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Hotguy danced across the rooftops, yelping as he barely missed the lighting strikes of a so-called villain named storm, a young person who had clearly been radicalised by the propaganda the media set out, their age showed that.
The 15-year-old threw a bolt of lightning in hotguy's direction as he winced, realising he would be unable to avoid it, he braced himself for both the blow and the ridicule he would receive from cub later for, "Being so reckless."
A pink and black blur pushed him out of the way as he landed on his back and grunted in pain, "Ow!" he complained, looking up at a tired but amused Cuteguy.
"The so-called invincible hero needs assistance again?" Cuteguy was above him, grinning wildly.
"Well hello there! And yes, thanks for saving me!" Replied hotguy.
"It's not a problem, although I thought you were supposed to be good at this?" Cuteguy teased.
Hotguy opened his mouth to protest but closed it upon hearing another bang.
Turning to look at the noise, Cuteguy put his hand out and pulled hotguy up, grunting," Why is your equipment so heavy?! The government can afford to make it less inconvenient, they have the money for it, my tax money agrees with that." Complained cuteguy, shivering at the mention of the horrendous amount of money he had paid in tax.
"I don't know! I wish they did spend more on making it more lightweight though," Hotguy fidgeted awkwardly before continuing, "They can certainly afford it..."
Cuteguy frowned, letting the weight of hotguy's words settle on him before they heard another crash.
"Hotguy! I'm coming for you! Where are you, you money stealing f-er!"
"And cuteguy, you're next for defending this b-rd!"
Storm yelled erratically, throwing her lightning round recklessly.
Cuteguy frowned as he caught her appearance, "How old is she?" "Injuring a child is a line I don't want to cross," he admitted, "also, what did you do to get her to call you that?"
Hotguy sighed, "You know how the tax rates have increased?"
Cuteguy flinched, "I definitely know about that."
"The poor areas are seeing none of it, people are struggling a lot financially and struggling to afford food and water; then they see me fighting crime- in this expensive armour, while they have nothing. People are clearly angry about it and anti-government propaganda accounts aren't helping." He paused, adding, "I didn't think people would be angry enough to become villains." He admitted miserably.
Cuteguy stared at him hard, causing hotguy to flinch under his gaze.
"How oblivious are you?"
Hotguy flinched again.
"I-" He tried to start.
"We can talk after this." Interrupted cuteguy, disappointment amicable in his gaze, "we've wasted enough time." He muttered, pointing towards storm who was swearing and leaving destruction in their wake.
Hotguy's radio crackled on, "Hotguy! Get out there and detain her! She's caused enough problems!"
Hotguy hesitated as his internal thoughts battled him, before the radio pushed out more yelling, "Go!" Before running towards the direction of the fight with a scowling cuteguy following him.
"You will not imprison and ruin the life of a 15 year over justified rage, I will deal with her." Replied cuteguy, venom in his tone.
"But-" Hotguy tried to protest.
"But nothing." He stared in disappointment at Hotguy and watched him cower under the poison in cuteguys eyes given to him through his rage, "As I said we will be discussing this later." Cuteguy's tone was formal and cold, leaving hotguy wondering exactly what he had said.
Hotguy felt reality slip as his consiness seemed to fall back into his own head frowning he internally cursed, not now! I need to be concentrated, I can't fall into the state again!
Noticing cuteguy and allowing the foreign thoughts that seemed to leach into his mind drift through him as he assumed cuteguy had already done something similar.
He felt the presence skim through his memories upon noticing cuteguy's rage, annoyance and worry spreading through it.
"How did I annoy him that badly?"
"Why did I say all of that?"
"Why do I keep behaving like this?”
As another lightning strike hit Hotguy heard an internal yelp and the decision to go into the odd state further was made, followed by, "I better talk to cub, this getting worse than Usual."
Hotguy felt himself leaving the state and he stumbled as his actions felt like his own once again.
"I agree." Hotguy muttered under his breath, he would take note to follow through with that though.
"Hotguy! The plan!" Cuteguy hissed.
Still disoriented, hotguy frowned opening his mouth before a rush of memories overcame him, right, the plan.
How could he have forgotten about that?
Jumping down, he winced as he felt his leg supporters rattle from the impact, and pulled the decorative net off the shop, ignoring the grumbling of the shop keeper, "Hey! That's going to cost thousands to replace, if you're going to wreck my shop, fund the bloody repairs!"
Swinging the net, hotguy threw it to cuteguy who yelled an apology to the shop keeper then donned it on top of storm, pushing her arms together, rendering her unable to use her power whilst the rest of her limbs got tangled in the net.
She voiced her frustrations clearly.
"Get off me! You f-ing b-ds! How dare you!" She pointed to Hotguy who opened his mouth to argue back, show his authority, until the state took over him again.
Hotguy felt foreign emotions, shame, guilt and disappointment in himself for his behaviour, why would he be disappointed? He was just doing his job.
Hearing a trembling presence and his hands slipping from storm, he reached out to grab her, but his hands fought him, and prevented him from doing so, as he felt himself land on the ground.
A memory slashed through him, another thought that did not feel like his despite him being there for it, shivering and the internal voice whimpering.
"What on earth is wrong with me?! Her ribs were visible for goodness' sake! Really Scar?!"
Shame crept up hotguys spine as he faded back out of the state and saw the judging glares of the people surrounding him as an audible booing sound took over, no sign of storm or cuteguy, why had he let them get away?
"No?! Why did I behave like that in the first place, she deserved mercy!"
Hotguy frowned, the internal battle that seemed to be more common when he entered the state seemed to contradict him heavily today.
"Is that-?"
He winced as an object pushed against his head and he darted over past a building, a thought slipped through his head as he ran, his head turning involuntarily to see something in the corner of his vision.
Cuteguy's feather!
He grinned, time to meet up with him and-
"Apologies for it, and never do it again!"
His internal thoughts flickered.
