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Nights that are quiet like this felt innocent to Yuuri, as if he were walking hand in hand with a shy child. This night whispered with occasional passing cars, slow footsteps, the rustle of branches, and crickets. The Mediterranean night air was briny with the gentle autumnal scent of persimmons and olives as it settled on terracotta rooftops. Far from the city, the sky was free from the shroud of smog so thousands of stars winked behind slivers of grey clouds. Yuuri couldn’t ask for a better night for a heist. When he deactivated the security system on the west wing of Madame Stint’s estate and climbed into her bedroom window, he felt as if he were walking into his own home, his own bedroom.Floor plan memorized from Phichit’s intel, he made his way to the ground floor with ease, as if he did indeed live there. Madame Stint was not home but her lurid sense of style was. Depictions of birds of paradise adorned nearly every surface. Even the ceiling was a swirling mass of tropical feathers, monstera leaves, and gold trim. Her home had the distinct feel of the inside of a jungle canopy as the hurricane of color and deep plum wood surfaces with glimmering accents made one feel closed in by something wild and ever growing. The lady of the house was accompanying her wife on a weekend trip to attend Prince Eric and Lara Byrd’s wedding in London. He assured his buyer that the job would be done long before their return.The ground floor was just as opulent as the rest of the house with a high ceiling and long, purple satin curtains draped over towering windows. On the wall opposite the entrance that Yuuri stood in was a marble sculpture of Psyche’s limp body wrapped in Cupid’s arms, flocked on both sides by gargantuan flowerpots overflowing with camellias and peacock feathers perched on pedestals. In front of the sculpture, two rows of glass display cases housed necklaces, earrings, and assorted jewels that winked at Yuuri in the night, but none of them interested him. He admitted that he had unfairly specific taste, but at least he had buyers that shared his preferences. He walked past the inviting twinkle of jewels to Psyche and her lover. He cupped Cupid’s cold cheek and probed behind the statue’s ear. He found what he was looking for.Yuuri pressed the concealed button and Cupid began to sink into the ground, taking Psyche and the wall behind the couple with him to reveal a vault twice as tall as Yuuri.“Shit, Phichit,’ he murmured into his comm link.“I didn’t say it would be easy, hot shot.”Yuuri smirked under his mask. “I didn’t say I was complaining.” Phichit chuckled in his ear.“By the way, I’m meeting with Lam Pok Chi in about five minutes about a deal you might be interested in.”“You’re spoiling me. Won’t your other clients say that you’re giving me preferential treatment?” Yuuri whispered, smiling, and pulling out his tools to get to work on the vault.“They would. And I would tell them they were right because you’re better than them and I don’t particularly care about them.”“Really, to their faces?”“Of course. But anyway, Lam is a stickler for time—”“You’re a speedster so that shouldn’t be a problem—”“The problem is that I technically double booked. I forgot you’d still be at Stint’s. I don’t think the deal should take longer than an hour, so I can have the cameras and everything back online at Stint’s once I’m done with Lam but… in less than five minutes, I’m afraid you’re going to be on your own.”“Is that all?” Metal gears in the vault door had begun to whine and spin, much to Yuuri’s pleasure. “I’m a big boy, Phichit. Besides, I’m almost done here.”“That’s why you’re the best. I love an independent worker. I’ll stay on the line for the next three minutes. I’m still meeting up with you afterwards for the exchange with Gar Blanco so don’t worry.”“Thanks,” Yuuri let the vault swing open as he readjusted his utility belt. Here was the real prize.The space was small and simple with lighting that complemented the facets of the rubies staring back at Yuuri. There were four, each the size of his fist, each a deep, loving red. Hello, darlings. Yuuri felt his heart melt a little at the sight, but he didn’t slow down. The glass display case was simpler and seemed lighter than the ones outside—Yuuri noted the wood paneled base and thought that the glass could be easily lifted off it. Madame Stint must have thought that the vault would be enough protection. He bent down to get a better look at the glass, and sure enough, strands of silk and wool clung to the surface, no doubt from Stint’s gloved fingers lifting the glass on and off the display.He couldn’t blame her.Yuuri carefully hoisted the glass off and set it carefully on the ground. The rubies shined brighter without a barrier. He gingerly picked one up and angled it in the light to study its clarity. The facets and depth of color seemed never ending, its passionate glittering striking a match in Yuuri’s chest. He felt his arms tingle and he placed the gem in a special compartment on his utility belt before his grip could become too possessive.There was something about rubies that made him greedier than he was.He relieved Stint of her entire collection and placed the glass case back on its base before turning to leave, the gems burning a hole on his hip. Using his tools, he shut the vault tight as it was before. He stepped out of Cupid’s and Psyche’s way when he heard the final metallic clang of the vault’s gears. They rose from the ground to protect Madame Stint’s collection which was now bare. He grinned to himself, thinking the mission had been simple enough. He heard footsteps.Yuuri ducked and rolled behind one of the jewelry displays and listened closely. Someone was definitely coming his way. He adjusted his comm link under his mask.“Say, Phichit, how much time do I have left with you?”“None. I’m walking into the meet-point right now. What’s up?”“Oh, nothing,” Yuuri whispered as he watched a shadow stretch in front of his only exit. “It’s just that I think I might have a guest.”“I trust you’ll be a gracious host.”“Of course,” Yuuri breathed into the comm before slinking closer to the entrance, sticking to the shadows along the wall.”“I’ve got to go,” Phichit whispered.“Good luck.”“You too.”Turning his comm off, Yuuri stared intently at the entrance when the newcomer made their appearance. It was Scavenger. Yuuri rolled his eyes and repressed a sigh when he recognized the tank top and two utility belts strapped across the thief’s thick chest. He also noticed Scavenger’s swishing tail and flexing claws.
What are you doing here?
Scavenger, though skilled, was unnecessarily boisterous. He ransacked the places he robbed, set fires, picked fights when he could, and scratched his villain name onto any surface. He liked leaving evidence. It was nothing like Yuuri’s M-O and though Yuuri got what he came for, he didn’t want Scavenger wrecking the place. It would draw attention where it wasn’t needed and sooner than Yuuri would like. Yuuri didn’t come for a fight, but there was no avoiding it when it came to the 6’6, three-hundred-pound mutant that was Scavenger. He rolled his neck and shook his wrists loose before crouching low.Yuuri let Scavenger step into the room and just as he raised his thick paw like hand to smash the nearest display case, Yuuri leapt for his adversary’s wrist, determined to get it in a clinch hold, but Scavenger whipped around in time, and Yuuri rolled back into the shadow of another display case. The thief’s furry ears perked up and he leered, revealing yellow fangs.“I can smell you,” he hissed. Yuuri winced and thought of a way to end it quickly—he did not like being seen, and it seemed Scavenger was closing the gap between him. “I can almost taste your blood.” He was coming at Yuuri head on. There was no way to surprise Scavenger while facing him and without leaving evidence in the room. He screwed up. “What? You don’t want to play with me? Afraid of dogs?” Scavenger howled, a terrible earth chilling noise that shook the walls. Yuuri suppressed a shiver before steeling himself for what he was about to do.He rose out of the shadows, his suit, an extension of the darkness, was all black, from head to toe, revealing nothing but his hard silhouette. Scavenger tilted his head at him like a bewildered puppy but leered anyways as Yuuri took a calm step to him.“What are you?” he rasped. Yuuri did not answer. He did not move. He waited. Scavenger’s leer turned to a deep grimace and he growled at Yuuri’s silence, his furry ears falling flat against his skull. “Someone must’ve sent you to play with me. Who was it? Did Agni tip you off?”Yuuri rolled his eyes at that. Phichit doesn’t deal with hitmen. It was strange to him though that Scavenger knew his friend’s…work name. Was he a client of Phichit’s?Scavenger was only making himself angrier, raising his own heckles at the thought of an assassin coming after him and when he raised his beefy fist again, Yuuri struck like a cobra, clinching his wrist in both of his hands and slamming Scavenger’s body to the ground in a scissor choke hold. He bared down on Scavenger’s windpipe with all his might, his legs struggling to make a dent in the layers of muscle protecting him. He grunted with the effort, trying to work quickly, but Scavenger managed to rip Yuuri’s leg off of his throat and toss Yuuri across the room. He landed hard on his back, the wind knocked out of him, but he stood quickly, measured his breaths. He noticed Scavenger rasping too, and he waited for the mad dog to charge at him.In an instant, razor sharp claws flew wildly at his face and Yuuri side stepped the action, not bothering to parry. He danced around Scavenger as he threw lethal swings at Yuuri who was trying to find a weak point. Just as Yuuri leaned left to avoid his opponent’s deathly grip, Scavenger struck him hard in the stomach with a kick that winded Yuuri for half a second too long. Scavenger knocked him off his feet with a square punch to the chest.Lying on his back, Scavenger nearly fell on top of him, snarling and barking, but Yuuri caught his hands, gripped hard, and pushed back to keep Scavenger’s gruesome teeth inches away from his face. Fuck, you’re strong. Yuuri kicked him hard in the stomach as petty revenge and Scavenger choked on the impact. Yuuri kicked again and held tight to Scavenger’s hands, making sure he didn’t fly across the room and break something.Scavenger stood to avoid the kicks and brought Yuuri with him, holding him in the air at arm’s length, but Yuuri used the height to swing a kick upwards into Scavenger’s chin. Scavenger dropped Yuuri who squatted low before rocketing the top of his head into Scavenger’s chin. He landed all his strength in a turning kick to his opponent’s ribs. Scavenger dropped to his knees, and to be sure, Yuuri punched him out cold.Yuuri sighed and rubbed a particularly sore spot on his back before bending down to wrap Scavenger’s meaty arms around his shoulders and drag his unconscious body out of the display room. He reached up to turn his comm back on.“Phichit, you still busy?”“Mhmm.”“Just letting you know I handled the guest and I’m on my way out.”“Mmmhmm.”Yuuri giggled. Phichit was probably trying to communicate with Yuuri discreetly while he negotiated with Lam Pok Chi. He didn’t want to distract him from work, so he turned the comm off again as he made his way back to the fourth floor. He dragged Scavenger’s body across Madame Stint’s bedroom and rolled it out onto the roof. He manually reactivated one of her many security systems after shutting her window and made a death defying leap to the ground with his opponent draped over his back. He walked a stupid distance to the gate of Madame Stint’s estate, knowing that it would remain unlocked until Phichit wrapped up his deal with Lam.His motorcycle was parked outside the gate, but he walked about two miles down the hill from Madame Stint’s estate until another manor was in sight. He dropped Scavenger’s body on the side of the road, far enough away that no one would suspect that he had been in Stint’s home if they found him here. He cracked his neck and stretching, he regarded the knocked-out mutant.“You probably won’t believe this,” Yuuri muttered, “but I’m actually a huge fan of dogs.” He trudged back to his motorcycle. * Gar Blanco met Agni and the cat burglar in one of his abandoned warehouses with six of his men. There was nothing in the warehouse except a simple table. Gar studied the cat burglar from across the table as one of his men stood between them to count out six hundred thousand dollars for the thief.Gar couldn’t get a read on him. Agni was easy—he was famous for his animated and deceptively warm demeanor. His friend couldn’t be more different. Agni entertained everyone there with a story about a run in with an exotic animal smuggler in Beijing while the cat burglar stood to his right, arms crossed and silent as a rock. Both wore masks—Agni, a black one with a painted red and gold bird, and the cat burglar, a black one most likely crafted from Pandora’s Iron—but Agni’s personality could not be contained by his.The other part was that the cat burglar never spoke. Agni had set him up with the burglar without even giving him a name, just telling him that the man before him specialized in stealing rubies. Apparently, he would steal other jewels, but it was rare and would be significantly more expensive. That suited Gar just fine because he only wanted rubies. And the thief seemed to be trustworthy—he brought back the three rubies he wanted and he did it within a reasonable time frame. Agni told him to expect both him and the thief to return from the heist at around midnight and he was right. Gar couldn’t complain. He tilted his head at the burglar when Agni picked up a stack of cash from the briefcase to flip through.“Agni was right about you,” Gar said, inclining his head to the thief and trying to start conversation. “You’re quite efficient. You must’ve been doing this for some time now.” He sniffed at the lack of response and turned his attention to Agni who shrugged and told Gar not to worry about it before thumbing bills from his own pay back on to the table. Gar raised an eyebrow at him as he closed the briefcase containing the rest of the payment and made to leave with his friend.“Hold on, hold on! What’s this? I know for a fact we didn’t over pay you so what are you doing?” He picked up the stack and counted ten thousand. He chuckled. “Is this like a discount?” The cat burglar turned back around and stared – Gar thought he stared, it was hard to tell with the mask. Agni spun around and clapped his hands together. Gar imagined Agni smiling sheepishly.“Ah. Yes, well,” he put a hand on the thief’s shoulder, “my associate insists that we don’t charge full price since he was technically late coming back here.”“Eh?!”“You see, we agreed to meet up at midnight, and we arrived at 12:05. He regrets breaching such an important part of our contract so,” he pointed at the stack left on the table, “please accept our apologies.”The cat burglar bowed his head a small amount before turning to go. Agni saluted Gar’s men before following him and leaving Gar Blanco speechless. * Yuuri and Phichit arrived at their apartment with Chinese takeout and a ten dollar bottle of Riesling. They slumped together on their sofa, Yuuri still in his stealth suit (he had worn a black trench coat into the building for discretion), and Phichit still in his suit-suit. Phichit’s mask, black and adorned with a red bird, was left on the kitchen counter, and he loosened his tie as he sunk further into the cushions. Yuuri shrugged his coat off and threw it across the room. He flicked Netflix on until he found a mindless baking show to play. Phichit took a swig straight from the bottle of Riesling before passing it off to Yuuri.“How did things go with Lam Pok Chi?”“Eager, aren’t you?” Phichit smiled through a mouth full of chicken.“I’m just curious. I didn’t know he had a penchant for rubies.”“I never said it was rubies.”“You said I’d be interested!” Yuuri pouted at Phichit who laughed.“I still think you’ll be interested. I just need to work out the details. And yes. There will be rubies. Eventually.” Yuuri hummed skeptically at Phichit who wiggled his eyebrows at him. “You might wanna start thinking about early retirement.”“That good, huh?”“I mean, most likely it’ll be what you’re used to, but how long do you want to keep this up? Stealing, I mean. You’re trying to be a doctor and I think you’re more than half way there at this point.”“It’s not that simple…” Although Yuuri had ample access to it, he didn’t like talking about money. His nursing school costs were pretty much paid off at this point, Mari’s medical bills were easy enough to handle. All that was left… was his parents’ debt. It was a problem that never slept, but he couldn’t leave them without support, especially since it meant angering the yakuza. His parents had abandoned their checkered past because it had evolved into something darker than they could handle, something so irredeemably sinister that no amount of wealth or familial ties could convince them to stay. The price of leaving was steep and rapidly incurring interest. New fees were constantly and sporadically tacked on to the original cost, at the whim of a particularly nasty denizen of death, Ikki Fujiwara. Ikki set the cost years before even Mari was born. There was no way that their hot spring— which in the past doubled as a front— could garner enough profit to pay them off so when Yuuri was thirteen, he stepped in, training under a family friend to become a cat-burglar. He wanted to free his parents, but that goal seemed so far out of reach. His parents no longer worked for the Yakuza, but became their prisoners instead. It was Ikki’s idea of mercy. Considering the alternative, regrettably, Yuuri had to agree. “I know but, what’s the goal here, bud? Do you have a timeline,” Phichit asked.“Do you? Are you getting tired of this?”“I love being an info broker, but you know me—I get restless staying in one place for too long. And I don’t quite like the criminal label that comes along with the job. It’s not me and it gets me close to matters that are messier than I can handle.”