Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The streets lay silent and abandoned, devoid of the usual hustle. Each whisper of the breeze echoed through the emptiness, creating a hushed symphony that seemed to provide ease amidst Scarlett City's usual clutter. This peaceful moment marked the city's traditional dead hour, providing a opportunity for Scar to keep watch atop the courthouse rooftop.

Stretching out on the cold cement, Scar gazed up at the starless sky with a mixture of boredom and vigilance. It was late, and Scar had been stationed here for nearly two hours patiently waiting for word about any ongoing activity, but there had been nothing but silence.

The courthouse roof provided little comfort, with its unforgiving surface lacking any amenities except a minimal guardrail. Scar tolerated the discomfort only because it provided him with a strategic vantage point in the city's heart, allowing him to keep a close eye on the streets.

Yet, despite the peace of the dead hour, Scar couldn't shake his weariness for this lull in activity. In his experience, dead hour could be a double-edged sword, sometimes living up to its name, but just as often becoming the stage for unexpected madness.

Over the years, Scar had learned to accept that he couldn't control when or where crime would strike, nor could he dictate its outcome. All he could do was remain vigilant, ready to spring into action at a moment's notice, and hope for the best possible outcome – to swiftly address the issue and aid the city he swore to protect. Despite its challenges, Scar knew that this was his duty, and he embraced it with determination and commitment.

"HotGuy," Scar's attention spiked at the sound of Cub's voice echoing through his earpiece. "Silent motion alarms activated in the confidential archives. You need to move fast before anything valuable disappears.. the press would have a field day with that one."

"On it," HotGuy replied briskly, grabbing his bow and swiftly locating a nearby building ledge to hook his grapple onto.

For the uninformed, the confidential archives housed vital government documents and records crucial for the city's operations. Therefore any breach would cause an issue.

In less than two minutes, HotGuy arrived at the scene. Silently, he slipped through a roof-mounted trapdoor and found himself in the confines of a janitor's closet. His familiarity with the building's layout from previous encounters lent him a confident edge as he prepared to confront whatever threat awaited within.

Stepping out of the closet, HotGuy moved with caution, his senses keen and his bow at his side. Each step was measured as he navigated the dimly lit halls, his eyes scanning for any signs of movement.

The building lay shrouded in darkness, the only illumination filtering in through the windows from the glow of streetlamps outside. HotGuy was on the verge of dismissing the call as a false alarm when he heard a faint shuffling sound that sent a jolt of adrenaline coursing through his veins.

"There it is." he thought to himself. Pausing in his tracks as he listened intently. With precision born of experience, he pinpointed the sound and made his way towards a distant backroom, where the faint glow of moonlight revealed a figure hunched over, rifling through drawers with purpose.

As HotGuy observed from the doorframe, he noted the intruder's smaller stature and the unmistakable presence of wings sprouting from his back. It was clear that this was no ordinary trespasser – this was someone from the underworld with a specific agenda.

Scar frowned, steadying his breath before addressing the trespasser. "Excuse me," he began softly, but even his gentle tone seemed to startle the hybrid lurking in the shadows. The man with wings jumped, spinning around in surprise, his feathers bristling defensively.

Observing the intruder's appearance, Scar took mental notes. Compared to most hybrids, this one appeared more human, dressed in solid black attire with dirty blonde hair, bright purple eyes, and wings adorning both his back and head. Heavy makeup obscured the upper half of his face, and he wore gloves, a clear attempt at stealth.

Despite Scar's presence, the man resumed his search as if HotGuy wasn't even there, a clear display of disregard. "Well, that was rude. You are aware you're not legally allowed to be here, let alone are you really legal at all.." HotGuy remarked, his tone measured but firm as he reminded the man of the law.

It had been over 14 years since the prohibition against individuals from the undercity entering the overworld was passed, strictly because hybrids were perceived as threats to human safety.

"Walk the other way," the unidentified man muttered bluntly, his voice tinged with a hint of accent, despite the slight distortion from a voice reflector.

"I'm afraid I can't do that," HotGuy replied sternly, his determination unwavering despite the growing annoyance in the winged man's conduct. The distraction was clearly interfering the intruder's search, much to his frustration.

"It wasn't an option," the avian retorted, his irritation palpable as he finally laid eyes on a document titled 'Undercity Feathers' – this was the files he had been searching for.

"Mine wasn't an option either," HotGuy opposed, edging closer as tension crackled between them. The winged man scoffed dismissively.

"Guess that'll be a problem then, huh?" he remarked, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

"Guess so," Scar shot back, relishing the opportunity for dialogue as a diversion and a chance to glean insight into his enemy's mindset.

"Undercity avian. Can't get an ID since he's masked, but based on my knowledge, half-bird, half-human. No immediate combat concerns, just a flight advantage. But if he's involved with the Watchers, then he might be a threat. Be cautious," Cub advised through HotGuy's visor, monitoring the situation closely.

Scar huffed at the mention of the Watchers, his distrust evident. He had heard the term before so he was aware of what this vigilante could be capable of.

"I'm not hurting anybody, nor am I destroying buildings or homes. I'm simply retrieving a few papers on a matter irrelevant to you and the overworld." he paused, "So tell me, why does it concern you to stop me?" the winged man inquired, his voice laced with a seductive echo that hinted at hidden depths.

"The name of this building has 'confidential' in its title, and its government-owned property. What else is there to explain? Whatever you want to take is undoubtedly important and necessary, just like any other document in this room," Scar reasoned, his tone still remain firm.

The man merely hummed in response. "Hm. How informative." he tilted his head slightly.

"Look, as much as I'd love to sit and chit-chat, you can't be in here. So I can either escort you out peacefully or forcefully. Your choice," Scar stated more seriously, his patience wearing thin. The other male only scoffed as he gathered the papers he needed.

"I don't want to chit-chat with you. I intended on leaving as soon as I got what I needed," the avian declared, waving the stack of articles at the hero before placing them on a nearby desk. With a sly smirk, he approached Scar, who visibly tensed at the proximity.

Scar backed up, a mixture of offense and nervousness clouding his body. Why was he nervous? He reminded himself that he could handle this situation easily if necessary. HotGuy gripped his bow, ready for any altercation.

As the avian continued to advance, HotGuy retreated further while loading his bow. "I see you were never taught manners?"

"Oh, I have manners. But I plan on leaving here without being apprehended, and you seem to be in my way. Therefore, my manners while speaking to you are irrelevant," the avian retorted, his smirk growing more pronounced.

"Well I hate to break it to you, but you broke into a government building willingly. That alone is reason enough to take you in, especially considering you're not even in the correct world," Scar asserted, his tone unwavering despite the tense standoff.

"Quit chit chatting Scar, the cops are in route." cubs voice was serious through his ears although scar dismissed his demand.

The man narrowed his purple eyes, standing boldly in front of HotGuy rather fearlessly. "You are full of yourself. But as I said before, I don't wanna chit-chat with you."

"Then let's go," Scar responded, his stance firm as he prepared to take the intruder into custody, his aim unwavering. They stood mere feet apart.

"No, only me," the avian declared before lunging forward at Scar, clapping his hands harshly over Scar's ears before HotGuy could react.

Suddenly, HotGuy's world spun into chaos, his senses overwhelmed by a deafening ringing in his ears. He stumbled back, disoriented and bewildered, as the winged man took advantage of this distraction to slip away into the night.

In the chaos of the moment, Scar didn't realize that this was watcher magic, a tactic taught for advantage. Panic surged through him as he dropped his bow and arrow, stumbling backward and clutching at his ears.

He remembers Cub calling for him, but it was faint due to the noise. While struggling to maintain focus, HotGuy fought to keep his eyes open, desperate to prevent this hybrid from escaping. But the ringing only grew louder, overwhelming his senses until he found himself on the ground, paralyzed by the sound.

After what felt like an eternity, the ringing began to subside, and Scar slowly regained his senses. But by the time he managed to gather himself, he realized the winged man was long gone, vanished without a trace.

Scar groaned, rubbing his forehead still processing what just transpired. "Scar? can you hear me? are you alright?" Cubs voice was worried but finally heard.

Hotguy stood to his feet entirely before noticing the blue glare coming from outside. he sighed loudly, "What just happened Cub...?"

Chapter Text

"Good morning, Grian?" Scar's sudden voice jolted Grian awake as he had been previously dozing off at the break room table. Initially startled, Grian relaxed upon realizing it was just his co-worker, Scar, who greeted him with a smile.

"Yeah, sorry," Grian cleared his throat, nonetheless still feeling embarrassed. "Good morning," he replied, rubbing his eyes and adjusting his posture. Scar raised an eyebrow before wheeling himself into the room, holding two empty coffee cups, one likely for himself and the other for someone else.

Grian hadn't seen Scar in a couple of days due to their busy schedules, especially with the new semester starting, making the past week particularly hectic for everyone on campus.

While yawning, the blonde realized he still had half an unfinished egg biscuit to eat and a quarter cup of coffee to drink. He gave a frustrated shrug.

"Rough night last night?" Scar asked, noticing Grian's tired demeanor. Grian quickly fabricated an excuse as Scar headed for the coffee table to fill the cups.

"Just grading. Stayed up later than I should have," he lied, though Scar nodded in understanding as he poured coffee from the pot and found lids for the cups.

Over the past 8 months, Grian had been teaching architecture as a college professor, while Scar, his co-worker had been teaching for nearly 2 years. Scar taught various classes based around technology programming and engineering.

Much to his surprise, Grian had genuinely learned a lot from Scar, things he would have never been able to comprehend without the knowledge. Grian had also noticed that, despite Scars' disability, the man's cheerful personality never wavered, regardless of the situation.

Scar always tried to see the good in things, or as some say the 'brighter side.'

"Well, make sure to drink water and not just caffeine," Scar advised, nodding his head toward the coffee cup beside Grian before wheeling up to the table. Grian smiled at his concern before Scar continued.

"And don't overwork yourself either. I do not want another Mumbo passing out situation with you," Scar said, referring to a previous incident that had left them both concerned.

Mumbo was also a co-worker friend of theirs who taught science engineering. He had been hired shortly after Scar. The trios classrooms were conveniently close to one another, which is why the three knew each other as well as they did.

"Oh no, I don't plan on letting myself get that bad." Grian replied. Awkwardly laughing as he recalled how scary that situation had been in the moment.

"Yeah, that was something else," Scar added.

"Thank you for your concern, but I should be fine," Grian assured again. Scar nodded before checking his watch.

"Speaking of Mumbo, this is his coffee, and I need to take it to him. I have class in 10 minutes so i'm gonna get going. Try to have a decent day." Scar said, waving a small goodbye as he wheeled out with the coffee cups.

Grian waved back, sighing as he recollected the events of the previous night. He still had twenty minutes until his next class, but he decided to go ahead to his classroom instead of dwelling in the break room. He quickly threw away his remains of breakfast and headed out.

On the way down the active hallways filled with students waiting for their classes, Grian pulled his phone from his pocket noticing he had multiple unread messages from his brother, Jimmy.

The first message Grian received was a link to a news article, followed by a barrage of messages questioning his actions. "Was this you? What the hell Grian? Are you crazy? Do you realize how much risk you put yourself in? What would you have done if they caught you? I leave for two days on a business trip and you already are doing ridiculous things! Answer me."

Before responding, Grian clicked on the link to the news article. The headline read, "Confidential Archives Breach: Documents Stolen." As he scrolled through the article, Grian couldn't help but shake his head at how easily a situation could be misconstrued. He almost wanted to laugh at the article's inaccuracies.

The article went on to describe how authorities were withholding information about the stolen documents and criticized the city's superhero and police for their lack of security. It mentioned that the perpetrator was described as a blonde male, but Grian knew they wouldn't disclose any details about him being a hybrid only to avoid causing further turmoil within the community.

Grian reached his classroom and settled into his desk, contemplating his response to Jimmy. Jimmy was a detective, so he wasn’t dumb. He knew how to connect dots and when word got around the office that a hybrid had stolen documents regarding the undercity, he knew immediately. Grian wasn't overly concerned though, knowing that hybrids like himself could easily conceal their wings. Besides, he had confidence in what magic he knew to handle his situation.

Deciding to wait and address the matter in person rather than over the phone, Grian typed out a brief message: "Can we discuss this in person?" Jimmy responded with a simple "okay," prompting Grian to set his phone aside.

