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A fist cracks against Joel’s jaw, a burst of pain blossoming up the left side of his face as he staggers backwards.
The villain, if he can be called that, isn’t one Joel’s seen before. It’s not too abnormal for the occasional villain or vigilante to pop up every few months, even if it makes his job infinitely bloody harder. This one, whose name he thinks is The Ooze-?
Doesn’t matter. As far as Joel’s concerned that’s his name now.
The Ooze is one of the former, a pop-up villain seemingly determined to make Joel’s shift as difficult as possible for no reason other than to prove he has a right to terrorize the city. Not that he’s doing too great of a job, besides landing an admittedly solid right hook.
Not that Joel’s hurt, of course. He’s simply too strong to be pained by a single punch, no matter how squarely it connected with his very strong jaw or how much power it had behind it.
Nevermind the fact that his eyes are watering slightly, he’s simply bored to tears by how routine this encounter is.
Joel snaps his gaze back to stare at The Ooze, trying his best to ignore his smarting head. “Nice going asshole, now I’m going to have to spend the next week covering my face with makeup so people don’t think I’m getting beat up.” Instead of looking properly apologetic in the face of Joel’s very mature, stern, certainly not watering stare, The Ooze simply flicks his wrist in Joel’s direction.
A spurt of cold blue slime suddenly covers his legs and slides under his feet, immediately throwing Joel off balance as he tries to scrape all of it off his pants before it dries. Stupid uppity upstart villains and their complete and utter disregard for professional standards. Slayer would never consider staining his clothes.
Granted, she’s also hit him considerably harder, not to mention the many, many times she’s used him as a pincushion over the last few years.
“-now I’ll finally be able to prove that you heroes aren’t all you’re cracked up to be! I’ll start by unmasking you, and then all your coworkers. The entire agency will be dismantled in a matter of days, it’s the perfect plan!” Apparently, the villain was monologuing and Joel missed half of it. Given the part he did catch, there wasn’t much to miss.
Joel sighs, admitting defeat with his pants before pivoting and shoving his sunglasses back up to the bridge of his nose. “Sorry I forgot to listen or care. Are you done messing about now? Ready to hang the mask up and go back to your day job?” Perhaps it’s a bit mean to dog on this guy as much as he is, but it’s also mean to punch the local working superhero in the face, so he’s not going to feel too broken up about it.
His face certainly isn’t feeling any better the longer he stands here in this goopy mess, that’s for sure. The Ooze stares at him, possibly frozen by just how cool that response was. Or, more likely, he’s transfixed by the steadily growing explosion currently sitting in Joel’s right palm.
That might be it.
“Why aren’t you taking this seriously? I just trapped you in my patented Slime Spot and told you I’m going to unmask you, and you weren’t even listening.” Slime Spot? Wow that name needs work. Surprisingly, The Ooze sounds genuinely curious about Joel’s general lack of interest, even if he is also hurt by it. That’s the first part of this shift that’s actually caught his attention.
A small shiver racks Joel’s body. The slime, just as cold as it was several minutes ago, is starting to sink through his pants and onto his skin, the chill radiating in painful waves. “Well for one, Slime Spot? That needs to be workshopped, you go up against Angel, or Teknic, or Swagger, or Sanguis, or really anyone else except Azriel on our roster and tell them that and they’ll laugh you right out of the city.” Is it smart to help this guy out? Not particularly, in terms of his job security. But half of that is for Joel’s benefit, just so he doesn’t have to keep hearing that horrible name.
“And another thing, you’re not going to beat me. You throw a good punch, if I’m giving credit where credit is due. But a good punch isn’t going to stop me from throwing this-” Joel gestures with his left hand towards the explosive ball in his other palm, “-at you.”
The Ooze deflates slightly, his hand somewhat outstretched like more of this cold, goopy slime might make the situation better. It will not. Joel peers slightly over the tops of his shades, staring The Ooze directly in the eyes. “If I were you, I’d give up. You punched me, which means I don’t feel bad in the slightest about throwing this at your feet and turning you in.” Really, turning in this halfwit would only give him more paperwork to do. Boring paperwork at that, not even anything fitting of Joel’s numerous talents.
