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Being a vigilante was a complicated thing.
The heroes considered you a villain. You were at risk of getting arrested or worse if they crossed paths with you. They were tough on vigilantes. According to their interviewers, it was for the vigilantes’ own good – they had no training, they were potentially risking the lives of themselves and others because of that. Wilbur was aware that the real issue was that they made heroes look bad.
Villains, on the other hand, were a lot more complicated. Most of them hated having another group to deal with, ones that were harder to keep track of. Some tried to recruit vigilantes to work for them, to mixed results. Some villains just agreed to not fight vigilantes if they didn’t fight them. Wilbur didn’t know how they felt about vigilantes.
When it came to who vigilantes could trust more, it was impossible to say.
Wilbur and Niki had both been heroes in training once upon a time. That was, until they had run away to live under the radar and protect the city as a vigilante duo. They knew there were risks at the time, and at the time neither of them had cared. They agreed that it had been worth the risks.
It wasn’t worth the risk.
Wilbur carried his sister as he flew as fast as he could through the storm. Niki was injured badly, and Wilbur was grateful that it was cold. At least the cold would help slow down the blood flow and keep her alive for longer. His water powers worked overtime on trying to keep as much blood inside her as possible, at making sure her heart continued to beat and lungs continued to breathe.
Wilbur could have gone back to the heroes, his father would have made sure Niki was saved. They’d be trapped under the Hero Committee once again, and likely would never be left alone together, but his sister would be alive. That thought was tempting, so tempting. Wilbur knew they had plenty of healers.
Instead, Wilbur flew further and further into the territory of a well known villain.
Gamble was a terrifying villain. He owned basically a quarter of the city, keeping it well under his thumb. Villains, vigilantes and heroes couldn’t do anything in his territory without his approval. He traded information, if you had the right price. Most villains, heroes and vigilantes had their identities compromised because of him. He was extremely dangerous.
And he was Wilbur’s riskiest option.
Villains had some healers on hand, they had to. Gamble had one, at the very least, based on the things he’s survived. Wilbur had tangled with the villain a few times, the other seemed eager to try and recruit him and his sister. Wilbur couldn’t promise Niki’s loyalty, but he was willing to offer his own. He’d offer anything the villain wanted for his sister’s life.
Wilbur flew fast until he landed on the steps of Gamble’s casinos. It only took a few seconds before he was surrounded by some of Gamble’s lackeys.
“What the fuck is going on here?”
“I want to make a deal with Gamble,” Wilbur said looking into the eyes of the nearest villain, “Whatever he wants if he heals my companion here.”
“Go get Gamble,” the nearest villain, Rosethorn he thinks, said to one of the others before she turned back to him, “You come with me. We’ll take her to get medical attention.”
Wilbur felt so much tension leave him, “Right...”
“Um, Rose, I don’t think he—”
That was all Wilbur heard before everything went black.
When Wilbur came to, the first thing he noticed was that he was laying on something extremely soft and comfortable. He was warm, it made him want to snuggle further into whatever it was that was so soft and comforting to him. Wilbur just wanted to drift back into a deeper sleep and not wake up for a week.
At least, until he remembered exactly what had been doing before he passed out.
Wilbur jolted into an upright position. He instinctively reached up to check his mask – it was still in place, which was a minor relief. Then he looked around his environment. He was in a nest made from pillows and blankets. Expensive pillows and blankets, ones specifically designed for nesting purposes. It was built on a large, round bed, with a red canopy surrounding it. Wilbur could see into the room through the canopy since the fabric was transparent.
Someone was in the room with him.
“Hello?” Wilbur asked cautiously.
The shadowed figure in the corner hummed, “What are you doing here, songbird?”
Oh, that was Gamble.
Wilbur looked away, “I told your lackeys outside.”
“I want to hear it from you.”
“How is Flare doing?” Wilbur asked instead.
Gamble paused for a moment, “She’s doing well. We got her to a healer, and they managed to heal most of the damage. It’s her weight that’s the main concern. Same goes for you, so we’re not letting you leave without eating some avian hybrid specific food.”
Wilbur nodded hesitantly at that. They both knew how much avians needed to eat, especially if they had powers. Unfortunately for the sibling duo, they couldn’t always get their hands on the right amount of food. They had enough to get by, but they really should have been eating more given their powers and their vigilante activities.
“You’re avoiding my question, songbird,” Gamble sighed.
“I had nowhere else to go,” Wilbur replied.
