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by: cephaloct
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by: cephaloct
Frontlined by none other than The Captains and sworn to protect beautiful New Skyline City, the world's very first Heroes debut March 14th, 1997.
by: cephaloct
A Hero refers to a person who has gained powers and has been employed under the Heroics Corporation.A person is dictated as a Hero by the physical state of their heart; all Heroes have a condition where this organ becomes encased by what is known as the Golden Glory. Fittingly, this is known as a Golden Heart. If someone has one, they are a Hero.
Heroics Co. owns/employs all those with Golden Hearts, aka Heroes.Heroes are automatically hired, and work the company's requested hours. They are given generous paychecks and receive benefits (perfect in the not-so-uncommon events of broken bones or knocked-out teeth). The company is based in New Skyline City, the home of the rare Superior Glory.The company's star team is called Heroics' Pride. All of the members and information about them can be found via the 'Heroes' tab at the top of the site, as well as the button below.
A Golden Glory (sometimes referred to as a Core) is born from the Superior Glory flower. This is the mysterious orb that turns people into Heroes.A person cannot choose to absorb a Golden Glory; either it selects you, or it doesn't. It seems to follow an unknown, selective process. Because of this, it is believed that the Cores bear some semblance of sentience— however, others believe that its selections are merely random. Because of how new these discoveries are, not much is known yet. The Heroics Corporation is the company that oversees and funds research regarding them.
Extra Info:- When it finds itself in conflict, it will warp and rumble, reflecting damage back outwards.- There is only one who can alter these Cores, and it lies in the hands of The Healer; she has the ability to turn them into a liquified state.- Whether through direct contact with the liquid, or by wearing an infused bandage, the substance of a Golden Glory has incredible healing properties. However, it only seems to resonate with Heroes; when normal humans make contact, it turns them ill, as if poisoned.
The Superior Glory is the name of the plant where the Golden Glory comes from. Upon the flower's blooming, its petals of vibrant yellow and blue part, revealing a center of shimmering, golden beauty.This flower is incredibly rare, and cannot be reproduced by man's hand; they sprout from the ground in random places at random times.
They're picky, fantastical little things.
The main characters of the story.
Leaders of Heroics' Pride and faces of Heroics Co. They don't enjoy each other's company; a bitterness always stirs between them.They have the same powers due to a strange phenomenon involving the Golden Glories.Above them, and above all, one man (or robot?) sits mysteriously at the top (with none other than his adorable assistant):
by: cephaloct
Heroics' Pride contains nothing but the best.
by: cephaloct
Information
| Hello! Chances are, if you're here, you're most likely familiar with my work and my characters. If not, I'm Cephaloct! Heroics Heroes is a passion project I started when I had just turned fifteen, all the way back in 2018. Motivated by a plethora of media featuring cool/dorky characters, I wanted to take my own crack at it and create some wacky little guys. |
| The golden age of superhero comics can be defined fairly easily: heroes had simple, memorable titles, wore simple, bare-bones costumes, and fought bad guys with their simple super powers. Inspired by those eras, this is a story that builds off what old-school comics are at heart; groups of dudes doing cool shit! |
| But, of course, I incorporate my own twists and plotlines, to make things at least a little new and interesting. Wanna see what I've been cooking up? Then you're in luck! Most of what I post online is centered around this silly little project, so why not come and stop by until I actually get the thing made and published somewhere in the online depths? |
(Accept this placeholder goober for now pls)
| Power: All-Rounder |
| Rather than focusing on one gimmick, The Hero & The Heroine are rounded and balanced. Their strength, speed, sight, stamina, among other things have gained significant boosts, although not by an incredible margin. |
The Hero
Max Valen
February 20th, 1970
27 yrs old ★ 6'4
| Max is a charismatic man, and he has the infectious smile to go with it. Always wearing every emotion on his sleeve, he’s generally a pleasant guy to be around— but his fuse is short, and his stubborn temper dares to be rivaled. |
| Since leaving high school, he’s had a knack for being carefree and never being held down by stuff he dislikes. He quits his jobs and does what he wants, and the only steady things in his life are his roommate, Eli, and his girlfriend, Brooklyn. |
| This all changes when he’s suddenly thrown into the position of a Hero at the Heroics Corporation— a job and life he can’t change— and his carefree nature simply isn’t an option anymore. At least now he has a steady paycheck! |
(Accept this placeholder goober for now pls)
| Power: All-Rounder |
| Rather than focusing on one gimmick, The Hero & The Heroine are rounded and balanced. Their strength, speed, sight, stamina, among other things have gained significant boosts, although not by an incredible margin. |
The Heroine
Leah Hart
March 5th, 1970
27 yrs old ★ 5'10
| Leah is a woman who is tougher than some people might initially expect. With a stern determination and fierce mind, she tends to come off as harsh— it's sometimes not her intention! |
| Graduating from college with a business degree and immediately jumping into a job afterwards, Leah is someone who lives by her work. Raised in a household that believed in success, she works steady and doesn’t do much else. |
| When her life abruptly changes and she suddenly has to balance being a Hero with her already established job, she's forced to find a way to shine on both sides— and it isn’t without stress, anger, frustration, and a mouth capable of dealing the fiercest arguments. |
| Power: Shapeshifting |
| Cepha can shapeshift into anything that he can come up with. However, if he holds a transformation too long, his form will become less than convincing. |
The Shifter
Cepha
???
??? ★ 6'2 (changeable)
| The tricky shapeshifter, whose next move is always ultimately unknown. He was a marine biologist before having his life completely altered and does not remember much from his time as a human. He can be seen as a trickster or a backstabber, but despite this sly nature, his alliance does truthfully lie with The Heroes. He is always seen wearing his robes, and no one knows what lies beneath the folds. |
| Power: Mind Reading |
| Farren has two orbs linked to her power. She can read minds using one, and store a memory using the other. One is connected to her staff, and the other is attached to her necklace. |
The Mage
Farren Hines
August 7th, 1973
23 yrs old ★ 5'0
| Farren is your typical nerd. She spends her spare time playing tabletop RPGs, daydreaming, and cutting up the clothes in her closet to create fantastical costumes. Aside from that, she's also a struggling novelist who just can’t seem to finish a draft; however, since becoming a Hero, she gathers inspiration from her new fascinating experiences, and is now able to get those drafts written (when she’s not busy being The Mage, of course). |
| Power: Vine Creation |
| Gabriel has the ability to grow vines from his hands. In order to easily break these vines when necessary, he carries a sword with him. |
The Knight
Gabriel Caballero
August 28th, 1970
26 yrs old ★ 5'8
| Gabriel, the last member to join The Heroes, is a charming, loveable addition to the team. However, underneath those smooth words and good looks lies a man whose unsettled nerves narrate his every move. Despite being extremely self-conscious and almost always nervous, no one would ever be able to guess due to the incredible front he puts on. But, crack him open, and it’s clear that this “charmer” is really just a mess. |
| Power: Super Speed |
| Tierney can run fast. Strangely enough, this effect is amplified when they drink gasoline; but unfortunately, doing so gives an impairment effect similiar to alcohol. |
The Racer
Tierney Hyun
February 5th, 1972
25 yrs old ★ 5'8
| Tierney is a former racecar driver whose legs became crippled after a racing accident, bringing their glory days to an abrupt end. However, after being approached by the Heroics Corporation, they were given a second chance. Being gifted a new prosthetic leg and having the other healed by the power of the Golden Glory, Tierney gained their Golden Heart and now works as The Racer, back in the spotlight where they believe they rightfully belong. |
| Power: Super Strength |
| The closer it is to the night of a full moon, the greater Klint's powers become. His main attribute is his unruly strength, but he also has a shockingly good sense of smell. |
The Wolf
Klint Rolfe
October 27th, 1962
34 yrs old ★ 6'10
| Klint was once a lawyer, and to his dismay, not a great one at that. However, in a surprisingly strange coincidence, a pattern followed him: he could always win his cases if the trial took place on the day of a full moon. Nowadays, akin to a werewolf, he gains his power from the moon— and is now a full-time Hero. His new strength, size, and abundance of hair are a permanent change in his life, but he is much happier now as a Hero, rather than the stressed-out lawyer he once was. |
| Power: Precognition |
| The Eyes can plug into The Visionary's head, allowing her to take over their sight. Not only does this let her see via their points of view, but they can also show glimpses of the future under certain circumstances. |
The Visionary
Paisley Anderson
May 11th, 1980
16 yrs old ★ 5'5
| Despite being on the cusp of seventeen, Paisley has a kindness in her heart and a will to help others that is stronger than even that of an experienced adult. Outcasted at school due to this ‘strange’ and 'totally uncool' nature, Paisley has been alone for the majority of her life. However, after gaining her Golden Heart and being joined by The Eyes, she becomes a Hero and is now able to help people, just as she’s always wished to do. With her Heroic family, she is no longer outcasted, and goes by the short nickname "V". She's also a common favorite Hero among young girls. |
| Power: Hella Hops! |
| The Trainer's Golden Heart came with the ability to jump very high. Though it isn't an incredibly fascinating power, it is a fun one. |
The Trainer
Sam Lockwood
July 8th, 1969
27 yrs old ★ 6'5
| Sam is a boisterous, happy woman. Growing up as a farmhand in the south, she learned to be strong from a young age, which is where her interest in fitness first blossomed. As an adult, she became a fitness trainer, and as a Hero, she runs the studio in Headquarters to keep the other Heroes on top of their games. She was originally meant to join the others as a frontline Hero, but The Boss decided that she would work better as an "assistant" Hero in the end. |
The Healer
Diane Camara
(Carmenta)
November 19th, 1956
40 yrs old ★ 5'11
| An older member of the team and ever-caring, Carmenta has the power to aid anyone who may need it. With various amenities that heal wounds over time with great power, and a personal office dedicated to those more pesky injuries (burns, dismemberment, etc.), she is arguably one of the most important members of the team. Because of this sacred power, she does not go out into battle with the others, and the Heroes cannot receive aid until they return to her at the base. |
| Power: Golden Glory Manipulation |
| Carmenta has the power to take the Cores (Golden Glories) and manipulate them. This can include melting them, infusing them into bandages, etc. |
| The Boss will be introduced sometime in the future! |
| Power: ??? |
The Boss
???
