Chapter Text
"You’ve missed something."
Parrot sighed irritably at the remark. He felt his eye was about to start twitching when some crisps crumbs fell onto the notebook.
“I know, genius,” he grumbled discontentedly, brushing aside strands of Wemmbu’s purple hair; his roommate had decided it was a good idea to rest his head on his friend’s while he did his work for him.
Wemmbu snorted, pulling a few more crisps out of the packet and deliberately starting to munch loudly to annoy Parrot even more. He sighed heavily, raising his hand and flicking Wemmbu on the nose, causing the latter to grumble discontentedly as he stepped aside and rubbed his nose dramatically.
"That was rude," objected Wemmbu, plopping down on the sofa in the corner of the room.
"Munching like that is impolite," retorted Parrot, crossing something out in his notebook and glancing at the wall clock with a heavy sigh. "And where’s Spoke? Wasn’t he supposed to be back half an hour ago?"
"It’s Spoke, he’s probably got himself into trouble again," replied Wemmbu calmly, reaching for the remote on the coffee table next to the sofa.
Wemmbu had to press the power button several times before the remote deigned to work. Parrot squinted when the sound on the telly was too loud. Wembu turned the volume down and began slowly flicking through the channels.
The three of them had been living together for about two years. Wemmbu covered the majority of the expenses of his own accord; although Parrot really wanted them to split the costs equally, Spoke was perfectly happy with the arrangement, and eventually, Parrot gave in. Living with the two of them was... chaotic. They argued often and engaged in pillow fights—which sometimes hit Parrot, dragging him into the fray. Unfortunately, Wemmbu almost always emerged the victor, as he had the stamina to battle two people at once whenever Spoke and Parrot teamed up against their enemy.
Parrot had met Spoke back in high school—specifically, halfway through the ninth grade—after he had to move to a different city. Even then, Spoke was incredibly energetic, constantly dragging Parrot into minor mischief: swiping gum from a store when no one was looking, spray-painting graffiti on the walls of abandoned buildings, or even climbing onto the school roof at night simply because "the view was nice." Life with Spoke was never dull, not even when he was tired.
They met Wemmbu much later. Parrot remembered running into him at his favorite bookstore; Wemmbu wasn't much of a reader and was simply buying a book for his roommate at the time. A year later, the three of them decided to move in together—mostly because Wemmbu's roommate had relocated to a part of the city that made his commute to work incredibly inconvenient.
And so, Parrot found himself putting up with the two most chaotic people in his life.
The first few months were strange. They might clean the place several times a day, simply because they didn't realize someone else had already tidied up. Or they would eat all the shared food, forgetting that they didn't actually live alone. Over time, the three of them got used to one another—though it was hardest for Wemmbu to step out of his comfort zone and stop acting so introverted.
The biggest issues had to do with sleeping arrangements.
The apartment had only one bedroom with a large double bed—something that was, frankly, annoying. They sold it—with the landlord's permission, of course, since Parrot knew keeping it could cause trouble—and bought two single beds. The problem remained that there were three of them; Spoke drew up a sleeping schedule, but Parrot had to redo it because Spoke had written himself in for the bed every single day.
Every morning, there was a battle for the first shower—or rather, a battle between Spoke and Wemmbu. While they were distracted, Parrot would slip in first, listening to their disgruntled, disappointed grumbling from behind the door.
... Then again, the sleeping arrangements didn't seem like such a big deal once Parrot discovered that his friends and roommates were a vigilante and a supervillain.
He found out quite by accident: a battered Wemmbu, fresh from a fight, forgot he wasn't living alone and returned home still wearing his costume. Parrot nearly had a heart attack. Wemmbu only realized he wasn't alone when Spoke whacked him over the head with a frying pan in an attempt to knock him out. According to Wemmbu, it really hurt.
Things were simpler with Spoke: he had personally asked Parrot to help him with "a certain matter"—purely out of curiosity—and Parrot had helped him decipher a letter whose contents he couldn't even recall. Spoke didn't go to great lengths to hide his identity from the other two; sometimes Wemmbu even helped him stop other villains, claiming it was just to maintain his reputation as the strongest. Spoke would merely laugh at this but never objected; as he put it, working with others was far more interesting.