Grian's brother, Jimmy, had been away on a business trip for the last week and a half, with two more days left to go. This gave Grian enough time to come up with an excuse for his actions. However, in the meantime, he needed to focus on preparing lessons for his classes this week.

The day flew by for Grian, with his classes running smoothly like any other day. Still feeling exhausted, he didn't hesitate to leave work as soon as his last class ended. Although, upon reaching his apartment,he spotted a familiar car parked out front.

Seated in the car was Scott, Jimmy's boyfriend. It was hard to miss Scott's bright teal hair. Grian assumed Jimmy had sent him to check on him. Scott smiled once he realized Grian was home and got out of his car seconds after Grian did.

"Hey, Grian," Scott greeted with a wave and cheery tone.

While Grian had no issues with Scott, he couldn't help but feel a little annoyed that Jimmy sent him to check on him. Did Jimmy not think he was responsible enough to handle his own situation? "Hey, Scott," Grian sighed but smiled. "I assume Jimmy sent you here to check on me?"

"Nooo, of course not! I just came to check on my friend!" Scott playfully lied, evidently lighting Grian's mood with the unserious attitude. Grian shook his head and stifled back a laugh before gesturing for Scott to follow him up the stairs to his apartment.

The two waited for further conversation until they made it inside his home, mindful not to let passersby overhear them. Grian took his shoes off at the door, but Scott kept his on.

"Do you want anything to drink?" Grian quickly offered, wanting to maintain good manners toward his brother's boyfriend.

"I'm good, I don't think I'm gonna stay too long. Don't wanna take up your entire evening. Thank you, though." Scott dismissed with a wave of his hand. Grian nodded and went to sit on his couch as he took his coat off.

"Go ahead then, tell me what brings you here." Grian spoke, changing the mood instantly. Scott shrugged.

"I'm not here to lecture you, I promise. Personally, I think what you did was good. However, you know how Jimmy is. He's worried," Scott confessed.

Grian was ultimately surprised that Scott wasn't aggravated, but then again, Scott knew the situation better than anyone else and always wanted what was safest for Jimmy.

Jimmy and Scott had met not long after Grian and Jimmy had come to the Overworld. Scott was one of the first people they had met and one of the first people to show them kindness. Grian had immediately noticed the strong liking Jimmy had for Scott. And when Grian found out that the two had officially started dating, he wasn't surprised, but he was happy it was Scott and not somebody random.

Scott was the only human who knew they were hybrids, and they quite frankly trusted Scott with their lives.

"Yeah, I know. He was blowing up my phone this morning," Grian informed.

"He called me on the way to work, panicking. He was wanting to come home because he thinks every time he leaves, you go and do dumb things," Scott quoted, trying his best not to sound rude or offend Grian. "I think it was dangerous, sure, but it was something that needed to be done and with the whole situation that happened last month, I'm thankful you did what you did."

Last month, there was a rather unsettling incident involving Jimmy and Scott. The pair had gone out to a bar one evening, where Jimmy, after one too many shots, got into an argument with a much larger man. In the heat of the moment, Jimmy accidentally exposed his wings in a defense manner, drawing attention to their hybrid nature. The situation escalated to the point where the police was called, but Scott managed to intervene and whisk them away before the authorities arrived. Fortunately, most of the witnesses were too intoxicated to provide accurate descriptions.

Adding to their stroke of luck, the bar's security cameras were outdated, offering little assistance in identifying Scott and Jimmy. However, one lingering piece of evidence kept the case open: 2 photos captured from behind and one 16 second video, clearly showing Jimmy's bright yellow wings. It was clear evidence. Clear proof that it wasn't fake or edited, it was real. Despite this, their faces remained obscured thanks to the crowd, leaving their identities shrouded in mystery. But to take precautionary measures, the two decided to change their appearance by dyeing their hair to remain unfound.

Since both of them had naturally brown hair, Scott took the bold step of bleaching his hair and dyeing it teal, embracing a dramatic change. Meanwhile, Jimmy opted for a simpler approach by just going blonde. Which suited him well.

Grian frowned, "It's not like they needed those files anyways. Most of it was just nonsense. Hopefully it'll set them back from finding and closing the tunnels though. And hopefully put Jimmy at less risk." the blonde lightly rambled.

Between both worlds stood tunnels that the government hadn't found yet. In recent years, they had been getting close to finding them, causing concern among those who used the tunnels.

Ultimately, Grian would be hailed as a hero to the people who used the tunnels.

"Nonsense?" Scott raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah. No offense to you, Scott, but humans are not the brightest when it comes to comprehending the two worlds," Grian explained with a huff. Scott nodded in agreement.

"They all just want to assume and make up accusations and stereotypes that aren't even true! Like, I remember reading one statement about how all of us are born blood killers. It's just not true, and even you know that, Scott," he informed. His tone clearly distressed despite his

"I know, Grian. It's not fair to you all. Long shot though, is it possible I could read some of the files? If that's okay with you, of course," Scott asked, curious to mainly see what was documented of Jimmy. Grian nodded before standing up.

"Yeah, I'm going to go change though, they're in the safe. Don't be a stranger Scott, you know I don't mind." Grian told. Scott smiled at the comment. He knew where his safe was and knew the password. Like stated before, Scott, Jimmy, and Grian were all incredibly close, even though Scott was still hesitant around Grian.

Later that evening, from another vantage point, Hotguy perched atop a building, legs swinging over the edge as he observed the sun sinking below the horizon. Despite the fading light, the city below remained bustling with activity, crowds of people still traversing the streets. He simply sat, observing silently from his elevated position.

His thoughts drifted back to the altercation from the previous night, a nagging puzzle he couldn't quite solve. How had he allowed himself to be outmaneuvered? What trick had the unknown hybrid used to bypass his technology? Despite the strength and protection from Scars enhancements, both Cub and Scar were puzzled by the man's stunt.

When Scar had first started his superhero gig last year, he knew he wouldn't be able to do it alone. Cub, his bestfriend, had played a crucial role in enhancing his body's capabilities with fluids and injections, making him stronger and more resilient. Scar focused on refining the technology and apprehending criminals, while Cub worked behind the scenes and made the enhancements fluids.

Scar's braces, crafted by his own hands, worked in tandem with Cub's regenerative fluids, injecting a constant stream of serum into Scar's knees and legs which ensured his mobility and stability in the face of danger. Without them, he wouldn't be capable of even walking.

His iconic bow and arrow was acquired by Cub in earlier years. However it remained shrouded in mystery regarding its origins. Nonetheless, it proved to be an admirable weapon, granting Scar precise aim and accuracy in combat.

Together they had made Scar's visor, and it possessed all kinds of perks. It was basically a cheat sheet to success. Cub could monitor his actions via visor and would often guide him through an ear piece. The visor was capable of accessing injury's and was capable of directing him during combat. It could also identify individuals and unknown objects and so on.

As Hotguy's reputation grew, so did the government's interest in his abilities. After apprehending several notorious villains, the government sought to collaborate with him, offering financial incentives and access to privileged information. Although Scar was undoubtably weary about their full intentions, he ultimately accepted their offer to avoid potential repercussions.

Although Scar would never admit it, he loved the fame that came with being a superhero. Despite the occasional setbacks, Scar cherished his role gravely. He found purpose in protecting the city and took pride in being a symbol of hope for its civilians.

However, the events of the previous night weighed heavily on his mind. He felt responsible for the disappointment within the community, even though they didn't know the full story.

"Hotguy, there's some commotion downtown. Some guys are trying to rob people," Cub's voice crackled over the earpiece. Scar snapped out of his thoughts and stood up, tapping his earpiece to reply.

"Got it, on my way."

With a sense of purpose renewed, Scar set off to fulfill his duties with no hesitation. As always, he was ready to confront whatever challenges lay ahead, no matter what the extent was.

Chapter Text

Visibly tired, Scar persisted in jogging on the treadmill, his braces firmly in place. Inside Cub's laboratory, there was a designated gym space tailored specifically for Scar to workout in. It was typical for Scar to engage in workouts, he valued staying in shape, especially when fitness was important within his line of work.

Trickles of sweat glistened on his forehead as he fought through the weakness in his legs, focusing intently on his breaths. He had been at it for nearly two hours straight. Despite the support of his braces and injections, the relentless grind was taking its toll, leaving him feeling increasingly drained.

"Scar," Cub's voice filled the room, catching Scar off guard as he hadn't heard Cub enter. "Take a break. Let's go grab some lunch."

With a sigh, Scar switched off the treadmill and reached for his water bottle. After taking a gulp of water he searched for a towel on a nearby shelf to wipe off the sweat. "Sure, but can I go shower first? I'm kinda gross."

Cub gave him a half smile before nodding. "Of course. Just meet me upstairs when you're ready," he said before leaving the room.

Scar quickly freshened himself up and extracted his braces so he could transition into his wheelchair. Once situated, he made his way to the elevator to meet Cub upstairs. Upstairs was Cubs natural home while beneath his home, deep in the ground, existed Cubs laboratory. To keep it short Cub was a very wealthy man deeming his engineering skills.

"Ready?" Cub asked upon Scar's arrival. Scar simply nodded, following him out to the waiting car.

The car ride passed uneventfully, filled with small chatter and complaints about how the traffic had been terrible the last few days. Scar mostly kept to his phone, lost in articles and statements concerning the recent documents theft. The fact that he had allowed the vigilante to escape weighed heavily on his mind and the community comments didn't make it any better. It wasn't until they reached the chosen restaurant that anything of significance was discussed.

Seated at a table in the diner, Cub's started conversation with a direct question while Scar was still lost in his phone. "What's on your mind?" Cub asked, catching Scar off guard. He put his phone down almost immediately and tilted his head slightly.

Scar hesitated before responding, "What do you mean?"

"You've been... distant," Cub explained, his suspicion evident. "You're acting like something's bothering you."

"Ah, well," Scar replied, glancing around cautiously to ensure their privacy before continuing. "The vigilante, he's still out there. I'm concerned he'll be a problem down the line," he spoke in a hushed tone.

Cub nodded in understanding. "It's not your fault he got away. As I mentioned that night, I suspect he used watcher magic, which is nearly impossible to bypass, but I'm still looking into it."

"What am I supposed to do if I encounter him again? Just let him escape again? What if he has bigger plans?" Scar's frustration tinged his voice due to his overthinking.

"Scar," Cub interjected, his tone gentle yet firm. "Do remember you are stronger than most," Cub reassured Scar in a low voice but as a waitress approached their table, Cub was cut short from finishing his sentence.

"What would you guys like to drink?" the waitress asked kindly.

"Water, please," both Scar and Cub replied simultaneously, prompting the waitress to swiftly retreat.

Once the woman was gone, Cub shrugged. "I'm still digging into it, but accurate information on the undercity is hard to come by. I know the people have been talking, but they don't have the entire story either. You handled the situation the best you could, and that's what counts."

"I stalled," Scar admitted, his tone tinged with self-criticism. "If I hadn't talked as much and had just took him in, then maybe he wouldn't have gotten away." he huffed in disappointment.

"It's good to talk so you can know their intentions and figure out a good way to compromise." Cub reasoned, "Rushing in blindly to an unknown situation could have ended in greater harm."

"Yeah," Scar sighed. "I know you're right but it's still going to nag at me." He confessed.

"Try to look forward, I'm sure he will turn up again and hopefully by then we'll have a way to protect you from his powers." Cub reassured with a smile that ultimately made Scar smile in return.

Scar was grateful for Cub's presence throughout it all. he was his best friend. Without Cub, he might have abandoned this job before it even began because he wouldn't be able to do it without him. Having Cub by his side since day one meant everything to Scar and if there was anyone he could trust with his life, it was him.

"Are you insane?!" Jimmy's voice echoed through the room, causing Grian to rub his forehead in frustration. His neighbors surely knew his business now, if they didn't already from Jimmy's previous yelling. Grian had seen this confrontation coming once Jimmy arrived home from his trip, but dealing with it was still a headache.

"Do you realize the danger you put yourself in? What if he had caught you, Grian? It's bad enough with me being seen last month, but now you too! The governor will start suspecting a breach!" Jimmy rambled, pacing back and forth in Grian's living room.

Grian lounged comfortably on his sofa, wings spread out in a relaxed manner, while Scott busied himself in the kitchen preparing lunch. The stolen documents lay spread out on the table in front of the couch, awaiting Jimmy’s inspection.

