Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It had been four months, two weeks, and three days since anyone last saw Romeo.

Not that anyone was counting. Not out loud, anyway.

The first few weeks had been surprisingly quiet. No robotic attacks on the school science fair. No jetpacks zipping overhead during villain meetings. No smug voice crackling through hacked intercoms with promises of world domination. And for the first time in years, the city skyline was free of giant, chaotic mechas silhouetted against the moonlight.

The quiet was... unsettling.

Luna Girl noticed it first, though she'd rather swallow her moon magnet than admit it. She was lounging on the rooftop of an abandoned shopping mall, her combat boots propped up on a rusted AC unit as she absently fiddled with her crescent-shaped earrings. The moon glowed bright and silver above her, casting long shadows and soft light across the concrete jungle below.

And still—no Romeo.

She muttered under her breath, "No jetpack crashes, no maniacal speeches... Did the guy finally invent a personality and fly away?"

She scoffed and took a bite of the apple she'd stolen from a convenience store just to cause trouble. It didn’t taste right. Everything felt a little off lately.

Meanwhile, across the city, Night Ninja was pretending not to care.

Which meant he absolutely cared.

He stood in the shadows of an old warehouse, arms crossed, hood pulled over his dark curls. His Ninjalinos skittered around him, arguing in soft, high-pitched gibberish. He didn’t understand all of it, but he picked up the words “Romeo,” “missing,” and “probably exploded himself.”

He clicked his tongue. "Tch. Serves him right if he finally fried his brain trying to build a teleporting toaster."

Still, his eyes kept drifting toward the skyline, toward where Romeo's lair used to glow faint blue at night.

It had been dark for weeks.

And that bugged him.

Because if anyone was going to defeat Romeo, it was going to be him.

Right?

The villains didn’t talk about it at first. Not directly.

They bumped into each other during small heists, petty break-ins, or when they were just bored and needed to loiter somewhere dramatic. But Romeo's absence kept hanging in the air like a bad smell.

Pharaoh Boy mentioned it once, offhandedly, while examining an ancient relic in the museum’s off-limits wing.

“Romeo would’ve tried to steal this by now,” he murmured, twirling his staff idly.

Rip, sitting cross-legged on the floor while Kevin juggled priceless artifacts behind her, snorted. “Maybe he got a life.”

Kevin added, “Maybe he got a girlfriend!”

Night Ninja made a face. “Gross.”

Octobella, perched on a display case with one headphone in and her combat boots dripping pond water, glanced up from her phone. “What if he just finally realized he’s not special?”

“No offense,” Pharaoh Boy drawled, “but if Romeo isn’t around to steal things, it makes it easier for me to conquer the world. So maybe we should enjoy it.”

“Yeah,” Luna Girl said from the shadows. “Except it’s not fun anymore.”

That silenced the group for a moment.

Even Rip blinked. “Wait. Did you just say you miss him?”

“I didn’t say that,” Luna Girl snapped, standing up fast. “I said—it’s not fun. We’re villains. We compete. We outsmart each other. We mess with the PJ Masks. If Romeo’s not around, it’s just...”

She trailed off.

Kevin whispered, “Lonely?”

Octobella rolled her eyes. “Oh my god, this is pathetic.”

Pharaoh Boy leaned on his staff. “So what, we go find him?”

Night Ninja didn’t answer. His eyes were narrowed at the skyline, where the outline of Romeo’s old lab still stood like a broken tooth.

“I already tried,” he muttered.

Luna Girl turned sharply. “You what?”

He glanced at her, annoyed. “I was in the area.”

“No one just is in the area of Romeo’s lab. It’s rigged with paranoia lasers and—”

“I checked, okay?”

There was a beat.

“And?” Pharaoh Boy asked, sounding bored but listening closely.

Night Ninja clenched his jaw. “It was empty. Torn apart. Like he just... walked away. No notes. No gadgets. No stupid monologue explaining it all.”

For a moment, no one said anything.

And then Luna Girl spoke, quiet and serious.

“Something happened to him.”

Night Ninja’s voice wasn’t the kind that cracked often. He didn’t hesitate, didn’t falter, didn’t do this... uncertain thing. The group picked up on it right away.

Rip leaned forward, squinting at him like he was a puzzle she hadn’t figured out yet. “You actually looked for him. That’s not very on-brand for you.”

He scoffed. “I had a feeling. And I don’t ignore those.”

“You’ve never had feelings,” Octobella said with a teasing grin.

“I said a feeling. Singular. Don't get weird about it.”

Kevin giggled. “Awww, does Night Ninja miss his little rival—?”

Night Ninja’s hand twitched, and Kevin immediately got pelted with a throwing star that lodged into the wall next to his head. He yelped and ducked.

Luna Girl rolled her eyes, though a small smirk twitched at her lips. “Okay, okay, don’t start throwing tantrums. I’m serious now—if Romeo is missing, and not just ghosting us all with one of his ‘better than thou’ superiority complexes, then that’s actually... a problem.”

“Because you miss him?” Rip asked.

“Because I owe him money,” Luna Girl snapped.

There was a long silence.

“Wait, what?” Pharaoh Boy raised an eyebrow.

Luna Girl crossed her arms and looked away. “I was gonna pay him back. Eventually.”

Octobella laughed. “We’ve all hit rock bottom, but borrowing money from Romeo? Wow.”

“It was for science,” Luna Girl muttered.

Night Ninja sighed, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Look, you losers can make jokes all you want, but something’s off. He didn’t just leave. His lab looked... trashed. Like he was in a rush or—”

“Or someone took him,” Octobella finished, sitting upright now, her joking tone gone.

That one thought dropped over the group like a weight.

Suddenly, the abandoned rooftop felt colder. Still. Too still.

Pharaoh Boy cleared his throat. “If he’s been captured... that would explain why the PJ Masks haven’t said anything. They want us to think we’re paranoid. Keep us rattled.”

“That’s a stupid theory,” Rip said flatly.

“But not impossible,” Luna Girl muttered.

Kevin raised a hand. “What if he’s dead?”

“Shut up,” Night Ninja said automatically.

“No, seriously,” Kevin pressed, now fully sitting up, “what if he got caught in one of his own explosions and poof—he's gone? Like ashes in the wind? That happens in movies all the time!”

“Romeo wouldn’t die by accident,” Night Ninja said, sharper now. “He’d die dramatically. Screaming at the sky. Wearing a cape.”

“Do you know how weirdly specific that sounds?” Rip muttered, tilting her head at him.

“I'm just saying,” Night Ninja snapped, “he’d never leave without his schematics. Or his goggles. He left both.”

Luna Girl blinked. “Wait. He left the goggles?”

“Yeah. On the table. Still cracked from the last time he fell down the elevator shaft.”

There was a long, eerie pause.

Luna Girl stood up. “Okay. Nope. That’s not normal. We’re officially calling a meeting.”

“A villain meeting?” Kevin asked.

“No, a therapy session,” Luna Girl snapped. “Yes, a villain meeting. I’m sick of the PJ Masks always acting like they’re the only ones allowed to care about people. We can investigate. We’re smart. Mostly.”

“Speak for yourself,” Rip said, gesturing vaguely at Kevin.

Kevin gave her a thumbs up.

Night Ninja glanced around. “So we’re actually doing this?”

“I’m in,” Luna Girl said quickly.

“I hate him,” Octobella reminded everyone. “But I’ll come for the drama.”

“I want answers,” Pharaoh Boy said simply. “And if he’s out of the picture for real, I want his blueprints.”

“I want to find out if he really had a secret evil twin,” Kevin chimed in. “I swear I heard him arguing with someone once, and it sounded exactly like him but ruder.”

They all stared at him.

“…What? It could be real.”

Rip stretched. “Fine. I’m in. But I’m not doing it for him. I’m doing it for the possible scavenging opportunities in his lab.”

They turned back to Night Ninja.

He rolled his eyes. “I already said I checked it. It’s—fine. Whatever. We’ll go again. You’ll see I’m right.”

Luna Girl nodded. “Then it’s settled. We meet tomorrow. Midnight. Romeo’s lab.”

She paused.

“…And if anyone tells the PJ Masks about this, I’ll drop-kick you into orbit.”

Kevin raised a hand. “Can I bring snacks?”

“No.”

Later that night, Night Ninja stood on top of the ruined bell tower where he usually trained alone. The city lights flickered far below, and the moon bathed everything in silver.

He crossed his arms, staring toward the abandoned outskirts where Romeo’s lab squatted like a haunted memory.

He still remembered the last time they’d seen each other.

It was stupid. A regular bicker-fest over who had priority over the stolen magnet core from the PJ Masks’ base. Night Ninja had taken it. Romeo had chased him down. They’d ended up shouting over each other for ten minutes straight before Romeo had said something snide and tripped on a curb, falling face-first into a dumpster.

Night Ninja had laughed. Hard.

Romeo had pouted. Called him an “insufferable ninja cockroach.”

And that was it.

That was the last time.

Night Ninja looked up at the stars.

“…You better not be dead, you idiot.”

He adjusted his hood and vanished into the shadows.

Chapter Text

Night Ninja’s voice wasn’t the kind that cracked often. He didn’t hesitate, didn’t falter, didn’t do this... uncertain thing. The group picked up on it right away.

Rip leaned forward, squinting at him like he was a puzzle she hadn’t figured out yet. “You actually looked for him. That’s not very on-brand for you.”

He scoffed. “I had a feeling. And I don’t ignore those.”

“You’ve never had feelings,” Octobella said with a teasing grin.

“I said a feeling. Singular. Don't get weird about it.”

Kevin giggled. “Awww, does Night Ninja miss his little rival—?”

Night Ninja’s hand twitched, and Kevin immediately got pelted with a throwing star that lodged into the wall next to his head. He yelped and ducked.

Luna Girl rolled her eyes, though a small smirk twitched at her lips. “Okay, okay, don’t start throwing tantrums. I’m serious now—if Romeo is missing, and not just ghosting us all with one of his ‘better than thou’ superiority complexes, then that’s actually... a problem.”

“Because you miss him?” Rip asked.

“Because I owe him money,” Luna Girl snapped.

There was a long silence.

“Wait, what?” Pharaoh Boy raised an eyebrow.

Luna Girl crossed her arms and looked away. “I was gonna pay him back. Eventually.”

Octobella laughed. “We’ve all hit rock bottom, but borrowing money from Romeo? Wow.”

“It was for science,” Luna Girl muttered.

Night Ninja sighed, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Look, you losers can make jokes all you want, but something’s off. He didn’t just leave. His lab looked... trashed. Like he was in a rush or—”

“Or someone took him,” Octobella finished, sitting upright now, her joking tone gone.

That one thought dropped over the group like a weight.

Suddenly, the abandoned rooftop felt colder. Still. Too still.

Pharaoh Boy cleared his throat. “If he’s been captured... that would explain why the PJ Masks haven’t said anything. They want us to think we’re paranoid. Keep us rattled.”

“That’s a stupid theory,” Rip said flatly.

“But not impossible,” Luna Girl muttered.

Kevin raised a hand. “What if he’s dead?”

“Shut up,” Night Ninja said automatically.

“No, seriously,” Kevin pressed, now fully sitting up, “what if he got caught in one of his own explosions and poof—he's gone? Like ashes in the wind? That happens in movies all the time!”

“Romeo wouldn’t die by accident,” Night Ninja said, sharper now. “He’d die dramatically. Screaming at the sky. Wearing a cape.”

“Do you know how weirdly specific that sounds?” Rip muttered, tilting her head at him.

“I'm just saying,” Night Ninja snapped, “he’d never leave without his schematics. Or his goggles. He left both.”

Luna Girl blinked. “Wait. He left the goggles?”

“Yeah. On the table. Still cracked from the last time he fell down the elevator shaft.”

There was a long, eerie pause.

Luna Girl stood up. “Okay. Nope. That’s not normal. We’re officially calling a meeting.”

“A villain meeting?” Kevin asked.

“No, a therapy session,” Luna Girl snapped. “Yes, a villain meeting. I’m sick of the PJ Masks always acting like they’re the only ones allowed to care about people. We can investigate. We’re smart. Mostly.”

“Speak for yourself,” Rip said, gesturing vaguely at Kevin.

Kevin gave her a thumbs up.

Night Ninja glanced around. “So we’re actually doing this?”

“I’m in,” Luna Girl said quickly.

“I hate him,” Octobella reminded everyone. “But I’ll come for the drama.”

“I want answers,” Pharaoh Boy said simply. “And if he’s out of the picture for real, I want his blueprints.”

“I want to find out if he really had a secret evil twin,” Kevin chimed in. “I swear I heard him arguing with someone once, and it sounded exactly like him but ruder.”

They all stared at him.

“…What? It could be real.”

Rip stretched. “Fine. I’m in. But I’m not doing it for him. I’m doing it for the possible scavenging opportunities in his lab.”

They turned back to Night Ninja.

He rolled his eyes. “I already said I checked it. It’s—fine. Whatever. We’ll go again. You’ll see I’m right.”

Luna Girl nodded. “Then it’s settled. We meet tomorrow. Midnight. Romeo’s lab.”

She paused.

“…And if anyone tells the PJ Masks about this, I’ll drop-kick you into orbit.”

Kevin raised a hand. “Can I bring snacks?”

“No.”

Later that night, Night Ninja stood on top of the ruined bell tower where he usually trained alone. The city lights flickered far below, and the moon bathed everything in silver.

He crossed his arms, staring toward the abandoned outskirts where Romeo’s lab squatted like a haunted memory.

He still remembered the last time they’d seen each other.

It was stupid. A regular bicker-fest over who had priority over the stolen magnet core from the PJ Masks’ base. Night Ninja had taken it. Romeo had chased him down. They’d ended up shouting over each other for ten minutes straight before Romeo had said something snide and tripped on a curb, falling face-first into a dumpster.

Night Ninja had laughed. Hard.

Romeo had pouted. Called him an “insufferable ninja cockroach.”

And that was it.

That was the last time.

Night Ninja looked up at the stars.

“…You better not be dead, you idiot.”

He adjusted his hood and vanished into the shadows.

"...I liked arguing with him," he muttered.

The words felt stupid in his mouth. Too soft. Too human.

"I liked... fighting him. Talking to him. Watching him fall off things when he got excited."

He blinked.

"I liked him?"

The realization hit him in the gut like a sucker punch.

“Oh, ew,” he groaned, dragging both hands down his face.

No. No, no, no. Not happening. Rewind. Un-think that thought.

He paced back and forth on the roof, his usual calculated movements slipping into something more erratic. This was ridiculous. He was a villain. He had a purpose. He didn’t have time for this—whatever this was. Whatever this feeling was that made his chest tighten whenever he thought about Romeo.

Night Ninja growled, clenching his fists so tightly his nails dug into his palms. “I don’t like him. He’s a pain in the ass, always acting like he’s better than everyone, throwing his schemes in my face, acting like he owns the world...”

But there was something else. Something that nagged at him. He kept remembering the way Romeo’s eyes gleamed when he was explaining one of his genius plans—how even when he was pissed off, he always had that smug grin on his face, like he knew he was right. The way he’d gotten flustered the last time they’d argued, his words tripping over themselves when Night Ninja had teased him about his latest failed invention.

And the way his face looked when he stumbled, tripping into that stupid dumpster…

Why was he thinking about that?

Night Ninja slapped his hand against the brick wall, his thoughts spiraling out of control. “No. No, this is not how this works. You can’t just have feelings for him. That’s ridiculous.”

He froze, the weight of his own words sinking in. He felt nauseous.

Romeo had always gotten under his skin in ways that shouldn’t matter. And now... Now, what? This? This strange, uncomfortable feeling that made his skin burn? This wasn’t right. This wasn’t him.

Night Ninja clenched his jaw and shook his head. “You can’t be... gay or whatever. Not for him.” The words felt foreign, like they didn’t even belong in his mouth. They felt dirty, wrong, like an unspoken rule he had been taught deep in his bones from the moment he’d learned how to walk: No one gets to know. You don’t tell anyone. It’s not acceptable. It’s not okay.

It was supposed to be a joke. A joke that no one laughed at but him. A joke he’d kept buried deep, under layers of pride and skill and never let slip. Even though, sometimes, when he was standing alone in the dark, those thoughts would creep in. The things he never wanted anyone else to know about him.

His heart pounded, thumping hard in his chest.

“This is why I don’t get close to people,” he muttered through clenched teeth. “Why I don’t let anyone in.” He turned away from the rooftop’s edge, pacing faster now, his thoughts too loud, too frantic. “He’s Romeo. He’s not—he’s not someone you... someone you—” He slammed his fist into the wall, this time harder, feeling the impact all the way up his arm. “Damn it.”

He stood there, panting, fingers flexing in and out of fists. The wind blew past him, ruffling his hood, but he didn’t feel it. His body was too hot. Too alive with something he didn’t know how to name. Something that scared him.

Night Ninja’s gaze flickered toward the horizon. The moon hung high in the sky, pale and distant, as if mocking him. Look at you, it seemed to whisper. You’re just as messed up as he is.