“Well me too, but I don’t… I don’t know I just don’t see myself as a cut and dry criminal.” Phichit gave him a look, making Yuuri chuckle and back track. “Yeah, I’m technically breaking the law but… I’m harmless. And I’m making a living.“Speaking of harmless, how was your guest tonight? At Stint’s place?”“Absolutely terrible.” He had almost forgotten. “Do you make deals with Scavenger?”“What? Why?”Yuuri took a big gulp of wine before continuing. “Because! That was my guest! And he mentioned you. He seemed to think that I was a hitman who got information from you about him. Why would he think that?”“Well… Scavenger is one of my clients—”“Ugh, Phichit…” he sipped the wine. “Did you… tell him about Stint’s rubies too?”Phichit’s mouth dropped open in shock, genuinely wounded. “What?! Of course not! I know rubies are your thing, I would never!”“Why was he there then?”“I may have told Scavenger that Stint had a jewelry collection, but that was ages ago. He probably thought this was the best night to steal them since she was on vacation.”Yuuri frowned at that and stirred his cashew shrimp. “He really had it out for me.”“But he knows as well as anyone that I don’t deal with assassins, human traffickers, none of that. Thieves only. Scavenger is kind of a dirty dog, but he’s not a murderer,” Phichit slurped up some noodles and reached for the bottle of Riesling which Yuuri yanked out of his reach. “What?! He’s never actually hurt-hurt anybody! All the fights he gets in are with heroes and other thieves. And even then, they all turn out fine.”“He almost killed me.”“He probably thought you were trying to kill him!” Phichit pointed accusatory chopsticks at him before snatching the wine from Yuuri.“What?! Everyone knows I’m not a hitman, that’s ridiculous.”“No, not everyone knows that, Yuuri. No one even knows your name because you insist on being so secretive. You won’t even make up an alias.” He grinned and leaned in with excitement. “You know what some of the people in the underworld are calling you? Agni’s Cat. You know, like cat burglar?”Yuuri rolled his eyes at that and tried not to laugh.“You can’t blame everything on Scavenger—you probably acted like a hitman. I bet you scared him.”“Me? Oh, you know I think you might be right. My fangs and six-inch claws probably freaked him out… oh wait that was him!”“Tell me something,” Phichit wiped his mouth and pointed his chopsticks at Yuuri again, “Did you say to Scavenger, ‘Hey man, no hard feelings between thieves but I really don’t want you messing up my M-O, so we’re going to have to fight,’ or did you just give him your usual silent treatment, sneak out of the shadows and lunge for his neck?”Yuuri opened and closed his mouth like a fish before deciding, instead, to take the bottle back from Phichit.“See?! That’s hitman behavior, Yuuri! Act like a hitman, get treated like a hitman.”“…fair enough.” He handed the half empty bottle to Phichit who took a small sip. After a few moments of watching a contestant flub their flambé, Phichit, turned to Yuuri, cheeks stuffed with chicken again.“You want me to cut him off?” Yuuri laughed and shook his head.“No, you don’t have to do that.”“I’ll cut him off.”“No, Phichit, I promise I’m fine,” he grinned at him and stuffed his own cheeks with shrimp. “I was just a little rattled because he actually tried to kill me. He said he wanted to taste my blood.”“Ah, that’s just Scavenger. Ignore that.”Yuuri snorted. “There was a point where he had me pinned down and I swear he wanted to bite my face off. His fangs are huge!”Phichit nodded sagely and rubbed his chin. “I see what you mean. I guess that would upset you since the only person you want pinning you down with their teeth near your neck is Winter Torch.” A timid blush crept up Yuuri’s neck as he threw a crumpled napkin at Phichit’s face. His friend giggled and threw it back. “But am I right?”“Shut up.”“But. Am. I. Right?” He punctuated each word by dramatically leaning closer and closer to Yuuri’s face and Yuuri couldn’t help but laugh sheepishly.“Literally everyone has a crush on him, Phichit.”“Well, I never said you have a crush on him. And you know I don’t have a crush on the world’s best hero,” he laid an exaggerated hand on his chest.“It’s not like that…”“Then educate me—tell me what it’s like!”“I think he’s attractive—”“Ha!”“And he has a good heart. I like that about him.”“I bet Baker has a good heart. I don’t see you blushing about him.” Yuuri rolled his eyes and laughed—the thought of anyone under the age of forty swooning for the seasoned hero was amusing. Baker was good-natured and one of the top heroes before Winter Torch’s generation, but—Yuuri’s familial past with him aside— his over the top hair and eccentric greetings made it funny to think about Baker having fans crushing on him. “What’s special about Torch to you?”“He’s just… I don’t know…” Phichit scooted closer to Yuuri so he could rest his head on his shoulder and teasingly bat his eyelashes at him. Why did Yuuri like Winter Torch so much? He guessed it was for the same reason everyone else did. Flame powers by day, water powers by night, he was unique and well balanced. Torch was always a sight to see on the news—he never ceased to surprise Yuuri. There wasn’t a villain or criminal that wasn’t wary of Torch even though he was exceedingly kind. It amazed Yuuri that Torch was never perturbed, never disheveled or thrown after a difficult fight. His hair was always immaculate, his smile warm, his words gentle and encouraging. Yuuri wondered how he did it. He wondered how Winter Torch could be so… perfect. Yuuri hoped that he could learn something from him. “I guess I like him because… he keeps me guessing.”“Hmm… that’s true.” That answer seemed to satisfy Phichit for now. He got up and stacked their empty takeout containers to take to the trash. Asking Yuuri if he was done with the wine before closing it and putting it in the fridge, he leaned over the back of the couch next to his friend.“Who knows? Maybe if you steal enough rubies, rack up a high enough danger rating, you’ll get his attention and then he’ll pin you down and tell you he wants to taste you.”“Jesus Chr- get out of here!” Yuuri threw a pillow at Phichit’s cackling, retreating form.
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“I’m leaving your cut from the Gar Blanco deal on your dresser!” Yuuri called into the bathroom so Phichit could hear him from the shower.“Thanks, babe!”Yuuri closed the door for him and went back to his own room. It was small, but Yuuri liked it that way. The size forced him to leave it. It wasn’t much, with a small dresser on the wall opposite his bed, a bathroom to the left of his bed and a cramped, walk-in closet by the door. He had one picture of Winter Torch on his wall that Phichit got for him as a gag gift one year. Torch was wearing his hero suit in the poster. The suit fit his persona well—it was understated with its matte black base but the gradient gold shimmer of the top half tapering into a triangle at his waist was bold and elegant. Winter Torch’s face was opaline, with white flames crowning his head and flickering out of the eye that wasn’t winking. Confident even on paper, Torch stood as if ready to spar, legs apart, fists raised and lit with matching white flames.Yuuri sighed and tore his eyes away from the poster to the briefcase filled with cash on his bed. He picked up a stack and fanned himself with it—both he and Phichit had forgotten to get the AC fixed—and jumped a bit when his phone rang. He put the stack back in the briefcase and fished the phone from under his pillow. It was an alarm reminding him to call home. He dialed the number and it picked up on the first ring.“So punctual, Yuuri,” his sister, Mari, teased softly. The sound of his mother tongue coming from a loved family member was soothing.“I’m becoming predictable in my old age, aren’t I,” Yuuri said. “How are you?” Mari snorted at his joke.“Oh, same as ever,” he didn’t like that tone, “Just teaching all the hot nurses the names of the Taking Back December members.”“Do they even like boy bands?”“Everyone loves Taking Back December, Yuuri.”“And I bet everyone loves Taka…”“Takao. And yes, he’s Japan’s sweetheart. Oh my gosh, if I could see his perfect face just once in concert, I would be complete.”“You will one day,” Yuuri tried to keep the tone light and not think about how his older sister must have looked in her hospital bed. Face wan, cheeks hollowed out, her eyes dimmer than their natural burning brown, her body collapsing under the weight of the effects that dark magic had. Of course, doctors had informed them that there was no such thing as dark magic, only dark intentions. Yuuri didn’t care about the technicalities. Ikki had made sure to send a clear message to his family when he had Mari attacked years ago. He roundhouse kicked those thoughts out of his head.He only wanted to envision her smirking and whistling a tune from Taking Back December, her eyes boring into him because she knew him probably better than Yuuri knew himself. He would not picture her ill because that’s not who Mari was. Mari was strong. She was perceptive. She was loving. And it showed. He would do everything in his power to see that Mari again. “I promise. I’m going to see to it personally.”“Ah, what did I do to deserve a little brother like you?” she chuckled. Yuuri fought down the wavering tone creeping up in his voice.“More than you’ll ever know.”“Don’t get sappy on me. I’ll have to embarrass you if you do.” He laughed, and she hummed, satisfied. “I think I’ll embarrass you anyways. Since we’ve established that Phichit isn’t your secret boyfriend, you’ve gotta at least give me a hint about who he is. Does he have Instagram?”“God, Mari.”“Does he look like Winter Torch? I bet he does. You definitely have a type.”“For the last time, I don’t have a secret boyfriend.”“And why the hell not? You’re young. Are you too scared to put yourself out there?”“We’re not having this discussion. Consider myself embarrassed.”“Look, I wouldn’t pressure you if I thought you didn’t absolutely crave affection and love. But you do, and you can certainly get it,” she coughed and Yuuri could hear her ask her nurse for another blanket, “you just have to take control of your own love life. Life in general really. Stop fretting over me and our parents and figure out what’s best for you.”“Never.”“Ok. I should’ve seen that coming. Believe me though, I’m getting out of this hospital bed whether you pay for my medical bills or not. Mom and dad will live and die like all moms and dads do. When all of that happens, where will that leave you?”Yuuri fell backwards on his bed and scrunched his eyes tight. Now wasn’t the time to talk about his needs even though it was true that he rarely took the time to think about himself. Saving his family, though harrowing, came naturally to him. His purpose provided him clarity and direction. As his heart ached for his family’s strife, it was clear that the answer was to do everything in his power to save them in order to ease that ache, but when it came to his own personal desires, he was at a loss. Saving his family required self-sacrifice but no degree of honesty, unlike the mountainous task of saving himself, of being attentive to his own needs. He did not want to think about what would make him happy, because he did not know what that thing was. He rolled over on his stomach, and tried to think of something to say, but failed. Mari spared him and changed the subject.“Will you at least tell me how Phichit’s doing?”“Pretty good. I think he’s just getting out of the shower now. You want to talk to him?”“Nah, I know it’s getting late over there. Kids need their sleep.” Yuuri snorted. “I’m actually going to let you go too, little bro. Just promise me that you’re taking care of yourself.”“Of course. Tell mom I’ll be wiring the money for this month’s medical bill in the morning.”“You’re too kind.”“Good night.”When the line died, he took a deep breath and tossed his phone onto his pillow. If he could, he would hop on a plane immediately and fly back to Hasetsu, but he came to Spring Gate for a reason. He tried to calm down by reminding himself that the best he could do was continue sending money for her treatment.He leaned across the bed to count the money. Phichit had insisted on numerous occasions that he would take a ten percent cut instead of the usual thirty-five he charged others but Yuuri always refused. He always felt uncomfortable having such large amounts of money for an extended period of time so he carefully allotted money to his necessities. Shared expenses with Phichit. Tuition. His parent’s debt. Mari’s treatment. The rest went to charity. He never kept more than a couple of extra hundred dollars for emergencies and miscellaneous costs. He felt weird about it at first—he was an international jewel thief—until Phichit confided in him that he was doing the same. When Yuuri asked him why he charged such a high rate to other thieves if he was just going to donate most of it, Phichit told Yuuri that it was just because he could. * Victor first took note of Red Specter when the Daily Eagle named them on their front page: an elusive thief that had robbed several jewel collectors, a museum, an oil tycoon, and a duchess. Red Specter had taken over 10 million dollars’ worth of gems and no one had noticed that they had been robbed until Francine L Stint, Duchess of Delmont, fancied to look at her jewelry collection, one Saturday afternoon. Except her collection was bare.There were no prints. No footage. Not a trace of the thief and everything was as it should have been in her home, except all her rubies had vanished. It was as if a ghost had come in and swept everything away. Some guessed that perhaps it was the infamous thief, Scavenger who had done it, as some eye witness accounts claimed to have spotted him several weeks ago skulking about the pubs in a town a few hours away from the duchess’ estate. This conjecture was soon refuted as the public remembered that, though his presence so close to the scene of the crime was incriminating, Scavenger thrived off of leaving evidence. It couldn’t have been him. This rattled those in the jewel collecting community; most waved off the incident by saying the duchess ought to have had better security, and to bolster their own confidence, they checked their own stores only to find that they had been robbed blind as well.No one knew how long their gems—all rubies—had been missing. There were no clues, and this intrigued Victor to no end. The Daily Eagle, the same paper that had named him Winter Torch when he debuted as a hero, dubbed the thief Red Specter because it seemed they had a soft spot for rubies.“How is it that there’s absolutely no video evidence of this person,” Victor asked, bemused grin growing on his face as he closed the paper and tossed it on the cushion next to him. Yakov grunted behind Victor and shook his head as he poured coffee into a mug. “He’s gotta be working with someone, right?” Yakov grunted again and rounded the island separating the breakroom from the kitchenette to sit next to Victor on the couch.“Could be. Could be a power. Who knows.”“It’s like they’re invisible… or something.”“And how would you explain the lack of prints?”“Gloves?”“There were no stray threads either.”“What’s the stuff hero suits are made of these days? Poly-metal fiber? They could have access to a suit.”“Pandora’s Iron. It’s possible. He might’ve gotten it black market.”“Are they a he,” he asked. Yakov shrugged and took a swig of his black coffee. He set the mug down on the end-table. Victor eyed it and grimaced. “Why are you drinking it cold? Here,” he snapped his fingers, from which a tiny white spark danced and fell upon the surface of the coffee. It flickered and dived into the depths of the drink and disappeared, leaving ribbons of steam to billow from the mug. Yakov rolled his eyes and grunted his thanks.“This… Red Specter isn’t of your immediate concern right now, Victor.”“They stole ten million dollars’ worth of rubies.”“And no one was hurt. They stole from a bunch of helplessly rich socialite children who make more money ignoring this Red Specter problem than they do paying attention to it. Sure, their egos may be bruised, but they are otherwise fine. You have other concerns right now. Have you done what I asked?” Victor sighed and avoided his coach’s steely gaze, rubbed his hands together in his lap. “Well?”“Da, da.”“And?”“It isn’t Yuri,” he lied. Yakov hummed at that, revealing no emotion.He picked up his mug again and sipped, electing to stare at the blank TV instead of returning Victor’s nervous glances. An international banker and car enthusiast had reported that her extensive Cadillac collection was missing, an ugly smattering of graffiti in its place. After poking around some, Victor found out that it had indeed been Yuri Plisetsky’s work, something Yakov had suspected but wanted to confirm. Yakov had been keeping tabs on Yuri, hoping that even though the teen had run away from home, he would one day make his way back to Yakov’s doorstep. Victor saw no need to trouble Yakov with the truth—Yuri was a renegade thief and that much hadn’t changed. More proof of that would just age Yakov needlessly and sour the relationship between the teen and his guardian more if Yuri did decide to eventually come home.Yakov downed the last of his coffee and got up, moaning as his back cracked. Victor leaped out of his seat and tried on his biggest smile. “Yuri’s a kid, Yakov. Let him make his mistakes and then he’ll be home before you lose the rest of your hair.” Yakov laughed at Victor’s joke, one dead hiccup of sarcasm as he made his way to the sink to wash his mug.“How big of a mistake do you think it’ll take to make him come running back to me, eh?”“Parenthood is finding out, right?”“Parenthood is slowly dying until you do, Victor.”“I’ll talk to him. I’m sure he’s doing fine.”“You don’t know where he is.”“I’ll find him. For you, old man,” he grinned when Yakov chuckled. The laugh was barely there but it was real this time.