Chapter Text
Before you read the chapter, it is highly recommended that you first listen to the following song in full:
‘The Villain I Appear to Be (feat. Molly Pease)’ by Connor Spiotto
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It was well into the night when the gala began. The event was expectedly loud, well-advertised, obviously well-attended. A new exhibit had just opened at this privately-owned art museum, and it was being showcased in its entirety today, the centerpiece sitting behind a glass casing, surrounded by guards. The floor was filled to the brim with CEOs, celebrities, investors and businessmen, groups of security huddled into corners and even a couple of pro-heroes walking about, only the best for an event of this caliber.
Grian sat, perched on the edge of a concrete support beam, one of many jutting out the wall to hold up the glass dome which laid over the venue, acting as its roof. It was raining that night, the sound pattering lightly on the glass, on the brink of being drowned out by the idle chatter which laid down below. Glasses could be heard, clinking faintly in the harsh yellow light, toasts made by party guests, along with the faintest bit of music filling in all and any gaps of silence. The intense lighting climbed up the walls, fading into gray with more distance, eventually settling into black, leaving Grian completely covered by shadow. That’s good, no one should be able to see him up here, and it gave a lovely vantage point over everything he needed to see.
The centerpiece of the gala, an hourglass carved out of diamond.
Grian stared at it from above, a small switch resting in his left hand. He knew exactly why they were there. The plan was for Grian to keep watch, get people looking away from the hourglass with a couple of smoke bombs, and then while everyone was scrambling to see, Jimmy and Joel would jump in to steal it. It was the perfect plan to get some attention for the Bad Boys. Admittedly, they didn’t care about the jewel; it would probably be really nice to have around, expensive and lavish in a way that would make them feel smug about having it, but that wasn’t the goal here. The goal was to get people talking, get people alive and aware of the Bad Boys, they’ve been gaining popularity steadily over the last year, they’ve stolen a bit or two from some rich schmuck, they’ve donated thousands of baked goods to homeless shelters, but that wasn’t enough, they needed to get big; get real.
And tonight was the night they would do it. Grian wasn’t big on attention, if he was honest. He was satisfied with where they stood currently, but a little intimidation, a little bit of a buzz to their names; it wouldn’t hurt to gain a little bit more of a reputation; it felt exciting in a way.
Grian shifted forward, eyes peering across each corner of the room. If all went according to plan, in a few moments Joel would give him the signal, then Grian would set off the smoke traps; no one would be able to see through it, except him and his teammates, with their high-tech biker-stylized helmets of course. The party was going along steady, waiters and waitresses just beginning to come out with champagne, and Grian immediately grinned because that was perfect. With so many people drunk out of their minds, nobody would be able to see the Bad Boys until they were already gone, one of their signature baggys full of bread slices left in place of the diamond.
Leaving behind small bags of bread was frankly ridiculous, however Joel claimed it was to psyche them out, confuse them while also sending the message “hey! The Bad Boys were here, and you didn’t even notice!” and Grian nor Jimmy could even argue with that because the idea was so stupid when proposed that they really had to do it.
The communicator within his helmet clicked faintly, indicating someone’s microphone turning on.
“Grian!” Jimmy’s voice hushed into his ear.
Grian was quick to respond, holding a hand up to click on the small button just next to his visor. “What is it? Do you need me to set off the smoke bombs?”
“No! No no no-” Jimmy said back, frantically, “er- well, not yet-”
“Well, what is it then?”
Another click, Joel. “Grian, we just need your input on something very important; say yes or no.”
“What am I saying yes or no to?”
“Just say one!” Joel insisted.
Grian paused, glancing down at the crowd below him. There was a small group accumulating in the far corner from him. Grian narrowed his eyes, leaning forward to get a better look. They all seemed to be surrounding a man, and Grian couldn’t make out the details but there seemed to be a lot of laughing and a lot of handshaking. He glanced away. Just another rich guy making sleazy deals, he guessed.
“Grian, do you have an answer?” Joel’s question sat in the air.
He opened his mouth, hesitantly.
“Yes?”
A beat of silence.
“Ok uh-” Jimmy sighed, and Grian swore he could hear Joel laughing faintly. “Right, I am... really sorry with what’s about to happen.”
And then, before Grian could respond, the roof shattered.