His mind raced. Romeo’s smirking face appeared in his thoughts again, that smug, self-satisfied smirk that made Night Ninja want to throw something. A villain’s villain. Smart. Cunning. Always one step ahead. And yet... that made it even worse.

“I’m not supposed to feel this,” Night Ninja muttered under his breath, more to himself than anyone else. “This is wrong. I don’t do this.”

He paced again, growing more frantic. “This isn’t some... romantic comedy, where the villain finally admits he has feelings and it’s all happy and cute or whatever.” He made air quotes in the air, mocking the very idea. “No. No, no, no. I’m not going to be one of those idiots. I don’t fall for people. I don’t get soft. I don’t—”

His thoughts broke off with a sharp inhale. He realized something.

It wasn’t just that Romeo made him angry. It wasn’t just that he enjoyed their arguments. Or the way Romeo’s face would scrunch up when he was furious or too proud to admit defeat. Or the way his words would stammer when they were in the middle of a fight. No.

Romeo made him feel things he hadn’t known how to name.

Things he had spent his whole life pushing down, burying deep where no one could see. Because being weak like that? Wanting someone? Wanting anything? It was the thing he feared most.

“You’re a villain, Night Ninja,” he muttered harshly to himself, “You’re better than this. You don’t need people.”

But the words felt empty. Hollow.

His fists clenched again, this time with frustration. “Why does it have to be him? Why does it have to be Romeo? Of all the people, why him?” Night Ninja’s voice cracked on the last word, and the break in his tone made him freeze. He quickly cleared his throat.

He wasn’t weak. He wasn’t.

But the idea of having feelings—any feelings—for Romeo made his stomach twist in a way he couldn’t ignore. He didn’t want this. Didn’t want him. He didn’t want to have to feel this.

Night Ninja had always been self-sufficient. He didn’t need anyone. He didn’t want anyone. Not really. That’s how he’d survived all these years: on his own. Through grit, and determination, and his sharp, dangerous mind. He had his Ninjalinos, yes, but they weren’t his family. They weren’t his friends. They were his soldiers, and that was all.

But this? This was different. It was Romeo. The last person he ever wanted to be attached to. The last person he could ever show any weakness to.

“This is why you don’t get attached,” Night Ninja hissed. “This is why you don’t let anyone in. They make you weak. And once you’re weak... that’s when you lose everything.”

His breath hitched in his throat.

The worst part? Night Ninja had no idea what to do with this newfound knowledge. How was he supposed to act the next time he saw Romeo? What could he say? What could he do? He had never been good at talking. He’d never been good at admitting when he was wrong—or even worse, admitting that someone else had an effect on him.

That wasn’t how the world worked for him. Not until now.

And just thinking about it made his stomach churn.

But he wasn’t going to ignore it. No. He’d fight this. Like he fought everything else. He wasn’t going to be weak for Romeo.

“I’ll just... pretend this never happened,” he muttered, though it didn’t feel convincing. “I’ll pretend I’m fine. I’ll ignore it.”

But deep down, Night Ninja knew it wasn’t that easy.

The realization that he had feelings for Romeo—a person he’d always seen as an enemy, a rival, a fool—made something deep in him snap. Something he hadn’t been prepared for. Something he couldn’t undo.

He ran his fingers through his hair, standing there in the silence, trying to breathe through the panic creeping up on him.

“No,” he whispered, trying to steady himself. “I’m not going to be this weak.”

But the more he said it, the more the words felt like a lie.

And that, more than anything, made him feel like he was already losing.

“You’re a villain, Night Ninja,” he muttered harshly to himself. “You’re better than this. You don’t need people.”

The words sounded empty now. Weak. Like he was just repeating something he’d been taught instead of something he believed. He could hear the way his voice cracked on the last word. He didn’t need anyone. He didn’t. That’s how he survived.

That’s how he always survived.

But now Romeo was in his head. That annoying, genius little freak with his wild hair and louder mouth and those stupid, stupid goggles that somehow made him look cooler instead of dumber. Romeo, with his dramatic entrances and tantrums and the way he’d once actually tried to build a robot that could recite Shakespeare because he got bored.

Night Ninja groaned again and let himself fall flat onto the cold concrete of the roof, limbs splayed out like a ragdoll. His hood slipped a little as the breeze played with the edge of his scarf.

“I wish he was a girl,” he whispered to the sky.

The words came out so quietly he almost didn’t hear them himself. He stared up at the stars, eyes unfocused, chest tight. “If he was a girl, this would be... easier.”

His voice cracked again. This time, he didn’t bother hiding it.

“If he was a girl, I wouldn’t feel... gross. Or broken. Or like something’s wrong with me. I could just say it. Say I liked her. Say I had a dumb crush on some girl who makes evil robots and never shuts up and gets that glint in her eye like she’s going to blow up the world.”

His voice faltered. “But he’s not a girl.”

He rolled onto his side, pulling his scarf tighter over the lower half of his face. He didn’t want the night to see him like this. Didn’t want the moon or the stars or the empty buildings below to witness this pathetic, stupid breakdown.

Chapter Text

Romeo’s POV

The first thing he noticed was how quiet it was.

Not the peaceful kind of quiet. The kind that made your skin crawl. That pressed against your ears and made you aware of your own breathing.

He woke up on a cot that felt like it had been carved out of hospital plastic, with a scratchy sheet barely covering his legs. His head pounded like he’d been hit with a tranq dart—which, knowing these people, probably wasn’t far off.

Romeo blinked up at the pale white ceiling.

No lights. No shadows. Just this... sterile void.

At first, he thought maybe it was a dream. Some weird science-lab-nightmare, where his inventions backfired and he was trapped in one of his own test tubes. But the ache in his neck was too sharp, and the cold in his fingers was too real.

He tried to move—and that’s when the panic kicked in.

His arms were free, but his lab coat was gone. His gloves, gone. His goggles—gone.

He bolted upright, reaching for his face. “Where—where the hell are my—?”

His voice bounced off the walls. The room was empty. No buttons. No windows. No gears, gadgets, or consoles. Just that one flickering camera in the top corner, staring at him like some vulture with a blinking red eye.

“Okay,” he breathed. “Okay. Cool. I’m in jail. This is fine. This is... probably the PJ Masks’ fault. Or Luna Girl pulling a really elaborate prank. Ha ha. Very funny, guys.”

He stood up shakily, knees locking. The floor was too clean. Like a hospital floor that had never seen dirt, blood, or mistakes.

He crossed to the door. Metal. Sealed. No handle.

Romeo pressed both palms against it, trying to feel for heat, vibrations—anything. But it might as well have been a wall from one of his own robot labs.

That’s when it really sank in.

This wasn’t a prank. It wasn’t kid stuff. This wasn’t some hero camp or juvenile villain reform school.

This was something else.

Something bigger. Scarier. Something that didn’t need gadgets or grand entrances because it had money. Power. Connections.

And no rules.

His breath hitched.

He remembered what they’d said when they dragged him in. Their uniforms didn’t have names. Just a symbol—a white circle with a black square inside. Their voices were pleasant. Too pleasant.

“This is a rehabilitation facility,” one of them had said while they strapped something around his wrist that injected him with something.

“You’ll be a brand new boy soon.”

They smiled like they were giving him candy.

Romeo knew how to lie. Knew how to bluff and manipulate and outsmart anyone in the room. But when that thing in the hallway screamed—something inhuman and muffled by metal—he’d lost his cool for half a second.

Just one second.

He didn’t think they saw it. But maybe they had. Maybe that’s why they left him here.

“Rehabilitation,” he muttered bitterly, pacing. “Yeah, right. You don’t rehabilitate people, you traffic them. You scrub ‘villain’ off their forehead and sell them like tech support. Or pets.”

He turned to the camera, squinting at it with venom.

“I’m not stupid, you know. I figured it out. I’m Romeo. I reverse-engineered alien technology when I was seven. I cloned myself by accident when I was ten. You really think I don’t know when I’m being packaged for something?”

No response.

He hated the silence more than anything. He hated the waiting. He wanted noise. Chaos. Screams. Something real.

He hated the silence more than anything.
He hated the waiting.
He wanted noise. Chaos. Screams. Something real.

Even the PJ Masks yelling at him to surrender would’ve been welcome right now. Even that stupid, echoing voice Night Ninja always used when he was trying to sound taller than he was. “You’ll never win, metalhead!” or something equally dramatic. Romeo used to roll his eyes at it.

But right now?
He’d kill for it.

The silence was the worst because it left too much room in his head. It filled the spaces between thoughts with what ifs. What if he never got out? What if this place didn’t want anything from him? What if they didn’t care about his brain, his inventions, his genius?

What if they just wanted to break him?

He laughed, a sharp, brittle sound that cracked in his throat. “Good luck with that,” he said out loud, to no one. “I’ve already been broken in, thank you. Pre-owned model.”

It echoed. And then—nothing.

Again.

Romeo leaned against the wall, sliding down until he was sitting on the cold floor. The corner of the room was the only place that felt like it belonged to him. Like he’d carved it out, claimed it. The air was stale, the kind of sterile that made your skin feel wrong. He could smell faint disinfectant beneath the metal tang of fear.

And still, nothing.

No one had come since they dumped him here. No interrogations. No injections. No creepy “We only want to help” speeches. Just isolation. Silence. Like they were waiting for him to crack himself open.

He wrapped his arms around his knees.

“I’m not scared,” he said, too loud.

But the way his voice trembled betrayed him.

The thing was—he had plans. Backup plans, even. He’d counted the minutes. Tracked the flickering light patterns on the ceiling. Traced the frequency of the hum in the walls, which might’ve been electric currents or ventilation or something worse. He’d scraped his thumbnail raw against the floor searching for loose tiles, tiny screws, panels—anything.

But there was nothing.

This place didn’t have weaknesses. At least, not the kind he could see.

And it terrified him.

Because if there were no cracks to crawl through, he’d have to wait. Sit still. Hope someone remembered he was missing.

But who would?

His robot? Maybe. It had loyalty protocols, sure, but the little guy’s processing power wasn’t meant for long-term missions. Luna Girl? Hah. Only if it benefited her. The wolf kids didn’t even know how to spell “rescue.”

He buried his face in his arms. His shoulders trembled, but he told himself it was because he was cold.

He wasn’t crying.

He wasn’t.

The door hissed.

It wasn’t loud. Just a soft shift of pressure, like a whisper through a crack.

He froze.

Then slowly—slowly—lifted his head.

The metal door slid open with a sound like a snake exhaling.

Two people stood in the hall. One wore white. The other wore black. Identical masks. Identical posture. Like mannequins.

Romeo didn’t speak.

He waited.

One of them stepped in. The taller one. They didn’t say anything. Just crossed the room, knelt in front of him, and clipped something to his wrist.

A thick silver cuff.

Romeo flinched. “What the hell is that?”

“Progress monitor,” the one in black said. Their voice was too smooth. Almost synthetic.

“I’m not part of your rehab club,” he spat. “I don’t want your therapy bracelet.”

“It’s not therapy,” the one in white replied. “It’s compliance tracking.”

That shut him up.

He stared down at the cuff. No buttons. No seams. But it pulsed—just faintly—like a heartbeat.

He swallowed thickly.

“You don’t have a choice,” black-mask added. “No one here does.”

Then they turned and left.

The door sealed again behind them. The light flickered. The camera blinked red.

Romeo sat very still for a long time.

The cuff on his wrist grew colder. He could feel it syncing to him—reading his vitals, maybe even his brainwaves.

He was being cataloged. Filed. Owned.

He curled his fingers into a fist.

But not for long.

They might have him for now.

But he wasn’t just some street-level villain with a jetpack and a few gadgets.

He was Romeo.

And he was going to burn this place to the ground.

Even if no one came looking for him.

He was getting out.

And when he did—he’d make them all regret ever touching him.

Chapter Text

Luna Girl had gone quiet.

Which was weird. Unnerving, even. Like the moon was hiding behind a cloud that refused to move.

Night Ninja stood against the wall of the abandoned observatory they’d all camped out in. His arms were crossed.

The others were gathered loosely around the center—Octobella messing with a puddle of seawater she’d summoned into a bowl shape, Pharaoh Boy doing completely nothing, the Wolfy Kids chasing a fly like it owed them money.

None of them said it out loud.

But they all knew something was wrong.

“I still think he’s hiding,” Kevin offered, half-heartedly. “Like, maybe Romeo just made himself invisible or something. He does stuff like that.”

“Romeo’s a lot of things,” Luna Girl muttered, still staring out the cracked window. “But quiet isn’t one of them.”

Octobella tilted her head. “Maybe he’s pulling a prank. Like, hiding out to make us worry. Then he’ll jump out and laugh and be like, ‘Ohh, you fools! Classic Romeo!’” She mimicked his voice badly and flicked water at the ground. “You know. Drama.”

Night Ninja didn’t laugh.

Not even a smirk.

He was too busy chewing on the inside of his cheek, thoughts spiraling like a whirlpool. He didn’t want to say what he was thinking. He didn’t want it to be true.

Because Romeo was smart. Cunning. Careful, even when he was reckless. He didn’t just disappear.

And that weird feeling Night Ninja had had for the last few days—tight in his chest, sharp in his gut, like a puzzle with one piece missing—wasn’t going away.

In fact, it was getting worse.

He watched the others through half-lidded eyes. None of them noticed how tense his shoulders were. How close he was to snapping.

“He’d be back by now,” he said flatly.

The room stilled. Even the wolf kids paused, which was a miracle.

Luna Girl turned from the window. “Yeah,” she said. “He would.”

Pharaoh Boy scoffed but didn’t look up from his tablet. “Maybe he finally got tired of failing and ran off to build robots somewhere else.”

“Maybe someone took him,” Night Ninja said, too quickly.

Everyone looked at him.

He didn’t look back.

Octobella raised an eyebrow. “Took him? Who?”

“I don’t know. Some government creeps. PJ Masks. Some secret anti-villain task force. Aliens. I don’t know.” He shrugged too hard. “It happens.”

Luna Girl squinted at him. “Okay. What do you know?”

“I know Romeo doesn’t vanish,” he snapped.

And then regretted it.

There was silence. Again.

He sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “I just… I feel it. Something’s wrong. We all know it.”

No one argued.

Because deep down, they felt it too.

They’d all fought beside Romeo. Fought against him. Teamed up, split apart, betrayed each other, then made up again in the span of a week. They were villains—but they were still a weird little ecosystem. And Romeo? He was always there. Loud. Annoying. Full of himself. Smart as hell.

And now he wasn’t.

“He was being weird last week,” Luna Girl said finally, arms crossed. “Kept writing stuff down. Talking to himself more than usual.”

“He always does that,” Octobella said.

“No. This was different. Like... distracted.”

Night Ninja’s throat felt tight. He remembered it too. The last time they talked, Romeo had tripped over a rock, stood up pretending it didn’t happen, then started ranting about gravitational flux stabilizers. Night Ninja had insulted his hair. Romeo had called him a sparkle reject. It was a good day.

A normal day.

He hadn’t realized it might be the last one.

“Do we look for him?” Howler asked, voice surprisingly small.

The question hung in the air like a cloud of dust no one wanted to breathe in.

Luna Girl stared at the floor.

Octobella bit her lip.

Night Ninja stood up straight. “Yes.”

That got their attention.

He ignored the stares. “We find him. We have to. If it were any of you, he’d—” He stopped. Bit the inside of his cheek. “…He wouldn’t leave it alone.”

The words surprised even him.

They hung in the air for a moment—raw, heavy, a little too honest. Like something fragile he hadn't meant to drop.

He didn’t mean to sound like that. Didn’t mean to care that much. But it slipped out before he could polish it into something snarky and safe. And now everyone was looking at him like he’d grown a second head.

Luna Girl tilted hers, a strange look crossing her face. Not smug. Not mocking. Something almost like recognition. “Huh,” she said. “So that’s what this is.”

Night Ninja’s face went hot. “No, it’s not—shut up.”

“I didn’t even say anything yet,” she said with a smirk.

“You don’t have to.”

Octobella’s voice broke through, sing-song and infuriating. “Night Ninja’s got a cruuuuush~”

He spun to face her, teeth bared. “Say that again and I’ll turn you into seafood.”

She just grinned wider, swirling the water in her hands. “Touchy. Must be serious.”

The Wolfy Kids were already howling with laughter, piling onto each other like this was the best entertainment they’d had in weeks.

“Guys, come on,” Luna Girl said, actually stepping between them. “Can we not be five years old for one second? Romeo’s gone. We don’t know where. And Night Ninja’s right. Something’s off.”

The others quieted, slowly. Even the wolves stilled, sensing the shift.

Night Ninja took a shaky breath and folded his arms again. His mask felt too tight. His chest even tighter.

“I don’t…” He swallowed. “I don’t know what it is. I just know he wouldn’t leave without gloating first.”

Everyone nodded at that. Yeah. That sounded like Romeo.

“And if he was taken…” His voice dipped lower. “If someone did something to him—”

“They’ll regret it,” Luna Girl finished for him, voice low.

They stood in silence for a long moment. Not awkward. Not tense. Just… solid.

For once, united.

Octobella clicked her tongue. “So what now? Stakeout the city? Hack PJ Masks’ HQ?”