He did feel ashamed for not seeing the ribs on the young girl, he was partially relieved that the presence had stopped him although his own thoughts nagged at him that she was breaking the law.
"What is this turning me into? I need to fight against whatever is making me so different in the state!"
"Let it take over less."
Hotguy let the thoughts pass, agreeing, although unbeknownst to him, for different reasons altogether, why would he contradict himself so much after all?
Surely other people didn't have this much trouble with their voices?
He should probably ask someone about it-
"Cub!"
Insisted his thoughts, "Not just someone! Cub, he'll understand! Everyone has these voices in their head, cub will understand and help!"
Cub.
Not his greatest idea, although some part of his brain insisted that it was, he noted it down.
Grabbing the feather, he slipped behind the building and hid where the crowd was unable to see him, his watch buzzed with an incoming call, from cub, perfect timing, he thought, the rest of his mind for once agreeing.
He picked up, "Hello there, cub!"
"Where are you Scar? Asked cub worriedly, as Hotguy felt himself feel a disconnect as per usual from his body, and watch as he continued the call from his own eyes, Scar replied, "Just next to the abandoned building near Amber street, I escaped the anger of people by running above here and keeping myself unnoticed by people," he paused worried, "They're so angry cub, and I see why, I can really see, yet this stupid nagging internal monologue is fighting against me all the time, it's incredibly frustrating! I just want to help people rather than follow the law strictly and debate it as morals!"
On the other side of the call Cub winced, intrusive thoughts really weren't helping Scar at all, he clearly hated them, and would get frustrated with them all the time, he heard him talking to them often, quietly mumbling his frustration at them.
Scar clearly needed advice on this as it was impeding on his non-superhero life at this point, even if he'd had the voice as long as he could remember, it needed to be dealt with, it was heavily affecting scar, before he could push it away, these intrusive thoughts that said the opposite of what he thought, despite his protests against them were causing significant distress to him, even saying he felt like he had no control anymore.
Cub hesitated before summoning a reply.
"Push them down," he hesitated before continuing, this was the last idea he had for advice as to help scar with this, especially with how bad his intrusive thoughts had been recently and nothing working.
On the other side scar frowned, although thought, I've tried everything and nothing has worked so far, 13th times the charm?
Finding the presence, Scar concentrated and pushed it down from his head, Hotguy yelped as he felt the usual disconnect, he felt seem to triple as he was pushed into his own head, plunging him in darkness, "What the f*ck!" he yelped internally, as he struggled to push himself back into sight as the world materialised around him, he frowned as a disorientated presence allowed himself to recuperate.
"Did I just swear? "
"Yeah, I did." He muttered to seemingly no one, not noticing a slam on the rooftop next to him announcing cuteguy's arrival.
Cuteguy still looked incredibly unimpressed by his actions, and he yelped as he felt himself disconnect again and an eager force take hold of his mind.
"Cuteguy!" He saw himself yelling, as he bolted over and opened his mouth to apologise, before he realised what he was doing and snapped it shut again,
Of course, then the disconnect took over and he was saying things he'd never say.
"Cuteguy I'm so sorry!" He watched himself ramble, "I don't know what came over me, I felt the stupid disconnection I feel in fights and then just the knowledge I had done it, you're right, I'm oblivious and I'm sorry I've been awful lately I don't know why I've been behaving this way I feel like it's not me at all and it's starting to pop up outside of fights!"
Cuteguy frowned, sceptical at the current change of behaviour analysed his words and noticed something out of place.
"I'm glad you've stopped being so oblivious," he admitted, "you've never been great behaving like a propagandic fool around the reporters or incredibly arrogant during fights, but it does seem to have got much worse lately." He paused as hotguy reached his hand over to shake it, as a way of asking for cuteguy's forgiveness.
Cuteguy swatted it away, "No. As I said, I'm glad you aren't behaving obliviously anymore but I'm still not impressed by the way you acted, I agree you've been much worse recently on being a nice person."
Hotguy opened his mouth to talk, however cuteguy stopped him, "A question," he replied, "What do you mean by a disconnection in fights?"
Hotguy's blood turned to ice as he felt combined terror slip through the disconnect.
"I thought that was normal." He watched himself reply as he pushed desperately to break the disconnect.
Breaking past the mental barrier, hotguy gasped as he pulled himself through the disconnect, feeling the world come around him as terror laced his heart.
“What do you mean what’s the disconnect in fights?” He asked, desperation evident over his face, “Isn’t that normal?!” “Don’t you have that?!”
Cuteguy frowned, thrown by the sudden erratic actions of his friend, however continued answering, “I... I don’t get that Hotguy.”
“That isn’t normal.”
Hotguy visibly flinched as the words echoed through his head and he stood up, backing away from cuteguy, “You are messing with me,” he paused at cuteguy’s unamused, potentially fearful face, “Surely, you’re messing with me, you’re messing with me, cuteguy? Cuteguy?”
Cuteguy flinched, “Hotguy... Hotguy, I’m not, you can be arrogant sometimes- a lot of the time, but I wouldn’t lie to you about something like that. I promise.”
Hotguy was seething, something else to make him seem unusual to society, great.
Cuteguy put a hand out, slowly for Hotguy to grab it, "Do you want to talk about it?” Cuteguy asked hesitantly, if Hotguy wasn’t feeling disconnected at that time, he would have yelled and pulled his hand back, but he watched himself hesitate and lean forward to take it.
“No!”
He yelled internally and watched as his body finally started listening to his thoughts, even if he didn’t feel in control, even if there was confusion not coming from him.
Scar felt a passive influence on his mind as he reached out to take Cuteguy’s hand as he pulled it back slightly, “No thanks.” He mumbled nervously, “I’ll go home,” Scar shivered as he recalled the last few minutes, “I’m so sorry for that,” he swallowed, “I have no idea what happened to me when you mentioned it wasn’t normal, the disconnect pushed.”
“Is it always like that?” Asked cuteguy warily.