It was as if everything suddenly slowed. Twinkling glass spilled from the sky, hitting the protective visor of Grian’s helmet, and he blinked in stunned astonishment. The wind rushed in, he could feel it thinly through his leather jacket and gloves; water spat harshly onto the edges of his vision, lightly blurring the glass covering his face; and everything seemed to glimmer in and out of existence, briefly highlighted by the light below before shifting back into transparency.
And then it was fast again. The loud growl of an engine, the wind whipping wildly, rain rushing down beside everything. And the only thing Grian could register at that moment was an intense feeling of shock, followed by waves of dread. Because, framed by glass shards and debris, falling rapidly into the scene, were Grian’s two teammates riding on one of their motorcycles.
He could feel a mix of anxiety and rage rushing to his head as he frantically flipped the switch over and over again, the music down below stopping abruptly as voices raise in shock and alarm, screaming at the combination of the roof shattering and smoke startlingly filling the room. Joel and Jimmy yelled from their place on the motorcycle, just as panicked about the situation for some reason, and then promptly disappeared into the smoke clouds.
All Grian could do was watch.
What were they thinking?!
He wanted to yell at them so badly, but the mission could still be saved, they just had to get the diamond, tell Grian, and then get out, he could reprimand them as soon as they were back under the bridge; frustrating as it was, there was no time to be angry like this.
He raised a hand to the top of his visor where a small array of buttons sat just above where the glass meets metal, blending into the helmet. He clicked one, waiting for half a second while the helmet processed the command. A tab overwhelmed the screen, showing him the room in heat vision. Grian then glanced down to reassess the situation. Hundreds of warm bodies pushed against each other, screaming and yelping as people ran into each other, shoved each other to the ground, and desperately attempted to navigate to the exit. It was complete and utter chaos, and the worse parts of Grian had him forcing down a laugh as well as he could. He swallowed on nothing, shutting his eyes before blinking them back open.
With the vision he could see Joel and Jimmy scrambling. They had almost made it to the diamond, but were warded off by a couple of heroes, and with the way Jimmy stuttered in movement every time Joel hit one of them, Grian was pretty sure he could deduce who.
Scarlet and someone else; they were missing a third member, so the person with her had to be either Emerald or Azure. Scarlet lurched forward, hitting Joel with something that created sparks, likely her signature sword, and Joel jumped back, avoiding her as best as he could. Scarlet was a harrowing fighter, and the media loved to go on about how she was crazy, manic against enemies. That wasn’t the issue though; the real problem was her power. Commonly referred to as Phantom-Pain, Scarlet had the ability to transfer all the pain she felt to another person for an unknown amount of time. Between Joel’s avoidance and Jimmy’s staggard movements, it was pretty obvious who her current target was.
Grian quietly groaned to himself. He was going to have to help them, wasn’t he?
“Roadrunner here,” he said, hand to communication device. “I’m coming down there.”
He then stood up, preparing himself. Energy buzzed up his arms as he felt himself growing stronger, an exhilarating pulse of adrenaline slipping into his veins. Green wings seemed to sprout out of thin air, just behind his back, prepped and ready to fly as he bent down to stretch his arms and legs. It was a little difficult with the support beam’s surface being at an angle. He shook out his arms and adjusted his helmet, making sure it would remain firmly on his head, then without much of a second thought, he stepped off the concrete beam and fell into the chaos.
The first thing he could register was the blaring alarm. It was loud before, but the intensity it sat at now, with him rapidly approaching the fight; it became horribly grating. Then it was followed by the screaming and shuffling of multiple people. He gently soared down, landing gracefully on his feet, head spinning around quickly to locate everyone. Civilians pushed past him, threatening to shove him down as he ran towards the fight.
In the distance he could hear pained grunting as metal clashed on metal, sparks flying through the fog, lighting up the silhouettes of Joel and Scarlet.
Grian turned his heat vision back on, letting it hang transparently over his normal vision. Joel seemed to be holding Scarlet back with his own sword. It laid out horizontally, one hand gripping the handle, the blade digging into the gloved palm of the other. Scarlet pushed against it, her sword sliding against his harshly before pulling away and jumping back, the pedestal holding the diamond behind her.
Then on the other side of the pedestal, Jimmy and what Grian could then deduce as Azure linger at a distance, seemingly caught in a standstill. Azure stood in front of the diamond, swinging his gun casually with his finger. He leaned forward, taunting, and Jimmy seemed to tense up before pointing back at him, aggressively. Grian brushed off the interaction; Azure was likely flirting with him again.
