Chapter Text
"Dude, did you see the news?"
Kyle asked, though his thoughts were somewhere else—he tapped his pencil on the scrapped sheet of paper, forming a familiar rhythm. He always had this habit, being their lyricist and the mastermind behind every song really.
"What?" Zam asked back, their voice loud and clear even from across the room. However, they didn't seem too interested, eyes half-lidded, fingers trained to scroll on Twitter, and chewing pink bubblegum, leaning on the garage wall.
Reddoons was busying himself on the bass. His fingers, long and slender, perked on the strings, tapping an impatient rhythm to match with Kyle's. As usually, he wore his shades (of course he did. He didn't go anywhere without them) and used a bucket as a feet lifter, sitting down and nodding to the rhythm and hardly paying that much attention.
"There was another vigilante fight last night," Kyle explained. He looked up with a tooth-wide, grin, his blue eyes flickering like diamonds. Despite being the oldest in the band—and the only one who's done with college—he still had the energy in him.
"Really?" Zam put down their phone for once, a brow arched. "Well, I didn't know that—what even happened?"
"Well, I heard it was due to a robbery at the local bank—y'know, typical stuff. But two groups of vigilantes arrived at the same time, resulting in them fighting each other than solving the major issue."
Zam scoffed, going back to their phone. "Sounds like a regular Tuesday to me. Do you know which groups it was?"
"I don't really know the groups, but I believe it was 'Virus' and 'Canvas' again," Kyle licked his lips as he tried to recall, his pencil tapping his chin. "Yeah, I believe that's it."
"Haven't they always hated each other since, like, forever?" Reddoons interjected, though he continued playing with his guitar. To be honest, the three were just wasting time now, waiting for the fourth member to finally arrive (they practiced in Kyle's garage, because he was the only one who owned a house among the four.)
"Yes, actually! Virus and Canvas had always disliked each other, being leaders of rival vigilante group." Zam, unlike the other two, was well informed on these, cultivated on the news (read: rumor and gossips on social media) and the history of these 'vigilantes'. If one asked them about a specific group, Zam would just start rumbling then and there and would not end until night time. Reddoons, conversely, was barely educated—but better than Kyle—just overhearing his friend's or stranger's opinions on the topics.
From what he could remember on the top of his head, Virus was an early vigilante, having the power of glitch manipulation—being able to operate technology and wrap reality slightly. However, the public opinion was crummy, with some even saying Virus was a straight up 'villain' than anything else due to the damage he caused. Even so, Virus went through with it and still appeared in public, wearing the familiar purple suit and black, void-like mask that concealed his own identity.
Canvas, in contrast, was well-liked from what Redd had heard. They wailed the power to create things—anything, really, as long as it was on paper. They alongside her ragtag team of two other vigilantes had captured the media and went mainstream not too long ago. Redd couldn't have one peaceful doom scrolling session without seeing one post about them or their team. She, wearing a mouth mask and those ironic glasses—orange and yellow spiraled like a kaleidoscope—was completely opposite of Virus's ruthless, egocentric persona. Maybe that's what started the fuel against them.
"Crazy how many people are invested in this," Redd admitted. His legs ached, so he switched legs, grunting softly. "Not to mention the money they get from this. Might as well become a vigilante myself."
Zam always chuckled at Red's dry jokes, so this time was no different. Rolling their eyes, they began to speak.
"C'mon, Redd, not everything's about money. I'm sure you'll pay off your debts sooner or later." They were trying to poke underneath his skin, which did work slightly, making Redd puff a breath out. Zam then continued. "Besides, I'm sure they're not doing it for clout or anything."
"Why risk your life for a city if it isn't for money or clout then?" Redd verbally expressed his opinions. "Nobody just goes and fight robbers or others just for the sake of it."
"Oh, I don't know. Maybe it's for the protection of the city?" Zam rebutted, wobbling their head back and forth, like a grandfather clock.
Redd scoffed, "That's why we have the police. And they're just doing more harm fighting each other than anything else."
"Speaking of which," Kyle added to his statement before, finally looking up from the scraps of paper. "The bank is completely destroyed now. Can't even deposit my checks." He sighed, eyes drippy.
"Adding to my previous comment," he muttered underneath his breath. "They say they're doing it for the city, yet the bank gets destroyed like five million times a week because of them."
