Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Uncomfortable, quiet, and wet.

Yeah. That’s a good way to start this story.

-“Aghr”-

The room was dark, cold as it was near sunset, and leaky, ceiling dripping with the remains of a previous rainstorm from the night prior, but at least the spot he was set on was dry.

‘How romantic.’

-“Grr- Ah-”

The only light that leaked into the area came from holes and cracks in the ceilings and walls, and the rest of the surrounding structure was breaking and was covered with mold, fallen debris and overgrown plants showing the buildings age.

“Agh! F- 젠장!”-

“Struggling won’t do you any good, پیاری. You should know that by now.”

From where the hero lay on his knees, legs wrapped firmly, and arms tied behind his back, tight to his torso, he could hear the familiar clicking of his heels coming from the shadows in the corridors on top, where some of the remaining halls of the old structure still stood strong.

“Or,” the clicking stopped, “do you simply enjoy giving me a show?”

The hero huffed, forehead almost touching the ground with how low he was bending, long hair dragging against the dirty floor as he strained against the restraints. “You’d like that wouldn’t you.” He mocked under his breath the villain hidden in the darkness, never one to turn down classic banter. He didn’t even flinch when presumably the villain jumped from the second level down right in front of him, only clicking his teeth when the sight of familiar black boots stopped right near his face. The tip of one of them moving up and forward, going under his chin and forcing him to look up and the looming figure. “I’m sorry, پیار, did you say something?”

Funny how the soft look and pathetic eyes didn’t match the rough treatment.

“Hm? Ambrosius~.”

The man in question simply shot the other an unimpressed look as his head was lifted higher to meet the villain’s gaze.

“Blackheart.” Ambrosius addressed curtly. “It’s been some time since you’ve played your little games.” The hero emphasized to show his annoyance. “I thought you’d finally matured to something more of your… ‘menacing’ title.”

“Ha! ‘Little games’.” Ambrosius’ head was dropped as Blackheart strode around, circling him like a vulture, stopping to stand somewhere out of his line of sight, not like he could see much before anyway. “Don’t act like you don’t enjoy them yourself.”

Ambrosius pretended to think for a second, humming thoughtfully before shrugging to the best of his abilities, shooting back with his most ‘casual’ tone: “Eh, I’ve played better, with better.”

He hissed in sudden pain as a knee pushed into the center of his back, forcing him to the ground completely, and a gloved hand gripped hard into golden hair, almost to the roots, and pulled his head back- “Not like with me you haven’t.” A voice so dangerously low and sharp whispered close to his face, Blackheart’s hot breath tickling the shell of his ear and side of his neck. Ambrosius could practically feel him smiling next to him. The hero grunted and fought once more against the ropes as the knee on his back pressed him further down. A retort, probably one that was going to end up being a terrible idea, almost fell out of his mouth when he heard a sudden, quiet beeping coming from his wrist.

Shit.

He was running out of time.

Ambrosius, needing a quick escape and thinking of his next step, noticed something glinting in his peripheral vision and realized immediately what it was.

.... Got it.

Ambrosius took a deep breath and turned his head, with as little control as he had of it at the moment, forward and stopped struggling completely, letting his whole body be pressed down by the other man, including his face, and basically going completely limp and allowing Blackheart to slip closer to him. “What’s this?” Blackheart asked with mock surprise. “Finally submitting, are we? Are you ready to obey me now, پیارے?”

The hero huffed once more and turned enough to face the older man, throwing him a grin over his shoulder where his hair didn’t obstruct his face anymore. “당신에게 복종하는 것은 나의 죽음 일 것입니다.”

He whispered back, his voice breathless with gasps and groans with how firm the grip on his hair still was, but the hero felt the moment his villain’s knees went weak, and smirked.

In the time it took for him to swipe the knife from Blackheart’s hip strap and have the man on his ass in front of him he managed to free himself from the ropes with such ease it was almost like magic. The villain didn’t even have time to process what had just happened before Ambrosius was standing before him a few feet away.

“You seem to be losing your edge, 사랑,” Ambrosius whipped is long golden locks behind his shoulder and placed a hand on his hip as his other one spun the knife in the air, “that was almost too easy.”

This is usually the part where the villain is supposed to snark. Where they stand up from where they were taken to the ground and grin, with sharp teeth and even darker eyes. Where both hero and villain, good and bad, dark and light, stand against each other, ready to maim and fight until only one is left standing, or they both leave limping, heading to their respective sides to lick their wounds and plan their next strategy and attack.

.... That doesn't happen.

It never happens with Blackheart.

Instead, the man in question simply smiles playfully before he got up. No mirth, no bite, just a soft little smile as he dusts himself off and began to clap his hands in a less then sarcastic applause. “Well done, پیار, look at you, escaping my grasps without even any help.” He dusted off his arms and pretended to fic his outfit and scarf. “آپ اس میں بہتر ہو رہے ہیں۔. Who taught you that one?”

Ignoring how genuine the complement sounded, and how the last question seemed almost as digging, Ambrosius stopped spinning the knife in his hand and shot the villain a glare. “Or maybe you’re just getting worse? You and your silly games.” That earned him a scoff, though not as offended or cruel as it should have been.

Ambrosius gasped as the knife suddenly flew out of his hand and the air around him froze.

Literally.

The temperature in the room seemed to suddenly drop to the point where Ambrosius could see the fog of breath in front of his face as he breathed.

Now Blackheart stood in the center of the space surrounding them, the cold seeming to be seeping from his general area. He played with the knife in his robotic arm as his grin grew into something a little more facetious.

“You always did prefer our games to be more dangerous.”

He stops to throw the knife into the air, catching it by the hilt in his flesh hand in one swift movement. With one flick of his wrist the short point of the knife began to change and grow into a long, black obsidian blade. Dangerously sharp and beautiful, smartly made like the man it belonged to.

Blackheart laughed as he spun the now sword in his hand, stance falling naturally to one of being on guard.

“C’mon then پیارے, pull out your own! This was always your favourite part!”

A pained expression passed over Ambrosius' face for less than a second at the familiar request, and though he hoped Blackheart didn’t notice, the way his shoulders sagged a bit told him otherwise. The hero shook his head at the behest, suddenly feeling tired and very done with this, and pulled from his back a shield of golden wings that began to glow and open in his hands. “You know I don’t use those anymore.” Blackheart’s smile dropped as Ambrosius got into his own stance, his pose becoming tense as the two faced each other.

“Of course, how could I possibly forget.”

The hero and villain stared each other down, the energy in the space buzzing and time appeared to stop around them as an electrical hum felt like a rubber band in the air, just waiting for one of them to pull hard enough to make it snap.

But again, that didn’t happen.

Instead Ambrosius dropped his stance and stood back to his full length much to the confusion of Blackheart. Releasing a deep sigh, the hero returned his shield onto his back and looked once again towards the villain, who was now awkwardly standing at a ready, but was now hesitantly lowering his sword. “... You need to leave.”

“Excuse me?” Blackheart demanded, voice laced with offense as he took a menacing step forward.

All this drama and showmanship for it to end like this? Ambrosius would be disappointed too.

“You need to leave. Now.”

“What are you-” before Blackheart could finish they both heard the sound of sirens coming from somewhere afar. The recognizable lights and sounds of the Heroes Institute blared from where they were approaching.

Blackheart returned Ambrosius’ deep sigh and stood straight himself, putting the- now once again- knife into his strap and smiled at his nemesis. “I suppose we’ll have to reschedule this again, hm? Say, Friday at my place? I'll have my sidekick give you a lift.”

Ambrosius rolled his eyes as he turned away to grab the length of his hair and tie it back without a hairband, not bothering to answer him. He could feel Blackheart’s stare still on him even as he checked his arm brace and stopped the soft beeping that came from an alert.

It was quiet between them for a moment.

“... Amber-”

Once more Ambrosius sighed, feeling oh so tired. “You need to go, Ballister, they’ll be on top of us at any second-”

When Ambrosius turned back to him, he was gone.

It’s hard to explain how the absence of cold feels like, it’s not like people lament about the comfort of ice.

Then again, Ambrosius never really cared for the heat.

Not even a moment later the quiet room was filled with loud noises, shouts and voices coming from different entrances, and blinding light coming from all around him. He shut it all out as he began to make his way through the crowd of different officers and heroes. Some of them stopped him to ask some questions about what occurred there but he gave them all the same answer.

“There was no one and nothing of suspicion when I got here, and after surveying the area, I found that there is nothing of interest to us at the Institute.”

He managed to finally get out of the old building and noticed that it was already dark out, the sun having set a long while ago.

He turned to walk away from the area completely when, as he was already a good ways away, an annoying noise stopped him in his tracks.

“Yo! Goldenloin!”

Groaning silently, Ambrosius shot a look up before beginning his track in the other direction. Acknowledging the sound of someone running towards him, but he wasn’t planning on stopping at all.

“Dude, wait up!”

“What do you want Todd.”

“Dude, bro- Ambrosius hold up- the- the Director wants-”

He came to a sudden halt and felt when Todd almost crashed into him.

He did not want to deal with this today, but if he ignored it now, he’d never hear the end of it. He turned around to look at Todd gripping his knees and gasping for air. After enjoying the other man struggling to breath for a second, Ambrosius reluctantly told him to put her on.

Not lifting from where he was bent down, Todd lifted the arm with his armbrace up and a holographic projection shot up between the two.

“Madam Director.” The two heroes greeted, one very dry and the other barely getting the words out.

If she was bothered by this it didn’t show.

“Good evening to you, Hero of the city Thoddeus Sureblade, and to you Hero of the city, defender of our people, the last born descendant of The Great Gloreth herself, and holder of the Goldenloin Fortune, sir Ambrosius Goldenloin.”

Ambrosius held back from the want to roll his eyes at the long, unnecessary title- really, a good evening is just fine- and gave a quick, polite bow to his superior. “To what do I owe the honor of your call this evening, Madam Director? And might I also ask as well, why you inquired the assistance of Sureblade and did not simply contact my own bracer personally?”

The Director of the Heroes Institute gave him a look he knew all too well at this point as she chose to bypass his second query and stare down at something on her tablet.

“It appears, sir Goldenloin, that though I requested a report of what occurred this night in the abandoned producer factory, none of my agents can give me even a hypothetical answer of what might have happened here.” She gave him a blasé side-glance as she swiped at the reports turned in of that evening. “That’s a lot of eyes doing nothing, don’t you agree, sir Goldenloin?”

“I suppose it is Madam.”

“With that in mind, I had wished to ask you- the first one on the seen as is the most frequent statement in the reports I did manage to receive- what transpired here this night, as all you have stated to many of my agents is that 'there was nothing and no one' when you arrived, or when you inspected the area,” another look sent his way, “however, my attempts to contact you were for not, as it would appear that when I did, your bracer did not pick up. Odd, isn’t it?”