“You’ll grow grey in the process. Oh, but it might be too late for that,” he smirked and threw the dish towel on the counter before making his way to the elevator. “I’ll be in my office. Keep your nose clean and ear to the ground. Ah, and forget about Red Specter. They’re a non-factor right now. If you come across them, do what you can, but otherwise, don’t bother.”“Yes, Boss.” * After yet another strenuous day of negotiating a deal with Lam Pok Chi, Phichit returned, wary, to his room. Frustrated that he had yet to meet a satisfying compromise, he hummed a dull tune and flopped onto his unmade bed. Lam was insufferable—he wanted the world served to him on a platter but he wanted it at a discounted rate. He had no regard for the labor that went into stealing something as valuable as the thing he wanted. There was no way that something like this could be stolen without a little shed blood and, for Yuuri’s sake, he couldn’t accept anything less than what was fair for a job this big. He groaned and stared at the ceiling.He thought about how much Yuuri was suffering even though his friend may not notice it (he was always a sucker for pain). Even though he had laughed it off when Yuuri mentioned it two weeks ago, that run-in with Scavenger was serious. Yuuri had similar run-ins with other thieves after that. Of course, Yuuri was capable of handling himself but so were the guys fighting him. Spring Gate was too hot. He had chosen the city for that exact reason—the heat’s where the bread is—but he didn’t want Yuuri to get hurt because of him. He was wondering if any of this was a good idea… He turned over onto his stomach and kicked his headboard. His room was like Yuuri’s in architecture only, as Phichit was not nearly as neat. He covered his walls in sticky notes with everything from server passwords to microwave recipes scrawled on them. Documents recording his transactions with other thieves littered the floor underneath his desk which was the only part of his room that was subject to any inkling of order. The set-up was modest providing him with the bare minimum needed to gain access to coveted information, but harmonious.A quiet ping startled Phichit into an upright position. He looked to his laptop to see that a project he had been working on for quite some time had proved successful. Smirking, he jumped up and rushed to his laptop. After typing in a few codes, he hit “enter” with a triumphant flick of his wrist, and sat down in his chair, swiveling in tandem with the dial tone that echoed softly from his speakers. The line died and Phichit sucked his teeth, leaning in to type the same codes again. He repeated the process twice more. Finally, he got a connection.“Yeah.”Phichit bit back a laugh, but couldn’t help but leer not just at his roaring success, but at the response from the man on the other end. He rolled closer to the desk, folded his arms in front of him and leaned in.“I would never in a million years think that the world’s most esteemed hero would answer his comm link that way,” he said, unable to keep the delight out of his voice. There was a strained silence before Winter Torch spoke again.“I guess you just got the pleasure of getting to know me a little better.” Phichit did laugh this time, though the hero’s voice was pure ice. “May I ask who is calling?”“Let’s say…for now… a concerned citizen.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
If Yuuri was being honest, he had let himself go. Yes, compared to most people, he was more than in shape. But for this line of work, he thought, as he sprinted headlong down Spring Gate National’s foyer with another thief hot on his heels, it wasn’t enough. He knew he wasn’t going to shake whoever this person was so he skidded to a halt and rounded on them, effectively throwing them off balance. They tripped, and Yuuri took the opportunity to kick them dead in the gut. This, it turns out, was a mistake. The thief’s body turned to jelly and Yuuri’s foot sunk into the space where their intestines would be. “Argh!” He tried to wrench his foot back. Close enough to see their face now, Yuuri scowled at the man’s smirk. “Tsk, tsk. Everyone knows not to step in Quick Sand.” “This isn’t even quicksand!” Yuuri snapped. “I-it’s close enough!” Quick Sand drove his elbow down hard into Yuuri’s shin. He gasped, but unwilling to let up, he pulled a smoke screen from his utility belt and set it off. Quick Sand shouted his confusion, and his body released Yuuri’s foot as it became solid. Yuuri wasted no time; he clocked the thief square in the jaw, letting him drop like a leaf. His shin was on fire, but pride wouldn’t let him acknowledge it. Worst of all, his chest was burning as he wheezed for breath. I need to do stairs or something. He clicked his comm link on. “Phichit, I need you to disable the street cameras from 5th to Glen Street. I met some guy named Quick Sand and I’m gonna drop him off somewhere,” he panted. “Again? This is the third time this week!” He could hear a strong whooshing sound which meant his friend was running somewhere. “Yeah, Spring Gate is an absolute hell hole. Hasetsu wasn’t nearly this hot.” “At least you’re making more money here.” “True.” He secured his utility belt, which housed the fat ruby ring he had just stolen from the bank, and hefted Quick Sand into his arms. He was still moaning feebly, but Yuuri could tell he was out for the count. “You’re good to go, by the way. If you have the energy, now is as good as time as any to tackle that gem-dragon in the sewers.” “いやだ!” “Don’t be a baby! Gem-dragon eyes are crazy valuable! And there are only five gem-dragons on Earth, Yuuri!” Yuuri rolled his eyes as he walked down the corner of 5th and 23rd. It was so late that it was almost morning, so even though he was in the heart of the city, there was hardly anyone around to see him plop Quick Sand onto a bench outside of a Chik-fil-A. Those who did see them clearly thought he was taking care of a drunk, eccentrically dressed friend. Thank God the con was in town… He jogged back up the street, not wanting to engage Phichit in conversations about him wrestling space gators in the sewers. He was not Steve Irwin (nobody could replace Steve). But he did need the money… He wanted to cry as he mounted his motorcycle, but instead he growled like a dying hippo. “Atta boy, Yuuri,” Phichit said. * He couldn’t even enjoy a nice cup of coffee without some nut trying to blow up the city. Victor sucked his teeth and slammed his mug down as people began to scream outside. The patrons in the café crouched under their tables in fear. Some, who had been hovering over Victor to ask questions or try touching the flames coming out of his head jumped back as he rose from his seat. “If you’ll excuse me,” he said. He pulled a ten out of a concealed pocket and left it on the table before running out the door. It was chaos. People were running and screaming, in every direction. Some darted into shops like they were supposed to, but others dived behind mailboxes or crawled under cars. Still others ran in mindless circles. Even the birds seemed to be going haywire, zig zagging in the air and dive-bombing the pavement. The city had emergency evacuation measures that Victor was positive most citizens were aware of. He looked around, trying to make sense of the scene when a sword whizzed past his ear, narrowly missing him. He blinked and looked around. What he had mistaken for birds were actually swords: streaks of silver flying through the air and attacking citizens. “Well, shit,” he breathed. He almost panicked, but made a decision. He cupped his hands together as if there was a small ball between them and, focusing his energy to the center of his palms, he opened them in a wide arc above his head. Dozens of blazing white birds appeared above him. Some people, even in their terror, hesitated to watch them flutter. Some of them began to murmur his hero name in awe. Victor turned a sharp eye to them. “Keep running! Go!” he bellowed as, in one sweeping motion, he urged the birds to attack. The flaming birds swarmed on the dive-bombing swords, swallowing some, and melting others into a pile of molten magic. Civilians shrieked as they ran in the opposite direction. Victor reached for the sword that almost killed him; it was stuck in the brick wall behind him. He felt the hilt as it frantically twitched in one direction: the town hall, just a block away. That must’ve been the source of the magic. His body reacted immediately, phasing into a stream of fire to fly to town hall and rematerialize again in front of none other than five star villain, Tim Fair. Tim Fair was like a tree: tall, solid, and rugged. For some reason, most villains that Victor confronted smiled maniacally, sometimes even sweetly. They all had a manic jubilation that Victor often equated to children hopped up on sugar and running wild. Tim Fair was different. He was like a tired, stern father who was often quick to anger. He even looked the part. He wasn’t flashy; he usually wore a plaid shirt and rough jeans or something similar. Tim’s black eyes met Victor’s blazing ones with a strange mingled look of relief and exasperation “Morning, Winter. Dragging your feet today, aren’t you?” “I was enjoying a cup of coffee when I noticed you were back in town,” Victor frowned at him. Protocol with five star villains was different than the protocol for other villains. For one thing, you don’t negotiate with them. Ever. It was useless to tell him to stop, to give him a chance to turn himself in. Of course, Victor rarely followed that guideline anyway—the people he fought never went down without a fight. In any case, he needed to keep Tim talking until he knew how to handle him. “I just want to get this over with, Winter. The sooner you’re out of the way, the better.” “So you think you can take on Boss and Iron Angel by yourself?” “That doesn’t matter. They can come if they want, but they’ll be too late.” “What do you want, Tim?” Victor eyed the halo of swords floating eerily around Tim’s head. That was definitely new. “Everyone keeps asking the same questions. What I want hasn’t changed. I want to make this city pay for taking my son away from me.” “You know I’m sorry about what happened to your son, Tim, I really am,” Victor said, edging closer, “but you know he wasn’t the only person in this city who was bullied.” “He’s the only one that mattered to me.” Without warning, the hovering swords shot through the air at Victor and he dived to avoid them. Still more came. They materialized in the air and flew at him as he ducked and swerved to avoid them. “I want to make the people in this city suffer,” he said, sounding merely irritated though his face was something from hell. “I want to torture them the way they tortured him.” His words were punctuated by the impact of magic swords colliding with concrete as Victor swerved and danced around them, sometimes conjuring birds to swallow them up. “You might want to call for back up, Winter.” Victor took a deep breath. The air around them grew deathly cold for a split second making Tim shudder, and then there was nothing but bone-melting heat. A ring of white fire snaked around them as more flames poured out of Victor’s eyes and flickered dangerously on his head. His fists glowed with power. The swords turned into glittering soup and, in midair, dripped onto the ground. “Why? Am I not enough for you Tim?” The villain roared his anger. What looked like a hundred more swords appeared in the air, all pointed at Victor. “You are nothing!” he shouted. “This is nothing compared to the pain I’ve suffered! Your fire means nothing! Swords are forged in flames!” “And how hot are those flames?” Victor walked confidently closer. He knew Tim wouldn’t want to get too close. “I would argue that I’m far hotter.” The swords that hadn’t yet melted joined the new ones that had materialized, circling high in the air away from the heat. “I will see your blood today,” Tim whispered. Victor didn’t reply, but waited. The swords above him whirred sickeningly until they had merged into one, enormous weapon, twice Victor’s height and blindingly glittery. The point was directly over his head, but Victor didn’t move. It dropped. Victor breathed in and the ring of fire vanished. In one fluid motion, he raised his arms, as if reaching for something and a pillar of white fire surged from his fingertips. Tim shrieked and fell to the ground, shielding his eyes. Victor’s shoulders ached, but he kept his arms steady, willing the fire to stay hot. The air shimmered around him and the sword got progressively smaller until it was no more than a dagger. Dropping his exhausted arms, he ducked and rolled out of its way. Small and feeble, it followed, but Victor vaporized it with a look, white lasers shooting from his eyes. Panting, he looked over at Tim Fair. He was drenched with sweat and shuddering to catch his breath. Victor lifted his hand and a net of fire sprouted from the ground around Tim, trapping him. Victor stood, relieved it was over. The sound of sirens grew in the distance; the police were on their way. He stretched his arms and walked over to Tim. The burly man scowled up at him, and boy, if looks could kill. Victor sighed. “Today’s the anniversary, isn’t it,” he asked softly. Tim didn’t reply but looked down. “This is probably just an insult to you, but… I’ll be sure to put some flowers on his grave.” “Don’t you dare go near him,” he spat. “I’ll be out again to do it myself.” “I know, Tim.” There must’ve been something wrong with him, Victor thought. He didn’t know anyone whose heart would ache for someone like Tim Fair, a murderer, but here he was, feeling sympathy for a man who he wouldn’t hesitate to barbecue if he needed to. * “We haven’t pulled an all-nighter since our Grand Prix days,” Phichit reminisced through Yuuri’s comm link. After robbing Spring Gate National, Yuuri went back to their apartment to regroup. At least that’s what he told Phichit he was doing. He was actually brooding, spread eagle on the sitting room floor, trying to wrap his mind around spelunking in the sewers. “It brings back memories, doesn’t it?” “I don’t recall us ever sloshing through human excrement in our school days. Was that an extracurricular I didn’t know about?” Phichit chortled. “Yuuri!” He chimed. “It’s not that bad. It’s mostly water!” Yuuri grimaced and looked around at the slimy, stone walls, the river of sludge beside him. “Come down here and say that to my face, you coward.” “Is it that bad?” “It’s a fucking sewer, what do you think?!” “But all the good stuff is down below! Just ask Sebastian the crab!” “What?” “You know! Darling, it’s better down where it’s wetter. From The Little Mermaid!” “Ariel didn’t live in a sewer—she lived in the ocean!” “Sebastian didn’t specify when he said wetter, did he?” “He definitely did. You didn’t even watch the movie.” “Don’t need to. I’ve downloaded all the songs, so I get the gist.” A rat scuttled over Yuuri’s foot and he whimpered. “Phichit, I’m gonna cry.” “Do you want me to come down there with you?” “Yes, please,” he gasped. “Ok. I’m in Moscow right now. I’ll be there in a couple of minutes.” “What? Moscow? What are you doing there?” “Trying to get this bread, of course. But it’s ok. I didn’t have an appointment or anything.” “No, no, stay there. I’ll be fine.” “Are you sure? You know I’m a speedster right?” “Yeah, it’s not that. I don’t want you to stop working. I can handle this.” “Ok, if you’re sure…because I’m literally on the Atlantic right now…” “I… the Atlantic? Why didn’t you cut through the Pacific?” “I hate Alaska.” “Since when?” “It creeps me out. But anyways, are you sure?” “Uh, yeah,” he said, not sure why Phichit didn’t just skip over Alaska. Maybe he forgot that was a shorter route and didn’t want to admit it. Whatever. “I’m fine. Sorry I made you start running.” He raised the flashlight he was carrying to see further ahead of him. “I wasn’t really running as much as I was briskly walking. To be honest, I’m not too excited about sashaying in the sewers either. Besides, I’m in Berlin now, so at least I got to go to my favorite bakery!” Yuuri laughed, but his amusement didn’t last long. The smell in the sewer was absolutely foul, like a rotten egg French kissing a sweaty sock filled with shit. Rats and roaches scuttled along the walls, and something Yuuri couldn’t identify, swam languidly in the grey water. Every now and then, he thought he heard voices, but he was sure it was his nerves. He was hunting an animal, not a person. “How do you know the gem-dragon is in this quadrant?” “Math and stuff. Sonic activity. Gossip. You know.” “I don’t see it.” “Well it isn’t going to be out whistling and airing its laundry is it?” Yuuri groaned. “Raise the service fee for this job.” “Absolutely.” A low rumble resonated through the sewer walls. Yuuri froze. He flashed the light around him, trying to find where it came from. He looked up and saw several shining circles. He was under a manhole so there were cars above him. But that sound couldn’t have been a car. It was somehow different. “I think I found it,” he whispered. “I’m signing off for now.” “No, Yuuri, let me stay in case you need help,” Phichit whispered back sounding frantic. “I’ve got this. I’ll switch it back on if I need something.” “But,” “Gotta go.” Before Phichit could say anything, Yuuri switched off the link and his flashlight. The rumbling sound came back, low and forbidding. Rats scurried away in the opposite direction, apparently fleeing. The thing in the water disappeared. Yuuri gulped and kept creeping forward. He shook his head clear as he thought he heard voices again. A forked path appeared before him; four tunnels were carved in the wall in front of a large pool of rank water. Yuuri took the one on the far left as he watched more rats swim out of it. The path along the river had disappeared so, slowly dying inside, he waded into the murky water. He moved slowly, not wanting to make too much sound. Something dry was scraping against the walls ahead and… there were more voices. This way… it said. Yuuri whipped around, his heart bounding in his chest. There was no one there. Hurry, it’ll hear us! Faint splashing sounds bounced somewhere in the distance. “What?! Who’s there?” Yuuri hissed. The splashing stopped and a terrible silence replaced it. Yuuri looked around again.
