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The routine was simple.
Quite often Grian would patrol alone. It was easy, in the sense that he could go whenever he wanted and wherever he wanted, without any previous plans. He did enjoy working alone sometimes. It was refreshing, not feeling like he had to wait for confirmation before proceeding.
It was not easy in the sense that he would have to rely on the news on the radio and his surroundings to figure out where the problems were. Many crimes happened in the shadows, and many crime-stopping-operations happened quietly, too, so he couldn’t always just follow the police or something. Being able to listen in on police broadcasts and possibly even the criminals’ own broadcasts if they happened to catch the right frequency certainly made things easier, but that required Cub, and Cub was not always available.
They tended to go for bigger cases when Cub was available. He liked keeping a list of vacant apartments and other possible basecamp spots all over the city, mapping out places they could set base in for the night. Grian would sneak in through the window (it turned out the security for apartments somewhat high up wasn’t that good – it wasn’t like anyone was supposed to get to those windows from the outside) and open the doors so Cub could get in with his big briefcase full of whatever tech he needed to spy on transmissions around the area. The range was limited, which made things a little inconvenient, but moving locations made it much harder for them to be tracked.
Unfortunately, when Grian was by himself, the most convenient way of finding crimes to stop was by shadowing Hotguy.
And Grian hated Hotguy. He’d created his whole vigilante persona in mockery of the famous hero.
Sometimes he felt stupid for it. Hotguy did important work – stopping crime and protecting civilians was no easy feat and Hotguy did undeniably excel at his job. That didn’t mean he wasn’t unbearably obnoxious and morally questionable, though. Grian could not understand how someone could be so dedicated to doing the right thing just to leave behind such messes. It was like Hotguy thought his actions didn’t have consequences, just because he was the city’s most beloved hero.
On top of all that, Hotguy didn’t seem to really mind Grian much. Grian kind of wished he did. While Hotguy not actively trying to shake him off his tail made his job much easier, it also meant Hotguy never shied away from striking up a conversation, and if there was something more annoying than Hotguy’s careless attitude, it was actually having to talk to the man. He was overly friendly yet somehow devious. Grian always felt on the edge around him, like Hotguy could just suddenly decide he no longer wanted to see Grian around.
Grian was glad today was one of the days he would be accompanied by Cub over the comms. He didn’t feel like trailing Hotguy or tracking down police patrols in the hopes he could maybe catch a case. He’d already dealt with enough frustrating customers at work – the last thing he needed right now was having to deal with a hero who was full of himself. He held onto the railing as he raced down the stairs, letting his hand slide along the old wood, excited to get out on patrol. He felt like letting off some steam.
He brushed past his and Cub’s downstairs neighbor as the man was messing with the keys to his apartment, briefly greeting him out of politeness.
Grian didn’t really like their neighbor either. The man, Scar was his name, seemed like an alright guy in general, but he was just too positive. Too chatty. Too excited to talk to someone who was basically a stranger. Never ending small talk was exhausting.
Cub got along with him just fine, they’d even gone stargazing on the roof a few times with Cub’s telescope, but Grian just didn’t get it. His vibes-based opinion wasn’t going to stop Cub from hanging out with Scar every now and then – this wasn’t middle school. Cub called things like these “Grian problems” – Grian didn’t really like people, and people didn’t really like Grian. He was glad Cub had a friend, though. His quieter nature didn’t always bless him with those.
Grian basically burst out of the doors of the building, nearly making a beeline for the hidden spot he would usually use to change into his costume. It was always good to take a few turns and detours, just in case.
There was nothing that could beat the sense of freedom that would flow through Grian’s body and mind once he got his costume on. He stretched his arms and legs, making sure every piece of his armor was in place properly before spreading his wings and taking off to the sky.
“There are patrols around the area,” came Cub’s steady voice through the comm, less staticky than Grian was used to hearing. It got worse the further away he got from Cub and things rarely happened near the same corners they had picked for the night’s basecamp. This time they had improvised a little and decided to settle into an abandoned factory building that had been waiting for demolition for years now. It seemed like a good spot for hiding – most parts of the building were not safe enough to walk in and Grian had checked out the building in advance to find a safe route. “Any sight of Hotguy?”
“Negative,” Grian mumbled into the comm. He looked around a little. The rooftop gave him a good view of both the areas around him as well as the ground. It was nearly suspicious Hotguy wasn’t around – whenever something that required more than one police patrol, Hotguy tended to be around. He needed to perform his tricks where people would see him, even if his presence wasn’t necessary, of course, Grian thought sourly.
“Boo.”