Joel goes to step forward and nearly falls, his feet still stuck in the slime on the pavement. Right. With an irritated sigh he tosses the explosive ball at his feet, pulling the intensity of the blast back so only a small pothole is left in the road. Now that his feet are free he slowly steps forward, his voice rising in pitch. “Now I’m going to give you one more blummin’ chance to leave and we chalk this up to a warning.” Perhaps he sounds a bit manic, but at this point it’s justified.
His face is still killing him, though luckily he doesn’t think it’s starting to swell, his nice black pants are damp, cold, and stained a bright blue, and he’s hungry. Any and all levels of mania are completely acceptable. Granted, he’s a perfect hero, no matter what Azriel thinks, so anything he does is completely and perfectly acceptable.
Everything is silent for a moment, Joel’s fingers sparking repeatedly from his irritation. The Ooze gives one last look at Joel’s hands before shifting backwards. “This isn’t the last you’ve seen of me Riot! I’ll be back, just you wait!” With that he turns his back and throws his hands out, covering the road in slime as he skates away on it.
What a weirdo.
And that’s saying something, considering the sheer amount of strange things that happen here near-daily.
Joel scoffs, cracking and rolling out his neck as he taps a few buttons on his watch. “Zed, I'm going on a break. Try not to need me for at least thirty minutes.” Are they technically allowed to go on breaks? No. Is he absolutely going to take one anyway to try and rid himself of this void forsaken headache before someone else comes along to ruin his day? Absolutely.
“Fair enough! I saw that punch, Hydrogel clocked you pretty solid. If you start feeling off call me back immediately so we can get you concussion tested.” Of course Zed had seen that. Of course. Now, it’s not as if Joel had let out a mildly embarrassing noise when he was punched, or sworn up quite a storm under his breath as he was shaking it off, that would be absurd.
He didn’t do any of those things because it didn’t hurt, obviously.
The call disconnects. Zed will take him off the grid for at least thirty minutes, tell the Watchers it’s a system outage if they ask. It’s one of the many reasons Joel enjoys Zed as his comms person over Jeremy. That jerk had filled in for an entire week last June when Zed had abruptly needed some time off, and he was an absolute stickler for protocol. At least Joel’d only been scheduled to work twice that week.
Joel glances around the area lazily, until a small stand outside an unassuming corner store catches his eye. It’s a poster for the newest book in the “Halfway to Heroism” graphic novel series, one he knows Jimmy loves.
His birthday is coming up…..
Before he can think on it a second longer or give another villain the opportunity to try and jump him, Joel finds himself wandering into the store.
The door opens with a small ding. Joel’s immediately struck by how blessedly cool it is in the building, almost bordering on the verge of cold. It’s also surprisingly empty, even behind the register.
Even better, now he doesn’t have to maintain any sort of awkward small talk as he stumbles his way around here. It’s easy enough to find the new book, given all the posters surrounding it and it being front and center in the room. Technically, he could pay now and leave, spend the rest of his break nursing a coffee or taking a nap.
But if he’s getting things for Jimmy’s birthday, he can’t half-ass it. Void knows he gives the guy enough of a hard time as it is, he deserves to feel special on his birthday. Plus, perhaps, just maybe, Joel’s been a bit too hard on him the last few days.
And even though he’d kill anyone who dared to call him out on it, Joel’s already got a nice preening session secretly set up for later tonight, complete with Jimmy’s favorite snacks, episodes of his favorite reality shows queued up, and all of his favorite blankets sitting in the dryer waiting to be spun so they’re warm.
As Joel’s leafing through a vaguely interesting comic about some sort of diamond heist, a dry voice from across the room definitely doesn’t scare him. And he doesn’t practically throw the book across the room in fear, and certainly doesn’t almost accidentally explode the bookshelf. And in all that not-fright, he completely misses what the guy said. Joel lets out a long breath, trying to hide it underneath a scoff. “Geez, you can’t sneak up on a guy like that! Not that you scared me, of course, but a less vigilant person would’ve been terrified!” He pauses for a second, biting back a groan. “But uh- I didn’t quite catch what you said. What with my vigilance and all.”