Instead, Grian focused back on Scarlet. Her and Joel were clashing again, the latter raising to defend himself but still restraining himself from hitting her, couldn’t risk hurting their teammate, not while Jimmy was negotiating with Azure. Grian ran across the side lines, circling around the fight while using the smoke as a cover. He then took out a gun of his own, sliding it smoothly out of its holster on his belt. His hands moved quickly to roll some darts out of their compartments, shoving them into the back end of the gun.
It was all about timing now; Grian had to make sure the darts actually hit her and not the bright red cloak she brandished. Scarlet pushed Joel back with a loud grunt, stepping back and swinging her sword before attempting to jab at him. Joel narrowly dodged, ducking out of the way and leaving Scarlet briefly staggering, cloak swinging to hang on the side away from Grian.
Yeah, it was a good time.
Quiet shots rang out from the fog, two darts sticking into Scarlet’s arms and much more following in quick succession. A frustrated sound escaped her as she backtracked, grabbing at the darts and smashing them with her boot.
“What is this- what are these?!” She demanded, voice warped through the wolf mask on her face.
“Numbing agent.” Grian stepped out the smoke; wings raised high behind him. “Might take a while to kick in but looks like the effect you’ve forced onto my friend won’t be working anymore.”
His cheeks hurt from grinning, smugness slipping into his voice. Scarlet breathed heavily, and he could just see her scowling behind that mask; he wanted to laugh so badly. Joel stood upright, understanding the implications. Scarlet had no pain to process, that leaves nothing to transfer.
Scarlet turned her attention fully to him then, bolting towards him with her sword ready. He yelped, barely missed by shooting up skyward. This wasn’t his fight anyway. Grian used his advantage to land on top of the diamond’s casing, convinced that his teammates would be able to distract the heroes on their own now. He slid off the glass, turning his attention to the lock keeping it in place. Heat vision still transparently on; he glanced around at the two fights surrounding him. Jimmy had finally engaged Azure, easily dodging the blue hero’s bullets thanks to his danger sense, Canary Call, while Joel was finally able to attack Scarlet, no need to hold back.
Grian turned back to fiddle with the lock, a picking stick ready for situations like these. He shifted the stick around the keyhole, trying to feel his way through opening it. This certainly wasn’t Grian’s first time picking a lock, and it definitely wouldn’t be his last. He leaned forward, metal pick sliding between his gloves as he adjusted it, waiting just a while before perking up at a satisfying click, the lock clattering to the ground. Grian smiled, standing back up to lift the glass casing off.
His hands rested on both sides, firmly, and he gently pulled.
The case did not budge.
Grian’s brows furrowed.
Cautiously, he glanced towards the opposite end of the casing. There was no way, right?
Sure enough, another lock sat patiently on the other side. Grian gritted his teeth. He then turned warily to the glass itself. Maybe he could...
Grian lifted an arm over his head, gathering as much strength as he could, made doubled with his power, and brought his fist down to smash it.
The glass didn’t even crack.
Bullet-proof, he should’ve figured.
Grian inhaled sharply. Great, now he was going to have bruises on his hand.
He rubbed his hand as he looked back down to the second lock, huffing while sliding the picking tool out of its pocket.
“Roadrunner,” Jimmy’s voice filled his helmet, the grunting in the distance amplified. “Have you got the lock yet?”
“Not yet,” Grian responded back, quickly. “Theres a second one, and I don’t even know if it stops there.”
“Do you need help?”
“No, I think you should be focusing on your boyfriend.” Grian’s smug smile bleeding into his voice.
Jimmy squawked back in embarrassment, simultaneously yelping, probably avoiding one of Azure’s bullets. “I’ll have you know it is completely one-sided; I am not the one initiating these things!”
“Sure dude.”
“It's true! I would never fraternize with the enemy!”
Grian snickered as he worked the second lock. His ears perked as he heard a shot ring out just too close to him. He barely dodged, flailing to the left as the bullet indented itself into the floor just right of him. His hands immediately flew back to the communication device.
“Doomsayer!” He scolded; Jimmy’s codename came to him naturally.
“Sorry!”