Pharaoh Boy sighed dramatically. “As fun as it sounds to go to war with the entire hero infrastructure, I suggest we get more information before we charge in like idiots.”

Night Ninja narrowed his eyes. “Romeo always backed up his projects. In like, twelve places. If we can find one of his hideouts, maybe there’s something.”

Luna Girl grinned. “That’s more like it. I know where one is—he used it to build that robot that launched rubber ducks everywhere. PJ Masks never found it.”

Night Ninja’s stomach flipped, but he forced it down. Focus. Plan. Act.

It was easier than feeling.

“Good. We check it out tonight.”

“And if it’s empty?”

“Then we check the next one. And the next.”

He didn’t say “until we find him.” He didn’t have to.

The others were already moving, gearing up, slipping back into their roles—chaotic, dangerous, unpredictable. But tonight, they weren’t just villains.

Tonight, they were a rescue squad.

Night Ninja lingered behind for a second as the others filed out. He stood in the center of the observatory, staring up at the broken skylight where a bit of gray-blue sky peeked through.

He rubbed his arms. The silence returned.

Romeo would have hated it, too. He’d have filled it with ranting. Lectures. Bragging. Plans too big for his own good.

And now he was gone.

Night Ninja exhaled sharply through his nose. He didn’t know what he was feeling. Not really. It was like trying to see through fog. But there was something burning behind it all.

Fear?

Guilt?

Hope?

He muttered, “You better be okay, nerd. Because if you’re dead, I’m gonna kill you myself.”

And then he followed the others into the night.

Chapter Text

The hideout was half-collapsed when they got there.

One of Romeo’s older ones. Hidden beneath a forgotten warehouse at the edge of town, behind rusted shipping crates and broken machinery no one had touched in years. It stank of oil and dust and the faint chemical tang of whatever ungodly potion he’d been brewing last time he was here.

Night Ninja clicked his flashlight on and swept it across the room. Shadows danced along the cracked walls, where blueprints curled like drying leaves and papers littered the floor in chaotic bursts.

“Ugh,” Luna Girl muttered, stepping over a pile of scorched circuit boards. “Did he ever clean?”

“No,” Night Ninja said immediately. Then, softer, “He said the clutter helped his brain think.”

The silence that followed was tight. No one mocked him for the comment. No one even looked at him.

They were already searching.

Octobella used her tentacles to pull open cabinets, careful not to trigger anything. Pharaoh Boy stood with a flashlight angled like a museum curator, examining a wall covered in frantic scrawls and equations. The Wolfy Kids were sniffing and poking things, ignoring all advice about being careful.

Night Ninja walked further in.

He remembered this place. Romeo had dragged him here once after a failed team-up, ranting about “version 2.7 of the ionizer” and how the PJ Masks wouldn’t know what hit them next time. He remembered rolling his eyes and pretending to hate every second—because he was supposed to. That was their thing.

He ran a hand over the dented metal desk, fingers trailing through the dust. There were old photos stuck under the surface’s plastic sheet—screenshots of failed inventions, a selfie with Robot, even one blurry, tilted image that looked suspiciously like him, mid-scowl.

Night Ninja’s chest did something weird.

He pulled open a drawer.

More papers. More notebooks. One labeled Not for Luna Girl’s nosy eyes which he quickly shoved under his arm out of pure instinct.

“Found anything?” Luna Girl called out from across the room.

“Nothing useful yet,” he replied, though the notebook felt warm and heavy.

He didn’t tell her about it. He didn’t know why.

“Guys!” one of the Wolfies shouted. “This computer thingy’s still on!”

Everyone scrambled over.

It was a dusty, beat-up console with a green blinking cursor. It shouldn’t have had power, but it hummed faintly, as if Romeo himself had just stepped out and left it running. There was no welcome screen. No password prompt. Just a text box.

Luna Girl leaned forward and typed:
HELLO?

The blinking cursor paused, flickering once.
Then, the screen shifted. A cold green font appeared on the black backdrop:

Welcome, Romeo. Last login: 6 days ago.
Authentication bypassed.
Protocol “Red Sky” initiated.

Surveillance Footage

Audio Log

Coordinates

Emergency Contact Message (Unsent)

They all leaned in.

“I don’t like this,” Octobella muttered, wrapping her arms around herself. “What kind of villain needs an emergency contact?”

Luna Girl ignored her and clicked on the Surveillance Footage first.

A grainy video filled the screen—Romeo’s lab. Not this one, but a newer hideout. The kind only he knew how to build, where walls blinked with tech and tubes bubbled like mad science dreams. He was on screen, pacing hard, muttering to himself.

The timestamp was from six days ago.

He looked… paranoid. Tired. Distracted. Eyes wide, talking into a recorder with one hand and sealing boxes with the other. Occasionally, he’d flinch at noises offscreen, jerking toward the sound with frantic energy.

Night Ninja leaned forward, his mouth dry. Romeo's voice didn’t sound like his usual smug self. It sounded like someone on the edge of something bad.

“Where’s Robot?” asked Pharaoh Boy quietly.

Romeo suddenly turned toward the camera. A sharp cut followed—and then darkness.

The feed ended.

Luna Girl didn’t speak. No one did.

She clicked on the Audio Log next.

“Okay. I don’t know how long I have. I don’t even know if this’ll save. Something’s wrong. There’s this group— they don’t leave names. They say they’re here to ‘help.’ But they’re not. They’re taking villains. Not locking us up. Not handing us over to the PJ Masks. They’re just disappearing people.”

There was static.

“They think I’m worth more. That I’m smart enough to fix things for them. I’ve been playing along. For now. But if this is the last message, it means I ran out of moves.”

A short breath.

“If someone finds this—"

Another cut. Sharper this time.

Then nothing.

The screen returned to its cold green options.

Luna Girl reached slowly toward Option 4: Emergency Contact Message (Unsent).

Night Ninja caught her wrist.

“I’ll do it,” he said, voice low.

She blinked, then stepped back without protest.

He clicked.

The message opened in a text document, half-finished. It wasn’t even in full sentences, just half-thoughts. Desperate. Unfiltered.

NN you’re the only person I don’t hate being around. I mean I hate you, obviously, but like, not really. You get me. Not like them. If I—if I don’t come back, I don’t want you to think I went soft or gave up. I just didn’t get lucky this time. You should probably burn this message after you read it. Or gloat. I dunno. You’ll figure it out. But I wanted to say—

And then it stopped.

That was all.

Night Ninja stared at it, fingers trembling over the keyboard.

Something twisted in his stomach, the way it did when he’d let himself think about that horrible realization: that maybe he didn’t hate Romeo. That maybe he—

No. Not now.

Something twisted in his stomach, the way it did when he’d let himself think about that horrible realization: that maybe he didn’t hate Romeo. That maybe he—

No. Not now.

Luna Girl’s voice broke the silence.
“Well, let’s go to his other hideouts.”

Her tone was flat, but her eyes were moving fast, flicking across the screen like she was trying to memorize every line, every pixel. She didn’t want to look at any of them. Not even him.

“Right,” Night Ninja muttered, stepping back from the console like it burned him. “Yeah. Good idea.”

They split up quickly after that. Not in a dramatic way—just the kind of way that happens when a group starts to feel like too many people with too many thoughts, too much tension. Pharaoh Boy vanished into a shimmer of gold and dust. The Wolfies darted ahead to scout without being told. Octobella slinked out without a word.

Night Ninja didn’t move right away. He stared at the keyboard, chewing the inside of his cheek.

What had Romeo meant to say? *You should burn this message. Or gloat. But I wanted to say—*
Say what?

And why did it matter so much to him?

He forced himself to walk away. Every step felt like trying to lift bricks with his knees. He caught up with Luna Girl just outside the rusted door.

She stopped him with a glance. “You good?”

He hesitated.

“No,” he answered truthfully.

She stared for a beat. “Cool. Me neither.”

Then she floated up onto her hoverboard and zipped off toward the treetops, heading for the ridge where Romeo’s second hideout was rumored to be.

Night Ninja took the long way.

He didn’t want to be seen right now. He needed air. Space. A break from the awful squeezing in his chest that wouldn’t go away, like something sharp lodged itself behind his ribs.

The thing was, he was scared. Not just for Romeo, but of the way Romeo had always gotten under his skin. The way Romeo’s voice would rise when he got excited, the way he talked so fast and so loud like he was the smartest person alive and knew it, and Night Ninja hated that he kind of liked it. That he liked him.

He dragged his hand down his face.

And he’d said it out loud last night. Alone. Sitting in the trees. Like a complete idiot:

“I wish he was a girl.”

It had spilled out without him meaning to. A stupid thought, born from the mess of feelings he didn’t know what to do with.

Because if Romeo were a girl, none of this would be a problem. He could like her and no one would question it. He wouldn’t be sitting in this uncomfortable, swirling storm of what does this mean about me? and is this wrong? and what if everyone finds out?

But Romeo wasn’t a girl.

He was Romeo. Loud, chaotic, dramatic, brilliant, annoying Romeo.

And now he was gone.

Night Ninja clenched his fists, staring into the trees.

If Romeo had been kidnapped—if he was really being trafficked by some twisted organization—then this was bigger than the PJ Masks. Bigger than any of them. And yet, it felt personal. Like someone had taken something from him.

Because even if he hadn’t figured everything out, even if he didn’t know what he felt—he felt something.

And they’d taken it.

He sprinted up the hill without waiting for the others.

When he reached the next hideout—Romeo’s bunker built into a craggy cliffside—he didn’t wait. He ripped the hatch open with a grunt, storming in before the dust had even settled.

The lights flickered on automatically. The place was cleaner than the last. Organized. Almost eerily so.

It made his skin crawl.

He turned on the first terminal and scrolled through the last accessed files. Nothing useful. Then to the next one. Same thing.

Finally, tucked in the third terminal’s private server, he found it: a set of messages labeled “Fail-safes.”

One of them was titled IF I DISAPPEAR.

He opened it.

“So, if you’re seeing this, I’ve either finally snapped and gone full supervillain, or I’ve been taken. Honestly, if it's the first one, just leave me be. But if it’s the second—well. That’s a bit trickier.”

Night Ninja read every word, barely breathing.

“I have three safe points. You already found one. This is the second. The third is under the lake near the ridge. If I’m not at any of them, I’ve been relocated.”

“They have methods. Tech even I can’t track. Be careful.”

“And if you’re reading this… if it’s you—”

Another pause. Night Ninja could feel his pulse in his ears.

“I’m sorry for being a jerk to you all the time. Mostly. Sort of. Whatever. I’m scared. This isn’t like fighting the PJ Masks. It’s not games anymore.”

Night Ninja swallowed hard.

This was real.

Romeo had known. Had prepared. And now he was probably trapped somewhere, scared and alone, still being clever and mouthy and trying to outwit people who didn’t deserve to breathe the same air as him.

Night Ninja shut the terminal down.

The others would be here soon. They’d find the third hideout. They’d follow every clue.

And he would tear this organization apart with his bare hands if he had to.

He wasn’t sure what this feeling in his chest was—fear, anger, love, all of it at once—but it was loud and it wasn’t going anywhere.

Not until Romeo came back.

Chapter Text

Meanwhile, Back at Hero HQ…

“Guys,” Gekko called from the couch, voice full of fake panic, “I think I just ate five popsicles in a row.”

“Correction,” Owlette said, glancing up from her tablet, “you’ve eaten seven. I’ve been counting.”

“Why didn’t you stop me?!”

“I was conducting an experiment. Turns out your self-control has a limit, and it’s somewhere after ‘lime.’”

Gekko groaned and flopped dramatically onto the floor, clutching his stomach. “This is the end. Tell my lizard family I love them.”

Catboy didn’t look up from where he was sprawled across a beanbag chair, fiddling with a rubber band and a pencil like it was the peak of entertainment. “You’ll survive. Unless those were expired.”

Gekko sat bolt upright. “Wait, were they?!”

“No clue.”

“GUUUUUUYS.”

Owlette snorted.

It had been quiet lately. Suspiciously quiet.

No villain attacks. No strange moon energy spikes. No mysterious hoverboards crashing into HQ. No Romeo broadcasts threatening to “unleash the doom-o-matic 3000” or Luna Girl stealing every streetlamp for a weird light show.

In other words: boring.

At first, they’d enjoyed the break. A couple days of peace? That was great. Awesome, even. They caught up on sleep. Played board games. Watched movies. Ate too many snacks. Gekko made a ridiculous amount of smoothies and tried (and failed) to invent his own hero protein bar.

But now?

Now they were starting to get twitchy.

Owlette looked up from her tablet. “There’s still no movement from Romeo’s lair.”

“Which one?” Catboy asked, sitting up and stretching.

“Any of them.”

“Okay but, like… that’s kinda weird, right?”

Owlette frowned. “Yeah. It is. Even Romeo doesn’t usually go this radio silent.”

“I mean,” Gekko added, looking around, “even Night Ninja hasn’t done anything. No glue traps. No surprise attacks. No ninja splashes in our water bottles.”

They all shuddered.

“I hate it when he does that,” Catboy muttered.

Gekko squinted. “What if they’re… like, teaming up? You know, all of them? Planning something huge?”

Owlette leaned forward. “You think it’s a mega-villain alliance?”

“Yeah!” Gekko nodded. “Like all of them in one big floating base! With lasers and lava pits and—”

“Okay,” Catboy interrupted, “I like how dramatic that sounds, but we would’ve seen something. They’re too chaotic to pull that off without alerting somebody.”

Owlette nodded slowly. “Unless they already did, and something happened.”

The boys stared at her.

“Like what?” Catboy asked.

“I don’t know!” she threw her arms up. “But it’s weird! No one’s done anything in days. Not even a petty theft. Not even the Wolfies trying to turn the park into a wrestling ring again.”

Gekko looked uneasy. “Maybe we should… investigate?”

“You mean spy?” Catboy asked, eyebrows raised.

“Not spy,” Gekko said quickly. “Just… hero observation.”

“What about we see the cameras in the city?” Catboy suggested, already walking toward the HQ’s main computer station. “Just a quick sweep. If anything looks off, we’ll go check it out.”

“Smart,” Owlette said, sliding into the seat and typing in her login. The screen lit up with a grid of city surveillance feeds—public roads, parks, rooftops, alleyways. All of it looked… normal. Too normal.

“Zoom in on the alley behind Romeo’s usual spot,” Catboy said, leaning over her shoulder.

Owlette clicked and enhanced the image. Nothing. No tracks. No gadgets. No weird smoke trails. Just an empty space with a tipped-over trash can and a very judgmental stray cat.

“Okay… Night Ninja’s last hangout?” Gekko offered. “That abandoned dojo near the pizza place?”

Owlette pulled it up.

Also empty.

And dusty.

“Are we sure we’re not just overreacting?” Catboy asked, but even he didn’t sound convinced anymore.

“No,” Owlette said firmly. “This isn’t overreacting. Look—Romeo never goes more than three days without trying to zap something. And Night Ninja wouldn’t pass up a chance to outdo him. Luna Girl would’ve done something just to remind everyone she exists.”

“She does love a dramatic entrance,” Gekko muttered.

Owlette frowned, then switched to thermal scans—another HQ bonus. She cycled through buildings they knew the villains used, checking for movement, for heat, for anything.

Nothing.

Just cold, quiet space.

She sat back, her brow furrowed. “It’s like they’ve all just… disappeared.”

“Do you think someone got them first?” Gekko asked, eyes wide. “Like a new villain? Someone worse?”

Catboy crossed his arms. “No offense, but if there was a new big bad in town, we’d be the first ones they go after.”

“Unless,” Owlette said slowly, “they’re not targeting heroes. What if this new villain is only targeting villains?”

There was a pause.

Gekko blinked. “...Okay that’s creepy.”

Catboy rubbed the back of his neck. “Creepier if it’s true.”

They sat in silence for a beat. No one liked where this was going.

Then Owlette leaned forward again. “Wait. Hold on. Zoom in on that warehouse near the docks.”

She pulled up the feed.

It looked abandoned. But—on closer look—there were fresh tire tracks near the loading bay. The back door had clearly been used recently. And a faint heat signature flickered near the far wall. Someone had been there. Recently.

“I don’t like this,” Catboy muttered. “It’s giving evil lair vibes.”

“Big evil lair vibes,” Gekko agreed.

“We go tonight,” Owlette said. “Full patrol. Just in case.”

They nodded. No more jokes. No more popsicles.

The PJ Masks were finally starting to realize: something bad was happening.

The PJ Masks were all gathered around the screen now, practically breathing in sync as they stared at the warehouse feed. The camera flickered occasionally—cheap city tech—but it was enough to get a sense.

Owlette squinted. “That was movement.”

Catboy leaned in. “Where?”

“Left side. Near that stack of crates.”

Gekko narrowed his eyes. “Wait… is that—? No, go back! Zoom in again!”

Owlette rewound a few seconds and enhanced the image.

A shadow. Just a quick blur across the wall, like someone had leaned too far into the light and ducked back again. It was small, fast.

“I knew it,” Catboy said. “Someone’s in there.”

“But who?” Gekko asked. “Do we think it’s Romeo? Or Night Ninja? Or—what if it’s someone worse?”