Zam clicked their tongue. People like Zam, Redd had learned, thrived on chaos—maybe not their own, but just any type of chaos, especially when it came with destruction and extra drama for the week—the completely opposite of Reddoons, who just wanted to get through life without getting in trouble (well, much trouble anyways). Nonetheless, he watched as Zam picked on their shirt hem, opening their mouth to speak.
"Yeah, I guess so, but," a mischievous smile came onto his friend's face, wide and clever, a typical PrinceZam smile. "If you asked me, I prefer Canvas better than Virus, actually—"
"Terrible take. Virus is definitely much more better."
Redd thinned his lips as the familiar, arrogant voice boomed. It seemed like their fourth member had finally showed up. However, not in the way one would except.
Ashswagg—or Ash, as many called him—appeared immediately afterwards, though on foot when he'd usually show up in his flashy, purple car, bragging proudly about it to the three. He wore a t-shirt and snickers—not designers though, and his hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail (Zam once told him to cut it; Ash refused, claiming it was too 'manly' to do so). His purple eyes showed none of the pride or ego, only a cloud of tiredness and sleep-derivation—as a fellow college student, Redd found it to be real, but not 'Ashswagg coded'. His lips formed a tight frown as he walked in.
"Oh hey, Ash!" Kyle greeted, whether feigning oblivious or genuine. "Was wondering if you were coming to today's practice or not."
"Yeah, you weren't at school today as well," Zam twirled their hair, smirking. "Can't have our lead drummer and second vocalist looking like hell now, can we?" There were hints of teasing within their voice—as Zam was the lead singer.
"Glad to be of such importance to be graced by your presence," Redd said flatly. His shoulders rose sharply, though he tried to play it off.
Ash rolled his eyes, groaning at those he so called 'friends', facepalming. He strolled to his station, the matching purple drums, next to Redd's station. As he took a seat, Reddoons adjusted himself again, moving a bit away from Ash. Sneaking a glance at the man, Redd saw those vague black circles underneath Ash's eyes—huh strange, had those became stronger or what?
"Sorry about being late, just woke up tired and didn't feel so well," Ash naturally took his drumming sticks. He gently smacked them on the low tom, forming a deep, vague rumbling. The whole garage felt as if it was shaking, until Ash slammed them on the crash—a blaring BOOM filled the room. Ah, there was the Ashswagg they knew and liked.
"It's fine," Redd waved dismissively at the noise. "It's not much different than a normal, grumpy Ash we all know."
He felt a sharp pain on his knee. Vaguely wincing, he noticed Ash's lethal glare as he rubbed his knee. Even so, Reddoons smiled, a slow and light-hearted smirk.
"Y'know, you can stay home if you didn't feel that good," Kyle commented, playing the 'dad' friend all over again—it was worse because he was the oldest too.
Ash shook his head, "Nah, I was up anyways. Squiddo felt the same, so I went over to her house for a bit. I'm checking up on her again afterwards."
Ah, yes Squiddo. Ashswagg's girlfriend for a couple of months now—if Reddoons wasn't mistaken, the girl with the big, round glasses. He often saw her on the college campus, even having a couple of classes, but he hadn't really spoken to her yet. If she was anything Ash said (which were lots of things. The man could go on forever about his 'beloved girlfriend'), then she must be a great person anyways. Ash did say she lived somewhat close, which explained the walking.
"Aw, isn't that sweet," Zam's lashes bashed, but it wasn't mocking. It was just genuine. "Wish I had someone like that to take care of me while I'm sick."
"What about Pangi?" Redd reminded.
Zam's whole mood changed. They looked up at the ceiling, the singular light-bulb, probably until their eyes burned. "He's busy with his friends again," they sighed solemnly. "It's been a while, actually. We've been taking a break."
While Ash had a girlfriend, Zam painfully took a liking on Pangi, otherwise known as the biggest flirt (or playboy, if you wanted to be mean) on the school campus—second to Zam themselves, though. The situation was just confusing, and Reddoon's, like always, was not caught up.
"Yeah, good luck with that," Ash scoffed out. "I'm telling you: you deserve way better than that guy."
Zam's shoulders slumped. "You're probably right. But the way he looks at me, and smiles, and laughs, is just so…"
They sighed again—this time more dreamy and delusional than before.
"Yeah, still not buying it."
