Chapter Text
Bdubs thought things were going great.
It was just perfect that he was up against one of Hermit City’s most powerful villains. Just perfect that he had been attacked at a time when he was completely alone and didn’t have any other heroes to help.
Honestly, things couldn’t have been better.
(Note: sarcasm.)
It was just–this was all so frustrating. Bdubs was technically off-duty! This villain had no right to attack him like this, when he wasn’t even on a shift!
But, of course, villains didn’t exactly play by the rules. Especially when it came to obeying the hero agency, as they were criminals’ number one enemy.
It would have been annoying if, at times, they didn’t have a point. Honestly, though he would never admit it, Bdubs found himself agreeing with the villains on some things.
Because the hero headquarters could be…intense. Rigorous training methods, long meetings, back-to-back shifts—it all piled up so fast. Plus, their ranking system was completely biased and made it nearly impossible for rookie heroes to ascend the list, especially if they were a hybrid of some sort.
Those things, along with several others, made it difficult for people to back the agency. Most villains didn’t even want to overthrow the entire city; they just wanted the hero department to be more fair. Equal to everyone.
In a different life, Bdubs might have fought for that cause. He might have stood side by side with the “wretched scum” of the city, as the media had named them. He might have been that wretched scum if it paved the way for others.
As it was, he worked for the hero department. And he liked his job, even if it was dangerous and his bosses mostly sucked. He knew that overall, their cause was just. They had flaws, sure, and missed the mark a lot of the time, but breaking the law constantly like villains did was no way to change a system.
The point was, Bdubs had met good people in the agency, too. Hotguy was one of them, for one thing, and also his new partner, Cuteguy. Heck, Cuteguy himself had been a vigilante before all this, and he still was backing the agency.
(Well, kind of. Bdubs had heard the avian, on multiple occasions, complaining about procedures and training and other heroes and–
He was still adjusting, okay? Going from being the city’s most infamous vigilante to a full-blown hero was a lot to handle.)
That in itself was another touchy category to deal with. ‘Vigalentism’ was when someone was against both the heroes and the villains. They didn’t want to align themselves with either group.
Most vigilantes aided heroes in some way, whether by saving people or fighting against villains. But they were adamantly against the agency, just like villains were, so…
Kind of a grey area. Though lately, that particular group had been much quieter. Ever since Cuteguy left them in favour of becoming Hotguy’s partner, the tension between them had been palpable.
Even as an employed hero, Bdubs didn’t know all the details. He hadn’t thought that a vigilante could just drop everything and become a hero. Everyone else had gone through intense interviews, and few had gotten selected unless they had promising powers or abilities.
Not Cuteguy, though. All Bdubs really did know was that Cuteguy had joined the hero’s department after some sort of fight in the warehouse district. Something to do with Amethyst and her new partner, something to do with Hotguy fighting them and dragging Cuteguy back to HQ.
Of course, it hadn’t been a very smooth transition. Cuteguy switching from the technical “bad” side to the “good” side took a lot of time and adjusting. But now, several months later, they were finally starting to get on.
Surprisingly, Bdubs actually liked working with the duo. Hotguy and Cuteguy had a peculiar partnership; almost like they would rather be doing anything than fighting together, but also they would murder anyone who got close to the other. It was strange, but it was neat. Plus, their banter was persistent and funny and often a welcome distraction from the dangers at hand.
Dangers like villains. Like the villain Bdubs was currently fighting.
Of course, he hadn’t been planning to get into a battle with this guy. But who ever plans to get attacked?
It had been a regular day, as far as days go when you’re a hero. Bdubs had had a long patrol shift, stretching from the early hours in the morning all the way to the evening, when the sun was beginning to set and drench the sky in darkness.
(Annoyingly, he’d been getting more and more shifts like that as of late. The agency was obviously understaffed; too many civilians siding with the vigilantes and villains. It was starting to show in the way they overworked their current heroes. Bdubs had heard of Hotguy and Cuteguy having to patrol for twenty hours straight, just last week.)