As for Parrot... he was effectively their accomplice, helping Wemmbu devise bank heist plans and suggesting patrol areas to Spoke. Yet, Parrot faced one singular problem.
He don't have any powers. Nothing.
Of course, such powers could manifest at any age, but their absence was disheartening for Parrot—especially given how truly cool his roommates were.
Wemmbu—also known as Emperor—could turn invisible for 30 minutes; the weapons he held, the clothes he wore, and even the dirt clinging to him would vanish from sight. This was useful for instilling paranoia in his enemies and launching surprise attacks. Many might consider this ability ill-suited for open combat, but not Wemmbu, who seemed to have mastered it completely. Combined with his signature weapon, Gambit, and a pair of high-jumping boots—crafted by Spoke and Parrot in exchange for Wemmbu cleaning the apartment for two weeks—he could genuinely lay claim to the title of "strongest."
The ability possessed by Spoke—whose vigilante alias was Void—was far more complex and enigmatic. Parrot still hadn't fully figured out what it was he was doing. Many thought it was shadow manipulation, but that turned out to be a mistaken assumption. Spoke himself refused to say outright what he was capable of, insisting that they had to work it out for themselves. This was incredibly irritating to Wemmbu, whose curiosity only grew...
It was interesting.
As it turned out, Wemmbu and Spoke—outside of their secret identities—worked at the same place: they were photographers who took pictures of superheroes, villains, vigilantes, and everything related to them. It was amusing to watch them argue over whose photos turned out better, though given their other line of work, their shots were always more impressive than those of the other photographers.
Parrot even knew their boss, Minute Tech—a pleasant enough man who sometimes gave his neighbors a ride home. A couple of times, he even stopped by their place for coffee. On those occasions, his neighbors would frantically tidy up anything that might give away their secret identities, looking a bit nervous each time. Yet, for some reason, Minute seemed strangely familiar to Parrot, though he couldn't quite recall why.
Parrot himself worked at a bookstore—the very same one he had loved visiting as a teenager. He usually worked alongside the owner, Wifies; the building had been a gift from Wifies's parents when he came of age. Wifies was an interesting person—a graduate of a prestigious institution who nonetheless found genuine enjoyment in such a simple job. He was truly pleasant to work with; he told all sorts of stories and would treat Parrot to coffee or buy him a meal whenever he hadn't had time to cook. Wifies was so kind that he had no problem letting Parrot take time off—and would even insist on it if Parrot seemed too exhausted.
Parrot snapped out of his thoughts, blinking a few times to focus his gaze on the television. He let out a heavy sigh when he saw Spoke’s familiar costume. He’d gotten himself into trouble again. A short video played on the TV showing Spoke—dressed in his Void costume—fleeing from a hero named Manus, who was trying his hardest to catch him. In the end, Spoke managed to get away, leaving Manus empty-handed. Parrot sighed again, realizing he’d missed exactly what had happened. Vembu snorted and started flipping through the channels again. If Spoke had escaped, that meant everything was fine. Probably.
Five minutes later, the sound of keys jingling rang out, and the door flew open. Spoke burst into the apartment, shutting the door behind him and trying to catch his breath.
Parrot and Wemmbu peered curiously into the hallway. Parrot looked genuinely surprised, while Wemmbu chuckled: Spoke was soaking wet and not wearing his costume, but rather civilian clothes—he wasn't even wearing his mask. He was doubled over, hands on his knees, breathing heavily.
"You won't believe what happened!" he exclaimed, his voice unexpectedly loud as he straightened up and smoothed back his wet hair.
____
Spoke had been running as fast as he could.
He’d painfully banged into things a few times along the way, but there was absolutely no time to stop. That annoying hero, Manus, had nearly grabbed him with one of his hands; he’d barely managed to break free.
How was he supposed to know they were the bad guys?