"Hey, I say if Zam thinks they have a chance, then they should go for it!" Kyle, forever the optimist of the group, chimed in, probably having no idea what or whom they were talking about. Perks of being the oldest, Redd supposed.
"Yes! Thank you, Kyle, for actually having faith in me." Zam, despite the cheerfulness in their voice, cast a stink at Ash, who merely rolled his eyes.
"That's how mine and her relationship first started anyways," Kyle added. "And now we're still together." The ring on his knuckles shined in the light, gold and still clean.
Redd remained quiet on this subject. There was no need for him to interject. He was the only one without any drama, without a girlfriend, and definitely better off than whatever Zam and Pangi had. He perked at his bass, a rumble shocking through his whole body. School and money came first, then maybe love—but that's after stability. But those who wished to be in a relationship was happy in one, or yearning for one.
Redd took one final look at Ash, whose shining purple eyes remained half-lidded, ready to debunk the other two on whatever topic came next, always clear in his believes and words.
He looked away quickly, because that hollow, uncomfortable feeling came back, and he didn't need it to destroy whatever he had left—whatever that was anyways. He stayed silent, just observing, for now.
"Anyways," Zam said after a heated argument whether they and Pangi were actually a good pair or not. "I was wondering….what's your stands on the whole Vigilante thing, Ash? Redd and I were actually just arguing about it before you came in, and didn't you say something about Virus."
It took a while for Ash to remember, but he was ready.
"Oh, nothing really, I was just talking about how Virus was clearly better than Canvas." He spoke with such confidence. Ash tapped the drumsticks on the crash again, the deep rumble coming back.
"Really?" Zam's brows perked up, and a bright, curious smile formed on their thin lips. "And why do you say that, huh?" Redd knew they were waiting for this. While Kyle knew almost to nothing about the situation and Redd not caring, they and Ash were the only ones vocal about it all, as always.
"Well, Virus actually has a plan for the city: to protect it," Ash explained, and Redd and Kyle exchanged glances, waiting until the conversation began to heat up and when they had to play peacekeepers, or fuel into the fire (that part's always fun, by the way). "While Canvas goes around with their little sidekicks doing nothing but picking a fight with the other Vigilantes."
Ash's voice became more forced, even booming through the hollow garage, in the last part. His face twisted into a hardened stoic expression, like a stone—an irritated stone maybe. The rumbling came louder and louder. Usually this meant an upcoming Ashswagg crash out, but they continued.
"Really? From what I've heard Virus has caused more destruction than Canvas has, actually," Zam pointed out. "Many people seem to dislike Virus more than Canvas, I've noticed. Why is that?" Even Redd couldn't tell if this was genuine ragebait or not anymore. Both seemed too intrigued for it to be.
"Virus is the og—O. G—I don't know what those people are talking about," Ash sighed, close to a scoff, annoyed nonetheless. "He's been here for a while now. Canvas is just a random person who just so randomly popped out of nowhere."
"You're saying that being an 'OG' is so much better than being new?"
"No, I'm saying—" Ash had to cut himself off; his voice had became stronger, powerful, like how it usually did whenever he had a strong opinion on something. "What I'm just is that it doesn't matter whether the public dislikes you or not. What matters is the way you go about it and your morals. Just appearing up and deeming yourself a 'vigilante' and having special 'powers' doesn't automatically make you a savior, or anything for that matter."
Right, those vigilantes all had special powers, those stereotypical superpowers if one thought about it enough. Deeply, Redd thanked God (loosely, he's not a Christian) for not giving him any superpowers, otherwise he'd had been wrapped around this messy, already sensitive topic across the whole city. Everyone had different, conflicting opinions, just like Zam and Ash now. Redd only hoped to become a millionaire after college and retire before 30.
"'The end justices the means,'" Ash finished his arguments with that quote. Redd noticed it from philosophy, some boring class he had to take for credits (he was more of an economics and statistics guy. Seeing the stock market go up could make him happy instantly).
"Uh, guys, love your deep conversations and all," Kyle started. "But I'm sure we should start practicing now, worrying about the opinions for after."
"Yeah, Kyle's been dying to show you guys his newest song idea anyways," Redd added. To be honest, he wanted to see what would happen if Kyle didn't interrupt—sometimes it lead to screaming and other times actual fists-fights. It would've been fun. Oh well, another day then.
