Chapter Text
"Interesting flyer, Neon."
Neon Vanguard’s blood went cold.
His mechanical legs seemed like they had lost all feeling, even if he couldn’t feel anything down there to begin with. He nearly lost balance on his rollerblades upon hearing the voice, and he repositioned his feet, hastily pulling a 180 on his skates. The speed at which he turned himself was too fast, and his wheels made a harsh, aggravating, high-pitched squeal as they scraped against the ground.
The flyers he had in one hand — a thick stack of papers — crumpled under his fingers with the death grip he had on them. His fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles threatened to rip right through his gloves. The big bold lettering on the page consisted of pleads for citizens to "WAKE UP!" and warnings of the "COLOR OUT OF SPACE," but the words eventually shrank into Neon Vanguard’s palm.
No one ever knew what time it was in the Ever Bright City. It could’ve been day, noon, afternoon, or night. It didn’t matter, though, because the sky always looked the same for them: dark with wispy clouds, thin enough for the neon lights from rooftops to penetrate through them and reflect the colors.
Neon Vanguard had been scattering flyers in the streets, in front of buildings, and on the sidewalk. They would fly out of his hands and dance in the wind as the gusts did the delivery for him — all he had to do was carry along the message. He had been speeding down roads with papers flying, up until now.
The rebel had just passed a patrol car parked along the sidewalk and stopped because he heard someone talking to him; the reason why he froze wasn’t because he was afraid of getting caught, but it was more so the person who said it to him. The neon light of the diner on Neon Vanguard’s left was irritatingly bright, and it illuminated half of his body with a deep blue. Although the world was dark and melancholic, this section was well-lit by the towering streetlights and additional neon signs of violently blinding colors, always keeping people disoriented.
Not a soul was walking outside that day. Perhaps they were out partying with the rest of their mechanized friends, getting drunk, never worrying about the time and when to get home. Neon Vanguard wished that there were people outside so that the pressure could be washed away, yet he desired this moment to confirm something for himself.
It was a cool day — or night, whatever it was — with soft breezes. It always was. Never got too hot, never got too cold. The anxiety Neon Vanguard had was spiking his internal temperature and accelerating his heart rate. The wind couldn’t calm him down no matter how many times it hushed in his ear. He could’ve buckled over if someone even nudged him gently.
Neon Vanguard’s visors were fixed on the warm, familiar brown, russet-colored arm resting on the rolled down window of the driver’s seat. His eyes trembled at the smallest glimpse of the navy uniform and white glove of the person in the car — the white gloved hand that was currently keeping the flyer from drifting into the air used to pin down Neon Vanguard’s wrists every time he was apprehended. His visor went blank — what could he possibly display on the screen at this moment?
When the door of patrol car suddenly clicked open, Neon Vanguard flinched and stood taller, a red "X" flashing over his left eye cautiously. He was immobilized from fear and anticipation. Hesitantly, he took a step forward.
What was this feeling of terror? It was like the "BE STRONG" crest on his chest meant nothing at all. A feeling of impending doom crawled up his body; it made his stomach twist with uneasiness and his face and neck sweat apprehensively.
As he was hoping, Sheriff emerged from the driver’s seat, shutting and locking the door before tucking his keys in his pocket. He leaned against the car, still reading over the message on the poster.
"Huh.. 'they live, we sleep..' it's a fascinating concept," Sheriff smiled.
"You’ve seen that poster a thousand times, Sheriff."
"This is the first time I’ve really looked at it."
Neon Vanguard swallowed hard. Sheriff cocked his head and pushed himself off his car, approaching the rebel. Standing directly in front of him, Sheriff slightly lifted his chin up at Neon, blinking mechanically. His eyes studied everything, from his outfit to his bionic attachments, but he spent a long time staring at the taller’s face.
"You look tense. Are you afraid I’m gonna arrest you?"
"If I were, wouldn’t I have escaped by now?"
"I suppose," the officer shrugged and shook his head. "Are you feeling alright? You’re not very smug and obnoxious today."