“More than usual,” he replied, adding in a mumble under his breath that was barely coherent, “much more than usual.”
“I-“ He hesitated, he wanted to stay with cuteguy and talk about it, however something in his head screamed at him to leave, “I’ll go home, although thank you for offering that opportunity for me.”
“Alright,” replied cuteguy, “Don’t get yourself killed, maybe we could talk about this when you’re not in and out of that arrogant trance.”
“Good idea,” replied Scar, “Where’d you want to meet?”
“We can plan it at the time,” explained Cuteguy, “We can’t exactly put the odd trance on a schedule.”
“Ask whatever demon is possessing me take a break?” He joked.
Cuteguy snorted, “Yeah that.”
The tugging on Scar’s instinct to leave seemed stronger and he flinched, noticing cuteguy observing him as the trance attempted to rein over his body again, “Nope.” He muttered to himself, waving goodbye to a puzzled but clearly deep in thought cuteguy, as Scar bolted across the rooftops, falling into feeling like hotguy, falling into the trance.
“Demons begone?” He asked internally and left with no response, “No demons then,” he muttered jokingly.
Slipping into the feeling of running again and pushing down odd waves of panic, he frowned as he felt the disconnect dissolve, and he felt like he was the one running again.
Grinning he slipped out of his hotguy suit and laid on the bed, relaxing as he felt himself doze off, to exhausted to note the presence pushing past his conciseness' for control.
_____________________________________
Hotguy had slipped in, gasping as he took over, feeling no other presences in his head, he skimmed over the events of what he had missed, he was running, he was definitely running across rooftops as he remembered it was him doing it exactly, not in a trance, him.
Cuteguy had offered to talk with him and in his trance, he had almost stupidly agreed, however he had pulled against that foreign will and got himself to do something that was somewhat his bidding- why did he act like that so often now anyway, that wasn’t him at all.
Attempting to pull himself off the bed, hotguy flinched as he couldn’t move his legs and shivered, noticing his reflection in the mirror, it sort of looked like him, sort of, however he more so perceived himself as his superhero persona, the way that Scar looked, his university work persona, he supposed, looked and dressed much differently, acted more mature as well, Hotguy as well, hotguy- himself, he felt much more like himself as Hotguy, Dressed completely differently, liked loud bashing colours, much differently to his university persona, who dressed in a light academic way, even if he couldn’t dress fully in his usual style at work, for the sake of professionalism or whatever it was.
As hotguy, he was able to dress showing off, jewellery scattered across his face- not how scar would place it, much better in ways of fighting.
He felt so much like himself, in like how he would in his trance.
Him in his trance acted so plainly, so boring, if he was in his trance consistently, he wouldn’t have become hotguy, that’s for sure.
Hauling himself to the edge of the bed, hotguy pulled on his hotguy boots and kicked his legs against end of it, pondering over the night when he wasn’t feeling disconnected, he supposed the trance had helped him calm down a little.
Why would cuteguy lie to him about that?
Everyone had an internal voice, and had the disconnect, hotguy had had that all the time, the disconnect only becoming less common after he began to train to become hotguy.
Walking over to his desk, he grabbed a pen and walked back over to the bed continuously spinning the pen as he sat down, yawning he laid back into the bed, letting sleep take him.
_________________________________________________________________________________
Scar awoke, wincing in pain as he felt electricity sparking him, he groaned, his hotguy boots?
Cub was going to kill him, and since when was he wearing those?
Scrolling through his memories he found the answer, he had had some late-night contemplation, odd decision as he was going to be discussing it with cuteguy later on, but his midnight fuelled decisions, even after he had technically left young adulthood, seemed to still be unpredictable, they just felt less like his.
Scar yelped at the sound of his second alarm going off, and padded to it, shoving the thought down for later and getting ready to teach.
Wheeling out of his apartment, he headed down to the lift, feeling something waking up in his head, something about midnight regrets, yep that made sense; as he descended down the floors, his usual routine of the barrage of daily questions that seemed to appear flooding through his head and him half-awake answering them.
Reaching the bottom of the apartment block and heading in the direction of the school he breathed in the fresh air and sighed, stretching his arms and getting ready to wheel his way to work, despite something in his head complaining it was boring, Scar squashed the protests and happily headed to work.
At the sound of hotguy leaving, Grian sat on the building alone and let out a sigh, Hotguy when he was acting off hadn’t scared him before, although he did then, he had never seen him so desperate and terrified, it was unusual, when not fighting or talking to paparazzi, hotguy was pretty levelheaded, despite his occasional bouts of arrogance.
So what had caused that reaction?
And what was the disconnect that Hotguy had talked about?
Grian did vaguely remember him mentioning this before, after he noticed hotguy was being pretty arrogant during a fight so he confronted him about it, hotguy making an immature joke about the fight, but then quickly cutting himself off and apologising, saying that sometimes he felt a disconnect from himself which made him act in a way that wasn’t him.
Grian thought it was weird but brushed it off as a one time occurrence, considering he was new to vigilantism and it was one of his first fights with hotguy, so he didn’t know him well enough to pin anything on as unusual, but as of more recently, these bouts of behaviour seemed to be more and more common, perhaps it was a demon just getting better at possessing hotguy like Grian had joked about?
Most likely not, although it was on the table.
There was a lot that he had gathered on the odd bouts of behaviour over the years, more so as they had become more common recently and it was like had a bunch of puzzle pieces, he just had to fight them together correctly.
Pulling out a search engine on his phone, cuteguy sighed as he realised he couldn’t get a signal due to the signal tower being destroyed by Storm in the fight.
It looked like he was going to have to ask mumbo about him, the fight had probably knocked out most people’s connections to the internet considering how destructive it was due to the nature of Storms powers.
Stretching his wings, making effort to not trip over them again, he slipped off the building and flew home, promising to ask mumbo in the morning as that fight and the aftermath had taken longer to deal with than expected, plus he had an exam to examine tomorrow, he winced, that was going to be a brutal three hours.
