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In this world of constant Good vs Evil, Heroes and Villains roamed and fought like mad dogs all over the city day in and day out. Every person under those careers had scars and stories with them, traumas hidden from public eyes and ordinary lives hidden in plain sight. There are not very many people they can talk to, even their coworkers and fellow heroes or villains wouldn't be able to completely understand.
This left a very niche profession open.
"Come right in," the calm and pleasant voice filled with potential secrets and hidden intentions invited a person into an office space with books lining the walls and plenty of comfy seating for any guests who enter. The man behind the voice was tiny, only 4 inches shy of 5 feet, and unassuming in his turtleneck sweaters and little glasses that framed his Aryan eyes.
The person walked in, their air of uncertainty making it obvious that this was their first time in this room. They followed the lead of that small man over to that stereotypical long chair that patient's lay on, where they sat down and watched the little man settle into the chair in front of them.
A small smile rested on his face as he looked at the patient, "It's nice to finally meet you today! I'm Dr. Augustine Arrindale, or simply Dr. August, as it's easier to say."
This was the typical day, with patients coming in and out for their appointments and occasional drop-ins. They'd enter in and be greeted by the psychiatrist of the tiny variety, lay or sit themselves down and spill their problems, big and small, to him. Whether it was one session or multiple, double A was happy to listen and make his suggestions and solutions once the patient was ready for them, unless he had driven the conversation so that they figured it out themselves. No matter what, he was helping those who couldn't normally talk about certain things.
This profession was a good match, after he was not able to physically be a hero. He had no powers nor was he built to be a strong broad muscular person like some, but he had a mind that could really think around people, which led him to this. It was wonderful to exercise his brain and this work always let him see the most interesting situations of people trying to live in this evolving society. Like this, he sees both sides of the divided spectrum..
Though, it comes with its dangers. He hasn't had very many problems with heroes or villains attempting to extort information out of him, since he has his disclosures in place and thankfully many seem to have a respect for the man who often works with their colleagues. But there's no entire way to be immune to harassment.
Like when the doctor walks home from his office in the evening, only to get cornered a bit by some less than savory persons. The sun crisped the edges of towering buildings with glints of red and orange as the small man walked on the sometimes uneven sidewalks. The traffic from the work shift change passed him by as he wandered around other folks that are out and about. No rush in his steps, taking his time to enjoy the bits of things he'd hear from gossiping neighbors, seeing the alley cats scurrying around trash bins to catch rodents, kids running around street lights while playing tag and chasing each other, letting his hand gently run over flowers in window boxes and small gardens along the way. The life in this city was beautiful and he found it to be wasteful to have to rush home and miss it all.
So it wasn't too surprising when this doctor walked home through the streets, taking in the bustled city sights, only to be yanked roughly into an alley and shoved haphazardly against a brick wall. It knocked some breath from him, but he knew better than to give too much reaction. His eyes, which had shut tight out of pain, cracked open to look up at his harassers.
Two men stood in front of him, looming over in an intimidating manner with dark looks in their eyes. One loomed over him, an arm on the wall above his tiny stature and the other out to the side, so that this man could gesture when he eventually would start talking. The other man, tucked behind the first, had a weapon in his hand, a pipe about the size of his forearm that he plopped and finicked with in the hand that didn't hold it. Clearly, he was being threatening while the one right before the doctor was going to try to be suave with an intimidating aura, or at least try to be.
“Well, lookie here,” the close man began, “S’ a pretty proper looking boy, isn't it?”
“... On my way somewhere from work..” August knew not to say directly where he was going, as a lot of these people would take his answer of going home and send him on his way to stalk him back there. Even mentioning he left work was a bit dangerous, as sometimes they think great amounts of money are on his person, but leaves the option of his disappearance being noticed easily.
“Seems like nothin’ too important, then. Min’ if we take you on a detour for a bit?”
“I would rather you not,” August tried to stay firm in his calmness.
“Don't be so stiff, Doc! You're off shift now, s’ you gots some time on your hands.”
The man's face was cracked with a smile as he shifted his arm off the wall above the Doctor. His body moved to the side to do a move that was a bit familiar, the whole slip and arm across your victim's shoulder to make you seem friendly while they try to convince you of something. It was bizarrely common and almost cliché, at least to August.
The small man shifted away on the wall, keeping his thoughts open on the peripheral vision of a potential opening that might pop up for him to dash back out onto the street. Unfortunately, he could glimpse the man being a bit keen on his usual getaway tactic, keeping his body too close to the wall as he came up from August on the side, blocking escape. He was coming to terms with the fact that he probably would have to play along and go with them to even get a chance to get out of this, despite this putting him in more danger.
“No need to go, Doc. We ain't gonna do anythin’ to ya.. as long as you work wit’ us.”
August wasn't looking at the other man, but he could hear the slap of metal on skin as he must have plopped the pipe into his hand to make their point. He couldn't help the light chill starting to flare on his back..
With all the intimidation and chatter, the group didn't hear the loud bootsteps from the streets. Only when a hand gripped the back of the man's shirt and yanked him back towards his partner on the other side of the alley. It was actually surprising that the hand released the man, as August now had his attention on the new addition to this little alley meeting. The large man was one he vaguely recognized as a pseudo hero, an anti-hero or vigilante if you will, with piercing blue eyes and false black hair with bits of light reddened roots starting to show through, but only barely. From what it seems, the only defense this man has was a knife strapped to his hip, but it wasn't like he needed it.
“Th’ hell?!” The man balanced himself, pissed at this interruption.
“What's th’ big idea, bud?! Can't ya see we're talkin’ here!”
The men puffed up, squaring up as the tension in the air was clear.
“.. I don't think he wants to talk to you if you have to have him against the wall,” his voice was deep and crackling, not out of fear. As August observed him, he noticed the scar across the new stranger's neck, old and faded but from what he could tell it caused problems with vocal cords back when it was fresh.
“Oh yeah? An’ what ar’ you gonna do abou’ it?” The thug's face scrunched up, hand grabbing for his own knife out of his back pocket.
A mostly black dyed eyebrow raised, “.. What do you think I'm going to do?”
The big man's hands didn't go to the weapon at his side, instead coming up to crack his knuckles.
The man with the knife lunged first, attempting to slash at the hero wherever he could get. This did not go well as he was easily out done and combatted. The knife was dropped from a strong grip and the man was thrown further into the alley, right into the metal trash cans.
The pipe man similarly charged with at least a bit more tact, but was just as easily thwarted by being tossed into the wall near the trash cans.
With the criminals incapacitated, the large man looked to the doctor,
“.. Are you alright?”
August untensed and stood up straight, gently brushed himself off,
“Yes. Yes, I'm quite alright now.”
His blues came up to meet the heroes and a small smile curled across his face,
“Thank you.”
The piercing gaze of the hero softened a bit, the thanks of the tiny man being taken to heart,
“Of course, sir..”
It was easy to tell that he wasn't used to taking thanks, many more middle grounded heroes tend to be like that. So the doctor wanted to keep it up for a bit longer,
“If you're not too busy, you can walk with me to my home, just to make sure I get there without more problems.”
“Mm.. I think I've got the time,” He cracked his own smile and gestured for August to go ahead out of the alley.
The small man chuckled a bit, walking back into the dimming light of the city with only a slight glance back to confirm the hero wandering up behind him. Both settled into walking side by side, with August introducing himself a bit and chatting up his savior of the day as they wandered down the city street towards the home of the doctor…