He was heading back to headquarters, tired from his long day but not injured, when he attacked.
Villains, of course, have absolutely no sense of time. They seem to think that attacking at any hour of the day or night was perfectly acceptable, and in fact, they strived for it. They didn’t care that Bdubs was officially off-duty.
Knowing this, when the first dart suddenly flew from the darkness, slicing suddenly across Bdubs’ shoulder, he’d simply sighed.
“Couldn’t you guys have waited until someone else was out here?” he called, loudly, exaggeratedly. He looked around for who he might see in the shadows, but found nothing but darkness as an answer.
Hmmm. Odd. He’d turned his attention to his injury. His shoulder hurt, but not very badly. Whatever dart that had been fired was a pathetic thing; he was hardly bleeding at all.
An amateur villain, then, he thought to himself. Easy. He would take them down quickly and get back home in time for dinner.
(He was, of course, completely wrong about this.)
Before he had time to act anymore, another dart came from some hidden building. Bdubs saw it coming and managed to dodge this one, more annoyed than anything else. He didn’t have time to be dealing with wanna-be trouble makers. He wanted to get home. He wanted to rest.
“Can we wrap this up?” he called out, throwing his voice around in hopes that it might reveal the location of the perpetrator. No luck. “I kind of have a thing to get to.”
There was no response. Predictable.
Another dart fired. Bdubs dodged it easily. He tried to trace the location of it, but he didn’t have his power activated, so all he saw was inky darkness. He should probably start his ability up if he wanted this to end quickly.
He was just thinking this when a thick, distorted voice suddenly flooded the street, “Surrender, and I’ll spare you.”
Normally, the words would have been cliche. Bdubs opened his mouth to tell the pathetic little runt just that, to tell them that their stupid little darts weren’t doing anything at all.
But then–he realised he recognised that voice, changed as it was through a mask. Every single hero in Hermit City would know it.
Zeus.
But–but that didn’t make any sense. Hotguy had just apprehended him a week ago! He’d been put into prison! How could he be back?
Genuine panic lit inside Bdubs heart. This wasn’t–how could this–
He didn’t know what to do. Hotguy was a way better trained hero than him, more high ranked, and he had struggled with Zeus. And he had a partner! Fighting someone like this wasn’t in Bdubs caliber; he didn’t know how to deal with it. How could he?
“You seem surprised to see me,” came that voice again, slightly tilted up, like it was amused. It sounded like it was coming from a hundred different directions all at once. Sounded like it was a monster, lurking, preying on Bdubs. He whipped around, trying to find the source, but couldn’t, too distracted to activate his power. “You shouldn’t be. Prison can’t hold me for long, especially not your pathetic little hero's quarters."
There was a snarl in that sentence somewhere. Bdubs could feel apprehension creeping up his skin like bugs. Another dart was fired, and this time, he was too slow to dodge it. It grazed his arm, and a sharp sting of pain erupted before immediately fading again.
Bdubs shoved it away; it didn’t matter. “Show yourself!” he called out, sinking into a fighting stance. But it was useless; how do you fight someone you can’t even see?
“Hmm. I don’t think I will,” Zeus murmured, before another dart came flying out. “I’m quite content to watch you squirm from up here.”
Bdubs grunted as he was hit. The dart, notably, didn’t hurt any more than the others had, but for some reason his vision was beginning to swim.
He shook his head to clear that, pushed it aside to focus on something else. Zeus had slipped: he’d said ‘up here’. Implying that he was on top of one of the buildings in this area.
Now all Bdubs had to do was find him.
That would be… a little difficult, he knew. Zeus’s power made it easy for blending into his surroundings, for fading into the background like a nobody. Even in broad daylight alone on the street, he could be impossible to see.
But Bdubs also had an ability, and it was finally time for him to activate it. He took a deep breath, concentrating with all he could. His vision threatened to waver, but then all of a sudden it faded into sharp focus.