Did you hear that? Was it…
Of course not, he’s dead… I saw it happen.
Yuuri sped forward, not caring about the sounds he was making, the water sloshing around him. The splashing in the distance got louder too—whoever it was, was on the move. He reached another forked path, this time with two tunnels. He kept barreling left until a blood curdling roar shook him to the core. The gem-dragon. It had to be to the right. He backtracked and went that way. He heard screams and he began to sprint in earnest. Yuuri thought he would never stop running, that maybe he was going the wrong way until something mowed him over, knocking him flat on his back. He jolted up, acrid water spilling over him and looked to his left. The scaly rear end of something three times the size of a bear was closing in on something cowering in the shadows. The dragon had two rows of bony plates along its back and down its oddly stubby tail. He drew his grappling hook and shot it at the beast’s flank to get its attention. It didn’t budge. He retracted his hook and aimed higher, trying to hook it on one of the plates. It stuck and he hoisted himself onto its back. The thing roared and thrashed and somebody, several somebodies, shrieked. He scrambled to find purchase on its back as he looked down in shock to see three people huddled in the dark water. “Wh-what are you guys doing down here?!” “Hiding!” one of them shouted. The gem-dragon shook Yuuri off and turned its ugly head to face him. The bony plates extended down the bridge of its snout. Rock like protrusions circled its pinched looking eyes… its valuable eyes that turned into diamond-hard rubies when removed from the head. Except, this gem-dragon had no eyes. Yuuri gasped as it stepped into the light that was cascading from an overhead manhole. Gory gashes painted the spaces where the eyes should be—someone had beat him to it. His heart sank. The gem-dragon threw back its mutilated head and roared. It charged at Yuuri. His first instinct was to dodge, but then he remembered the people behind him. He stood his ground, trying to dig his feet into the slippery pavement. The dragon rammed its head at him and Yuuri cried out, the scales digging terribly into his palms, the alien creature’s brute strength nearly crushing him as he struggled to keep standing on such wet, uneven ground, but he held it steady. Every fiber of his being was screaming with the effort of pushing the beast’s head back. “Run,” he choked out. “B-but… we can’t just—” “Go!” He didn’t let go of the gem-dragon’s head until he couldn’t hear the footsteps behind him anymore. He collapsed again, putrid water closing over his face. Screeching, the gem-dragon stood on its hind legs and fell down on top of Yuuri; again he found himself pinned, with something bloodthirsty hovering over him, trying its best to devour his face. His arms shuddered under the dragon’s heft in his hands. Suddenly, the scales pierced through his armor and dug into his palms. He screamed, water threatening to penetrate the fabric in his mask. The monster was far heavier than Scavenger, and Yuuri was already so tired. He snapped his wrists away and folded forward into a somersault under the gem-dragon. He rolled out of its way as it clambered blindly in the tunnel. Yuuri looked down at his shuddering hands through the shredded material. They were ravaged. He looked back up at the dragon; it took one long, rattling sniff and turned its head to him. It could still smell him. Yuuri took three steps back before sprinting back at it, jumping to kick the crown of its head. Foot met scales, and though pain ripped through him like a flame, he put as much force behind it as he could muster. The thing shrieked and stumbled backwards. Yuuri didn’t let up. He balled up his fist, gasping out in pain as he did, and uppercut the thing in its rocky jaw. It shook its head and opened its mouth wide to scream at him, revealing several rows of lethally sharp teeth. Yuuri blanched, feeling weak on his feet but, instinctively, he drew his grappling hook again. The thing snapped at him—Yuuri threw up his arm to defend himself and it sunk its teeth into his forearm. Yuuri didn’t hear himself scream but he knew he must have. Get it together! It’ll heal! He tried to steel himself with those thoughts to keep himself standing. Shuddering, vision blurred, he raised the grappling hook and shot it at the dragon’s scarred eye. It let go of him and screamed again. Yuuri took his shot—he aimed the hook down the gem-dragons throat. It gargled and spluttered and Yuuri could feel that the prongs found something. He pulled it, and the odd, sloshing resistance made him queasy, but he yanked it hard, fishing a bloody mess from its jaws. It staggered back, its pained roars deafening. Someone would surely hear it down here. “Come on! This way!” Yuuri looked around to find a man’s grimy face inches from his own. “W-what? I thought I told you to run!” “We couldn’t leave you here! Let’s go!” “It’s not safe here! Go!” “Don’t be crazy! Look at that thing!” Yuuri turned back to the gem-dragon. It was screeching louder than ever. Standing on its hind legs and flexing its claws it seemed like it didn’t know what to do with itself, but it was clearly anything but tired. Yuuri looked lamely down at the bloody organ in his hand. “That didn’t kill it… it’s just… angry.” “Come on!” He looked at the man, who seemed a bit worse for wear, but otherwise unscathed. “The other two that were with you—are they ok?” “Yes, yes! Let’s go already!” Yuuri sprinted in the direction he was pointing towards, the gem dragon in close pursuit. “You pissed the damned thing off and now it won’t let up! How it’s following us when it can’t see—” “It can smell us!” Yuuri remembered. He fumbled in his utility belt and pulled out his last smoke bomb. It was a dud; Phichit and Yuuri had unwittingly bought this one from some idiot who didn’t know what they were doing. Word spread that the screens from his smoke bombs were weak and had an acrid smell, which made this the only time that it would be useful. He threw it at the center of the gem-dragon’s ugly face and it didn’t recoil until the smoke poured into its nostrils. It choked and shook its head as if trying to ward off gnats. “That should keep it. Let’s go!” “It’s just over here,” the man panted, clutching his side. He led Yuuri down a wider tunnel with what looked like algae sprouting from the walls and, up ahead was the glorious exit. * “How were things with Tim Fair?” “I won’t lie, it was a bit messy.” Victor told Yakov on his comm link as he politely shook his head at the timid EMT offering him a shock blanket. “He can conjure a lot at once now, and make them track people. There were quite a few injuries.” “Any deaths?” “Thankfully, no.” “For a five star villain, that’s a win. Wrap up there and make your way down to the river by East Avenue. Reports are coming in about a disturbance in the sewers there.” Victor pursed his lips. The flames on his head shrank ever so slightly. “A disturbance?” “Screaming. Some people think there’s some kind of creature down there.” “In the sewers.” “Yes.” “That’s where you want me to go?” There was silence before Yakov gave one of his long suffering sighs. “What’s the problem here?” “No problem. Just clarifying. You want me to go…” “Address the disturbance in the sewers.” “And the disturbance is… definitely in the sewers?” “I’ve been clear, Victor.” “I have to… uh… go in the sewers or…” “I will say this one last time and I promise you if I have to repeat myself I will—” “No, I got it… I’ll…” he dragged his hand down his face, questioning his career choice, “apparently I’m going to the sewers.” “Report back immediately,” Yakov growled before clicking off.