"You were awfully prepared for that," Zam verbalized their last comments on the subject. Everyone was heading to position, with themselves in the front, right next to the microphone—Redd to the left with his bass wrapped around his shoulders, Kyle on the right with his guitar and the scrap paper, and Ash in the back, sitting down, lifting his drumsticks.
"Eh, Squiddo and I have this discussion a lot. It's nothing really." Ash shrugged it off casually.
Right Squiddo again. Red bit his lips and was glad that his shades masked his face to the others. He preferred not to dwell on it anyways, not wanting the hollow feeling back while practicing. He could drink it off this night if it doesn't go away.
With Zam counting down to zero, the garage was lit up with music from every side, clogging up any thoughts, emotions, or genuine words. And Redd played his part on the bass, harsh and violent, his best yet.
— — —
It was one in the morning when his doorbell rang.
Reddoons rubbed his eyes, burned with the sight of books stacked upon other books. He was in the kitchen, sitting at the table, back and bent forward like a shrimp. His cheek burned from laying on the pages, his red hair messy and unkempt, folding to one side. His head arched, as if painfully splitting into two. It was dark, but the dark, glowing sky told it all, glittering on the other side of the window.
He put on his shades and tried opening his phone. Nothing, only the black screen. Probably dead while he was driving to sleep. He tried his computer, fingers on top of the touchpad. Nothing. He pressed the space button. Nothing, just the black screen following him. Huh strange, probably also died.
Redd's doorbell rang again. This time, he forced himself up with wobbling, jelly legs.
"I'm coming', I'm comin'," he said with slurred words, as if he's drunk, but Reddoons hadn't drunken anything this night. Yet.
He tried turning on the lights. When the familiar switching noise happened, the kitchen remained dark and silent, only tinnitus in his ears growing louder. He tried again, flipping it on and off, on and off, on and off. Nothing. Okay, did the power gone off or what? Was his landlord on the other side of his door, tryna tell him this? Reddoons frowned, still somewhat asleep. He didn't like this, not at all.
The person at the door became impatient, banging instead of ringing the bell. Reddoons jumped up.
"Geez, ever heard of patience?" He grumbled out. "I'm coming."
And he stuck to his words. He forced himself to continue walking, while somewhat being alerted—it wasn't everyday someone knocked on your doors while having a power outage. He stood tall, hesitated as his fingers wrapped around the doorknob. He grumbled as another loud bang came outside.
"Woogie, I swear to god if this was one of your pranks again, I will—"
He didn't get to finish his sentence. He didn't get to finish before someone wrapped their hands over his mouth, muffling his words, and a hard, sharp object was pressed onto his stomach. He heard a finger wrapping itself on a trigger. It was a gun. A gun was pressed on his stomach.
"Where's your bathroom?" The gun-yielding stranger-robber asked. There was something about his voice, deep and broody, yet confidence sprinkled in every single word. The soft, yet sometimes strong, minor accent of each words all sounded perfect for a podcast host, not a depressing robber.
Reddoons must have taken a long time to reply, because he felt the gun pressing harder on his guts. "I'll say it again. Where. Is. Your. Bathroom."
"Uhhh, how about putting the gun down, y'know. If you want a guy to lend you a bathroom for use, I prefer not to be threatned by a—"
He hissed, and he heard a clicking. Whoever this dude was was teasing him, while breaking into his house and threatening him with a gun.
If in any other situation, Reddoons might have just continued going until his sad, debt-filled life ended this day, tonight, but this time, he actually valued his life. So he gave in, sucking in a breath.
"Okay, okay, it's the second door to the right." He sighed mentalyy in relief when he felt the gun far away from his guts. "But mind the—"
The stranger-robber-whatever guy discarded him there. Reddoons landed on the floor with a harsh thud, and the guy's soft, clicking footsteps echoed through the hallways.
Now Reddoons might have cowardly stepped down to save his life, but he was not going to let a robber (?) use his bathroom, walk through his hallways, and steal his belongings—especially not his money because he needed it more than anything else (hey, bills were high. Could you blame him?). And also, this whole situation was suspicious and confusing to begin with. Why only ask to use his bathroom while also robbing (read: trying to rob) Reddoons? Who the hell just do that? Not normal people, no.
So Reddoons, noticing how he was still in his house with his belongings, rose up, dusted himself, and began trailblazing behind.
He reached the bathroom—where the lights were on, flickering. So there wasn't a power outage, huh? This, however, just made things extra weird, and it definitely didn't explain why the power refused to work before.