His power? Eagle Eyes.
It had been the main thing that the hero agency had looked at before accepting him. His ability allowed him to see great distances, allowed him to look into the darkness and see pure light. His eyes were his most powerful tool, when he actually remembered to use them.
He didn’t want to be too obvious, though. Bdubs may not be on par with Hotguy and Cuteguy, but he was well known, and his ability was, too. If Zeus realised what Bdubs was doing, he’d just run or move spots, and his plan would be lost.
So instead of immediately looking up, Bdubs pretended to scan the ground floors first, where he knew Zeus was unlikely to be. As he did so, several darts were fired at him, seemingly from random directions.
Ah. Zeus must have set up some guns to automatically shoot at periodic times. Bdubs waited for a dart to shoot, and then, using his power, he followed it back to its home.
A cannon on a second story building. Gotcha.
It was time for Bdubs to produce his own weapon. He reached for his belt, his fingers grazing his gun, sitting patiently in his holster. In one swift motion, he pulled it out and fired it rapidly towards the cannon.
He knew it was a direct hit when Zeus’s voice let out something like a surprised growl. A moment later, a dart fired from a different location.
And then began the dance. Bdubs would wait for a dart to fire, then trace it back to its source and eliminate the weapon. In between, he could glance upwards to the rooftops, scanning them, zooming in and out. He had yet to catch even a glimpse of Zeus.
Darts were hitting him more and more the longer he took to look. They weren’t bad. More like they were just slowing him down. He still didn’t understand them.
The good news was that he was routinely taking all the cannons down. His gun was a simple model, but it had a lot of ammo, and he carried extra cartridges, so he could probably do this all night if he had to.
Which he didn’t want to, of course. Just a hypothetical.
It seemed that Zeus didn’t want to, either. The man kept letting out frustrated sounds whenever one of his cannons was disarmed. He didn’t speak much, which was strange considering he typically loved to taunt heroes at an opportunity he got. He just kept firing darts.
Bdubs was considering the damage of said weapons. They had hit him a dozen or so times, but they hadn’t been very painful. More like a light scratch, a bee sting. Nothing like how he’d thought the famed Zeus would fight.
“Is this the best you’ve got?” he taunted, because seriously, was this the best he had? If so, how in the world had Hotguy and Cuteguy struggled?
Zeus’s voice came through his mask distorted and funny sounding. “You have no idea.”
Another dart fired, and Bdubs dodged it. He raised his gun and fired at the cannon without looking, his eyes busy searching the rooftops again. He’d done the whole left side, and now it was time for the right.
Come on. Come on…
There!
Zeus was just a figure, a shadow, a ghost on the roof. Anybody could have gazed over at him, not having noticed his frame at all. He was nobody, absolutely no one, nearly completely invisible.
But not to Bdubs.
Having zeroed in on his target, there was no reason for him to pay any attention to the meaningless darts. He set his gun to “stun” rather than “kill” (heroes were supposed to bring in villains alive, after all) and raised his weapon.
Bdubs had shot his gun at people before. His hands didn’t shake and his aim was very, very good.
But even he couldn’t hit a target that moved at the last second.
It was crazy. One minute, Bdubs was lining his sights on Joel, finding his weak points, taking in a breath and letting it out. He was squeezing the trigger.
And then the next: none of that mattered. Before the bullet reached him, all of a sudden, Zeus jumped out of the way. He moved as if he’d seen it coming, as if he’d known he was in Bdub’s sights.
“Ah,” Zeus’s voice came over the intercom. He was breathing heavily, sort of, but he didn’t sound hurt. “I had wanted to avoid this.”
Bdubs’s eyes narrowed. He tracked the movement of the villain as the man disappeared from the rooftop, hopping from building to building in that strange way heroes and villains could. A few moments later he was on the ground level, brandishing a wicked looking sword.
Unconsciously, Bdubs shied away. He eyed the sword with distaste. His head felt like it was swimming in a strange, uncanny way.