“Hm?”
Wilbur turned to look at him through the sheer canopy, “I had nowhere else to go! My sister was dying, and my only options were the Hero Committee or you! Do you know what the Hero Committee would have done if I went to them?”
The villain made a thoughtful noise, “Probably put you back under your father’s custody and force you to endure those dreadful re-indoctrination programs.”
“Right,” Wilbur went to slump back into the nest before he paused, “Wait… what did you say?”
Gamble chuckled a little bit, “Your father, the Crow?”
“You know who I am. You know who Flare is,” Wilbur said as he shifted further back into the nest.
Wilbur watched as the silhouette of Gamble tilted his head. Then the villain shifted and started to move closer. Wilbur could hear the sound of his heart beating frantically in his chest as the villain slowly, casually moved closer and closer to the best. Then the villain pulled back the sheer canopy, and pulled it back. Wilbur realized two things.
The first, was that Gamble – the villain that guarded all personal information brutally and efficiently – hadn’t been wearing a mask for their entire conversation.
The second realization was that Wilbur recognized that face.
“Quackity?”
Quackity grinned, equal parts wicked and lovely, “Hello, songbird. I see you remember me.”
Wilbur did. Vividly. Quackity and him had been classmates during one of the hero training programs. They had a bit of a rivalry back then, and yet they were practically glued to the hip. Wilbur has always thought Quackity had a good chance of gaining the spotlight as a top hero. But pretty early on, Quackity found his enrollment canceled.
Personality conflicts. That had been the official explanation. Wilbur remembered it differently. He remembered helping Quackity pack the bags in his dorm room, he remembered Quackity crying in frustration over being sent home due to his hybrid’s violent nature and associations. He remembered holding Quackity as he cried. That had been the last day he had heard from Quackity. Wilbur had always wondered what had happened to him.
“You became a villain?” Wilbur questioned, “You became Gamble ?”
“Don’t sound so surprised, we both know exactly how corrupt the heroes are. Neither of us would be here if they weren’t,” Quackity said as he crawled into the nest.
Wilbur felt his face warm as he realized that he was in Quackity’s nest.
“There is a difference between becoming a villain and a vigilante,” Wilbur muttered as he tried to turn away.
Quackity gently cupped his chin and forced him to look back at him, “Don’t look away songbird. You want to debate the morality of heroes and villains, then you can look me in the eyes as you do so.”
Wilbur shoved his hand away, “We’re not doing this.”
“Doing what?”
“This isn’t the same thing as a simple training program, Quackity,” Wilbur said, “This… you’re a villain. A terrorist. I can’t just… do whatever the fuck we’re doing right now!”
“Say the words out loud, Wilbur. Say what we’re actually doing,” Quackity countered.
Wilbur felt Quackity slowly push him down onto his back, so that Wilbur was forced to stare up at him. There was a light above the shrike hybrid’s head in a twisted, red mockery of a halo. Wilbur was left a little dizzy at the sight, Quackity’s eyes almost seemed to glow a little from that angle. Quackity looked so, so smug.
“You’re dangerous, Quackity,” Wilbur tried.
Quackity shook his head, “Not to you. Never to you. I’ll keep you safe, I swear.”
“I don’t want this. I don’t want you.”
“Then leave. You have all your things. I’m not using much force to hold you down,” Quackity smirked.
That was something Wilbur couldn’t argue against. Quackity’s grip was loose and soft, and he wasn’t even putting any of his weight on the vigilante. All Wilbur would have had to do was to push him off and he’d be able to get out of the best. Wilbur lifted his hands hesitantly to Quackity’s shoulders, as if to do so.
Yet he wouldn’t push Quackity off.
He couldn’t bring himself to push Quackity off.
“Just admit it, songbird,” Quackity leaned down to whisper in his ear, “You’ve missed me. You’ve missed this, you’ve missed us.”
“I shouldn’t,” Wilbur whispered back.
Quackity grinned, “And yet you do. Why not just give in?”
Wilbur couldn’t argue with that. Not as Quackity pressed their lips together and made Wilbur completely melt. All Wilbur could focus on was the taste of Quackity, the feeling of his body pressed against his own, the hands that roamed over his body as they kissed each other. When they pulled back, Wilbur couldn’t deny that he had tried to chase after the kiss.
“I missed you, songbird,” Quackity whispered against his lips.
“I missed you too,” Wilbur whispered back.
They didn’t leave that nest for the next few hours.