Owlette’s eyes stayed glued to the screen. “Romeo hasn’t been in that hideout for a while. Not officially. But it’s still one of his. And if another villain’s using it…”

“Could be a trap,” Catboy said.

“Could be a clue,” Owlette replied.

They sat in silence for a few more seconds as the feed continued to loop. Nothing else moved.

Then Catboy stood up straight. “Let’s go.”

Owlette nodded. “I’ll fly overhead. You two approach from opposite sides. No rushing in—if someone’s there, we need to be smart.”

“Or sneaky,” Gekko added.

“You’re never sneaky,” Catboy said, grinning just a little.

“I’m stealthy in spirit.”

They suited up, headed for the launch bay, and in seconds, the HQ doors opened wide.

Meanwhile—across the city—inside that very same warehouse, Luna Girl had just kicked over a crate in frustration.

“There’s nothing here!” she snapped. “No secret notes. No teleportation device. Not even a cheesy recorded message from Romeo telling us we’re wasting our time.”

“How does he not leave a dramatic goodbye?” Octobella muttered, crouching by an old gadget half-sunk into the floor.

Night Ninja was perched on the edge of an upper platform, arms crossed, trying not to look like he cared. But he did. Way too much.

“This place is useless,” Pharaoh Boy said, brushing dust off his robe. “We should’ve gone to the lab under the train station.”

“No, this one was important,” Night Ninja said suddenly.

Everyone turned to him.

He looked down, fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. “This was his backup. Not the main lab, but close. He used to come here when he wanted to be alone. When he was annoyed. Or… thinking.”

Luna Girl raised an eyebrow. “And you know that because…?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he stood and began to walk toward the back of the warehouse.

But just as he stepped past a rusted stack of shelves, he paused.

“Did you hear that?”

Everyone froze.

Then—Octobella’s voice, sharp and suspicious—“Someone’s outside.”

They ran for cover, hiding behind crates and machines, barely breathing.

Outside, the PJ Masks landed silently.

Owlette hovered above, whispering into her comm. “Movement inside. Heat signatures confirmed. At least five.”

Catboy peeked through a crack in the boarded-up window. “That’s not just someone. That’s a whole group.”

“What if it’s the villains?” Gekko whispered. “Do we… do we talk to them?”

“Only one way to find out,” Catboy said.

They crept closer, quiet and alert.

Inside, Night Ninja could feel his heart pounding. He wasn’t sure why—if it was from paranoia or… something else. The idea that it might be the PJ Masks should’ve made him mad. But instead, it just made his stomach twist.

“Luna,” he whispered. “Turn off the lights.”

She did.

Darkness swallowed the room.

The PJ Masks reached the side door, Gekko and Catboy flanking it, Owlette watching from above.

“On three,” Catboy said softly. “One… two…”

The door creaked open.

And inside?

A sudden, eerie silence.

No light. No welcome. Just shadow.

One by one, figures began to emerge from the darkness. First, Luna Girl, her pale eyes glowing faintly, arms crossed like she wasn’t about to throw hands but very well could. Then Pharaoh Boy, holding a golden staff he absolutely did not know how to use but looked really smug about anyway. Octobella slithered out from behind a crate, her expression unreadable, though her brows were definitely in a "you really picked the wrong building, sweethearts" kind of way.

Then… nothing.

Catboy took a cautious step forward, lowering his voice. “Where’s the other one? You’ve got a whole dramatic lineup going on here, but you're one ninja short—”

Thump.

Night Ninja dropped from the ceiling like a silent, vaguely threatening cat. Landed directly in front of Catboy, crouched and perfectly still, eyes glowing like a ghost with anxiety issues.

Gekko yelped and fell backward. Owlette, still hovering above, sucked in a breath.

Catboy jumped back half a step. “Okay—hi. That’s normal. That’s very, very normal.”

“I don’t remember inviting you,” Night Ninja said, his voice low and sharp.

“We weren’t exactly asking for an invite,” Owlette replied, narrowing her eyes. “We were checking Romeo’s hideouts. Its been quiet”

At that, the room shifted. Not physically—but emotionally. The villains went quiet. Pharaoh Boy glanced away. Luna Girl’s arms dropped a little. Even Octobella’s teasing smirk faded.

Night Ninja straightened slowly, no longer trying to be intimidating.

“You’re late,” he said.

“What?” Gekko blinked.

“You’re late. We’ve been looking for Romeo for days. He is missing.”

There was a pause. One of those moments where everybody wants to say something at once but no one wants to go first. "He.... disappeared..?"

Then Catboy spoke. “Wait. You guys are—working together?”

“Oh, don’t get excited,” Luna Girl muttered. “It’s not like we all suddenly like each other or started holding hands and singing or whatever you think. We’re just—worried. Romeo’s… gone.”

Owlette landed gently beside her teammates. “We didn’t think you’d care.”

“Yeah, well,” Night Ninja muttered, looking off to the side. “We do.”

And again, something shifted.

Night Ninja’s eyes were dark, but not angry. Just… tired. Sad, even. And that was the part that really threw them. Night Ninja wasn’t supposed to be sad. He was supposed to be dramatic, cocky, annoying. Not this. Not human.

“Have you found anything?” Owlette asked carefully.

Luna Girl scoffed. “Nothing. No messages, no clues. Nothing that makes sense.”

“We thought this place might’ve had a secret passage or something,” Octobella said. “But it’s just dust and broken tech and bad memories.”

“Then let’s work together,” Catboy offered, stepping forward. “If he’s really missing—we need to find him. You want him back. So do we.”

Night Ninja didn’t move for a long moment.

Then he finally spoke.

“Fine.”

Just one word. But it was enough.

The PJ Masks and the villains? Standing in the same room, not fighting? Working together?

Weird times.

Very weird times.

But maybe that’s what it would take to find Romeo. Because none of them were saying it out loud—but everyone was thinking the same thing:

If Romeo wasn’t just hiding…
If something bad had happened to him…

They needed to find him. Fast.

Chapter Text

Guys, Im SO SORRY, but I'll have to take a break on writting this fic cuz my pet fish is sick (his mouth and belly look like spines) and Im treating him at home cuz my mom doesnt care about my fish enough to go to a vet.

I Will tell you guys some updates if he turns out okay or not

Chapter Text

Guys...i have bad news about my pet fish☹️

He is breathing, but he cant swim, he is at the botton of the aquarium, he has This things covering his mouth and belly, kinda looks like fur.. and its also very swollen.

Idk whats happening.. but i think its too late.

Edit: he died.

Chapter Text

Romeo was curled up against the corner now. He didn’t even remember moving there. Maybe an hour ago? Maybe five minutes. Maybe five years.

Time was a joke in this place.

The light overhead buzzed like a mosquito, but somehow louder. It flickered, not enough to be helpful, just enough to be annoying. The walls were still blindingly white, like the inside of a hospital crossed with a coffin. There was still no food. No water. Just emptiness.

And silence.

He’d stopped yelling hours ago. His voice had given out—maybe from screaming, maybe from talking to himself.

“You’re fine,” he mumbled, hugging his knees to his chest. “You’re a genius. You can figure this out. You always do.”

His voice cracked at the end, because even he didn’t believe it anymore.

He’d tried everything—ripping wires from the wall, unscrewing light fixtures, even biting into the corner of the fake security camera in a half-starved fit. Nothing worked. Nothing broke. Not in the way it was supposed to. Everything in this place was too perfect. Too smooth. Too… intentional.

He wasn’t here by accident.

And it wasn’t a rescue, either. At first, he thought maybe someone had captured him to stop his latest invention. But no one ever came in to question him. No guards. No angry do-gooders. No smug PJ Masks with their bright eyes and smug smiles.

Just… nothing.

It was starting to get into his head.

“Okay, okay,” he whispered, fingers twitching. “Maybe they want me to go crazy. Maybe that’s the point. Wear me down. Get me compliant. Make me easier to sell—” He froze. That thought hadn’t come from nowhere. He didn’t know it, but it felt too real to be fake.

Sell.

That word stuck in his throat like bile.

Were they trafficking him? Was this some kind of villain rehab front? He remembered stories. Whispers. Places that pretended to fix people and just… didn’t. This wasn’t justice. This was something worse. Something darker. Something that didn’t even bother pretending anymore.

His fingers dug into his scalp. “Shut up, shut up, shut up,” he muttered. “You’re not crazy. They’re the crazy ones. You’re Romeo. You’re smart. You’re Romeo.”

He rocked a little in place.

No tech. No tools. Just his brain. Which was starting to feel like a prison all on its own.

It was getting harder to think in straight lines. He started hearing sounds that weren’t there—voices, maybe. Something like Night Ninja’s laugh. Something like Luna Girl humming to herself. Once, he swore he even heard a Ninjalino giggling.

They weren’t real.

He knew they weren’t real.

But sometimes it was easier to pretend.

“Bet you’re loving this,” he said to no one, glaring at the blank wall like it had personally offended him. “Sitting up there watching me unravel. I bet you’ve got cameras. Bet you’re watching this right now, sipping your little cups of juice or whatever twisted weirdos drink while ruining lives.”

His voice cracked again. It sounded thin. Wrong. Not like him.

He dropped his head to his knees.

He was tired. So tired. But he couldn’t sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he thought he saw people. Outlines in the wall. Glimpses of hands just behind the glass. Shadowy figures whispering to each other in a language he couldn’t understand.

He wanted out.

He wanted noise.

He wanted someone to yell at. To argue with. To call an idiot.

God. He wanted to call Night Ninja a dramatic little gremlin and have him actually be there to throw a sticky splat at him for it.

“…I miss him,” Romeo mumbled without thinking.

His eyes widened. “I didn’t say that. I did not say that. Nope. Rewind. Delete. Forget. That was fake. Ctrl alt delete.

But he couldn’t take it back.

The words had already escaped.

And suddenly, his chest felt way too tight.

The lights hadn’t changed, but something was wrong.

Romeo blinked. His eyes stung. His lungs burned.

Smoke.

It wasn't thick. Just a creeping haze, curling in forms around the room like it was tauting him. He sat up too fast—his head spun. He stumbled to the wall and slapped it with his palm.

"What the hell is this?!"

No response. Of course. There never was.

The smoke wasn’t normal. It didn’t smell like fire. It didn’t smell like anything at all, actually. Sterile, clean, artificial. Too clean.

His throat scratched like sandpaper. He coughed once. Then again. It got deeper, wet. The air was thicker by the second.

He fell to his knees. He forgot that he was standing.

His head hit the floor at some point. His body gave up before his mind did. The last thing he saw before his eyes gave out was the ceiling warping, stretching, like it was breathing.

And then—black.

He woke up choking.

The room was darker. Not pitch black, but dull. The light overhead was sputtering, like a dying bulb. His hands were shaking. His skin was clammy.

His brain screamed at him to move, but something was pulling him down.

That was when he saw it.
At first he thought it was a person.

It wasn’t.

It had arms, it had legs. Basically the structure of a normal human being—or something—only everything was bent, the elbows were only bone, broken joints. Its skin was wine red and pitch black, wet, like mold in meat. Its head lolled to the side, no eyes, just a gaping slit where a mouth should have been. Blood and something darker dripped out of it. He hallucinates gore bloody disfigured figures, not human (or if they were- it would been the same as a mutilated dead body), not his enemies, not his friends, they were gut-wreching, dripping gut juice, disgusting. Dirty.

Dirty.

Romeo froze. His eyes widened and his jaw locked.

Another figure crawled from beneath the cot. Its nails scraped the floor with a sickening metal sound. No face. Just a wide, bloated body dragging itself toward him, leaving behind a smear of something black and chunky.

He backed away until he hit the wall. Hard. He curled into himself, shaking, biting his own hand to stop from crying out.

They didn’t speak. They didn’t move like people. They twitched. Convulsed. Some smiled, teeth growing from the outside of their faces.

He covered his mouth.
He didn't want to hear it. But there was no sound. They made no noise. And somehow that was worse.

The silence filled in the blanks.

He gasped.

The light flickered again—and they were closer. Too close. One reached out, black gut juice dripping from its fingertips.

Romeo gagged. He smelled it now. Copper, decay, something sour like rot. It was inside him. In his lungs.

They moved in ways nothing should. Their joints snapped like branches when they turned their heads. Their mouths opened too wide, down their throats, down to where their guts spilled.

This wasn’t real. This wasn’t real. This wasn’t—

He clawed at his own arms until he bled. Until the sting reminded him he was awake. Awake. Awake.

But they didn’t disappear.

He shut his eyes. He tried to breathe. Focus. Recite equations. Repeat the molecular composition of oxygen. List every element on the periodic table. Something. Anything.

He couldn’t remember the first letter of his own name.

The figures began to chant.

No mouths. Still chanting.

It wasn’t words. Just wet dripping sounds.

He sobbed.

And when he opened his eyes again—they were gone.

Only the blood remained.

His. Theirs. All of it. Pooled. Sticky. Warm.

The walls were stained red, black, brown.

"huh..?"

brown..? After 1–2 days blood begins to lose oxygen and change color.

It had been 2 days.

He crawled to the corner, curled in on himself like a dying animal.

He didn’t know how long he stayed like that.

Eventually, the lights returned to full strength. The walls were clean again. His arms, too.

No blood. No smoke.

No proof.

Just Romeo, shaking. Silent. Alone.

And he realized that he didn’t even know if he’d actually woken up.

There was something sticky on the floor..

Romeo’s cheek was pressed to it, warm and slightly tacky, like half-dried blood or spilled syrup. He hadn’t moved in hours. Or days. Maybe more. His muscles had locked up sometime between the twitching and the crying. He couldn’t feel his fingers anymore.

He licked his lips — dry. Cracked. Bleeding.

He was so hungry it hurt. Not just the stomach pain — no, that was the easy part. It was the taste in his mouth. The bitter metallic taste that wouldn’t leave, even though he hadn’t eaten in… God. He didn’t even remember what food looked like. Something soft. Something hot. Something alive.

No.

Not that.

He gagged.

Something was rotting in the corners of the room.

But there was nothing in the corners of the room. Just clean walls. Smooth walls. White walls.

Then why did it smell?

He sniffed the air and nearly retched. The stench hit him like a shovel to the face. Rancid meat. Open wounds. Tooth decay and wet dirt.

His stomach growled again. Louder this time.

He hated it.

He wanted it to stop. He didn’t want to want anything.

“Just kill me,” he mumbled, voice hoarse. “If you’re gonna do it, just do it. Stop dragging it out like a bad joke.”

No answer.

Of course not.

His eyes darted across the room. No blood. No creatures. Not this time. But the walls felt closer. The ceiling, lower. Pressing down like an enormous hand waiting to flatten him.

He tried to stand, but his legs folded under him like paper. He dragged himself instead. Elbow over elbow. Mouth hanging open. Drool clung to his chin.

And then—

He saw it.

No. He smelled it first.

A piece of meat.

Sitting in the center of the room. Unwrapped. Uncooked. Red.

It hadn't been there before.

His breathing hitched.

His body moved without him. Crawling, dragging, panting like an animal.

It could’ve been anything — a hallucination, a trap, a part of the rot. He didn’t care. His brain screamed at him to eat, louder than it screamed at him to think.

He grabbed it with trembling hands.

It squished. Wet. Cold. Something inside it twitched.

It was… twitching.

He blinked, and for a second, he could’ve sworn it had an eye. A single, glossy, staring eye embedded in the side of the meat. Looking up at him. Accusing.

He threw it across the room, saliva flying from his mouth. It slapped against the wall with a sickening smack and slid to the floor, leaving behind a dark, greasy trail.

His stomach howled again.

Romeo pressed his forehead to the floor and sobbed. He didn’t know why. It wasn’t sadness. It was something deeper. Older. Filthy. A primal grief he didn’t have words for.

He wasn’t scared of dying anymore.

He was scared of becoming whatever this place wanted him to become.

He was scared of liking it.

The silence came back, crawling in through his ears, curling into his brain. It whispered to him in pulses.

Eat.

Submit.

Forget.

He shook his head until it hurt. Slammed his fists against the floor. Hit his head. Bit his tongue. Anything to make the noise stop.

It didn’t.

He crawled back to the corner, dragging his nails on the ground like a wounded dog.

The meat sat there now. Back in the middle of the room. Not thrown. Not smashed. Like it had never moved at all.

He screamed until he couldn’t anymore.

And the walls stayed quiet.

And the hunger stayed alive.

Chapter Text

The second hideout was worse than the first.

Not because it was filthy.

Because it wasn’t.

Luna Girl stood in the middle of the room, arms wrapped around herself like she’d stepped into a morgue. The air was cold. Artificial. Processed by something that didn’t care about oxygen levels or how lungs worked. No dust. No scent. No soul.

“This isn’t right,” she whispered.

The lights were too bright.

Not fluorescent — surgical.

Even the shadows had been arranged.

Night Ninja crouched beside a console, frowning. “None of this was here before,” he muttered. “I knew every inch of this place. He didn’t build this. Not like this.”

Why did he fell the need to say it? He sighned remembering all the times Romeo invited him to create a plan to defeat the pj masks.

He shook his head slighly. This wasnt the time to care about memories.