Ambrosius didn’t really meet her eyes, just staring around in her general direction to avoid making contact. “It is.”

An uncomfortable silence settled between the two, almost like they were staring each other down as Todd awkwardly stood there holding his arm with his bracer out where the Director was being projected.

“… Well, is there something wrong with your bracer, sir Goldenloin?”

Ambrosius shrugged and answered, “I guess it’s possible.”

The Director was starting to look more frustrated with his short answers, though only one of her brows twitched. “And could you possibly know what that is?”

“I’m not sure myself, Madam.” Ambrosius feigned ignorance and once again turned on his heel and began to walk away. “Maybe the sound was low? I’ll get it checked back at the Institute when I return.”

“Sir Goldenloin, we’re not done here.” The Director called behind him.

“Yes, we are.”

Looks like Todd wasn’t too keen on following him again.

Good.

“Sir Goldenloin.”

“I’ll see to it that the matter is taken care of when I return. Have a good evening, Madam Director.”

He left them with that and kept a good pace until he was sure that that building, Sureblade, and the Director was far behind him.

It was dark now, and the scene had occurred on the not so good side of town, but that didn’t bother Ambrosius much. It’s not like anything could really harm him. The only thing he was really worried about was people recognizing him. If that were to happen, then he was definitely not going to make it back to the Institute tonight.

As he walked played with his bracer for a second, ignoring the 10% Volume sign shining on the right top corner and the new set of messages being sent in by his team, and the Director, and after a second his golden suit of armor turned into more casual black leather pants and a plain grey beige shirt. With a little more adjusting, he also acquired a black leather jacket.

He didn’t need it, not for the warmth at least, but pulled it against himself anyway. He actually really hated jackets, but they were a strange comfort from his youth that he couldn’t quite seem to shake.

When he reached the more crowded part of town, he pulled out a cigarette from one of his pockets, pinching the front tip where a lighter would go, and placing the filter to his lips when it lit up like normal.

This was all part of a disguise he had conjured up a long time ago, even the cigarette (he likes to tell himself). No one would ever imagine that a Hero of the City smokes, so, no one ever suspects him of being one.

Full proof.

He inhaled the fumes from the bud, and after a few seconds of making sure no one was looking, blew a cloud of what normally would have been dark or grey smoke, but instead was a sort of pyrocumulonimbus of what closely resembled golden dust flecks.

He continued doing this as he made his way back to the Institute.

When he saw the familiar structure come up, he crushed his bud into his hand and threw it in a nearby bin, and when he was sure he was out of the public eye, clicked something on his bracer. Now back in his suit Ambrosius walked into the building, giving the night janitors, and whoever else was still working at that time- or just starting their shifts- a polite greeting and headed towards the elevator going up towards the dorms. He took a deep, calming breath as he stared out of the pristine crisp clear glass of the elevator, mentally preparing himself for the shit storm he was sure was heading his way the moment the doors dinged opened.

As he thought this, the dreaded ding of the elevator doors sounded, and he faced the opening gate.

To his surprise, no one was there waiting for him, no immediate scolding, questioning, or lame taunting about how much trouble he was in. He cautiously peaked his head out of the doorway, looking down each hall, and noticing only a few people talking or walking by, and none seemed to notice him.
A little bizarre, but hey, he’s learned not to stare a gift horse in its mouth.

But just as he thought he might be able to get to his room in peace, it proved to be more of a prank than a gift. “Sir Goldenloin!”

The few people who were in the different hallways stopped what they were doing to look in his direction.

Ambrosius resisted the want to drag a hand down his face as he sighed for what felt like the 100th time that day.

The next hour was going to be a long one.

-

On the other side of town, in an extravagant lab hidden away by a building that, on the face of it, came off as dingy and broken down- the black stone ground of the entryway cracked, and the floor shook a bit as from the stone ground rose a figure from the earth, parting for the villain like the river did for Moses. The moment he stepped out it was like the floor was never disturbed, and no cracks or breaks to be found.

The figure strode elegantly to the center of the lab, the clicking of his boots resounding in the room and bouncing off the walls. He stopped when he reached the center, not moving at first, but then inhaled deeply…

And then screamed a laugh so loud it scared the cat sleeping on one of the top pipes, causing them to fall.

Ballister walked with a skip in his step further into the labs, humming while he took his cape off and setting it aside to catch the falling, now very disgruntled, cat.

“ہیلو, Nim.”

“Dr. Blitzmeyer? Are you in? I just had a wonderful night and I would love to analyze it with you!”

The cat in his arms rolled their eyes at him and jumped down, licking at their paw before hissing at him and running off.

“Oh, come now Nimona, don’t be like that.”

He walked to his desk and dropped into his swivel chair, spinning around and calling out for his partner in science. “Meredith?! I know you’re here! I saw the keys for the Ogun next to the douloureux ray!”

“I heard you the first time, Gregor!”

A modulated voice sounded from above, and Ballister looked up to see his fellow mad scientist, Dr. Meredith Blitzmeyer, hanging upside down by straps and chains. Tools littered her specialized belt- specifically created to prevent them from falling out- and she placed the one that was previously being used to be able to lower herself down from the contraption she had been working on for months now.

“Dia duit.” She greeted.

“And to you as well Dr. Still working on the SSC, I see.”

She successfully landed on her two feet safely on the floor and removed the harness.

“I swear I am this close to figuring out what energy component is missing to give it the power it needs to function correctly,” rare frustration leaked into her accented voice as she turned to face her creation, “instead of making the damn thing break down. Every. Damn. Time.” She accentuated the last words with three hard kicks to the metal of the base. "Not to mention the 'project' hasn't been going as we hoped."

She fixed her glasses at him, almost assessing. "آپ نے آج رات معمول سے زیادہ وقت لیا۔. Did you manage to get the parts?"

Ballister smirked and slipped something out of his belt pocket. It was a small, glowing orb, but the energy it radiated was big and only he with his abilities was able to hold it in his hand. "یقیناً میں نے کیا۔. Who knew that other villains like to hide their radioactive-energy distributers in an abandoned crisps factory," he threw the orb around a little bit before handing it to Dr. Blitzmeyer, who took it with long tweezers. "You, you did of course."

"The Photovoltaic Energy Orb. Good," the Dr. sighed, "at least something is going right."

“Hm, seems like it’s been a long night for you too Blitz. C’mon over here, join me for a drink and listen to my tales of this evening.”

She grumbled something under her breath and threw herself into another chair and dragged it towards where he was sitting and grabbed the cold bottle of lemon malt murree. She popped the cap open with her screwdriver and took 3 big gulps.

“Alright, Gregor, tell me about your adventures with your man.”

Ballister sighed happily and leaned back against his chair, making room on his lap for the cat who came running back for a nap and took his own swig of murree.

“Alright, so get this.”

-

A whooshing noise sounded as a door to a room moved to open and Ambrosius stepped in.

He stared for a second straight ahead into the dark room, before stumbling in and landing on his bed. He didn’t even bother taking his suit off, let alone his bracer.

She, The Director, had kept him in her office for. Two. Hours. Scolding him and giving him another history lesson about the city, the Heroes Institute, his family, and it took everything in him to not walk out or tell her what he really thought about all that history.

Whatever.

He didn’t want to turn around to look at his clock, because he knew he had to wake up at 4:30 AM again tomorrow and he just didn’t want to acknowledge that right now. So instead, he laid on his front, and closed his eyes, hoping that tonight wasn’t another night where he had to fight against his own body for sleep.

After a few minutes, about 5, he heard his door whoosh open again, and light peaked in from the door, framing a shadowy figure that was standing at the doorway. The next moment the door closed again, and the room was once more draped in darkness and silence.

He didn’t hear anything. No footsteps, no breathing, nothing. Still though he didn’t move, he just kept his eyes shut and did his best to ignore whatever that was.

Suddenly he felt something on the side of his bed.

Still, he didn’t move.

Then whatever it was crawled onto his bed- the mattress dipping-, crossed over his torso, and fell into the space between where he was curled up and the wall, scrambling like a raccoon to right itself.

Ambrosius cracked an eye open and looked up, seeing only pitch-black darkness, and two glowing red eyes staring back from it. He didn’t scream, didn’t jump back, nothing that a normal person would do. He just slowly pulled one of his hands back, keeping eye contact with the demon on his bed, and then lightly smacked it directly in its face, sputtering chirps and an offended yell telling him he had hit his target straight on.

He snapped his fingers on his other hand and the room was illuminated in soft orange light, revealing the intruder and disturber of his sleep, who still had his hand on their face as she tried to yank it off. “You know,” he said casually, like this wasn’t the first time, “if you didn’t want a hand in your face, you shouldn’t have let your guard down so easily.”

Tani, a good friend of many years dressed in bird printed PJs, simply knocked his hand away and shot him a nasty glare.

She was a short woman, about 5”4 feet of whoop-ass, with long messy black hair that spiked like porcupine, bronze-tan- almost gold brown- skin, and crimson-brown eyes that always seemed to glow red when she was upset.

Like now.

“Rosius.”

“Yes?”

In the blink of an eye he was on his back, staring up and his usually very emotionless friend who held him down by his shoulders. “Where the fuck were you?!” She shook him. “¡¿Sabes lo cerca que estuve de volar fuera de aquí para buscarte?! ¡¿Por qué dan coño estás en casa tan tarde?! Ya know what you don’ even gotta tell me ya know why-? BECAUSE EVERYONE’S ALREADY TALKIN’ ABOUT IT!”

He didn’t know what to say. He knows he’s been worrying her for a while now- heck, even his mother said that he’s been acting... funny lately. But he doesn’t know how to explain to them that... that he doesn’t even know what’s going on.

“Ya know I’m always cool with ya doin’ reckless dumb shit, hell tell me what we’re burnin' down honey, and I got your back, but... but you kinda just... left. Without tellin' anyone... without tellin' me...”

She backed away to him, sitting back on her previous spot with her legs crossed and looking at him with a worry she barely showed to others.

“Rosius... wha’s goin' on?”

“... I’m sorry.”

She huffed and playfully kicked him where he laid and crawled to the edge once again. “Bah, don’ say sorry for somethin' tha’s probably gonna happen again. But you’ve kinda been worryin’ your Ma...”

“Just Mom?”

“Shut it. Just... tell me wha’s been goin’ on with ya hun.”

“... ”

Ambrosius stared up at his ceiling and took some time to really think about it.
Something he seemed to be doing more and more these days.

“... It’s been a really long week... A really long month... A really long year...”

A really long life.

Tani just stared at him.

Not with pity. Never pity.

She just stared.