“We needed these. Even as the lead detective, they still restricted your access to these documents. You were lucky enough that the other investigators in the office didn’t recognize the avian at the bar as their lead detective,” Grian’s voice remained calm but carried a firm message. Jimmy huffed in annoyance, sensing they would continue to go back and forth if he didn’t change the subject.

“Look, you’re right, Grian. It’s great that you took these, but you can’t go around exposing yourself like that, especially when the City has its own Hawkeye!” Jimmy stressed. “His technology surpasses anything a normal human could handle.”

“Well, we’re not exactly human, Jimmy,” Grian reminded.

“Close enough,” Jimmy mumbled.

With a nonchalant shrug, Jimmy approached the table to review the files. As Jimmy read into the documents, Grian observed in silence, glancing at the muted TV and wondering why Jimmy still had his wings concealed. After a moment, Jimmy dropped the papers back onto the table.

“Huh, I really thought there would be more information,” Jimmy confessed.

“That’s what I’ve been saying,” Grian grumbled. “I mean, I broke into a highly secure government building, encountered a supposed superhero, waisted energy on him, and for what? A few details about the tunnels and only two discoveries in the last 50 years?”

Jimmy nodded in disappointment. “I thought there would have been more discoveries but I guess not. Where are my files?” he inquired, and Grian pointed to another stack he had overlooked.

“They had more information about you than anything else, probably because it was more recent,” Grian added. He watched Jimmys expression drop upon reading through them. Grian frowned.

Jimmy loathed the fact he let that whole incident occur. He hated how he let his anger get the best of him, but he knew he had done the right thing because the man he fought had been bothering scott the entire night, and who wouldn’t stick up for their partner?

After examining the pictures that had been taken, Jimmy felt a sense of vulnerability wash over him. It was a mixture of guilt and embarrassment.

He could only remember bits and pieces from that night, but he remembered clearly that feeling of being outcasted by everybody. It wasn’t like humans didn’t know that hybrids existed, it was just diverse and something that was never seen since the law of hybrids being banned existed.

Jimmy recalled the fear in Scott’s eyes as the crowd began hurling insults at them. After that, the memories blurred, and he could only recall the relief of finally making it home that night.

Jimmy set his files down and blinked, provoking Grian to sit up. “Are you alright?” Grian asked.

Jimmy nodded. “Yeah, it just just bothers me sometimes.” He sighed and glanced towards the kitchen, ensuring Scott wasn’t paying attention before continuing. “Scott didn’t deserve any of that, and I wish it never happened. I didn’t mean to yell at you, Grian, or come off as angry. I just don’t want you to go though what I did. Being exposed to the public isn’t exactly pleasant.”

Grian frowned sympathetically. “I understand, Jim, but I can handle myself. And I don’t plan on attracting any more attention. I got what I needed, and that’s all that matters.”

Jimmy smiled upon hearing Grian’s reassurance, even though deep down, neither of them knew it wasn’t entirely true. There stood further threats lurking in the future, but for now, they could savor the moment.

"Hey Jim, could you give me a hand bringing the food to the table?" Scott's voice echoed from the kitchen, and Jimmy waisted no time to assist him.

Together, Scott and Jimmy arranged the plates of food on the table. Scott had prepared cooked salmon and a colorful assortment of sliced fruits.

Scott took pleasure in cooking for others, and Grian didn't mind him doing so even thought it was his apartment because Grian enjoyed his food.

As they all sat at the table and ate, Grian couldn't help but notice the way Jimmy's eyes softened whenever Scott spoke. Grian recognized the unmistakable signs of love in his brother's gaze, and he couldn't help but feel genuinely happy for him.

Grian smiled, Despite occasionally feeling like a third wheel around the couple, they were his family, and he wouldn't trade them for anything else.

Chapter Text

It had been three days since Jimmy returned home from his business trip, and now it had been nearly two days since anyone had heard from him. Grian sat in the break room before class, finishing his breakfast, Mumbo sat silently across from him buried deep in grading last-minute papers.

Grian was scrolling on his phone when abruptly he noticed Scott’s name flash on his screen, he stared for a moment before answering. Scott rarely called, preferring face-to-face interactions for important matters.

“Hello?” Grian’s voice was filled with low concern. He didn’t want to overthink anything.

“Grian?” A sigh emanated from the other end of the line, “I’m sorry to bother you, I know you’re at work but it’s Jimmy.” Scott paused and Grians face dropped. “Have you heard from him? I haven’t seen him since Monday. I’ve tried calling, but he won’t answer. I’m worried.”

Grian’s mind raced immediately as he recalled the timeline: he had broken into the archives last Thursday night, two days before was Jimmy’s return on Saturday. They all had lunch together on Sunday, and Jimmy went to work on Monday but hadn’t returned since. It was now Wednesday.

Grian remained silent for a moment, trying to process the gravity of Scott’s words and formulate a response that wouldn’t worsen Scott’s worry.

Where could Jimmy of gone? It wasn’t like him to just disappear without telling anybody.

Out of curiosity, Mumbo glanced up from his papers and noticed Grians tense expression, he raised an eyebrow as his own expression grew concerned.

“Did he mention anything on Monday?” Grian asked, his voice tinged with unease. Just then, Scar entered the break room, wheeling himself in and greeting the two, but quickly realizing Grian was on the phone, he lowered his voice.

“No, everything seemed normal. I called his office before I called you and they told me he was there on Monday but not on Tuesday. I know I probably should have reached out sooner, but you can’t officially report someone missing until 48 hours,” Scott rambled, the stress evident in his tone.

Grian glanced up at Scar and Mumbo, who were both staring at him with disarray. Feeling embarrassed, he quickly looked away, avoiding their eyes. With just the three of them in the break room, any discomfort was hard to miss.

“Well, it’s been 48 hours. You need to call and make a report. Um…” Grian struggled to find the right words, genuinely trying to figure out the best course of action.

“Do you think something happened? What if someone recognized him from the bar and took him?” Scott’s apprehensive thoughts only added to Grian’s uncertainty.

“I don’t know,” Grian replied quietly, his voice was beginning to waver. He couldn't afford to take off work on such short notice, but he might be able to manage by leaving instructions for a substitute teacher to cover his classes after lunch. “I have a class in 15 minutes, but afterward, I’ll swing by and we can go to the station, alright? I’ll come pick you up at 11. Keep trying to call him.” Grian instructed.

After the call ended, Grian took a deep breath, aware that his friends were likely still watching him with concern. He turned in his chair, ensuring his expression was composed and gave no cause for further worry.

“Everything alright?” Mumbo was the first to inquire.

“Jimmy’s missing,” Grian confessed, watching their expressions shift. They both knew Jimmy, as he was a well-known detective and Grian’s brother. Without another word, Grian stood up, disposing of his breakfast. “I’ve got class, I need to go.”

With that, Grian exited the room, leaving Mumbo and Scar behind, both consumed by surprise. Scar furrowed his brow upon noticing Grian had left his coffee untouched.

“God, that’s gotta be rough. I feel for him and Scott,” Mumbo muttered sympathetically. he slowly moved to stack his papers to get ready to carry to class.

“Hopefully, he turns up. Jimmy’s a smart guy. I’m sure he’s alright,” Scar reassured, wheeling his way to the abandoned coffee cup, which remained full. “I’m going to take this to him and check on him.”

Mumbo nodded in agreement. “Alright, but don’t pressure him to talk. He can be a bit guarded, you know.”

Scar brushed off the advice and made his way to Grian’s class. It was undeniably suspicious that a lead detective was missing, because that didn’t happen often. But Scar intended to look into it further later that evening.

Grian had already sent Jimmy numerous texts, each one a desperate plea for a response, though he knew deep down he wouldn’t receive one back. “Jimmy? Where are you? Scott’s worried. Jim. Jim. Jim. Jim.”

Most of the messages were just spam, attempts to catch Jimmy’s attention, but there was no reply. His mind churned with overthinking, the gnawing feeling that something terrible had happened to Jimmy growing stronger with each passing moment.

A knock on his door interrupted his thoughts. It was Scar, weakly smiling as he held Grian’s familiar cup. Oh, my coffee, Grian thought. He realized he must have forgotten it.

“You forgot this. Thought you might want it,” Scar told, wheeling his way to Grian’s desk and placing the cup in front of him.

“Thanks, Scar,” Grian replied, his voice devoid of emotion.

“Are you alright?” Scar asked directly, knowing the answer was obvious.

Grian swallowed, hating the feeling of pity and sympathy. He straightened his posture, uncomfortable and slightly annoyed. “I’m fine, Scar.”

“Well, I doubt that, but I’m sure Jimmy will turn up. He’s a smart man,” Scar reassured kindly, though Grian both appreciated and resented the gesture.

Grian hated when people felt bad for him. He hated the pity and he hated the feeling of vulnerability.

“I’m sure he will too,” Grian replied dryly, hoping to end the conversation so Scar would leave him alone. It’s not that he didn’t like Scar, he just wanted to be left alone to think until class started.

“If I hear anything or see anything, I’ll let you know. I’m sure he’s alright Grian so try not to overthink it. Try to have a good day Grian.” Scar offered some last words of reassurance before making his way out. Grian only nodded in response, picking up his phone again as Scar left.

Surely, Jimmy was okay.

The night was shrouded in darkness, heavy rain cascading down relentlessly. Despite the dismal weather, Hotguy remained vigilant on patrol. Scar perched on the edge of a building, his hood pulled up to shield himself from the showers. He typically didn't wear the custom HG jacket that went with his suit, but the cold rain compelled him to don it, wary of falling ill from the dampness.

“Do you think he was killed?” Hotguy whispered into his visor, conversing with Cub while he sat bored and unattended. The question was rather dark, but it was still an idea that lingered within his head.

“I’m not sure. I looked into his recent cases, and it doesn’t seem like he would have any enemies. He’s never killed anyone, nor has he arrested anyone with connections to get revenge,” Cub replied.

Scar hummed thoughtfully. “I don’t know, you just don’t disappear,” he sighed, “it’s strange.”

“Definitely,” Cub agreed. Silence settled between them, punctuated only by distant thunder rumbling through the city. Despite Scar’s efforts, he couldn’t uncover much about the missing detective.

The city was quiet tonight. As the hour grew late and the weather worsened, Scar prepared to head home until Cub had a report. “Hey, a call just in. Someone heard what sounded like fighting in that abandoned warehouse on the south end,” Cub informed him.

“But if you’re ready to head home, I suggest you do. I’m sure the police can handle it,” He added. Scar shrugged, torn between the desire to dry off and the responsibility to investigate the disturbance.

As much as he wanted to go home, he knew it would be responsible of him to still check it out.

“I’ll go check it out. I’ll head home after it’s cleared,” Scar decided, rising from the ledge and firing a hook to a nearby building. With determination, he set off through the rain, navigating through the fogginess to reach the warehouse within minutes.

Silently, Scar touched down on the roof, scanning for a window to slip through. He found an entry point onto an open interior balcony with a commanding view of the entire building’s interior. The place was huge but empty, with only walkway balconies overlooking the first floor.

Examining the area, Scar spotted a lit lantern in the center and two individuals on the ground floor. His thermal visor detected two more men further away hidden within the darkness. Silently, Scar descended to lower balconies, edging closer to assess the situation.

As he drew nearer, the sound of argument became audible and he realized that he recognized one of the men —the familiar vigilante with wings, the one from the archives. Hotguy reached the second-floor balcony, concealed from view as he observed from above.

Instantly, the impulse to leap down and apprehend him surged within him, but Cub intervened upon realizing who was there. "Don't rush in. You might alarm him. Listen to what's happening first."

The avian held a piece of paper, thrusting it towards the man below. “This is you, correct? You’re the one who fought him, right?” his voice echoed, reflecting off the walls. The avian wore a different outfit this time, still in all black, but with clothing that defined his body more than before.

“I don’t have to tell you anything. You’re nothing but a monster compared to me,” the unknown man retorted ruthlessly. He had already been knocked on the ground and had clearly taken a couple of hits. he was also tied by the wrist so he didn’t try to attack him.

In the past eight hours, Grian had combed through the files again, uncovering the name of the man Jimmy fought at the bar. He suspected the man’s involvement and located him shortly after. As much as Grian hated to admit it, he had essentially abducted the man off the streets and brought him here for interrogation.