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Twenty-two years ago, Earth was visited by a colony of Venetians. The people of Veneto are smugly proud of this term, but nowadays it doesn’t just refer to their nationalist movement but to the people of Venea, a planet several galaxies away suffering from the throes of war. The colony that arrived on Earth were all refugees. Earth welcomed them with curious and capitalistic arms. Bracing themselves for more intergalactic contact, Earth dumped more money into their space programs and travelled to stretches of the galaxy that had never been explored before. But, they didn’t know what they were doing and unwittingly brought death back with them in the form of several alien eggs. One such egg was that of the gem-dragon. PETA had a field day when it was unanimously decided that the dragon would be considered a dangerous, invasive species that should be terminated on sight. Of course, no one cared about PETA’s views as people began to disappear or else turn up with their bottom halves chewed off. Because of the new population of dangerous, alien species, several safety pamphlets began circulating to give people information on how to handle them. All of them listed gem-dragons at the end as an “it’s-unlikely-that-you’ll-ever-encounter-one-of-these-but-just-in-case-you-do” kind of endnote. Victor remembered those notes as he felt the bone rattling roar beneath him. One: Don’t panic. He watched, bemused as four people—one of them in an all-black stealth suit—frantically tried to push an ancient looking grate back over the tunnel entrance of a sewer. “Where are the screws?! Are there no screws on this thing?!” Someone was shouting. The stealth-suit person? “I don’t know, it was like this when we got here! Just push!” One of them began to sob. Two: Get behind it. The grate was propped up against the entrance, but without being secured with screws, it was worthless. The man in the stealth suit put his back against it and dug his heels in the muddy earth, as if it to brace the grate against impact. “Get out of here,” he cried. “I can take it!” The other three looked stricken, torn between running and staying as they took fearful steps back. The roaring was getting closer. Three: Make a fire. Victor snapped back to reality and flew to them, a ribbon of fire in the sky, and rematerialized by the nearest of the three that the man in black was trying to save. They all jumped and screamed as he appeared. “That’s enough! Let me handle the rest,” he said holding up his hands with great, raging flames in his palms. The stealth suit man stumbled away from the grate and Victor got his hands on it just in time. As the rusty metal began to weld firmly together, he saw the approaching scaly face of the demon that had been causing the disturbance. It rammed its ugly head against the grate but it was too late. It was sealed shut. The gem-dragon growled at him, raising a clawed fist. “I bet its freezing in there. Why don’t you come here and warm up?” Victor teased, raising his flaming hand as close as he could to the gem-dragon’s face. It growled and shrank back. Victor didn’t stop, and sent dancing sparks after it until it had vanished into the darkness of the sewer. He turned to the four behind him. “Is everyone ok?” The three not wearing masks nodded. Two young men and a woman. One of the men pulled the other into a trembling hug as the woman fell trembling to her knees. They would be fine. He found the man in the black stealth suit frozen, as if caught in some petty, infantile offense, staring at him. Victor thought he was staring, but it was hard to tell through the black mask. He didn’t know why, but he blushed at the attention. “Um, are you ok? Do you need… medical attention?” the man didn’t answer. He must be shy, or else shocked that Winter Torch had come to save him… but then again, this person clearly wasn’t normal. The stealth suit was proof. Was he a hero too? Vigilante? He did almost sacrifice himself to save the other three by holding the grate. Did he have super strength? Or was he a psychic type with enhanced strength? Victor had always secretly been envious of those with psychic powers. Well, if this person was a fellow hero, there was no use being cagey. He turned on the charm and grinned, the flames on his head and coming out of his eyes turning pink. “How about a commemorative photo?” he joked. The man bolted. Cutting through the surrounding trees, he left Victor, feeling just a tad bit rejected. * That was Winter Torch. The Winter Torch. I just met Winter Torch. And I’m covered in sewer water. Somehow, that last part only mattered to Yuuri, not because it was, well, sewer water, but because he had just met Winter Torch. * “Boss, I’ve arrived on the scene. Send someone into The Valley Woods to find a man about five foot seven, maybe five foot eight. All black stealth suit, soaked. I’ve got three here who are injured but otherwise safe. The disturbance in the sewers was caused by a gem dragon.” “How did black stealth suit get away?” “He uh…ran,” Victor mumbled the last part. “I thought you could fly?” Yakov sounded dry and sarcastic. “You know I can’t actually fly! I… I was caught off guard, and I couldn’t leave the other three to chase him.” “I didn’t say you had to chase him, but there’s no reason why you should’ve let him go.” “It’s not like he was doing anything wrong!” Victor was stung by the implication that he had let a criminal slip past him. “He saved our lives. Twice,” the woman on the ground said with fervor and a wavering voice. “One second, Boss.” Victor crouched down to talk to her at eye level. “Can you tell me what happened,” he asked softly. She rubbed her nose and gave her companions a furtive look and they shrugged. “That thing found us. Sniffed us out. If that other man hadn’t come and held it back, we would’ve been killed. Just like…” tears fell down her cheeks and she bit her lip. “Just like our other friend,” one of the men said. Under the grime and muck, he had dark red hair. “I’m so sorry,” Victor said. “Do you know where that other man came from? Or why he was down in the sewers in the first place?” “No. We didn’t get much conversation in.” The other man rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “Of course not. Can you tell me why you three were down there?” They all exchanged looks again. “We were hiding,” the red haired man finally said. “Someone dangerous is looking for us and we had no place to go.” “Who were you hiding from?” “It’s safer not to say,” the other man spat turning his back on Victor. He frowned and stood up. “Is there anyone else in there?” “We need to get Kai’s body,” the woman whispered. “We can take care of that for you. Help and reinforcements are on the way,” Victor said in what he hoped was a reassuring voice. He reported back in to Yakov then ran them through the basic post disaster information about the police, the paramedics, and the services that he would be able to offer them if they needed it. His thoughts wandered into The Valley Woods after the man in the stealth suit. Now that he was thinking more sensibly, he wondered if the man was injured. What if he needed help? Why had he run? And why had he been in the sewer in the first place if it wasn’t to protect these three? A terrible rumbling echoed from the sewers and Victor shuddered at the idea of having to fight the thing at night. By day, it would be difficult but doable since gem-dragons feared fire. But at night, his water would be useless in taking it down. It was one of the few scenarios he would prefer fire over his ice and water. He wondered how that German hunter did it four years ago. He was the first person to ever incapacitate a gem-dragon. It seemed as if the things couldn’t be killed, so incapacitation seemed pretty impressive to the public when the German guy presented the beast’s eyes to the world. He refused to tell people how he had done it. Some thought he wanted to keep the glory for himself. Others thought he was trying to protect people from these vicious alien creatures. Victor was of the mind that he was simply in shock and reliving the events might set him off. He looked pretty shaky on TV. He walked back over to the grate to peer into the sewer’s depths. He didn’t care what anyone said. Nothing, no form of pay off could make him willingly go fight a gem-dragon. But people did it anyways. Thrill seekers, alien creature life enthusiasts and… His jaw dropped. “Jewel thieves!” He had let a criminal escape! He turned to the three behind him who looked nervously at his sudden outburst. “Did that gem dragon have eyes?” “Uh… no. It was already blinded when we saw it,” said the red head. “So the man in black hadn’t done it?” “I don’t think so.” Victor pouted. If that man wasn’t a jewel thief, why was he there? He tapped his opal mouth thoughtfully and began pacing. He clearly wasn’t one of these three. He wasn’t a thrill seeker—thrill seekers didn’t need masks. The same was true for alien creature nerds…. Maybe he was a jewel thief… but someone had beaten him to the punch? He stopped pacing at the thought of international jewel thieves traipsing in and out of the sewers. If someone had stolen the gem-dragon eyes before this thief, then what reason did he have for sticking around once he saw that the thing was blinded? The police and paramedics had arrived. Police had already begun the process of roping the area off, and a young hero dressed in pink and yellow had taken off into the woods. Victor watched as EMTs tended to the three, administering first aid. One EMT rubbed the woman’s shoulder as she cried. The two men held hands, answering questions together. If that mysterious man in the black suit hadn’t shown up, the fate of those three was certain…just like their friend’s. Victor answered questions and smiled for cameras in a daze. This conclusion lingered in his mind the rest of the day: maybe the thief was just a good person. * Phichit nearly murdered him. Nearly. But there was no time for that—agreeing to the exorbitant price was faster than breaking the scientist’s neck and trying to find someone else. He established a payment plan for the serum, and sped back to Spring Gate to Yuuri. He might murder him too. He knew Yuuri needed help, but Yuuri was stubborn. He always insisted on doing things by himself and, for the most part, Phichit humored him, not wanting to make him feel infantilized. But this was so different. This was life or death. Yuuri should’ve called. Phichit could’ve been there in less than a second, he thought as he slipped his shoes off at the door. Yuuri was in the sitting room, on the couch with his back to Phichit. There was also a bag of something green on the coffee table but he ignored this for now. He rounded the couch at break neck speed to face his friend. He was an absolute mess. His hands and left forearm were punctured in places. Yuuri’s foot was propped on the cushion beside him, so he guessed that got injured too. With shaking but surprisingly precise hands, Yuuri tended to his wounds. “You should’ve called,” Phichit fumed. “Yeah,” Yuuri breathed. “How could you get down there and think that you didn’t need me? I was going to ignore you and come anyways but I wanted to respect your wishes!” “I’m sorry.” “You don’t need to be sorry. You need to think!” Phichit sank onto the arm chair behind him, dragging his hands down his face, trying to steel himself. He needed to be stern. This was serious. Tears fell anyways. “Are you ok,” he asked without moving his hands from his face. “Yeah. I heal fast. Not as fast as you, but good enough.” “Ah,” he got up from his chair and sat down by Yuuri. He took the package he got from that penny-pinching scientist out of his coat pocket to show Yuuri. “Before you stitch up, put some of this on your wounds. It’s fast-acting healing serum. There are instructions in here somewhere…yep, here… I’ll read it.” “How… where did you get that from?” He looked shocked. “Some prick in the Alps. He experimented with speedster DNA and made a serum that exponentially speeds up the process of healing. I have reason to believe that he somehow got his grubby little hands on my DNA too so I will be going back to investigate. Maybe I can even renegotiate the price…” “Oh my god, Phichit… thank you so much.” “You don’t need to thank me for something like this.” “I bet it cost a fortune.” “Nah.” “Liar.” “I mean… a few charities won’t be getting their donations this month… or the next. Or… for the next few years, but it doesn’t really matter. I can pay for it.” “I’ll help you,” Yuuri said sternly. “No,” Phichit said, “Your money goes somewhere a little more important than to some idiot boob in the Alps.” They worked together to dress Yuuri’s wounds. Yuuri, Phichit noticed, had a disturbingly high pain tolerance. He barely winced when the serum touched his injuries, though he knew it must have felt like acid. He of course knew this from their school days when Yuuri was being trained in secret by a family friend to be a cat burglar. He often showed up to school looking beat up, but he played it off to teachers saying he bruised easily. Phichit knew that whatever he was doing wasn’t easy, but it was Yuuri’s choice. “Damn. It sure does pay to have super strength.” Yuuri snorted. “I don’t have super strength.” “You tossed Scavenger across a room. You don’t just toss Scavenger. He’s an absolute unit. And you fought a gem-dragon. Anyone who can do that has super strength.” “The King uses minivans as free weights! That is super strength! It takes a lot of effort for me to do that,” Yuuri countered. Phichit scoffed. Of course he would use JJ as an example. The hero had been in some of their classes back when they all attended the Grand Prix together. “Boy. You can still lift a minivan! No one cares if you have to take a deep breath and stretch before you lift a minivan, if you can still lift a minivan. And you’d be way stronger if you started training again.” “Meh. You were right though. I need to start thinking again. I completely forgot about using fire against the gem-dragon. I didn’t think about it until Winter Torch showed up.” “WINTER TORCH SHOWED UP?!” Yuuri started and dropped his roll of bandages. “Jesus, yes! He was there!” “Why didn’t you say anything?!” “Because you were yelling at me!” “You deserve to be yelled at, you were being a knob for not calling, but when I was done yelling, you should’ve mentioned that your husband came to rescue you!” If Yuuri hadn’t been almost eaten alive that morning, he would’ve had the strength to suffocate Phichit, but for now, he just sighed. “He’s not my husband. I doubt he would even notice me if I wasn’t crawling out of sewers and covered in blood… it’s not a good look.” “Give it time.” “Yeah, sure.” He flicked Yuuri on the nose. “We’re gonna beat some confidence in you one of these days. Anyways, care to explain what that sack of slime is on the coffee table?” Phichit pointed at the Ziploc bag of eerily green muck. “I… pulled it out of the gem-dragon’s throat. With my grappling hook.” Phichit winced but began poking the bag anyways. “That’s the most disgusting thing I’ve ever heard. What is it?” “Some kind of organ, I don’t know, to be honest.” “Can I have it?” “Sure…?” “Where’s your stealth suit? You didn’t bring it inside, did you?” “I burned it. After that fight it was useless, but I would’ve done it anyways because of the sewage.” “Good. I’ll get you a new one.” They had him properly treated and wrapped up by noon. Yuuri gingerly stretched out on the couch, his legs resting on top of Phichit’s. He let out a long and deep sigh. Phichit pursed his lips, not knowing how to say what needed to be said. “Yuuri.” “Mmm.” “This plan… isn’t sustainable.” Yuuri didn’t say anything for a moment, so Phichit thought he hadn’t heard him. He was going to drop it until Yuuri spoke. “What do you mean?” “I mean… that you can’t keep stealing for Fujiwara.” “And what do you suggest that I do instead?” Yuuri mumbled. "Just give up and let him do what he wants to my family?” “In what world would that ever be my suggestion?” “It just seems like that’s the only other alternative,” Yuuri whispered. Phichit chose his words carefully, not wanting this discussion to turn into an argument. “Let’s say you keep doing this. You keep giving Fujiwara the money he wants. Eventually, he’s going to realize that he could be asking for more. And then let’s say you do give him more. Then, he’ll realize that you’re pretty strong, pretty useful if you can handle stealing jewels from dangerous and risky places.” He drummed his fingers nervously and continued. “He’ll tell you to do more than just steal for him. He might ask you to do something that… you just can’t do. And then you’ll be stuck. You won’t be able to say no and you won’t be able to ask for help because you’ll already be in too deep with Fujiwara. You’ll be one of him.” “I am not one of Fujiwara’s,” Yuuri said with venom in his tone. “I know. But he’ll make you his and you won’t have a choice at that point because you’ll still be doing it for your family. But right now, things are different. You still have hope. In fact, we’re in a city that heroes fly in and out of all the time. They could be our allies in this.” “No… Phichit I can’t go to the heroes for help, are you kidding me? They’d have me arrested in a heartbeat!” “Maybe… but I think that if they knew your circumstances, that might change things.” “Change things how? I think that would just create more problems than it’s worth.” “It would change things because they would see that everything you do, you do to protect the people you love. And even then, you don’t let that get in the way of helping others. You could’ve run today, Yuuri, but you didn’t. You stayed to help those people. If you didn’t, they would be dead.” “Well yeah, I couldn’t let them die…” he said, blushing. “People may have a similar mindset as you, but they would never actually do what you did—stay behind to fight a gem-dragon by themselves so that some randos they don’t even know can live. Only heroes do that Yuuri. You do stuff like that all the time. That makes you a hero.” “That’s… a stretch.” “No, it’s true. If the heroes here knew what kind of person you are and why you’ve been stealing, I think they’ll want to help you and your family.” “I… I can’t risk that right now, Phichit. We don’t actually know how they’ll respond if I turn myself in. I can’t afford to get put away when my family needs my help. I’ll… think of something else. I might talk to Fujiwara about the payments. It’s been years after all.” Phichit raised his eyebrows at him, deeply disturbed by this suggestion. “There are some people you just don’t negotiate with, Yuuri. If you would just let me—” “Phichit, I can’t! I just… can’t do that, ok? And I don’t need to worry about you going behind my back to do something like contact any heroes about this either. Promise me you’re not doing something like that.” Clenching his teeth, Phichit carefully lifted Yuuri’s legs from his lap and set them on the couch as he stood. He faced Yuuri, arms crossed and trying to swallow swelling waves of emotion. “I promised you that I would help you protect yourself and your family. And that’s what I’m doing. I would do anything to protect you, Yuuri. I’m pissed that you would even suggest otherwise.” Yuuri sat up on an elbow. “I’m not, I just don’t—” “You just don’t trust me enough to keep that promise.” “That is not what I said. Why are you… so upset? I’m surprised you would even want to take such a risk.” “Imagine you were the one who left their family to come to America to help me pay off some gang boss with stolen money. Imagine you were the one who did everything in their power to help me and protect me. Imagine yourself suggesting a safer alternative, one that won’t get me killed or worse, and me responding with don’t go behind my back.” “Phichit… I’m sorry,” he said, aggressively rubbing his eyes before the tears in them could fall. “I didn’t mean it that way.” “I know. That’s why I need you to think.” Yuuri bit his lip and looked away as silence fell between them. After a while Phichit dropped his arms and made his way to the kitchen for something to do, anything that kept him from looking at Yuuri, anything to distract him from the guilt that ate at him for not telling the whole truth. “I’ll… make some tea. And then you should get some rest.”