The stare that would make anyone else squirm. The stare with wide sharp eyes like she was studying them, opening anyone under those sharp-bird eyes like an easy book, highlighting everything she thinks might be important and making summaries.

She gave one firm nod when she found what she was looking for and proceeded to kick Ambrosius off of his bed.

He didn’t even bother getting up, just letting out a muffled ‘whyyyyy’ as she jumped onto the ground beside him and helped him up. “Get up ya bum and go freshen yaself up. We’e havin' a self-care night!”

He sighed as she shoved his towel and washcloth into his arms and pushed him into towards his bathroom.

“Tan-”

“Nope.”

He was unceremoniously shoved through the bathroom door, which then closed and locked automatically.

He just stood there near the door for a minute.

Gods he was getting really tired of sighing.

He walked towards the vanity and placed his things down, taking of his brace and turning his suit’s activation off and went to rummage through his cabinet until he caught his own reflection in the mirror and paused.

He knew he shouldn't have, but looking at yourself is what a mirror's for, right? So he looked.
Looked down from his long, almost past his mid-thigh, unnaturally gold-blond hair, to his all to-pale face, to the almost glowing golden eyes and his crooked roman nose. He knew he should have stopped there- his breathing was picking up slowly but surely- better to just walk away now before he spirals and goes to a place he did not have the energy to be in.

Not tonight.

But he couldn’t help it.

Couldn't help but nitpick, and judge, and call out every line and wrinkle. Every little nook and cranny.

All the little stupid imperfection.

The scars, the ones underneath his pecs, on a good day, would be such a beautiful sight to him. A reminder of how far he’d come, and how the people who he loves, whom love him in turn, support and accept him for all that he was and is.

Right now though? He can’t help but stare at the slight jaggedness of them, how if people were to see it they’d know, just know, but most of all- something personal to him as far as he knows- the color of it will always put him off. It reminded him of what happened, of what he was now because of them, of what they did to make him who he is.

Scars aren’t supposed to be gold.

He slammed the cabinet open and grabbed whatever the hell he needed and headed towards the tub, not bothering to close it.

He'll take out that mirror in the morning.

He spent at least half an hour under the cold spray of the shower head, scrubbing till his skin felt raw and turning the nob every few minutes to the coldest setting, going up higher and higher past freezing until knocking at the door snapped him out… of wherever he was.

“¿Rosius? ¿Estás bien ahí? Parece que realmente te estás tomando tu tiempo.”

“Yeah! Yes- I’m... 잠깐만요!”

“Aight, alright, cool ya jets.”

A minute later he stepped out of the bathroom, dressed in his favorite robe and hair still dripping wet. He looked up to find Tani, now in her bird onesie he got one Christmas and hair in a towel, sitting on his bed with her tablet, which had the paused episode of a show they’d been binging, snacks, a skin care pack, a small bucket, a bottle of what’s most likely warm water and baking soda.

She patted at the spot in front of her rapidly, signaling for him to sit.

He smiled for what felt like the first time that night.

If he ever told anyone about this they’d never believe him.

He slowly sat down when he got to the bed, his back to his sister-in-arms, and turned to look at her questioningly when she started laughing. “What?”

She pointed to his hair which was a tangled mess from the night he had.

“Brother how do you even do this to yaself? It looks like someone was yankin’ ya around by it all night.”

He didn’t bother answering her as he groaned at the bitch of a time it was going to be fixing it up. “Can you just handle it please?”

“Yeah, yeah, no te preocupes por eso, hermano, I got it.”

He sat back and closed his eyes as he felt her begin untangling his hair.

It didn’t have the normal texture of hair, though it was smooth and silky, and most of the time easy to brush. Unless, of course, it was like it is now.

Like thin gold chains you left in your jewelry box for too long.

Tani began meticulously pulling each strand out of each other, carefully tugging at with her fingers, and eventually claws, and draw his hair back to something more flowy.

When she was done, he heard her mix the water and baking soda, then she gently tipped his head back till he was sure his head was right above the bucket and pored the warm water on it and cringed at the feeling- “I know, I know.”

Tranquility fell over them as she worked, their favorite series playing on the tablet, acting as a familiar background.

“... 무슨 일이 있었는지 얘기할래요?”

“... 아니요.”

“... 괜찮다.”

.

.

.

“Why an abandoned producer factory by the way?”

“... They used to make my favorite nachos.”

Chapter Text

“Everything seems to be going well. All systems have been working properly, and no one seems to suspect anything yet...

An eye should be kept on Torrensa, however.

Not quite a threat, not really, but she seems to be digging her nose into things she does not understand.”

-

Ballister woke up with a sharp gasp.

His heart was beating like it was trying to burst out of his chest.

His right shoulder down to his stump burned, thrumming in time with his heart, and hurting from a dream, a memory of something from long ago.

It wasn’t much this time, just painful flashes of green, and the stinging burn of power and burning heat, followed by his name in a voice- always the same voice- yelling for him, screaming at him ‘I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry’.

It’s not one of his favorite dreams to visit, especially not during the night, but he supposes that it can’t be helped.

It is only a memory after all.

A memory that’s been visiting him these nights, more frequently lately...

Hm.

He sat up, slowly, groaning with effort and slight pain.

He rubbed at his stump, trying his best to transfer some form of warmth but hissed when it was met with only ice-cold fingers and sighed.

“I suppose that’s what I get for forgetting that tid-bit,” he muttered to himself as he carefully got out of bed with a puff and walking over to his drawers and cabinets, passing by where his prosthetic arm was hung up, charging on the wall, “I’m basically a walking glacier.”

He checked the clock on his drawer as he grabbed his opioids and antidepressants, swallowing down each pill before grabbing a sugarless hard candy and walking into his bathroom. He turned on the shower head and waited for the heat to raise to room temperature, the only highest controlled temperature he can take when he wakes up like this.

Everything else would be scolding.

Not that he really minded. Sometimes he likes the feeling of hot water on his skin.

Sue him for chasing the heat.

It always did seem so attractive to him, one who only ever ran so cold.

Like a freezing moth to a comfortingly hot flame.

He leaned against the vanity of his bathroom with his one hand and stared into the mirror. He glanced at the bags under his eyes, which were practically a part of his character design at this point, and sighed. A good portion of sleepless nights and drinking with Dr. Blitzmeyer until the crack of dawn probably isn’t helping either, but honestly, what is there to be done now?

Before he could continue scoping himself out, feeling himself about to fall into a spiral, he noticed something that he’d missed last night.

Flecks of gold covered the side of his face, a little bit of it was stuck in his hair near his ear. He paused at the sight and stood up straight, slowly reaching up for it, afraid to take any of it off, and smiled gently at the dust that did cover his fingers. The feeling they brought him was... conflicting to say the least.

On one hand it gave him a sense of warmth, not literally of course (though he desperately wished they did), reminding him of the evening prior and the short but memorable hours he got to spend with his hero.

On the other hand, it brought him a bit of concern.

‘ وہ دوبارہ سگریٹ نوشی کر رہا ہے۔.’

He frowned a bit and rubbed the fallen dust between his fingers.

He’d have to look into that.

After finishing in the bathroom, taking his time under the warm shower, he walked back into his room and sat on his bed, turning on the small radio next to his bed. He grabbed a tube from the side of his bed- special ointment made specifically to help his pain with his power type- and began rubbing it into and around his stump.

“-en nu het nieuws van vanochtend van ‘Regels van het Koninkrijk’. De protesten van gewone burgers voor het parlement van Gloreth. De woede gaat verder over de arrestatie eerder dit jaar van een groep gewone burgers, die kunstmatige krachten bleken te gebruiken, door de bewakers van het ‘Heldeninstituut’-.”

After getting everything ready, and putting on his arm, checking that each wire and mechanic was working as was designed as he does every day in case something went wrong during a fight, and dressing up in his usual ‘villainy’ attire, he began to dig into every one of his drawers until he finally found the most crucial part of his signature look.

“Aha! تم وہاں ہو، خوبصورت۔.”

Out from under one of his “sneaking” cloaks he pulled out a long, gorgeous red scarf. It was made from the warmest, softest wool he had ever yet to feel in his entire life, even after all these years. It kept him warm like nothing else and reminded him of promises made in a moment of pure genuine, innocent compassion, something he had never even thought truly existed till that moment.

He couldn’t believe he forgot to wear it yesterday!

That message from his dealer about the Radioactive-Photovoltaic energy core being dropped off at the old producer factory just sent him into such a frenzy he left in a hurry.

Shame on him, he thought in a playful scold as he placed a kiss on the scarf and happily wrapped it around his shoulders.

He swung the door to his room open and took a few steps forward before jumping onto the railing of the staircase leading down, quickly passing by the living area- more specifically the kitchen- and snatching the cup of coffee that Nimona- his beloved sidekick and sort of also his kid but won’t admit it- had held out for him with a happy “صبح بخیر, Nimona”. He sipped the hot beverage carefully as he made his to the labs. “Dr.! کیا آپ اوپر ہیں؟ ہمارے پاس بحث کرنے کے لیے بہت کچھ ہے!”

“I’m sure we do, Gregor!” Once again, he looks up to find his friend hanging upside down on her harness, working on their newest ‘Top Secret’ project, slowly ascending down, and meeting him on the ground. Her white hair, even with how much she’d probably been twirling up there, was still neat in a ponytail and doesn’t look nearly like they crazy scientists she advertises on her villainous web page. “But it’s not happening today.” She unbuckled herself and walked towards her respective station. “Bonjour à vous aussi, d'ailleurs.”

“What do you mean? Why not?” He asked, a little miffed by this as they had already planned to speak about how to implement the energy core into their latest project.

She removed her goggles and turned around to look at him, leaning back against her desk, as her heterochromatic eyes- One a dark chocolate brown while the other, which once was also brown, now almost glowed a neon green after an experiment many would call reckless while he calls it innovative- studied him while she gave him what would be considered a pessimistic expression if not for the upturn of her lips...

That was never a good look.

“What?”

“Well,” she started, turning to look at some documents on her desk, “it would seem that we’re still missing some key components to really get this thing moving, also, it turns out that some of the parts your dealer sent us- you know, the ones we need to stabilize the core- were apparently faulty.”

“Another setback. Great.” Ballister growled, making a mental note to pay his dealer a visit with Nimona later, allow them a chance to remember who they're working with. “And,” the Dr. went on, “on top of that, our funds for this month seem to be... low.” She sent him a look over her shoulder. “آپ جانتے ہیں کہ اس کا کیا مطلب ہے۔.”