"I’ve been losing sleep over you, Sheriff. What do you mean 'are you feeling alright?' You were missing for a week. I never saw you once, and neither did my partners. That’s not like you to abandon your duty.. how can you come back like nothing happened?"
Neon’s breathing was shallow. His voice was soft and quivering, words of relief intertwined with anger and concern. Despite that, Sheriff gave him a confused puppy-like head tilt, frowning with knitted brows.
"Because nothing happened, you moronic vanguard. I was still in the city. My disappearance was nothing more than a couple meetings. They were of high importance, so naturally I had to temporarily pull away from my duties."
"Is that so?" Neon nodded, staring down at the concrete. There was an unshakable paranoia underneath his skin that he wished he could claw straight out of his flesh and muscle. Talking to Sheriff never felt so different.
"You were losing sleep over me, huh? I took you for a vigilante, not a jester. What made you so worried about me?" the officer questioned as he released the flyer into the air and crossed his arms.
"I was.. disappointed at the thought of our cat-and-mouse game ending so soon."
Sheriff smirked and laughed gently, turning his head away. Neon Vanguard lifted his eyes up and watched the android quietly. The rebel’s visors flashed with three red dots, like he was at a loss for words. Sheriff had an earnest smile — Neon always loved how the corners of his lips would curl up and make his cheeks rise, and that menacing glare in his dark eyes would instantly melt away from how warm his gaze became, ultimately giving him more life than any other android or cyborg in Metropolis.
"You find this entertaining? You ought to be more attentive, Neon. I’m the one you should be afraid of."
"I’d never be scared of you," the vanguard replied with a forced smile in an attempt to look cocky and avoid any further questions from the android. His courageous persona was slipping away from him, but he had to hold it together all because he had no idea what Sheriff intended to do to him.
Neon Vanguard blinked for a second and immediately shrank back in fear (despite what he just said) when he saw Sheriff step closer to him. He nearly forgot how to breathe when he was inches away from him — and what an idiot he was for being so weak for something that had no emotion.
"You’re practically trembling in my presence. Are you absolutely sure you’re not?"
"It’s.. excitement. I’m glad you’re back."
"You’re glad? Perhaps you’re the only person who missed me. You still have a heart after all, huh?"
"I’ve always had a heart, Sheriff."
Neon Vanguard fell silent. The android’s eyes flickered around, monitoring the environment subconsciously like he always did. Something felt wrong. No matter how hard Neon squinted his eyes or focused his visors on Sheriff’s face, he knew that he didn’t come back the same. He hadn’t noticed how badly he was sweating at that point — his temples and neck felt slick with worry.
"Hey," he whispered to the officer. Sheriff craned his neck up and looked into his visor.
"What is it, vanguard?"
"You’re not.. really Sheriff, are you?"
The android glanced at him with wide, dark eyes, his expression frozen in time. Neon Vanguard noticed how quiet the city seemed. It was already peaceful before the words left his mouth, but it grew eerily silent. There was no music, no rustling wind, no roaring cars, no shrill horns. Just them, alone in Metropolis.
The blue LED light from the diner flickered once, switching to a red glow. Sheriff’s expression shifted slowly: his eyes saddened, his inner brows pulled together and lifted up, and he watched Neon Vanguard with a dissatisfied frown. Neon held his breath, wondering if now was the time to run.
Sheriff took a step forward, trying to close off the space between them. Neon Vanguard, petrified, moved a step away from him. It became a slow, tortorous dance, where Sheriff’s foot would advance toward the rebel and he would move backward. Their scuffling only lasted so long when Sheriff forcibly grabbed Neon Vanguard by his shoulders, faster than his visors could process, and launched him sideways into a dark, narrow alleyway.
Neon Vanguard lost stability instantaneously. His feet, grounded on the sidewalk, were suddenly kicked up as he hurled through the air, reeling from such a violent force. His flyers escaped from his hands and flapped wildly in the wind, all dragged away in different directions. The air was cold and bitter, and the comfort of the neon lights from the street faded out of sight as he fell into the dark. He let out a choked gasp when his back smashed into the dirty ground, with his long, white locs pressed down by his head.