Pushing off, he allowed the wind to take him as he went airborne, the breeze ruffling his feathers and the city becoming tiny dots below him, as he soared, watching the shadows of the city that he was in flight above.
Below him, the lights shone, and gleamed, making one of the richer areas of the city visible, easy to find threats in those lights-although the poorer areas were shrouded in darkness each night, putting helpless people, who would much benefit from superheroic assistance that the rich got, received little to none.
Bristling at the sight sympathy surged through him as he passed on his way back home, there was another vigilante down there thankfully as Grian felt he would most likely lose a confrontation due to his exhaustion.
Swooping down to a lightly lit area of the city, he quietly slipped down to the window of mumbo’s apartment, and tapped on it, the secret “let me in-” signal as mumbo had put it, three long knocks on the window.
Footsteps arrived and he saw mumbo’s figure run to get it open, Grian pulled through the open window, wincing as his wings caught on it.
Mumbo hissed in sympathy, “You alright mate?” He frowned, “Surely there’s a better way to arrive in here that isn’t the window.”
Grian groaned as he pulled his way through. “Ow.” He muttered, “I agree with that mumbo, but I’ve looked, there’s nowhere safe to be able to arrive up here that’s not through that, as uncomfortable as it is.”
“Mumbo?”
Mumbo turned to answer, “What is it?”
Grian started, “You’ve lived-“ he cut himself off as mumbo gave him a look, “Sorry- died? No that wouldn’t work...”
“Existed.” Supplied mumbo, as Grian gave him an apologetic look.
“You’re a vampire,” Grian continued, “and you’ve li- existed for over 500 years, the internet is down right now mumbo so I need to use the mumbo encyclopaedia.”
Mumbo chuckled, and raised an eyebrow, “That’s what we’re calling my life experience?”
Pulling his mask off, Grian grinned, “Yep.”
“Well then ask away!” Replied mumbo, “please don’t ask completely random questions though, we don’t need a repeat of how much you asked after finding out I was a vampire.”
“No promises!” Yelled Grian, grinning.
Mumbo frowned, “And keep your voice down!” He dropped to a whisper, “It’s quite late.”
Grian reduced his volume significantly before sheepishly continuing the conversation, “Sorry.”
“Mumbo encyclopedia?” Asked Grian, as mumbo snorted at the name, “What question do you want to ask grain?”
Laughed mumbo, as he watched half joking offense cross Grians face.
“Hey!” He protested as mumbo chuckled in amusement.
“The question is,” He replied, “have you ever seen a situation where a person seems to have multiple sides to them?”
“Like a persona?” Questioned mumbo, frowning as he considered the options.
“Sort of, however when they take on the persona it makes them act differently, and they don’t know why, they just do things without realising and then regret it,” frowning, Grian added, “they also feel disconnected when they act off.”
Mumbo raised his eyebrow, “Is this about Hotguy?”
Startled, Grian flinched before replying, “How did you figure that out?”
Shrugging mumbo answered, “I have my ways.”
“What ways?!” Yelled an exasperated Grian, “I swear you’re a mind reader Mumbo.” He grumbled.
“I’ve li- oh now I'm making your mistake, oh gosh!“ Grian snorted as mumbo gave him a look and opened his mouth to continue, “I’ve- existed for five hundred years, my social skills aren’t exactly on par, considering it’s changed a lot within the last five hundred years- keeping up isn’t easy! However, you learn to read people well over time, and you spend half your life talking about either Scar or Hotguy and it had to be one of them!”
An embarrassed but partially knowing look went over Grian's face as he bit his lip in frustration, through gritted teeth and a tomato red face, much to Mumbo’s amusement, replied, “Do you have any answers then Mumbo?!”
Stifling down a poorly disguised laugh Mumbo fidgeted nervously, “Well you see...”
“Mumbo!” Yelled Grian in frustration, “Did you really have to say all of that to tell me you don’t know?”
Mumbo snorted, the laugh he was holding back finally escaping him, “You looked like a tomato, “he pointed out, “It was amusing.”
Somehow, Grian seemed even more offended, Mumbo just started wheezing from laughter as Grian served him with a dirty look.
“Also, mumbo?”
Mumbo scrabbled for a grip on his laughter and when he finally was able to receive it, he replied, “Yes?”
“How do you not know?!” Yelled Grian, “You know almost everything, how has someone who’s lived 500 years never seen anything like this? “
“You forget the almost,” he pointed out, “I’ve lived 500 years, yes, but that doesn’t mean there’s things I've never seen before, including hotguy’s circumstance, very interesting.” He frowned, clearly lost in his own thoughts, as he mumbled under his breath, skimming quietly through situations that could help him figure this out that he had inscribed in memory. For a moment he paused, and he turned to Grian, who’s expression lit up upon seeing Mumbo’s thoughtful face turn to him, usually a sign he had figured the question out.
“Why don’t you use google?” In quested mumbo, and Grian's eager face flopped into a frown again.
Opening his phone, he pushed the screen on and showed it to Mumbo, revealing the lack of Wifi or data whilst mumbo gave him a puzzled look.
“The fight with storm.” Explained Grian, and mumbo’s confusion seemed to calm down.
“How long do you reckon it’ll be down for?” Asked Mumbo, worry starting to perpetuate across his features, he frowned “I have a class to teach, and work to give online.”
Grian scoffed, “They’ll be fine Mumbo, besides, if you’re that worried about them missing work, give work to them in physical sheets of paper, or don’t, they’ll probably party about it if you don’t give them work due to the power outage, besides! You can use the time you would be using to give them work to think on the hotguy situation!”
“You have a point actually,” replied mumbo, “For once,” he sniggered as a web of offense coated its way across Grian's face, “Hotguy’s situation is rather interesting, I must say, something almost new to find after 500 hundred years, I’ve definitely seen something similar a few times, however the people involved were burned for being witches because of it, or married off to not become a problem for apparently speaking out of line, Hotguy is the first case where I can study it without being threatened under potential accusations of witchcraft.