Heroics Unmasked
A collection of written side stories featuring our Heroes; also known as a little spin-off series called Heroics Unmasked! These are essentially slice-of-life glimpses into what our Heroes get up to at Heroics Co.
Also available to read on:
Click any title to read!
| Title | MC | Word Count |
|---|---|---|
| A Rumor | The Knight | 1k |
| Tea in the City | The Wolf | 5k |
| Scrapes and Sleepovers | The Visionary | 5.8K |
Shoutouts
The names of those who have pledged to my Patreon, and directly help support me, my projects, and my art. Thank you!
| Jaden Callahan | Imoogi |
| Mak | mondaybear21 |
| Atomic Apples | Lucifer |
| The Sparkle Girls | A.J Johnson |
| Panda | Toby |
| Sylvia Lewis | Mogaly |
| Mercury Mays | Mikzin |
Heroics Unmasked
A Rumor
Featuring:
Gabriel Caballero, Tierney Tyun
Word Count: 1018
Tags: workplace, rumors, implied relationships
| Gabriel struggles with a piece of gossip that's begun following him around. Unfortunately, he knows exactly who's responsible for spreading it. |
| “... Huh?!” |
| There’s been a bothersome rumor going around Headquarters. |
| It isn’t anything harmful, racy, or downright big, but it’s a piece of gossip nonetheless. Something passed around during periods of downtime. A talking piece during those brief moments of small talk. |
| “What? No, that’s… Why would somebody believe that?” |
| Though the rumor isn’t particularly ripe in terms of how fruitful it is, regardless, it's undoubtedly embarrassing to the poor man it circulates around. So much so, that he finds himself nervously pacing around the halls of the base. Leather-clad palms slick with sweat, lips raw from agitated chewing. His brow furrows, and his eyes sweep the floor as he thinks. |
| “Not quite sure of the source of the rumor yet,”— a common lie he has had to tell himself and the others in order to shove away those squirmish feelings of potential confrontation. In reality, he has a pretty damn good idea of where this gossip came from, and the exact person who’d have a mouth devilish enough to spread it. |
| It happened a few weeks ago. It was later in the day, the windows fogged, and the tile flooring beneath his boots glossy and cold. Snow was falling gently outside, with the sun having set and the last bits of its light pouring in along the solemn stretch of walls. Tucked away next to the fireplace, Gabriel hummed to himself, curling the cord of a phone between his fingers. |
| Anxious, jittery, but managing to scrape up some courage from within himself. |
| “Mi amor— my love,” he says quietly after a beat of silence, “it’s getting late, and I’ve been away from the others too long, I’m afraid.” He pauses. “I will do everything I can to ensure that I see you again. I pray that our phone calls become sparse, and that our time spent physically will become part of our routines.” Another pause. |
| “Until next time. Goodnight.” |
| Click. |
| The phone is set back on the hook, and Gabriel chews his lip. |
| Being a Hero is hard work, but trying to love another Hero is even harder. With schedules so conflicting and tight, finding the time to meet was difficult, and aside from that, Gabriel had agreed to a plethora of contracts. Contracts that, somewhere deep within their fine print, stated that meeting other Heroes outside of work was prohibited. The only way for him to connect with another was on the clock, and it always went back to those irritably sorted schedules. Even then, the consequences of meeting another Hero like that were unknown, and— |
| “Juicy.” |
| Gabriel’s heart jumps to his throat. His stomach, already churning, drops. |
| Tierney. What a revolting, unpleasant surprise. He turns. |
| “Tier,” He starts slowly, nerves frantic as the cold eyes of his coworker gleam down at him, “You didn’t hear all of that, did you?” |
| “Don’t worry, just the last part,” they confirm, “which I believe was enough for me to gather some context. Taking your flirting to the phone lines, Gabe? Please tell me it’s as juicy as I think.” |
| The smallest of smiles cracks across their face— a gesture which is absolutely never a good sign— and Gabriel quickly rises to his feet. Brow furrowed and hand raised, he manages to collect himself enough to point a finger straight at The Racer’s chest. |
| “You… you… Listen!” He says, feeling defensive and cornered. “I know you love coming after me, and I know you love to make my life a living hell, but please, for the love of god, you cannot tell anyone.” |
| Tierney watches the way his face contorts from an interesting act of anger into a rather sheepish, impotent softness. Unfortunately for The Knight, Tierney’s face remains chilly and stoic. |
| “Casanova of the team… that’s your whole thing, right? Not really the fighting type, can’t get a hold on his powers… so you rely on old charisma, yeah? From the sounds of it, this just sounds like any other phone call you gotta do for work.” |
| Gabriel swallows dryly, but isn’t able to respond before Tierney continues. |
| “Flirting is your gig, and you do it quite a lot. I’m not surprised to hear you tossing pet names around like that. It’s just part of your quota as a Hero.” They drag out a pause. “But. This isn’t for work’s sake, is it? To me, it sounds like you got a real woman to finally start falling for you, mi amor.” |
| The Knight, unable to keep a grip on himself, literally pouts. “Oh come on, this isn’t fair! I don’t even know if she likes me back yet or not, and— ugh, it’s complicated and private! So… you should just let me be. If you’re planning on prodding me for answers, I don’t even have any. You’re wasting your time.” |
| Tierney allows for him to fumble with his words for a bit. Doesn’t interrupt those vulnerable pleas and the way his body begins to shrink in on itself. But eventually, it has to end. |
| Inevitably, Tierney grows bored, and sighs with a shrug. |
| “Hm. Gossip is great and all, but not really when I’m the ear that gets it first. I’d rather have it simmer and formulate with some extra speculative drama, y’know, Cepha style. But I’ll admit, I think that out of everyone here, you’re probably the one Hero who’s an exception to that. Getting something juicy from mister Knight firsthand is something else.” |
| Before Gabriel can mentally admit that his life is over, Tierney continues. |
| “But, I’ll let it be; you can have your peace. Can’t make any promises about it not catching up to you in the future, though. Sometimes things get boring around here, and you know Cepha. He loves it when I tell him everything.” |
| Deciding that they’ve exhausted this conversation, they turn on their heel and toss out a quick hand signal, facing back to the doorway to leave. “Anyway, nice chatting with you. Later, Gabe.” |
| And as Gabriel walks the halls, replaying that conversation over and over in his head, he groans and drags his hands over his face. |
| Stupid, stupid Tierney. |
Heroics Unmasked
Tea in the City
Featuring:
Klint Rolfe, Diane Camara
Word Count: 5040
Tags: workplace, lunch, conversations, light angst, wound care, happy ending, fluff
| Klint is feeling low from the phase of the Moon. Carmenta makes a proposition with the hopes of helping out. |
| "As for yesterday?" |
| "Pretty much the same, I guess. The few scrapes are healing up nicely, though. Not too much delay on 'em." |
| Klint flexes his fingers. Along his forearm, a carefully wrapped Core bandage encompasses him. From beneath, he can feel the bonds of his skin. Tattered, yes, but improving. Healthier. |
| "Mhm, that's good," Carmenta nods. Her eyes gloss over the notes in her hand, a quiet expression framing her face. She finishes writing, clicks the barrel of her pen, and flips her clipboard outward. "That all makes for a fairly routine check-up, then. All looks well, Klint." |
| Slowly, he takes the board. Prim handwriting scrawls across a chart, rows working in unison with columns marked by small insignias of the Moon. |
| As usual, his eyes linger on one in particular: the Waxing Crescent. His place of hope. When the dull New Moon begins to shift, and light flocks like corrosion at its edge. When energy finally manages to discover its way back to Klint and his ridiculous heft. |
| There's a sticker right next to his name at the top of the sheet. A small, yellow heart. Good job. |
| He hands the clipboard back, and Carmenta smiles gently. |
| "Things have gotten better since you initially acquired your powers, but I understand that progress still feels minimal. We're still trying to find ways to help your rougher intervals, but you're doing better," she says. |
| Klint scoffs lightheartedly. "Oof, y'know, I try my best to understand, but I still can't help but feel like complete shit." |
| Carmenta holds her smile; imperceptibly, her eyes crinkle. "If you don't believe me, then believe the chart." |
| She rises to her heels, dress flowing behind her as she moves to set the clipboard on her desk. She dusts her hands on the skirt, hums quietly, and kneels. |
| "Smart answer, considerin' you're the one writin’ the chart anyway." A faint chuckle. "I could argue with ya, but it all feels somewhat useless then, don't it?" |
| "Correct," somewhere behind the desk, Carmenta fishes around. "No point in bickering, because you're doing great. However, if you desire relaxing, alongside debriefing with me some more, I have a great blend for it." |
| Daintily placed, a cup presents itself from below. Carmenta shuffles around some more and returns to her feet not long after, setting a neatly crafted box beside it. Anyone from Heroics' Pride can recognize the arrangement instantly. |
| "Tea?" Klint says. "You know I've always been more of a coffee guy." |
| "Also correct," she tips the lid of the box open, "But I don't believe coffee is a proper stimulant for you right now. Substances like that, too late in the day and during this phase, have begun to prove themselves as troublesome." |
| From within the rosewood casing, a plate, spoon, and glass of sugar are removed from their respective compartments in the box. Carmenta takes her time arranging them, finding no incentive to rush or worry despite the careful eyes watching. |