Redd was not a dumbass. He never had been, never would be, and definitely not now. He inhaled sharply. He'd been warned of robbers and thieves when he moved to this side of the city, the 'criminal' and improvised side (guy needed a cheap place to rant, okay? Don't judge him yet!), but he'd never expected them to be this…weird? If he wanted to be more rude, than stupid would be a better term (nerds, even). Yet this guy, despite how odd, had a gun. Reddoons, on the other hand, didn't.
So Reddoons, like any other normal person in this situation would do, opened the door and used his strongest power: Charisma. With foolishness on the side.
"Hey, don't mind the mess. Wasn't expecting compan—"
His eyes darted to the mirror. This was definitely not any odinary robber.
Instead of a ski-mask, Redd was greeted with another different type of mask, a black one which seemed like a void, never ending. It was dirted and broken into fallen pieces, which revealed eyes.
Purple eyes, to be exact. The same shining dark purple eyes he'd spent ages staring into, trying to properly understand them.
The same ones that Ashswagg had.
He didn't have time to process anything before he was shoved on the wall—his wall—a hand wrapped around his throat, closing in. He gasped as those hands threatned his oxygen intake. But Redd could see those amethyst eyes clearly now, familiar as well, but this time violent and anger filled them.
"Say a word to anyone about this," the robber guy—no Ashswagg—no, the robber guy? gritted out, "and I'll have your throat ripped out."
The lights flickered, and Reddoons built the confidence to look at his robber—which was his friend as well—up and down.
He wore a suit, purple fluorite color suit with a blooming crimson rose in its pocket—a suit which would've looked so good but dirted and unbuttoned. Ash's face, although most covered in the mask, was also terribly beaten up, blood trickling from his mouth down his chin, his brows furrowed and those purple eyes glared at Redd, but he had already noticed something else: his white dressed shirt—the same crimson red splattered, painting in a gruesome way. Ash was injured, and many questions swarmed around Redd's head.
Just what the fuck was going on. What had happened. And why Ash was acting like this—wearing formal clothing for. Was there a party that Redd hadn't noticed or what? It wouldn't have surprised him if Ash picked a fight with a drunk student, or the other way around. And why did he come to his house, his apartment in lieu of Squiddo's—you know, Ash's girlfriends.
"Where's Squiddo?" Out of all the questions he could've asked, Redd asked this one immediately. He cursed his large mouth, blabbering on. "C-couldn't you go to her place instead of mine?"
Redd's chest tightened up. Every breath became swallow and unstable. His head hurt like hell. And a wave of uncomfortable heat reached his cheeks, turning them a rosy pink. No way, Reddoons scolded himself in his mind, got it together. Ash clearly trusted him enough to come to his apartment out of any place (instead of Squiddo's too). He swallowed those emotions—they were better off sealed anyways—trying to continue his facade, calm and collected.
Calm and collected. Calm and collected weren't Reddoons; calm and collected were Ashswagg now, who remained lethally quiet as he reached through Redd's bathroom drawers, but serendipity would not come. Ash groaned, loud and hints of masked pain.
"Hey, hands out of the skincare," Redd tried looking over—no use, since Ash was way taller than he was, almost a head taller. "I spend good money on that."
"I don't care about your crappy skincare, Redd," Ash finally graced him with his voice, rougher than usual, hoarse and on the point of collapsing. He definitely didn't come to hang out, have a few glass of drinks. "Where's your medicine cabinet."
Right, for his little stab wound or whatever wound. Redd repressed the wave of soft embarrassment—probably because he had forgotten about it—and gave what Ash needed.
"Up left cabinet," he said, "should be there."
Ash breathed out what seemed to be a muffled 'thanks', and Redd's heart was pounding horrendously quick in his chest. It seemed like he was the one injured, instead of Ashswagg. His ears might have been red at this point too. Curse him. Ash luckily found it and ripped the medicine bag into pieces, not wasting time.
"Here, I—I'll give you some privacy, buddy. You go ahead and patch yourself up right there. I'll just…..stay in the hallway."
Redd shut the door sight. His only source of light was the tiny crack at the bottom of the door. He tried to pretend everything was okay. Sure, Ashswagg may have broken into his house, drenched blood, wearing a famous suit and mask (still looking hella attractive even so.) and Redd was definitely not acting like himself right now.
