Chapter Text
Sunlight bloomed over the city of Metroville. A familiar golden beam peeked through skyscrapers and infrastructure. Rays of light poured onto dark city pavement.
Mornings in Metroville would normally be peaceful, most of the time anyway— even for city standards— which was perfect for Simon. However, these past few days have taken a temporary shift: Event organizers and Enda Mode collaborated to reintroduce Supers Appreciation Day after it was denounced for unknown reasons.
Simon showed respect to those involved. He longed to see the national holiday back and celebrated, so it wasn’t a bother— at first, at least.
For the past few days and nights leading up to, an ungodly amount of noise was being emitted downtown. Days spent organizing for the upcoming event made sense. Still, after hours of construction, Simon’s moral decency deteriorated. He could only disregard so much noise.
Many citizens around said construction became sleepless. So much so that even the heaviest of sleepers twisted and turned on their beds in an effort to block out each clank, beep, and yell emitted downtown. Likewise, Simon rose from his bed like a kid on the first day of school. His head rang like school bells.
To wake up from a loud commotion outside your apartment (especially for days) wasn't exactly ideal for Simon. Sleep and routine were a property of success, after all.
Simon stuck to this motto like glue.
Routinely, Simon would lazily hop off his bed and sip on a warm coffee on his balcony before he got ready for work. Occasionally, he would secretly eavesdrop on his neighbors across from him. Even if this action was distasteful, it wasn’t Simon's fault that they could be heard from across the street roaring at each other about who that girl at the bar was; he just happened to hear. That sort of quiet was ideal.
Until now, at least.
His routine was shattered once again. The second he awoke, trumpets and other instruments occupied his ears. ‘Who’s playing music this early? It hasn’t been a minute since I… is it louder this time?’
Simon took a look out his window, eyes tired and wide. ‘Is that a whole orchestra??’ A large band marched down the street like a military drill. There were already a handful of people on the streets as well.
Understandably, the lawyer was about to lose his mind when the warmth of sunlight that came from his window consumed him— almost as if the universe gave him a sign of hope. Then it hit. A little hopeful (and irritated), Simon stretched his sore arms and checked his phone; Today was Supers Appreciation Day.
The time read 7:06 AM. On his phone read over 20 notifications from the Lawsuit League group chat, which Simon was fortunately, unfortunately, a part of.
Today 06:32
Lucius Best: Y’know what day it is GOOODDDDMORNING
Bob Parr: Wakey wakey guys!
Lucius Best: I have never seen you willingly use the term wakey wakey… I know someone took your phone. Are you with Jackson again?
Bob Parr: Nope, I just wanted to say something different for once
Jackson Hart: That’s surprising
Bob Parr: Wow look who’s awake! Can you wake up Simon, maybe head to his house and break in??
Lucius Best: Or we can do the next best thing
Bob Parr: Which is?
…The rest of the following texts are spam.
Tiredly, Simon scrolled through the abundance of texts. At first, their texts were just spam for the poor dude to wake up, but very quickly, their discussions spanned from partying to drinking to picking up women, to… law?
Despite that last part, it became clear everyone was ready to party and celebrate, hell, even Simon’s neighbors were up and loud— having heard laughter and excitement burst through the thin walls of his residence.
Was it mass hysteria? Or because they were hours away from seeing a large parade with their favorite superheroes— Maybe that was a stupid question— But perhaps it was both. Simon pondered this thought. He yawned, ‘I should probably answer them…’
Now 07:15
Jackson Hart: Nah, nah, nah, ‘cause what do you mean they’re gonna sue me again?? What did I do this time??? Simon better wake up before Mr. You-Just-Gave-Me-Radiation-Poisoning gets all up in my face!
Simon Paladino: Good morning
Bob Parr: NO WAY IT ACTUALLY WORKED
Jackson Hart: SIMON PLEASE YOU NEED TO HELP ME AGAIN
Lucius Best: GET OUTTA BED YOU GOTTA…
…
A second hadn't passed when the three friends decided to blow up Simon's phone, urging him to get down to the NSA building.
“Okay– okay, I’ll go-” Simon spoke to his phone like they could hear him, rushing almost excitedly to get ready for the day ahead.
What they did not tell Simon, however, was that some people (and by “people” I mean at least three dozen), thought it was a good idea to “camp” around the NSA building in hopes of getting an early look at the supers. This caused Simon a lot of trouble, having to push and shove himself through the crowds like a sheep in a herd of wolves— but at last, he made it just in time.
—
Supers Appreciation Day was an annual holiday loved by supers and civilians alike. There was a playful atmosphere that always dispersed, even after the parade ended. Vibrant colors would paint the night in sparks, which would mark the end of the celebration.
Before its ousting, new and experienced supers often used this day as an opportunity to gain fame and recognition from crowds. Some interacted with their fans, additionally showcasing their power and talent: Frozone skated around and made snowballs for children, Hypershock and other flying supers took to the blue skies, showing off their speed and agility. Others just simply took in the love.
Cool air contrasted with the welcoming sun whilst Gazerbeam stood on a black motorcade. Confetti and ribbons danced in the air as he waved to the crowd; cheers and whistles surrounded left and right in awe and acclaim. Gazerbeam felt like he was on top of the world, completely glad to have this day back.
Gifts and plushies were being tossed into his motorcade, one of which was a rose that was thrown from a fair brunette. With a close call, Gazerbeam caught the rose just in time.
She hid her face in amazement. Gazerbeam smiled, “Thank you!” he yelled.