| She turns again, reaching toward one of the shelves behind her. Rows of containers line an ornate hutch, and she pulls from one in particular, where a small tea bag and a string follow suit. |
| "I know it's probably bad for me on a few levels, but I'm always workin' and doing somethin' that starts bringin' on those cravings. It's a habit from the old days, y'know? You get addicted to caffeine in law school, and everythin’ just works from there. Everyone I knew fell for that trick, at least." Klint laughs lightly, and continues. |
| "It's been months, and I'm still not used to this whole Heart thing. Hero business is great and all, but I never thought I'd find myself in a state where my ability to drink coffee would be affected by the phase of the Moon. Of all the things..." |
| Carmenta acknowledges him quietly through a suppressed hum. Her eyes dip, low and focused on the contents of her desk; though subtle, her movements slow to a churn. |
| It interrupts the slog of Klint's mind, and he trails off. Watching Carmenta sink the tea bag into an empty cup, he catches a shift. She's quiet, not unlike her usual self— but still. |
| Carmenta wasn't the only Hero who could pick up the differences in others' demeanor. His prior life had given Klint years of experience under his belt. |
| "Sorry for ramblin', Diane. You know how I am. Ah, and this is usually the time I take my smoke break too— I think I'm just all over the place right now. Lots on the mind, feelin' kinda buzzy, that sorta thing." He apologizes. Resetting himself, he leans back on the couch, sinking deeper into the plush white cushions. He sighs through his nose. |
| A moment passes, the beat of silence enveloping them. Eventually, The Healer stops. |
| Gently, she grabs the delicate plate and spoon previously retrieved, and returns them to their cradles of rosewood at her side. The glass vial of sugar follows, and cordially, she tips the lid of the tea box shut. Klint furrows a brow. |
| He's about to speak up— find a way to apologize again— but then something warms the woman's face. |
| Ethereal amber eyes find his own. The corners of her lips curl upward. "Let's reset. I have another idea." |
| Curious, The Wolf's brow snaps from furrowed to raised. |
| Carmenta finds her seat behind her desk, and eases the chair forward while reaching for the telephone. Taking the handle off the line, she raises its sleek white frame to her ear and dials something short. Short enough to produce ringing with the press of a single digit. |
| It only chimes once before a clear, crisp voice breaks through on the other end. "Hello, dear Carmenta." |
| "Hello, Boss," she says. "I'm calling in regards to a proposition. One I'd like to make for today." |
| "Mm, of course. And what might that entail?" |
| "I'm currently in my office with The Wolf, and we have recorded his Phase statuses for the week. Having concluded, I wanted to request something additional to help." |
| "Oh?" |
| Carmenta rests her hand gently on the wood of the desk. "If schedules and time frames align, I would like to request time outside of Headquarters. I have something I would like to have Klint try down in Bellevue, now that he's better and approaching First Quarter." |
| On the other side of the line, the subtle sounds of clicking and shuffling crackle quietly. It takes a few seconds, but inevitably, the low hum of The Boss's vocals cuts through. |
| "Mm, alright... the schedule is clear. You have my approval. I assume that going down to Bellevue means that you'd also like to request transportation?" |
| "Solo, if possible." |
| "Always possible. I'll have someone prepare a vehicle for you outside the lobby. I'll give them, say, ten minutes." The Boss pauses. "And please, Carmenta, call me Vic." |
| The line clicks, going dead. Carmenta hangs up and offers an attentive glance toward Klint, who's been watching with a keen look. |
| "I assume that you heard?" She suggests politely. |
| "Everythin', as usual." The tips of his ears fluff out, paired with a curious smirk. "What plans are you conjurin' up in that mysterious little head of yours?" |
| As mysteriously as she can muster it in that beat, a smile blossoms on her face; naturally, it comes out far softer and sweet than intended. "Don't fret, they won't be hidden from you for long." |
| --- |
| Tires against pavement, wind weaving through hair, Klint grins ear-to-ear with the breeze in his teeth. Headrest extended as far as it can go, he leans back and sighs happily, shooting a swift glance over at Carmenta. |
| It's a nice day to be out in the convertible. The subtle purse of The Healer's lip can attest to that. |
| The golden intricacies of her costume glimmer in the sun, light reflecting just as brightly as that focused look in her eyes. Her hands flex around the wheel, relaxed, and as if she can sense his staring, she takes a quick peek over at the passenger seat. |
| Klint catches her as expected, equal parts intrigued and quizzical. "So, when are you gonna stop keepin' secrets and actually tell me where you're takin' us?" he asks. "On a day like this, I'd never complain about takin' a trip along The Terrace— still, surely you've got some intentions brewin’ beyond just a typical Sunday drive." |
| Carmenta simply teases, "Patience is a virtue, Klint." |
| They take a turn, entering the stretches of road where the rocks obscuring the cliff-side grow scarce, and the world below seems to open up. |
| Paradise Heights, the home of Heroics Co. and its headquarters, wasn't much for sightseeing when it came to its own offerings of land— being a failed and abandoned subdivision project will do that. But once you look out, get close to the mountainous edge and peer over, you can see something beautiful. |
| The two of them watch the full glory of the city come into view, all the way from the sprawling Downtown core, over to the distant shade of The Junction. Below them, still clinging to the cliff-side and thus part of The Terrace, is Bellevue. From this angle, you can see just about every house, and every one of their complementary backyard pools. Every block sprawling with hedges and pristine roads, and every car appearing free from the misery of fender-benders and bird shit. An actual paradise, as the rich folks might call it. |
| It's a nice place to visit, and an even nicer place to visit while on the clock, Klint thinks. Carmenta wasn't a rookie when it came to finding ways to cheer people up, that was for sure. |
| As they cruise down the mountainside, Klint lighting up a cigarette here and there, time seems to fly by as fast as the smoke that billows past his lips. Before he knows it, they're surrounded by those aforementioned hedges and fancy cars, following a freeway that leads into the outer edges of the neighborhood. Still disgustingly rich, just more so in the old-money kind of way. |
| "Okay, I'll tell you this," Carmenta speaks up after some modest small talk, "We're getting fairly close. You can feel free to guess where we're going, but something tells me you won't be making any correct guesses." |
| "What's that supposed to mean?" Klint laughs. "It's gotta be pretty damn exclusive if you're sayin' little things like that." |
| "Exclusive, maybe, but perhaps not in the way that you're thinking," she says. |
| They continue down the freeway, eventually turning off to carve their way through the nearby blocks. The surrounding area appears to encompass the dip from urban to suburban, where skyscrapers take turns hosting businesses and housing, and passers-by rock a mix between business-savvy and family-man. It's here that the duo pivot onto a compact street, devoid of parking lots or much open space to walk, and Carmenta stops to park by the curb. |
| Klint looks around, and, yeah, it looks like his friend was right. Definitely not what he expected. |
| "If you meant exclusive as in some back roads that the typical city folk probably don't even know about, then yeah, I guess you were onto somethin'. This is exclusive." |
| The two of them unbuckle and climb out, Klint stopping to take a nice long stretch after being cooped up. As he refreshes himself, Carmenta adjusts her dress and takes a few steps down the sidewalk, pulling out a handful of change and punching in the usual business at the nearby parking meter. |
| "If you would like to think of it that way, then maybe you’re right. However, remember, I haven't shown you what we're here for yet," she glows. “More surprises are to come.” |
| "I trust ya," he says. "Though I gotta admit, seein' you so sneaky feels a bit strange." |
| Returning to the car and leaning over the door, she subdues a laugh. "It does, doesn't it?" The parking receipt is tucked safely on the dashboard. "But I'm feeling inspired. I have my secrets too, you know." |
| Carmenta certainly knows how to keep Klint's curiosity over the situation growing. She joins him along the narrow sidewalk, dainty steps guiding the way forward. He's not even sure what to say or how to react, but as he watches her lead, all he can do is chuckle. |
| "Well, we're all aware that Heroics knows how to gather its fair share of secretive people, that's for sure. What if all this time, you've been hidin' as one of the biggest?" |
| "Alongside the likes of someone such as Cepha? No, I really don't think so," she grins. "There's a difference between being quiet and being secretive— and I at least have the heart to share my secrets sometimes. Come, it's up this way." |
| Grabbing her skirt, she strides off the curb into a shallow alleyway, tiptoeing her way onto the stairs of a fire escape. |
| Klint, confused and not quite so graceful, follows behind as the stairs creak and shake from his weight. Thankfully, he doesn't have to keep the structure rattling embarrassingly loud for long, because it's only a couple of stories before Carmenta steps up to a door and elegantly knocks. |