Scar watched as anger contorted the winged man’s face. “You know something, don’t you? You know where he is,” Grian pressed, his tone demanding.

“I don’t know anything. I want nothing to do with you creatures,” the man replied defiantly. It was clear the names were only making him more upset.

Without laying a hand on him, Scar watched as the avian lifted his wrist, using his tricks to forcefully push the man to the ground with an invisible force. With a thud and wince, the man landed on his back.

“Talk. Now. Where is my brother?” Grian threatened, his voice amplified by the voice reflector, sounding more menacing. He kept his hand held up as he intensified the pressure on the man’s chest.

Beneath him, the man wheezed, feeling as though 300 hundred pounds weighed heavily on his chest, even though nothing physical was there.

Scar watched from above, now understanding the situation a little better, he attempted to comprehend the magic the vigilante was using, but he couldn’t grasp it. It was like a scene out of Star Wars.

HotGuy’s attention was diverted as the two men who had been lurking in the distance drew closer to the altercation.

Scar realized they were armed with loaded guns.

“TALK!” The avian’s cry rang, laced with sorrow and desperation. Scar felt a pang of sympathy hearing his voice crack like that.

The man on the ground began to chuckle weakly. “Go to hell, demon,” he gasped. The pressure intensified, but amidst Grian’s fit of rage, desperate to find his brother, he hadn’t noticed the two men sneaking up on him.

Scar swiftly retrieved the bow from his back, loading an arrow and taking aim at the man holding the closest gun to the hybrid. With a quick shot, the arrow snatched the weapon from the man’s hand. Hotguy swiftly fired a second shot within seconds, disarming the second man as well.

The arrows whizzed by, their flight swift and silent. Grian’s attention was caught when he heard the guns hit the ground with a loud clank. Both weapons had metal arrows pierced right through them, a display of impressive accuracy. All eyes turned to the superhero who had fired the arrows.

Scar could vividly recall locking eyes with the avian before anyone else, sensing a hint of gratitude in his bright purple eyes. However, the moment shattered as one of the men lunged at Grian, knocking him to the ground.

As the other man dashed towards the one tied, Scar knew he had to intervene. Ignoring his own safety, he leaped from the balcony, heedless of his landing, focused solely on reaching the avian before it was too late.

Grian grappled with the man and felt his throat become constricted. While struggling to find a way to break free, the assailant was forcefully shoved off him. Gasping for air, Grian watched as Hotguy and the man rolled in a tangle.

Turning his head, Grian saw the other two assailants fleeing. Anger and frustration surged within him as he immediately rose to his feet, intent on chasing them down. However, within the darkness of the building, they vanished from sight.

“No!” Grian’s yell echoed, a mixture of aggravation and sorrow evident in his voice. He turned back to see the two men still clashing until Hotguy finally landed a decisive blow, rendering him unconscious.

Grian stormed angrily towards Hotguy, each step echoing his frustration and pent-up energy. “Why would you do that? I had that under control!” Grian’s voice rang out, fueled by a potent mix of irritation and adrenaline. He knew he had no rational reason to confront the superhero, but at that moment, he needed someone to blame.

“They were going to kill you if I hadn’t intervened! How about a thank you?” Scar retorted, standing up from the scuffle with the defeated man on the ground.

Grian scoffed, feeling a surge of conflicting emotions. He was disappointed that the interrogation didn’t go as planned. And he was mad at himself for letting them get away. Overall, this night seemed pointless to him now, and a waist of time.

Scar didn’t know what had come over him, but something inside him hesitated to arrest the winged man or even lay a finger on him. He could see the pain in the blondes eyes, and the marks on his neck from the man he had just knocked out. And for some reason, Scar just couldn’t bring himself to act against him.

“Why were you trying to kill the guy anyway?” Hotguy persisted, his voice steady and unwavering. Grian instinctively backed up, spreading his wings in alarm, ready to take flight if necessary.

“Why do you care? Weren’t you just trying to arrest me the other day?” Grian muttered, his tone defensive and wary.

“What are you doing, Scar?” Cub’s voice echoed in his earpiece, a reminder of his original intentions. “just talking,” Scar thought, though his response remained unspoken.

“That’s fair, you are illegal after all,” Hotguy acknowledged, “But it sounded like you were looking for somebody. Is someone in danger?” he inquired further.

“I don’t have to tell you anything,” Grian retorted, his voice tinged with defiance.

“No, you don’t. But it’s my job to help the people in need, and you are clearly in need. I want to help,” Hotguy responded earnestly. Grian raised an eyebrow, taking another cautious step backward.

“Why?” he mumbled, his skepticism evident.

“Honestly, I don’t know,” Scar confessed, his own uncertainty surfacing. “I should arrest you, but after watching that whole situation I feel like you’re just misunderstood.”

“You don’t know anything,” Grian retorted, his voice laced with reluctance.

“Then tell me,” Hotguy persisted, his determination unwavering. Scar was stubborn and there was something about the mysterious demeanour the avian gave that compelled him to press on. “I might be able to help you.”

Grian scoffed and shook his head in disbelief. Without another word, the loud beat of his wings filled the air, and he vanished through an open window. Scar watched in awe as he disappeared into the night.

Hey, at least he didn’t use his magic on him this time.

“What was that?” Cub’s voice cut through the silence, its tone neutral yet tinged with curiosity.

“Honestly, I have no idea,” Scar admitted, his curiosity piqued by the mysterious display.

Chapter Text

The following morning was a struggle. Grian decided to take the rest of the week off from work in order to process what had happened and inform Etho and Bdubs of Jimmy's disappearance.

Etho and Bdubs are Jimmy and Grian's adoptive parents. Honestly, it was a long story.

Grian, however, remained in bed for the time being. His body ached from the events of the previous night. He had bruises on his neck from the man strangling him, and his wings were tattered from being pressed against the floor on his back.

Grian found himself perpetually exhausted, especially after exploiting watcher magic. It drained him, leaving him depleted of energy. He sprawled on his stomach amidst a pile of pillows, his head buried, until the faint buzz of his phone on the nightstand wakened him from his weariness. Hope flickered briefly as he reached for it, praying it was Jimmy.

But disappointment settled in as he read the caller's name—Scott.

Sighing heavily, Grian could feel the feathers on his head ruffled and unkempt. With a tired hand, he pushed to accept the incoming call. Each word felt like an added weight to his already burdened shoulders.

"Anything?" Scott's inquiry sounded through the phone, prompting him to lean up from his mattress.

Grian hesitated before recounting the night's events to Scott. "I found the guy, Lance Ryans," he began wearily He ran his free hand through his hair and straightened out his feathers. "I don't believe he has Jimmy, but he's definitely involved. He wouldn't answer any of my questions. He had two others ambush me, but Hotguy intervened."

"Hotguy? Did he try to detain you or them?" Scott pressed for details.

"I think he has one in custody, but Lance and the other guy got away," Grian explained, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice. "I tried to chase them, but they got away. Hotguy surprisingly offered assistance."

"If Hotguy has one of them in custody, maybe he could help," Scott suggested optimistically.

Grian's brow furrowed in uncertainty. "I'm not sure, Scott. Don't forget, I'm considered illegal," he murmured. "And ultimately, Hotguy answers to the government. I doubt he'll be able to do much for us."

"It wouldn't hurt to try, you need to interrogate the guy Hotguy has in custody to see if he knows anything," Scott's voice echoed with a hint of urgency, resembling Jimmy's tone, which didn't sit well with Grian.

"I'm not giving up, Scott. I will find Jimmy," Grian asserted with unwavering determination. Scott's silence on the other end spoke volumes; they were both grappling with the same worries and stresses, consumed by the mystery of Jimmy's whereabouts. "I'm heading back home soon to fill in Etho and Bdubs. Do you want to join?"

"I'll pass. Those tunnels make me sick. Just stay safe and keep me posted," Scott responded swiftly before bidding farewell and hanging up. Grian shrugged, feeling the weight of the day settling upon him, and let out a tired yawn, stretching his wings and arms in preparation for the challenges ahead.

"So you feel bad for him?" Cub attempted to assume, his arms crossed as he observed the scarred man lifting weights in the dimly lit gym.

After wrapping up his work hours as a professor, Scar wanted to get his daily workout in before embarking on his patrol duties.

"Kinda. I don't know, Cub, there's just something different," Scar responded in between each lift, his voice wavering under the strain of the heavyweights.

"What makes it different?" Cub pressed, seeking a full explanation for Scar's decision to let the vigilante escape and offer him help.

"I think he's misunderstood," Scar explained, pausing to catch his breath. "I made eye contact with him. I could see it in his eyes that he was grateful I had saved him. Even though he was angry, there was something there. I know everybody says they're monsters, but he just didn't seem like a monster."

Cub shook his head in disbelief at Scar's justification. "What are we supposed to tell the governor when they ask for your monthly body cam footage?" he asked.

"I was thinking we just delete it. I doubt they would say anything," Scar suggested, dropping the weights and reaching for his water bottle. Despite his sore arms, he was determined to continue working out. He moved to the treadmill.

Cub scoffed, "You do remember he stole documents from the archives, right? What happened to being disappointed you let him get away? Are you under a spell or something?"

"No Cub, I'm fine. I don't know, you just don't understand," Scar responded as he set the treadmill speed and began running, his braces secure on his legs. He was determined to run until time to leave as Hotguy.

"I hope so," Cub sighed. "I never understand you." Scar took a deep breath and focused on his running.

"Do you think he'll come back for information from the one guy you took in?" Cub inquired.

"If he really wants to find whoever he's looking for, yes, I think he will come back," Scar replied with a glimmer of hope in his eyes. Cub nodded solemnly, his brows furrowed in thought.

"Are you only doing this because of Jimmy missing too?" Cub asked, his tone filled with skepticism. Scar raised an eyebrow in response.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it's rather coincidental that Jimmy goes missing, and then you happen to run into this vigilante who's also searching for someone missing. Maybe there's a connection?" Cub suggested, knowing that maybe Scar had assumed the same thing.

"Maybe," Scar conceded, his expression contemplative as he continued to run. "But I doubt he has anything to do with a lead detective. He's probably looking for another hybrid, don't you think? He mentioned family."

Cub shrugged his shoulders, "I’m sure we’ll figure out later on. You leave soon, don't overwork yourself. I'm going to go delete that footage I guess." his tone firm as he exited, leaving Scar to continue running.

Travelling between worlds wasn't as difficult as one might expect.

For Grian, the journey typically began with a five-mile drive out of the city to an abandoned factory housing a concealed tunnel entrance. The entrance, disguised as a sewer drain, revealed a straight descent once the lid was lifted.

Navigating this passage required the ability to fly, making it accessible only to certain hybrids. There were no ladders along the lengthy tunnel, just a direct descent until reaching the portal. Passing through the portal could be the disorientating part, considering once you were through you were going up instead of down.

Once inside the factory, Grian would dispel the magic concealing his wings and ears, gracefully descending headfirst and freefalling until reaching the portal. Once through, he would exert effort to beat his wings and ascend.

Emerging from the portal, he burst out of a similar hidden hole in a back alley. Despite the change in scenery, the feeling of liberation from hiding his true form remained consistent. He loved it.

He adored being able to fly freely, he loved the wind against his skin. He had beautiful raven wings. The flight to Etho & Bdub's home didn't take long from the tunnels, even though their home was kinda deserted from the city.

Touching down on the second-floor balcony, Grian perched on the railings for a moment before gracefully descending to the floor below. The house was adorned with a breathtaking array of moss and flowers, lending it an enchanting ambiance. With a sense of belonging, Grian entered without the need for a formal announcement.

"Grian!" Bdubs exclaimed joyfully, his eyes lit up as he had already spotted Grian landing on the balcony. Springing from the couch in the living space, Bdubs rushed forward to embrace him, his enthusiasm infectious. Grian braced himself, knowing that his news was about to dampen Bdubs' spirits.

A natural whisperer, Bdubs possessed the remarkable ability to coax life from the earth with a mere touch. This gift imbued their home both inside and out with a lush, verdant beauty that was uniquely his. He had a mostly humane appearance, except for a blind eye and a shawl made of moss and flowers.