Grian scowled as he turned back to them, Jimmy haggling Azure down, fighting over the gun, heat signatures almost merging together from where Grian stood.
He almost turned back, but then something else caught his eye.
In the distance, just a little way off from where they were fighting, a flash of heat seemed to dance across the floor. It was fickle and flowy, wispy in a sense, gradually moving across the carpet and ever slowly expanding. Grian felt himself straighten. The heat glided over the fabric flooring, rising higher and higher, smoke growing thicker, and dread filled Grian’s gut as he finally processed what it was.
Fire.
And suddenly, the mission didn’t matter anymore.
Tension seized Grian’s shoulders as he moved to frantically turn his mic on.
“Fire!” He gasped. “Theres a fire, just behind Doomsayer, it’s getting worse and fast.”
He watched as Jimmy stiffened, forgetting the gun and opting to shove Azure back, hand flying to the side of his helmet. “What?!”
“You both have to get out now!” Grian stood up fully, running to warn Scarlet; Jimmy could tell Azure himself, but Scarlet wouldn’t let Joel close enough to even hear him.
He ran towards them through the smoke, Joel once again on the defensive, Scarlet predictably not letting him get a word out. Grian felt his wings flare out, before they sharply swung down, lifting him up and propelling himself through the air. Scarlet shrieked in alarm as Grian suddenly hurdled onto her back. She thrashed violently, desperately trying to get him off, and Grian was just barely holding on, gripping onto her cloak.
“Scarlet!” He fought back to hold on against her frantic stumbling. “There’s- no time for this!”
She continued, swinging around in circles, Joel already running past them to investigate the rest of the room, or any surrounding closets.
“Can you calm down for one minute?!” Grian gritted out, and he could just faintly hear buzzing from her mask, Azure trying to contact her.
“Well I don’t know! Maybe get off my-“
“Look- I needed to get your attention! Listen to your teammate for a second!”
Scarlet froze, hand lifting to her mask. She paused for a short minute, during which Grian let go and slid off her back. She then turned to him, rigged and hands already stashing her sword away.
“The civilians…” she stammered, horrified, “we have to check for any stragglers.”
Grian nodded, leaving her to look around the premises. He was a vigilante before a thief, and while everyone should’ve evacuated during the initial alarms, some people were really stupid. Usually news reporters or otherwise those looking to get some videos of the action. His eyes locked onto a corner of the room, and just as he suspected, heat signatures, people waiting behind the smoke. He ran towards them.
Two journalists it looked like, young, maybe college-aged, obviously freelance. They froze as soon as they saw him, one held a microphone and the other a brand-new camera, they seemed to have been sneaking around the fight previously, with their camera already on and the microphone prepped.
“It’s one of the Bad Boys-” the reporter muttered in astonishment to the camera.
“You all need to leave!” He said, nearly slamming into the wall next to them, catching himself. “There’s a fire! Tell everyone- if you see anyone else you need to get them out!”
The cameraman looked hesitant, while the journalist looked unphased. “Are you saying the Bad Boys start fires now?” She questioned, and Grian looked at her incredulously.
“What?! Of course not!” He exclaimed, offended. “The smoke bombs were never meant to start a fire!”
“Then how did the fire start?”
Grian paused, stuttering and stammering. How did the fire start? He felt a weight land on his shoulders, guilt dripping down his veins before landing awkwardly into his gut. Was this all his fault? He then blinked to himself.
No.
No!
His smoke bombs didn’t contain anything fire inducing- he purposefully made them harmless, he did not endanger civilians! At least not overtly, not purposefully. He didn’t start this fire, he didn’t-
Grian inhaled sharply. “I do apologize, but this is not the time for an interview.”
The reporter began to protest while he turned to the cameraman. “Can you make sure you both get out of here safely?”
The kid looked stunned, but then nodded quickly. “Yes, sir.”
“Good.” Grian absentmindedly patted their shoulder in approval before running back into the fog. For the next several moments of his life, Grian searched the museum’s corners, closets, backrooms, bathrooms, and more, keeping an eye out for any left-over journalists or shareholders who had the bright idea to stay hidden in the building for whatever reason. He found a few, older men and women complaining as he shoved them out of thin hallways into the foyer, staff and security guards yelling at him accusingly while he clenched his hands around themselves, leather gloves the only thing stopping him from scratching himself, and tried to reason with them to leave the building.