The chuckle that follows is just as dry. “Uh huh. As I was saying, you need to watch where you’re getting that slime. I’m the one who's got to mop up after you, so I’d appreciate you making my job a little easier.” Joel finally turns around to see who he’s speaking to, his eyes locking on to the register where a man with a gray face mask, white hair with white ears sticking out of it, and dark red eyes, one scarred, is now sitting behind.
It’s like his brain short circuits, just for a moment.
The person behind the register is gorgeous. Maybe he is concussed.
When Joel turns around, the person’s eyes flicker with recognition. “Oh, you’re Riot. Are you- is the store about to be attacked?” Why would he- ah. Right. He is still in costume. With slime covered pants and a bruised face. That would do it.
Joel smirks, biting back a wince at the soreness of his jaw. “Nope, no attacks here! This is an unrelated shopping trip for my break. Not that any supervillain would be foolish enough to attack while I’m here, of course.” The blank stare that greets him in return cuts through his bravado in a second, his smirk wavering.
“Well you look like shit, so I’m not sure I believe that. Either way, can you pick up that book you threw? You’re a superhero, you should know disorderly conduct is a crime.” It’s subtle, but there’s a hint of amusement underlining the words, accompanied with the slightest twitch of his ears. Joel’s suddenly struck by how much he wants to hear it again. Clearly The Ooze had knocked something in his brain awry with that punch, because Joel has no idea why he’s suddenly interested in a social interaction.
He silently moves over to the book, carefully setting it back on its shelf before walking up to the counter beside the register and leaning on it. A closer look reveals that the man’s name is Etho and that he’s watching Joel, who straightens and clears his throat. “Y’know, Effo, it’s quite rude to tell a customer they look like shit.” Joel laughs a little, readjusting the books in his hand. “Admittedly, it’s also funnier.”
Etho gives him a strange look, turning to face him more fully. “Did you just say Effo? That’s-” A small laugh slips out from behind the mask, light and airy. If Joel was poetic, something he’d rather die than be, he’d go so far as to say it was musical, like a wind chime on a nice summer’s day.
Void, what’s wrong with him? Where’s all his normal ego and snark when he needs it most?
Joel glowers at Etho. “Yeah, that’s what it says on your name tag innit?” He’d never make as silly of a mistake as misreading a name tag, not when his powers of observation are so keen and finely developed.
“No, it says Etho. You said Effo.” Etho tilts his head slightly, and based on the way his eyes have turned razor-sharp, Joel can only imagine he’s smirking beneath the mask.
Never one to back down from a challenge, Joel leans in slightly. “Oh, I’m sorry. In case your eyes don’t work, I got cracked pretty good in the jaw earlier. That might be what you’re hearing, because of course I know how to say Effo.” Etho snickers again, as Joel can feel his face start to heat up slightly.
He leans in to match Joel, halving the distance between them. “Now here I thought you said you’re the peak of vigilance, how on earth did you miss a punch to the face?” Etho’s definitely smirking this time, his mask crinkling slightly as his eyes do. It’s a nice look on him. Not that that changes the fact that he’s questioning Joel’s amazing superhero skills, of course.
Or the fact that he’s at a complete loss for words.
Joel’s mouth falls open slightly as he scrambles to think up a comeback. “I- you know-” He hasn’t been rendered speechless in a long time. As aggravating as Etho and his smug face are, Joel also can’t resist a challenge.
He puffs his chest out, flicking his shades down a tad so he can look down at Etho over them. “I am the peak of vigilance. I only got punched because I was avoiding a much worse fate, of course. Being a hero is all about risk analysis Effo, not that I expect you’d know that. But since we’re asking questions, do you treat all your customers like this? Or am I special?”
Realistically, there’s no reason whatsoever that he should assume that this interaction is anything other than standard. He doesn’t know Etho, and Etho doesn’t know him.