Slowly a smile creeped onto his face before he felt Nimona jump onto his shoulder with a shark type grin themselves yelling loudly in his ear. “Oh heck yeah! Heist baby!” They both cheered as Dr. Blitzmeyer fell into her swivel chair and spun her way to her motherboard, clicking down fast as hologram after hologram began popping up all around them, pictures and news articles, videos and footage, reports and police statements, all of them showing Ballister and Nimona’s faces, either fighting off a hoard of heroes and guards, or escaping multiple banks surrounded by hundreds of officers and extra muscle.

Like any of them were ever a match for them.

“Seems like the most likely one to hit this time would have to be Gloreth’s Tower Bank near the North-West side of the city, but I’d make a diversion if I were you.”

Him and Nimona turned to each other and smiled. “Way ahead of you.”

“It’ll be dangerous.” The Dr. said, twisting around in her chair. “You already had all the cops hot on your tails last time, wouldn’t be surprised if the Institute is just waiting at their desks like sweaty fans on Tweeter just waiting for you to mess up.”

“Oh Dr., please,” he said, tightening his scarf and throwing the longer end over his shoulder as he sent Nimona to get geared up, looking on with fond amusement as he noticed her grabbing her spiked brass knuckles.

“They should know better than to threaten me with a good time.”

-

Helicopters and News Reporters surrounded a building in the center of the city as they were alerted to a commotion happening at the City Office a long with many of the heroes who waited on their hoverbikes on the outside of the building. Citizens looked up at the now smoking building and cried in terror as something jumped out of a window.

Nimona laughed maniacally as they burst out of the top of the City Office, swinging from flagpole to flagpole as a gorilla, and knocking down some hover bikes that got in their way before free falling from the very tipy top.

“It’s heading our way- movemoveMOVE!”

In a swirl of light Nimona was suddenly a human, pulling up with their grand dragon-like wings, as normal humans do, nearly avoiding all of the officers and heroes on the ground.

Doesn’t mean they didn’t knock some heads over.

“Don’t let it get away! Go-go-go!”

Hysterically they flapped their wings as hard as they could and launched up into the sky, spinning as blowing out fire from their mouth to create a glorious tornado of flames and chaos, causing anyone who thought they were even remotely brave enough to pursue the shifter to immediately step back in fear of getting burned. Nimona even heard this woman-like scream they’ve grown very accustomed to at this point.

It’s one of their favorite parts.

As Nimona was taking care of their part of the mission, they didn’t notice they were being watched by another on an opposite building top. Not that it would have bothered them enough to stop really, they were having the time of their lives with this.

“How is it that half of some of our best heroes in a whole fleet are being outwitted by the likes of one singular, villainous, little monster!”

Oh. Now there’s a grating voice anyone would recognize.

Nimona was quick to locate the fool with the brace currently on call with Ms. Bitchieness herself and tackled them to the floor, holding up the arm of the now unconscious hero they were currently sitting on. A risky move on their part, they’ll admit. “If this is some of your best, then taking your pReCiOuS Institute down is gonna be easier than we thought.”

The reaction they got from The Director was totally worth the risk though.

“You.”

“Me.”

Nimona looked up at the sound of metal and claws heading her way.

“Oop- Ttyl, gotta handle your goons.”

“You won’t be getting away with this-”

Nimona smirked at the usual line as she held up the bracer to her face, no doubt getting a good few of the guards coming their way in the shot. “You know, you should turn that into a bumper sticker, maybe stick it on your own ass for anyone to see when they try to kiss it.” They ignored the offended gasp, ripping off the bracer from the limp arm, and throwing it at the approaching crowd, making a quick escape.

So, the madness continues.

-

“... So, we both agree this is suspicious, right?”

“Of course it is, this isn’t our first rodeo with them.”

Tani stood on the edge of a rooftop with one foot on the ledge, staring down to where the ‘fight’ was taking place.

‘If you could even call it that.’

With a finger to her earpiece, she spoke to her parter on the other side.

“Whatcha think this is? A political attack? A public protest- ?”

“A distraction.”

Tani looked out towards the city, getting a perfect view of all the residing buildings, including the central bank, that just seemed to have decided at this moment to spontaneously combust.

Típico.

“Yup, that tracks. Ya wan’ me to get ‘im this time? Give yaself a lil’ break n’ all that?”

“... No, no... I got this one.”

Tani stared out blankly in the direction of the central bank, seeing how other patrols were already pulling out and heading that way. He wanted to ask his partner if he was sure, tell him that they could absolutely handle this one on her own.

The part of her that wanted to fight him on this told them to tell him just that.

... Hesitantly, she tucked her wings back into her tattoo.

“... Aight, you do you beau. Just be careful and don’ get into too much shit, ya got that Geumsaeg?”

“Always Sparrow, over and out.”

She sighed and watched as a yellow fleck in the distance made its way towards the bank until it was gone behind the towering buildings of the city. They sat down on the edge of the roof after a while, staring down at the mess that was their Institute. It was funny watching some of them get thrown around like rag dolls, or chewed on by a pink otter. That part especially was hilarious. “ Cónchale , esto se está volviendo vergonzoso.”

Before the shark could bite someone’s head off Tani noticed them suddenly perk up and turn to the direction of the bank.

Tani spotted then how they seemed to be retreating, but grinned sharply as a pink flick of light quickly made their way towards the central, immediately followed by the troops and heroes who were still up and able to fight.

Looks like the party’s moving.

“여기 우리가 간다.”

-

Ballister laughed as he jumped out of the hole now made at the top main roof of Gloreth’s Tower Bank and slid down the rope of his grappling hook like he was ascending from the heavens.

Oh, he does so love a good heist!

The adrenaline, the wind in his face, the sirens and angry shouts of heroes chasing at his back and running for their lives.

He absolutely adored it!

As he slowly slid down the rope, he brought his communicator to close enough range and spoke: “Shark Attack? Shark Attack? Come in Shark Attack, are you there? I need a pick-up in approximately 5 minutes, max.”

He looked down the tall building- it was about 600 feet at least- and saw that he had about 300, maybe 280 feet left to go. He thanked the heavens then that Dr. Blitzmeyer thought that an 828-meter-long grappling hook was necessary, even if at the time the number had been very specific. He’s never hit Gloreth’s Tower Bank until today, as usually their little team stuck to more subtle jobs, but this year just felt different, like something was about to change, and he doesn’t know why but it’s making him absolutely giddy with adrenaline.

“Good Gods I hope this year never ends!”

“Spoke to soon Sir Dorks-a lot!”

Before Ballister knew what was happening the rope to his grapple was cut by a shine of orange light, and he began falling. As he fell, he looked to his left and saw the very punchable face of one ‘Thoddeus Sureblade’ smugly laughing on his hover-bike at the other man’s soon to be death meeting the hard, cold ground.

“یار، میں واقعی اس آدمی سے نفرت کرتا ہوں۔.” Ballister mumbled to himself and calmly faced to ever closely approaching ground and closed his eyes.

‘میرے پاس او.’

From the rich marble floor that surrounded the tower suddenly burst through the floor a giant crystal-like rock, growing rapidly in speed to meet Ballister halfway and the villain held his hand out towards in and the protruding obsidian in a second molded itself into a sort of slide. Ballister flipped his body with ease and landed with his heels on the smooth rock, catching the bag filled to the brim with cash with ease and slid down the swirling obsidian. He gave the so-called hero a smug look of his own and smirked in satisfaction and the slack-jawed stare of the bumbling buffoon.

“بیوقوف.”

Ballister turned away to keep an eye on his footing and was just about to call it a successful heist when suddenly something hard and bright hit the side of his obsidian, causing it to shake and almost tilt over as he was still sliding down it. He looked to his left side where it came from, ready for another attack from the foolish hero who dared try and take them on when he felt his heart skip a beat at the sight of his favorite color, the most gorgeous color, to have ever adorn any human.

Gold.

“Right on the money, پیار, as always.”

Smiling, Ballister threw the bag of cash in a random direction behind him, his smirk widening when he heard the distinct sound of a hover bike being hit and spiraling out of control. Those things were always to easy to knock out with a breeze anyways, they should really start implementing antigravity instead.

Seems like their top has got that handled though.

At top speed the Institutes finest was heading his way on a non-gravitational field, magnetite induced, electret hog that came with a high-tech visor helmet and other neat little accessories that Dr. Blitzmeyer herself would kill to get her hands on.

In fact, she almost has.

Ballister leapt from his support, still a good few feet in the air and called for different pillars of earth and stone to shoot out of the ground to catch him, and to catch the hero on the ground in out of the protruding obstacles, but the rider simply weaved and dodged all of the appearing stones.

“Hmph, always so avoidant, aren’t you?”

With a flick of his wrist a wall of dark stone burst from the ground, blocking any entrance the hero had between the road and the bank, and though it made it hell for any of the other vehicles- even the hover bikes who almost collided with the wall- to make their way over, it was no issue at all for the hog.

Just as fast as the wall of stone appeared, the Peregrine Falcon (PF)- as it was so lovingly called- launched up from the top afore it could even finish forming properly, passing the end so fast it was almost a complete blur.

It was like slow motion for Ballister, and he was sure for the people on the other side of his wall as well, how effortlessly the hog made its way through.

“Nice.”

That was the last thing Ballister was able to say before the back wheel of the motorcycle made contact with his torso.

Ballister was slammed back into the wall of his own creation, creating a massive cracking dent into the rock.

“Ah, Geumsaeg,” the villain forced out through gasps, “so punctual, as per usual.”

“Give it up, Obsidian!” The hero’s voice echoed in the closed space of the bank as he drove around the first partial crag, then he began climbing up the black surface with the PF. “The H.I. has the place completely surrounded! If you give up now, they might go easy on you!”

Ballister snorted, huffing a sarcastic “yeah right” while he pushed himself from the crater. “معذرت، محبت! But ‘Giving Up’ isn’t necessarily in my vocab.” With another quick move of his hand, a smaller rock appeared underneath the wheel of the hog causing the rider to be thrown off of his seat.

But he didn’t even flinch.

The golden symbol flipped and landed on his feet on the rough surface of the stone.

Which was standing vertically from the ground.

“Huh,” Ballister whispered under his breath, staring confusedly, “that’s new.”

His foe stood a few feet from him, the hero’s signature shield was called to his possession as he stood at the ready. The blue crystals of the lion’s face on the shield shining as it seemingly glared at Ballister with wings on both sides forming its mane. The golden, skin-tight garment of his hero uniform shone in the sunlight as the man stood straight and strong.

Ballister smiled sharply, baring his teeth as he summoned his own weapon, his sword, to his hand. It glinted next to him.

“Why don’t you take your helmet off first, won’t be as fun if I can’t see you lose.”

Wind blew then in the silence that surrounded the two. Ballister felt the cool breeze brush against his frame, tickling his skin and causing his red scarf to move fluidly behind him. In turn, his foe’s golden locks flow in the wind almost hypnotically, twisting and turning elegantly from under his helm.