Grian nearly jumped. His wings certainly did, jerking almost violently, an involuntary reaction to being caught off guard. Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Hotguy spun into his view with a twirl that looked a lot like a dance move of some kind, smooth and precise. Grian deflated a little, his hopes of being able to find and handle a case on his own, in a way much better than Hotguy’s style, flushed down the drain in seconds.
“What do you want?” Grian asked, putting on his spiky attitude he used when dealing with Hotguy. He could hear Cub’s sigh over the still-open connection. At least someone understood his disdain for the hero.
Hotguy hummed, walking past Grian. He placed each step right in front of the other, moving like he was walking a tightrope, teal and orange shoes alternating, before dramatically twisting around at the end to face Grian. “Can’t a hero keep an eye on his city? Though I suppose you wouldn’t know what it’s like to be a hero.” Hotguy spoke with a light tone, lilting voice, almost playful. “Cuteguy,” he added, just to make it even more personal.
Grian gritted his teeth, glad Hotguy couldn’t see his face under his mask. He had a feeling that if Hotguy knew what kind of faces Grian was always making at him, they wouldn’t be getting along half as well as Hotguy was making them to.
“If you did your job well, then maybe I wouldn’t know,” Grian shrugged, trying to brush off his unease. He didn’t like it when people managed to sneak up on him. He couldn’t risk anyone realizing he didn’t work alone. Hotguy knew he hated being surprised. What a bastard of a hero.
Hotguy snorted. “You think rather highly of yourself.”
“This city deserves better,” Grian countered.
“And that’s you?” Hotguy questioned further. There was a hint of amusement in his tone that Grian really didn’t like.
He opened his mouth to say something, but he didn’t really know what to say. He was not necessarily better. He knew that he wasn't, which probably already made him better than Hotguy, Grian thought. Hotguy seemed so blinded by his ego that Grian wouldn’t be surprised if he soon couldn’t tell right from wrong. His techniques were questionable, and he had zero eye for damage control, instead seeming to opt for the “money can fix it” when it came to things like property damage.
“That’s what I thought,” Hotguy continued, taking Grian’s silence for an answer. He seemed pleased with himself, and Grian rolled his eyes behind his mask. “You can be impressive sometimes, though.”
Grian tilted his head. He could never predict whether Hotguy was going to make fun of him or say something nice. And even with the nice option, there was always a chance he was just being sarcastic.
“That tracking tech of yours,” Hotguy answered without Grian having to ask. A very Hotguy-typical trait. “Seems pretty nifty, even if I say so myself. You’re always on my tail.”
Feathers puffing up in alarm, Grian felt the hair at the back of his neck stand up. Was Hotguy tricking him, or did he not know in reality there was no real tracking tech? It was all Cub listening in on police and radio broadcasts, keeping an eye on social media posts and hacking into security cameras.
“Unless you've punched an air tag into me, I don’t know how you do it,” the hero continued, pacing before Grian like he was deep in thought. He did sound genuinely thoughtful, but Grian knew better than to trust a single word that left his mouth. “You work alone, right?”
It was like a bucketful of ice water had been dumped down Grian’s back. He swallowed before forcing out a firm, “Yes.”
Hotguy didn’t seem to dwell on his tone or change in demeanor for a second. Grian had never been more glad that his face was hidden. “That’s what I thought,” he replied, leaning his chin on his hand. The snarkiness from before was gone, almost like he had gotten a confirmation for his suspicion and no longer had to try to rile Grian up in the hopes that he would accidentally give out information. “The rule of two only applies to Sith after all…” Hotguy hummed. “And I doubt anyone like you could work in a team, anyway.”
Unnecessarily personal blows were definitely one of Hotguy’s weapons of choice. He seemed good at reading people despite masks. Grian hated that Hotguy was way more often in the right than in the wrong.
“Well, anyway,” Hotguy spoke in a more cheerful tone. The sudden switch-up made Grian feel wary. “I hope you’re not too attached to your tech because we’ve finally managed to trace back your signals!” Hotguy clapped his hands, and Grian felt the color drain out of his face. “Relocating your tech every time sounds like a hassle, but it sure made it harder to figure all this out.”
“No,” Grian replied in disbelief. It sounded like Hotguy didn’t know about Cub, but if they knew where the signal was coming from, it’d only be a matter of time now.
Hotguy ignored his words. Any further words got stuck in Grian’s throat.
“Since you think this city needs help,” Hotguy hummed, walking over to the edge of the rooftop. He looked down where the factory building stood. “Why don’t we help them with this way overdue demolition?”
Grian could barely hear his own scream over the sound of the explosion.