There was something about her that caught Simon’s attention. Yes, she was pretty, but her image was almost engraved in his mind, even after he had lost her in the sea of people. Almost as if he— WHOOOOSH!! Gazerbeams mesmerized state was inevitably interrupted by Gamma Jack, who held a stack of printed photos.
Zooming past Gazerbeam, the blonde swiftly landed himself on an unoccupied seat— an armful of papers (photos?) slipped from his hands. Taken aback, Gazerbeam quickly grabbed papers that slipped away from Gamma Jack’s hold, unfortunately dropping the rose.
“Whoa– don’t drop these everywhere! What even are the–se…” his mind paused as the other man spoke, “Sorry, Specs!” Gamma Jack chuckled. “Let me crash here first, yeah?” He coolly said, wiping off sweat with one hand.
Gazerbeam inspected some photos Gamma Jack dropped, almost releasing a laugh. He couldn’t believe what he saw— Each acrylic photo depicted different poses of Handsome Jack, who modeled charmingly; the bottom right corner was signed gracefully. “Is this you?” He roughly let out, holding back a wheeze.
He answered defensively, “Hey, hey, hey, hey- Don’t make fun of it.” Gamma Jack stood upright as he held a shameless expression. “I got my photographs professionally done!”
Gamma Jack pointed at himself like a lion; to say it was “professionally done” definitely wasn’t an understatement, especially considering the type of person he was. Though Gazerbeam was unsurprised, he still laughed with an amazed expression.
Like a rose, a wave of red flushed over Gamma Jack's face, “Could you stop laughing?! Specs, look around. This isn’t very professional! Do you know how many people are looking at us right now?! We are literally surrounded by dames and—!” Laughter from Gazerbeam drowned out the blonde’s extremely loud and earnest monologue; he completely became out of breath.
“Only if you give me one also,” Gazerbem teased, holding out the glossy photo like a cat toy. Tears formed around his eyes; they were definitely getting weird looks from nearby supers by now, especially from Stormicide, who happened to be on the motorcade in front of them. She kept looking over her shoulder.
“Hearing you try to talk in a non-monotonous tone is kind of nerve-racking…”
Gamma Jack watched the dying super catch his breath, trying to compose himself after laughing for what felt like an hour. He bit his tongue in embarrassment. “I worked hard for these, don’t forget that!” After a while, however, he shamelessly shook the feeling off. He did plan to give a photo to Gazerbeam.
The other man started to feel a little remorseful, “I... I did not mean it like that— sorry if that was a little..” He looked up at Gamma Jack, who extended a hand, holding out a photo. Taking it, Gazerbeam questioned, “What’s this?”
“Turn it around, Viewpoint.”
Viewpoint? Ouch, did he really need to mock him like that? ‘How petty, Viewpoint was a good name! In my opinion, anyway…’ It was the way Gamma Jack said Viewpoint that made Gazerbeam want to wipe the blonde's memory: prideful and dumbfounded, said with purpose, like to get back at his embarrassing teasing. …Eh, maybe he deserved it.
Turning the photo around, Gazerbeam became visibly nonplussed. The brain stopped to a halt. Unsure whether to laugh, hide away in shyness, or feel flattered— had the overthinking kick in yet? ‘The rest of the photos certainly did not have...’
The photo was suddenly taken away from an unmoving Gazerbeam, who gained back his ability to think. “I almost forgot,” Gamma Jack reached into his suit for a black marker, swiftly signing the corner. He tucked it back into Gazerbeam’s arms.
Seeing how the visor-wearing man was still unmoving, he cleared his throat, “I ran outta time, okay? Just appreciate my beauty!”
Gazerbeam shook his head and moved frantically, “Then what’s with the kissmark on the corner???” He said, pointing and tapping at a glossy red lipstick print, and then down to Gamma Jack's signature, smudging the newly drawn ink a little. “And the heart next to your signature??”
“Well, aren’t you my adoring fan?”
“Respectfully, what is that supposed to mean??”
Gamma Jack held the photos up to his mouth, obviously smiling. Their world spun, ‘Your beauty?’ ‘Did he get the hint?’ Certainly, there was a better time and place for giving a photo like this, but out in the open? Seriously? Perhaps Gamma Jack’s purpose of pulling a tease like this was to toy with Gazerbeam a little.
A soft stare and intentful eyes “stared” back at each other in warm sunlight, forgetting that the parade was still in progress. Confetti was still in the air, citizens still screamed and cheered, supers showed off, and the person driving Gazerbeam throughout the procession had started to wonder what was going on behind him.
He adjusted his black leather hat, eyes still focused on the road. “Sir, is everything alright back there?”
Words slow, Gazerbeam looked at his driver. “Yeah, we’re fine...” his fingers rubbed the edges of the photo in comfort.
“Oh, that’s right. How long have I been here?” Gazerbeam looked at Gamma Jack, who held out his wrist in front of himself as if he wore a watch. “I’ll catch you later— after the parade maybe? I can’t keep the ladies hanging.” He lifted himself off the motorcade and flew out into the air.
Gazerbeam watched him fly off— Gamma Jack blew him a kiss in return.
“Huh?”
He blanked out. ‘What did he just do just now?’ Gazerbeam stood there, legs aching and daring to give out. Why did he suddenly get a pit in his stomach? Why were his arms heavy as well? And then it hit him. In his arms, he still carried quite a lot of the acrylic photos that Gamma Jack almost dropped when he came to him. ‘Shit!’
Yelling out to him, “Wait, you forgot your–!”
But by the time Gazerbeam looked back, he was long gone, lost in the confetti-filled wind.