He stumbled back into the main room with the exhibit, continuing his search. The other Bad Boys must’ve gotten out by now, and there wasn’t a hero in sight. Still, his consciousness couldn’t let him leave without checking, whether it be a Bad Boy or a hero or some random person, he could not leave until he knew for certain everyone was out of the building.
The sprinklers had gone off by now, water vapor filling the air, mixing with the smoke and making it even harder to breathe. Grian wasn’t too worried, his helmet should filter everything out, but it didn’t bode well for any potential civilians still in the gallery. Thankfully the fire was dissipating, smoke clearing slowly but surely.
It looked like everyone was out, but just to be sure though he focused more on his thermal tracker, couldn’t risk missing anyone.
The room grew quiet in a way, the only thing heard being the pattering of rain, sprinklers, and Grian’s own footsteps. He glanced around, cautiously. Sitting down for a break grew tempting, but he couldn’t do that now; he just needed to complete one more lap around the gallery, and then he’d be free to fly back to Bad Boys Bridge, it’ll be easy.
And still, despite his better judgment, Grian could feel himself relaxing, arms falling loosely to his sides and pace faltering.
That was… weird.
He forced his legs to move forward, ignoring the dull ache that came from the effort. His feet staggered, and Grian just barely caught himself. He swallowed, trying to keep his bearings.
Inhaling and exhaling became an exhausting endeavor, and he couldn’t help but go at it haltingly, struggling for reasons he could not comprehend. Why were his arms so heavy? It was like there was a weight on his back, rope tied to his wrists forcing him to drag something with him but he couldn’t tell what it was. He could hear his own labored breathing through his mask, since when did he get so loud? Grian narrowed his eyes, trying to adjust his eyes. What was he seeing?
There was someone approaching him.
He couldn’t make it out, but he could see their figure, their signature traveling through the smoke.
Grian opened his mouth.
He paused, hesitating.
What was he doing?
Was he going to say something?
What was he going to say?
Grian blinked to himself. He felt… sluggish. His legs went slack beneath him. Why was he feeling so tired all of a sudden? A pain in his knees; Grian didn’t even register lurching forward. Damp carpet thudded against his cheek, cushioning the fall, and he was all too surprised to find himself laid out onto the floor.
Why was he on the floor?
Grian tried to lift his arm, only to find it already reaching aimlessly. To what, he didn’t know.
His teeth felt hard in his mouth, gnashing together. He was supposed to be doing something. He had a job to do!
Why couldn’t he get up?
His eyes fluttered, threatening to close. Maybe that would be… okay actually. He was really tired.
Muted footsteps, Grian acknowledged them distantly.
Yeah, he just needed a nap, a little nap, something to sleep off the effect that was currently on him.
His body being lifted, the breath knocked out of him as he was hauled over a shoulder.
His body felt warm. Really warm. But also uncomfortable. He shifted, faintly trying to get out of the person’s hold.
Since when was he picked up?
Grian didn’t get to answer these questions. No, Grian didn’t get to know anything, because before he could ask, before he could squirm, before he could fly off and shove away this unknown figure, before Grian could do anything, all he could will himself to do was nothing.
He was so tired.
Grian tensed one last time, yawning, before letting himself go limp, drowsiness curling at the edges of his eyes. Then, without thinking, he closed them and let himself fall under.
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Grian gasped awake, eyes wide and filled with adrenaline. He then, just as quickly, closed them, his ears ringing, a dull pain spreading just behind his eyelids. The light in the room was way too bright. Grian let one of his lids crack open, slowly so as to not provoke the slight throb beating at the back of his head.
He was sitting in a chair in front of a metal table, he could recognize that. His wrists were bound together behind his back by something firm that he couldn’t quite distinguish, not yet. It was fiber, dimly he registered it to be some sort of rope. His powers were obviously deactivated, strength mild and wings nowhere to be found, and he didn’t know if he had enough energy to pull it out again.
Grian blinked and then lifted his head, taking in his surroundings. It was a small gray room, black windows to his left and a solid gray door staring at him from over and across the table. He looked down, noticing a chair stationed opposite of him. It seemed like he was trapped within an interrogation room. Grian’s mouth felt dry, a wave of bile threatening to rise out of his throat. He inhaled deeply.