Upon hearing Mumbo’s reply Grian flinched and paled considerably, trying to reassure him, Mumbo continued, “Don’t worry! Hotguy will be fine! Nobody has spotted anything unusual about him yet!” Mumbo added, “To everyone, he’s just the cities number one hero! And nothing else.” Shivering he continued, “At least witch hunters don’t exist anymore.”
Grian’s expression darkened, “Witch hunters, “he mumbled under his breath whilst frowning, “They may not exist anymore, but I know who will come after him if the press starts finding out something is different with him.”
“Who?” Mumbo asked hesitatingly.
“The agency, Hotguy is supposed to be their golden boy, and if something potentially taints that image- if it’s because of his struggles-”
Mumbo swallowed, “They’ll try to fix him.” He finished.
Shoving his mask back onto his face, Grian scrambled for the window, “I’ve got to find hotguy.”
Poising himself to jump from the window and pulling out his wings ready to soar, grain felt himself pulled back by a solid grip on his arm and at the end of that arm, Mumbo held fast.
Yelping in frustration, Grian tried to pull away from him, only to be stuck, stuck looking at Mumbo’s concerned face as he viewed his watch, “Grian.”
“I need to find him!” gasped Grian in protest, as he fought against Mumbo’s grip, a wave of exhaustion taking over him as he swayed dangerously near the edge of the window.
“Grian. Look at me.”
Sighing, Grian turned his head away from the darkness below to face Mumbo, who was radiating concern.
“Grian you’ve been on patrol for four hours, “he pointed out, “This doesn’t include being a teacher! You’ve been working for nearly 12 hours! Hotguy won’t be in danger this very second and you can’t help him on zero hours of sleep, it’s 10pm Grian, you’ve been out on patrol since 6, you’ll have no luck finding hotguy at this time of night without a planned meetup, just rest Grian, please.”
Grian winced and pulled away from the window, realising just how tired he actually was, a sleepy chirp slipped out, and mumbo chuckled in amusement as Grian yawned, then opened his mouth to begrudgingly admit, “You’re right, but I'm going out first thing tomorrow to look for hotguy before work, understood?”
“Understood.” Assured Mumbo, knowing full well that he was going to allow Grian to sleep through his alarm so that he did not collapse at work, the last thing he needed right now, especially with all of the anti-hybrid laws pressing down upon them, it would put him at extreme risk, and mumbo couldn’t have that, despite Grian's worries he did need to take care of himself sometimes as well.
Slipping into bed, he braced himself for Grian's frustration the next morning, he would understand, eventually, and let darkness envelop him as he drifted off to the realms of sleep.
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Wheeling into the building with much effort due to the lack of accessible features, Scar frowned upon finding the chaos, confusion emanating from both consciences in his head.
Then he noticed Cleo, urgently wheeling over to where she stood clearly trying to look panicked with a poor attempt at mirroring the expression of the management.
“Well hello there Cleo!” Scar announced as he approached her, “What’s going on to make the management look stressed? And why do you look incredibly happy about it?
Cleo jolted at Scar’s remark, “You can tell I'm pleased about it?”
“You aren’t hiding it well Cleo.” Scar admitted with an amused smirk, “What is going on? I haven’t seen management this stressed since the incident!”
Cleo snorted at that one, “Where vulture climbed onto the roof and Hotguy fell off trying to pursue him?
Scar flinched at the reminder of his failure that day, falling off the roof of a school- no the school he taught at in front of all of his students was beyond embarrassing, let alone that cub wouldn’t let it go, he seemed to despise remembering it as Hotguy, despite easily laughing about it in his civilian life.
His thoughts flickered again, as annoyance surfed through some part of his conciseness, something internally groaned, “No! Don’t bring that up! Improve your conversation skills Hotguy!”
Scar instantly shoved the thoughts down away from his main thoughts, following Cub’s advice from before to push the thoughts down, he heard a startled yelp before the unwanted thoughts finally disappeared, and he internally breathed a sigh of relief, if they could disappear for just one day it could make his life a whole lot easier, hopefully this would work.
Evident frustration and unwanted confusion slipped through him and he had to fight to stay in charge of his actions and not be a passenger to his?- his own confusing actions.
Cleo clearly noticed the internal battle and her face fell as she observed scar.
Frowning she asked, “Are you ok?”
As he voices inside Scar’s head screamed at him to lie, he battled it with his own protests but eventually surrendered to it, “I’m doing just fine! He responded, almost too positively, Cleo gave him an odd look and filed it away into her head to think about later, along with the library of information she already had on Scar when he was acting like this, which had grown almost expediently recently, it connected to something, Cleo knew it did, she just couldn’t quite grasp what was wrong with scar, and why it had got worse within the last couple of months.
Scar replying snapped her out of her daze, “What’s going on to make everyone so stressed? Not another Hotguy incident?”, he joked, attempting to put on a veil of cheerfulness that he hoped was thick another for Cleo to not spot the truth, he really didn’t feel like being interrogated on this right now, even if he usually didn’t mind if he felt like himself, something in his brain was pulling him away from that concept, a pushing consistent voice telling him that he needed to stay undercover, to not admit his feelings- more consistent since his hotguy duties had slowly seeped into his daily life.
Cleo frowned, Scar winced hoping she hadn’t seen through his disguise while the voice shrieked, “Why won’t I leave? Come on Hotg- Scar.”
“At work". Scar thought internally, “I need to keep professional.”
Despite the fighting against him, it finally slowed and he was able to return to his conversation without fear of feeling disconnected, opening his ears to listen to Cleo’s reply.
“So, do you know about the fight last night with Hotguy and cuteguy?” She asked, checking if Scar was aware of the context.
Scar put on a grin as the unease earlier flicked out, “Yes! What happened there to cause this mess?