Stupidly, a small part of him hopes that this is out of the ordinary.
This time Etho’s the one to balk slightly, his ears laying significantly flatter on his head. “Well- no. You just seemed like someone who needed his ego knocked down a peg or two. It’s an added bonus that you can keep up with the banter.” He pauses for a second, his voice dropping in volume. “As for the rest of our customers- no. I prefer to stay in the back unless someone directly asks for me. Saw you looking at one of my favorite comics though, so I thought I’d pop out.”
Quickly, Joel tries to think back to the details of the book he’d been flipping through last. Something about heists, diamonds, and a silly love triangle? While he’s still recalling the details, he flicks his shades back up all the way. “Oh really? I don’t know much about comics to be honest, but it seemed pretty interesting.” Etho narrows his eyes at that, his face shifting into something Joel can’t read.
Look, he may be good at most things, but even amazingly capable superheroes have their limits. His just happens to be social cues.
“So you don’t know much about comics, but you came into a comic store? And seemed to know what you were looking for pretty quickly as well. Why are you here?” Despite Etho’s narrowed eyes and general bite in his voice, Joel’s struck by the realization that it’s a genuine question when he sees Etho lean forward slightly, as his tone shifts to something more inquisitive.
Shit.
Joel can handle sarcasm and banter, and even if Etho’s been leaving him speechless more often than not, he can handle it. But honesty? Honesty is much harder, it implies there might be another meeting, another conversation. Granted, this is a small thing to be somewhat honest about, but it’s a gateway to real conversations.
Those are the ones he’s- well he’s never afraid of anything. Obviously. But if he had to have a fear, maybe it would be getting close to new people. People outside the Specula sphere, who can’t defend themselves, who could be hurt if he isn’t careful enough.
He needs to think fast. Sure, his presence here in the store really doesn’t have to do with his hero persona at all. But the books are for Jimmy. If they were just for himself this would be easy, a harmless lie. Since they aren’t though, the hard part is figuring out a story that’s believable enough he won’t forget, but won’t risk putting Jimmy in danger on the off chance someone else is listening with less than good intentions, or on the even smaller chance Etho himself is a supervillain.
Joel waves his hand noncommitally. “They’re for my-” his brain buffers slightly, trying to run through his options. Best friend? No, that could put a target on Jimmy’s back. Colleague? This is too friendly for a simple colleague relationship, by a lot. Nemesis wouldn’t even make sense, which means the last option left is- “brother. They’re for my brother as a surprise.”
Etho’s eyes brighten immediately as he leans back on his stool. Joel catches a quick glimpse of a white tail behind the counter as it flicks up with the movement. Etho must be some type of fox hybrid, and given his hair color and the temperature of the store, Joel’s willing to bet he’s an arctic one. “Well that’s nice of you. Older or younger?” The question is light, but it immediately sets Joel’s nerves on edge.
Why hadn’t he just lied and said they were for him? It’d be a little weird given that he’d just said he didn’t read comics, but he hadn’t expected Etho to take a genuine interest in what he was saying! What a jerk, actually trying to connect with Joel using active listening skills.
Stupid blummin’ common courtesy.
“Younger by a year. Maybe two. I can never quite remember if I’m being honest.” At least this isn’t a lie, and Joel lets his usual snappy tone bleed back into his words. He needs to calm down. They’re simple questions about something that’s only half a lie. Easy peasy.
Joel's faced much harder challenges than small talk with an attractive man, this will be a walk in the park.
And as long as he tells himself that, he can pretend his anxiety is just about keeping up the lie, and not over the fact that he actually wouldn't mind having an honest conversation with Etho.
Etho laughs lightly, the sound just as captivating as it was the first time. “Yeah, you would be an older brother.” He rolls his eyes, his ears twitching downwards again. Joel sputters, throwing his hands up in outrage.
“Oi! Well what the bloody hell is that supposed to mean Effo!” Despite his shouting Joel barely manages to choke back a laugh, the notion entirely abandoned once Etho starts doubling over with laughter.
