Chapter Text
Richie didn't want to be a bad person. Not really. But sometimes life just takes good people in bad directions and, before they realise what's happened, they're stuck too far deep in the sludges of life to get out.
No, Richie didn't want to be a bad person. But that shadow would always follow him as he tried to do good things in his regular life. He would be cursed to walk around with the knowledge that he could kill somebody in a single instant for his entire life.
Abilities weren't too common around Hatchetfield. So he was careful to avoid using his own. This was easier said than done thanks to the fact that he worked at Beanies. Annoying customers tested his patience every day, and every day he drew closer and closer to snapping.
Which was probably why he was so extreme when in costume. Huh. That explained a lot.
Either way, Richie's patience was being tested again as he stood behind the till, listening to someone order an overly complicated customised drink, but incrementally cutting into the order with things like "but I'm in a hurry" and "you need to make sure you know all of this because I'm in a hurry and I can't wait for you to get it done quickly". Richie just wanted to yell at the man that his drink would already be made now if he stopped repeating that he was in a hurry.
When he finally finished the order, Richie put on his best customer service smile and nodded. "Will that be all, sir?"
"What part of I'm in a hurry don't you understand?"
Fuck that guy. Richie's face dropped as he turned to face the back, where the coffee machine was. Zoey was handling another customer with much more grace on the other station and Richie just wanted to gouge his eyes out with a rusty spoon. The coffee made emptied the coffee pot and he groaned ever so slightly. Before he turned around to give the customer his drink, he spat into the coffee and put on the customer service smile again.
"Here you go, sir." As the man sped out of the shop, Richie's face fell and he stuck up his middle finger. Not so much as a fucking thank you. He rolled his eyes and paused because god he was turning into his aunt Emma.
Apparently beanies just did this to people. Unless you were Zoey or Nora. Zoey had a threatening sense of happiness to her that Richie had seen in the theatre kids back at Hatchetfield High, and Nora had no reason to be miserable where she owned it. So Richie and Emma were strung along getting the short ends of sticks.
The bell on the top of the door rung and Richie held back the instinct to groan at it's sound. Zoey was still chatting to the customer he'd noticed a moment ago so he had to take this one. He wiped his hands on the apron he wore, putting on a smile.
"Welcome to beanies, what can I get you today?" He asked as he turned. He faltered in his turn, pausing as he saw Max Jägerman across from him. He'd seen him in the street - it was hard not to in a town like Hatchetfield - but he'd never had even a small talk filled conversation with him since High School. Good to know neither of them had left in the two years since graduation.
Max, to his credit, also looked surprised. "Oh. Right. Um. Can I just have a black coffee?" Richie nodded and turned around to put on a new pot of coffee. "Richie, y'know, I'm really s-"
"Don't." Richie interrupted. His hand tightened against the coffee pot handle as he lifted it to pour. His teeth grit together before he loosened it, putting on the most convincing smile he could when he turned around, holding the coffee. "It's in the past, yeah? Just. Leave it."
Max seemed uncertain but nodded, paying and putting in a tip. Awkwardly, he said "see you later" before turning around and leaving the store. Richie sighed and deflated, turning to Zoey.
"I'm taking my break." She just waved him off as he walked into the back.
Richie's hands shook. Irrational anger and fear pulsed like red hot lava through his veins. Tears settled in the corners of his eyes as his face twisted in disgust at himself and at the reaction seeing Max had caused within himself. Even if it had been a pleasant interaction. What right did Max have to apologise after two years for easily over ten years of bullying?
Richie flicked his hand and something to the right of him exploded into shards of wood, hitting against his shirt and pants. He looked in that direction and frowned. At least the exertion had lowered his mood slightly.
He still had half of his shift to put a smile on his face. He couldn't lose his temper in there.
---
When night falls, Richie goes out and looks for somewhere to pick a fight. He's been itching to do something since seeing Max, any memory of it stirring the steady flow of anger bubbling up inside him. Richie didn't want to be a bad person.
But sometimes it was easier being one.
The new jewelry store is practically begging to be ruined. With it's pristine glass windows and sparkly jewels in the glass casings. Hatchetfield was far from a sparkly jewelry place. So smashing up the store would, really, be doing everyone a favour.
Plus, he could get out some anger.
The pulse that he sends to the front door flows purple in the dim light, bursting through it's metal like a small bomb. The alarms go off, as expected, but Richie's heard those go off so many times in the past year that he's able to ignore them.