Cleo snorted on the emphasis of the last word and found her reply, “They struck the signal tower, leaving us all without Wi-Fi or data in this area, quite unfortunate- for everyone else. It means we get a few days without having to grade virtual work!” She grinned, leaning against the wall, stretching her arms and yawning, “No more late nights for a while!”
“I’m using the extra time to sleep, I certainly need it, especially with exams practice in a month,” she pointed to Scar, “You should really get some more sleep too, you haven’t been seeming your- usual self lately.”
A powerful urge to defend himself came through his head and he yelped as he fought against it, looks like it was going to be one of those days, he thought, as he concentrated on flattening the emotion, and the other side of his conciseness that came with it.
He sighed and got ready to wheel to his classroom as another wave of annoyance slid through him, “I’m fine Cleo!” he insisted.
“Are you sure?” Cleo frowned as she walked towards him, he flattened another wave of annoyance that seemed to be alien to others, but not him, “No it’s not-”
Scar shoved the thought- the voice down as soon as he could, putting on a forced smile of fearful deception, “I’m fine Cleo.” He insisted, waving her worries away, and quickly looking down to his watch, “Oh! Look at that,” he grinned sheepishly, “Class time! In 15 minutes, I need to set something up! Bye Cleo!”
“Scar-” she started to yell, only to see Scar hurriedly wheel himself around the corner and he was gone.
Sighing, she slumped down onto the floor and let her thoughts wonder, at least she may have got another piece to the puzzle in potentially helping Scar, he seemed to be acting in a way that resembled that she had heard of from teenage Scar, defensive and nervous, especially about feelings, it only seemed to improve when Scar hit 17 apparently, maybe he could be an age regressor who has trouble with slipping into littlespace uncontrolled?
Maybe.
However, it didn’t seem to match the other pieces of the puzzle she had managed to uncover, she sighed, the idea of simply asking scar again had gone extremely wrong then, who in this school could place the puzzle pieces she had been gathering?
Most people knew Scar well enough, perhaps she could ask one of his friends? The thought had occurred before.
But who would be able to place the puzzle pieces she had so meticulously gathered but could not for the life of her, figure out?
Grian potentially?
He was the closest out of Scars friends to him classroom wise, so he might know more, however he was most likely to tell Scar about Cleo’s worries, and she did not want another confrontation like that again, they needed to know what was happening with Scar to figure out how to help him before approaching a conversation on it again, frowning she looked through the teacher list, who would be analytical enough to piece the clues together, is a friend of Scars and believed at this point an intervention was probably required? Scar hadn’t seemed well for the past 3 months and at this point she suspected an intervention would be required before things took a predictable turn for the worse.
Who filled that criteria?
Cleo opened her phone and scrolled through the teachers list, skipping past names until one caught her eye, Mumbo.
A teacher of Redstone, who had to be incredibly careful and analytical, due to his job as teaching Redstone, if you weren’t observant enough, could result in toxic gas or explosions.
He was also a friend of Scars who had voiced his concerns to him 2 months ago, Scar had dismissed it and quickly tried to excuse himself, like he had done just now, Mumbo in a panic had pushed his point, as Cleo had done and Scar yelled- in a way that was so incredibly unscar-like.
Many apologies were shared that day but both Cleo and Mumbo shared a different worry, why were Scar’s actions there so Alien, so unlike him, the others agreed with that, but why did Cleo and potentially Mumbo, from the way his eyes glanced over at Scar after he had yelled, think that Scar may have agreed with them all.
With all of these pieces Cleo could swear that she was incredibly close to the answer but couldn’t quite just put her finger on it.
Pulling herself up and grabbing her bag, Cleo checked the time and headed to her classroom, ready to teach her biology class, she would be having a conversation with Mumbo about this when she got some time to do so, thankfully, with the internet issues she might be able to talk to Mumbo sooner than she usually would be able to.
_________________________________________________________________________________
Scar gasped as he fled around the corner and out of Cleo’s sight, what was that behaviour?
Groaning as embarrassment but an odd sense of relief slipped through him, he began to wheel to his classroom, drenched in guilt, Cleo had wanted to help, which he was completely fine with, he really did need to talk to at least someone about this!
But the thoughts in his head- the intrusive ones- the oh so alien ones, fought him again!
He sighed, putting his head in his hands and trailing forward miserably, he owed Cleo an apology for whatever that mess was.
“...Just like with Mumbo.”
“Shut up.” Scar muttered to himself, and the isolated hallway around him- one of the only accessible ones in the entire building, it really didn’t help how misunderstood one part of him often felt, thoughts from nights where he could have sworn he fell asleep drifted through his head and he flinched as he allowed himself to get lost in there, reminders of his actions appearing around him.
His own regrets filled him, and he mumbled internally, “Sorry Mumbo, Sorry Cleo.”
“Sorry.”
Agreed his internal voice, Scar relaxed now it seemed to have calmed and wasn’t fighting him, falling into the disconnection, it was so easy to do, just to let go and arrive with the memories that were his- but didn’t feel like him.
A sudden jolt spooked him out of his daze and he yelped, conciness returning to the surface as he subtly dislodged something pushing against him returning.
Then he was faced with a very nervous looking- and to add to that- clearly irritated Grian.
Trying to hide his own nervousness of the events of the day so far- “and last night!” his brain reminded him un-usefully as scar tucked that thought away.
“Well hello there Grian!” Scar put on a false grin, trying to seem more enthusiastic than he felt, “How are you doing today? I don’t often see you here!”
The side path to both of their classrooms was dingy and quiet, only used by Scar for access or Grian or Mumbo if they wanted to avoid people or walk with Scar; Scar internally frowned, Grian must not be having a great day either.
Grian hesitated “I-”
“I wanted to go and see a friend I was worried about,” he confessed, “Mumbo was worried I was over working myself- especially because I have more going on that I don’t talk about, to many other people, just mumbo really, and he found out on accident. Mumbo cancelled my alarm- he was scared I was going to collapse, Mumbo scared, and to make Mumbo- mumbo levels of scared he probably did have good reasons for it, but-” he sighed, “I’m pretty worried about that friend.”