Zeus had a mask on that covered the lower half of his face, similar to Bdubs’ own. He wore a thick green visor, but his eyes were violent things, narrowed as they were behind it. He had gunpowder smeared on his suit.
“You’re a pesky little vermion, aren’t you?” he murmured, angrily, stalking closer. He frowned at Bdubs, as if expecting him to fall over. “Why aren’t my darts working on you?” he demanded.
Bdubs blinked. Surprise shifted through him. So the darts weren’t useless, after all? “Like I’d tell you,” he shot back, though he truly had no idea.
Frustration flared in Zeus’s eyes. He gripped his sword tightly, twisting it around, staring at Bdubs with thinly veiled anger.
And then he charged.
This was the part where Bdubs knew for sure he was outmatched. He may have had his gun, and he may have been trained by the hero’s agency, but he was effectively useless at close combat.
Plus, he didn’t have a sword. It was a bit unfair.
(But villains never played very fair.)
Zeus lunged at him, swinging the sword like a club. Bdubs knew the man was an excellent swordsman, so the sloppy move caught him off guard. He dodged easily.
Zeus let out a growl, his balance thrown off when he didn’t meet his target. He stumbled a bit, but regained his balance and reeled back on Bdubs. He raised his blade again and rushed forward.
This time, he threw technique into the attack, and Bdubs was no match for something like that. Desperately, he dove to the side, narrowly avoiding being embowled.
Yeah…this was not good.
He flipped his wrist, his watch gleaming up at him. He tapped at the interface, but before he could do anything, a solid kick was landed on his back. Grunting, he collapsed onto the gravely ground, his bare skin raking across it, his head bouncing off the rough surface. He let out a pained hiss.
“Oh, no you don’t,” Zeus growled, holding his sword in one hand. With the other, he reached for Bdub’s watch, and before the hero could do anything, it was slipped from his hand. “You aren’t calling for help with your little toys.”
And with that, the villain slammed it on the ground.
Bdubs could feel his mouth fall open a bit. His watch, which was in all reality a communicator that kept contact with the agency, shattered on the asphalt, the screen cracking and flying upward.
This was really not good.
Growling, he flipped from his stomach to his back. The place where Zeus had kicked him hurt with his weight on it and his head flared painfully, but he ignored them both, pulling his legs up and thrusting them out at Joel. He was aiming for his hands, and was only a little surprised when he landed a solid hit.
Zeus yelped, scrambling back. He seemed more surprised and angry than actually hurt. Despite the hit, he maintained a solid hold on his sword. It wasn’t going anywhere.
With Zeus distracted, Bdubs scrambled to his feet. He was bleeding from his fall onto the ground, his suit cut along his torso, but not a lot. Even so, his vision swam and a dizzy spell fell over him. Spots dotted his vision. His head ached.
He narrowed his eyes to clear the pain and discovered Zeus was charging him once again. He gasped and swiped right, but between his vertigo and the leftover hurt, he was slow. Sloppy. The tip of Zeus's sword penetrated his abdomen, cutting across his torso as he dove.
Pain erupted in his stomach. Somehow, Bdubs landed in a roll and stood again, but this time, he was swaying awkwardly, nearly tumbling over. Blood rushed down the front of his suit.
Gosh, he thought, distantly. That cannot be good.
Zeus’s sword was dripping with the same red ichor. He seemed momentarily surprised that he had managed to hit Bdubs at all, but then the look faded, covered quickly by callousness.
Bdubs pressed his hands to his wound and glared at Zeus. Pain was spreading throughout his body, sharp and heavy and something difficult to manage. He didn’t want to look down and see the damage that had been done to him.
But then, all of a sudden, he wasn’t even standing anymore. The world had tipped sharply on its side, the ground coming up to reach him. He collapsed on the rough street like a sack of rocks, landing on his gun. It dug into his side. His head pulsed.