Two people had politely asked him to hold a small bag, and—acting like a good vigilante—he’d agreed. The pair walked off, leaving Spoke standing there in confusion; then, he heard a faint beeping sound. Unable to resist his curiosity, he slowly opened the bag.
Holy shit.
Right there inside the glamorous pink handbag lay a real bomb. He probably should have called the police, but he froze in shock. He had never encountered anything like this before.
To his great dismay, Manus—whom he hadn't even noticed at first—landed right behind him. The hero smoothed back his white hair before speaking, making Spoke flinch.
"Are you in on this too?" Manus’s voice sounded raspy through his mask.
Void turned around, staring at him in surprise and darting his eyes back and forth between Manus and the bag. Unable to think of anything better to do, he tossed the bag to Manus and bolted in the opposite direction.
"What the..." Manus didn't even get to finish his sentence before the bomb exploded—but instead of a standard blast, bright pink glitter showered the area. Manus froze, realizing he was now covered in pink sparkles.
He tossed the bag aside and lunged after Void—moving, surprisingly, with incredible speed. Spoke let out a soft, startled squeak as one of Manus’s hands tried to grab his leg. He quickly kicked it away and picked up the pace. Along the way, he spotted someone filming him; he paused to wave at the camera for a split second before sprinting off again.
He had been running for several minutes and was starting to get tired.
Finally, spotting an open window, Spoke decided to climb inside. Without a second thought, he nimbly scrambled onto the roof, kicked out the insect screen, and slipped into the apartment. Catching his breath, he looked up and locked eyes with a surprised young man—apparently around his own age—who was casually snacking and watching something on his laptop.
"Quick, hide me!" Spoke said nervously, stepping closer.
The man made a sound of surprise and jabbed a finger at his own chest, as if verifying he’d heard correctly. With a heavy sigh, he got up from the sofa, brushed the crumbs off his red hoodie, and dragged Spoke into the bathroom. Shoving him into the shower, he turned on the cold water, eliciting a sharp yelp from Spoke. He shuddered, looking at the guy with annoyance, but he just laughed as he left the bathroom and closed the door behind him.
Spoke wanted to turn off the water, but suddenly he heard heavy footsteps and Manus’s familiar voice.
"Excuse me, have you seen Void around here?" the hero asked irritably, clearly out of breath from a long run.
"Yeah, he tore out my window screen but ran off downstairs," the stranger said as calmly as possible.
"Oh? Right..." Manus headed for the exit but stopped when he heard the sound of running water from the bathroom. "...And who’s in there, if you don't mind me asking?"
Spoke’s breath hitched as he pressed his back against the tiles, praying to anyone he could think of that he’d get away with it.
"That’s... uh... my sister. She’s getting ready for a date, yeah, " The man was clearly trying not to laugh as he made up something ridiculous on the spot.
Manus hesitated, looking at him skeptically, but didn't argue; he slowly walked out of the apartment. Once his footsteps faded, the stranger opened the bathroom door, laughing loudly.
Spoke sighed heavily, looking at his reflection in the mirror. He didn't look cool at all anymore: his suit was soaked through, clinging uncomfortably to his body, and his wet hair made him look like a stray cat caught in the rain. At least he wasn't hot anymore.
"What was the point of turning on the water?" Spoke asked, waiting for the man to calm down.
"That’s revenge for the mosquito screen." "Just imagine how many of them might have flown in here already," he said, calming down and trying to compose himself. "By the way, my name is Mapic."
Mapic finally introduced himself, stepping closer to Spoke and turning off the cold water with a smirk. Spoke simply rolled his eyes, fighting the urge to shake himself dry like a dog—an act of petty revenge for getting soaked.
"So, Void, huh?" Mapic mused, wiping his hands on a towel. "You definitely need a change of clothes."
"Oh?" Spoke raised an eyebrow beneath his mask as he stepped out of the shower, trying to fix his hair. "I wouldn't have to if someone hadn't turned on the water. And since that’s the case, I suppose I’ll be borrowing some of your clothes."
Mapic raised his eyebrows in surprise and opened his mouth to object, but quickly shut it again, deep in thought. A playful glint appeared in his eyes as an idea struck him.