| As the door groans open moments later, Klint finds little time to prepare and process expectations; a lofty chuckle breaks through from behind it. |
| "Well, if it isn't The Healer! Welcome, Carmenta." A shrill voice calls out. |
| "Hello," Carmenta replies with a warmth akin to the sun. "I've brought a guest today. I hope that's okay." |
| "More than okay, I've got plenty of goods to go around," they laugh. It's then that the voice is given a face, and peering out of the doorway, a stalky older woman meets face-to-stomach with the towering stature of The Wolf. |
| Her neck cranes to sit nearly perpendicular to her chest, an astounded look bulging from wrinkled eyes. Suddenly, Klint is feeling quite out of place. |
| "And I thought you were a tall one," she says to Carmenta. "By my stars, is this The Wolf?" |
| "The one and only, yes," Carmenta nods. |
| "Hi," his manners come rushing back, "If I had known I'd be coming to something so intimate, I'd have probably better-dressed myself." |
| The old woman laughs. "And take yourself out of costume? Mister Wolf, don't think that just because I'm your elder, I don't respect Heroes and business matters." |
| The weight on his shoulders visibly falters, just a bit, and he exhales with a smile and offers his hand. "My apologies." |
| She takes it, making sure to counteract his overt gentleness through a firm grip. With her free hand, she gives Carmenta a kind pat on the shoulder, and then turns towards the entrance. "Find a table and make yourselves comfortable; I'll be right with ya." |
| Carmenta leads the way again, Klint following behind and ducking his head through the doorway. The older woman had wandered into another room, leaving the duo to stand in the center of this one, and immediately, his nose perks up. As if suddenly wrapped in a blanket, he feels an overwhelming comfort encapsulate him. |
| There are a few tables and chairs organized among a large rug, as well as various other accommodations and trinkets displayed along the walls. It's a small place, no doubt, but undeniably cozy and calm— the type of place that would attract Carmenta like a magnet. |
| Speaking of which, it looks like she's already found a spot to sit. |
| "These chairs won't break under my weight, will they?" Klint asks, half joking, half hesitant. He takes the gamble with a cautious plop. |
| "Is that usually a problem for you?" Her brow arches with concern. |
| "Depends. These look sturdy enough, though. I'll take the risk and cover any damage costs." |
| From behind, the familiar voice returns. "Good. I hope that paycheck from Heroics treats you well." |
| His stomach flips. A look of embarrassment almost creeps onto Klint's face, but it's shot down with relative ease. |
| "Only kidding; those chairs are well-crafted buggers. Still, on that small off-chance, I wouldn't be averse to any offers to help pay for repairs." The lady chuckles. Klint titters. "Anyway, do you have anything on your mind to get started with, Healer?" |
| "I do, actually," she nods. "We've come down from Headquarters, and as part of my work, I wanted to help The Wolf here get some much-needed relaxation." |
| "Keeping The Heroes on top of their games, eh?" |
| "I try." |
| "Right, I hear you. You want the usual? A portion for The Wolf here too, I presume?" |
| "Correct as always," The Healer smiles. "I'd love to share some favorites with him." |
| "Gotcha. Give me some time, and I'll be back with the goods before you know it," the wrinkles around the woman's eyes swell. Before turning, she remembers to throw in a quick nod towards The Wolf, too. "By the way, in case she hasn't told you, you can call me Giselle." |
| A polite grin. "Thank you, Giselle." |
| With that, Giselle hurries to a room off to the side, closing the door swiftly behind her. Left in a comfortable silence, Carmenta bows her head, and Klint hums. It's the first time since their drive down that he isn't feeling giddy from the prying curiosity inside of him, but that didn't mean he didn't still have questions— not to mention a few offhand comments too. |
| "She's almost as petite as The Mage, ain't she?" he snickers. |
| "Wolf." |
| "I know, I know. Just playin'." |
| Carmenta purses her lips and shakes her head dismissively. "At least you haven't broken the chair yet." |
| He snickers again. |
| "Alright, anyway. What's the deal here Carmie, or are you just gonna sit there and make me put the pieces together? I'm a bit rusty when it comes to handling evidence these days, y'know." |
| It’s her turn to giggle. "Now, now, have I ever been one to rush? I feel like we practically just sat ourselves down. Although I suppose you have been exercising your patience well... filling in your blanks might not hurt," she hums. |
| "It never hurts. Tell me, where'd you find an establishment like this?" He leans forward. |
| There’s a gentle glimmer in Carmenta’s pupils before it quickly fades, something complex painting her expression. While light, the thoughts within appear to carry some weight. She matches his lean. |
| "Wolf. How are your senses?" |
| He freezes briefly. Then he understands. |
| Code. Confirmation of privacy. |
| Anchoring himself for her, his eyes fall shut soon after. The tips of his ears, fluffy and attentive, begin to flutter, and the cartilage of his nose stiffens. From within his chair, his body tenses, and he focuses on the sensations of the ground beneath his feet. He can feel it: a complete absence— Giselle isn’t close by. Not close enough to be able to hear them, anyway. The frequencies of radios, cameras, or microphones— nowhere to be found either. |
| The floor is safe. His ears twitch again, and gruffly, he makes a noise of affirmation. |
| "Clear," he says. They’re free to speak. |
| Drawn back to her, he provides a look of compassion; Carmenta mirrors it with a nod. A submissive tenderness swims in her eyes as she ponders her next words, before settling to fold her hands upon the table with a soft sigh. |
| As is easiest, she determines to speak from the heart. |
| "Giselle is someone I met through one of my initial childcare programs in Fairview many years ago. Things were hard for her, and after she signed up, I took care of her grandson during the days that she worked by herself." |
| Someone from Diane's personal line of work. Klint understands almost immediately. |
| "When he was old enough to leave home, she kept working, as that sort of system was all she really knew. However, having progressed with age, she wanted to switch to a lifestyle that she could enjoy. I understood her sentiments well; as I myself got older, I wanted to spend more time around what I loved. After all, it was through the programs I created that I could meet souls such as hers." |
| Gracefully, she continues. "Giselle always loved cooking and providing, and felt that she had enough experience to create something from that inner devotion. Starting a business here in the city is never easy, but I knew she had something worth pursuing. After she found her ground, she was able to take it and pave her way. Needless to say, it didn't take long for me to become a regular. She had a talent for taking away my stress after worrisome days with the children." |
| "That's amazin’," Klint says with awe. "It’s clear as day that you've always had a knack for helpin’ out people like that." |
| "I simply cannot watch my friends blossom without wanting to help them grow," she says. "It's been a few years now, and I'm happy to see her making ends meet where it matters most." |
| "I believe ya— hell, even just making it to Bellevue is an achievement in and of itself." |
| There's a brief moment where something shy flares in those delicate amber eyes. The clasp of her palms shifts. |
| "Earlier, she said that she hopes your paycheck treats you well, but in reality, she knows we Heroes are more than well off. I have done all I can to put that money where I’m able, especially for the local developments that really need it. Giselle coming up to Bellevue, even just to run a hole-in-the-wall establishment, has been one of my proudest investments." |
| The smile that lights up Klint's face reflects a deep-seated pride within. "This is because of you? That's incredible." |
| That aforementioned shyness returns, but this time, Klint can almost swear the tint beneath her skin shifts too. |
| “Despite that, there is still a selfish part of me that eats away at my conscience. It feels shameful,” she sighs, “and yet, I cannot help it. I can’t deny that part of my heart wishes that Giselle knew who was supporting her beneath it all. All she knows is that the famous Healer likes to come to her establishment and help, but I would love to tell her that it comes from the heart of Diane. All the way from beginnings in Fairview, up to comfort on The Terrace." |
| Klint watches her quietly. Carmenta has never been one to fidget or slump her shoulders, but right now, he sees the holes in her composition. The way her brows knit with doubt, the way the corners of her mouth dip timidly. Even as the beacon of love and wisdom back at HQ, it grows abundantly clear that she needs some of it to shine back onto her. |
| "That's the hard part of the work," he says. "People think it's tough for me to lift heavy shit, but it's nothin'. Not when compared to the things they got us doin' behind the scenes. Keepin' quiet about it all, hidin' from our friends." |
| "It's incredibly difficult, especially to hide our true selves. Giselle has been so kind, and has asked fruitlessly for me to open up. I trust her, but how can I show it by continuously hiding? I wish it was possible, if only I could..." |
| Confliction swims in Carmenta's eyes. Seeing this, Klint stretches a lumbering hand over the tabletop to affectionately pat her on the side. |
| "I imagine Giselle is only one of many people for you. You're a carin’ gal when it comes to our city, no doubt. I know it might not help that younger version of Diane much, but right now, you've got us, your makeshift shithead family back at HQ. We see what you're doin', and we appreciate you every day. Without ya, we'd all probably be missin' a few limbs by now. Maybe even have gone crazy too." |