Okay, so he was obviously captured by the police. It was likely that they were working with the Hero Agency, and they captured him for an interrogation of some sort. Considering his history with the Agency, he could very well guess what. It was only a matter of time before they found him again, it seemed even after all these years, they were still looking for him. Grian sighed, shakily.
That’s okay! He could handle this, he’s escaped them before, he could do it again! He didn’t know why his heart was beating so fast because he was fine, this wasn’t even his first run-in with them, he’s talked to the Hero Agency a million times since then, he’s dealt with this problem before. Except, during all those previous conversations, they didn’t know what he was, who he was. They had no idea their little runaway was hiding just below their noses; sure they knew him but they didn’t know who Roadrunner was. They didn’t know the dastardly vigilante or the true identity of the man who hid underneath the mask; they didn’t know it was him robbing billionaires and saving civilians. He’d kept his power well hidden from the media up until this point, there was no way they had already figured it out.
Unless-
Grian was suddenly keenly aware of how bare his face felt.
They took away his helmet.
Grian’s stomach churned as he leaned forward, resting his head on the table, sucking air through his teeth. A lingering sense of dread buzzed beneath his skin, irritating all his senses, before festering low in his gut. He swallowed, shoving down stomach acid.
Before he could ruminate any further though, he heard it. Noises in the distance. A quiet click followed by two louder ones, repeating in a pattern that seemed to get closer and closer. Footsteps.
Grian warily lifted his head, eying the door, waiting patiently for what seemed like his doom. His nerves were on fire, and he had to breathe slowly through his mouth in order to calm down. Couldn’t risk looking any more vulnerable, not in this situation.
The footsteps stopped, and he heard jingling, probably keys, before seeing the door unlock and the knob begin to turn. He exhaled shakily. The door creaked open, and Grian couldn’t meet the eyes of the man on the other side. Though, something he could meet was the man’s hands, which seemed to be holding a wooden cane in one hand, and a bottle of water with some basic pills in the other.
The man set down the water and pill bottle, pulled out the remaining chair, and promptly collapsed in it, resting his cane against the table. He quietly groaned while rubbing his head, using the table as support, and Grian finally got a good look of who he was dealing with.
The first thing he noticed was the enumerate amount of scars on the guy’s face, one bridged across his nose, leaving a bump, while another slid up his eye, a bunch of others nicking the edges of his jaw and some disappearing down his neck; judging by his hands, Grian would not be surprised if he happened to have scars all over his body. He seemed around Grian’s age, if not a little bit older, and if that cane meant anything then it was possible Grian had an advantage, seeing this guy probably had some leg problems. It was a dirty tactic but also Grian was kidnapped so morality wasn’t his biggest concern right now.
The man sighed before sitting up to open the pill bottle, and Grian could then see he was wearing a brown coat and button up shirt, along with a black tie; pretty standard get-up for law enforcement. The man shook two pills into his hand and moved to open the water, twisting the cap until hearing a small snap. He then glanced up at Grian, making him stiffen
The man seemed to smile at that. “It’s just painkillers.” He explained, hand extended so Grian could see.
“Oh.” Grian softly supplied, and he was about to ask if they were for him but then the man promptly popped them into his own mouth and swallowed them with a swig of water. Grian blinked at him.
“Oh-kay!” The man leaned forward, still smiling, hands intertwined. “It is very nice to meet you, Roadrunner! Now I’m sure you’re wondering why you’re here-“
“Yeah actually, where is here-“
“Ah-bup-bup-bup!” The man cut him off. “Well get to that, don’t you worry, but first you’ve gotta hear me out here, alright?”
Grian’s eyes narrowed. “Okay?”
“Great, wonderful, amazing- okay! So you’re probably wondering why you are here-“
“I am-“
“See, I knew you would! And the answer to that question is a very simple one,” the man continued, “I need help with a case.”
He paused, still smiling at Grian, almost waiting for him.
Grian cleared his throat. “A case?”
“That’s right! A case, because as you can probably tell,” the man lifted a hand to refer to his outfit. “I am a detective! And I need some special superpowered help to get the information I want, and you-”
The man sputtered a bit and Grian held back a snicker.
“You are the key to that- you’re the person I’ve been looking for to help me with this! The superpowered muscle I need.”
Grian waited.
“Is that it?” He asked, the man nodded, satisfied, sitting contently from across the table.
Grian almost laughed from disbelief.