"Fine, but you have to let me wear your mask," he said with a smirk, leaning back against the wall.
"What? That would reveal my identity!" Spoke exclaimed in protest, frowning.
"Oh, come on! You’ll have to take it off to change anyway," Mapic said, walking out of the bathroom. "Besides, I saved you! Consider it paying off a debt."
Spoke sighed heavily and trudged after Mapic. His new acquaintance told him to wait on the sofa while he went to fetch the clothes. Spoke stared for a long time at the screen of the still-running TV, clearly displeased with the situation. But Mapic was right about one thing: he really ought to change clothes—plus, wet garments were noticeably heavier than dry ones. Mapic seemed like a decent guy; although Spoke really didn't want to show him his face, it wasn't as if they’d ever meet again, right?
Mapic returned a couple of minutes later with a set of clean, dry clothes—a bright red T-shirt and loose black shorts—and handed them to Spoke. After a moment’s hesitation, Spoke removed his mask, letting out a deliberate snort.
"Oh," Mapic said in surprise as he took the mask Spoke held out. "You actually look surprisingly normal."
"Of course I look normal," Spoke grumbled, heading into the other room to change.
The clothes were a bit too big for him, but that wasn't a major issue; right now, anything would do. A minute later, he heard Mapic shout loudly in his direction.
"How do you even see out of this thing?"
"It’s a magic mask—hang on a sec," Spoke shouted back, already pulling on the red T-shirt. Sure enough, a moment later came a surprised "oh," making Spoke chuckle.
Once changed, Spoke finally stepped out of the bathroom, clutching his wet suit under his arm; it was already starting to soak through onto his T-shirt. He couldn't help but laugh when he saw Mapic trying to strike a Spider-Man pose while wearing the mask.
"You look ridiculous,” Spoke said, still chuckling as he walked over and pulled the mask off Mapic’s face, eliciting a disgruntled sound.
“You could at least say thanks...” Mapic grumbled, trying to fix his hair.
______
“...And then I went home. That was the highlight of the last month,” Spoke said with obvious delight, walking into the house and tossing his wet suit onto the sofa, making Wemmbu wince.
Parrot frowned, shielding his face with his hand as he followed Spoke, who had just flopped onto the sofa, stretching out after a long day. Wemmbu grimaced; picking up Void’s suit, he hauled it toward the washing machine with a disgruntled grumble.
"So..." Parrot began slowly, stopping right in front of Spoke and looking him in the eye. "You just went ahead and agreed to reveal your identity in exchange for... clothes."
"Yeah. But he covered for me against that annoying multi-armed guy," Spoke countered, crossing his arms defensively, though he glanced away with a hint of sheepishness. "Besides, I don't think we'll ever see each other again. It was a one-time thing, I promise!"
Parrot sighed heavily but didn't argue further. It was absolutely pointless with Spoke. He sat down next to him, pulling his legs in close and resting his head on his knees. The notebook where he’d jotted down "Wemmbu (Parrot)’s 'genital' plan for the bank heist" lay forgotten on the floor, surrounded by scattered pens and pencils. Someone was bound to step on them in the dark if they were left there.
A couple of minutes later, the washing machine gave a soft beep, and Wemmbu returned, flopping onto the sofa beside Spoke.
It was surprisingly comfortable. These two were among the few people with whom he felt truly safe. Parrot had absolutely no special abilities, so his concerns on that front seemed entirely justified; yet, in the company of his roommates, that sense of inferiority vanished—or, at the very least, became far less acute.
This quiet interlude, broken only by the sounds of a movie playing on the TV, didn't last long. It ended the moment Wemmbu propped his legs onto Spoke’s, eliciting a grumble of annoyance from the latter. Spoke tried to push them off, but Vembu kept putting them back, a smug grin playing on his lips. At one point, Wemmbu tried to give Spoke a playful kick but ended up striking Parrot on the nose instead.
Everyone in the room froze for a moment.
Parrot closed his eyes. A second passed before he reached for a pillow.
This time, it was war—a fight to the death.