| Slowly, Carmenta looks up. Behind that enormous forearm, the one delicately wrapped in bandages, the ones applied by her careful measure and hand; she catches a grin. A grand, wolfish one, one that she can't help but tilt her chin up and smile back at. He chuckles. |
| "Thank you for bringin' me here. I still don't even know what the girlie back in the kitchen is makin' up for us, but I'm glad to be sittin' here with you." |
| Carmenta bows her head before a quiet laugh slips out. "I… I don't know what I can say to express my appreciation. Truthfully, I only brought you here because I wanted you to relax and try one of my favorite local tea-and-dessert combos, but being able to share some of my thoughts feels delightful. I feel as if a weight has come off my shoulders." |
| The grin never leaves his face. As if his answer could ever be different, The Wolf bows his head in return. |
| "You don't gotta worry about sayin' anything, I'm just happy to be here for ya." |
| She closes her eyes softly, drawing a breath. "Thank you." |
| "Of course. I'll always be here for you. Whether as a friend, or as your guinea pig." |
| --- |
| "Be sure to come back soon, Carmenta! And if you ever want to bring your big bad wolf friend back, he's always welcome. Oh, and that goes for any of your other flashy friends, too!" |
| Needless to say, lunch went swimmingly. Initially, Klint found himself shocked by the sheer size of the sweet potato pie that was presented before him, but it only took a quick jab with a fork and knife to find out that it was as delicious as it was gargantuan. |
| Naturally, Carmenta's slice wasn't prepared quite so large, but she made up for the difference through the various cups of tea she had assorted along the table. The day became a wine-tasting event of sorts, but instead of tasting wine, she got Klint to take drinks of every possible blend of tea that she thought would benefit him. |
| "This one's a bit too sweet for my likin'." He clicked his tongue with a look of sourness. |
| "Christ, that's as bitter as stale dirt!" he said regarding another, resisting the urge to spit it onto the table. |
| One of the cups presented had finally appeared swell enough for his liking, until he accidentally swallowed the tea bag whole. String and all. |
| "Maybe if my hands weren't so damn big, I could reach right in there and fish it out myself!" |
| Carmenta frowned. "I hope you're not insinuating that I should be the one to retrieve it." |
| All in all, The Healer would claim it as a success. Giselle would too, once she'd discover the astounding tip left behind on the table. |
| "Don't fret, I always find a way," Carmenta beams, holding her hands over her chest warmly. "And I'll be sure to plan more routine trips over with the others as well." |
| "And hey, I won't be complainin' if she decides to take me along— that pie was delicious." |
| Klint and Giselle exchange equally toothy grins. Picking up her skirt and heading toward the stairs, The Healer offers one final "thank you" before waving her old friend goodbye, and makes her way back down the fire escape alongside The Wolf. |
| Inevitably, an intrigued glow shines in her eyes. She looks up at his towering frame as they step onto the narrow sidewalk together. |
| "So, now that all the surprises have been revealed, and you've gotten a full look at today, I'd like to ask you professionally: are you feeling any better?" |
| The whiskers of Klint's beard bristle as he scoffs. "Carmenta, I'm feelin’ as good as can be for the first time since last month's Waxing Gibbous. Maybe you were onto somethin’ with tellin' The Boss I needed a vacation outside of Headquarters." |
| Just like that, it's her turn to scoff. "I did not tell The Boss I was sending you out on a vacation. Even so, I'm glad to hear that from you. Have you considered the possibility that maybe it was the collection of tea that put you back on track?" |
| He shudders. "Okay, now that might be pushin' it. I can now say for absolute certain that I'm indeed still a coffee guy— but hey, that sweet potato pie might've filled in the gap." |
| The two exchange lighthearted snickers and smirks until making it back to the convertible, swinging open their respective doors. Carmenta is busy pulling out the keys when Klint suddenly notices something out of the corner of his eye, and reaches over the hood to snatch it from the wipers before The Healer can even blink. |
| His jaw drops. |
| "Are you kiddin' me?!" |
| "Huh?" |
| "Looks like the surprises ain't over— we got ticketed! Can't they see this is a company vehicle? For Heroics no less? How much time did you punch in at the meter?" |
| "Oh dear, only an hour, I believe. Did we really overstay that long?" |
| The Wolf huffs. "I thought a tight little street like this would be immune to the patrol, what the fuck! Those bastards are always doin' everythin’ they can to make our work a living hell—" |
| "Klint." |
| "I already feel the high of the Full Moon comin' on, I swear—" |
| "Klint," Carmenta says firmly. "Get in the car and buckle up. Tickets are The Boss's problem, not ours." |
| It's not long after that that the duo find themselves back on the freeway, leaving the lofty hedges of Bellevue to climb their way back up to their personal little heaven back in Paradise Heights. Wind in their hair, another cigarette dangling from Klint's lips, the two of them prepare to fall back into the flow of work, waving their little day of relaxation goodbye. |
| Klint hums. The Boss was a nice guy, giving them one of the convertibles instead of those stuffy cars that had Klint cramped tightly under a roof. The least he could do was do the guy a favor. |
| As they drone up the cliff-side, without warning, The Wolf rips up their ticket and offers it to the breeze. Despite the onslaught of anti-littering protests from Carmenta, Klint leans back in his seat and reflects. |
| He's grateful for his opportunity to have some tea with The Healer. |
Heroics Unmasked
Scrapes and Sleepovers
Featuring:
Paisley Anderson, Tierney Hyun, Diane Camara, Farren Hines, Max Valen, Leah Hart
Word Count: 5852
Tags: workplace, blood and injury, wound care, sleepovers, homesickness, anxiety, light angst, hurt/comfort, developing friendships
| Being a Hero hurts and heals you in multiple ways. |
| Slowly, The Visionary peels the denim from her knees. |
| Sticky. Damp. Red. The patch leaves residue on her fingers, and when she lets the fabric sag loose from its stitches, she grimaces. |
| Despite the reinforcement built into her suit, it appears even it had trouble withstanding hardcore scrapes and friction. Battered and bruised, the skin of her knee looks tattered to the point of infection; a good guess would assume that the other looks the same. The rest of her body doesn’t look much better. |
| Her gaze finds the sky with a deep breath. Oh, don't puke, man. |
| Before the monologue can spiral, a hand goes to her shoulder. An inquisitive head darts out from behind, "Got trouble with blood?" |
| The Visionary's eyes lower, looking to her side. The Racer has already dropped to a knee to inspect the damage. |
| "Gnarly," they say simply. |
| "Don't say that," Vi's voice wavers. "Is it bad? Like, amputation bad?" |
| Racer squints, rubbing their chin with a closer look. |
| "Tad bit insensitive," they hum, rather unbothered. |
| "I can't help it, I'm like, trying not to freak out—" Vi bites her nails, only to recoil at the thick taste of iron. "If anyone would know, it'd be you, and I'm sorry, I really don't mean to be—" |
| "It's a scrape; the fact you're standing on it is good enough news." Racer peers up, maintaining their squint as the sun reflects off their glasses. "We've got Cores now. Adrenaline making your mind fuzzy?" |
| "I... I don't know?" |
| "Does it hurt?" |
| "I can't tell." |
| "Sounds like adrenaline." |
| The Racer rises to their feet, taking a quick note of the perimeter. Propping their fingers open to mimic a phone, they bring their pinky to their lips; the opposite hand gives one last squeeze of comfort to Vi's shoulder as they step away. |
| "Where is everyone?" |
| "Heroine. Back end of Claret Street." |
| "Hero. Claret with Heroine." |
| "Mage. Searching debris by the main market." |
| A hum. "Racer, top layer of Claret. Found Vi." |
| There's a collective sigh of relief on the other end. |
| "Debris over here hasn't been providing any clues. With Vi back, should we call for pickup?" |
| "Do it. I'll bring her to the market where you are." |
| From behind, Vi whines. "Seriously? I told you that The Eyes don't like doing that. Can't they come to us?" |
| The Racer turns, making a fist to close the comms. "We're near the top of The Junction. Think The Mage has the jumps to get up here?" |
| "You're not even supposed to make final call-outs like that, only The Captains—" As Vi grows more exasperated, air bubbles in her chest, and then— ouch! |
| "Gah, what the hell, my ribs sting!" |
| Stoically, The Racer walks back to her. Staring at the two giant eyeballs floating by her head, they set their hands on their hips. "Your adrenaline is ticking down. Get those two ready." |
| Vi groans while clutching her side, unable to scrape up the energy to make an argument. As she ushers her friends into her hair, she feels their tendrils knot tighter into her scalp, anxiously using her strands as a burrow. |
| She reluctantly nods, and The Racer hoists her over their shoulder. |
| --- |
| "Okay, dear, that's the last one." |
| Warm hands cusp Paisley's forehead, flattening the final bandage against her skin. "You promise you cleansed the wounds thoroughly, yes?" |
| "I did my best," she says. "It's hard to shower when everything hurts, not to mention the stinging. Whatever new soap they're supplying down in the showers is too powerful." |
| Carmenta offers a soft look. "Unfortunately, it may not have been the soap. Your wounds were fairly severe in some places, and I don't recall you sustaining anything quite so intense before. In fact, I'm shocked you were able to wash up in the first place." |