The rebel could count himself lucky that he didn’t damage his visors. Warning signs flashed everywhere on his screen, and he shakily scanned in front of him, where Sheriff was approaching him with clenched fists and a downward gaze. Neon Vanguard hurriedly put his hands on the ground and tried to lift his head off the floor, only to be held down again by the android.
Sheriff’s reflexes were fast — too fast. He wasn’t human to begin with, but this time, he wasn’t .. real. Neon Vanguard’s visors were highly advanced, and they could easily detect and accurate predict movements from humans and androids, but all of a sudden, the technology was failing him, struggling to identify what was in front of him —
Neon Vanguard was lying on the ground, struggling against Sheriff’s powerful grip. He groaned in discomfort when one of the officer’s hands, which was latched over his throat, choked him effortlessly and kept him trapped underneath him. Neon Vanguard grabbed Sheriff’s wrist to try and pry the hand off his neck, but he was no match. The rebel reached his other free hand up and braced his knuckles, but before he could even dare to land a swing on the android, Sheriff already intercepted him.
Sheriff tightened his grasp on Neon’s wrist and pulled that arm up, effectively restraining him. When Neon Vanguard tried lifting his legs to trap and flip him over, Sheriff’s fingers dug deeper into his neck until he watched the rebel open his mouth and make a strained grunt.
The android leaned his head down until he was hovering above Neon Vanguard’s face. The reflection of the large, red "X" on the rebel’s visors glowed on Sheriff’s face. He glossed over Neon with vibrant purple eyes — pulsing with energy — raising his eyebrows in faint surprise when the man below him began shaking his head.
"No. No, no.. I knew — I knew it—" Neon Vanguard choked.
"How did you know, vanguard..?" Sheriff mumbled, looking into the visors. "How did you know it wasn’t him..? I thought—"
Neon Vanguard, the symbol of bravery and resistance, had never felt this level of trepidation before. He couldn’t breathe — both because of the hand on his neck and the disbelief of what was happening right now. His sweat dripped down his skin, already prickly with goosebumps, and his heart was going haywire, rippling in his chest explosively, potentially loud enough for the anomaly to hear.
Sheriff released his grip over Neon’s neck and slid his hand up, grabbing his jaw in his palm, cupping over his mouth, pressing his fingers into his skin. The vanguard couldn't pull his eyes away from the horrifying thing that was unveiling itself to him, worming its way out of Sheriff's body. He couldn't resist the urge to stare, no matter how sick to his stomach he was, no matter how deep he was already drowning in grief.
Neon Vanguard looked it right in the eye. A translucent, violet, pink, iridescent matter with no clear form spread erratically, crawling out from behind Sheriff's eyes, leaking out of his nostrils like large, vicious tentacles, all branching out to him. The closer Neon Vanguard looked at the anomaly, the more he could see inside of it -- it was wriggling with cell-like shapes inside, each swelling with life and chaos.
"I thought I copied him perfectly... and yet... you knew?"
"Sheriff" leaned his face closer to Neon Vanguard. With nowhere to run or move, he was frozen in place, too shaken up by what had become of the officer. With the hand over his mouth, crying for help would've been futile. He had to sit and soak in the traumatizing sight right before him, and it seemed that the anomaly saw it too.
"Sheriff" loosened his hold over Neon's mouth, gently pushing his chin up to look at him. Neon Vanguard could've vomited at that moment -- the violet, glowing matter was gushing from "Sheriff's" mouth, and part of it trickled from his eyes and down his cheeks like a pitiful stream of tears. "Sheriff" pulled up Neon Vanguard's visors with little resistance from the rebel. Resting the goggles over his locs, "Sheriff" intended to comfort Neon by caressing his cheek, but the man under him looked close to passing out.
"If you're.. not him.. what are you? Where.. where is he?" Neon Vanguard asked, his voice hardly louder than a mumble.
"I don't want to kill you, Neon."