______
Wemmbu snorted in annoyance as he finely chopped the green onions. It was his turn to cook dinner today while his roommates relaxed. On top of that, it was also his turn to sleep on the couch—which always left his back aching terribly. A terrible day. Just terrible.
Once he finished with the onions, he seasoned the fish, sneezing a couple of times when the spices got up his nose. Wemmbu wasn't a fan of seafood, but he had absolutely no desire to go to the store this late, so he had to make do with what was on hand.
He put the fish in the oven, then sat down on a chair, resting his head on one hand and gazing thoughtfully into the distance.
Despite the two years they’d spent together, he still hadn't fully gotten used to living without Eggchan. Initially, Wemmbu had wanted to move in with him—even though the commute to work would have been much longer—but Parrot found out about the plan and suggested they rent an apartment as a trio. The place was... quite cozy. And to some extent, Vemmbu was glad to have two people around with whom he didn't have to hide his true self; it was nice having people who stuck by him, no matter what he did.
He hadn't forgotten about Eggchan, of course. They still went for walks together regularly, and Wemmbu even helped Eggchan out whenever he needed it. After all, they were best friends.
Today, Minute had let him leave work a little early and even drove him home. It was surprising how someone who looked so stern could turn out to be so... caring. Even though Wemmbu was sometimes annoyed at being treated like a child, it was still nice. It was a good thing his life was finally starting to stabilize and fall into place, even if he was still a villain. Emperor. It had a proud ring to it, didn't it? He liked his ability; invisibility offered plenty of advantages that he happily exploited. Even if it wasn't always fair play. He was a villain, after all, right? That’s just how villains operated.
Covering the lion's share of the expenses wasn't a problem for him; he had more than enough money to maintain his costume and keep Gambit running. If he wanted to, Wemmbu could even rent his own apartment. He wasn't sure why he was still living there with the other two.
Working as a photographer was more of a hobby. It was actually quite soothing. In his spare time, he didn't just photograph heroes, villains, and other such riffraff; he enjoyed taking pictures of random things, too.
A burnt-out lightbulb, an abandoned building, a landscape... Wemmbu even ran a social media account where he posted his photos. A couple of times, he’d even seen his shots being used for various projects. That felt good.
Wemmbu’s attention drifted as he twirled a lock of hair around his finger, noting that he needed a touch-up. His natural color wasn't nearly as vibrant—lavender, to be precise. Don't get him wrong, lavender was beautiful, but a rebellious streak in him wanted to dye his hair a bold, bright color. He’d been doing it for years and still wasn't tired of it. Though, the hair upkeep cost a fortune. Maybe even too much...
Lost in thought, Wemmbu didn't notice that the fish was already cooked. He opened the oven and snorted as a blast of heat and the aroma of baked fish hit his face. Quickly grabbing the nearest towel, he carefully removed the baking sheet and then reached for the plates.
Five minutes later, the fish had been neatly portioned onto three plates arranged on the small round table. Wemmbu wiped his hands, humming softly, before calling his housemates to the table.
Parrot arrived first, quickly taking his usual seat opposite the small window. Spoke, however, decided to stop by the bathroom on his way. Vembu didn't pay it any mind and started eating without waiting for his housemate. Just then, a loud shout rang out from the bathroom.
"Where did George go!?" Spoke rushed out of the bathroom, glaring at Wemmbu as if he had just robbed a bank.
Parrot froze, staring at the fish on his plate.
"Wemmbu," Parrot began quietly, shifting his gaze to the man across from him, "I don't recall us having any fish."
Ah.
You see... the night before, unexpectedly for everyone, Spoke had brought home a frozen salmon. At first, Wemmbu thought it was for dinner, but Spoke refused to part with his precious fish; he had named it George and placed it in a bowl of water in the bathroom. It was, to put it mildly, bizarre. Whenever Wemmbu took a shower, he felt unsettled by the fish's dead eyes, which seemed to stare right into his soul. Wemmbu made no reply to Parrot and continued eating his salmon.
Ten minutes later, Spoke was staring at his plate with a strange look, unable to bring himself to take a bite.