It all looked like Romeo’s tech, sure. But too perfect. Wires didn’t bend that neatly. Panels didn’t close without a millimeter of error. There were no fingerprints. No oil smudges. No signs of human use. Not even his usual messy writing on the walls.

Like he’d been… erased.

“They want us to think he was never here,” Gekko said, voice low and cautious. He looked like he might be sick. “This is like one of those clean rooms. Hospitals don’t even look like this. It’s sterile.”

“No.” Luna Girl stepped forward. “This isn’t sterile. This is staged.”

Owlette swept a hand over one of the counters. Nothing. Not a single speck of dust. Not a molecule of leftover DNA.

“How is that even possible?” she asked. “You can’t scrub a location this clean unless—”

“Unless you don’t have skin,” Night Ninja said flatly.

Silence.

It hit them all at once.

Whoever cleaned this place — it wasn’t human.

Or...
Perhaps someone very deranged burned off their fingerprints. There was no clue to it.

Even Romeo, obsessive and brilliant and paranoid, always left behind chaos. Doodles. Ramblings. Used tools. Coffee stains. Power cords where they shouldn’t be. Signs of himself.

But this place?

This place looked like a mockery of Romeo’s lab. Like a dollhouse replica. Like something trying to fake what a person’s workspace looked like, without actually understanding what made it alive.

Catboy paced in slow, wary circles. “You think this is a decoy?”

“No,” Night Ninja said, standing up. “I think it’s a message.”

Octobella stared at the corner of the room where a faint groove in the floor met a grated drain.

“There’s no water system in this hideout,” she said. “And yet that’s a drain. Someone expected something to be washed away.”

She pressed her palm to the floor.

Still faintly damp.

They all noticed it now.

That quiet, underlying smell.

Not bad. Not rot.

But wrong.

Like chemicals. Bleach over bleach. Like someone had tried to clean up a body and didn't know when to stop.

Pharaoh Boy finally spoke, voice grim. “They took their time here. They wanted us to find this place. They wanted us to see how useless our search would be.”

“No.” Night Ninja turned toward a wall.

Then punched it.

Hard.

The plaster cracked.

Underneath, a sliver of blue wiring — Romeo's color code.

“He was here,” Night Ninja said through gritted teeth. “But someone doesn’t want us to know what happened next.”

Luna Girl crouched beside the broken wall, eyes wide.

“Then we tear every inch of this place apart.”

And they did.

They dug through false walls and spotless drawers. Behind cabinets, beneath floor panels. They kept going long after their breath grew sharp and their fingers bled. Because the silence of this place was too loud — a silence Romeo would never choose.

There was no map. No journal. No data trail.

Just one thing. One awful thing.

A small bloodstain, dried and hidden under the floor panel of Romeo’s former charging station.

Too old to identify. Too perfectly preserved to have bled naturally.

It looked… placed.

Like someone had taken a single drop of him and arranged it there, to be found.

A token.

A souvenir.

Night Ninja stared at it, his face unreadable. Then, quietly:

“…He’s not dead. If he was, they wouldn’t need to play these games.”

“They’re breaking him,” Luna Girl said softly. “And when they’re done…”

“They’ll send him back.”

No one said it out loud.

But the thought was there.

He might not come back as Romeo.

Just something that looked like him.

They were going to break him.

Use him for wharever their reason for kidnapping a teenager was.

And send him back like nothing happened.

They found tapes behind a sealed panel in the wall — buried under metal layers Romeo would’ve made child’s play to open, but which took them **hours** to force.

Luna Girl pulled the box out first. Then a second. A third. Each one filled with labeled data cartridges, scrawled in his handwriting:
**PROJECT ABSOLUTE GENIUS.**
**THE TRIPLE-MEGA-MIND-RAY.**
**PLAN "IF THIS FAILS, I’LL JUST BECOME KING."**

“God, he was unbearable,” Octobella muttered. “I missed this.”

They set up the old projector, rerouted the power. The tapes buzzed to life — no menu, no editing. Just Romeo, speaking into his camcorder like it was a confessional booth and he was both priest and god.

“Day 198 of being the smartest person alive,” the boy on the screen said, full of himself. “Everyone else still stupid. Surprise surprise.”

He was sixteen. Half-cackling, hair a mess, face smudged with oil, glasses slipping. The backdrop was a disaster — wires tangled like spaghetti, sparks flying, beakers bubbling with unnatural color.

The villains and heroes sat together on the floor in a circle around the screen, stone still. Some stared with nostalgia. Some with guilt.

Romeo leaned in close on the tape, adjusting the angle.

“You’re gonna love this one,” he grinned. “It *shouldn’t* exist by the laws of physics, but guess who bent those?”

But no one was listening to his voice anymore.

They were watching the far-right corner of the screen.

It was subtle. Easy to miss.

**A shadow.**

Not cast by Romeo. Not moving with the light.

It was *there* before he got into frame.

Still.

Too tall.

Longer than a person should be.

Next tape.

He was demonstrating a “mind-splitter ray” and monologuing about how he might clone his own brain into separate bodies.

Everyone’s eyes went to the background again.

There it was.

Behind a shelf this time.

No motion.

Just a *presence*.

Like something watching.

**Patiently.**

Another tape.

He was laughing. Rambling about blowing up the moon.

The camera flickered for two seconds.

Just long enough to see **a silhouette**, crouched behind the wall of tech. No face. Just shape. Familiar only in its wrongness.

Night Ninja leaned forward, face blank.

“…he didn’t notice it.”

Owlette swallowed hard. “How could he not? It’s right there.”

Luna Girl whispered: “Because it *wanted* him not to.”

The next tape was corrupted. Buzzing static and fragments of Romeo’s voice spliced out of order:

“—greatest mind—”
“—nobody can stop—”
“—what was that—”
“—wait—”

Silence.

Then a frame — not even a second — of Romeo turning his head. Eyes wide. *Not in fear. In confusion.* Maybe because robot should´ve been there. To stop wharever this was.

...
where was robot..?

...
..
.
.

Then the screen went black.

Gekko stood. “Stop. Stop the next one. Don’t play it.”

But Catboy already had.

The screen flared to life. No sound.

Just Romeo again, at his desk.

Not speaking.

Just *staring* at the camera.

Not blinking.

His mouth opened — but no words came.

The footage lasted fifteen minutes. No talking. No laughter.

Just that **dead stare**.

And something behind him that **moved** this time.

Slowly.

Almost swaying.

Like it was deciding something.

The screen cut to white.

Nothing more.

No outro. No goodbye. No final message.

The group sat in silence.

Octobella got to her feet slowly. Her hands were trembling.

“That thing,” she said. “It’s *been* here.”

“Maybe it’s what took him,” Luna Girl muttered.

They didn’t sleep that night.

No one did.

Because now they weren’t just looking for Romeo.

They were trying to find what had already found **him**.

And they were starting to suspect it had followed *them* back.

At first it was little things. The kind of details you could excuse.

Octobella swore she heard water dripping in the corner of the hideout — steady, rhythmic, like droplets falling into a basin. But when she checked, there was no leak, no puddle. Just dust. She shook it off, telling herself she was tired.

Pharaoh Boy kept sniffing the air, nose wrinkling. “Smells rotten,” he said. But nobody else smelled it. They laughed at him — until, one by one, they started catching it too. A sour, heavy stench of decay, lingering in perfectly scrubbed-clean rooms.

Luna Girl was the first to snap. She threw a chair at the wall when she caught the sound of breathing — right behind her, soft and patient, the kind of sound a person makes when they’re waiting. But when the chair splintered the plaster, there was nothing there.

It only got worse.

Night Ninja started hearing footsteps. Sharp, deliberate. The kind of echo that comes from expensive shoes, not the sneakers or boots any of them wore. At first he thought it was Romeo — because Romeo did have that obnoxious taste for fancy boots sometimes. But the sound always came from behind him, and always stopped when he turned.

He stopped telling the others.

Because by then, they had their own problems.

Gekko heard a laugh — high-pitched, childlike. It echoed through the vents. He crawled through them for hours, trying to find the source, but there was nothing. Nothing but the smell of rust and something sweet, sickly, like syrup mixed with blood.

Owlette caught herself staring into mirrors too long. She swore she saw someone behind her shoulder. Not Romeo. Not anyone she knew. Just… a shape. A tall figure, too blurry to describe, too wrong to put into words. The reflection never moved, but her chest tightened every time, like if she blinked, it would.

Catboy refused to admit it, but he’d woken the others more than once in the middle of the night, bolting upright, gasping for air like he’d been drowning. He didn’t remember the dreams — only the sense of hands around his throat.

They told themselves it was stress. It had to be. They were searching nonstop, bouncing from hideout to hideout, following trails that always went nowhere. They weren’t sleeping right. They weren’t eating right. It was natural.

But the longer it went on, the less they could deny it.

Because now it wasn’t just smells and sounds.

It was sight.

Luna Girl saw the shadow first — not in the tapes this time, but in the corner of the hideout, standing too still. She screamed, and the others rushed in, but by then, it was gone.

Pharaoh Boy claimed he saw a hand curl around the doorframe, pale and too long-fingered, before vanishing when he blinked.

Octobella swore she woke up in the middle of the night to see something crouched on her chest, watching her. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. When she finally gasped and blinked, it was gone.

Nobody believed anyone else — until it happened to them.

And worst of all, the recordings hadn’t stopped. Someone — or something — was still leaving them. They’d check Romeo’s old projectors, and there would be new tapes inside. No one saw who put them there.

And the tapes?

They weren’t of Romeo anymore.

They were of them.

Shaky footage. Luna Girl sleeping, tossing and turning. Night Ninja pacing, muttering under his breath. Owlette sitting in front of the mirror, staring at something the camera never showed. They had all stayed there for the night. No one wanted to explain why.

The angles didn’t make sense. The shots came from places no one could stand, like high in the corner of the ceiling, or right behind their own shoulders.

No one admitted to watching them all the way through.

No one wanted to say out loud what they all felt:

That maybe this wasn’t about Romeo anymore.

That maybe they weren’t searching for him.

Maybe they were just following his trail straight into the same trap.

The same madness.

The same thing.

they had re-watched all romeo´s tapes again.

The tape whirred, dragging across the machine’s innards like a throat being scraped raw.
Romeo’s face flickered across the grainy screen, larger than life, smug as always, babbling about his “greatest invention yet.” His voice looped, tinny, bouncing off the cold walls of the hideout.

But no one was listening to his words anymore.

All eyes were glued to the corner of the frame—
that shadow.
That impossible, shifting smear of black that leaned just slightly behind Romeo’s shoulder.
Not moving like a person. Not still like an object. Just there.

“How long has it been watching him?” Night Ninja muttered, his voice low, teeth clenched.

“It’s not real,” Pharaoh Boy snapped too quickly, like he was trying to convince himself. “It’s a camera trick. A reflection.”
But he didn’t look away. None of them did.

Rip tilted her head. “It… it looked closer this time, didn’t it?”

They argued. Whispered. Jotted down scribbles.
Every frame, every flicker. Luna Girl rewound, froze, replayed.
But the more they watched, the more the room seemed to.. change.

The air felt heavy.
The shadows formed diferent formats that didnt make sense.
And every time the tape clicked forward, someone swore they heard breathing—slow, steady, inches behind them.

They didn’t dare turn.

It must’ve been hours. Days?
The screen had become their sun, their anchor, their tormentor.
And then—
without warning—

it stopped.

Romeo’s gloating cut off mid-sentence. The image warped, hissed with static, then went black.

“Rewind it,” Luna Girl demanded.
Night Ninja shoved the button down. The machine groaned, the wheels spun.

But nothing came.
No Romeo. No shadow. Just dead air, like the tape was nothing but blank space. Like it wasnt there.

“…What the hell?” Howler whispered.

They tried again. And again.
The tape was empty.

All their notes, all their hours, all their obsession—gone.

The sun was bleeding through the boarded-up windows now, pale and mocking. They hadn’t realized it was morning.

Luna Girl sat back slowly, her lips cracked, eyes hollow. “…It doesn’t want us to see anymore.”

No one argued.
Because somewhere, deep in the marrow of their bones, they all believed it.

Whatever had been in those tapes—
whatever had been lurking in Romeo’s shadow—
had turned its eyes on them.

The warehouse didn’t feel like Romeo’s anymore.

It had his blueprints. His half-finished gadgets. His ridiculous “Romeo rules!” stickers peeling from the walls. But none of it carried his arrogance, his smell, his fingerprints.

Everything was too clean.
Scrubbed down, disinfected, like someone had erased him.

And that was the worst part.

Because in the absence of Romeo, they began to find other things.

A nail, bent and rusty, wedged into the seam of the floorboards.
A scrap of cloth caught in a pipe overhead, too dark to be dust, too wet to be forgotten.
The smell of rot lingering in the corner, even when the place had been bleached spotless.

They found scratches along the metal walls.
Not random—shapes. Lines. Like letters, but unfinished, frantic. Claw marks trying to mean something.

“Romeo left these,” Luna Girl whispered, her hand hovering just above the grooves. “He wanted us to know. He was trying to write a message.”

But no one could agree on what the scratches spelled.
Each one of them saw something different.

HELP.
DON’T.
RUN.
ALIVE.

Night Ninja insisted it was a warning.
Pharaoh Boy said it was a taunt.
Octobella swore she saw her own name carved in one of the walls, though when the others checked, it looked like nonsense.

They wrote down everything. Compared theories. Fought over interpretations until their voices cracked.

But the more they chased meaning, the more the warehouse seemed to twist around them.

One night, they swore they smelled smoke— acrid, thick, clinging to their clothes. They scrambled to put it out, only to realize there was no fire. The smell vanished the second they looked for it.

Another time, the Wolfy Kids claimed to hear heavy footsteps circling the building. Boots clicking on cement, steady, deliberate, always just out of sight.
They ran outside, ready to fight—
and found nothing.
Just empty night.

They stopped sleeping.
Every noise became proof. Every shadow became a clue.
They couldn’t leave, not yet, not when Romeo’s trail was still here, hidden between walls and whispers.

And none of them noticed how pale their faces had grown, how shaky their hands were, how hollow their eyes looked in the glass reflection of the old monitors.

It was eating them alive.

Then it hit them.

All at once.

The walls.
The scratches.
The stains.
The smell.

None of it was there when they first walked in.

The warehouse had been scrubbed, sterile, lifeless. They remembered it until seconds ago. The sharp sting of bleach, the polished steel, the hollow emptiness.

But now the walls were scarred.
The air reeked.
The shadows breathed.

“When did it…” Luna Girl’s voice cracked, her eyes darting around the room, “…when did it become like this?”

No one answered.

Because they didn’t know.

They all remembered clean.
But they also remembered this.
Like two sets of memories that didn’t line up, both insisting they were real.

Night Ninja rubbed his temples hard enough to bruise, muttering to himself. “No… no, it’s just— we missed it. We weren’t looking. That’s all.”

But even as he said it, his voice shook.

Pharaoh Boy swore under his breath in a language older than the city. His skin had gone pale, like he’d seen a ghost.

The Wolfy Kids pressed together, whining low in their throats, ears flat, tails puffed. “It’s wrong,” Howler whispered. “The place is wrong.”

Octobella stood the longest without speaking, just staring at the dark smear in the corner where the smell of rot curled thick in her nose. Finally, she whispered:
“I don’t think it was ever clean.”

Silence swallowed the room.

No one argued.
No one dared to.
Because the warehouse wasn’t just holding secrets anymore.

It twisted their memories.
It erased them.

It made them feel like their brains had been dunked in a pool of bleach—

…wait.

Bleach?

When did it smell like bleach here?

Right. When they first arrived.

But the memory felt… different. Wrong. The bleach smell hadn’t been the sharp, eye-stinging kind they all knew. It was heavier. Chemical. Almost sweet. Like something that clung to the back of the throat, like poison dressed up as something clean.

Night Ninja’s nails dug into his gloves as he whispered, “It wasn’t bleach.”

Luna Girl’s head snapped toward him. “What do you mean it wasn’t bleach? We all smelled it.”

“Yeah,” he said, shaking, “but what if that’s not what it was?”

The Wolfy Kids whined, claws scratching the floor, restless. They could smell better than anyone—but now, even their memories of the scent were starting to blur. One second it was bleach, the next it was ammonia, then copper, then rot.

Octobella shivered. “I don’t think it was for cleaning. I think… it was to hide something.”

No one spoke after that. Because they all felt it.

The way their minds kept skipping, like a broken tape recorder.
The way every detail they thought they knew—what they’d seen, what they’d smelled, what they’d touched—shifted when they looked at it again.

One moment, the stains on the floor looked like water damage. The next, they pulsed like blood.

One moment, the shadows stretched normally. The next, they were too long, too sharp, too human.

And every time they blinked, the memories rearranged themselves.

It was like the warehouse wasn’t a place at all.
It was a predator.

And they were trapped in its jaws.

Some of them were starting to feel it physically.

The nausea first. Like something had crawled up their stomachs and lodged itself there, squirming. The sharp, acidic taste of vomit at the back of their throats, but it wouldn’t come out. No matter how they gagged, nothing left their mouths.