There was no way that was it, right? Grian was quite literally kidnapped by this guy, and the man himself was claiming it was just to get him to agree to working on a case?? Surely not, no there had to be more to the story, people don’t just casually kidnap another person, not for a job offer- er well maybe police officers did for vigilantes- but that does not make the current situation any more normal! Of course, there was no true way to decline, what with his helmet stashed away somewhere and the police probably finding all sorts of records relating to his secret identity, but this guy seemed to not really know what he was doing, and Grian could very well use that.
“What exactly is the case?” He asked, cautiously, “like, what is it about?”
“Oh well, y’know, I can’t tell you that…” the man meandered. “Not yet at least, you just need to accept the offer and then the rest of the case is all yours!”
Grian blinked at him again. What was this guy’s deal???
“Ok, right.” Grian closed his eyes. “Let me just get this straight- you want me, the guy you just kidnapped, to help you with a case?”
“Yes, that is correct.”
“And you think I’m going to agree with little-to-no explanation?”
The detective nodded, eagerly. Grian sighed. This guy could not be serious.
“Look, I’m sorry, Detective…” Grian trailed off.
“Goodtimes. Scar Goodtimes.” The man held out a hand, and Grian stared at it.
He glanced back up, expression unimpressed as if to say “really?” and Scar hesitated.
“Oh, wait, yeah, I tied your hands,” Scar pulled his hand away.
“Ok yeah,” Grian continued. “I’m sorry Detective Goodtimes but you expect me to agree with practically nothing to go off of? No explanation whatsoever?”
“Well, there is an explanation but you just have to agree to get to it-“
“No no,” it was Grian’s turn to cut him off. “I know, you just explained that to me, what I’m talking about is the fact that you haven’t even told me a lick of anything actually valuable or retainable; where I am or why I’m actually here; you can’t truly expect me to agree under conditions like this. I mean, what do you want with me, cause that cannot be it. What do you, a member of law enforcement, want with me? What does the Government, or the police, or the Hero Agency, actually want out of me, because help with a case you can’t even elaborate on, that surely- it doesn’t make sense.”
Scar then stared at him, processing the words, and Grian felt himself grow tense. He didn’t think what he was asking was a big request, but this was a police officer, and he was very capable of spinning it any other way in front of the judge if he wanted to. Grian inhaled sharply as the detective’s face broke out into a smile.
And then, much to Grian’s torment, Scar started to laugh.
And this laugh was painful, absolutely delighted in its breathiness, a wheeze that made Grian’s face flush uncomfortably. Scar gripped onto the table as he chuckled, shaking it slightly as he leaned over and against it, and Grian suddenly regretted saying something because it was obvious this guy was in no way taking him seriously.
“What is it?” Grian said, smiling nervously. “I don’t think I said anything that funny-“
“Sorry, sorry, yeah, no…” Scar still giggled a bit, attempting to calm down, grinning widely. “You’re just- you are horribly mistaken.”
In what way? Grian wanted to ask, but he didn’t know if he wanted the answer.
Scar gasped out a breath, still laughing just a bit before recomposing himself and sitting up straight to look at Grian again, grinning widely.
“I probably should’ve started with this huh?” He asked, clearly not expecting an answer. Grian swallowed, his throat aching with dryness.
“I’m not working with the Hero Agency,” Scar said, and Grian could’ve expected that, the police and the Agency worked separately, but still he sat patiently listening to Scar continue.
“No, I’m not working with them at all!” He sounded smug almost, and Grian quietly wished he would get to the point.
“You see,” the ticking of the clock, the faint blare of the air conditioning, the oppressive silence of an interrogation room, everything seemed to tunnel at this one point, centering itself around this one statement; the statement that would determine whether Grian agreed to this job and changed everything forever or if he declined, and let things remain the same as they’ve always been. He didn’t know it yet, but this choice might just become the most important choice Grian’s ever made in in his life. And it all started here, at this moment, between two people in a small gray room, somewhere obscure and limitless, cut off and hidden from the rest of the world like most things of this nature.
Everything waited for Detective Scar Goodtimes with bated breath.
“I’m working to tear the Hero Agency down.”
───── ⋆⋅ ⋅⋆ ─────
Now that you have finished the chapter, it is highly recommended that you listen to the following song as ending credits:
‘Feeling Good’ by Micheal Bublé