I guess that answers my question.”
“Don’t touch me,” he snaps. “You don’t deserve me.”
“I know. But let me just savor my last moment with you. Then I’ll leave and retire and you’ll never have to see me again. You won, Tommy, and I’m so proud of you for surpassing me.”
“...Even though I’m a villain?”
Wilbur nods. “Even though you’re a villain,” he affirms. “Now go be the best villain the world’s ever seen.”
“Why are you supporting me?”
“Because you’re my brother, my sweet and innocent little brother,” he says, echoing the words Tommy had said earlier. The boy tears up, sobs threatening to overflow; why is he so emotional?
He slowly reaches out to Wilbur and wraps his arms around his brother’s torso. “I promise I’ll be the best damn villain and the best damn brother you could ever ask for, then.”
Wilbur’s eyes widen slightly, and he desperately hugs back, afraid to lose Tommy again. “That’s my boy. Now go, leave quickly. The heroes will be here soon.”
Tommy nods. “Thanks…Wilby.”
“No problem, Toms.” Wilbur smiles and watches as his little brother escapes with Zephyrus. Protesilaus stays behind and looks at him. They share a brief moment with movements that say more than words could.
“Take care of him for me.” Is all Wilbur says just in case Protesilaus doesn’t get the message he’s trying to communicate.
Protesilaus nods briefly and leaves; it’s all Wilbur could ever ask for. When they’re all gone, he moves a few things around to make it look like their fight was close. He stains the blood from his cuts on the floor and walls and places himself in a position that makes it look like he gave it his all.
The heroes arrive soon after to see Symphony out of breath and battered with bruises.
“Theseus got away again,” Symphony says, pretending to be breathless.
“We can see that. What happened this time?”
“He and Zephyrus and Protesilaus ambushed our group. We stood no chance, and I let my teammates get hurts…” he covers his eyes with his forearms and genuinely cries. They may not have been the best teammates, but they believed in him and trusted him. Yet, he let them get hurt. Mind filled with anxiety and brotherly instincts, he thinks of how he can use this moment of his own weakness to help Tommy. He is able to quickly come up with something believable.
“I don’t deserve to be a hero; I can’t be called a hero when I let this happen again.”
“What? What are you saying?”
“I’m saying I’m going to retire.”
Perfect execution of his impromptu narrative. Maybe he should go into theater after this is all over, then.
Good luck, Tommy. I know you can do it — show the world, the one that was so cruel to us, what you’re made of.