Then came the dizziness.

The warehouse itself seemed to shift beneath their feet. Floorboards stretched, walls tilted, corners doubled back in ways that didn’t make sense. Their reflections in the occasional shiny panel looked wrong—elongated, hollow-eyed, as if the warehouse had stolen something of their faces while they weren’t looking.

They told themselves they were fine.

They told themselves they were doing a good job.

Every scratch on the walls, every smell of rot, every scrap of metal or torn cloth was evidence that they were getting closer.

They scribbled notes. They debated. They argued. They traced lines across walls and floors with fingers and rulers, trying to map patterns that couldn’t exist.

And yet…

They hadn’t actually moved from that first corner. They hadn’t really searched any other warehouse, any other hideout.

Some part of them knew it.

But another part, darker and heavier, told them they were working. That their hours, their obsession, their eyes straining over every detail, every shadow, every smell—they were making progress.

Even as nausea twisted their stomachs into knots. Even as their minds screamed that they were going in circles.

The realization came slowly.

It started as a whisper in Night Ninja’s skull: We haven’t found anything.

Then Luna Girl murmured it, almost ashamed: We haven’t found anything.

Octobella’s voice trembled next, barely audible: Nothing. Not one clue about Romeo’s disappearance.

Pharaoh Boy’s eyes darted to the walls, the shadows, the scratches. He swallowed hard. “Then… what have we been doing all this time?”

Silence answered.

They looked at each other.

Their notes. Their maps. Their lists of “clues.”

All meaningless.

All fabricated.

The warehouse hadn’t been hiding Romeo. It hadn’t been hiding answers.

It had been hiding them.

And now the truth hit like a punch to the gut:

They weren’t getting closer.

They were trapped.

In a building.

In their own minds.

And the more they realized it, the more nausea and dizziness clawed at them. The more their hearts raced, the more the shadows stretched, twisted, and moved where no one should have been.

The warehouse hadn’t just twisted memories before.

It had twisted time.

And now it was twisting reality itself.

Because for all their obsession, for all the careful, brilliant minds in the room, they had uncovered… nothing.

Nothing.

Not a trace of Romeo. Not a hint of the entity that had taken him. Not even a real clue to why.

Just themselves.

They have to leave. *Now*

They had to leave that place. Now. Now Now NowNowNowNowNowNowNowNowNowNowNowNow.

The realization hit them like a drumbeat in their skulls. Panic surged, sharp and metallic, burning down the throat.

Night Ninja moved first, spinning toward the exit, but the walls… they weren’t where they were supposed to be. Corners stretched like taffy, shadows pooled in angles that didn’t exist. His boots hit nothing but air at one point, and he stumbled, catching himself on a wall that wasn’t there a second ago.

Luna Girl called out, voice cracking. “The door! The door is—”

But when she reached it, it had shifted. The handle was too high. Too low. Too far. Too close. She yanked. Nothing.

The Wolfy Kids barked and howled, scratching at the air, teeth bared at shapes only they could see. Rip swore she saw someone crouched in the shadows, fingers dragging along the floor—but when she spun, nothing was there.

Octobella clutched her head, trying to make sense of the smell—rot and chemical bleach, copper and decay, all mingled into something that made her stomach heave violently. Her knees buckled. “We… we have to get out,” she whispered, voice trembling.

Pharaoh Boy tried to use his Staff of Ra. He slammed it down, ready to strike at the “presence” he felt, but it hit only empty air. Sparks fizzled uselessly. His hand shook. “This isn’t—this isn’t real,” he muttered.

But none of it felt unreal. Not yet.

Every turn they took led to another corridor that should have been a wall. Every shadow moved differently than it had a second ago. Every sound—slow breathing, the creak of shoes that didn’t belong, whispers—made their hearts pound.

Gekko staggered, gripping his stomach. “I… I can’t… it’s like the place is—watching. Moving.”

“It is watching!” Night Ninja barked. “We’ve been fools. Fools!”

They ran blindly, tripping over wires, knocking over empty crates, the smells thickening, choking them. A spray of metallic tang hit their noses and mouths like blood, even though they could see nothing.

Luna Girl screamed when she swore the shadows on the walls began to twist, reaching out toward them.

But the door—somehow, they found it again.

They slammed through.

Sunlight hit them like a punch to the chest, burning their eyes. They collapsed to the concrete, or was it grass? Outside, coughing, heaving, retching, hearts hammering. The nausea clawed at them, unrelenting. Wait. was it sunlight-.

For a long moment, no one spoke. They just lay there, gasping and trembling.

Somewhere inside, under the fear, the panic, the hallucinations—whispered: we survived. Somehow, we survived.

But no one dared to claim victory. This wasnt something to win- but to defeat.

The sounf of heyvy gasps snapped them out of their own thoughts.

Night Ninja couldn’t breathe properly. Each inhalation felt thick, like his lungs were stuffed with wet cloth. The others didn’t seem to notice the same difficulty. Maybe it was because he was the only one who had never taken off his mask in front of anyone before—the mask that covered his identity, his skin, his hair, everything. His shield.

“You should… maybe take it off,” Luna Girl suggested cautiously, voice softer than usual.

The others murmured in agreement, though no one had really thought of Night Ninja without the mask before. They didn’t know what he looked like. They didn’t know who he really was.

He only glared at them.

The glare said everything: I am fine. I am fine. I am fine.

But the tremor in his shoulders betrayed him.

“Come on,” Pharaoh Boy pressed, a little too sharp, a little too desperate. “It’s just us here. Nobody else. Take it off.”

"We know better to ask but you are not breathing correctly! We wont tell anyone or joke about it- we *promise*"

Night Ninja’s jaw clenched. He stared at the cracked concrete, the way the sunlight—or whatever this was—bounced off it like fractured glass. The nausea twisted in his stomach again. He didn’t want to show weakness. He couldn’t. Not yet.

“…Fine,” he muttered finally, almost to himself.

He pulled the mask slowly, carefully, like it was glued to his skin.

The air hit him first. Too sharp. Too dry. Not like the suffocating warehouse. Then… relief? Painful, shallow, but relief nonetheless.

When he finally looked up, the others froze.

His dark brown curls, almost black, were matted with sweat, sticking to his forehead. His blue eyes were heavy, droopy, the kind that looked almost tired of everything, like they’d seen more than they should have at sixteen. Faint scars marked his cheekbones, hints of past fights. Shark-like teeth caught the sunlight when he muttered,

Silence.

No one moved. No one spoke.

Then Rip whispered, “…you’re… more human than i thought..”

He wanted to snap. To scream. To tell them he wasn’t human at all, that he was just Night Ninja. But part of him—small, terrifying—wondered if that was what he had always feared: that maybe without the mask, he was just a kid like them.

The nausea didn’t leave. The dizziness didn’t stop. But the mask was gone.

And for the first time since the warehouse, maybe—just maybe—they could start thinking.

Chapter Text

Catboy’s mind drifted, disconnected from the present, slipping back to something small. Something stupid. Gecko. Laughing, sticky fingers, neon-colored tongues. Seven popsicles in a row. He had thought it was funny at the time, even scolded him for overdoing it. But now…

He frowned. He’d never seen popsicles like those in the town stores before. The colors had been too harsh, almost glowing, like chemicals masquerading as candy.

The thought itched at the back of his skull. He didn’t think it had anything to do with Romeo—why would it? Romeo made machines, not… frozen...whatever that was. But still. Later, he promised himself, he’d ask Gecko where he got them.

And yet even now, even in the sunlight that didn’t quite feel like sunlight, Catboy couldn’t shake the unease.

They all sat in silence, trying to recover, but the silence wasn’t quiet.

There were sounds where there shouldn’t be any. The faint tap of footsteps in an empty alley. The breath of something behind them, too slow, too deliberate. The smell of bleach again—no, not bleach, stronger, sharper, industrial.

Night Ninja pressed his palm against his chest, forcing the air in and out of his lungs, mask clutched in one fist like it might burn him. His scars glistened faintly in the light, and for the first time, the others didn’t see him as untouchable. He looked… breakable.

Luna Girl shifted, her voice a whisper: “We can’t stay here. We’ll lose it. Like in there.”

But even as she said it, her eyes flicked to the warehouse’s door, like part of her wanted to go back inside.

Like part of her thought they’d left something behind.

While the others slumped against the cracked concrete, still trying to remember how to breathe, Catboy’s eyes kept darting—first to Gecko, then away again. The thought of those popsicles wouldn’t leave him alone.

He moved closer, lowering his voice.
“Hey… Gecko. Where’d you get those popsicles? The ones you ate… that one night?”

Gecko blinked, a little dazed, as if he hadn’t been listening. His lips were still dry, cracked white. “Huh? Popsicles?”

“Yeah. Seven of them. I’ve never seen those in town before. Not in any shop.”

Gecko hesitated. His eyes flicked to the others. Then back to Catboy. “…I don’t know. I mean… it was a shop. Looked normal. On the corner past Seventh. Big windows. Fluorescent sign. Just… popsicles, soda, some dusty cans.”

Catboy frowned. “That corner’s empty. It’s been empty for months.”

Gecko’s mouth opened. Then closed. He rubbed the back of his neck nervously, eyes darting. “I’m telling you, it was there. I went inside. Paid cash. The popsicles were in a freezer at the back.”

Catboy felt a coldness crawl over his skin. Something in Gecko’s voice—flat, rehearsed almost—didn’t sit right.

“What did the cashier look like?” he pressed.

Gecko’s face went pale. His eyes unfocused, searching some place far away. “…I don’t… remember.”

His voice cracked at the edges. “I mean—I must’ve seen them, right? Someone gave me the change. But… I can’t see their face.”

Silence stretched, heavy, suffocating.

Behind them, the others coughed, shifted, muttered in the not-silence. But to Catboy it felt like the whole world had narrowed down to this moment: Gecko, swearing up and down about a store that shouldn’t exist.

A place that wasn’t there.

Catboy’s stomach twisted, the same nausea from the warehouse crawling back up his throat. “Gecko… don’t tell the others. Not yet.”

Gecko nodded slowly, but his hands wouldn’t stop fidgeting. “I… don’t think I could, even if I wanted to.”

Because the more he thought about it, the less real it all seemed. The store. The freezer. The popsicles.

Like maybe he’d walked into someplace that shouldn’t exist.

..

Remembering back then, Gecko had gotten a stomach ache.

That was normal, of course—seven popsicles in a row would do that to anyone. He’d even laughed it off, holding his belly and groaning dramatically while the others teased him. But the more Catboy thought about it, the more it didn’t line up.

A stomach ache shouldn’t make you weird.

It shouldn’t make your pupils dilate like pinpricks. It shouldn’t leave your skin clammy for hours. And it definitely shouldn’t make you wander half-awake, muttering in your sleep about doors and hallways and buzzing lights.

Catboy swallowed hard.

He remembered Gecko sitting on the couch that night, blinking slowly, like the air around him had thickened. The popsicle sticks clattered on the floor, all seven of them lined up neatly side by side. Too neatly. Gecko had stared at them for a long time—longer than anyone would stare at trash.

At the time, they’d brushed it off. A sugar crash, maybe.

But now…

Now, with the warehouse still clinging to their lungs, with the sunlight still too sharp, Catboy couldn’t ignore it.

“Gecko,” he whispered, his voice low, his throat dry. “After you ate those… did you feel… different? Like—like something was wrong?”

Gecko shifted uncomfortably, eyes flicking away. His voice came out shaky. “…I thought it was just the popsicles. But—yeah. It was like—I don’t know. My stomach hurt, but not like normal. It was deeper. Wrong. Like something was crawling inside me. And then—”

He cut himself off.

Catboy leaned closer. “Then what?”

Gecko’s jaw tightened. “Then I saw… things. Just flashes. Shapes in corners. People standing in hallways. I thought I was dreaming. But now that im thinking about it.. I wasn’t asleep.”

Catboy’s breath hitched. His skin prickled with cold.

Because now the nausea, the bleach smell, the shadows—they weren’t starting in the warehouse.

They had started long before.

..
Now they had to tell the others.

The symptoms were the same. The dizziness, the nausea that never went away, the flickers at the edges of vision, the whispers of footsteps where no one walked. They couldn’t ignore this anymore.

But the question carved into Catboy’s brain was a cruel one:

How could they all feel the same thing if they hadn’t eaten any food from that weird store?

Gecko had. He was the only one who bought those popsicles, the only one who had licked the strange, syrupy ice that seemed to melt too fast, stain his tongue too dark. He should’ve been the only one sick.

And yet…

Owlette had woken two nights ago choking on phantom smoke.
Luna Girl had clawed at her skin until it was red, swearing something was crawling underneath.
Rip’s eyes twitched at every corner of light, as if the shadows held teeth.
Night Ninja—well, Night Ninja couldn’t breathe, with or without the mask.

Not everyone got sick the same way.

It was spreading—but not like food poisoning, not like a cold. This wasn’t in their stomachs. It was in their heads. And whatever Gecko had swallowed that day wasn’t staying locked inside him.

Pharaoh Boy muttered it first, voice trembling in the silence:
“…It’s contagious. Even if you don’t touch it.”

They were all thinking the same thing:

Something had already gotten in.

And they didn’t know how to get it out.

Moments later.

They decided to go to that store.

The words were easy enough to say, but none of them wanted to move. The thought of walking back into whatever Gecko had stumbled into felt like volunteering to stick their heads inside a noose. Still, what choice did they have? Every road they’d taken so far only bent back into their own sickness.

The “store” sat on the edge of town, though calling it a store was generous. From the outside, it looked like an abandoned convenience shop—dusty windows, peeling paint, a buzzing sign with half its letters missing. It had been there for as long as anyone could remember, but nobody had ever gone in. It was just there, like a prop left behind in a stage play.

But Gecko swore it had been open that night. He swore he’d walked through the sliding doors, heard the chime, and seen bright rows of freezers humming with neon light. He swore someone had handed him the popsicles.

Now?

The glass was grimy, smeared, and yet somehow Catboy swore he saw light flickering deep inside—like a TV on in a room that shouldn’t exist.

They pushed the door. It gave too easily, as if it had been waiting for them.

Inside, it was wrong. The layout didn’t match the building’s size. The aisles stretched long, too long, stretching into shadows that bent in ways that shouldn’t bend. The air reeked faintly sweet, like syrup mixed with bleach.

Everything was too clean. Plastic gleamed. Shelves were stocked, but the labels were nonsense—words that looked like words, but when you tried to read them, they melted in your head.

And at the very back, humming like a heartbeat, was the freezer aisle.

Gecko’s breathing hitched. He pointed, hand shaking.
“That… that’s it. That’s where I got them.”

But when the others looked—
The freezers were empty.

Only frost clung to the glass, dripping like veins.

And yet the worst thing was that smell.

That same rotten meat stench that had haunted the warehouse. Only this time, it wasn’t imagined. It was real. Thick. Heavy. It clung to their tongues, coated their throats, made their stomachs roll.

And then—like a film reel snapping into focus—they saw it.

The shelves weren’t clean. Not really. Every box, every package, every bottle was rotting. Labels peeling, plastic warped, contents bloated and oozing with slime. Popsicles dripping red slush that wasn’t melting ice but something thicker (They weren´t even in the freezer), something darker. Bread crawling with mold, milk cartons splitting open with sour froth that bubbled like it was alive.

But the surfaces—the metal shelves, the linoleum floor—were spotless. Gleaming, as though someone had scrubbed it all down again and again, making sure the rot stayed only inside the products.

Like the filth was allowed to live, but only where it was placed.

“Don’t…” Luna Girl whispered, clutching her nose, eyes wide and watering. “Don’t touch anything.”

They didn’t. They couldn’t.

Yet the longer they stood there, the more it felt like the rot was breathing. The smell swelled and dipped like lungs filling. Like something in the store was inhaling, exhaling, using the spoiled food as its body.

..
They decided to go explore the place as hard as it was. The aisles were a trap—circling them in loops, products decaying faster when looked at—so they pushed toward the back. Toward the door marked STAFF ONLY.

Their hearts thudded when it swung open.

No shelves. No mop buckets. No boxes of stock.

Instead—a corridor.

Long. Too long. White padded walls, stitched seams bulging like skin stretched over bone. The floor was the same, soft under their shoes like flesh hidden beneath fabric. Metallic doors lined both sides at perfect intervals, heavy and locked, each with no windows. No names. No numbers. Just blank metal slabs.

The air was dead quiet. Too quiet. No hum of electricity. No drip of leaking pipes. Only the sound of their own breaths—and even that felt muffled, like the walls were swallowing sound whole.

They stepped inside.

And the corridor stretched.

The further they walked, the more it bent the eye. Door after door after door. No end. No change. Just repetition, until it felt like time itself was thinning, dripping through their fingers.

“This isn’t—” Gecko’s voice cracked, breaking in the hush. “—this isn’t possible.”

Luna Girl reached out, pressing her hand to one of the padded walls. It gave under her palm like damp cotton. She recoiled instantly, wiping her hand against her pants as though it had left something behind.

But when she looked—her skin was clean.

“Don’t touch anything,” Night Ninja growled again, but his voice wasn’t steady. His eyes kept darting to the metal doors, jaw tightening. He expected them to open. To burst.