Zeus hovered over him. His eyes had gone wide behind his visor, and for the first time, he didn’t look angry. He didn’t even look calm and collected; he looked scared. He stared at Bdubs like something other worldly, like he hadn’t just done that to him. Like he had just realised who he was.
“You’re not–but I thought–I’m,” Zeus started, his distorted voice rough around the edges. He was still standing there, still holding his sword like it had betrayed him. “I didn’t know…I didn’t mean–”
Bdubs growled, suddenly reaching for his gun. He whipped it up and, without hesitating, fired it.
The shot hit Zeus in the gut. The gun was set to stun, so the impact was significantly lower, but it would have hurt. The villain grunted, hunching over and dropping his sword. It clattered loudly to the ground, the noise echoing off the buildings around them.
For a moment, the world narrowed to this moment. Bdubs, lying on the street, blood pooling beneath him. His head swimming and his vision wavering in and out of focus.
And then Zeus, holding his gut like he might be sick. Shaking, a bit. A hero and a villain reduced to nothing much more than two hurt figures.
But not for long. Bdubs didn’t know much, but he did know he needed medical attention. He was actively bleeding, and to make things worse, he was starting to think those darts were working, after all. At least, the way the world was spinning couldn’t be normal.
So he lifted his gun a second time. Shot, a second time.
Zeus nearly collapsed when the second bullet hit him. He stumbled and wavered, hunching further. A pained noise came from him.
“Stop,” he tried. “Stop.”
The two words were simple, but they seemed to pierce right through Bdubs. His arm was shaking where it held the gun. Gasping, he managed, “Go.”
Zeus lifted his head. His eyes were pained and confused. “Go?” he mouthed, like he didn’t understand the meaning of the word.
Bdubs scrunched his noise. It felt like his torso was on fire. “Go,” he repeated, strongly, emphasising the word like it was something important. It was.
Zeus just looked at him. He hesitated, then he scooped his sword up. He took a few steps backward and then stopped.
Bdubs scrunched his nose, making sure to show off his gun again. The message was clear: We’re at a standstill. Hurt me and I will end you.
It was a strange way to stop a fight, but it was a way, and a moment later, Zeus did exactly as Bdubs had told him to.
He turned and ran, leaving Bdubs collapsed on the street in the dark, bloody. Possibly dying.
Bdubs waited for several minutes after Zeus had disappeared around the street corner. The man had been hobbling from the stun shots, looking near to passing out, but Bdubs knew he was strong. He could probably come back and kill the hero if he thought about it.
If he hadn’t killed him already.
The thought provoked the wound on his stomach farther. Bdubs grimaced as pain flared, glancing down just for a moment.
Red.
He shivered. He felt sick, all of a sudden, like a fever had blossomed in his head while he’d been laying there. He glanced again down the street. Darkness pressed in around him and he realised that night had fallen sometime in the battle.
Bdubs grunted, forcing himself into a sitting position. Pain flared over him, seeming to race up and down his body. He shivered violently and thought he might throw up.
Somehow, he managed to shove the bile down. He looked again down the abandoned street, wondering what would happen if any civilians showed up and saw him like this. Would they help him?
But–but that was too risky. Waiting around gave opportunity for new villains to appear, to hurt him, and Budubs had already been hurt enough tonight, thank you very much. He had to get a move on.
Even the thought hurt his body to imagine. Somehow, through heavy breathing and tightening of muscles, he hauled himself to his feet. Predictably, his vision swam uncomfortably, threatening to black out all at once. He thought he might fall over again, but miraculously didn’t.
There was–there was no way he would be able to make it to the hero headquarters in this state.
The thought filled him with something akin to despair, helplessness lapping at his heels. Bdubs wasn’t stupid; he needed help. Like this, he might–
He might die.
And to make everything worse, his communicator had been broken, and he didn’t have his phone since he’d just come back from patrol. He had no way to contact his people, no way to get help.
He was…alone.
The thought shouldn't have scared him as much as it did. He was a hero, for crying out loud. He should be able to take care of himself.