Upon scanning Grian's appearance Scar noted something unusual in the other man’s appearance.
“Before looking after other people Grian, you have to be able to help them yourself and that includes rest, “He paused sheepishly, “I didn’t learn that in the best way possible- so don’t make that mistake Grian!”
“It’s fine Scar!” Grian insisted, “I’ll be fine! I can operate under minimal sleep knowing I’m able to help people! What’s missing out on a few hours of it?”
“No offense Grian, but you look- “messy?” Scar batted the voice in his head away and frowned, “Err... how do I say this in a nice way... Not great Grian.”
“It’s not that bad!” Grian protested, before Scar pointed behind him, glancing at his unkempt wings, “Are you flying to meet them? Because Grian, did you not think of your wings in this situation?”
Wincing, Grian checked behind himself and hissed in discomfort as a scrap of leaf pulled against the feathers, Scar reached towards it, looking at Grian for silent permission, he nodded, and Scar pulled the feather as Grian let out a sigh of relief.
“That’s much better,” he mumbled, “Thanks Scar.”
Scar beamed, “No problem, Grian!” he paused, “Although you should probably preen those.”
Grian flinched, looking at the state of them, “You have a point.” he admitted sheepishly, holding out the books he had in his hands to Scar, “Can you bring those to my classroom? I should get my wings clean so that I can actually fly to meet my friend, rather than being grounded due to the state of my wings.”
“Of course!” Scar beamed, picking the books up from Grian’s hands and tossing them into a bag beside his wheelchair.
“Room 28?” Asked Scar.
Grian rolled his eyes in response, “You knew that.” He muttered under his breath in partial amusement.
“Just making sure! I wouldn’t want to get lost on the way!” Announced Scar.
“You’re room thirty!” Yelled Grian with a joking tone, “How would you get lost? You’ve worked here for seven years!”
Scar paused and gestured to himself, “Grian. I’m Scar goodtimes, is anything like that impossible with how I am?”
Grian snorted, stiffening as his feathers brushed against more things stuck in his wings, frowning he pushed himself up and headed in the direction of the staff room, waving goodbye to Scar and leaving a last pleasantry, “I’m going to preen these,” he explained, “Please don’t get lost on the way to the classroom, I don’t know how someone who do it but you do make a good point that it’s you off all people and that would be possible.”
“I’ll ensure that these are safe on the scar express!” Grinned Scar, “Bye Grian!”
“And don’t somehow drop them everywhere! Hotguy already made a mess of them, I don’t need you doing that too!”
A bored voice flickering about Scar’s mind, watching through his eyes, perked up at the mention of it, and Scar felt amusement run through his conciness as he began to disconnect and subconsciously reached for the bag that held the work of Grian's students.
Then a yelp overtook him as the disconnect snapped away upon Grian's words, “I mean it Scar!”
Restabilising himself in his wheelchair after the shock had caused him to slip in it, he guiltily looked Grian in the eye, who looked both amused and surprised.
“I trust you!” Grian yelled, “Don’t do it again!” before the door to the staffroom closed as Grian entered it, ruffling his feathers.
Scar chuckled to himself before pushing away, why did he do things like that when feeling disconnected?
It was like he was acting like a child.
Odd.
Shrugging, he wheeled away from Grian’s classroom, headed across the hallway to his own, he had work to mark a way, despite some part of him which weakly protested over the task, he quickly pushed it away, ignoring it as usual, if he always listened to it, he would never get anything done!
As he approached his desk, he opened the drawer and signed, definitely one thing he agreed with that annoying part of his subconscious, marking was boring and he wanted out.
Shaking his head, he pulled out the papers, grabbing a pen from the desk and beginning the tedious task, even despite the part of his subconscious screaming about boredom.
Quickly he fell into a rhythm, humming a tune under his breath as he sat going through tests, the humming helping assist his boredom.
30 papers later, scar leaned against the back of his wheelchair and muttered to himself in frustration, 30 papers down, 70 to go, why did he choose this as his day job again?
Scar yelped in surprise as new figure appeared at his door, unfamiliar fear froze him to his wheelchair as some part of him screamed at him to run, and hide, and lie about how he was; the presence stood at the door was no one but Cleo and Mumbo, followed by an irritated Grian.
“Scar!” yelled Grian, running towards him, as Scar forced himself to relax; pushing his subconscious down despite feeling a wave of confusion flow through the back of his mind as he felt his mind become quiet for the first time in forever, relief flowed through him, even if the back of his mind he fought against began screaming at him once again, happiness flowed through him, finally he had found a way to supress the voice, and just in time as well, now he could interact with his friends without suffering an anxiety attack.
“Well hello there Grian!” he greeted, smiling openly as Grian bounded towards him, running across the classroom.
“Scar I've made decisions!” yelled Grian, as amusement flowed through Scar, at least his friends wings no longer looked dishevelled, he mused; however, Grian making “Decisions” usually did not end well.
Amused, Scar smirked, “What kind of decisions?”
Grian groaned, placing his head on his hands; “Scar I have 200+ papers to grade!” He complained, “I’m so behind on work!”
Snorting Scar turned to reply however at Grian's offended look sniggered, “oh Grian,” he shook his head, “How do you end up in situations like this?”
“I don’t know!” Grian wined, “I just know I'm in trouble!”
“Is that why your wings were so dishevelled this morning?” Scar joked; however, he could swear that Mumbo jumped, and Grian's face turned considerably pale.
Odd, he thought to himself.
However quickly dismissed it when Grian fell into the conversation, interjecting with a question, “Do you want to go to the cafe?” He quickly asked.
Mumbo facepalmed in the background and Cleo sniggered.
“Grian?” She asked, smiling, “Don’t you still have over 200 papers to mark?”