| "Well, the last thing I want is a sponge bath from my coworker..." Paisley sighs. "No offense." |
| "I would do it if it were necessary." |
| Paisley is about to object with her face buried in embarrassment, but something sincere holds her tongue. Instead, she takes a deep breath, feeling the bandages constrict around her body. |
| A sharp pain emanates from her back, wrapping around her side and choking her up front. She swallows it down whilst Carmenta watches with concern. |
| "Don't move or push yourself too much, dear. You're swathed up, but the healing process for these sorts of injuries isn’t instantaneous." |
| "I know, I know," the wince fades from her expression, "I'm just not used to getting hurt yet... same with healing from it. Thank you for helping me out, Miss Carmenta." |
| The concern in Carmenta's eyes melts into something tender. A maternal smile flowers on her gentle lips, “I will always help you when you're in need, Paisley. The bandages should provide more than plenty of healing benefits, but if anything goes wrong, I can take out a Core—" |
| "No!" Paisley groans. "I know those things are rare. How rare, I'm not sure, but I know we're not supposed to go around using them all willy-nilly. Don't give me special treatment just because I'm younger or something, okay? The bandages are great." |
| Carmenta maintains her kind demeanor. Instead of pushing or chastising, she simply nods and whispers, Okay. |
| She backs away from the couch, allowing room for Paisley to sit up and better get her bearings. It takes a moment for her to gather the courage, but once she does, she lugs her body upward and flops into the cushions behind her. |
| "Oh, yeah— where's my costume, by the way? Please tell me someone else is dealing with it." The look on her face is sour, but the way Carmenta chuckles seems to water it down. |
| "Leah is handling it. You looked tired, she said." |
| Paisley sighs heavily. "Well, am I ever thankful for her. I hate dealing with the ATM." |
| "She knows. Still, now that you're cleaned up, I'd recommend checking in with her. It doesn't hurt to get yourself more familiarized, and I fear Leah isn't the type to volunteer for others' duties for too long." |
| Carmenta moves to her desk as she speaks, gathering up her medical supplies and returning them to their spots in her cupboards and shelves. As much as Paisley liked to watch, using the hypnotic grace of Carmenta's movements as an excuse to procrastinate, she knew there was a fair point being made. |
| Looking down at herself, she stares at the bland robe Carmenta made her put on after hitting the showers. Her civilian clothes sat neatly folded next to her on the coffee table, and it all made her wonder how her suit was doing. She blinks slowly, mustering strength, and reaches forward to grab the stack. |
| The Eyes rumble awake from the movement, their tiny forms stirring into consciousness within her pigtails. |
| "I'll go change and see her then. Thanks again, Miss." |
| "Of course. Please be careful not to strain yourself, okay?" |
| "I will!" |
| --- |
| The ATM should stand for Annoyingly Terrible Mess, but it doesn't. Instead, it stands for Automatic Tailoring Marvel, which, really, it shouldn't. At least in Paisley's eyes. Both pairs of them. |
| She chews the inner wall of her cheek, limping around another corner as her hands absentmindedly fiddle with a bandage. Down the hall, to her surprise, she catches Farren, who's standing beside the machine and leaning against the wall. Curiosity gets the better of Paisley, and her posture rectifies before she's within eyeshot. |
| "Hey, Farren! Did Leah go somewhere with my suit?" she calls out. |
| Farren perks up, glancing around for the sudden voice before landing on Paisley. She draws herself up off the wall with a mousy grin. "Leah went somewhere, yeah, just not with your suit. I stole the duties from her." |
| Paisley's brows shoot up. "You willingly wanna work with this thing?" She motions toward the ATM as Farren rounds to the front of it. |
| "I do, actually! In fact, I asked Leah if I could do your suit instead, and she put up zero fight; she must not be all that willing to do these sorts of things either. So, I guess I didn't actually steal the duties. Rather, I just kinda... pawned them off on myself." |
| A feeling of guilt pools in Paisley's gut. Both from the fact that the duty of repairing her suit is being tossed around by the others, and also that Carmenta seemed to be correct about Leah and volunteering. |
| "Oh... well, I don't want this whole thing to be burdensome in the end, you know?" Paisley's shoulders sag forward. "Pawning my work around sounds kinda..." |
| "As if! You got hurt, which means none of us mind helping you out. Trust. Besides that, I've always really enjoyed costume-making. I know the ATM makes everything a little less hands-on, but it's still super neat—" Farren checks the screen, making sure everything is still in order, "— To me, at least. Your stuff is almost done, by the way." |
| "I was getting bandaged up for that long?" |
| "Guess so. I put all the accessories in first, then your tops, and finished off with the pants. I figured they'd take the longest, and yeah, it's been a while now." |
| Farren kneels, fiddling with the handle at the bottom of the machine that leads to a small storage compartment. She swings it open, revealing the neat stack of Paisley's suit that had already gone through. Her turtleneck, her sweater, her gloves, and all of her other knick-knacks present themselves as brand new and clean. |
| "You folded them too?" Paisley says worriedly. |
| "Had nothing else to do while waiting for these freaking pants!" Farren laughs. "I can't blame you, though. They were super wrecked." |
| From her crouched position, she glances over at Paisley, who's standing crookedly and still nursing her arms over her sides. "How're the injuries, by the way? I don't see any crutches or casts. That's always a good sign." |
| Paisley briefly laughs, "The pants were definitely in worse shape than me. But I think, if anything, I'm seeing how much damage the suit really sustains. It's kinda scary knowing that without it, I'd probably be some muck on the pavement..." she trails off. |
| "Ah, well, muck might be a bit much. You're a fighter, not some damsel. I think you'd be... shredded cheese, maybe? Something not so viscous." |
| The inquisitive look on Farren's face deviates when she returns to her heels, catching the distance in Paisley's glare. "Ah. Sorry." |
| Paisley, lost in her thoughts momentarily, murmurs something unintelligible. |
| She hopes the power imbued within her bandages will work fast enough before she has to return home for the night. Going out in public covered head-to-toe in random bits of gauze and tape was undoubtedly suspicious, right? In civvies, no less. No disguise, no suit, no protection. |
| How the hell am I gonna hide this? |
| "Hey, are you alright?" |
| "What time is it?" Paisley asks curtly. |
| Farren looks around before pointing up at a clock on the wall. "Quarter to six." |
| It’s getting late. |
| "I'll pick up everything together later, if that's okay. I think I need to go for a walk." |
| Farren's eyes scrunch sympathetically. She nods promptly, giving a hearty pat to the top of the ATM. "For sure, I'll put the pants in the bottom with the rest. You can get 'em whenever you're ready." |
| Paisley shares her thanks before staggering off. |
| "Hey, take care of yourself, alright?" |
| "I will.” |
| --- |
| Hi, Mom, it's Paisley. I was just calling to let you know that I won't be coming home tonight. It's nothing major to worry about, if that's what you're thinking. I just need to stay with a friend for the night to get some homework done; final exams, y'know, studying and all that. |
| I'll catch the bus with them to school in the morning, and I'll be back by dinner. If you're listening later and I'm already home, then you can just ignore this. |
| Love you. Buh-bye. |
| --- |
| At this point, Paisley has worriedly chewed the inside of her cheek more than she has chewed her food. |
| "Well, by the sounds of it, the voicemail went well, yeah? Unless... wait. Strict parents? The type that don't let you stay out too late?" Max gulps down a shot of smoothie, slamming the bottle back on the table before Paisley can answer. All the girl can do is muster a frown, her voice exhausted. |
| "The opposite, actually." |
| When the heads at the table all turn to her inquisitively, she sinks further into her chair and lets the weight of her body sag with defeat. |
| "Mom doesn't really ever care what I do. There's a part of me that's relieved— it makes lying easier, whether for better or for worse— but I dunno. It's too easy." She pauses briefly, as if to contemplate the validity of her next words. "Mom probably doesn't even know that I don't have friends either. If she did, she'd sniff out that lie from a mile away." |
| "You have friends here," Carmenta instinctively adds, "though I understand it's not the same." |
| Paisley fidgets with a bandage that's beginning to furl from her finger. "I don't know. Lies or not, friends or not, I've been feeling sick all day, to be honest." |
| "What exactly is making you sick?" Leah asks. |
| "Just... everything, I don't know. I was so scared of going out and looking suspicious, and I know Mom doesn't pay much attention, but now I'm going to be away from home, and... ugh... I can't finish this," Paisley shoves her plate back, using the table space to drop her head in her hands. |
| Carmenta leans over and nurses her shoulder. "Darling, is it possible that what you're feeling could be a bout of homesickness?" |
| "I don't know, I've been feeling like this ever since the mission today! Agh, and I don't even know what homesickness is supposed to feel like— I've never been away from home for very long. I don't even think I've ever had a sleepover in my life." |
| "Nerd," Tierney scoffs under their breath. |