Come on, it's just Ash. His friend—perhaps even best friend—since freshman year of college. There was definitely nothing wrong or suspicious about this. Usual day, having your friend get injured and break into your house to use the bathroom. This was totally normal to Redd, typical college student antics. And besides, Ash already had a girlfriend. Yeah, totally normal college student antics.
"So….that suit of yours…." Redd had no idea why he decided to continue talking—maybe the thickness of the silence became too much, or he succumbed to the heavy, painful burden-like feeling on his chest, or maybe both. Whatever it was, he despised it. "Must be pretty expensive. Going to a party or something?"
The rustling noise in the bathroom—what Redd assumed was Ash using the bandages—stopped. Huh, that's strange. Redd crossed his arms, leaning on the walls. He licked his lips before speaking.
"You didn't piss someone off that bad again, didn't you?" He wasn't sure what he was doing, just rumbling about. "'Cuz last time was already bad enough, no?"
In fact, Redd believed he had seen that suit and the mask, both oddly familiar, before. Ash hardly wore any fancy clothing, claimed it was too much of a hassle to put on, so it must have been a rare occasion.
Or Redd had merely seen it enough scrolling on apps, on the live news, and overheard in rumors or gossips. The man in a purple suit and black, void-like mask he wore to maintain his identity.
The man who was able to, according to eye-witness sources and rumors, control and manipulate technology. The vigilante named Virus.
Redd doubted it at first. It was probably just an extremely, super-duper, weird coincidence that Ash just had the same purple suit and black mask. The guy was just going to a cosplay party or whatever—though Halloween was last month—and decidedly dressed up as a vigilante rather than a princess or whatever people wore in cosplay parties.
But it didn't explain the bleeding, or the way Ash had been secretive, even breaking and threatening Reddoons in his own house. And many other things. So many.
It was one in the morning, and Ash was in his bathroom, patching himself up. And it was one in the morning when Reddoons had to contemplate on that fact that Ashswagg, his friend and band mate, may be a vigilante after all this time.
It felt like summer rather than late fall with the way Redd was sweating uncontrollably. The whole hallway spun around him, even in the night, as if a labyrinth, and Redd had just found the exit.
Sicked in the head, Redd knocked on the bathroom door.
"Hey, buddy, once you're done in there, we need to talk."
— — —
"Yeah, I admit it. I'm Virus."
It was two in the morning when Reddoons finally figured out that Ashswagg, his closest friend, was a vigilante.
Ash was no longer in that bloodied purple skin, now in the wash, wearing some shirt and pants Redd found in his closest. Unfortunately, due to Ash's taller stature, those didn't fit entirely right, but he paid no attention. The kettle began to smoke, whistling a high note; Ash poured the steaming water inside his mug, mixing it. The smell of herbals rushed through Redd's nose, causing him to wrinkle it. He always liked those herbal teas—claimed they were 'healthier' while Redd had seen him chug an energy drink after sleepless nights (he himself was more of a coffee guy).
Redd stared at his blank computer screen. His rough fingers rubbed his temples, trying to help his mind from splitting into two, or even more.
"Well," he sighed, closing his computer. He definitely wasn't finishing his schoolwork tonight, like he'd planned before. "That explains a lot."
It did explain a lot. How touchy Ash became whenever Vigilantes were brought up. The way he always seemed tired despite leaving early from events. How secretive Ash was sometimes, never showing up whenever Virus came on screen. It was all right there. Redd considered himself an observant person—you didn't come this far without anything—but this just happened to slip out of his mind.
Or maybe he didn't want to believe it. Whatever it was, Redd merely sucked in his cheeks, hollow and pale. His eyelids became heavy. Maybe it was all just a dream, and Redd had just drunk himself to sleep like the nights before. Soon, he'd wake up, and the nasty hangover would be waiting for him, with him crouched down over his toilet, and the smell of vomit all over. That would've been better than whatever this was.
"Really? That's it?" Ash furrowed his brows, slipping from his hot mug, like he hadn't been stabbed just an hour before. "No any other question?"
"What questions are there to ask, dude?" Redd sounded snappier than he wanted too, probably just tired. He stayed up way longer than 2:00 am before, thanks to his homework, but this time was different—this time was with Ashswagg, in his apartment, slipping on some crappy herbal tea, and dropping bomb shells after bomb shells. Just when Redd thought his life wouldn't be more complicated than it was already.