Grian’s face turned to disbelief as he groaned, shoving his head into his palms again.
“I need a break.” He muttered, the sound muffled by his hands.
Scar shook his head, “Well Grian!” He grinned, “I accept your invite! I need a break as well; I’m on 100 total papers to mark and I'm 30 in!”
Flaring his wings behind him in a rare show of excitement, Grian grinned, turning to Cleo and Mumbo, “Are you coming?”
Both turned to each other, glancing at Scar and nodding.
“We’ll join you!” Yelled Cleo excitedly, suspiciously, one part of him thought, but yes, excitedly.
Mumbo turned to walk in the direction of the cafe, before yelping and tripping over his feet, snorting, Grian ran to help him up as Cleo raised an eyebrow, shaking her head and furrowing her eyebrows.
As Grian helped him up, he shook his head, “You absolute spoon!” He yelled at an embarrassed Mumbo, who was brushing the dirt off his suit awkwardly, “you’ve lived now for what? Fi-” Mumbo cut him off with a death glare and continued, “Fifty years! I know Grian! That was a spoon thing to do!”
Grian turned to face Mumbo, eyes giving a clear silent apology as Scar watched on in confusion, looking at Cleo, he expected to see the same things, only for surprise to jolt through him as she was watching Mumbo, eyes wide in shock, almost like she had just had an epitome.
Tension began to flood the room around him as Scar watched Cleo, frowning, she would look like Mr one, if she continued that way.
Clearing his throat, a confused Scar turned to look at his friends, who quickly jolted to their prior positions, even if Cleo still looked a little shocked, and hesitantly continued the conversation, “So cafe then?” he asked cautiously as his friends jumped back into action, placing the light masks that they seemed to have had on their own demeanour earlier, unnoticeable, Scar bit his lip as he waited for his mind to protest, to scream at him, to do any of the argumentative things that it had been doing, yet his subconscious, his thoughts and mind just replied with silence, scar bristled, it felt odd and lonely, quiet, even if he had hated the constant fighting, the constant power struggle before, he was now for the first time in years, the only one in his mind, or at least he felt that, yet it felt wrong; as he grabbed the wheelchair, Scar felt something murk in his conciness, and wild fear; then memories that did not belong to him, Scar yelped as he felt himself be the one that was plunged into darkness.
Now he felt entirely disconnected from his body, he fought and fought against the presence pushing him down, scrabbling, fighting against his own mind against whatever else was in it, he froze, his blood turning to ice, was there something- no someone, his mind corrected himself, inside of his head that wasn’t him.
As his mind had said, he really needed to talk to cub and find out what on earth was going on with his mind, and what was wrong with him, Cuteguy was right, that wasn’t normal.
Although it was his normal so surely, he had to be right.
Right?
A sudden plunge awoke him as a hand on his shoulder was placed down, he was sat on his wheelchair in the cafe, when had he got there again?
Just a bad dream, he reminded himself, just a worry, he remembered going to the cafe, so he was just overthinking, he was here it was just him.
Just him.
His mind echoed, yet doubt swirled around in it, No one else is here, it’s just me, breathe, hotguy.
Scar swallowed, just him, and he knew that.
Familiar faces appeared around him as he felt his breathing slow down, he was having a panic attack, since when.
He whirled around to meet Grian’s concerned eyes facing him.
“...Scar?” He asked cautiously, as Scar’s worries leaked out of him, reaching a hand out, he grabbed Grian’s jumper and sobbed into it, guess the worries he had been so heavily masking had got to him for months, as had the presence, thinking that it was something else, was insane, after all, the pitch black was just his own head, just him going into a panic attack.
“What happened?” he choked out, why was he crying? How had he gone from walking to the cafe to sobbing in there? He traced across the memories trying to find the origins of it, he remembered going to the cafe, getting irritated at Mumbo and Cleo, yet then it stopped, like something was pushing against him from remembering what had happened, perfect memories, until boom, blank.
In the back of his head, hotguy was making a certain realisation, “Surely not.” he choked out to himself, he wasn’t the only one in his head, his conciness, whatever he had called in professional teaching mode.
What the hell had caused this?
And how could he fix it?
In the meantime, as Scar hesitantly asked, “What happened?”
Mumbo and Cleo turned to each other, of the same mind, and gasped, something clicking in their heads, as Grian threw them a confused but distressed look, an epitome flew through their minds.
While Scar was living in sweet obliviousness, the memories locked away by hotguy; hotguy processed this frightening realisation, there were two of them.
Two beings, one body, the voice wasn’t an impostor, it was a part of this body as well, no wonder Hotguy was thrown off by most of his antics as Scar, because he wasn’t roleplaying, he wasn’t Scar, now how was he supposed to figure out what was happening, deal with it, be hotguy (because clearly Scar was not up to the task) and figure out how to get help.
All that Scar felt was the terror of locked memories, mumbo and Cleo clearly hiding an epitome from him; Grian incredibly stressed due to helping him; an intense wave of distress passed through a panicking hotguy, but all Scar felt was a mute wave of distress, oblivious to it.
No wonder that they had been both oblivious to it.
Scar wanted answers, a lot of answers, and Hotguy just wanted to take the body, shove on the uniform that made him feel like him- not scar, hotguy, and curl up and cry to someone, he half wished it was someone’s shoulder, but he couldn’t he needed to protect Scar from people knowing that there was trouble, the last time the agency had brought in someone like him- no, like them, like the both of them, he heard the talk of fixing them.
That was the moment that Hotguy decided he was keeping this a secret to the grave, even against scar; although looking at the terrified scar, a confused avian who would realise the truth in time; a vampire finally having the pieces snap together, and a zombie who wondered how it had not come to fruition earlier, all decided that they weren’t going to let scar suffer thinking that he was the only one like this, and that they would help him with what he was struggling with- and for the ones who had figured it out- help him with his plurality- even if he had to be dragged out of the denial, even if his alter, even if hotguy fought against this realisation to protect him.