| "Hey, watch it, Four Eyes," Max bites. |
| "You watch it, I'm not the only 'four eyes' here," Tierney jabs a thumb in the direction of Paisley and The Eyes. |
| The Eyes, nor Paisley, react. Neither can muster up their usual bubbly personalities, never mind find the time to fight for a comeback. |
| "No arguing in the dining hall," Carmenta glowers. |
| "That rule is for when we have event dinners. Anything unofficial or after-hours is free game," Tierney says. However, after engaging in a conversation that turned out to be quite monotonous, alongside eating some equally boring snacks, they opt to push out their seat and drop the argument altogether. |
| "Anyway, I'm going home soon. Get well for us, Vi." |
| WHOOSH. |
| Paisley slowly raises her head, her eyes drooping at the sight of Tierney's empty seat. None of the gathered Heroes says a word, until Paisley breaks the tense silence with a wavering sigh. |
| "I hate burdening people." |
| "Tierney didn’t call you a burden," Leah says. |
| "Okay, but now I feel like they’re mad at me, even though they were the one who helped me during the mission earlier. Then, I had to spend all of Miss Carmenta's time getting help, all while you decided you didn't actually want to waste time on my suit. Now I've got people wasting their time on me right now because I'm homesick or something," she sulks. "This sucks." |
| "Paisley. It's okay to need help, and it's okay to ask for it as well." Carmenta rubs her arm. "You're okay. We've already confirmed with The Boss that you're allowed to spend the night. He gave you direct permission—" |
| "I know, but what if it has to happen again? I'm not as strong as the others with getting hurt, and I still don't know how to balance all the different stuff between being a civvie and a Hero—" |
| "Paisley." |
| "What?" |
| "You are safe for tonight. 'Next time' is irrelevant." |
| The tough love in Carmenta's voice dismantles everything. Like a punch to the gut, Paisley feels the wind taken out of her argument and slumps further into her chair. Her head is buzzing. Her heart thumps. |
| "But you said you can't stay," she whispers. Carmenta's spirit wavers. |
| "You know I would if I could, dear, but I have my own young ones to look after. I'm just like you; still searching for a way to balance my different lives. We're all still figuring these things out, and it's not easy for any of us, but we do what we can to keep ourselves and each other safe." |
| It's not the lengthiest piece of reassurance out there, but it helps. |
| Paisley's chin dips, staring down at her lap. Where was the line that turned rational fears irrational? Was asking for the answers to questions humanity has never had as productive as shouting into the void? |
| She mumbles to herself. Something unsure. |
| "You are not alone, Paisley. I won't allow you to spend the night without some comfort or company." Carmenta's eyes stiffen, skimming across the table with a look that can only be described as motherly determination. "Max, Leah. Allow me to request this of you, at the very least." |
| An embarrassed flush suddenly blazes across Paisley's cheeks, "Huh? Wait! I'm no baby—" |
| "I really don't mean to impede you, Carmenta," Max starts, "but don't Klint and Cepha have quarters here? Y'know, it'd make things convenient, and surely they'd be willing to help her out." |
| Leah crosses her arms, a rare sign of allegiance to Max's case. The last thing either of them wants is a slumber party involving each other. |
| "Indeed. However, Klint gets exceptionally tired during the week, and I wouldn't leave anyone with a fragile state of mind in the hands of Cepha for very long. Surely you see my point, don't you?" |
| Hesitation flares in Leah when she sees Paisley squirming uncomfortably. Still, she hardens her gaze, propping her hands on the table. "You're aware of my other life too, right? I'm not exactly a woman with a lot of time to spare." |
| Paisley frowns. It takes everything within her to hold back a wince, and it's not from the pain lurking under the gauze. "I... I am. I know." |
| "Don't get too snippy now, Leah," Carmenta warns. "You know the company has measures put in place specifically fit to cater you." |
| Max is unable to hide his own second-hand wince. Attempting to look casual and not a target, he reaches for his smoothie shaker, glugging down a larger-than-necessary sip. His gulps are the only thing that sever the intensity of the awkward silence. |
| Carmenta eyes the two of them steadily. Leah stares back. |
| "I respect you a lot, Carmenta. But, when it comes to things like this, I'm not a fan of short notice." A breath. "Regardless, I suppose I'll do it." |
| Carmenta’s mood shifts again, and she smiles. Genuinely. "We're all still figuring things out. My apologies, Leah. I reciprocate your respect, and I'll do better in the future to accommodate it. Now, as for you, Hero, do you have any more questions?" |
| Leah cuts in, "Truly, is it really necessary for him to tag along?" |
| "I'd prefer more helping hands, so, yes. Consider it a team-building exercise, but as a duo. Unfortunately, as our leaders, I feel that your qualms with each other need to be focused on and ironed out. Supporting Paisley should help with that." |
| "You talk a lot for a lady who's not in the same position of power as The Boss," Max says blatantly, "but whatever, yeah, I'll do it. I've got nothing against the girl." |
| The latter can only dart their eyes across the table in mortification. Undoubtedly, this was one of the biggest embarrassments she's experienced as a Hero yet. Face ignited to her ears in a heated flush, she cringes her body into itself and drops her head again; her hair almost falls into her discarded plate of food. |
| "Perfect, it's settled then. As for you, Paisley, it'd probably be best to get some food in your system before it gets any later. Do you intend to finish your dinner?" |
| All the poor girl can do is mutter a string of incomprehensible grumbles. |
| "Give it to Hero, he's like the company dog." |
| "No I'm not, Leah. You mean Klint?" |
| "No." |
| --- |
| Nobody in all of New Skyline could compare to The Boss when it came to being prepared. |
| Within his very own architectural achievement, the Headquarters building for Heroics, came many amenities and accommodations. One of these was the dormitory floor, created to house occupants for a multitude of reasons. Whether an employee needed to retreat for rest, a civilian needed to be housed under surveillance, or perhaps a perpetrator required temporary confinement... the list was extensive. The Boss would simply have it no other way. |
| "I'll check in with you tomorrow," Carmenta had said before leaving. "I'll return to my office during my usual hours. I pray your wounds cause you no trouble, darling." |
| It's quiet enough in the room for the words to echo within Paisley's head. Slowly, she looks down at the pajamas in her lap, then at her uniform on the edge of the bed. Leah was in the bathroom getting changed, and Max was busy setting up a makeshift sleeping area on the floor. |
| "Are you sure you're okay down there?" She speaks up sheepishly. |
| Max pauses for a moment. Turning, his face drops into an overtly deadpan stare. |
| "You've got to be kidding, right?" he raises a brow. "Surely you don't think so low of me that I'd kick the injured kid to the floor." |
| Paisley grimaces lightly. "Well, when you put it like that, I sound kinda stupid." |
| Surprisingly enough, Max laughs. It's nothing substantial, but the crinkle in his eyes is enough to put her at ease. |
| "You do, actually. But that's okay, I understand that your heart's in the right place. Just stay focused on trying to get better." |
| He returns to fluffing a pillow, setting it down just before the bathroom door swings open. Out of it comes Leah, dressed in the provided company sleepwear: sleek white pants and an equally polished button-up. The usual high ponytail near the crown of her head has switched places to instead drape over her shoulder. |
| "Wow, how snazzy are you?" Max scoffs. |
| "Very. Could have gone without all the satin, though. Get your ass in there and let's see how snazzy you come out looking." Her eyes dart up in that instance, as if she had forgotten about the younger of the group, "Unless you wanted to go in?" |
| Paisley promptly shakes her head. "No, no, I'm okay. Max can go." |
| "Sweet," he says, snagging his own stack of clothes off a nearby dresser. He rushes abruptly past Leah, shooting her a quick nod upon grabbing the handle to the bathroom door. "Oh, and feel free to finish up the setup. Y'know, with how apparently you're the better leader and all." |
| The door closes before Leah can seize the chance to argue. With a groan, she rolls her eyes and sinks her knees into the mess of blankets and pillows her wise-guy companion had tossed together. |
| She doesn't seem interested in talking at first, and not wanting to push, Paisley moves her focus to The Eyes. Nestled into her hair, she sees their fatigue reflected in their tiny, restless movements. Her own eyes soften, and gathering her companions together, she huddles them into her body. |
| "Long day... I know..." she whispers. "We'll go to bed soon. It's not home, but it's the next best thing." |
| The Eyes ease a bit, settling into the warmth. |
| "You both did good today. I know you don't like traveling with Tierney, but it kept us safe. We'll get used to it as time goes on, I think." |
| Leah can't quite see what's happening out of the corner of her eye, but she hears some rustling. The bed creaks, the blankets shuffle, and after a brief period spent focusing on her own chore, she decides to peek over. |
| The usual flow of Paisley's pigtails has been retired, instead replaced by the waves of her hair cascading along her shoulders and the mattress behind. In a rather unsightly manner, The Eyes unplug for the night, their tendrils slithering their way out of the knotted strands near her scalp. |