But despite what Zeus had said, Bdubs suspected that whatever effect the darts had been supposed to initiate were beginning to take hold of him. His head was swimming, his vision wavering dangerously.
He thought–he thought he might pass out.
It was startling to realise. If he lost consciousness here, he would be vulnerable. Alone. He would die for sure, bleeding out on a little street in the middle of the city. He’d be discovered in the morning, and the news wouldn’t stop reporting on it for days. He would become a headline instead of a person.
The imagery was enough to urge him on. Gasping, Bdubs stumbled along. His lunching steps mostly served to hurt his wound farther, but at least he was moving. However slow it was, he was making progress.
But it wouldn't last long. He was losing blood, and fast. He needed medical attention now.
He tried to think through the pain. What was the logical thing he could do? Continue onto hero headquarters?
He would–he would never make it. He was still several blocks away from them, and even when he got there, there was no telling the medical staff could immediately help.
He groaned, continuing forward again, as if maybe he could do something worthwhile if only he kept going. He mentally ran through a hundred calculations. The hospital? But he had the same problem there; it was too far. Plus, they would find out his real identity if he went there, and that was absolutely not supposed to happen.
And that left…no one.
Something like horror welled up in Bdubs. He couldn't–
He was going to die like this, wasn't he? Out here, in the middle of the city, in the dark, when no one was there?
Bdubs had spent so much of his life alone. He hated being alone, hated when people left–he didn't–he couldn't–
Pathetic, hot tears threatened his eyes. His gaze went blurry and he couldn't tell if it was from the darts or himself.
He went forward again. Pain was quickly engulfing him, threatening to bring him crashing to the pavement once again. He blearily lifted his head and studied the buildings around them like they might offer salvation.
(Turns out: they would.)
Something strange washed over him the longer he looked. He–he recognised this place. This neighborhood, and not just because it was so close to the hero headquarters. No–he recognised it because this is where he lived.
Big B. Or better known as his villain name: the Creaking.
It felt like the world had somehow gotten simultaneously darker and brighter at the same time. Big B was….difficult.
Bdubs shouldn't trust him. After all, he was a villain.
But…but at the same time, it wasn't so bad.
Bdubs had first met Big B several months ago, maybe a whole year now. Maybe more. This was back before Cuteguy had officially become a hero, before the world had turned on its head.
It had been a fight between Hotguy and Cuteguy, and Bdubs, being the only other available hero at the time, had been sent to help. Sent to capture Cuteguy once and for all so the vigilante would stop making the agency look bad.
Of course, Bdubs was great at taking orders. So he’d gone and tried to aid Hotguy in capturing the vigilante, but for some reason, Hotguy was strangely…defensive of the avian. Wouldn't let Bdubs get near him, wouldn't let him shoot him down with his gun.
“Just let me handle him,” Hotguy kept saying, and then he too would intentionally let Cuteguy evade a hit.
It was confusing to watch, to observe. Hotguy was essentially just allowing Cuteguy to win the fight. And maybe he was imagining it, but something about the way they smirked at each other hinted at something more than villain/hero dynamics.
They were…friends.
It was startling to realise. Hotguy was basically fraternizing with the enemy, and he didn't even seem to care. Bdubs had just stood there, mostly useless, watching them “fight”, when a monotone voice suddenly asked behind him, “Strange, isn't it?”
Bdubs had actually jumped, his heart pounding, whipping around to see…someone.
He blinked, unsure. Bdubs was usually very good with people, but he couldn't tell who it was, what with the way they were wearing a mask, but–
But, he realised, they definitely weren't a hero.
Which meant that this was a villain.
Bdubs had immediately fallen into a fighting stance. He eyed the man across from him with hesitance, trying to place him among the villains he knew.
But he didn't know him.
Big B, though at the time Bdubs didn't know his name, simply observed him, head listed to the side in a peculiar sort of way. He was taller than Bdubs by several inches, and he stood leaning back a bit, relaxed. His suit was inky black, a visor tinting his eyes dark. He had warm skin.