For a few moments both of them silently laugh, only egged on by the lack of noise leaving either of their mouths. Joel can’t remember the last time he laughed quite this hard, though he’d be willing to bet it was at Scott, Jimmy, or Tango’s expense.
When they’ve finally managed to get themselves together for the most part, Joel peers down over the tops of his shades again. “Y’know, I’ve been meaning to get into comics myself. Why don’t you show me some of your favorites?” It’s meant to be a casual thing, flippant even. That’s what he tries to make it sound like.
But Joel can’t help but wince at the striking note of authenticity behind the question.
Because maybe, just maybe, he just wants to hear Etho talk more, get to know him a little better under the guise of being a customer, without having to make it any more serious than that.
Etho smiles, standing up and crossing to the other side of the counter where Joel’s standing. “I’d be happy to.” Joel smiles a little more. A super cool, calm, collected smile of course. His cheeks aren’t hurting from how wide it is, his face doesn’t feel slightly flushed, it’s just a normal, casual smile he’d give anyone. Totally.
The next twenty minutes pass in a blur, Etho taking him from shelf to shelf and handing him a book or two from each. In spite of how little time they’ve known each other, each suggestion sounds perfectly tailored to his interests, and he even manages to pick up a few more books to add to Jimmy’s gift while they’re at it.
Although the banter doesn’t stop as they browse the shelves, Etho almost feels like a different person. His tails, of which he has two, flick and drift at random, his ears accentuate most of his dry humor even if his tone doesn’t, and he’s clearly passionate about his job. It’s mesmerizing.
Joel finds himself completely lost in Etho’s orbit as he starts going on about his favorite series, the one Joel was glancing at earlier, “Boat Boys Brigade.” The premise sounds a bit silly, but Etho talks about it so fondly that Joel finds himself adding it to his stack of books anyway, already silently marking it as his very first read from the haul.
Once they’ve covered the entire store they return to the register, Joel dropping the books down on the counter. He’s very strong, of course, but even for him it’s a relief to finally set them all down and give his arms a rest. He’s got to be ready to take on the second half of his shift, obviously!
“You know, you’ve certainly made my day very interesting, Riot, I can tell you that.” The steady beep of Etho adding his books to the total cost disguises his tone, but Joel hopes he isn’t imagining the way his eyes crinkle. It’s silent for a moment, hesitation slowly creeping in to Etho’s movements as the beeps falter. “If- if you’re ever in the area again, I’d love to know what you thought of the books. If you wanted, of course.”
Joel feels his cheeks flush slightly, all of his usual boisterous attitude fading away in favor of being honest. “Yeah, yeah I’d like that.” The scanning continues, but the silence surrounding it no longer feels awkward.
Zed’s voice shatters the silence, Joel’s watch lighting up at the same time his ear piece crackles. “Riot I’m going to need you back on the streets now, we’ve got Wormhole sightings in the Upper West.” Joel sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.
Grabbing the bag quickly, Joel snaps his fingers into a finger gun. “Duty calls, unfortunately. Maybe I’ll be back here, but I wouldn’t count on it.” The words are filled to the brim with his normal sass, all the confidence of Riot flooding back to him as he prepares to tackle the rest of his shift.
Etho scoffs, picking up on the bit immediately. “Mhm, sure. If you come back covered in slime again though, I’ll make you mop it up yourself. Famous superhero or not.”
As Joel leaves the store, bag of books fastened securely on his left wrist, he glances back at the door briefly. He frowns, then shakes his head and starts off across the city.
The smart choice would be to not go back. To put Etho and his dry wit, mysterious personality, and love of comics completely out of his mind for good. Nothing good can come of him making a friend as Riot, or the underlying interest he has in being more than friends.
But who is he kidding?
Joel already knows he’s going back on his very next shift. Because he has to get one over on Etho next time, as revenge for him rendering Joel speechless not once, but twice.
And no other reasons, none at all. Nothing to do with his elevated heart rate, or flushed cheeks, or his need to know more about Etho. Nothing to do with that at all.