"Oh I dunno, maybe the usual 'damn, Ashswagg, who? What? When? Where? Why? And how?" His voice went up a pitch, mimicking a girl's, if a girl was secretly a vigilante. He opened the fridge, which only brought a frown on his face. "Damn, you got nothing but beer, wine, and leftover Chinese food," Ash grumbled out, not surprised. At least he took the Chinese food.
"You just listed all the questions words," Redd argued, shoulders slumping. "And get outta my wine and beer collection. Those costed a fortune."
"Never thought beer costed that much," Ash mumbled as he microwaved the leftovers. The humming sound only worsened Redd's headache, making his brows knit together. "Damn, bro, no wonder why you're broke."
Redd, although wearing his shades and would've thrown a snarky remark if he wasn't so out of it, shot him a nasty glare; though Ash only ignored it, too busy on his food.
The microwave gave one final beep! and Ash immediately took the food out. Licking his lips, he took the first bite, chewed and gagged.
"Dude, how long has this even been in your fridge?" Ash was always a picky eater—Redd had learned during their time together. "Tastes like dogshit than anything else."
"What do you mean, man?" The smell reached his nose, as if he wasn't overstimulated enough. "It's fine, only been there for, like, a couple of days."
"More like a couple of weeks," Ash, however, threw it in the trash. Redd groaned softly—should've just given it to him instead. "I'm ordering some actual, decent food." He pulled out his phone, and Redd sighed.
One thing felt off for Redd—how casual this whole situation was. Normally, people freaked out or even faint on the spot, demanded an explanation, et cetera. Redd would like to call himself a 'normal' guy with 'normal' friends and a 'normal' life, but not anymore, he supposed. Because has it turned out, his 'normal' friends weren't so normal anymore. Ash didn't cover anything up as well, just treated it as it was—something Redd could never figure out, a 'Ashswagg-thing'. To him, it felt uncanny, like he was seven again and in a sleep over instead of Ashswagg injuries and coming to him for help.
Speaking of which—
"Why."
Ash looked up from his phone, still hopelessly typing the closest pizza place's number. "Why what?"
"I mean," he sighed, chest heavy. "Why come to me, dude. Outta everyone."
Ash snickered, soft and quiet, his nostrils flaring up. "Okay, Redd, I think it's bedtime for you, because you're talking stupid right now."
"Dude—no, I'm not," he clarified. Redd rubbed his eyes, half-lidded and hard to see. "Ash, dude, out of anyone you could've picked to help you. You picked me."
"Well, who else would I pick?" His eyes narrowed in annoyance. Ash's phone call had reached voicemail. "Thought the pizza place was open twenty four-seven…"
"I dunno, Zam, Kyle, who is actually stable. Heck, even Squiddo?"
He raised his voice slightly before calming down. Right, Reddoons, panicking wasn't going to do anything. This time, though, he caught Ash, speechless, looking down on the floor, chest rising up and down in soft breathes. It felt like ages before Ash opened his mouth and spoke.
"I tried getting Squiddo," he admitted, and Redd's chest felt tangled up, like everything he'd worked so hard for, everything he'd squished down for, was rising up. "But she didn't pick up, and I knew you were probably in hell either at work or asleep. So—yeah. Besides, I didn't want her to be in danger because of me."
Ash added the last part with a hush whisper, his eyes hardened. Redd took a while to reply back.
"But you're willing to put my life in danger? Wow, man, I'm glad," he said, half-jesting, half-sarcastically.
Ash rolled his eyes dramatically. "I thought you were at work," he admitted, slumping his shoulders. "You're either working or doing schoolwork. Seriously, dude, take a break."
"I don't think advice from someone who lives a double-life as the city's most infamous vigilante is any good," Redd dryly commented. Despite how tired he was, the look on Ash's face was clearly worth it.
"Wow, fuck you too, should've never came," Ash muttered before clearing his voice. "And besides, I'm actually the city's most beloved and favorite vigilante. Check your facts before saying them."
"Yeah, the public would love to agree." Redd snorted, but before Ash could reply, he had another question. "Who else?"
Ash raised a brow, arching the another one in a confused matter. "What who else."
"Who else knows about…..this," Redd paused for a moment, licking his lips, chapped and dry ever since this situation. "And who else is in the vigilante money making company, or whatever you guys call yourselves." Ash shouldn't be the only one—there were many vigilantes in this large city, many with unique abilities, personalities, and much more. Redd had been glad to not be caught up in this tangled-up mess; key word: had.