His heel meets a display case and it shatters beneath the weight. Rings scatter and rattle around inside. A flick of his wrist and another case on the other side of the room explodes into microscopic shards. This is the glittering Richie prefers: broken glass, the only coloring coming from blood.
He can hear the sirens now, but Hatchetfield cops never did much to stop him.
He kicks another few cases and explodes the others. The alarm mixes well with the sirens and soon red and blue lighting accompanys the music and he smiles. He hears the footsteps approach as he takes a step onto the display case, not caring if he steps on the overpriced earrings that were once contained within it. He turns around and meets eyes with officer Sam Sweetly.
He new officer Sweetly, who didn't. He knew that he was a cheating asshole that ordered one too many sweet coffees and flirted with Zoey on her shift despite the wedding ring on his finger. Richie heard things in whispers and in conversations he wasn't a part of. Things like how officer Sweetly was supposed to be fixing his marriage while flirting with college girls. It made Richie sick.
Despite this, he smiles and bows. "Officer!" He cheers. "Wonderful evening to see you!"
Richie jumps off the display and his grin grows as Sweetly takes a step back. For an officer of the law, he sure does look pale already. Richie's not even killed anyone yet.
"You're under arrest."
Richie scoffs. "Sure I am." He smiles, putting both wrists together and leaning forward. "Go on. Come cuff me, officer." He puts a fake pout on his face. Sweetly even lowers his gun.
Richie rolls his eyes and turns around, dropping his hands. He jumps back on top of the display, kicking jewelry off of it this time. His silhouette flickers in and out of view in the red and blue and he laughs. This is what his life is. He chose this path and he will revel in it.
A small muttered "thank god" from Sweetly gives the tell that another party has just entered the fray. Richie bends backwards and is faced with the - now upside down but - ever so irritating presence of Hatchetfield's biggest hero. Spectre, stupid name by the way, he was only a ghost half the time, stood like he was fed up in the doorway. He probably was. And that made Richie grin widely.
He stands back up properly as he turns to face Spectre. He grins and Spectre rolls his eyes. "What're you doing, Flow?" Oh he even sounded pissed. Richie grinned.
"Just a little bit of browsing." He bent at the knees to pick up a long silver necklace. He hummed before turning to Spectre with a smile. "Not my color." He dropped the necklace to the floor with a false forlorn sigh.
He then stretched out his hands, and as the bones cracked inside, a pulse of purple energy shot out and set the police car ablaze. Sweetly made a barely audible high pitched scream and Richie cackled.
Spectre was approaching slowly, like he had all the time in the world. And Richie just jumped behind the other side of the display he was stood on. This is what he needed to de-stress.
He continued to walk backwards until his back hit the wall, grinning all the while. When it looked like he was cornered, Richie watched as Spectre's hand grew heavier, his shoulder shifting to accommodate the weight.
This was a waiting game-
Now!
Richie sent a pulse at the hand with increased mass, sending Spectre back as he ran in the opposite direction out to the back of the store and up the fire escape to the roof.
It was cloudy, and Richie grinned, arms outstretched as the beginnings of rain started to patter down on his face.
Spectre followed not long after, water phasing through his now translucent body. Spectre looked stupid, in that lower face mask and goggles, hair dampening in the rain. Being a hero kind of required them to be physically fit. Richie just got to smile and make a fool of himself and as long as he caused enough distraction, then he'd be a worthy opponent.
It was almost like high school.
Except he could punch back now.
A fist-fight broke out, heavy hands landing on Richie's skin and pulses against Spectre instead of his own.
The rain got heavier and Richie felt his foot slip a few times. If he wasn't careful, he could fall off this roof.
The fight continued. Richie sends a right hook with more power than he'd thought he'd had into Spectre's jaw, knocking him back a few steps. He runs to the edge of the roof, taking a footstep up.
Wet footsteps follow him to the edge. He looks behind him. Solid hands yank him back onto the roof, leaving phantom heat in their wake. Richie growls and kicks at Spectre, taking a few steps away in the clearing he had been given. Spectre closes it easily, though, light on his feet. He returns the punch to Richie's jaw, catching his nose in the process. Richie cups it, blood falling into his hand. One incorrect inhale later, blood also drips from his mouth.
He looks up from where he's tilted down to face Spectre, who's hesitating. Richie grins, bloody teeth and all, shaking out his hands and making the roof beneath them shake as he does so. He spits onto the ground and flicks his hand at Spectre, knocking him to one side with a burst of energy.
The shock leaves Spectre on the ground and Richie laughs, running off in the time he was given.
Richie really didn't want to be a bad person.
But man, was it fun to be one.