Standing there, being observed, for some reason, Bdubs was acutely aware of his own appearance. His suit was black, too, though not as dark as Big B's. His hair was tied back with a red band, and a mask covered his face, keeping his identity hidden. He looked at Bib B’s clear eyes and anxiously ran his tongue over the chip in his tooth.
Big B didn't seem to want to fight him. He walked over to Bdubs, but made no move to attack. Just turned his gaze over and watched Hotguy and Cuteguy on the rooftop across the street, both of them pretending to trade blows. Really, if Bdubs used his ability to look close enough, he could tell they were just talking.
“Strange,” Big B repeated again, still looking out at them. “Right?”
Cautiously, and keeping one eye on his mysterious visitor, Bdubs turned to look at the duo again. As much as he hated to admit it, Big B was right. It was strange the way Hotguy and Cuteguy acted like old friends rather than enemies. Strange didn't really describe it; it was odd.
Big B said, “I've been watching them for a long time. Not just tonight. Over the past months.”
Bdubs didn't know what to say to that. He kept his mouth shut.
After a moment, the villain continued in a murmur, “I don't think Hotguy will ever actually hurt Cuteguy. They're too…close.”
Bdubs had arrived at a similar conclusion, though he had been trying not to think about it. Hotguy was the star of the hero agency; if that was true, he could be torn down immediately. Cast away. Fired.
Maybe even imprisoned.
That wasn't something he wanted to think about. So all Bdubs said was, “Hotguy is doing what's best.”
“Hm. Maybe.” A pause. “Or maybe he’s doing what’s best for himself.”
Bdubs had blinked at that, unsure how to respond. But as it turned out, he didn’t need to form a reply; Big B had faded into the shadows and left without another word.
And that had been that. Afterward, the villain would just…keep turning up in odd places. On the street when Bdubs was walking home from patrol. On rooftops when Bdubs was watching over the city.
They never really fought, Bdubs and Big B. Just sort of…talked. A strenuous relationship, in a way. Something that wasn’t exactly good but wasn’t exactly bad.
Bdubs could never be sure what Big B’s motive was with this. He was an impassive, solemn man most of the time. He spoke exactly what he thought in a way that could make you uncomfortable, and yet, it was impossible to tell what he was thinking when he spoke.
He never gave an answer when Bdubs asked why they were doing this. Allowing themselves to speak, to act casual. To act like Hotguy and Cuteguy. It should have stopped; Bdubs should have stopped it.
But he didn't. Instead, Bdubs allowed it to go on, if only because…he sort of liked it. At least, in a way. It was a change of pace from speaking with the other heroes, who always told you what they thought you wanted to hear. Big B said it how he saw it and that was all.
One day, up on a lonely rooftop in the middle of the night, he told Bdubs simply, “Cuteguy is going to become a hero.”
Bdubs had scoffed, shaking his head swiftly. He hadn’t believed the villain at all. Cuteguy, a hero? The guy was openly and adamantly against the hero headquarters! He would never join!
But Big B had simply raised an eyebrow. He didn’t argue with Bdubs, and he left without speaking again.
(That was another thing Big B did: he never said goodbye. He would just go.
Bdubs pretended that didn’t sting.)
It came as a surprise to Bdubs when, a few months later, there was some sort of fight with Amethyst and her partner.
And wouldn’t you know it? Cuteguy joined the gosh darn agency.
It was crazy to think about, to learn that Big B’s prediction had been right. For his part, the villain had just looked at Bdubs with an expression akin to, I told you so.
Bdubs had shoved him, the first time they had made contact. It felt…natural. It was strange to interact with the villain in such a normal way. If you had told Bdubs a year ago that he would casually talk to someone on the opposite side as him, he would have thought you were crazy.
As it would happen, there he was.
It helped that Big B didn’t really do anything illegal. At least, not like Amethyst and her partner, or Zeus.