The hero paused for a moment at the sight of him.

“... I didn’t think you still wore that after last time. I thought you’d finally thrown it away.”

“Don’t be silly, don’t you know it’s always cold out?”

“Stand down, Obsidian.” The gale picked up, and any sounds resounding from the city became nothing but background noise. “I’m not going to let you get away this time.”

The villain sniggered at the statement, growling out low and vicious:

“En garde.”

-

Nimona, now a bird, made their way to Gloreth’s Tower Bank and saw the mess of cops and rocks that now decorated the usually very neat and shiny surroundings of the city’s statement.

“Ha, noice.”

They noticed how, even though they supposedly had every piece of high-grade equipment, the Zero’s Institute was struggling so hard just to get over to wall of dark mineral. Even the hover-bikes were struggling!

Apparently, every time a bike tried going over the wall, a spike would protrude out and impale them out of the sky.

Though it wasn’t the guards themselves, it was good enough for Nimona.

“Woohoo! Waitta go boss!”

As they made it over the black barrier Nimona noticed that their boss was busy fighting the one and only Goldendick on top of another pillar their boss created. It looked intense, but they knew Ballister could hold his own just fine.

Nimona noticed then the bag of cash on the floor next to a knocked out Smallblade and a damaged hoverbike and ran towards it, not noticing the dark shadow looming above in the distance.

-

After Ballister lunged at the hero, who then followed with a shift of his shield into a block- using some force to knock Ballister to the side- his ribs were met with a swift kick, but he had no time to lose his breath as fist came just as fast to try and knock his chin, but he was able to roll out of the way, getting back up immediately and rushing towards the hero, sword raised.

The ensuing fight between the two was exactly what Ballister was hoping for last time.

Only, there are more people around than what he would have liked, but hey, you can’t choose your battles.

Except in this case, he supposes.

“My my!” Ballister slashed his sword from above onto his opponent, getting stopped by the shield with every stab and strike. “I never took you for a coward, میرے پیارے!” He struck low, swiping for the hero’s feet, twisting around to give blow to the top then with great veracity, but he didn’t expect was for the man to flip over his advances and land directly behind him.

Ballister nearly avoided the blunt edge of the escutcheon.

May he remind any onlookers that they are both currently standing on an increased linear surface which stood parallel to the bank. Only he- Ballister- should be able to stay connected to his own tablets through his powers.

*‘His boots don’t seem to have any advancements. Gravitational-pull wasn’t a part of his Powerpack, was it?’

Ballister hummed and stood on his guard once more, raising his sword up in defense, but the hero did not make a move to attack anymore.

“کوچ کے ساتھ لڑنا جیسے یہ ایک ہتھیار ہو۔! Who taught you to fight like that?”

He feints a pivot to the left but instead swings right and using the tip to jab the shield out of its protective position and spun close enough to the other man to slam the hilt of his sword with amain force directly to his head, causing his headgear to come off and the hero to stumble back and almost fall from the pillar, but in an instance, he managed to reattach his feet.

Ballister took the opportunity then to knock the shield completely from the hero’s hold, however he miscalculated his own weight in the impact because now they both lost their footing.

‘ٹھیک ہے، گندگی.’

Afore the draw of the earth to pull him to her cold, solid terrain, a hot firm grip on his shoulder brought him back upward. However, he had no chance to wonder of anything before a strong arm came up to wrap around his throat in a clutch.

Ballister twisted around enough to notice how Ambrosius, though it seems with great effort, had somehow managed to once again reattach his feet to the surface of the stone.

‘Oh I am definitely going to be looking into that.’

“یہ نیا ہے۔, I didn’t take you for the gravity type, you always seemed so down to earth to me.”

“자유인으로서의 마지막 말이 있습니까, Obsidian?”

Ballister gripped at the arm that held him in a choking hold and shivered at the hot breath that spoke against his ear as an overheated body pressed against his own.

“Hm, I’ll be dreaming about this tonight; I can promise you that.”

His grin was squeezed off his face then with a disappointed ‘tsk’ behind him.

“Boss!”

Ballister looked down from where he was held to see Nimona, once again a gorilla, on the lowest level holding and swinging around their loot.

“I’ve got the- !” Was all she was able to get out before a flash of red and black tackled them to the ground. Looking up from there Ballister noticed an ore of Institute vehicles headed their way and cursed under his own breath.

The others had made it over the wall.

Their time was up.

“Well, میری محبت,” Ballister lamented dramatically, turning a bit to gaze at the hero, “it seems that our time together is, once again, cut short by outside forces. Are we still up for this Friday? I’ve been getting Nimona to help me tidy the place up.”

“이게 게임인 것처럼 행동하지 마세요!”

Ballister stopped struggling against the hold on him, and it was like in that moment, everything, and everyone around them froze. The villain could hear the slightly quickened inhalations of his hero as the other man tried to gather his composure from the outburst.

“Stop acting like this is all just some big game to you, Ballister.”

Ballister.

The grip around his neck and arms loosened a bit seeing as the hero couldn’t appear to catch his breath.

“This isn’t some game we’re playing where we participate to win fun prizes! This is about life or death, Ballister! Your life! Can’t you see that?”

With slight irritation, Ballister managed to break out of the hold indefinitely and swiftly shifting around to grab on harshly to his hero’s bicep, yanking him closer.

The world slowly started moving again.

“Of course, I see that Ambrosius,” he hissed softly in his ear, moving back enough so as to better view the man, “I’ve always known that. But this is a game to me. A game that I was forced to be a player in. A game where I play against the H.I. and win.” The sirens were getting closer, distantly he could hear the shouts of his sidekick, but he ignored it all in favor of pulling the other’s face nearer to his own. “And a game where, when I win,” he said, gently tucking the loose strands of golden locks behind his hero’s ear who stared at him with so many emotion in those golden-brown eyes, “I can finally claim my prize.”

Their faces were so close now, close enough that Ballister could feel the hot brush of breath ghosting against his lips.

Gods did he miss the warmth so terribly.

If he were to move just a little further, just tilt his head in the right angle they would-

In a matter of seconds Ballister was abruptly pummeled from his momentum back into reality.

Literally.

Right after hearing a bird-like caw, and feeling a hard jab at his chest, Ballister found himself hurtling once again towards the earth. His head hadn’t caught up fast enough to what was happening for him to focus sufficiently on getting his bearings together in order to summon a stone to try and catch his fall.

Good thing his sidekick always has his back on that front.

Nimona caught him right when he was about to hit the ground, skidding gracelessly to a halt before setting Ballister down on his feet.

The villains realized they were being surrounded by what looked to be at least half of the city’s G.F. and the H.I., however they didn’t even have a moment to attack when out of nowhere a large, blaring vehicle drove through the numerous heaps of officer automobiles. It steered rapidly in a sort of donut-shape and pushed- crushed really- all other wheelers in its way to the side like they were tin cans. Once it stopped next to them neither Ballister nor Nimona wasted any time jumping in, and just as fast as it came the Ogun hightailed it out of there.

The Ogun swerved and dodged all the of the pillars and citizen vehicles that were left in the panic of the robbery.

Ballister gazed up at their savior from where he and Nimona were sprawled on the floor of the military-like, tank-ish van.

“Dr! What a sight for sore eyes you are!”

Dr. Blitzmeyer looked back at them with a quick nod before catching something behind them and instantly veering to left, sharply turning a corner.

“Ne me remerciez pas tout de suite! Look alive!”

The villain stood up straightaway at that and looked out from one of the vehicle windows, spotting a dot of gold on the road with a jet-black shadow in the sky trailing behind them.

And catching up fast.

“ جہنم.”

“Hey! That's not fair! They don’t usually follow us after getting their butts whooped!” Nimona expressed next to him as an otter, watching with a pout at their pursuers. The two observed as the dark shadow that flew skyward got closer and closer, both of the villains' expressions growing more solicitous when the blur of pitch-blackness was almost on top of them.

“Uh, Dr.”

Dr. Blitzmeyer used the driver side mirror to eye the phantom chasing them and clicked her tongue.

“Gregor!” She called to Ballister, standing up from her seat. “آؤ اور وہیل لے لو!”

“Wait what-”

The Dr. merely made her way from the steer over to the back of the Ogun causing Ballister to literally jump at the wheel to stop them from crashing into a building.

“Dr.! Where in blazes are you going?!”

From the rear of the warcraft Dr. Blitzmeyer stood centered, her arms wide open. Around her, automatic-robotic hands appeared and individually placed separate pieces of jumpsuit-like armor- modeled after her usual scientist garb- all over her body, with the last piece being her own self-made high-tech helmet. From underneath her a motorbike popped up out from the car-floor and she revved up the engine as the postern of the Ogun parted to give her way.

“میں قریبی اور ذاتی اٹھنے جا رہا ہوں۔.”

The Dr. launched from out of the threshold and skidded onto the road and making a sharp U turn on the asphalt, preceding behind Ballister and Nimona just as the golden motorist caught up.

Ballister slue to avoid crashing into drivers on the road as the pursuit led them into citizen territory, cursing loudly when more on more civilians seemed to materialize out of thin air into their path.

“WHY ARE YOU ALL OUT ON A MONDAY AFTERNOON?!” He heard Nimona exclaim behind him from an open window, swinging her fist up at the people who were jumping out of their way, shifting into an old man. “DON’T YOU PEOPLE HAVE LIVES TO GET TO?!”

“Nimona! Please focus- !”

A hard thud expeditiously came from the front-top of the Ogun and the duo subsequently fell quiet, neither of them even bothering to look at the front anymore as they stared up at the roof for a few seconds as nothing else was heard after that.

“... Maybe that was a stray mailman?”

Razor sharp claws stabbed through the heavy metal ceiling of the tank right in between them.

“... Or maybe not.”

The claws began to tear at the metallic headliner, unsealing it like a can of boiled peanut patch.

Original.

However, even so the assailant was having some issue with the reinforced layers of the Ogun, but they were making steady way to the point where a glowing red eye was staring down at them from the rip in the craft, and a low rumble seeping in through sharp teeth.

“Shitshitshitshit- BOSS!”

Ballister did all he could do with maneuvering to try and shake the creature from off their arse, but it was hanging on tight.

From the outside view Dr. Blitzmeyer could see the avian atop her Ogun, gradually peeling away at one of her finest creations, and you know what?

She really didn’t appreciate that much.

The Dr. twisted one of the handles of her cycle and clicked a button on the side, firing off a grapple from the dash. It wrapped around the winged hero’s waist, yanking them back while slamming them directly across the pavement, narrowly missing both The Dr. and the other hero.

She chuckled under her breath as an audible “hijo de puta!” quickly passed her by from the black and red blur.