"Hey," Grian replied, returning the hug with a faint smile on his lips. He cherished the moment, while he could. As he scanned the room, he noticed Etho's absence, prompting him to inquire, "Where's Etho?"

"Oh, he's in the kitchen, cooking," Bdubs replied, stepping back from the hug. "Let me go get him so he can make you something!" With eager steps, Bdubs began to head for the kitchen, but Grian interrupted him.

"I'm good, thank you. But I do need to talk to you guys," Grian interjected, his tone grave. Bdubs sensed the weight of the upcoming conversation.

"Oh," Bdubs murmured, his expression shifting to one of concern. "Okay, let me go get Etho." With a nod, Grian watched as Bdubs hurried off to the kitchen. Taking a moment to survey the living room, he noted the rearranged furniture, a testament to the passage of time since his last visit, nearly 2 months ago. Homecomings were rare for him.

Bdubs returned with Etho, who carried plates of lasagna and bread. As they placed the food on the table, Grian approached awkwardly. Etho was never much of a talker, but Grian had grown accustomed to his quiet demeanour. Even behind his mask, Grian could discern a faint smile and a subtle nod of acknowledgment.

Etho's past remained a huge mystery. Neither Grian nor Jimmy knew much about his history, but having grown up with him as a father figure, they had learned to interpret his behaviours and reactions to certain things. It was always strange to the brother though because whenever they inquired, Bdubs would always brush off their questions, leaving them in the dark about Etho's past. So eventually they gave up wondering and learned to live with his distance.

Etho was a unique blend of a human and a fox, specifically an Arctic fox.

As the three settled around the small table, Etho and Bdubs began to eat, with Etho lowering his mask to facilitate the meal. Bdubs broke the silence, "Grian said he came to talk. Will Jim be joining us? does he want something to eat?" Grian's expression darkened at the mention of Jimmy.

"It's about Jim. Um," Grian began, casting a shadow over the conversation. His wings drooped to the floor. "Last month, he had an altercation with a man at a bar. Somehow, the magic concealing his wings failed, and he was exposed." Grian's words hung heavy in the air as Etho and Bdubs listened intently.

"Scott got him out, but there was a video," Grian continued. "Luckily, their faces weren't visible, and the bar's cameras weren't up to date. Anyway, I snuck into the archives and got the case files related to his incident, and now Jimmy is missing."

Bdubs dropped his fork with a clatter. "What?" Etho's ears drooped at the sudden noise. "Missing? What do you mean 'missing'?" Bdubs' voice trembled with concern.

"I don't know. He's been gone since Monday. I looked through the case files and found an ID for the man he fought at the bar. I tracked him down, interrogated him, and I think he's involved," Grian added, piling more weight on the already heavy conversation.

"Wait, this is a lot to take in," Bdubs said, trying to process the influx of information. Etho glanced at Bdubs with trepidation in his eyes. "Did he leave any clue as to where he could have gone?"

“No. He left Monday morning for work and never came back home,” Grian relayed solemnly.

“The guy at the bar, who is he?” Bdubs asked, his appetite forgotten.

“His name is Lance. I don’t think he has Jimmy, but I suspect he’s involved somehow. He wouldn’t answer any of my questions and had two guys ambush me. Luckily, Hotguy showed up,” Grian explained.

“Are you alright?” Etho suddenly inquired, his voice quiet but filled with concern. Grian nodded in response.

“My wings are a little tattered, but nothing serious,” Grian assured him. Etho acknowledged his response with a nod before glancing over at Bdubs, who appeared on the verge of tears upon hearing the news. Etho tilted his head, trying to catch Bdubs’ attention and offer him some comfort.

Bdubs and Etho had become parental figures to Grian and Jimmy at a young age, nurturing them from their days of abandonment and destitution on the streets. Despite lacking a biological connection, the bond between them was as strong as any family’s.

It took time for Grian to fully embrace their care, while Jimmy adapted more quickly. Both boys were grateful for the stability and security provided by Bdubs and Etho, though trust didn’t come easily for Grian.

The news of his missing child hit Bdubs like a devastating blow, evoking the same anguish as if they were already gone forever. The default assumption, for anyone, was the worst-case scenario. Bdubs fought to contain his emotions, clinging to the sliver of hope that Jimmy might still be out there, somewhere, alive.

Etho having endured his own trials earlier in life, had grown adept at suppressing his reactions. Despite caring deeply, he maintained a stoic exterior, his experiences having instilled a level of emotional resilience that shielded him from immediate despair. If he felt the weight of any situation, he kept it well concealed. Which is what he was doing now.

Bdubs cleared his throat. “What are you going to do next? What will be the next step to finding Jim?” his voice still wobbling.

Grian hesitated, weighing his options. “Last night, Hotguy arrested one of the guys who ambushed me,” he explained. “He offered help, said he felt bad for me or whatever. But I don’t really trust it. Scott suggested I try to gain information through Hotguy, but ultimately he works for the government.”

“If it will help find Jim, then do it,” Bdubs replied, his tone stern and resolute. Etho adjusted his mask, listening while returning to his normal appearance. “And if Hotguy tries anything, you know how to defend yourself. Your magic surpasses all of ours.”

Grian’s gaze fell, his mind racing with fears of being captured and subjected to experimentation. Humans were largely ignorant about hybrids, and Grian feared they would view him as nothing more than a scientific curiosity. Grian sighs.

“Maybe,” he mutters, still uncertain, but swaying towards the idea, especially since his parents were also suggesting it. “When I stole those documents, Hotguy was there, and I stunned him. I’m afraid he will want revenge for that.”

“If he wanted revenge, he would have tried arresting you last night. But you need to stay anonymous. Don’t tell him your real name or Jims.” Bdubs advised.

“Okay,” Grian agreed, his voice quiet. “Would you mind helping with my wings before I go?” he asked, needing assistance with the feathers closer to his back that he couldn’t reach.

Bdubs softly smiled. “Sure.”

Feeling the weight of exhaustion settle into his bones, It had already been a long patrol day for Scar. Having to single-handedly stop a bank robbery and aiding in a police chase had drained him. Despite the enhancements of his braces, he knew it wouldn't be long before they required replenishment with more regenerative fluids.

Nevertheless, he remained perched atop the building, awaiting his next call, as always. The night air was clearer and warmer than the previous night, offering a brief respite from the chaos below.

Scar was on the brink of sleep when the resounding beat of wings jolted him awake. Though surprised, a part of him recognized the sound since he had only heard the sound once before. He spun around to find the familiar avian figure perched on the railing.

Grian had undergone a transformation, sporting a new ensemble of a snug black tank top accentuating his form, paired with pink feminine shorts with black leggings underneath. Sharp boots adorned his feet, and his wings retained their black hue, now tipped with a delicate shade of pink. The same pink accentuated the wings atop his head. The upper half of his face still remain covered in black makeup, making him indistinguishable.

“It’s you,” Scar acknowledged lowly, observing Grian’s crossed arms and stern demeanour, chin held defiantly aloft. Grian stood silent for the moment, having no immediate comeback.

“Why are you back, and what’s with the new look?” Scar inquired, rising to his feet. A glimmer of interest shined in Scars eyes.

“I trust you’re not dumb. You offered help last night, I was hoping you would let me ask the guy you arrested a few questions.” The avian's voice echoed with an evident voice reflector. Advanced technology, Scar took note of it.

Scar frowned. “Rude. Some manners wouldn’t hurt. After all, I did save your life,” he reminded.

“Appreciated,” Grian replied, a hint of cockiness in his tone, as he stepped down from the railing.

Scar scoffed, arms crossed in annoyance. “Do remember, you are illegal. I could arrest you right now,” he warned, his tone laced with authority.

Grian met Scar’s gaze fearlessly. “Try me,” he growled, his confidence unshaken in the face of the man with a bow. “I’d love to stun you again.”

Scar’s eyebrows raised in intrigue. “Is that what you call the trick you pulled on me?” he queried, his curiosity tinged with a hint of admiration for Grian’s unique abilities. Grian remained silent, contemplating his response carefully.

“I don’t want to chit-chat; I want to get to the point,” Grian interjected, his impatience evident in his tone.

Scar’s demeanour softened slightly. “Well.” he was beginning to regret this. “I would like to know a little bit more about the situation before we continue anything. I’m going against the law for you so you at least owe me an explanation.”

Grian narrowed his eyes, choosing his words with care. He knew he had this man under his fingertips for some odd reason, why else would he want to help him? Grian had shown him nothing but spite yet Hotguy still showed him compassion. It was odd, but Grian was absolutely going to take full advantage of it. “I have family missing. The man I was questioning last night is connected.”

Scar paused, weighing the risks of his actions. As he gazed at Grian, he noticed a fleeting expression of sorrow, oddly familiar yet elusive. Grian averted his gaze, but Scar’s intuition had already caught the glimpse of vulnerability.

Shrugging off his internal debate, Scar found himself questioning his own motives. Why was he willing to jeopardize his job for a hybrid who had shown him nothing but disdain? Despite his internal conflict, Scar felt a pang of empathy stir within him. He couldn’t ignore the desperation in Grian’s eyes, nor the weight of his words. But he wouldn’t do this for free.

Grian could tell that the superhero was beginning to rethink his decision.

After a moment of contemplation, Scar straightened his posture, a determined glint in his eyes. “I’ll help you find whoever it is you’re looking for,” he declared, his voice firm. “But, not for free.”

Grian’s frown deepened, apprehension coursing through him as he sensed the conversation taking an unexpected turn.

“You help me with patrols,” Scar began, and Grian’s expression contorted in disbelief. “Someone with your abilities would be great in keeping the city safe. And If I’m going to help you it’s only fair you do the same for me,” Scar’s voice was filled with unwavering optimism, but Grian felt a knot of unease tighten in his stomach. He had never envisioned himself as a superhero, and the proposition caught him completely off guard.

Scar wasn't entirely certain what prompted him to pose the question, but upon reflection, he realized the potential benefits of having an avian with abilities like his on his side. An extra hand in combating crime waves could prove invaluable. Despite Scar's capabilities, the weight of the job often bore down heavily on him, especially when he had no one else to rely on in action other than Cub. But even then, Cub was never there in person.

He needed somebody on the field with him, somebody who could assist if he was to get hurt or overrun.

“What?” Grian started, his confusion evident as he struggled to articulate his thoughts. “But I’m illegal—”

“Then only at night. That’s when you tend to make your appearances anyway,” Scar interjected smoothly, his tone brimming with determination.

Grian hesitated, suspicion gnawing at him. Why would the city’s superhero want his assistance? Why choose him as a partner? It seemed too random to Grian, but upon reflection, he realized that Hotguy viewed him as a superior being, which might explain the interest in having him on the team. With the urgency of finding Jimmy weighing heavily on his mind, Grian considered his options.

After a moment of silence, Grian spoke cautiously. “If you help me find my family, I’ll assist you on occasion. But I can’t commit to every night; I simply don’t have the time for that.”

“That works. It’s fair,” Scar replied, his determination evident. “I’ll contact the station and see what arrangements can be made. But I have no idea how you’ll communicate with him, considering… well, the wings and all,” Scar pointed out the obvious challenge.

“I was hoping you could arrange for him to be brought out briefly so I can talk to him,” Grian suggested.

“That’s illegal,” Scar reminded him.

“Well, you’re working with illegal, how much worse can it get?” Grian retorted, his point hitting home. Scar shrugged loudly, realizing he had partnered with a smartass.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Scar muttered, resigned to the situation.

Grian nodded. “Let me know,” he said before stretching out his wings, preparing to take off.

“Wait- what do I call you?” Scar called after him, suddenly realizing the oversight.

Grian paused, “Hmm, well, since I’m considered your partner now,” Grian pondered for a moment before flashing a cocky grin. “How about Cuteguy?” he suggested half-jokingly, before beating his wings and soaring off into the night.

Scar watched in awe as the avian soared gracefully through the night sky, the moon casting a radiant backdrop to the mesmerizing display. It felt surreal, like something straight from a dream.

“Oh my god, you totally have a crush on Birdman,” Cub’s voice echoed loudly through the earpiece, shattering Scar’s reverie. Startled, Scar realized he had completely forgotten that Cub was observing the entire interaction. Oh, how he would never hear the end of this.