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Makkachin almost knocked Victor over when he opened the door to his loft. He chuckled and scratched her ears before putting his take-out—coconut curry and mixed veggies—on the kitchen counter. “Potty time? Who needs the potty,” he cooed as he rubbed her furry cheeks. She barked happily when he put her leash on and took her outside. After a short walk, he poured her dinner, then took a shower and slouched into some pajamas. He scooped his own food out into a bowl and turned the TV on for background noise. He never actually watched, but Makkachin seemed to like it. She wagged her tail and only looked up to occasionally beg for bits of broccoli. Victor sighed contentedly and sank into his couch, holding his bowl close to his chest as he ate. “You actually watch this garbage?” “Ёптель-мопсель!” Victor jumped, spilling coconut curry down his front. He looked up and found Yuri sitting with his feet folded in a chair next to him. He was scowling at the TV, picking his nails absently. Victor sucked his teeth and tried to stop Makkachin from licking his shirt off. “What on Earth are you doing here?!” Yuri scoffed at Victor who went into his room to change his shirt. “You’re always trying to sniff me out, but now that I’m here you’ve got a problem?” he shouted so Victor could hear him. “It wouldn’t be a problem,” Victor huffed as he reappeared in clean clothes, “if you showed up like a normal person by calling or at least knocking. Not appearing like some poltergeist.” He took the bowl into the kitchen and Makkachin followed. “Well?” “I figured you’d have some questions, so I’m saving you the trouble by coming to you.” Victor ran a weary hand up through his silver bangs. He had forgotten about the banker’s missing Cadillacs. The jewel thief and the gem-dragon had completely driven the thought from his mind, especially after he went back to headquarters. He found the newspaper he had been reading a few days ago, and he was now almost certain that he had come face to face with Red Specter. But Yakov told him to forget about Red Specter, so he tried to do just that when he went back out on patrol before returning home. And here Yuri was, a ready-made, though unwelcome distraction. He did promise Yakov he’d talk to Yuri. Victor gave him a wry smile. “Why would I have questions?” Yuri scrunched his eyebrows. “Because you usually do whenever I…” “Whenever I find out you’ve stolen more cars? Well your answer hasn’t changed, has it? I don’t think I have any new questions, or anything new to say, Yuri. What you’re doing is still wrong. It’s still dangerous. Yakov still wants you to come home. Do you have anything new to say?” Yuri glowered at him, seemingly to prideful to grace Victor with an answer, but Victor knew better. There was something on that twisted teenage mind and he knew it. He decided to wait it out and plopped back onto his couch with his phone after he finished up his dinner. They sat in silence for hours before the show that mostly Makkachin had been watching—Seinfeld—had finally gone off. Victor got up and stretched, making it clear that he was about to go to bed. Yuri glanced nervously at Victor before blurting out. “Yakov doesn’t care about her. That’s why I left.” “I’m sorry, what was that?” He yawned for effect. Yuri practically growled. “Yakov. Doesn’t. Care. About Mila.” Each word sounded like a hammer hitting metal. “I wanted to take matters into my own hands. “And what makes you think Yakov doesn’t care about Mila?” “Because he hasn’t found her yet! He left St. Petersburg without her!” “So did you, but you clearly care. Why should Yakov be different?” “Because I’m actually trying while he’s busy being a fucking hero,” he fumed as he shot out of his chair. “He’s trying to save everyone except her!” “Just because Yakov doesn’t explain everything he’s doing to you doesn’t mean he’s not doing anything. He’s got allies in Russia looking for Mila, but reports say she’s been dodging every authority figure that comes after her. I understand why, but it still makes it hard to help her. Have you considered the possibility that maybe you jumped the gun when you ran away from home?” Yuri was clearly grinding his teeth together, as he was apt to do, and when he balled up his fist, Victor wanted to laugh. He was still a child, after all. “But you have, haven’t you? That’s why you’re here.” “I honestly don’t need your condescension, old man.” “Can you blame me,” he snapped. “You have been absolutely impossible to deal with and you’ve just been making your situation worse, digging a hole that’s too deep for anyone to reach in and help you out of.” He knew he sounded harsh, but Yuri could have stolen one of Iron Angel’s jets to fly to Russia and still be in less trouble than he was now. It was irritating to think about the whole “plan” that he had. Someone, Victor still didn’t know exactly who, had made a deal with Yuri. Steal expensive cars for a cut of the profits. Yuri agreed to it, thinking he could save enough money to buy a plane ticket back to St. Petersburg to find Mila. He and Mila were like brother and sister, and when they had no one else, they had each other. Yakov became Yuri’s legal guardian but since Mila was of age, there wasn’t much he could do but welcome her into his home. All was well until one day, not long before they were due to leave for America, Mila vanished. Yakov waited as long as he could—Iron Angel and Baker had already moved to Spring Gate—but she never returned. She started turning up in the news though. Factories and abandoned buildings gone up in flames; it was all her doing. News outlets named her Paprika and gave her a four star villain rating for “extreme second degree arson”. It was bullshit. They were just afraid because she was doing it with her powers. Victor knew Mila was afraid because she couldn’t actually control her powers... they were all accidents. Yakov never stopped looking for her, but just saying that to Yuri was never enough. Nothing was ever enough for that short temper. He just had to find his own way, had to do something risky and quick like stealing cars for money. But apparently, the money wasn’t good enough because he didn’t stop stealing. Victor sighed, arms akimbo as he shook his head slowly at Yuri. “What do you want to do?” Yuri looked like he wanted to cry, but Victor knew he would grow a pig’s tail before he ever saw Yuri Plisetsky shed a tear. “I want to come home,” he said gruffly, “and find her.” The last part sounded good and stubborn. As it should be. “That was never off the table, Yura.” “But now?” Victor shrugged as he began to move about the kitchen, washing dishes. He could practically feel the teen fidgeting behind him at the silence. He decided to have mercy on him. “Tell you what,” he said turning to face Yuri. “Stop stealing cars. Cut ties with the people in that world completely. Come home. Apologize to Yakov and Lilia. If you do that, I’ll talk to Yakov for you. We might be able to work something out.” “What about Mila?” he rounded the sofa, stomping into the kitchen. “Get it through that thick old skull, I’m not coming back if we’re not going to help Mila!” “As I’ve said before, we’ve been looking for Mila and—” “That’s not good enough!” He slammed a fist on the island counter and grew red as he yelled. “It’s never been good enough!” Victor met Yuri’s poisonous glare without flinching. He dropped the dish he was holding in the sink and turned to face him completely. He smiled, but there was no good humor there, only danger, and he waited. Yuri, slowly regained his composure, and when he wasn’t breathing so fast, he said “I think we can do more than what we’ve been doing.” “Oh?” Victor said. Yuri pursed his lips waiting. “Fine, Yuri. If you agree to my terms, I will personally come with you to St. Petersburg to find Mila.” “W-what?” Previously puffed up with anger, he seemed so deflated now, shock diffusing his cantankerous mood. “You would?” “I promise.” Yuri was clearly trying to fight back a smile so Victor had enough tact to turn back to his dishes to let him do it behind his back. He finished up and opened the fridge to pull out last night’s leftovers: beef stew. He nuked it, spooned it into a bowl, and slid it across the island counter to Yuri. “Just don’t ever say that we don’t care, because we definitely do.” Makkachin, recognizing family, padded over to Yuri to beg for scraps. * The speedster serum was no joke. Yuuri felt as if someone was trying to pull his skin back together with a metal rake. He focused on blocking it out; he ran through a list of the fish his parents used for making sushi at the onsen. Albacore, Amberjack, Bluefin… dull, mindless, brain work specifically designed to keep him grounded when he was in pain. He focused on fish while he rinsed bean sprouts in the sink. Unagi… what was the English word for it? Freshwater eel… He began shakily chopping veggies. It was 2am, but he wouldn’t go to bed without properly apologizing to Phichit, and the only way to do that was with food. He had never fought like that with Phichit before. He wasn’t even sure if it was a fight. He felt a bit blind-sided because he never knew Phichit felt that away about coming to America with him. Phichit was the one who had insisted on it after all. Everything Phichit did, though it seemed chaotic on the surface, was thoroughly calculated. He didn’t make a move unless he knew the risk was worth it. So why would he want Yuuri to risk getting himself and Phichit thrown into jail for the rest of time for crimes against the aristocracy? It didn’t make sense to him, but what did make sense is that Phichit was his friend, his best friend, and he trusted him. He just couldn’t do what Phichit was suggesting. He, Yuuri thought, would just need to settle for his apology in the form of pad thai. When the food was ready, he gingerly poured it onto a plate, his arm still quavering. It was a mess to look at, but at least it smelled good. He fell back against the counter to steady his breath before picking it up and walking to Phichit’s room. He knocked on the door and when Phichit sleepily said come in, he did. He stood awkwardly in the dark doorway, not knowing what to say. “Um…เราเกิดมาคู่กัน.” Phichit shifted under his covers. His head popped out from the blankets and, in the dark, he looked like one of his hamsters. “I already told you, you’re not my type Yuuri.” “Well then you need to stop saying that to me because that’s some of the only Thai I know.” Phichit sat up in bed and turned his bedside lamp on. He rubbed his eyes which grew twice their size when he saw Yuuri. “What the- Yuuri put that down!” He jumped out of bed to grab the plate from Yuuri’s trembling hands. “What are you doing up? You should be resting. You were almost eaten today!” “I’m fine,” Yuuri said, though not carrying the plate anymore was a huge relief. He sighed and limped over to Phichit’s bed to sit. Phichit followed him and put the plate on the covers between them. “Don’t lie to me. I know all of it hurts like hell.” “It’s fine, I’ve had worse.” “That doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt,” he looked down at the plate. “What’s this?” “An apology,” he shrugged shyly. “I’m sorry I made you think I don’t trust you. Or appreciate you. I really do, Phichit. I know you gave up a lot to—” “Stop.” He held up his hand. “That was my choice. I… accept your apology, but you shouldn’t feel bad that I came to America with you. I shouldn’t have mentioned it. I wanted to do that. I wanted to do all of this. I just don’t want you to think that I’m not thinking about… what’s in your best interest.” Yuuri thought ruefully about what Phichit apparently thought was in Yuuri’s best interest and bit his lip. Now was the time to make amends, not start up an argument he was trying to kill. “It’s nothing like what your parents used to make me when I came over, but I hope you like it,” he said instead as he pointed at the plate. Phichit eyed it, poked it with the fork. “You’re just trying to get me to eat vegetables again, aren’t you?” “You need fiber,” Yuuri said firmly. Despite everything, he was a nurse at heart. “I’m an adult!” He ferociously bit into a forkful of the noodles. “You better be glad this is actually good,” he said, shoveling more into his mouth. “Hold on, I’m going to get another fork for you.” He came back with one and handed it to Yuuri. They ate in comfortable silence for a while. “I have another job for you.” “Already?” “I have them queued up.” “You really are spoiling me,” Yuuri laughed, wincing as he tried to hold his fork steady. “It’s not major. It’s just something to do until I can get Lam Pok Chi to pay more than two dollars and a gum wrapper for a literally priceless artifact.” “You need to tell me what the Lam job is. I’m dying.” “Die until I tell you to stop then.” Phichit roared with laughter at Yuuri’s affronted gasp. They finished the noodles and Phichit slipped the plate under his bed. “I hear that serum works fast so you’ll be back in action in a matter of days. I want you to have something to do when that time comes.” “Sounds good.” Yuuri was grateful—he hated not having work because that was just more time for him to think. He never thought about anything that wasn’t stressful, so he needed to keep moving, keep working to some sort of goal. Phichit, Yuuri noticed, seemed to be thinking about something; he was drumming his fingers on his thigh and whistling short bursts of nervous sound. He knew his friend never actually needed prompting because Phichit always said what was on his mind when he was ready. Yuuri plopped down on the bed, waiting. “It’s a shame your power doesn’t work on animals,” he said. That’s not what he was expecting. “Um… I wouldn’t necessarily say it’s a shame… I think the idea of controlling people is enough for me.” Phichit hummed thoughtfully at that, still drumming his fingers. “What made you think about that?” “Well,” he seemed hesitant to answer. He fell down next to Yuuri, propping his head on his hand. “If it did work on animals, you could’ve just told the gem-dragon to fuck off and then none of this would’ve happened.” Yuuri laughed. “I guess you’re right, but I think that whoever or, in this case, whatever hears me needs to understand me in order to obey me. I think. I don’t know about the specifics.” “Yuuri, I know you said you wouldn’t use your power…” “I’m definitely not going back on that one. It’s not worth it,” Yuuri shifted on his side so he was looking at Phichit, letting him know he wasn’t upset about the conversation. It was a little uncomfortable, sure, but this was his best friend. He could talk about this with him. “You never told me what happened back at the Grand Prix…” Phichit said, hedging but his goal was clear. “What do you know?” “Well… I know that in your fourth year, something… happened. With that kid who can change the colors of things, Corentin Thomas. I’ve heard rumors, but those are the only facts that I know.” Yuuri took a deep breath. It wasn’t true to say that he hadn’t thought about the incident, because in reality, it haunted him. He may have never purposefully thought about it in years, but what he did stuck with him no matter how hard he tried to push it out of his mind. He hadn’t even told Phichit. Yet. “When I was fourteen, I lost control and hurt my classmate, Corentin Thomas,” he began. It was difficult and he was glad that Phichit didn’t press him to continue. He just watched and waited patiently. “We were supposed to be practicing basic execution—using our powers on the smallest and most basic scale. I was paired with Corentin. I was never… good at controlling my power. It always felt like it was right there beneath my skin, about to overflow with no way for me to hold it back. I kept telling Celestino that I wasn’t ready, but he insisted. I… Corentin turned my shirt blue and I… tried to make him raise his hand. It wasn’t working. I was trying so hard not to lose control but restraint wasn’t working and I let up just a little bit and…” he paused to wipe his eye. Phichit told him it was ok, to take his time. “Everyone in the class stopped what they were doing to pay attention. It was crazy, like a meteorite had just crashed into the room and I was it. And even though I was gone—I wasn’t remotely in control—almost like I was watching from afar—I could feel the attention. I could feel it turning into power. If another teacher hadn’t passed by the room at the time, I don’t know what would’ve happened. I don’t know how they did it, but they got everyone but Corentin to snap out of it. I didn’t even make him raise his hand. I don’t even think I asked that time. The power just… poured out of me and paralyzed everyone.” He was annoyed at himself for letting tears fall. But what was he expecting. He rubbed his eyes on his sleeves and waited for the you-should’ve-skipped-class and the I-wouldn’t-use-my-power-after-that-either. “Doesn’t your power need the attention of everyone in the immediate vicinity to work? How did you do that without anybody paying