No, Big B was more casual, doing petty things like stealing a few times. Getting into small fights with some minor heroes that fizzled into nothing more than a few unpleasant injuries. His name, the Creaking, was born from his ability: making his footsteps so silent that you could hardly hear him when he was walking right by you. It would have been perfect for stealth missions, if the guy ever felt like doing things like that.
For those reasons, Bdubs didn't have to feel as guilty hanging with the man. He told himself that Big B wasn’t that bad, and therefore, being around him wasn’t that bad, either. It was just something he was doing. The hero agency wouldn’t–they wouldn’t care.
If Hotguy could do it, then so could Bdubs.
And what’s more: for some reason, the villain trusted Bdubs. Not all at once, but slowly, Big B came to realise that Bdubs was not going to turn him in. And realising that made him more comfortable.
Comfortable enough, as fate would have it, to tell Bdubs his real name. And then, a week later, to not wear a mask around him.
The first time that had happened, Bdubs had let out a little yell and turned around, slamming his hands over his eyes, his face going beet red. He’d tried to urge Big B to put his mask back on, that this was too far, and please, put it on–
But Big B hadn’t. He never did anything he didn’t want to do, and this was no exception. He just stood there so long and so silent that Bdubs thought he was gone, thought that he had left without saying a word, like he always did.
But when Bdubs turned, there was Big B, his face on display and looking not at all ashamed.
It didn’t stop there. There was a crucial part of his identity he didn’t reveal that night: his address.
However, this mistake was of course quickly mended the following week, where Big B had told Bdubs just that.
It was both terrifying and exhilarating to possess this much information about a villain. Bdubs could so easily betray Big B, could so easily capture him and leave him to rot in jail.
But he wouldn’t do that. And Big B knew he wouldn't do that.
Despite everything, Bdubs had yet to return the show of trust, besides offering the information of solely his first name. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy spending time with Big B, but–
Well, he still didn’t even fully understand what their relationship was. Friends? Enemies? It was difficult to name, and he didn’t think he should be giving out information about himself to someone who might use it to betray him.
Not that he thought Big B would do that. Or, maybe he did.
He didn’t know. It was all so confusing. But he was certain of one thing: it would be suicide to reveal his identity. Not only was it massively against the rules of the agency, but it was also dangerous. If the media somehow got hold of it, then every villain in the city would know, and–
And Bdubs could get attacked. Could die.
He knew these things, had had them drilled into his head ever since he became a hero.
But–but under these circumstances…where he was bleeding from a wound and had nowhere else to go…
Well, what was he supposed to do? He was going to die, and it just so happened that Big B’s apartment was in that building right there, and–and–
And, perhaps against everything, Bdubs did not want to die. The world was a twisted and crooked place, but he wasn’t finished with it yet.
So he took a huge breath, shoving the pain and his inward musings away, gathering as much adrenalin and stamina as he could afford. When he was sure he wasn’t going to fall over, he forced himself forward, ignoring the agony that rushed across him, the way his vision was dotted with black flecks slowly took over.
Stars above, he thought he might pass out.
Gasping, he practically crawled up the steps to the building. He thought that maybe he left a bloody handprint on the door when he sloppily rang the bell, but he wasn’t sure. Everything was murky and difficult to bring into focus.
But he did know that when the door opened, it was to the face of a startled, surprised looking Big B.
“What the–?” the man started, looking at Bdubs as if he didn’t recognise him. But then realisation dawned in his eyes, along with a hefty amount of trepidation. Maybe concern, though it was always so difficult to tell with Big B. “You’re hurt.” It was a fact, not a question.
Bdubs tried to respond. He really did. But all that came out was a ghoulish moan, and instead of stepping into the house like he’d planned to, he sort of collapsed forward. His feet lost all strength, turned to jello beneath him.
Big B caught him before he could fall all the way, strong arms wrapping around a blood-soaked frame. Bdubs looked up to thank the man, but his vision was fading way too fast.
The last thing he heard before he lost consciousness was, “Stupid.”