Chapter Text

"Grian, I didn't think you were coming in today. I brought you coffee," Mumbo's voice echoed in Grian's empty classroom, interrupting his phone-scrolling trance. Upon acknowledging Mumbo’s arrival, Grian straightened up in his seat and adjusted the glasses sitting on his nose.

"Thanks, Mumbo," Grian replied, his tiredness evident though he still smiled softly. Mumbo handed him the medium-sized cup and Grian took a drink swiftly.

The raven-haired lifted an eyebrow, "I thought you took the rest of the week off. Why come in on a Friday?" Mumbo inquired, puzzled by Grian's presence on the last day of the week.

Grian shrugged, "Students have a test. I wanted to be here instead of having a substitute. And it's better than sitting at home doing nothing." he admits

“Oh.” Mumbo’s lips formed the word soundlessly, his tongue clicking in concern. “Scar’s been worried about you,” he admits, catching Grian’s attention.

“Really?” Grian’s eyebrow lifts with curiosity. “What for?”

“Well,” Mumbo’s voice takes on a more serious tone, “we’ve been trying to reach out to you, checking in to see how you’re holding up, but you never respond to our calls…” His words trail off, leaving Grian feeling a twinge of embarrassment at the gentle reprimand.

“Sorry,” Grian offers simply, setting his coffee aside.

“No need to apologize, I understand,” Mumbo reassures him. “But can I ask if there’s been any progress?”

Grian takes a deep breath before replying, his exhale punctuating his words. “Yeah, they found security camera footage of him walking along his usual route after work, but he vanishes about 8 to 10 minutes away from home. The cameras didn’t capture anything, he just… disappeared.”

Mumbo’s expression turns serious. “Do you think someone took him?”

Grian’s brow furrows, and he nods slowly.

Concern etches Mumbo’s features as he carefully chooses his words, mindful of Grian’s aversion to pity. “They’ll find him. After all, it’s a lead detective, I feel like finding him would be their main focus,” he reassures.

“I hope so,” Grian replies softly, the silence stretching before being interrupted by the arrival of students for class.

As Mumbo spots the students, he realizes it’s time to go, allowing Grian to prepare for his lesson. “I’m going to go. Please try to check our messages, both mine and Scar’s,” he requests.

Grian nods as Both men exchange smiles, and then Mumbo leaves without further ado.

Despite appreciating his friends’ reassurance, Grian couldn’t shake the feeling of responsibility weighing heavily on him. He felt a duty to find Jimmy—for Scott, for his parents, and for himself. Deep down, Grian held onto hope, knowing Jimmy was still out there somewhere, alive. And he knew he might be the only one capable of finding him if it was as serious as it was heading.

As the chatter of the class filled the room, Grian blinked, realizing it was time to begin. Glancing at his watch—9:15—he steeled himself. With furrowed brows and a pained expression, he stood up from his desk to go close the door, determined to start class as best he could without succumbing to his emotions.

As the evening wore on, tension mounted for Grian, making him reflect his recent decisions.

Did he truly want to be a sidekick?

Aware that the role he was offered was optional, and that if wanted to he could find Jimmy on his own, something about the archer's fondness for him ignited a spark of dare within Grian. Compelling him to embrace the risk of ultimately being betrayed.

So if Grian was going to continue with the sidekick role, he realized the necessity of being able to defend himself thoroughly. Despite being moderately skilled in combat, Etho having taught him and Jimmy defence in earlier years, Grian typically leaned on his magic in most defensive situations. However, the only bad part was that if he used too much magic continuously it could start taking a toll on him.

Therefore, to enhance his defences, he decided to make some upgrades for himself. As a precaution, he fashioned a belt to holster two custom-designed pistols at his waist alongside a small bag attached to the belt that held ammunition for the guns.

Arriving on the rooftop from the night before, Grian spotted Hotguy engaged in his usual lookout duty. Hotguy’s attention snapped to Grian’s arrival, his head jerking up at the sound.

“Guns?” Hotguy quirked an eyebrow, giving Grian an up-and-down reflection. “Do you plan on shooting people?”

“Screw off," Grian muttered, annoyed that Hotguy just had to comment. "If I need to yes, I'm a sharp shot." he answered.

Hotguy rolled his eyes at the avian's regular bitterness and turned to resume viewing the city. "Not a better shot than me," Scar boasted, earning an eye roll from Grian this time.

It had been some time since Grian last handled a gun. During his time in high school in the undercity, he had been trained in aiming with various weapons. As said before, Etho had made sure the boys knew how to defend themselves.

“Anything happening tonight?” the older inquired, sidling up next to Hotguy but maintaining a cautious distance. Gri still harboured reservations about trusting the superhero, but he was willing to try. Grian and Scar both leaned on the guard railing, gazing out at the city skyline. The archer gave Grian a sidelong glance.

“There's supposed to be a robbery tonight at the bank, waiting for the call. Maybe tonight you can show me why you’re considered illegal,” Scar remarked, his tone bordering a playful attitude but it was apparent Grian had taken it to heart.

“Watch it,” Grian warned, the voice reflector making his voice more intimidating.

"Sorry, I didn't mean anything by it," Scar sighed, realizing how his words could have been interpreted as discriminatory. "But I want to see what combat skills you have," he clarified, prompting Grian to tilt his head in mild confusion.

“Are you doubting me?” turning his head to the hero, Grian scoffed and a small chuckle escaped his lips as the wings on his head fluttered. “Do remember who stunned you and escaped without a struggle.” his head turned with pride.

“Okay, but I still haven’t seen you in one one-on-one combat, besides the other night but I won’t count that… how about no magic tonight?” Scar suggests with a slim smile, holding an actual conversation with the avian didn’t seem impossible after all.

“Maybe. When are you going to get my guy?” Grian asked, his tone firm as he tried to negotiate. Scar sighed, slightly annoyed being reminded of the whole stressful situation he had gone through to figure out how to get the man cuteguy was looking for.

“Tomorrow night is our only chance. You’ll have about 10 minutes before they realize he’s missing, so you’d better have a plan ready,” Scar replied, emphasizing the urgency of the situation. “I’m risking my job for you.”

“No one asked you to help. You insisted,” Grian reminded, as Scar crossed his arms defensively.

“I could have arrested you,” Scar retorted.

“Go ahead, arrest me then,” Grian said, extending his wrist playfully. Scar stared, momentarily taken aback by the gesture. After a pause, Grian scoffed and moved away. “See? You can tell yourself that all you want, but you know you can’t do it. You won’t even try,” he teased. “I barely know you, and yet you seem to have a strange liking for me,” he added, almost muttering.

Scar’s cheeks reddened with embarrassment, and he quickly turned away. “…It’s not every day you come across a hybrid,” he mumbled.

“Sure,” Grian agreed with a shrug. “And it’s not every day you come across a human who doesn’t freak out upon seeing a hybrid,” he added in agreement, his tone tinged with dismay. Scar could sense Grian’s frustration with the discrimination he faced. But he decided to not make anymore comments.

“Scar, it’s happening.” Cub's voice was heard, breaking the silence.

"Well, time to go, Cuteguy," Hotguy announced, retrieving a grapple from his belt and scanning for a ledge to shoot it at. As Hotguy prepared to depart, Grian wondered how he knew it was time. Then he noticed a black earpiece tucked into Hotguy's right ear.

At the time, Grian simply assumed it was a police scanner, oblivious to the fact that it was actually another person behind it.

"Lead the way," Grian replied, lifting his wings in readiness to follow closely behind. With a swift motion, Hotguy's grapple hooked onto a nearby building, and he leaped fearlessly into the void. Grian allowed him to get a head start before taking flight himself, not wanting to tail him too closely.

As Grian jumped and began flight, he made sure to maintain a higher altitude to avoid being seen. Grian followed Hotguy’s path, keeping a watchful eye on his movement as they moved swiftly through the city. The wind rushed past Grian’s wings, lifting him higher as he maintained a discreet distance from Hotguy below.

Glancing down, Grian observed the city’s nocturnal activities unfolding beneath him. The occasional glimmer of streetlights illuminated the darkened streets, casting long shadows across the concrete jungle below.

As they approached the bank, Grian tightened his grip on the cold night air, focusing on the task at hand. With each beat of his wings, he propelled himself forward, his senses heightened as they neared their target.

Finally, they reached the bank, its silhouette looming ominously against the night sky. Hotguy landed gracefully on the rooftop of a nearby building to scan the area, his movements swift and assured. Grian followed suit, touching down with a soft thud beside him.

"Alright, here's the plan. There are three guys inside, and one in that van across the street," he says, gesturing to a black van. How ominous.

"You go get the one keeping watch, and once that's taken care of, join me inside. Only resort to shooting if your life's in danger. The cops will likely show up in 15 minutes, so stay out of sight when you hear sirens," Hotguy briefs quickly. Grian nods, realizing he's been assigned the simpler task, but he's fine with that—it's his first day, after all.

“Question,” Grian interrupts, “How do you know all this?”

“Magic.” He quips with a grin. Grian rolls his eyes as Hotguy grapples over to the bank rooftop to scout for an entry point.

Grian contemplates his approach to the lookout. Acting on instinct, he leaps from the roof, gliding down and landing soundlessly behind the van. Sensing someone in the front seat, he decides his best move is to hope the door is unlocked and subdue the man.

With swift movements, Grian rushes to the driver's side, readying charged super-strength in case the door is locked. Luckily, it isn't, and he quickly grabs the man, rendering him unconscious. The scout had been too stunned to react and now lies inert on the sidewalk as Grian inspects the van's interior.

Computers, a police scanner, a walkie-talkie, and a rope. Finding the coil of rope in the back, he decided to tie up the unconscious man to the driver's seat.

That was surprisingly easier than expected.

Grian beats his wings up to the roof, finding an open latch he assumed Hotguy had taken.

It wasn’t hard to find the path hotguy took, but for some reason, the building remained eerily silent. No alarms, no voices, nothing. Grian snuck around quietly, his steps light considering his weight. It hadn’t taken long for him to find Hotguy leaning against a wall planning how to approach.

His eyes widened upon sight of CuteGuy. “You did that that fast?” he whispered.

Grian shrugged his shoulders with a nonchalant shrug, “Wasn’t hard, just one guy with unlocked doors..” he whispered back. His tone obviously prideful nonetheless.

Impressed, Hotguy nodded, then motioned towards the right, indicating the presence of the other two men. “Stay put unless I need backup,” he instructed.

Scar, armed with his bow, emerged suddenly from around the corner where the two men stood. In an instant, they turned towards him, weapons drawn. Grian lingered behind, poised to assist at the opportune moment.

“Drop it,” Hotguy’s voice cut through the tension, firm and commanding.

One of the robbers scoffed, a mocking laugh escaping his lips. “How about you? You’re outnumbered, two against one.” Both men were masked.

“You’d be surprised,” Hotguy muttered, his tone low and ominous. “I’d prefer not to resort to violence to make you surrender.”

Ignoring the warning, one of the men fired his gun, the loud bang shattering the brief calm. Startled, Grian flinched, while Scar swiftly dodged the bullet, retaliating with a well-aimed arrow that struck the man’s shoulder. With a yell of pain, the wounded robber dropped his weapon and fled, leaving his accomplice to sneak Hotguy.

Seizing the opportunity, Grian sprang into action, tackling the approaching robber and wrestling for control of the gun. Meanwhile, Scar dashed towards the fleeing assailant, determined to apprehend him. Amidst the chaos, another gunshot rang out, narrowly missing Grian. After a brief struggle, Grian managed to disarm the robber and subdued him with a swift blow from the pistol.

With a sigh of relief, the avian watched as the man slumped unconscious, tossing his weapon aside. His moment of respite was short-lived, as a creaking floorboard alerted him to the presence of a fourth man.

Grian turned to see a gun pointed directly at him. "One thing after another," Grian thought as he stood up, eyeing the masked figure who seemed perplexed by cuteguy's unexpected appearance.

"What... are you?" the man finally spoke, his voice tinged with uncertainty. Grian tensed, inching towards the gun at his waist.

"Don't," the robber warned, advancing menacingly. Grian opted for caution, curious about what the man had to say.

"Are you with Hotguy?" the man questioned.

"Clearly," Grian retorted, a hint of defiance in his tone. Without anymore said, the fourth man fired his gun twice, prompting Grian to swiftly evade the bullets and close the distance. Grian decided against Hotguys “no magic tonight” rule and stunned the man thoroughly.