The silence thickened.

It wasn’t infinite. Not really. But it was endless enough to feel like it.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
ROMEO´S POV:

Romeo woke choking.

Not on smoke this time. Not even on blood. On nothing. On air that pressed into his throat like liquid, too thick to swallow, too sharp to breathe. His lungs rattled. His body jerked against restraints he didn’t remember being put in.

The walls hummed. Not loud—subtle. Like a machine purring right next to his ear, except it wasn’t mechanical. It was alive.

He blinked against the padded brightness. The walls were white. Seamless. Puffed. The kind you’d see in an asylum. But he knew better. They weren’t there to protect him. They were swallowing him, cell by cell, stitch by stitch.

He’d stopped counting the days. Or hours. Or minutes. They had all dissolved into a slurry. Sometimes the ceiling dripped—thick, clear liquid that smelled faintly like bleach. Other times, it rained ash. But only in the corner. Only where he stared longest.

And then there were the footsteps.

Always clicking. Always expensive shoes. Walking just outside his door. Pausing. Turning back. Pausing again.

Romeo would press his ear to the wall—he swore he could hear them breathing. Not labored, not frantic. Calm. Too calm. Patient.

He tried to scream once. His voice dissolved into the padding. No echo. No sound carried. It was like yelling into a pillow held down over his face.

The cell wasn’t a cell. It was a lung. And it was breathing him in.

Romeo started laughing once—short, broken giggles, because that’s what geniuses did, right? They laughed at fear. But the sound never came out of his throat. He felt it, vibrations in his chest, but the room drank it whole.

And that was worse. That was so much worse.

Because if even his voice didn’t exist here, maybe he didn’t either.

He pressed his hand to the door, slick with his own sweat. On the other side, footsteps stopped. Stayed. Waiting.

“Let me out,” he whispered, though the words went nowhere. His tongue tasted like metal. “Let me out. Let me out."

Silence.

Then—one soft drag of nails against the metal. Slow. Deliberate.

Romeo’s stomach lurched. He staggered back until he hit the padded wall again, shaking his head, whispering to himself over and over:

“It’s not real. It’s not real. It’s not—”

But the scrape came again.

This place wasn’t holding him.

It was keeping him.

All the things that had happened—the smoke, the hallucinations, the silence, the blood that wasn’t there anymore—left him hollow. Empty. Like someone had scooped out the center of him and left a shell behind.

And then—a sound.

A door opening. Not his door. Somewhere beyond, somewhere that existed outside the confines of his padded nightmare.

Romeo froze.

He didn’t know what lay outside. He imagined a layout. An asylum maybe. Rows of cells. Flickering fluorescent lights. The distant hum of machines he couldn’t see. Shadows that twisted around corners, bending reality. The smell of bleach—no, chemical, like the warehouse, like the popsicles. The sick sweetness of decay clung faintly to his nostrils.

And that door… it creaked. A slow, deliberate sound, like something alive moving on the other side. Almost hesitant.

Fear clawed at him. Deep, primitive fear. His body stiffened, every nerve screaming. He pressed back into the corner, knees to chest, arms wrapped around his head.

He thought of his robot. The lab. The hum of electricity and gears and his genius mind at work. Safe. Order. Logic.

Where could they be now?

He didn’t know. He didn’t know the size of this place, or if it ended, or if it could end.

The scrape of something on the floor outside the door made him catch his breath. Tiny metallic clicks. Footsteps? Or claws? Or machinery?

Romeo’s mind raced, trying to map it, to rationalize it. There was no pattern. The walls around him were perfect, too smooth, too bright. The doors were metal, cold. But that one sound… that one movement… felt like it belonged to another world.

He wanted to call out. But even whispering felt like it would alert whatever waited beyond.

He closed his eyes, squeezing them shut. Tried to picture his lab again. The cluttered tables. The humming machines. The precise chaos of wires, screws, and blinking lights.

It didn’t help.

Because even in his mind, the asylum—the corridor, the unknown outside—crept in. Whispered. Breathed.

Romeo shivered. And waited.

A door had opened.

But Romeo couldn’t hear them. Romeo didn´t know anyone had come to save him.

Couldn’t hear the way their hearts had been hammering day after day, night after night, as they searched for him. The frantic pacing through streets, the whispered theories, the arguments, the small victories and endless failures—they didn’t matter to him here. Not yet.

He didn’t know anyone had cared enough to come after him. Not really. Not in this place.

He crouched lower, pressing his face into his knees. His hands trembled.

Somewhere beyond that metal door, footsteps echoed faintly. Or maybe it was just his imagination. Maybe it was the corridor itself breathing. The padding around him seemed to pulse like a heart.

He imagined screams. His own, echoing into the void. But he couldn’t tell if they were real.

He thought of his robot. The lab. The blinking machines and circuits waiting for him somewhere in another life. But the memory was fragile, like smoke in his fingers.

“Why… why am I here?” he whispered, voice shaking. “Where… where is anyone?”

He heard the scrape of the door again, closer this time, and froze. Every instinct screamed to stay invisible, silent, small.

Something was there. Or someone. He didn’t know. And the worst part—he couldn’t know.

Because in this place, no one could hear each other. Not really. Not until it wanted them to.

And Romeo, curled tight in his corner, shivered under the hum of fluorescent lights that weren’t really lights.

Alone. Too alone.

Waiting.

But then again- It was his only chance to get out of there. It didn´t matter if he didn´t knew who was there. he just screamed for help.

------------------------------------------------------------------
VILLAINS AND HEROES POV:

Back with the villains and heroes, the corridor felt like it was swallowing them whole.

Every step sounded wrong—too loud, too sharp against the padded walls. Footfalls should’ve been muffled, but instead they ricocheted back at them, warped, like someone else was walking just behind them.

“Don’t… don’t touch the walls,” Luna Girl muttered suddenly, clutching her arms as if she might disappear into the padding if she leaned too close.

The Wolfies didn’t even argue this time. Their tails hung low, ears twitching at sounds none of the others seemed to hear.

The corridor stretched ahead endlessly, metallic doors repeating over and over, each identical, each hiding something. There were no windows. No numbers. Just infinite sameness.

Night Ninja stopped, forcing them all to halt. He tilted his head, squinting at the corridor. “We’ve been walking in circles.”

Catboy frowned. “That’s impossible. We’ve been going straight the whole time.”

“Then why does the scratch on the floor look exactly like the one you made five minutes ago?” Night Ninja snapped, pointing to a jagged gouge in the concrete strip running down the middle.

Silence.

No one wanted to answer.

Because he was right.

The corridor wasn’t just long. It was wrong.

Then Gecko gagged suddenly, hand over his mouth. The rotten smell had come back, thick and suffocating, like the warehouse all over again—but stronger now. Too strong to ignore.

“Do you smell that?” Gecko gasped.

But Luna Girl shook her head. “I don’t smell anything.”

Pharaoh Boy clutched his stomach, face pale. “I do. Gods, I do.”

So—it wasn’t the same for all of them. Just like the sickness before.

The doors around them seemed to hum faintly, almost as if something on the other side was aware of them. Listening. Waiting.

“Don’t open them,” Night Ninja said sharply, his voice cracking for the first time. “Whatever’s in there, we’re not ready for it.”

But the corridor didn’t let them stop. The more they walked, the heavier the air felt.

And deep down, none of them wanted to admit it out loud—

—but it felt like this place had been waiting for them all along.

...

They all heard it.

A scream—high, cracked, desperate.

“HELP! Somebody—please! Let me out!”

Romeo.

It was Romeo.

Every muscle in their bodies went rigid. Their blood turned to ice and fire all at once.

“He’s here—he’s actually here!” Catboy gasped, sprinting forward before anyone could stop him.

The others stumbled after him, hearts hammering, adrenaline burning away the nausea, the fear. The echo of Romeo’s voice was bouncing through the endless corridor, pulling them like a string.

“Keep calling! Romeo!” Luna Girl shouted, her voice shaking.

But there was no answer now. Just silence.

Then—another scream. Closer. They turned the corner so fast they nearly tripped over each other. Doors stretched ahead like teeth, each one a possibility, each one a trap.

“This way!” Pharaoh Boy yelled, pointing toward the sound.

They were so close—

—when suddenly every door slammed shut at once.

BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG.

The corridor shook with the force of it, a thunderous metallic roar that rattled their bones. The lights flickered overhead, buzzing, dying, then coming back in harsh, sterile white.

And Romeo’s voice—gone.

As if it had never been there at all.

The Wolfies pressed against each other, whimpering. Night Ninja’s fists clenched, nails digging into his palms. He wasn’t going to say it, but the thought was in all of their heads:

What if that wasn’t Romeo at all?

What if the place wanted them to believe he was there?

And worse—what if he was, but they had just lost him?

They didn’t wait for that mistake. Couldn’t.

The Wolfies threw their heads back and howled, the sound splitting through the corridor like a shockwave. Metal screamed and buckled under the vibration, hinges rattling loose.

Catboy darted from door to door, slamming his body against the locks until his shoulders ached. Owlette summoned gusts of wind sharp enough to shear bolts clean out of their sockets. Gekko braced his strength against the frames, prying them apart like they were no more than cardboard.

Luna Girl hurled her magnet with a snarl, the force ripping hinges out, her moths swarming the cracks, prying, tearing, clawing at whatever they could reach.

Pharaoh Boy’s eyes glowed, his voice booming with ancient command. The metal twisted as though bending to his will, peeling back in strips like papyrus burned to ash.

And Night Ninja—maskless, teeth bared—drop-kicked every door in his path. Bone against steel. Rage against silence. Every slam echoed through the padded corridor like a war drum.

BANG. CRASH. SCREECH.

One by one, the doors tore open.

Cells gaped wide.

Empty.

Every. Single. One.

No Romeo. No one. Just endless white rooms, padded walls reeking faintly of bleach and rot, each identical, each mocking them with absence.

“He screamed. He was here!” Luna Girl’s voice cracked, fury and terror mixing until she didn’t know which was which.

Rip’s claws dug into the frame of a door. “Then where—where is he?!”

The corridor seemed to hum around them, vibrating with a frequency none of them could place.

Chapter Text

Night Ninja pressed his forehead to the door he had just kicked in, chest heaving. His vision swam. He wasn’t sure if it was sweat or blood dripping into his eyes.

He blinked, hard. Then again.

The walls… why did they look fake?

Up close, the white padding didn’t seem like real fabric, or even plastic. It shimmered—like a screen trying to hold an image that wouldn’t quite stick. It was like they weren’t in a corridor at all, but inside some kind of projection.

“Do you… see that?” Night Ninja rasped, forcing the words through clenched teeth.

The others turned, and at first, they didn’t notice. The panic, the desperation— they had been too focused on Romeo’s scream, on tearing the place apart. But then…

“Yes,” Pharaoh Boy muttered, uneasy. His hand hovered just above the wall. “It’s… flickering.. kinda...”

Luna Girl touched it with her fingertip. The surface dented, not like foam or cloth, but like liquid straining to stay solid. Her breath hitched. “This isn’t real. This isn’t even—”

The Wolfies backed away, ears flat. “It smells wrong to,” Howler breathed. “Like… like it’s trying to smell clean, but it’s not.”

Owlette’s wings fluttered nervously. “But we heard Romeo. He’s here. He has to be. Right?”

Night Ninja pulled back, tighted his fist at his sides. He couldn’t shake the thought gnawing at his skull—if the walls weren’t real, then maybe the doors weren’t either. Maybe every room they opened was just another layer of this twisted lie.

And if that was true…

“…Then where the hell is he?”

The corridor stretched out in both directions.

And somewhere inside it—hidden deeper, past the projection, past the walls that weren’t walls at all—Romeo was still there.

They just didn’t know how to reach him.

Night Ninja didn’t even hesitate. His stomach churned, his head throbbed, but instinct wad louder than fear.

He sprinted at the wall and—

WHAM.

His boot connected with the padded surface. Instead of the dull thud of impact, there was a sickening crack-snp like glass fracturing underwater. The wall rippled, shuddered, and then caved inward like wet paper.

For a second, silence.

Then—

The broken padding peeled away in jagged shards, vanishing into nothingness as though it had never been real. Behind it was not another cell, not another corridor, but a vast stretch of black—so black it looked alive, like an ocean that swallowed light.

The villains and heroes froze, breath caught in their throats.

“…What the-” Luna whispered, moths fluttering nervously back to her shoulders.

The Wolfies whimpered, tails between their legs, claws scraping at the fake floor as if it might disappear too.

Night Ninja staggered back, chest heaving. His foot tingled, cold and numb from where it had broken through. His glare stayed locked on the void beyond.

Something moved in it.

Not clearly—not like a person, not like Romeo—but a shimmer, like a shadow too thin to belong in three dimensions. It flickered, in and out, as though even it wasn’t sure it should exist.

“Tell me you all see that,” Gekko said, voice breaking.

Nobody answered.

Because they all did.

And yet none of them wanted to admit it.

“Oh fuck it.”

Everyone’s heads snapped toward Night Ninja.

“…Did Night Ninja just cuss?” Rip whispered, eyes wide.

“Yes,” Pharaoh Boy deadpanned, staring as Night Ninja launched himself forward.

WHAM.

He drop-kicked the wall again, harder this time, his heel cracking through the padding like an axe splitting wood. The fake surface buckled, groaned, then collapsed inward with a noise that didn’t sound like breaking plaster at all—it sounded like a scream swallowed mid-breath.

The wall gave way completely, peeling apart in jagged strips, exposing more of that endless void, the black that writhed like liquid tar. The air rushing out was cold, chemical, sharp enough to sting their lungs. The thing they had seen seconds ago wasn´t there anymore.

Luna Girl staggered back, covering her mouth. “That is not normal. That’s not—”

Another kick. Night Ninja wasn’t stopping. His foot slammed, his voice raw with determination.

“ROMEO!”

The scream echoed down the new found corridor, bouncing, multiplying, until it didn’t even sound like him anymore.

Somewhere deep inside, faint, muffled— another voice answered.

“…help…”

Everyone went silent for solid 10 seconds.

They breathed in and out, afraid that if they made any noise Romeo would disappear even if they hadn´t found him yet.

In a rush of adreneline, Night ninja sprinted through the broken wall. Didn´t look back or waited for the others to catch up with him.

Because in this moment, he found something deeper within himself. One feeling. The feeling he never thought he would have to deal with.

And on top of that feeling was Romeo.

His crush..? His enemy..

Night Ninja´s breath was ragged, heavy. He cluntched his fists.

Now was not the time to be thinking about him in any other way than a frien- frenemy that needed help..

The corridor seemed to stretch along with each step Night Ninja ran.

For Night Ninja- this seemed like a dream that could never happen. Something that he and the others had worked so much for just so it wouldnt be true.

Each step he slowed down felt like he was giving up on Romeo.

Each step reminded him of how many times they had worked together in order to bring the Pj Masks down.

Even when they hated each others guts.

Even if they didnt considered themselfs as friends.

Even if they insulted each other every other minute.

But he would be lying if he said that he didn´t glance at Romeo while he threatned the Pj Masks with some grand invention.

He would be lying if he said that, while Romeo explained his plans to him, his gaze would fall upon his lips.

He would be lying if he said that he didn´t feel his heart throb every time Romeo toutched his shoulder.

He would be lying if he said that he didnt feel a burning sensation on his chest when Romeo called him for some random project.

He shook his head. He had to remind himself to not lose focus.

In seconds, a tired scream echoed through the air-

"H-help!"

Night Ninja felt close. Close enought to have another rush of adreneline. Another reminder that he shouldn´t give up. Not on him, not now.

-----------------------------
Romeo´s POV

He could hear someone running.

He didn´t know if his scream for help had really reached anyone´s ears.

It was out of his control. He had done that almost out of frustration.
He really didn´t know if that scream was a mistake.

What if it had atracted the beast that had him there all by himself.

Gosh- he didn´t even know if anyone was there to rescue him and rip him off of this burning hell.

He felt tears spilling from the corner of his dry eyes. He blinked a couple of times before letting that burning sensation settle off.

He had heard a loud bang before, someone breaking throught somthing. But at what point could that be a threat? Or someone actually saving him.

He prayed for it to be the later.

Because now he didn´t had much hope left.

That is until he starts hearing footsteps again. Slow this time.

These were steps of someone who is dragging their feet because they have to.

Because have a reason to continue walking foward.

----------------------------------------------
end of romeo´s POV

...

Night Ninja stopped running seconds ago- but didn´t stop walking. And he wouldn´t stop any time soon if it meant finding Romeo.

Night Ninja had long forgotten that he left the others behind.

What mattered now was finding Romeo alive, and bring him back.

Bring everything back the way it was.

The way it was meant to be.

He continued, each stepped heavier than the last, panting in small gasps.

That is until he finally sees something other than these fake walls- a door.

The first door he had seen since they discovered the secret corridor.

He aproached the door with some sense of fear.

"R-Romeo? Are you here.?"

Silence fallowed.

But then a tiny gasp echoed from the misterious room.

"N-Night Ninja..?"

Night Ninja´s eyes widened.