attention to you?” Yuuri shrugged. He hadn’t thought about it, but it hardly mattered. “Well, it doesn’t matter.” Could he read Yuuri’s thoughts? “You were just a kid, Yuuri.” No, he was just a good friend. “Everyone has had trouble controlling their powers. That’s what the Grand Prix Academy is for.” “Not like that, though.” “Exactly like that. That’s why we keep practicing, so that we know how to prevent it in the future.” “I can’t just practice at someone else’s expense, Phichit.” Practice makes perfect. Yuuri shuddered at the thought. How many times would he have to practice and harm someone until he got his power under control? “You obviously need to start small. Like with, I don’t know, meditation to figure out where the root of your power is and why it feels so… prominent.” “I don’t know about that. I don’t really need it anyway. It feels like a violation of free will.” “Oh please,” Phichit sat up and crossed his legs. “It’s not like you’re going to tell someone to jump off of a cliff. You used it on me when we first met.” “Yeah, and I still lost control!” “Apparently, you didn’t lose control as badly as you did with Corentin! I’m fine… for the most part.” Yuuri scrunched his brows with worry and Phichit laughed. “I’m joking! I’m really fine!” Yuuri rolled his eyes and struggled to sit up too. “Look. Everyone screws up. I screwed up.” “Your screw ups don’t hurt people, Phichit. Corentin lost his memory. I hear that even now, he barely knows who he is,” Yuuri said huskily, trying so hard not to cry-cry. Phichit took Yuuri’s face in his hands and moved it back and forth as if he were examining a melon. Yuuri laughed in spite of himself. “やめろ.” “No,” and he kept turning Yuuri’s head in his hands. “My screw ups can hurt people Yuuri. I did hurt people.” “What?” Yuuri sniffed. “I… can’t tell you the details, but in my second year, I went back in time,” Yuuri rolled his eyes when Phichit let go of him. “No, I’m serious. It was the fastest I’ve ever gone, and I went back and made a huge mistake.” “What?” Yuuri looked at him with a mingled sense of disbelief and amusement. “I’m telling the truth! I messed up big time, and if I hadn’t met another older speedster, things would be very… messy right now. I can’t tell you any details, but he cleaned up the timeline for me. Well, he did his best anyway.” “What do you mean you can’t tell me details? You’re supposed to tell me everything. Whatever happened to the best friend code?” “I invented the best friend code, you dork. And if it was anything else, I would tell you but I’ve already caused enough damage. I don’t want to risk messing up the timeline by letting anything slip.” “Oh my god… did you shoot JFK?” “You know I couldn’t tell you that even if I did, Yuuri! Why would you ask me that?” He threw his pillow at him. Yuuri laughed. “Is this true or are you just lying to make me feel better?” “Best friend code,” he said and crawled under the covers. Yuuri didn’t know what to make of that, but he figured it was pointless to pry. He scrambled under the covers too, not feeling like going back to his own bed. He sighed, feeling a bit emotionally raw, but content, especially since Phichit clearly wasn’t mad at him anymore. “Phichit?” “Hm?” “What does เราเกิดมาคู่กัน mean?” “It means I want to suck your nips,” Phichit yawned. Yuuri laughed so hard it hurt. “You say that to me... all the time! I thought you said I wasn’t your type!” “You aren’t, but I like to mess around.” “Ok, good night.” Yuuri chuckled and rolled over. “It means we were meant to be together.” “That’s pretty gay, bud.” “Thank god.” “Good night.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“I have a feeling that you know you’re not perfect.” Victor did not like the way Agni was answering his question, but he didn’t want to stop him. He was itching to hear more. It had been weeks since the last time they talked, and despite his best efforts and what he had promised Yakov, he couldn’t get Red Specter out of his mind. He just needed to know why Agni was so keen in helping him catch Red yet so secretive about important details. Victor couldn’t be choosey though. He wanted answers. “No one is perfect,” he said. “And most are far from it. That doesn’t mean they’re not good people. That’s what I want you to keep in mind. If I help you catch Red Specter, I need you to remember that.” “Why is it so important to you that I remember that?” He wasn’t good at interrogations, subtly extracting strands of truth to weave into a clear, big picture, but he had to try. “I’d argue that it should be important to everyone, regardless of their circumstances. We should always try to remember that nobody is perfect. And speaking of circumstances, circumstances are what makes achieving perfection or anything close to it so difficult. Remember that too.” “Should I write it down or...?” “Save it for a future conversation. If all goes well, we’ll talk about it again.” “Ok. So, are you going to tell me who Red Specter is, or am I going to have to beg?” “That would be a sight,” Agni chuckled and Victor looked over his shoulder, checking to see if someone was actually watching him. It was night and he was patrolling, walking down streets a block at a time. He was supposed to be keeping an eye out for an escaped rabbit-gator. Everything seemed normal—no rabbit-gators—but he couldn’t help imagining someone in a trench coat lurking behind a tree or fire hydrant, watching. “But no, I can’t just give you information like that. I can only tell you where he’ll be and when. What you do with that information is your responsibility.” “I just think it would be easier if I at least had a name or an address.” “Absolutely not. If you do this, you’re catching Red Specter the international jewel thief, not the person behind the mask. That person is a product of their circumstances, like everyone else. He doesn’t deserve to be gunned down in his pajamas… and you’re not allowed to use guns, by the way.” “Victor smiled at the image but didn’t want to convey any humor to Agni. “I’m assuming you two are close then?” “Yeah, he’s my hairdresser.” “Seriously?” “Only when I'm thinking about treating myself.” Victor shook his head. “Do you want the information, Winter?” Yakov told him to forget about Red Specter unless he came across him. But even that couldn’t get Red Specter off his mind and he couldn’t tell if it was just morbid curiosity or something like a teenage crush…This encounter with Agni was basically the same thing as coming across Red, Victor thought. “Of course I do.” * “Yuuri!” “What?” “Come here, I want to show you something!” Yuuri rolled off of the sofa and jogged to Phichit’s room. His wounds had pretty much healed. Instead of angry red punctures, his skin was pocked with pearly circles. It had only been three days. He was even able to work his “day-job” while he healed. He was ready to get back out there, but the nurse in him told him to pace himself. He was ready though—Phichit had even gotten him a new suit in record time. He just needed to be patient until his body fully bounced back. He found Phichit sitting, legs crossed, in his computer chair. “What is it?” Phichit pointed at his laptop screen. “Look at this.” It looked like a stat sheet—similar to the ones used for villains who were processed, but there was no danger rating. A man’s face was pictured next to a list ranging from things like height to ability, and even preferred food. The man, had piercing blue eyes and silver hair crowning a charmingly statuesque face. Yuuri tried not to look too long but he couldn’t help but notice the man’s inviting, pink lips and faint blush on his high cheeks. The man, Yuuri thought, was absolutely breathtaking. He felt Phichit looking at him and saw that he seemed a little too satisfied, eyebrows raised and arms crossed smugly. Yuuri cleared his throat. “Ok… who is he?” “You don’t recognize him?” “Uh… should I?” “I think so. It helps to know the face of your husband, don’t you think?” He was completely lost. “What?” “That’s Winter Torch.” Yuuri choked. His heart beat like a taiko drum in September. “へー?!うそ!ほんまに?!” “ほんま!” Phichit cackled as Yuuri immediately sat down in his lap and pulled them closer to the laptop. He eyed the screen hungrily. Victor Nikiforov. Six feet. Twenty-eight years old. Russian. His favorite food was listed as poutine but it had question marks by it. His name is Victor Nikiforov… “What the fuck…” Yuuri whispered in awe. Winter Torch had skin like the surface of an opal, refracting an array of pastel color. But, Victor Nikiforov was fair. Winter Torch had either flames or an icy fog instead of normal hair, and the same was true for his eyes. Victor Nikiforov… Victor Nikiforov was a normal person. Normal hair, skin, eyes. He had a hometown and he (maybe?) liked poutine. He wondered about that… Poutine wasn’t Russian. That didn’t matter because Yuuri was looking at Winter Torch, no, Victor Nikiforov, and he had zero words for how he felt. “Well? He’s hot, isn’t he? A whole honey-baked ham.” “He’s… he’s…” “Take your time, use your words.” “How did you find this?” “I’m Phichit Chulanont. You should be asking how I haven’t found this sooner.” “Do you think his favorite food is really poutine?” “That would be so weird if it was true.” “Yeah…” Yuuri sighed and tried to regain some dignity. He stood up and turned his back to the laptop, forcing himself to stop looking. “Do you uh… have anything planned for the day?” Phichit laughed at Yuuri’s transparent attempt at playing it cool. “I’m going to print it out for you.” “What?! No, no, no, no! Don’t do that!” Please do it. “Move,” Phichit rolled himself closer, but Yuuri was standing in front of his laptop. “That does nothing,” he said, and reached around his friend’s waist to type the command. Yuuri roared and tried to push his friend away from the laptop, but it was too late. The printer had already spat the picture out. “Why’d you do that?!” Bless you, Phichit.
“Because you wanted me to! Here!” He thrust the beautiful photo at his friend who refused to look at it. “I’m just going to slide it under your door later if you don’t take it now.” Yuuri was too stubborn. He crossed his arms and continued to look in the complete opposite direction. “Fine, you big baby.” He folded it up and shoved it in his pocket. “You’ll see this later. Anyway, about that job—are you ready for it?” Yuuri stood straighter. Fuck patience. He needed to work off some steam. “I was born ready.” “Alright, that’s what I like to hear. Suit up.” * These past few weeks had not been kind, Yuuri thought. On almost every job he’d been on, another thief had showed up to slow him down. It was becoming a real workout, dodging them or else incapacitating them. He didn’t care what Phichit said; he wasn’t having any conversations with anyone dressed in tights and running at him in the dead of the night. That was completely out of the question. Except this thief was different. He was in a custom stealth suit too—probably made from Pandora’s Iron—but his was sleeveless and he didn’t wear a full mask like Yuuri’s.He wore a small purple one that only obscured his eyes. He was perched on the bank teller’s counter, legs crossed and eyeing Yuuri curiously. Yuuri didn’t move. This guy seemed confident and Yuuri had a feeling that the thief had good reason to be. He smirked at Yuuri which, for some reason, felt familiar. “I love having company but I tend to like the names of those joining me…” he drawled. Weak. Yuuri wasn’t that easy, but it was possible the thief knew this and was just testing the waters. Yuuri crossed his arms and waited for the stranger to make a move. He chuckled before sliding elegantly from the counter. “I see you like to take things a little fast. No matter, I like it that way too. Straight to business.” The thief didn’t move from where he was standing either. Yuuri hated stalemates and he didn’t fancy going into fights blind. He turned on his heel and walked to the exit. “I love watching you go,” the thief called after him. Of course, Yuuri wasn’t actually leaving. He just needed another way in, preferably somewhere far away from the other thief to give him a head start if he needed to run. He clicked his comm link on for Phichit. “Did you get a good look at him?” “Yeah, I’m ID’ing him now. Rotten luck these days, Yuuri.” “Tell me about it.” He climbed onto the roof and found an unlocked entrance—thanks to Phichit’s interference—and he slinked inside. It was a good thing his goal was somewhere different than the main vaults where the other thief was undoubtedly headed. They need not fight over glittery things when there was enough for everyone. He would drop in and drop out before the mystery man even knew what happened. He almost rounded a corner and blew his cover—the man was on the other side of the wall. The mystery thief was walking in the other direction, as if he was looking for Yuuri. He held his breath and flattened himself against the wall. “Yuuri.” He didn’t dare speak. “I’m assuming you can hear me because the link is on. Unless you want to get found out, don’t talk to this guy. He’ll recognize your voice. It’s someone you know.” Huh? The footsteps faded away and Yuuri exhaled, backtracking to find another way to his goal in the labyrinthine bank. “What,” he snickered, “like a friend?” “Hey, that’s not cool. You have friends.” “Name one that isn’t you,” he whispered defiantly. “Excuse you. I’m your best friend so I’m definitely counting myself. That’s one. The Nishigoris make six.” “Children don’t count as friends.” “Says who?!” “If I can’t do shots with them, they’re not my friends.” “Ok, whatever, three is still a good number. And Christophe Giacometti from your pole dancing class makes four. Boom.” “What?! That’s Chris?!” “Admit it. You have friends.” “Chris is a jewel thief?!” “Uh. You are too. Don’t judge.” “I’m not. I just…” he thought about Chris, tall, flirty and fun. He was a bit too… extroverted for Yuuri, but he liked him well enough. He never would have guessed. He just didn’t seem like the type but, then again, did Yuuri seem like the type? “Oh my god, is he Dick Cartier?” “The one and only. He’s world class so be careful. But you’re world class too. I believe in you, buddy.” “Yikes.” “There’s a saying in English about this very thing. It’s about bird plumage or something. Birds that have… the same plumage… get along ok and are sometimes friends.” “That can’t be right, it doesn’t even rhyme.” “It doesn’t necessarily have to rhyme, Yuuri, Christ.” Yuuri shook his head wearily as he crept down a deserted hallway on the second floor. If he was being truthful, he knew the saying too but it was on the tip of his tongue—it had one of those unnecessary prepositions… Wait. Why did this matter? He needed to get the ruby from the bank teller’s personal safe and get out. “Whatever the saying is, it doesn’t apply to this situation. If he catches me, I have a feeling it won’t be two birds getting along ok as much it’ll be a cock fight.” “I just want the record to show that you said cock this time, not me.” “The record will show no such thing,” Yuuri said, ignoring Phichit’s mumbling about Yuuri being able to remember “cock fight” and not the saying about bird feathers. It really was annoying that he couldn’t remember it though, he thought as he crouched down behind a counter to find a small safe, tucked away behind a filing cabinet. He pulled it closer to him and set to work. He listened intently for the sound of footsteps in case Chris was still looking for him. He really didn’t want to hurt him. He was certain Chris didn’t know who he was though so it was likely that he would not hesitate in fighting Yuuri if it came down to it. Yuuri had to be quick. He thought about the birds again… “Any sign of DC?” Phichit asked. “Nope,” he breathed into the link. “Birds of a feather survive any weather... right?” “You’d think so since it rhymes.” “Nah, I think it’s still off.” He ignored Phichit’s salt. The safe’s lock was digital, so it required a bit of tinkering. Phichit was much better at this, and it wasn’t because he could try every combination in a matter of seconds. He was just brainy like that. Yuuri was still decent enough, just slower. He picked at the circuitry with his tools and he was soon halfway there. Footsteps echoed in the hall and Yuuri jumped. He crouched low and folded himself behind the filing cabinet under the counter. He waited. Closing his eyes in concentration, he listened. Chris swept the room, moving slowly and deliberately. Why was he so adamant about finding Yuuri? The footsteps eventually faded away, and Yuuri sighed, tumbling easily from behind the filing cabinet to resume his work. He was starting to wish Phichit was here so he could distract Chris. They never did things like that, but the more he encountered other thieves, the more working closely together was starting to sound more appealing. Then it clicked. “Birds of a feather flock together,” Yuuri said, and Phichit cheered his recognition. “Until the cat comes,” someone purred in his ear. He jumped a mile. The safe fell out of his