Shaking off the adrenaline, Grian glanced at the now two unconscious men, pondering what was next. Distant sirens pierced the air and seconds later Hotguy reappeared, leading the captured fugitive in handcuffs. Hotguy gaped in astonishment at the scene before them. "How did I manage to get three while you only nabbed one?" Grian quipped, a note of pride colouring his voice.

Scar's expression soured in response. He was relieved to see that Cuteguy had managed to avoid getting shot amidst the chaos of gunfire. "Show off," he muttered under his breath, a hint of begrudging admiration in his tone.

As the sirens grew closer, Grian understood it was time to depart, knowing that he would meet up with Hotguy shortly after. With a quick nod to one another, Grian slipped away from the scene.

Chapter Text

“Jimmy, slow down," Scott's voice barely pierced through the cacophony of music and chatter in the bustling rooftop bar. Observing Jimmy take another shot in one gulp, Scott couldn't help but feel a sense of concern amidst the birthday celebration. He knew Jim was definitely going to be hungover. He watched as the other squinted his face at the harsh aftertaste of pure vodka.

"But it's my birthday, Scott! We're here to drink!" Jimmy exclaimed with a mischievous grin, elongating his words.

Suppressing a chuckle, Scott responded, "Well someone has to drive home."

"Nah, we can walk," Jimmy protested with an unserious tone, he leaped up from his chair and seized Scott's hands, pulling him upright with a yelp. "Let's dance!"

Scott held on tight as he was pulled through a crowd of people. The bar was crowded with people, which was typical for a Saturday night.

Above them, the sky was dark, contrasting with the flashing neon lights and booming music emanating from the bar. Scott and Jimmy weren’t accustomed to frequently visiting bars or parties, but it was Jimmy’s birthday, and Scott wanted him to have a memorable celebration.

As they maneuvered through the crowd, Jimmy wore a grin that seemed frozen in time, his euphoria palpable as he abruptly halted, turning to face Scott amidst the slow-motion chaos. Their close proximity, a result of the crowded space, amplified the moment.

Scott could discern the telltale signs of Jimmy’s inebriation in his gaze. “Are you having fun?” he inquired, to which Jimmy simply nodded.

“Can’t believe we come to a bar, and you don’t even drink! Are you having fun mr?” Jimmy’s words tumbled out in a garbled mess, his last line mocking Scott while his grammar began to falter.

“Don’t worry about me, Jim. We’re here for you, so you can have a good time. It’s YOUR birthday, after all,” Scott gently reminded him.

"Let's go to the view," Jimmy said vaguely, switching up from wanting to dance to see the city lights. He tugged Scott towards the building's ledge to catch a glimpse of the nighttime view.

Amidst the forceful pull from Jimmy, Scott stumbled, accidentally pushing a man who spilled his drink and took offense.

"Sorry—"

"Who the hell?!"

Scott's heart sank as he tried to stop but was dragged away, unable to apologize properly. Jimmy remained oblivious, continuing to lead him through the crowd unaware of the situation that was about to occur.

Unfortunately, the offended man kept his gaze fixed on Scott, trailing him until Jimmy finally stopped at the railings. Scott had tried to intervene earlier, he had tried to get Jimmy’s attention to stop, but amidst the music and alcohol, Jimmy hadn't heard him.

The man trailed behind Scott, shoving his shoulder once close enough to grab his attention, which jostled him against the railing. Scott instinctively raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “You just spilled my drink! That was fifteen dollars down the drain!” the man bellowed.

“I’m really sorry, I didn’t—” Scott began to explain, but was swiftly cut off.

“What’s the issue here?” Jimmy intervened, positioning himself protectively in front of Scott once he realized Scott had withdrawn his hand from Jimmy’s grip.

“Fifteen bucks wasted! Buy me another one fag!” the man demanded, his voice dripping with anger. People began to stare at the commotion.

“Hey, don’t call him that asshole! Why would you even spend fifteen bucks on a drink in a packed bar?” Jimmy retorted, surprisingly direct amongst the alcohol.

“He could’ve at least apologized, but instead, he tried to run away like a puss, so no way. Buy me a new one,” the man spat aggressively, his tone pushing Jimmy over the edge, prompting him to shove the man back in favour of Scott.

"Jimmy, don't," Scott pleaded, reaching out to grab Jimmy by his shoulders, trying to stop him. But before he could intervene further, the man caught his stumble and swung.

Scott's voice rang out, a desperate plea for Jimmy to stop as the two grappled and spun each other around on the ground. The surrounding crowd retreated, creating a ring for the impromptu brawl, while others looked on, amused by the excitement.

In the frenzy, amidst the shouts and scuffles, Scott's eyes caught a glimpse of something unsettling – a faint yellow hue starting to emerge on Jimmy's back. His heart sank at the sight, dread feeling his chest.

"Jimmy, stop, please!" Scott implored, struggling to pry Jimmy away from the man. "Your wings, Jimmy—your wings!" he cried out, hoping his words would reach his friend before it was too late.

As the commotion drew the attention of the crowd, one by one, they began to witness the startling sight unfolding before them. It didn't take long for Jimmy to sense the eerie silence that had settled over the gathering. Pausing mid-punch, he glanced up to find every eye fixed upon him.

"Jimmy, let's go," Scott urged, emerging behind him and exerting all his strength to pull him away. Gradually, Jimmy's focus shifted, and he became aware of why the hushed atmosphere was enveloping them. His wings were out. He was exposed.

With a dawning realization, Jimmy stumbled to his feet as Scott propelled him forward, their escape hastened by the stunned gazes of the onlookers. People instinctively parted as they rushed past, their faces frozen in disbelief, silently observing the extraordinary scene before them.

and then the comments and insults came hurling in.

“What is that?”

“freak.”

“are they real?”

“leave weirdo!”

“monster!”

Jimmy had never experienced such embarrassment. Sure, he'd stumbled over words and had botched speeches in public before, but this was on a different level. He felt utterly exposed, vulnerable to being arrested at any moment.

Scott didn't stop running until they reached the elevator. Once inside, he frantically jabbed at the close door button, his gaze shifting anxiously between Jimmy's swelling face and the closing doors. But even that seemed like the least of their worries.

"You're an idiot," Scott gasped, still catching his breath. "You shouldn’t have done that.”

“I’d rather it been me than you,” Jimmy muttered, beginning to sober up and process everything that just happened. He stood in silence, grappling with the inexplicable timing of his wings' sudden revelation.

Jimmy found himself grappling with questions. Why did that happen? That had never happened before. Was it a self-defense mechanism? Faulty magic? or simply the rush of adrenaline? Regardless of the cause, one thing was certain Jimmy felt vulnerable.

Unlike Grian, Jimmy lacked any magic ability to control his wings, so they had to improvise. Grian had made up a spell that allowed Jim to conceal or reveal his wings with a single word: "avian." And so in the awkward silence of the elevator, Jimmy attempted to utter the incantation under his breath, but to no avail.

"I can't hide them, Scott," Jimmy muttered, frustration creeping into his voice along with the disappointment lingering in his throat.

Jimmy could sense the whirlwind of emotions coursing through Scott—stress, anger, and fear all converging into a potent mix. Scott had every reason to feel that way. Yet, Jimmy found solace in the fact that Scott remained by his side through it all. He felt grateful that Scott hadn't abandoned him to face the situation alone. If it weren't for Scott's intervention, Jimmy knew he would have remained frozen in place.

and for that he adored Scott.

"Just keep them tucked under your shirt. When we reach the first floor, we run straight to the car, okay?" Scott instructed, his tone firm with resolve. Jimmy only nodded.

"Where is he?!" Grian's voice boomed with aggression as he gripped the handcuffed man by the collar, delivering a relentless barrage of punches, each blow a demand for information.

It was the following night since Hotguy and Cuteguy had fought together for the first time. Now, they found themselves atop a rooftop, interrogating the captured man whom Scar had escaped from jail for the time being.

Scar lingered a few paces behind, both overseeing the interrogation and taken aback by the intensity of the smaller man's actions. "Hey, chill out, I told you not to hurt him," he interjected, a note of caution in his tone.

"Speak up! Can't you talk?!" Grian's voice reverberated with authority, drowning out Scar's protest as he continued to pummel the man, who struggled to catch his breath. Disregarding Hotguy's plea, Grian forcefully pushed him to the ground.

"Lance has nothing to do with this..." the man gasped between laboured breaths, beginning to yield to the pressure. "If you're looking for the other avian, Martyn is the one you're looking for." he confessed.

"Where can I find Martyn?" Grian's voice was firm, his gaze piercing as he awaited an answer.

The man hesitated, sensing the impending aftermath if he was caught being known as the snitch, Grian lifted him up once more, cocking back his arm and fist, his threat hanging heavy in the air.

"Okay, okay! He's in and out of town, but when he's here, you'll usually find him at the West Side Bar or the Hotel 8," the man relented, offering the sought-after information.

"What does Martyn look like? And Is the other avian alive?" Grian inquired, careful to keep his question vague, avoiding dropping any names that might tip off Hotguy about his search for the detective.

"I’ve only ever met him once but he’s blonde and he has a huge scar on his face. And as far as I'm aware, he’s alive yes." the man replied. With that confirmation, Grian released his hold, allowing the man to slump back onto the unforgiving concrete below.

Turning to Hotguy, who stood nearby with arms crossed, Grian exchanged a knowing look, Hotguy raised an eyebrow.

"Take him back, I'm done," Grian declared, his tone final, as he strode past the hero. Scar nodded in understanding and moved forward to take charge of the captive.

As Hotguy ushered the man away to return him to prison, Grian remained on the roof, lost in thought and contemplation. He paced. At least now he had some semblance of confirmation that Jimmy was alive, albeit in captivity.

Thoughts raced through Grian's mind as he pondered Jimmy's well-being – whether he was safe, if he had been given food and water, if he was injured or unscathed. Despite knowing Jimmy's resilience, Grian couldn't shake the worry that gnawed at him.

Shortly after, Hotguy returned, breaking Grian from his reverie. "You good?" he inquired, sensing the tension that hung in the air. Grian simply nodded in response, his mind still preoccupied with concerns for his brother.

"We'll need to track down Martyn," Grian finally voiced his thoughts.

"Of course, but he mentioned he's frequently in and out of town. How do we time it right to catch him?" Hotguy questioned, practicality driving his concerns.

"We'll have to keep watch until we spot him, he’s bound to show eventually." Grian replied.

"I can check out the bar tomorrow night, and you can keep an eye on the hotel?" the brunette suggested, already formulating a plan.

"Yeah, that works." Grian tone was flat.

"If he hasn't shown up by midnight, we'll revert to our normal routines to make sure the city stays safe," Hotguy concluded, his sense of duty unwavering.

Grian pondered what motivated Scar to be so invested in protecting the city. He entertained various possibilities but decided tonight wasn't the time to delve into it. After all, they were still getting to know each other, and delving too deeply into personal motivations seemed unnecessary at the moment.

Hotguy's attention shifted as Cub's voice crackled over his earpiece. He glanced toward Grian, already anticipating their next move. "There's some commotion downtown. Want to go check it out?" he proposed, though it sounded more like a statement than a question.

"Yeah," Grian agreed with a nod, swiftly leaping off the building without waiting for further discussion and flying ahead.

Hotguy sighed briefly, “I was gonna ask him to race...” Scar muttered to himself and Cub merely snickered over the com at his humor.

Chapter Text

"You're a lifesaver! I didn't realize how much stuff I had until now," Scar chuckled, shaking his head in amused disbelief as he struggled to shove colorful posters and various decorations into a box.

Scar's classroom, usually a riot of color and creativity, looked somewhat bare now as the decorations came down. Grian had offered some assistance in helping take down decorations in Scars classroom since some were out of his reach deeming the wheelchair.

And it was the least he could offer after ignoring his and Mumbo's messages.

Grian, standing on a chair a few feet away to reach the higher decorations, carefully removed a string of paper stars. "It's no problem, Scar," he replied with a smile. "Happy to help."

The brunette was known for redecorating his room every month, tailoring it to the current holiday or season. He believed that a more colorful environment created a better atmosphere in general.

Scar maneuvered his wheelchair to another corner of the room, gathering posters and small trinkets. "I honestly didn't realize how much I had," he adds, his tone a mix of amusement and exhaustion.