"Well," Ash used his fingers to count. "Spoke, Parrot, Wemmbu, Flame and Mane, Roshambo,Derapchu, Jumper, Pentar, Yungy, MinuteTech, Leowook, heck, even Clownpierce—"
"Dude," Reddoons interrupted, "you realize you just named, like, a third of the students at our school, right?"
Ash thinned his lips then nodded. "Yeah, I know."
"Sooooooo, you also realize that a third of our friends are technically vigilantes, right buddy? Including you?"
"Yeah, pretty much."
Reddoons knew what his plan was. He was going to pack his bags, move out of the city and go somewhere as far as possible, transfer schools, and become a rich millionaire somewhere else than…whatever this hell hole was. It'd just be like his regular plan, minus the extra distraction and drama of vigilantes fighting everywhere. At this point, he was tired of it.
"And I'm the only one who doesn't know?" He asked, about to search up the earliest plane to the furthest reaches of the Earth, far away from this cursed city. "The only one who doesn't live a double life and doesn't have any special powers?"
"Well, Woogie isn't, and neither is Pangi," Ash admitted, though his voice dropped to a low whisper. "But I have my suspicions."
It gave him some relief that Woogie, one of his closest friends was on the same boat, but Pangi? Not so much. "Geez, dude, very appreciate this."
"Hey, with these new Vigilantes popping out of nowhere, I need an ally," Ash word's became bitter, purposelessly so. He looked at the ground, determination and wrath filling his eyes. He may as well pop a vein with how much force he was clenching his jaws with.
"Right, 'new Vigilantes' like Canvas and their little group, right?"
Redd knew he'd push a button with that statement, and he did.
"Don't. You. Even. Dare." Ash snapped back, his brows dropped, narrowing his eyes, bitting his lips. It was a scene too familiar to remember, when Ashswagg would have his famous crash out. "They're the reason why I got injuries in the first place! Those little good-for-nothing, job-robbing, troublemaking and—"
"Alright buddy, you can finish cursing out your evil nemesis sometime later, preferably in the morning." Redd checked the time. 3:20. "Shit. I got classes tomorrow."
"Just skip, or make a shitty reason" Ash suggested. "That's what I'm going to do. Those classes are easy as hell, anyways."
"Well, yeah, some of us aren't blessed to have super powers and born to protect the city," Redd said, sarcasm heavy in his tone. "Some of us are just barely getting through, working part time and exams to study for." He clicked his tongue, feigning an apologetic tone. "Sorry, man, just can't do."
"Right, right, you're one of those 'normies'," Ash rolled his eyes at the theatrical movements. "Just letting you know, getting stabbed isn't the worse that could happen."
"Don't even want to think about it. Imma actually dip now," Redd muffled a yawn. "Here you can sleep on the couch. There's extra blankets on the closet."
Ash raised a brow. "I can just walk back home, y'know."
Redd's posture, once relaxed, tensed up. His neck felt sniffed—looked like old age was getting to him, or something else. He knew Ash was capable of leaving. He was a Vigilante for heck's sake, more than capable.
(But deep down, Redd didn't want him to leave. Having Ash as company was good enough as it was—just having Ash around him was good enough.)
"Sorry, bud, like you said, getting stabbed isn't the worst that can happen. What if they come for you again, huh?"
Ash hated when Redd used his logic against him, like now. But without any arguments left, Ash lowered his head, defeated. Redd smirked, best part of his day right here.
"Besides, we still have things to talk about," Redd added. "Lots."
"Can't wait then," Ash grumbled, but deep down, Redd knew he cared as well.
Getting Ash some blankets and a pillow, Reddoons got himself ready for bed. This really did feel like he was seven again and in a sleepover, but only he was in his twenties and had finally experienced the hell called adulthood.
And now he'd explored more than adulthood, especially another hell called 'vigilantes', dragging him by the feet, as if this was his fate all along. But Reddoons wasn't an vigilante. He was just a college student who struggled to pay his rent, even working a part time job. He wasn't born with superpowers (thankfully), nor was he of high importance. He was just there. He was just Reddoons.
But that somehow made him a target. Just being Reddoons.
As he went to sleep, only one though appeared on his mind.
Just what the hell was doing to happen?