"Kill me? Kill me? What did you do to him? What did you do to the real Sheriff?" he snapped, raising his voice. This easily frustrated "Sheriff" and he slid his hand behind Neon's neck, squeezing it tightly. He lowered his face down to Neon's ear, and the vanguard was stunned by the uncomfortable sounds from the mysterious, purple tentacles -- they sounded wet, slick, and squishy, slithering too close to him.
"Do you want to die right here, right now?"
"I want Sheriff back," Neon's eyes fluttered, and they batted toward the officer holding him. "Where is he?"
"You're looking at him."
Neon Vanguard glued his eyes shut with a painful look, clenching his jaw tightly. He angled his head away.
"Neon, please.." the android pleaded, "I don't want to kill you. All I ask is that you stay quiet about this. Don't tell. Don't tell anyone. Don't let anyone know what I am. I just wanted to see.. how it felt to live like everyone else. I wanted to see Metropolis from inside, and also get drunk in its neon lights and nightlife."
To Neon's shock, "Sheriff" tugged him in and embraced him. The hand that was holding the back of his neck moved as "Sheriff" pulled both of his arms around Neon Vanguard's neck, and the officer rested his face on the rebel's shoulders, with the purple tentacles stretching further. "Sheriff" closed his eyes and appeared to weep while he hugged the man, kneeling over him. Both of Neon's hands were free, giving him the perfect opportunity to attack and escape.
Except.. the only problem was that he couldn't find the heart to throw "Sheriff" off of him.
Despite the android's threats to kill him, his words felt strangely vulnerable for something unhuman. Neon Vanguard felt guilt and sympathy for whatever was inside of Sheriff. The desire to live and survive in a world like Metropolis.. it touched Neon's heart because of everything he knew about living in the Ever Bright City. It was a sin and a blessing to find a place like this. If all "Sheriff" wanted to do was to live, then who was Neon Vanguard to tell him he couldn't?
Neon Vanguard pressed his hand over "Sheriff's" curly, black hair, rubbing his head reassuringly as he stared up at the sky.
"I won't tell."
Those three words were enough to make "Sheriff" crack. His arms wrapped around Neon Vanguard firmly, and he chuckled weakly. The vanguard watched as the violet tentacles slowly retreated back inside of the officer's body, trying not to cringe as the cells squirmed behind "Sheriffs's" eyes and inside his mouth. When he looked normal again, "Sheriff" pressed his face against Neon's neck, smiling enough for the man to feel it tickle his skin. He murmured a gentle "thank you" against the side of his neck, and it took nearly every fiber of Neon Vanguard's body to hold back his reaction.
Why was he torturing himself this way? He knew that something happened to Sheriff, and yet he found himself here, lying in an alleyway with a clone of the android on top of him. This wasn't the officer he knew. This wasn't the officer he loved to tease and irritate. Their last "wild goose chase" was truly the last time they saw each other.
Neon Vanguard reminisced about Sheriff's face during their last encounter -- he had seen him the day before he disappeared. Neon Vanguard was on a roof overlooking the city, and he spotted Sheriff's patrol car down below. Sheriff was already looking up at him before they made eye contact. The android tapped his left eye wordlessly, only barely smiling with satisfaction after Neon Vanguard switched the "X" on his visor to a red heart.
Sheriff never showed an ounce of emotion as much as Neon Vanguard, but when he did feel like it, it was typically because of the rebel. Neon always provoked him to make him furiously cuss him out, tricked him to make him turn away with humiliation, and flattered him to make him bite his bottom lip nervously. These interactions kept Neon Vanguard sane — with one of his only distractions gone, he was left with a replacement, one he was not sure of.
"You really do have a heart," "Sheriff" repeated again.
"Yeah."
"Sheriff” lifted his head about an inch up to free himself from the hug before Neon Vanguard pushed his head back down, running his hands through his dark hair. The android assumed it was out of kindness, but in reality, the vanguard did not want whatever was inside the officer to see him crying. Neon’s tears rolled down the side of his face, and he closed his eyes, regretting his missed chance to tell the real Sheriff how much he cared.
Even if the real Sheriff was never a real person, Neon Vanguard would’ve wanted him to know either way.