| "You know," Leah cuts the silence with some small talk, "I'm not sure if I'll ever get used to them." |
| "What? The Eyes?" |
| "Yeah. I don't know if I could even handle touching them." |
| Paisley, petting them as they shrink down, can't help but chortle. "They don't bite. They literally can't." |
| Leah clicks her tongue, "Right." A pause. "You really treat them like they're pets, rather than a power. It's interesting." |
| Paisley hums. Scooping them up into her hands to better assist them, she moves to plop them onto the stack of her uniform. Eagerly, they nestle into the fabric of her freshly printed hoodie. |
| "That's because they are more than a power." |
| "... I guess so. What were their names again? I can never seem to remember." |
| "Sera and Rhett," Paisley picks up the stack and places it on the dresser, giving them their space for the night. "But I get it. The Eyes is an easier name for everyone to remember anyway." |
| Leah hums in neutral agreement. Looking back toward the task at hand, she smooths out her final blanket and ensures that the pillow wall separating her and The Hero is sturdy enough. His side remains tasseled and not quite as tidy; her time was too precious to waste on such frivolous matters. |
| Yes... wasted time. |
| Without really knowing why, Leah reflects on her experience in the dining hall earlier. She's not usually one to get stung— if anything, she's known to be the one who stings— but a particular comment seems to wriggle its way back into her consciousness. |
| "I had to spend all of Miss Carmenta's time getting help, all while you decided you didn't actually want to waste time on my suit." |
| She sneaks a glance over her shoulder. Paisley sits on the bed again, her hands folded in her lap as she stares blankly downward. Unprovoked to converse, not a peep passes her hushed lips. |
| "You're aware of my other life too, right? I'm not exactly a woman with a lot of time to spare." |
| Unprovoked, in general, was usually the best way to describe The Visionary. It seemed like only yesterday that the Heroes under Heroics initially met, and in reality, the truth wasn't so exaggerated. All of them only had a couple months under their belt, and in that time, The Visionary, despite their bubbly and outward persona, really just seemed like a shy young kid behind the façade. |
| Paisley had only just turned seventeen, and still, she remained the only kid on the team. Naturally, it wouldn't be unrealistic to feel like the outcast in that position. |
| Something deep flutters in Leah's chest. An uncomfortable feeling, one that she can feel stretch from her ribs, up to her shoulders, and down to her stomach. It's only a brief sensation, but it hurts. She furrows her brow and suppresses herself. |
| Leah wasn't a personal mentor; far from it. She wasn't a friend, she was a leader. During her own time as a kid, during her own years as a teenager, she learned that's what she was. Even if she tried to deviate from it, years of programming led her down her true path. It wasn't like she was pushed to say something she didn't mean; she did mean it. What was the point of feeling guilt over your true self? |
| … |
| "I'm glad your suit got fixed up properly," she says suddenly, motioning to the pile on the dresser nestled with The Eyes. "I'm sorry I didn't commit to it. I saw how badly it got fucked up after we got back, and I didn't want it to sit around untouched while you got bandaged. Still, I was also glad when Farren came and offered to take over." |
| Paisley looks up. Leah still has her back turned to her, but she focuses on her nonetheless. Stoic. Untouchable. Despite her words, her tone ran cold. Paisley isn't exactly sure what to think— if anything, she wants to avoid any more awkward interactions. So she just sighs, forcing her mouth into a smile. |
| "It's okay, I don't like dealing with the ATM, anyway. If I were you, I'd also probably just get someone else to do it." |
| Leah winces. That wasn't a great response. |
| Try again. |
| "Maybe you would, but I shouldn't be allowed to have that option." |
| "What do you mean?" |
| Leah turns, shuffling on her knees to give a stern look at her opposite. "I'm your leader; it's in my contract and part of my duty to help the team. I didn't act appropriately for you, and that is a fault on my part. Next time, I'll work to do better for you." |
| Paisley absentmindedly fiddles with her bandages. A beat of silence passes before she shrugs and nods stiffly. "Okay." |
| ... |
| Try again. |
| … |
| "Paisley." |
| The girl squirms uncomfortably under her gaze. "Yes?" |
| Leah stands, and there's a look in her eyes that Paisley doesn't quite recall ever seeing. It's soft, but in a way that reminds her of the New Skyline winter. Solemn, cold. When the snow on the ground chills over and begins to crystallize. When the city is blanketed and hidden away, making the world seem so much smaller. It's claustrophobic. It's serene. The fidgeting stops. |
| "Please. Be the hero who holds me accountable." |
| Mirrored within those cold blue eyes, Paisley’s own widen imperceptibly. |
| The bathroom door abruptly swings open. Out of it strolls Max, dressed comfortably in satin with the compartments of his uniform slung over his arm. Before Paisley can take a breath to respond, Leah turns, crossing her arms and throwing on a smirk. The girl doesn't move; she only stares, lost within the form of a statue. |
| "Wow, classy indeed," Leah sneers. |
| "I said snazzy, not classy. Nice memory there, Captain." |
| "Doesn't matter. Maybe it's a good thing you're sleeping on the floor, 'cause you look like you'd slip right off the bedsheets." |
| "You can’t say that when you’re wearing— hey, what the fuck!" Max suddenly glowers, frowning as he looks down at the ground. "Oh, let me take a wild guess. I'm assuming this is my side?" |
| "Fit for a Captain such as yourself." |
| "Do you pride yourself on being a bitch?" |
| "Only as much as you pride yourself on being an annoying suck-tit." |
| Paisley manages to slink away to the bathroom. As she shuts the door, clicking the lock silently, she stares down at her own set of pajamas and pauses. |
| Be the hero who holds me accountable. |
| What did that even mean? |
| She thinks about it as she feels the cool air hit her skin. Ponders it all as she does up the buttons of her shirt. When she grabs the mess of her civilian clothes off the ground, she thinks of Leah's face and the expression painted upon it. Was it possible to look as cold as ice, yet convey such powerful emotions through eyes as still as stone? |
| When she opens the door, Max is frustratedly trying to fix his mess of blankets, whilst Leah lies on the other side, tucked under her own. Both pairs of eyes fly to Paisley when she walks in, and both take a moment to freeze before Max chuckles. |
| "Welcome to the snazzy gang, Pais'." |
| Paisley stands confused for a beat before looking down at herself in realization. "Oh, right. This is a gang now?" |
| "Starting now, yes. Anyone who didn't come to help can't consider themselves part of the crew. Pretty exclusive stuff," Max nods. |
| "Who's the leader?" |
| "We'll keep things simple," Leah says. "You." |
| Max doesn't argue. |
| Paisley stands in place for a short while. Everything about her day grew more confusing and dizzying by the hour, and she still can't pinpoint the thoughts behind Leah's eyes. At least the awkward tension from before seemed to dissipate within Max's presence. She's thankful for it, and feeling her own tensions begin to melt away, she even manages to smile. |
| "Makes sense," she walks towards her bed, "I do have the best seat in the house, after all." |
| "Of course. Make sure to put it to good use," Max says. "Remember what I told you: stay focused on getting better. We're here to help you, Paisley." |
| Unexpectedly, Leah nods in agreement with her partner. |
| --- |
| The remnants of the day fade as the nightly hours encompass the heroes. Floorboards drenched in moonlight, stars twinkling outside, Paisley stares out the window as exhaustion takes over her body. Max's nose whistles as he lies splayed on top of his sheets with his shirt unbuttoned, and Leah remains scrunched into a ball of blankets and quiet snores with her back facing the pillow wall. |
| Paisley, despite always being the outcast in life, despite being the young odd-one-out in the company, begins to feel something new blossom within her chest as she looks down at them. It’s foreign and unfamiliar, but in the quiet of the night, she ponders if this is what it feels like to be included. |
| "What you said earlier," she says, quiet enough as not to wake Max, "I still don't get it." |
| Leah looks up from her spot on the floor. "When? During the mission?" |
| "No, here. You said, 'Be the hero who holds me accountable’. What does that mean?" |
| Leah shifts. Under the straggling light of the rising moon, somehow, she defies the odds and doesn't look so cold. She looks... vulnerable, like the previous look in her eyes had bled into the rest of her body. In a room so quiet, with nothing but the hum of the building's inner workings to ease the silence, she takes a deep breath. |
| "You behold the future, Vi. These days, as a Hero, I'm struggling to set my own path. But, through you, beyond even just your powers, you can shape the rest of us. You’re not a burden, you’re a Hero. Utilize your youth before you lose it. Use it to hold me accountable, Paisley." |
| Tucked under her blanket, the bandage Paisley has been fidgeting with on her hand all day starts to unwind. She’s suddenly scared that she may have ruined it, so she scrambles to wrap it back up, but to no avail. Squinting to see in the moonlight, but also to brace for something unsightly, she brings her arm to her face and lifts the gauze completely off. |
| Her skin shines; the wound is no more. |
| In an instant, the rest of the bandages on her body no longer feel so scary. And slowly and unknowingly, before she drifts to sleep, the remainder of her homesickness and worries dwindle away. |
| "... I will." |