Next to her the gold adorned hero came up close, obviously trying to knock her aside from the road but she avoided his tactics by ramping from one of the toppled cars on the sidewalk, essentially escaping him, but only for a moment as not a second later the hero’s hog climbed on the side of one of the many office buildings and the man pulled a sort of moto-nine o’ clock in an attempt to kick her from her bike with- calculated- 75% superpower, but The Dr. managed to intercept it with her arm bracer, though the punt did manage to deviate the mad scientist enough to prompt a sudden break.

The screeching of her bike compelled Ballister to look back and see that his lab partner was in some distress.

“Nimona- !”

“Way ahead of ya!”

“Wait- Let me finish!”

“TOO LATE!”

Nimona flitted as a smoke of pink light through the rip in the roof, forming into a bird the moment she hit the outside and hurrying to their friend.

“Oh, we are so talking when we get back.” Ballister grumbled.

He turned the wheel of the Ogun and definitely smashed a few things on the turn but at this point he didn’t give a damn. Things were looking a lot more venturous than usual, and not in a good way. If any other delays were to arise, then they would seriously be in hot water.

If the Institute were to get their hands on them...

Ballister gritted his teeth and stomped on the gas.

Nimona, on the other hand, was literally only a second away from reaching Dr. Blitzmeyer as a tiger when without warning the scruff of her coat was caught by pointed talons and was tossed to the side where they landed on their feet.

A harpy, about 6’5 with long birdlike legs, sharp claws and talons, and intimidating wings, confronted them head on. The rest of her looked pretty human, except for the sharp white teeth and pitch-black sclera, complimented by the familiar red piercing pupils.

“Sup birdbrain, been a while.”

Nimona greeted, turning into a brightly colored bird with a gray head, white cheeks, a black bib, and rufous neck. They tweeted around for a bit, but instead of making the usual small banter the hero just continued to stare at her with wide crimson eyes.

Right when Nimona was about to tauntingly ask ‘what was up?’ they noticed something scintillating from the sky and recognized the glinting of cameras from news helicopters and then some.

‘... There aren’t usually this many cameras around these kinds of things.’ Nimona thought, but when they noticed the Loser’s Institute logo on some of them Nimona immediately understood the more-then-usually serious behavior.

‘So they want us to put on a show, huh? Ok than.’

Shaking in a manner where it looked like they were about to fluff up, but instead they shifted into a bull and stomped at the floor, huffing and snorting as they prepared to dash. Nimona charged at the hero with their horns brandished, ready to run the winged hero flat to the ground. However, their horns and managed to halt them in their tracks, fishtailing them both for a bit before they came to a definite stop.

“Ayo, Sparrow.” Nimona greeted. “How’s it been?”

“Rough.” The hero, Sparrow, answered with some effort in a deep, gruff voice.

It’s not like Nimona was gonna go easy on these chumps, that's a sucker thing to do. They were using 100% strength for this one specifically.

They saw how Sparrow looked up to the side for a second, then changed the angle of her grip on the bull’s horns.

“Hey, sorry ‘bout this, kid.”

With some exertion and a groan-like growl Nimona felt themself being lifted- albeit a little bit- by the horns. They had a split second to panic before they were then tossed onto their side right in front of the Ogun who was headed right towards them.

Ballister slammed on the brake the moment the pink bovine suddenly came into view, sharply turning the vehicle, almost toppling it to try and avoid hitting his sidekick. He groaned painfully as his brain shook along with the rest of him, but when his vision finally stilled, he was met with demonic looking eyes glaring at him from outside of his driver’s side window and he froze. A sheepish smile creeped onto his face when noticed Nimona trapped underneath the avian’s arm as a kit, hissing and scratching while she threw a mini tantrum to try and escape, but the hero stayed unmoving.

“... Sparrow...” The villain acknowledged politely, lifting a hand up slowly to press the lock of the car door. “ آپ کو دیکھ کر بہت اچھا لگا، کچھ عرصہ ہو گیا ہے۔.”

The dark-maned hero lifted a tightly balled fist, pulling as far back as she could with the kit and struck at the window, cracking it in her attempt to smash it open.

“Well, clearly the feeling isn’t mutual.”

Ballister tried to call on his geos and obsidians but realized with dread that his powers were debilitated from overuse, and the engine of the Ogun seemed to have stalled from the forceful use of the brake as it didn't move no matter what Ballister did.

Whoops.

A few meters away Dr. Blitzmeyer was able to regain some control on her bike, enough at least to not break anything in her body when in fell on its side. She groaned softly and endeavored to get up when a golden bike came to stand before her, the golden hero climbing off and trekking towards the Dr. with some caution.

At least he knows better.

She immediately grabbed something from her heal, one of her stowed away artilleries, but it flew out of her hands prior to it even being brandished, landing directly into grasp of Geumsaeg. Dr. Blitzmeyer could only afford the luxury of being stunned for a moment, nonetheless she didn’t have time to dissect any of what just happened as the sound of the Ogun skidding harshly across the tarmacadam showed the imperativeness of their current predicament.

The Dr. shot forward to grab the handle of her bike once more.

“이제 끝이다, Dr. Blitzmeyer.”

She activated something from the control panel near her steer and fired one of her wheels off in an attempt to trip him, but in an instance his feet were no longer touching the ground.

In fact, it didn't even touch the ground after.

He was elevated in the air, using only what seemed like his own hands as aid as they were out, palms wide beside him.

‘... So... he can levitate.’

Now that was definitely not on her bingo card for this year.

“충분히!”

“Entschuldige, Blondie,” Dr. Blitzmeyer recalled the wheel with the control on her bracer, which allowed her to ramp the tire over the side of the hero’s own bike, and by the time he turned around it was to late as the object already made contact with his headgear, “aber das ist noch lange nicht vorbei.”

The hero stumbled back while the wheel rejoined the front of the Dr.’s bike, that was able to regain its own footing with its creator.

Dr. Blitzmeyer took the opportunity to accelerate fore just as her foe recovered and boot his temple with the iron side of her heel. The hero staggered back holding his head, which now sported a cut, and the Dr. used her grapple to bind and trap him in place as she steered the mobile in a loop around the blond man.

“Je m'excuse pour celle-ci.”

She activated the electroluminescence in her bike and sent currents of electricity through the cable of which her grapple consisted of and transmitted a shock of over 80 - 100 mA.

Although gold might make an excellent conductor, he’s still human after all.

She also released a dense mist from a humidifier located near the underside of the pillion, seeing the chemical reaction of tarnish already taking effect due to the concentration of sulfur she added in the fog, causing the hero to become weakened, his movements slowing as he coughed while attempting to escape the binds.

He wasn’t the only one who knew better.

Her visor showed an alert of activity on her left and she evaded getting pierced by cutting talons and canines, though it seems like she wasn’t the intended target. The cable of the grapnel was bit straight through. The exhausts releasing the haze was also damaged in the process, sliced apart like nothing.

The Dr. wasn’t happy about the afflictions done- to either of her vehicles- that she would have to restore. But, considering that both heroes were now occupied- what with her avian cryptid assisting their partner in getting free from his truss- she couldn’t be too upset about the prospects of things. She exploited this moment to whizz her way over to Ballister and Nimona, who were ostensibly tossed aside when Sparrow went to Geumsaeg’s aid- in Nimona’s case literally. They were able to recover quickly though, Nimona lifting the vehicle back to standing position, and were already back up speeding away.

Dr. Blitzmeyer was able to catch up and rode beside the Ogun, maneuvering her way to trek next to where Ballister sat controlling the monstrosity.

“Antigrav?” She spoke to him through her comms.

“Yeah, I know, اسے بعد میں محفوظ کریں.”

They managed to get out of there without any more hitches, the hero’s never getting back up to follow them.

Ballister would occasionally throw a glimpse back- given the hectic chase that occurred until that point of course- but at last spun away, hitting the gas and skedaddled before anything else happened.

-

Ambrosius sat, motionless, on top of the now permanent fixture to the marble grounds of Gloreth’s Tower Bank. He stared off into the distance, watching as construction workers, employed under the H.I., tried their best to get rid of as many of the pillars on the road as possible.

It was almost amusing how bad they were doing.

‘Only one person can get that done you guys, sorry.’

It had been about an hour since the robbery and pursuit, and the sun had just begun to set on the horizon.

Ambrosius sighed as he watched the orange color of the last bits of sun light fall across the city.

His city.

A city he should be protecting with his life as stated by his descendancy, and yet it seems, no matter what he does, he only makes a mess out of everything.

Right after their failed capture of the villains Sparrow had assisted him back to the bank where the other heroes and medical personnel were waiting. His regenerative factor started working quickly however, so there wasn't much that could really be done for him other than a clean wipe. He was left to his own devices while his partner went to give her statement for a report, so after a while he wandered away, managing to sneak his way from all the bustle and noise. At some point the Director had called him, no doubt to interrogate him about what went wrong again, and to scold him about his responsiblities as a descendant of Gloreth- The Great Hero of the City- again, and he had to resist the urge to throw his bracer away.

He decided to ignore it instead.

He didn’t need to hear about all his failures of the day from anyone right now.

He knew, logically, that this wasn’t just his doing. If the H.I. actually had had good protocols and methods in place for situations like this, maybe they wouldn’t constantly have to “rely” on the government's- the citizen’s- money to get things fixed after.

But... somehow, his brain found a way to make that his fault too.

And maybe it was...

It usually was...

That's what his...

... He should really visit his mom.

A resounding flock of feathers was promptly heard to his right and a small hand found its way on his shoulder.

He didn’t bother turning around, but he didn’t have to.

Tani came to sit next to him, looking away into the same direction at the workers and snickered when one of the removed stones- a small one- fell onto a hero’s head and some of the H.I. members who were still down there gathering evidence for their reports started blaming each other for it, and even started a little fight.

They both enjoyed the quiet together, with the occasional sound of a shout and the light of a blast coming from the bottom, and admired the way the sky turned a variation of blues, purples, and oranges.

“... 당신은 그들을 놓아주었습니다. 왜죠?”

"Estabas en problemas".

“No, I-”

“Yes. Ya were.”

The noise that followed was deafening, almost suffocating, but if they were waiting for Ambrosius to say something, then they’d have to keep on waiting.

“Youz got a little blood on ya head there.”

He paid them no mind as Tani reached over to wipe the golden stain away with her gloves, revealing underneath no scratches, and no scarring.

Not even a bump.

“The’e we go, 인형. Now, can you tell me what’s wrong?”

Nothing was wrong.

“당신은 그들을 놓아주었습니다.”

“.... Babe, no offense, but ‘m gettin’ the vibe that that ain’t exactly the problem he'e.”

The sun has finally fallen across the horizon, setting fully to rest below the line of buildings and trees, the last beams of light creating a sort of halo.

It was beautiful.