Grian only smiled softly, stepping down from the chair with a handful of decorations. "I guess it's easy to lose track. Your room is always the most colorful one in the school." his voice was gentle and calm, yet not a lot of energy was shown.

And of course Scar noticed the faint emptiness in his tone, but just as everyone else had, he chose not to comment. Grian had a valid reason for it, I mean hell his brother was missing. The only thing Scar and everybody else hated was that Grian consistently rejected or denied any concern when asked if he was alright.

"Thanks," Scar said, "No offense toward you or anybody else but I think a more colorful setting is better than just white walls."

"Yeah you're right, I just don't have the time or motivation to decorate." Grian agreed, packing the decorations into a box. "The students love it though, I've heard them talking about it."

Scar's face lit up at that comment, but he quickly turned away, attempting to hide his beaming expression. However, Grian still noticed the small smile and the brief moment Scar took to savor that. "Thanks." Scar eventually mumbles.

They continued working in comfortable silence for a few minutes after that, the only sounds being the rustling of paper and the occasional tear of tape. Grian found himself glancing at Scar now and then, appreciating his dedication and the warmth in his eyes amongst his circumstances.

As they finished packing up the last boxes, Scar pointed to a pile. "Can you take these one to the car? I'll grab what I can and follow you out."

Grian nods, and lifts a couple of boxes at once heading toward the door. They loaded the boxes into Scar's car once outside, the trunk filling up quickly. "Thanks again, Grian. You really saved me a lot of time."

"No problem," Grian replied, feeling a bit awkward as he shoved his hands into his pockets. He glanced at Scar, who was looking at him with a furrowed expression. Like he had something to say but couldn't quite find the correct words.

"I hate to ask, but has there been any progress with Jimmy? You haven't really responded to my messages..." Scar finally inquires, his voice heavy with unease. His eyes search Grian's face, hoping for some hint of good news.

Grian breathes before responding, the weight of the situation evident in his expression. "Not really, no," he confesses. "As far as anybody is aware Jimmy didn't have any enemies. They went through his arrest records to make sure nobody he had ever arrested would want revenge or anything like that, but that was all cleared. It's just so unlike him to just vanish. I really think someone took him or he's already.. yeah.."

Scar frowns, "Don't think like that," Scar interjects, his voice firm yet compassionate. "I'm sure he'll turn up." He gives Grian a look that's hard to interpret, an intense mix of determination and an unspoken promise. Grian can't quite place it, but it gives him a glimmer of hope. He just smiles.

"This might be a bit out of the blue, but would you want to grab lunch tomorrow?" Grian asked, the question tumbling out before he could second-guess himself. He wasn't entirely sure what had prompted him to ask, but something about the moment felt right. He watched Scar closely, eager to see how he would react.

Scar's expression shifted to a genuine smile that seemed to chase away any lingering doubts. "Sure, I'd like that. Maybe you could help me brainstorm for my next class theme," he said, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.

Grian felt a wave of relief wash over him, grateful that his invitation had been accepted. He nodded, his own smile mirroring Scar's.

"Yeah. Uh, just text me where you'd like to eat," Grian said, his voice wavering with a touch of awkwardness towards the end, though he was genuinely grateful. "I need to get home and feed the cats and such."

Scar smiled warmly and tilted his head. "Same here. See you tomorrow?" he asked, watching as Grian pulled his car keys from his pocket.

"Yes, text me. I promise I'll respond this time," Grian replied. They both chuckled lightly, and Scar gave a small wave goodbye. Grian returned the gesture before heading to his car.

As he walked, Grian pondered why he had suddenly wanted to have lunch with Scar. Maybe it was Scar's cheerful attitude, Maybe he just needed a distraction from all the stress or perhaps he simply wanted to get to know him better. Whatever the reason, he felt a small sense of anticipation for tomorrow.

"Anything?" Cuteguy's voice crackled over the walkie-talkie, checking in on Hotguy's progress.

"Nah, just a bunch of drunk middle-aged men," Hotguy replied, his tone bored and blunt. "None of them match the description."

It had been two nights since the interrogation and neither of them had found the Martyn guy. Hotguy was keeping watch outside the bar from a nearby building while Cuteguy, on the other hand, was monitoring the hotel. The two communicated through walkie-talkies.

Cuteguy didn't respond immediately. Instead, he paced on the rooftop for a minute, worried they wouldn't make any progress tonight. With a sigh, he sat down against a railing, letting his wings fold around his chest for warmth.

"It's getting late. I think we should prioritize something else," Hotguy spoke abruptly over the walkie-talkie. "Do you want to meet me, or should I come to you?"

Grian sighed, knowing their chances of making progress tonight were slim, but it was still a terrible feeling accepting that nothing new came. The sense of disappointment gnawed at him despite his expectations.

"Cuteguy?" Hotguy's voice crackled with concern. And after waiting for no response, "I'll come to you then, I guess."

Grian didn't respond, his mind lost in contemplation. He remained perched on the rooftop, his wings wrapped around him like a protective cocoon against the night's chill. The city lights below flickered, casting an ethereal glow over the urban landscape.

It wasn't long before Hotguy arrived, landing on the roof with a small thud. His arrival broke the silence, and he quickly scanned the area before focusing on Cuteguy.

"You alright?" Hotguy asked, his voice softer now as he walked over to the avian.

Grian looked up, meeting Hotguy's gaze. He managed a small nod. "Just thinking."

Hotguy sat down beside him, their shoulders near touching. "About what?" he pushed.

Grian grumbled, hating the pity. And still not entirely trusting the superhero. But the weight of his thoughts were evident plus he was exhausted from the consistency he had given the past few days. "I was just hoping we'd have more luck tonight." He surprisingly confessed.

Hotguy placed a reassuring hand on Grian's shoulder. "We'll get there, I'm sure. Just be patient and keep hope."

Grian didn't have the energy to bicker or protest with the superhero touching his shoulder, so he simply nodded, accepting Hotguy's words and comfort.

Grian offered a faint smile, he wasn't sure how to reply. "Yeah." Hotguy then moved his arm away from the other.

Ever since Jimmy went missing, all Grian had heard were platitudes: 'be patient,' 'keep hope,' 'I'm sure he's okay.' The constant reassurances were wearing him down. He was desperate for any new information, hating the endless waiting. He just wanted to make progress.

"You remind me a lot of my friend," Hotguy began to ramble.

"Don't start. I don't want to know," Cuteguy immediately tried to shut down the conversation, not interested in his friend or another ramble. But Hotguy ignored him and continued.

Over the couple days Grian had worked with Hotguy, he quickly picked up on his stubborn traits.

"Well, I'm serious. Both of you have family missing, and both of you are undeniably sad about it but won't talk about it!" Hotguy dramatically threw his hands in the air in a way that was almost comical. "But I'm going to tell you the same thing I told him: you genuinely have to be patient and keep hope. Because if you give up, nothing new will come."

"I had no plans on giving up," Grian replied firmly.

"I know, but do you get what I'm trying to say?" Hotguy asked, sensing he was losing steam in his argument.

"Why do you care? Honestly, why did you decide to help me? You don't even know me," Grian asked, his voice edged with genuine curiosity.

Taken aback, Scar stared at Grian for a moment, searching for the right words. "I don't know. I honestly don't. At first, I was focused on how I hadn't arrested you in the archives, but then, in that warehouse, my gut told me to help you. So, I guess it was my intuition," Scar admitted, his tone thoughtful.

Grian studied Hotguys face, or at least what he could study. The visor masked a portion of his expression but Grian still searched for any hint of deceit, finding none. "Intuition, huh? You don't strike me as the intuitive type," Grian said with a small, skeptical smile.

Scar chuckled softly. "I don't blame you for thinking that. Most people see me as a by-the-book kind of guy. But sometimes, you have to go with your gut, you know?"

Grian nodded slowly, his skepticism fading. "Yeah, I guess I do. It's just hard to trust anything right now. Especially a man who tried to arrest me."

Hotguy chuckled lightly, finding himself increasingly appreciative of Cuteguys presence. Despite the gravity of their situation, he couldn't deny that the avians company made the long night patrols more enjoyable.

"I apologize gravely," Hotguy began, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he tried to enlighten the mood. "Next time I encounter a hybrid I'm trying to arrest, I will make sure to immediately detain them instead of talking!" He raised his right hand theatrically, as if taking an oath.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, old guy," Grian retorted with a smirk.

"Old guy?!" Hotguy gasped in mock outrage. "I'd have you know I'm still well in my twenties!"

"Don't look it," Grian teased, his eyes glinting with mischief.

"How old are you then?" Hotguy asked, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.

"It depends. How old are you?" Cuteguy shot back, a playful challenge in his eyes.

"29," the brunette replied proudly, straightening his posture as if to emphasize his youth.

Grian's face momentarily fell in embarrassment, knowing he was actually older. He quickly tried to hide it, forcing a neutral expression, but Hotguy didn't miss the fleeting look.

"You're older than me, aren't you?" Hotguy asked, his suspicion piqued by the brief lapse in Cuteguy's composure.

"Nooo," Grian lied, his tone exaggerated and dripping with sarcasm as he dragged out the word. "I'm like, only 25."

Hotguy narrowed his eyes, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "You are older than me!"

Caught, Grian raised his arms halfway in mock surrender. "Okay, maybe, but I'm still going to call you old guy," he said with a cheeky grin.

Both of them giggled, the sound echoing through the quiet night. "Fair enough. But remember, wisdom comes with age," he teased, tapping his temple.

Grian rolled his eyes, still chuckling lightly. "Yeah, yeah. Keep telling yourself that."

They sat there in companionable silence after that, Cuteguy stared at the stars above while Hotguy was watching the city below, the hero was glad to of gotten a laugh from the avian tonight.

"Anything interesting tonight?" Grian asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper but just enough to break the silence.

"Supposed to be," the brunette replied, glancing at Grian with concern, "but I was thinking about telling you to go home."

Grian raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh?"

"Yeah, you've been at this for four nights straight, and I don't want to overwork you. You've proved yourself more than capable, but you also need rest," Scar explained. "Do you work during the day too?" he asked, genuinely curious.

Grian nodded slowly, measuring his actions and words. "Yeah, I do."

Scar's brow furrowed with concern. "Then you must be exhausted, especially since you're not used to this kind of schedule I assume. But I guess I'm not sure if hybrid bodies work differently."

"Every hybrid is different, depending on the variant. But I'm not that different from a human—just extra bones and wings," Grian replied with a slight smile.

"So, you can still get tired?" Scar pressed gently.

"Yes," Grian admitted.

"Point proven," Scar said with a nod, his point made.

Grian sighed, "Fine with me. You yap too much anyways," he commented playfully as he stood up.

"Heyyy, rude!" Scar crossed his arms in a mock pout, playing along with Grian's teasing.

"Just the truth," Grian shrugged, a grin tugging at his lips. Scar shook his head in disbelief, rising to stand beside the shorter male.

"Just take a break. I can keep watch tomorrow night if you're not feeling up to it," the hero offered.

"I'll be back tomorrow night." Grian's voice was firm, determination evident in his tone.

"Alright, fine by me. See you tomorrow then?"

"Yep, Night," Grian said before leaping from the building. Scar watched as he gracefully soared into the distance. As much as Scar wanted to follow him, to learn more about who he really was, he held back. He decided it was best not to intrude on his partner's personal affairs, respecting Cuteguys space.

But he couldn't help but wonder what his real situation was. He wondered what his real name was, he wondered about his life and his wings, he wondered about the under city and he wondered who his missing family was to him. In the end, Scar just wanted to know who he really was.

There was a lot of unasked questions, that hopefully he would get the chance to ask.

"Scar, East side. 3 Armed burglars at a shell station." Cub's voice echoed through his ears and with a momentary sigh, a reminder that he was still on the clock, Scar headed toward his given destination without any further remark.

Upon Grian's return after making sure Hotguy left, he descended back down to the rooftop him and Hotguy once sat at, his gaze lingering on the hotel he had been previously monitoring. The notion of heading home, as Hotguy had suggested, never crossed his mind. With his brother's absence weighing heavily on his thoughts, he remained resolute in his determination to keep watch.

He didn’t wanna miss anything. Haunted by the risk of his departure ending up with Martyn’s appearance. Therefore, Grian told himself repeatedly that he was going to make progress, with or without Hotguy. He would find his brother.