He couldn´t believe it. Romeo´s voice- only thing separating them was a door- but it still felt like he was missing.

His voice sounded dry, lifeless, as if a corpse wanted to speak with the little strength it would have buried in a desert.

Night Ninja shook his head once more.

"D-don´t worry- I´ll get you out of here!" he stumbled upon his words a bit. It was all too good to be true.

He tried to break the door down.

Kicks.
Punches.

All a ninja could do.
But it wasn´t enough.

"Night Ninja!"

He heard someone call from behind. It was the other villains and the Pj Masks.

All of them panting like they had ran the whole country.
He was so focused on finding Romeo that he ran about all of that building and didn´t notice.

Well, he could use some help.

"He is here- help me break this down"

"But- Night ninja-" Catboy interjected while gasping for air. By the looks of it, not even the fastest cat could outrun a ninja in distress.

"Now." His tone indicated finality. No questions asked.

And so one by one, they all tried their powers on that door.

It was already giving out. They could tell that much by the squeaking noises that the hinges made every time someone tried to force it down.

With a final punch from gecko´s power- the door fell.

But they wished it hadn´t.

The silence after the door fell was loud. They could finally see the inside. They could see Romeo. But not in the way they wanted.

The room showed the precarious state in which Romep was. Not only Romeo, but the room itself.

The walls were moldie, green, sticky. The floor was in that same state.

But Romeo was..

Lord.

What have they done.

What had HE done to deserve this.

His eyes were widened, his pupils were blown.

His glasses were broken far away in one of the room´s corners.

His clothes were completely ripped apart. His hair a mess.

There was blood everywhere.

But that didn´t stop Night Ninja from entering the room. His eyes not once living the boy.

HE stumbled on his feet, slowly aproaching Romeo, almost afraid he would disappear again.

"R-Romeo..?" He croached down just in front of him.

Romeo looked up at him. "N-night N-ni-ninja..?" He mouthed. He tried to change from where he had sat all this time. But his legs didn´t coperate.

"Hey- hey don´t move- Its okay. Its all okay now, we are were-" he extended his arms as if to reach an wounded animal.

Romeo flinched slightly. He still didn´t quite believe anyone had really came to get him out of that hell hole.

But slowly he rose his hand slowly to meet with Night Ninja´s.

Their faces softened, watching as Night Ninja helped Romeo on his feet. This soft moment was everything, the only moment of piece they had in what? Months?

They were getting out of that place. It was hard to believe- but it was true.

They still had to walk all the way back without being seen.

"Guys we still have to walk back to the exit" Pharoh Boy broke the silence for the first time in what felt hours.

"Yes, I think I can get Romeo out faster if he gets on my back" said Catboy, already aproaching Romeo.

Romeo didn´t speak. His gaze unfocused as Night Ninja helped lifting him up onto Catboy´s back.

He didn´t move much after that, still in shock.

"Brace yourself" Catboy got into position. With flick of his tail- He ran as fast as he could.

Romeo, although with his mind numb, was grateful that the noises he heard before weren´t hallucinations. No illusions that played tricks in his mind.

Only piece.

Finally, piece.

Who would´ve thought? Maybe his "colleagues" weren´t so bad after all.

Chapter Text

I know yall have been waiting for some time for chapter 13 for quite some time- BUT its being written!! Slowly? Yes. But Im here to give some answers (that NOBODY asked for).

-First, 11 grade started 2 weeks ago and its been hell 💔

-Second, my brother is moving out today for 5 months for an internship In a hospital or smth- so I've been helping my Mother out with what my brother needs. (Anxiety is spiking)

-Third, I HAVE to absolutely lock in on descriptive geometry, history of culture and arts, filosophy...etc

And right now Im writting This from the Supermarket, SO YALL BETTER BE GRATEFUL 💔😭😭

I'll post a pic of the last geometry exercice when i get home, so Yall can see how much i suffer💔

(Just so Yall now- i didnt chose geometry, I chose math b, which is a easier type of math compared to math A. But then, One of the staff members called my mom saying that the subject didnt "Open" or didnt have teachers, so I, by force, HAD TO CHOSE GEOMETRY, AND HAVE TO STUDY IT, EVEN THO I DIDNT CHOOSE IT😭😭😭 which is totally unfair because I CHOSE THE EASIER ONE FOR A REASON)

So yeah, this are the reasons to why this chapter is being written slowly. 

Chapter Text

The walk back was peaceful, well, more than it could be. They were still completely horrified from this- let's call it- experience. But maybe, when they get out of there, they could finally sleep.

Of course, there were still some questions about what happened, but they would have to ask Romeo about it when he gets better.

Right now, they have to focus on getting Romeo safe. All of them safe.

When they walked back and stopped in front of the exit door, they collectively sighed. This was it. They finally made it out. Finally.

It was almost impossible to believe it.

Now they just had to find somewhere where they could all rest together. (Because none of them will actually rest without any kind of company.)

As soon as they got outside of that fake store, they breathed in and out as if they were holding it all the way until now. The air seemed cleaner than usual.

"Where are we going to stay?" Owlette whispered loud enough for them to hear her clearly. She glanced over everyone, the wolfies, Pharao boy, Luna, Catboy holding on to Romeo, Gecko, and Night Ninja, who had been quieter than usual.

Night Ninja thought for some seconds, then a memory flooded his mind- an old warehouse- The one the villains used to go and do plans separately. The one place they promised not to wreck in pieces, once something went wrong.

It was a huge, abandoned, empty warehouse; they only decorated a bit in their own corners. Some lights here, some couches there, a tiny kitchen with just about everything someone would need to cook something simple, a small bathroom with medical kits (The ninjalinos use most of it), some separate rooms to when someone is about to throw a tantrum (Which happened frequently), so they decided to throw in some pillows. Some nights, they would even fall asleep there, which caused even more problems involving blackmail, but no one talks about that specific thing..

"Let's go to the warehouse," He winced at his own voice.

How long has it been since he last spoke? Were the corridors so long that he zoned out and forgot to talk, or were they actually an illusion that made it look like they were big? Night Ninja groaned. He brought up his fingertips and placed them over his temple. This was not the time to think about this. They just had to get to the warehouse. Questions were going to be answered once they were safe and at peace.

"Uh? What warehouse? What are you talking about?" Catboy interrupted his thoughts. Night Ninja looked over Catboy and watched him adjust Romeo, who was now passed out, on his back.

Night Ninja sighed. "It's this abandoned place that we, villains, used to go when we wanted to make plans without anyone interfering or laughing-"

"And that worked?" Owlette raised an eyebrow.

"Yes. We made rules. Anyways- It's a safe place. And I think Romeo could use a place he remembers to rest." Night Ninja ended the conversation there. Letting them talk to each other until they reached the warehouse.

It was surprisingly clean- for villains. Of course, there was dust everywhere. Inventions and plans were scattered all over, but at least it was kinda cozy. The yellow-ish orange lights were comforting, some plants made the air look cleaner, and there were some decorations glued (yes, glued) to the walls (mostly from the ninjalinos). It was like a cozy hangout place.

Only it was made to make plans about destroying or taking over the earth. But still cozy.

They immediately felt at home. Was that even a feeling? Maybe. More like the word "saudade" from the European Portuguese.

"Longing" should be enough, but this?
Only the word "saudade" can describe this feeling.

The familiar smell, their assigned chairs, and spots. They were all there. Like they froze in time.

Hm. When did they stop coming here? This place was great!

Maybe they all just collectively forgot..

Anyways!

"Romeo´s room is close to the bathroom," Luna informed.

This was still too strange, but comforting in a way.

Catboy carefully laid him down on his bed. He brushed the dust off the sheets before doing so.

Luna girl floated inside the room, closer. She stared for a moment before crossing her arms. "He looks horrible," She stated.

"Well.. He almost died, didn´t he?" Gecko entered the room, glaring at no one in particular. The feeling of seeing someone who was hurt in more ways than he should´ve been, in this situation, left him speechless for some seconds. "We almost died."

An eerie silence settled after that last phrase. The room was left to a quiet hum.

Night Ninja pushed a chair over and finally sat down just beside Romeo´s bed.

He replayed the moment he found Romeo multiple times in his head. The image of what Romeo could have possibly endured during the time he disappeared made his conscience impossibly heavy. He had the feeling that he could´ve prevented this. He doesn´t know how... it just didn´t make sense anyway.

He crossed his arms while unconsciously glaring at Romeo´s tired body.

His body.. Oh, He completely forgot that he had to tend his body.

He scared everyone as he used one of his smoke bombs to disappear.

"lord-! Is he crazy or what?" Pharaoh boy jumped, glaring at the spot Night Ninja had been seconds ago. "That pesky Ninja.." He grumbled.

"Shut up." Night Ninja appeared right behind him, making him jump again, tripping this time.

"You-!" Pharaoh boy groaned. Night Ninja passed over him.

Night Ninja had bandages, pain medication, healing creams, and everything he thought he would need to heal Romeo as fast as possible. Not because he wanted to rush him, but because he couldn´t bear looking at Romeo like this.

He sat down on his previous spot, starting to undress some parts of his clothing (respectfully) and carefully applying some of the creams he brought with him with surprising steadiness.

After the creams were smooth over Romeo´s bruised skin, he started wrapping the bandages as if he had done this a billion times before.

After he was done tending Romeo´s injuries, he brushed a strand of hair off his face with some kind of tenderness. His hand froze for some moments over where he had stopped. Then he slowly backed his hands away from Romeo´s temple.

He didn´t really care if the others were watching this or not. Without taking a breath, he stood up and summoned another smoke bomb to exit the room.

They were left alone, frozen in place. Did Night Ninja just let himself show tenderness and care for Romeo? Without lashing out at them for watching?

Night Ninja has been acting so strange lately. But a good kind of strange. He was more... relaxed? Less like a composed leader and more like a friend who actually cares. Of course, they knew it wouldn´t last, but it was good seeing him growing up (Totally unrelated to how small he was compared to them) into a better, more bearable individual.

They stood around for some moments before settling down, scattered in the room. They didn´t know where Night Ninja had gone.

Meanwhile, with Night Ninja.

He had teleported to his own dusty old room. He sat down at the foot of the bed and crouched down, hugging his knees.

He was blushing like crazy, and he hadn´t put his mask back on the whole time he was there, so that means that they probably saw him blushing! This was a disaster. A complete disaster. What if Romeo had woken up and seen him blushing? He would´ve ruined everything between them if they even had something between them at this point.

He gripped his hair in an attempt to calm himself down. It didn´t work. Night Ninja pushed his own hands away from his hair, hugging his knees again and burying his face between them. His face was burning up again. If the others saw him like this, they would probably be laughing right now.

He took a deep breath. Then another. He told himself that it was going to be okay, that they were not going to find out, but it was difficult when his blood was pulsing faster every other second. The images of Romeo clung to his mind ever since he found him in that dirty room.

Minutes felt like hours. Or maybe it's actually been hours. He doesn´t know. It´s difficult to know what time it is when you´re spiraling about your stupid crush.

Wait- did he just admit it was a crush?

Damn it.

He was sweating now, and strands of his hair were matted to his forehead. He finally stood up, a groan escaping his throat. He messed up his hair and brushed the dust off his clothes. He didn´t put his mask back on; he didn´t have anything to hide anymore.

He was still zoned out. Like nothing mattered anymore. He was hoping that Romeo would be okay. He was praying for him not to hate them all for taking so long to find him.

*Thud*

He heard commotion from where Romeo was sleeping, so he finally broke out of his frozen state and started moving towards Romeo´s room. Anxiety flooded his mind as he walked closer and closer. He opened the door to find Romeo, now sitting, breathing heavily like he had just had a nightmare. Everyone was trying to calm him down, but in doing so, they were crowding him too much.

"Hey!" Night Ninja barked, making everyone, including Romeo, stop what they were doing. Romeo´s eyes widened as he glanced up for the first time since he woke up. His eyes stopped on Night Ninja. His breathing immediately calmed down when he saw him.... without his mask. He only knew it was Night Ninja because he still had his star-y ninja suit, but his mask was off. He looked around, but everyone seemed too casual about it. He figured out that he had taken it off when they were trying to find him. It made sense- but at the same time it didn´t. Night Ninja followed the Ninja code seriously, to the point of never taking his mask off at any moment. This was.. surprising..

Why was his face burning up? Romeo groaned; it looked like he had zoned out for a bit. When he got out of his own mind, he saw them explaining what happened to him. But Night Ninja never stopped looking at him for one second.

Night Ninja without his mask was... an experience.. to say the least.

He was pretty.. Wait, wait, wait, no, no no- HE CAN´T think of that now! Absolutely not! He felt his face burning up again.

Night Ninja approached and placed one hand over his forehead.

"You´re burning up."

Oh, you don´t say genius?! Romeo groaned again out of frustration- how could he be so oblivious to their distance right now? Why was he so close? Didn´t he notice? Ugh, this dumb ninja was so irritating sometimes- but then again.. He did save him from that place.

But unconsciously, he pushed Night Ninja with a hand on his chest. Then he looked up again- Night Ninja blushed.

Uhhh, what was he going to do now? They were both too close. They were both blushing. And they were both being watched...

The burning feeling quickly washed away as Night Ninja pushed his hand back. He grabbed a wet cloth from the bedside table and placed it over Romeo´s forehead. He must´ve thought that he had a headache. How thoughtful of him.. Since when has he been like this? All good-hearted- ew.

All this thinking got him distracted by everything that happened before. Don´t get him wrong, though; he was grateful that they saved him from that hell. But it was strange how everyone got involved so quickly. The second thing he would do was ask them what happened and how they found him.

The first thing was...

"Did y-you get infected by these Pj goodies?" He rasped out.

Night Ninja´s eyes widened. Then fell into recognition. Of course, Romeo would make sarcastic comments while he looked dead inside. Good thing to know that he didn´t leave his sense of humor back there.

"Be grateful I don´t push you off the bed right now," Night Ninja, despite everything, smirked. Just like old times.

Romeo smirked back, but not the usual ´I'm going to kill all of you and rule the world´ smirk. It was something softer. More sincere.

Everyone was watching this with some sort of amusement. They all noticed how Night Ninja was the most anxious about Romeo since the beginning of their search. They all knew about their mutual crush, even if they didn´t know about it themselves. These two were completely oblivious to each other, even when they were both visibly blushing without breaking eye contact for even a second.

Romeo looked around with some sort of confusion. Why did they bring him to this place? It's all dusty and uncleaned. Now that he thinks about it, none of them had come here in quite some time. So, why? They didn´t use to talk much to each other, at least inside this wherehouse. It was almost thoughtful- which was strange, at least from them. Why were they acting so mushy and lovey? Disgusting, but also interesting.. Maybe he could exploit this later.

Romeo smirked unconsciously, not minding if everyone in the room saw it. They were used to Romeo´s strange behaviors.

It used to be like that.. But now? It was just very, very unsettling. Why was he smiling after all he went through?

"Romeo- why are you smirking like that- after all of this?!"

Romeo put his thoughts aside for a moment. Maybe it wasn't the best idea to make evil plans right after he was kidnapped and tortured..

"Uh.. I don´t really remember what happened." The whole room froze. Night Ninja´s eyes froze on Romeo´s. "What? How do you not remember?!"

"I just don´t.." He shrugged off as if it was nothing, but everyone knew it wasn´t that easy.

Night Ninja breathed in and out. "Okay. Do you remember anything at all? Even if it´s minimum information?"

Romeo looked away as if to think about something. Anything. This could be vital information to find out who kidnapped Romeo. And who owned that store? And why did they want Romeo out of all of them-

He remembers something, actually. "Uhm, I remember the room being sterile, too clean. Like someone poured bleach all over the place."

The room, which was already frozen in place, froze even more at the statement. Their eyes widened in terror. Luna girl paled even more. They specifically remember commenting on how dirty that place was. But they also remember how clean it was..

Their memories were a mess; they remember saying things that contradicted themselves on their own. But at the time it seemed explainable, it seemed rational, it seemed.... normal..

Romeo looked around the room. His confusion was visible.

"Why are you guys freaking out this much? I only said that it was-" Romeo was interrupted by Night Ninja's sudden movements.

"Romeo-" Night Ninja´s breath hitched. "The room wasn't cleaned," He whispered. But it was loud enough for Romeo to hear. "What? What do you.. mean..?"

"It wasn´t cleaned. It was disgusting. Especially the smell."

Romeo´s heart skipped a beat, his gaze unfocused on a random point of the room. "H-how-"

He looked up again, perhaps looking for comfort, but everyone else was just as horrified as he was.

The room´s atmosphere dropped. Everyone looked pale and out of breath. It had ended already.. But why do they still feel like this... like it didn´t end at all? Like they are still stuck.

Night Ninja shook his head. This was not the perfect time to feel like shit. He finally moved, the thoughts still lingering in his mind, but he continued to suppress them, for his own sake. He walked up to Romeo (accidentally startling Catboy and Pharaoh Boy, who were at his side).

Luna Girl started to move in their direction, too.

But- maybe for comfort, maybe just so that they would be alone during the night- they all moved to that one bed and settled.

Just to keep company.

Just... to be there.