They both heard laughing coming from the bottom of the rock wall and saw how the fight from earlier turned into a friendly brawl amongst the other workers and heroes.

They laughed so freely and earnestly, so happily.

Like they had nothing to lose.

‘Must be nice.’

“... You froze up out there, and I might’ve jumped the gun a bit. I'm sorry.”

He knew she was staring at him now, yet he still couldn't find it in himself to face her right now. He knew what happened out there, how he just- just panicked out of nowhere was...

He was just glad no one else was there to see it.

A loud crash sounded from one of the pillars and more yelling followed, but this time Tani didn’t laugh.

“... Was it something he said? Or-”

“그건 아니었어요. 그냥..."

He sighed heavily, pulling his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them.

"I wasn’t expecting him to be wearing the scarf again, is all.”

“... Not to be judgmental or anythin’ brothe’, but huh?”

-

Getting back to the lair hardly took any time, though they did make a detour to grab some pizza and ice pops on the way.

Ballister cackled obstreperously while he exited the Ogun, tossing the sacks of cash onto their lair’s couch. He advanced towards the lab and began punching in some codes, entering the Hero’s Institute’s secret files effortlessly.

“Hat irgendjemand eine Ahnung, was zum Teufel heute passiert ist?”

Meredith asked as she gave her Ogun a closer inspection, humming irritably when she noticed all the damage she’d have to have Ballister repair. “It was a closer call than usual, Gregor, and I don’t know if you can guess, but I’m not necessarily thrilled by that.” Blitzmeyer saw that there was a feather stuck between one of the many hinges and delicately plucked it from its entrapment, inspecting closely the red and black down before placing it in between her hair and ear.

Realizing she was being ignored after only receiving a half-hearted ‘hum’ Meredith rolled her eyes and elegantly jumped off the roof of her van. “Do you have any ideas, at least, about the sudden new upgrade in powers your Golden Honeypot ostensibly has recently acquired?”

“یہ سب میرے لیے بھی خبر ہے۔! I mean come on! Do you think Antigrav maybe? Psychokinesis?”

“Could also be another level of telekinesis? Maybe mixed with some sort of electromagnetism?” Dr. Blitzmeyer pulled up a screen from her brace. “Defying the laws of gravity and physics is nothing new to those born with natural abilities, hero or not, but your Golden Boy has absolutely no record of ever using such abilities, and it's not stated in his *Powerpack.”

Nimona stood behind them as the two nerds blabbed on, staring at the Ogun thoughtfully.

“Uh, btw’bs, am I the only one who finds the lack of cheddar shreds around our ride a bit... odd?”

Both Ballister and Meredith turned to where Nimona was scrutinizing their getaway ride, and the shifter were right.

Not even a spec of gold anywhere on anything or anyone, not even gold flecks. Usually, after an encounter with his hero, they often times returned back to the lair with something having turned into gold or melted down into metallic liquid, but there was absolutely nothing this time. That's when Ballister realized for the first time since the fight that Ambrosius hadn't used any of his usual powers... not even the last time they fought. Pairing this with the gold dust Ballister had found that on his person that morning made the whole situation...

Interesting.

Very interesting.

Not concerning. Definitely not concerning. Ballister was absolutely not concerned...

But if he just so happened to pull up some files regarding the Institute’s ‘Golden Boy’ to check if anything was added to his charts and information.

No he didn’t.

“Nothing to worry about, I’m sure,” He scoffed over his frantic typing, waving a hand dismissively. “In fact, it might just be exactly a sign towards the game changer we’ve been waiting for. لہذا، ہمیں تفصیلات کے بارے میں پریشان نہیں ہونا چاہئے. This is our year, after all.”

Meredith and Nimona flashed each other a worried glance as frantic typing filled the room. The older woman then proceeded to signal the shifter to go talk to the man, then ignored Nimona shaking their head by pretending to stretch and yawned loudly.

“Well, I’m knackered.” She said, walking past Nimona to lightly nudge them forward towards Ballister. “Better go hit the sack, ‘ve got a long day tomorrow. زیادہ دیر تک جاگتے نہ رہیں۔.”

“G’night Doc.”

“شب بخیر, اچھی طرح سونا.”

Nimona stood there awkwardly for a minute, trying to find the right words to start off this conversation, but it was hard to think over the sound of excessive click-clacking of the keyboard.

Ugh, what were they supposed to say, "wanna talk about it?", lame.

They were never really the best at these kinds of things anyways.

Good? Sure, on special occasions. The best? Even they knew they'd be biting off more than they could chew here, and that's saying something.

The shifter also knew their friend long enough now to know that he wasn't gonna open up about any of it.

Not tonight.

“... Sooo,” They tried to be casual about their approach, sliding over the Ballister as a shark. “Boss, what do you say if we celebrate our awesome win against those pretentious heroes by ordering some pizza and putting on a lame B-Movie while pulling out our 'jamies? Or! Even better! We go out on the town and tear some political shit up! Keep 'em on their toes! Whatcha think?

... Aaand you’re not paying attention.”

He didn’t even look up from the monitors!

Rude.

Nimona sniffed in discontent and turned into a cat instead, walking across the keyboard where Ballister was working to fall flat on his hands.

At least that got him to stop.

“Yes, Nimona? Can I help you?”

They scrunched their face at the confirmation that he was indeed not paying attention to them earlier.

“Watch a movie with meeeeeeeeeeeeeeooooooOOOOW!” They screeched while throwing a cat tantrum, twisting their body around in that funny feline way that had Ballister laughing and shaking his head.

He looked up at the opened files for another moment, but inevitably he sighed as he picked up the shapeshifted cat and placed them on his shoulder. “ٹھیک ہے، ٹھیک ہے۔. It’s been a pretty long day anyhow, and watching a terrible movie with my favourite sidekick sounds pretty good right now.”

Nimona cheered and jumped off his shoulder to their living/play area, getting everything ready while Ballister ordered a large half pepperoni and half mushroom from their favorite pizza place, Villainous. He then joined Nimona on the couch, pulling one of the many collected blankets onto himself and got comfortable.

“They said at least 15 to 30 minutes. Anyhow, which movie did you pick?”

Nimona turned to him with the most devious of grins as the title of the film reading ‘Manos: Hands of Fate’.

“اوہ چلو! Nimona!”

His crony cackled when he groaned in despair as the movie started. Eventually though he accepted his fate when Nimona jumped up to curl on his lap after making some biscuits, smiling softly and purring when he placed a protective hand on their back.

The two of them settled in together calmly, enjoying each other’s company in their own safe haven.

.

.

.

“کیا آپ کو لگتا ہے کہ اس نے سرخ اسکارف کو دیکھا ہے۔?”

“.... Yeah Boss, I think he did.”

-

-

-

-

-

Somewhere, deep in the darkness of a small undercroft, clomps were emanating from dark-heeled boots which walked across the shadowy confines of the bricked room.

Screens of different colors were displayed all over the walls, with one of the biggest monitors in the front center of them all exhibiting images and broadcasts from the secret camera’s hidden around the targeted building of the fight that occurred on the day.

The boots stopped right before the panel where the biggest image was shown.

A moment, right before the fight near the tower was taken to the streets, where the hero ‘Geumsaeg’ and villain ‘Obsidian’ where both hanging from the tallest pillar of dark stone. With a few clicks on the board the footage was enhanced to where the noticeable closeness of the two could be obviously seen, as well as the impossible feet of which the hero was pulling to be able to be hanging from the pillar.

At the very least, it should have been impossible.

“We’ve let this go on for long enough. We’ve let this foolishness go on for too long.

We must make sure that everything stays on course and according to plan, and that everyone involved stays on track with the progression. Everything must stay perfectly aligned.

Perhaps these recordings will come in handy when things get out of hand, perhaps when... sending a message.”

However right when the footage was about to be archived, every single one of the screens and monitors began to glitch and malfunction, the dull lights that slightly illuminated the room started flashing bright or even duller than before until finally everything went black...

The middle center monitor came back on after a moment.

A deep, almost scratchy rumbling chuckled echoed all around, and an ominous voice rang out from the speakers:

"̸̧̢̧̨̨̢̢̨̨̢̡̡̛̛̛̟̠̘̼̥̮̪͙̗̜̗̬̺̳͇̭̻̯̪̻̮̯̩̹̦̳̥̣̲̮͈͔̥̳̟̞̼̮̗̻͇͍͉͍͉̩̳̳̥͙̥̱̠̠̤̻͇͓̻̦͈̣̩̘̼͚̗̰͉̼͖̲̮͇͚̖̲̼̬̝̳͙̻͕̣͕̟̖͓͎͔̺̰̆́̋͆̔͒̓̾̈́̑͊̔̾̆͗̔͌̌̈̓̏͑͆̑̉́̇̾̀̀͆͆̆̉̂͐͐͑̋̒́̎̈́̎͆̃̏̄̊̀̄̽͌̈́̎͑̌̈̈́̋̂́͒̐̐̋́̉͛̆̋̅̓̈́̾̎́͗̿̂͌͛͗́̄̇̔̑́̾̐͒̔̔͛̃͒̒͐̉͌̂̏̀́̏͒͋̉͐̾̄̎͒̔̀͆̅̌̄̅̋̑̿̚͘͘̕͘̚̕͘̚̕̕͜͜͜͜͠͝͠͝͠͝͝͝͝͠ͅN̷̛̛̛̛͕͖̟̱̟̳̞̗̍̓̿̊̈́̆̒͐̋̾͗̔̋̄̀̉̐̿̌͊͆̅̊̎̎̔̓̈́̈́̐̾̿̄͆͂̿̄͑̈̈́̊͌̈̒̀̑͛̋̆͋̅́̿̐͌̔͗̆͑́̽̍̄͐̈̍̿̄̊̏̀͗͆̋̽̃̾̒͒̓̾͗́͗͑̾̏̇͒̌̂̀͂̀̍̓̎͆̒̊̾̋̅̆̒́͒͛̀̂́͆̋̀͋̕͘̚̕̚͘̚̕͘͘̚͘͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͠͝͝͝͝ơ̶̡̢̧̢̡̧̢̡̡̧̡̨̛̜̥͇̗͔͕͈̰̼̼̱̜͕͉̪̩͍̬̦͉̥͕̫͔̦̣͈̙͔͉̺̩̯̤̦͙̲̝̻͎̻̞̭͕͇̫̜̘̠͉̩̻͈̯̬͕̱̜̙̻̤̫̺͎͈͙̩͔͕̻̳̖͚̗̬̹̰͚̺͓͓̮̤͈̲̰͍̞̞̪̩̰̠͈̜̦̬̪̬̝͕̰͕̼̻̤͖͐͂̒̈́̄̅̆̃̀̀̆̄͐̑͆̔̀͊̑̉̑͗́̉̆̒̃͛̅̐̂̂͂̅̂͆́̎̋̎͑̅̄̓̐́͑͆̃̆́̉͒̒͛̉̑̈́̿͑̎͗̑̋̆̐͒̉̋̅̌̍̕͘͜͜͜͜͜͜͝͝͠͝͝ͅͅ ̴̧̨̧̡̡̢̧̨̢̨̢̧̧̢̨̛̛̛̟̰͙͍͙̙̮͕͙̭͓̩͈͓̟̰̦͎̤͔̜͔̮̝͈̞̟͔̣̰̖͈̣͔̠͕͇͓͇̦̳̜̖͇̦̬̹̫͎͍͔̹̱͔͍̪̰͖̬̝̻̫̣͍̹̹͇̯̲͍̰̻͓̱̱͖̭̮̳̖̙̫̻̪̪͔͎̳͕̬̪͚͕̮̤̝̪̮̣̤͈̫̺̝̩͎̰͍̯̻̱̘͍͔̝̝̩̖͉͚̳͍̰̜̼̺̹̟͔̫͓͈̣͕̮̰̞̱̠̑͋̾̑̑̐̓̔́̀́̃̄̋̈́̀̍̀̔̈́͐͗́̋̾͗̿͋̑͛̄̑̿̌̓̏̓͌̋̀̓̊͆̏͋́͂̉͒̀̉͂́̓̈͗̑͑̀̑́̀̆̃̍̋̐͑̅̽͗͂̋́͑͛̌̂̉̈́̏̅̔͂́̊̏̈́̚̚͘̚̚͘͘͘͘͜͜͝͝͝͠͠͝ͅͅͅͅt̵̢̨̢̧̨̨̢̢̧̡̨̢̨̛̛̬̱̬̤̗̺̳̠̫̻̞̘͈̤͔̼̣͙̞̤͉̝̜̩͚̲͉͇̰̯̺̼̤̰͓̠͉̣̣̫̝̦̥̰̗̯͖̰̙͕͎̯̫̬͚͍̜͕͔̰̻̝̤̞͉̣̭̘̹̻͔̣͓̘͉͎̩͚̫̤̱̥̮̞͇̳̪̞͍̣̯̹͓̤̦̺̜̺̙̱͙͚̜͎̘̦̯̞̬̤̖̹̦͍̱͕̺͚̟̜̖̦̥͚͊͂̒̍̀̈́̋͛̉̄̈́̊̈́̈́̋̅̄͑̌̓̌̓̉̒̓̒̈́̎́̐͗͋́̉͂̇̍̒̋̈̆̊̅̍̀̓̿̓̓̒̃̔̈̄͌̅̋͂̾́̓́́́́̾̓͂̈́͑̈̾̒͂͋̈́́͆̀̍̈́͌̅̋̃͒̃̄̈́͌̔͂̒̈́̀͆̃̉̊̃̑̓͌̌̄̒͂͆̍͂̈̔̃͑͋͛̾͐̊̚͘͘̕͜͜͜͝͠͝͝͝͠͝ͅͅͅͅā̶̢̧̢̛̟̥͕̤͖̲̩̮̟͉̯̞̯͍̲̱̝͕̓̍̎̋̓̂̔̈́̈́̈́̐̀̀̈́̎͒͊̓̔̒̊̆̉͛̀̔̍́͒͂͗̉͌̍̉͗͋̏͂͗͊̀̐̀̓͒͐̉̆͊̊͌́͋͗̿̔̈́̀̏̆̾̐̉̋̈̀̅͐̈́͐̑͘̚͘͘̚͝͝͠͝͝͠ͅ ̶̢̡̢̧̧̡̢̢͚͖͕̪̱̤̭̻̲̻̘͔̖͚͕̪̤̳̹̻̱̝͙͚̜̣̜̰̟̺̫̠̜͙̠͕̺̤̦̭̲̯̝̰̭̬̫̲̯̗͖̳̟̟̤͔͔͕̬̬̦̤̳̩̼̣͇̣̙̭͉̮̥͙̝̳͈̜͍͕̘̯̀́́̇̓̾́̿̓͌̓̓̓̍̀̌̽͗̐̆͒̍̃̈́̓̎̆̍͑̊̉̌̐̒̃̆̓͊̀͒̈́̃̉̅́́̐͘̚͘͘͠ͅͅş̷̡̡̧̨̧̡̨̨̡̧̡̢̨̢̧̛̛̛̛̼̯̝̘͍̥͕͇͙̜̗͈̻̲̮̺̘̩̝̝͓͉̥̫͇̬͚̟̻͍̱̻͓̫̤̬̻͕̱͇͓͈̗͓̗̺̦̥̝̥̺̹̗̼̘̜̳̟̖̠͈̱̟͓̤̱͉̗͕̟̩̪͎͉̣̬̬͕̠͙̹̣̜̻̥̖̭͓͇͔̤̰̼͓̠̝̱̪͉̫̙̼̰͍̫̲̯̣̺̯͓͖̠͉̘̤̲̠̩̤̘̰̭̻͚̖̮̳̗͍̜̰̬̳͍̖͔͓̘͎̦̤̪͆̅͒̈́̈́͒̄͛̌̾̈́̍̿͑͒͌̈́͋̂̾̏̈́̅͌̈́̆̑́̿̏̃̔̑̀̏̂̉̀̏́̐̑͑̐̅̓̇̌̕̚͘͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͠͝ͅǫ̶̢̧̨̧̨̡̛̛͕̺̟̪̭̪̜̰̯̺̰̦̼͕͕̺̪͇͙̗̥̠̫̙͓̤̯̣̪͍͕͚̞̣͎̥̠̝̟̼̤̪͙̞͙͓͙̲͎̂́͌̽̉̒̐̒̒̾̏͋͑́̊̅̄̊̋͗͑̑̂̾̎͗̓́͊͐͊̆̑̾̉̀͂͛̅̄̐͒̍̀̆͗̃̏͊̏̈́̓̒̊͗̅̓́̐͑̄͒͑̀͐̾̄̈͑͑̉̔̓̄̽̀̒̑̌̐̊̈̆̈́͛̅̒̔̂̅́͒̈̉͋͋̈̂͒̎̾̋̀͋͑̑̊̚͘͘͘̕͘̚͘͜͜͝͝s̵̛̛͇͓̠̦͓̦̭̠̺͗͌̔̒̅͛͑̅̀̕̚͝ơ̵̧̡̨̛̼̩̩̣͖̜͖̱̦͈̟̦͔̰͎̟̬͓̯͚̦̔͋̍̅̏̃̆̾̃̌̽̃̀̄̈́̓̉̍̍̓̈́̆͑͂̏̆̓̆́̽̏̍̑̑͗̍̉̈́͗̔͗̒̇̆̿̌̓̿͂͛͛̔̈͑̾̽́̇̅̄͂͗́̍̈́̇̎͐̀̇͋̌́̏̇͒̋̀̓̿̓̇̅̕̕̕̕̚͘͝͝͠͝͠͝͠͝ͅd̸̡̡̨̨̢̨̡̡̨̢̧̧̛̛̛̛̫̫̠͚̠̯̝̬͖̲̮̗̤̦̮̼̟̫̠͉̦̤̞͖̪͎̘̫͕̭̼̠͉͇̤̥͉̱̦̮̠̖͚̤̬͖̻̱͈̘̥̜̤͕̻͈͕̦̼̩̤̝̼̠͙̟̪̟̯̰̯̼͖͇̗̗̫͈̮̤̙͍̣̭̰̦̠̠̫̰̜͙̝̥͔̹̯̖̮͓͈̼͓̟͈̗̹͖̣͔͙̗̮̳̫͕̝̜͙͈̻̪̝͚̰͔͕̮̭̯͎̲̞̉̂̽̉̑͐̊̈́̀̀̇͂̌̿̓̓̿̽̍͐̓̆̍̒̍̒̌͛́̇͗̇̋̄̏̋͛̄̈̋͑͗̆͊̄͒́̔͑̋̾̕̚̚͘͘͜͠͠͠ͅͅͅͅͅͅͅé̸̢̛̛̝̠̣̖̫͎͉͓̬̫̟̼̒̎̎̓̆͂͗̋̉͆̈́̀͂̃̉͂͂͌̒̿͋̃̒̌͑̓͂͑͌̆̀́̃͌̈́̽͐̉̽́͊̕͝͝͝͝͠.̴̧̡̧̧̨̧̢̡̨̢̧̢̧̛̛̞͍͔̠͉͔͚͕͎̺͖͉̞̦͍̗̠͙̦̹̲͉̰͍̼͔̯̦͖͓̗̠̺̖̜̪̻̘͕̝̳̜͎̳̼̜͓͎̩̰̩̝͙͕͍͔͔̰̜̼̼̖͓͚͍̖͚͎̮̭̤̼͖̥̠̺͎̝̜̙͓͉̜̜͓̬̦̹̞̲̺̫̬̲̱̝̹̠͉̺̄̌͛̒͂̍̈͂̔̓̽̄̂͆̀͒̉̔͋̄́̈́͋̈̋̽̊̄̂́̏̈̈́̑̽͋̾͆̓̋́̀̋̇̀̎̓̾͑́̂̍̆͊̊̄̈́́́̈̃̑͐͂̓̓̔̀̒̓̓͛́͆̾̀̋̃̾̒̎̀͒̊͊̌̏͌͋̀͊̈́͌̆̍͒̀͑̏́͐̃̈̎͌͊͂͂͑͒̊̈́̇̈́́͌̈́͂̎̓͋̒̋̒̈̽͐̆͂̔̚̚̚͘̕͘̕̕̕̚̚̕͜͜͜͜͜͝͝͝͝͠͝͠͠͝͝͠͝͝͠͠ͅͅͅ"̸̢̢̘̤̣̥̝͓͔͎̹̩̘̮̰͓̞̠͍̘̪̼̞͎̲̹̮̞̝͚͆̃̓̋̾̄̆͒͋̌̉̄̋̑́̃͊̅̉̓͛̓̔̂̽̀͌́͊͋̎̊͂̉̈́͆̏̓̐̿͒̾̄́̈̍̊̍̏͋̋̇̌̍̊̏̈́̐̊́̓̈͌̽͛͑̃̉̓͐̽͒̿͋̑͘̚͘͘͝͝͝͠ͅ

Different codes suddenly appeared on the screen before a bar stating the percentage of deleted files appeared showing the number of files that were currently being deleted.

Before a reaction could be made, everything had been wiped from the systems afore being shut down for good.

Only silence resounding between the walls now.

The person within briefly stood still at the panel for a moment, rage filling their chest, but took in deep, calming breaths.

“... Well then.

Time for plan B.”