Chapter Text
The device was supposed to be an auto-adjusting speaker, analyzing and amplifying the aspects that made the listener most uncomfortable. An ambiance maker with built-in distortion and just enough static to make the average hero’s hair stand on end. Instead, it sputtered out what could only be described as a wet cough followed by a wheeze that sounded uncomfortably like someone deflating a balloon.
Silence followed. Deafening. Then-
“What,” Black Hat hissed, voice sharpening itself like a blade unsheathing, “was that supposed to be?”
Dr. Flug didn’t look up. He hunched deeper into his lab coat, clutching his clipboard like a shield. “It- It was j-just a minor glitch! T-Totally fixable! Si-since you’re so in-intimidating, s-sir, it must’ve… given up on m-making you sc-scared! Ehehe…” he trailed off into a nervous laugh that quickly died a lonely, heavily judged death.
Demencia, perched on the remains of a piano that had been broken earlier that week, snorted. “It sounded like a raccoon choking on a kazoo.”
“Thank you, D-Demencia,” Flug muttered, before slumping in on himself.
Black Hat’s shadow stretched toward him across the cold concrete- long, jagged, and bristling with contempt. “You’ve been… underperforming, Doctor.”
“I haven’t- I’ve been-” Flug straightened and fumbled for an explanation, but the words scattered like marbles on hardwood.
“You haven’t? Are you calling me a liar?” Black Hat growled.
“No- no, sir! I’m not- of-of course not!” He tried to reclaim his proverbial footing, but failed, as per usual when it came to holding his own against Black Hat. Even when it came to things as simple as an explanation.
Flug hadn’t slept enough for weeks, and it was starting to show- worse, it was starting to matter. His hands shook. His notes were sloppy. Even his stutter, usually manageable, had returned with a vengeance.
“Underperforming and stammering,” Black Hat continued, his expression flitting between a sadistic grin and a displeased frown. “I can only assume you’re trying to test my patience. If so, your unusually bold strategy is succeeding.”
Flug wrangled his tongue back into his control and gave a strangled, barely held together, “No, s-s-sir,” before backing away.
Black Hat prowled after him for a step or two, then paused. Something flickered across his face- something unreadable- and he turned away with a dismissive wave of clawed fingers. The speaker system was thrown with whatever powers Black Hat held to the scientist’s feet.
“Fix it. Or I’ll find someone else who can.”
With that, Flug was taken apart and rearranged in his lab, his failed invention falling onto his head moments later.
—------—
Hours later, forgotten by both his colleagues, Flug remained in his lab.
The room hummed with half-finished prototypes and contained the scent of burnt circuitry from the half-destroyed ones. The failed speaker system laid disassembled on the workbench beside an untouched cup of coffee. His goggles sat crooked on his bagged nose, dark smudges blooming on the bag beneath his eyes. He didn’t remember when he last blinked.
He dropped his pen. It bounced off the table and rolled under a cabinet. Flug didn’t bother retrieving it. He rested his forehead on the cool surface of the desk and exhaled, long and slow.
“Stupid… sh-shouldn’t be this hard,” he mumbled. “Used to be… used to be faster. Better.”
His body ached, but his mind refused to quiet. He thought of his lab.
He wasn’t safe here. He never really was, not with Black Hat’s looming standards and Demencia’s intrusions and the quiet fear that one wrong move would land him in a punishment of his own making. All he could do at the moment was press his head into his desk and try to force his mental gears to turn. But they wouldn’t, gunked up with burnout and exhaustion. But he had to, or else Black Hat would do… something horrible to him, but then… but then…
But…
Flug wasn’t sure when he fell asleep- only that the harsh fluorescent light of the lab had faded into something warm and golden. The sharp smell of oil and ozone was gone, replaced by soft perfume and something sweet, like freshly candied almonds. And the silence was… beautiful. Not the tense, waiting silence of his lab, welcoming him to beg Lady Luck for his next experiment to work. It was a peaceful hush, a silence so loud that he couldn’t even hear himself breathe.
With an inhale, Flug opened his eyes.
He stood at the edge of a grand ballroom, the ceilings impossibly high, the glass chandeliers glittering like stars. Marble stretched beneath his feet, black and gold with sweeping swirls that seemed to shimmer as they caught the light. The air felt warm. Safe. Almost reverent.
Dozens of figures in elegant attire turned to face him, but his hands were steady. His goggles and bag were gone, and no one seemed to mind. He wore a sharp, tailored suit, black and gold, and people clapped when he took his first involuntary step forward. Clapped. They looked at him like he belonged there.
“Doctor Flug!” someone called from the crowd, voice bright and full of joy. “Brilliant work on the Black Hat Organization’s Hero-Vaporizer!”
Another chimed in, “A mind like yours comes but once in a generation.”
He blinked.
As he walked further onto the glittering floor, similar compliments followed. Not one person critiqued him, not even those behind his back.
And then-
A figure at the center of the room turned, and the crowd parted around him like a tide.
Black Hat.
But not as Flug knew him.
This version wore a tailored coat with velvet lapels and golden cufflinks. His hat was crisp, angled just so, his fanged grin softer around the edges. No sneer. No contempt. Just a cool, proud smile that made Flug’s chest tighten. What?
Black Hat extended a hand, gloved fingers open and waiting.
Flug stared. He felt exposed without his bag and goggles. Doubt set in, as the kind-looking man in front of him still held a near exact visage as his boss. Though his boss never looked so kind.
“Well done, Doctor,” Black Hat said, voice smooth and steady. “As always.”
Flug stepped forward like he was in a trance. His own clothes had changed, too- the gold of his suit shifting to matching red accents. His hands didn’t shake when he placed them into Black Hat’s. The contact was warm, grounding. Real.
“You’ve outdone yourself,” Black Hat continued. “Without you, the organization would be nothing. Thank you.”
That- that was what broke him.
Flug’s breath caught, and he looked away quickly, embarrassed by the sting in his eyes. Black Hat’s hand gave his own a light squeeze- gentle, not punishing. The gentle bite of his claws felt nice against the back of his hand.
“Are you okay, Doctor?” the dream-version asked.
“I… y-yeah,” Flug breathed, barely able to speak. “I think I just- tonight I wasn’t expecting… this.”
“Well, expect more of it,” Black Hat said with a chuckle. “You’ve earned it.”
Somewhere behind them, music began to play. Something orchestral- classical in nature- rich and slow, the kind of music that made his shoulders loosen and his fears drip away. The crowd started to dance, and Black Hat leaned in slightly.
“Care for a waltz?”
Flug paused, blinking. “I- I don’t know how.”
“You’ll pick it up. You always do.”
He was led onto the floor without any more protest, swept up into something graceful and easy. He moved without thought, as if he’d done it a hundred times before. Black Hat’s hand stayed steady at his back. They spun beneath crystal light, and for the first time in his memory, Flug wasn’t calculating anything. He wasn’t bracing for pain. He wasn’t rehearsing what to say next.
He was simply there.
Seen. Heard. Safe.
And happy.
—------—
He woke with a start, cheek pressed to the table, the imprint of a bolt digging into his skin through his bag.
The lab was dark. His coffee had grown a coat.
Flug sat up slowly, fingers brushing over his goggles. His goggles were back on. The familiar smell of metal stung his nose.
For a moment, he didn’t move. Just breathed. Shallow. Quiet. Letting the reality of the lab reattach to him like a second skin he didn’t ask to wear.
And then- without thought- a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
Just a flicker. And then the edges of his lips tugged themselves back down, shocked.
He didn’t remember the last time he smiled without meaning to.
“...Huh.”
He hated how much he missed the dream.