lap as he backed away. Chris, it seemed, was hovering in midair and smiling at Yuuri, whose heart was racing. “Who’re you talking to?” he asked softly. “Yuuri?! What’s happening?” Phichit asked frantically. He could tune into the bank’s surveillance—Yuuri didn’t feel like answering at the moment. “That saying is actually about fair-weather friends; friends stay friends until the going gets tough,” Chris explained. Yuuri was silent. “Are you shy? You know, you seem familiar, but I can’t quite place you,” he said, languidly hovering in circles around Yuuri. “Have we met?” There was no time left. When Chris hovered behind him, Yuuri ducked and rolled to the safe. He picked at the wiring as quickly as he could. Chris put a hand on his shoulder, and Yuuri instinctively grabbed it, clenching Chris’s wrist in place. Chris hissed in pain while Yuuri worked one-handed. “I admit, I like it rough sometimes, but now isn’t the time or place,” he landed a firm kick to Yuuri’s back and Yuuri let go. It didn’t hurt much. Chris didn’t have super strength, or even enhanced strength like Yuuri which most likely meant no psychic abilities… Chris had elemental abilities then—some kind of physical manipulation, like Winter Torch. He was in trouble. There was no use trying not to leave evidence anymore if he wanted to get out of this in one piece without hurting Chris. “I have a feeling I’m evenly matched? That was a very tight grip…” Chris seethed. Yuuri turned to him and his blood ran cold. Several filing cabinets were hovering in a circle around his head before soaring in Yuuri’s direction. Yuuri dived and caught the safe he was working on just in time before it too flew into the air. He smashed it against the teller counter and it burst open, the ruby tumbling out of it. He caught it and threw the safe aside. He ducked as another filing cabinet narrowly missed him. Chris made him dance, jumping, weaving and stooping to avoid getting hit. In the middle of ducking one, another came right for his face and he punched it hard in the opposite direction. Chris whistled. “You are strong, aren’t you?” Yuuri ran for the door, checking the reflection in the glass for incoming cabinets. He was too slow; they all beat him to the door, piling on top of each other, blocking his way out. He pulled at them, but it was useless—Chris was holding them there with his power. He rounded on him, ready for a fight, but not sure what kind of punch would be best. Chris looked relaxed though, arms akimbo and hovering idly in the air. “Look, I admit, I lost my temper there, but you did hurt my wrist,” he rubbed it for show. “I’m assuming you’re Red Specter? Otherwise, you would’ve targeted the vaults instead of that one little gem.” Yuuri let him talk. He was scanning the walls and windows for an exit. Chris hovered closer. “I’m also guessing you were the one who disabled the security. I arrived expecting to do more work, but the door was open when I got here, so thank you.” “You’re welcome, dick head,” Phichit spat through Yuuri’s comm link. He must’ve been watching through surveillance now. “I propose that we forge a… partnership. You scratch my back, and I scratch yours. We could start tonight and split the bounty here. I think that’s fair since I arrived first, but you disabled the security. And, don’t be mistaken, it doesn’t always have to be about money in the future. We can help each other out when we get in trouble. And, if for whatever reason you feel like I’m not satisfying you, we can go our separate ways. What do you say? Care to be birds of a feather? ” Yuuri considered Chris. As appealing as it sounded, his reasons for stealing were personal and far too important to risk messing it up or splitting costs with someone he barely knew. What’s worse, he could inadvertently get Chris involved with Fujiwara. It was too dangerous. He shook his head, and to be sure, he tapped his index and middle fingers to his thumb, signing his refusal. Chris’ shoulders slumped; he looked comically disappointed. “Suit yourself, hot stuff,” He waved his hand nonchalantly. The filing cabinets behind Yuuri clattered and Yuuri stiffened bracing himself for impact, though he didn’t look away from Chris. To his surprise, the cabinets didn’t attack him, but floated gracefully back to their original spots, freeing the exit. Chris took something out of his pocket and kissed it before flicking it at Yuuri. He caught it and turned it over in his hands. It was like a business card but metal—it only had a phone number engraved on it and a faint, pink kiss mark. “Let me know if you change your mind.” *
The Next Day…
“Victor, forget about the rabbit-gator on 3rd and head to West Avenue immediately. Pyre broke out again and your presence is needed there.” The flames coming off Victor turned blood red. “I’m on it.” Victor spun, mid-sprint and headed the opposite direction after Pyre, his nemesis. Was it cliché to have a nemesis? If it was, it wasn’t Victor’s fault, as one doesn’t choose these things— they just happen. And, as it happens, Pyre, a pyro-kinetic maniac, had it out for Victor. For whatever reason, he, Pyre, wanted to kill him, and Victor thought it might simply be that Pyre was vain and competitive on top of being sadistic and amoral. Unlike Tim Fair, Victor had no sympathy for the five-star villain and wanted more than anything to slam his smug face into the cement (Pyre wasn’t the only one that was vain and competitive). Victor found the man doing cartwheels down West Avenue, flames erupting from the ends of his limbs whenever they were in the air. He stumbled upright when he saw Victor and smiled so wide, Victor thought it must hurt. Pyre had olive skin and crazed silver eyes. His hair was wild, and the fact that it was in a low pony-tail did not change this. He had not gotten his suit, so he was still in his orange prison jumper, but the top half had been burned off. His exposed chest had a tattoo of a dragon smoking a cigar on it. Victor didn’t know why, but he hated this tattoo. He grimaced at the villain, unable to contain his disdain. “Hey lover,” Pyre crooned, flames blossoming around his fists. “I got you a pet to play with.” “You shouldn’t have,” Victor said flatly. “Oh, but I did,” he cackled, falling into a fluid and complicated dance, fire growing out of his palms as he went. Victor sent jets of flames at him, not caring if it made contact. When it came to Pyre, there was no use holding back. He danced around Victor’s attacks and, fed up, Victor phased into flames to meet him face to face. Pyre grinned lavishly at him and bent out of his reach, nimble as ever. He pointed up. In the sky was a giant flaming bird. Victor gaped at its monstrous wings which were twice the size of a man and sent sparks flying in every direction as they flapped. The bird circled in the air before diving at Victor who rolled out of the way. Crouching, he punched the air—several blood red comets of fire rocketed at Pyre and he danced around these too. Victor cursed as he narrowly dodged the bird again. Pyre giggled. “You gave me the idea, handsome. When I saw all those beautiful baby birdies you made for Tim Fair,” he teased as he jumped to dodge another jet of fire, “I got jealous.” “You want fire? I can give you fire,” Victor fumed and the inferno on his head raged as he stooped to press his palm to the cement. Jets of bright red fire cracked through the pavement around them making Pyre tiptoe and stumble. The bird dived again, and this time, Victor wasn’t lucky. He bent backwards, bringing up his hands to protect himself and the bird flew through them. Victor shrieked, the pain ripping through him like a wave. He was vaguely aware that Pyre was laughing somewhere. He shakily raised his arm over his head in a half arc as if he was pulling on an enormous cloak. A burning dome appeared around him, obscuring him from view, and he knew that a ring of red flames was trapping Pyre in one spot with him. “If you let me see it, I’ll kiss it better for you!” Pyre cackled, but the bravado was a thin mask. Victor knew, and he was certain that Pyre knew, he was trapped. Screwing his eyes shut, Victor cursed, steeling himself to look at his hands. He cautiously opened his eyes to look and exhaled. He must have subconsciously coated them in his own flames right before the bird hit. They were red and hurt like hell, but they would be fine. He glared out of his protective globe at Pyre who was stalking its perimeter like a hungry cat. “Come out, my little piston, so I can rip your throat open!” Five is the magic number. He took two deep breaths. That’s two. He raised his hands and the dome rose with them, flattening into a fiery blanket. And that’s three. Bloodthirsty glee glinted in Pyre’s eyes before it became horror. The blanket flew at him, wrapping him in a tight bundle. Pyre screamed and Victor didn’t let go. That’s four. Hands stretched in front of him, he ran to the blazing prison, and let it fall. Before Pyre could get his bearings, he snapped a pair of nano-cuffs on his wrists. Five. That was it. Pyre smiled sweetly up at him. “My safe word is duck.” Victor frowned. But then he remembered… he turned, in what felt like slow motion, to see the flaming bird diving for his chest. * Yuuri woke up violently, shouting and stumbling out of his bed. He didn’t know why. His alarm wasn’t due for another five minutes. He doesn’t remember dreaming. He scanned his room for some sort of threat but there was none. He felt a weird, lingering sense of panic though. Phichit knocked sharply on his door before opening it. “What’s wrong?” “Uh, nothing, I just woke up.” “Bad dream?” “No.” “Are you…” he made lewd motions with his fist and Yuuri threw his pillow at him. Phichit cackled. “There’s no shame if you are,” he said and before Yuuri could retaliate, there was a flash and clicking sound. He blinked and rubbed his eyes. Phichit was holding his phone for half a second and shoving it back in his pocket in the other half. “My followers love your bedhead. Now, get up. You don’t want to be late for work,” and he shut the door. Yuuri groaned because he was too tired for his “day-job” (even though it was technically the night shift). He worked as a nurse from late afternoon until the early hours of the morning at Spring Gate General. Sometimes. He needed to keep his skills sharp. He shuffled about his room getting ready. * “I said duck, didn’t I?” Victor thought he spat something venomous at Pyre but he couldn’t actually tell because Pyre didn’t respond. Pyre always had some kind of retort. Maybe he had said it in Russian? He tried to talk, but it was too much effort. Too much effort? Was he hurt? No, he couldn’t be hurt because he couldn’t let Pyre get away… but Pyre was still here, taunting him, saying something absolutely infuriating. He felt cold. He never felt cold. Especially not in the daytime.
Get him on a stretcher.
How? He’s got Pyre attached to him…
Pyre was attached to him? He blinked and tried to find the villain’s snide face. Everything was blurry. He needed to get it together. Get his wits. Am I moving?
We need a doctor in here now! Hero down!
Is that Winter Torch?
What’s Pyre doing here?
They mentioned a doctor. Was Pyre hurt too? He doubted it, Pyre didn’t need a doctor. Someone’s hands were working at his suit and it clicked. He needed the doctor. “NO!” Suddenly everything was clear. He shot upright, pain spiking somewhere in his abdomen but he didn’t care. The nurse who had been touching him looked startled but Victor slapped his hands away. “No,” he said again. “I don’t need a doctor!” “Afraid of needles, dear?” Pyre giggled and all Victor could do was growl menacingly. “Sir, Mr. Torch, please, we can help you.” “I said no!” Without meaning to, flames rolled off him and the nurses surrounding him jumped back, all the while, Pyre chortled gleefully as he watched.
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Work was drudgery. He didn’t know where the other nurses were, so Yuuri was stuck doing clinic work alone. This job, he convinced himself, would keep his skills sharp. It was hard to think that was true when he was doing the same things over and over again—taking temperatures and tapping knees… He was capable of so much more—he had more knowledge and early experience than most of the doctors on staff but the fact remained that a stamp of approval from a yakuza boss couldn’t compete with a degree from a nursing or medical school. It didn’t matter how many bullets he’d pulled out of people in the past—or how many despicable lives he’d saved. Thankfully, he was almost done studying to be a nurse practitioner so he would soon be out of the woods of busy work. Clinic work was truly a hell of its own, no matter how much he smiled and comforted patients. It left his brain with room to think and the things he thought about made him itch with anxiety. He never truly had a satisfactory discussion with Phichit about asking heroes for help with Fujiwara. It was an argument that hung like a slightly grey cloud in the sky: it wasn’t raining yet, but he knew a storm was on its way. He knew Phichit loved him—Yuuri had grown into the habit of carrying the fast-acting serum on him because the sacrifice Phichit made to get it meant more than the world to Yuuri. He just couldn’t do what his friend was suggesting, and he wasn’t completely sure about that decision either. The phial was in his pocket and it bumped against the business card Chris had given him. He had taken it out of his wallet almost every hour to look at it so he decided to just keep it closer. It was true that he needed more help but at what cost? It was better to work alone. His anxiety was running wild, but at least it fueled his work ethic. He made quick work of the clinic; he jogged in and out of examination rooms as the time crawled by. Yuuri had just explained the importance of condoms for the sixth time that afternoon when Dr. Chester, who usually worked in the ER, leaned his head in. “Knock-knock,” he said in a sing-song voice. For some reason he sounded nervous. Yuuri’s patient looked offended, drawing her purse closer to her chest. “Yes, Doctor?” “What’s your afternoon looking like?” “Uh,” he gestured to the patient and Dr. Chester nodded. “Got any time?” “I’m the only nurse on this floor so… I don’t think I do…” “Oh. Ok.” He stepped into the room and held his hand out to the patient. “Dr. Chester. How are you today? Great,” he rushed, not waiting for an answer as he shook her hand. She looked scandalized and Yuuri mouthed an apology behind his back to her. Dr. Chester took her chart from Yuuri and scanned it before taking a pen and paper from his coat to scribble something. “Dr. Dana in gynecology is excellent in these matters. I think you’ll find her very helpful. You can ask her more about that little number too,” he said tapping the slip of paper and handing it to her. “You’re good to go, have a nice day.” The woman shuffled huffily out of the room and Dr. Chester shut the door behind her. Yuuri crossed his arms and fixed him with a look. “Pardon my English, but what the hell was that?” “I know, I know, I hate when people commandeer patients—” “That wasn’t commandeering! That was something else entirely! That was just,” his hands flew in the air as if a good enough word would fall in them, “rude! What’s going on with you?” “It’s… nothing.” Dr. Chester swung his arms awkwardly. Yuuri raised his eyebrow. He wasn’t buying it. “We’re having a rough night in the ER, and we… I was wondering… if you would just pop down there and help out with one of the patients. If that’s ok with you. It’s not a big deal.” All that over one patient? That shouldn’t be a problem. Things got backed up in the ER all the time. Yuuri would usually be happy to help out but he hated when other doctors and nurses bothered his patients. He was in a mood… but he would still help. “Yeah, sure. You can just… ask next time, you know,” Dr. Chester seemed strangely relieved and restless at the same time. “Who’s going to cover me here?” “Don’t worry about that right now, let’s just go—I mean, we’ll just mosey on over there, ha ha.” Yuuri frowned at him. “When we get down there, I’m going to check your temperature. You’re acting weird,” Dr. Chester laughed shiftily when they entered the elevator—ignoring the agitated looks of the patients in the waiting room— and when the doors opened again, Yuuri understood where all the nurses had gone. It seemed like a good fraction of the hospital’s staff was down there and most of them were nervously talking amongst themselves. Doctors were leaning against the reception desk looking stressed and affronted but no one seemed to be really working. Even stranger, there was a curious odor of burnt fabric lingering in the air… “What’s going on? Should we call diagnostics or…” “Oh, it’s not so bad, just busy,” Dr. Chester replied in a slightly higher voice than usual. He snapped his fingers at two of the nurses standing by reception and flinched at the glares they gave him. “Sorry! Just stressed! That was rude… uh… would you two please head up to the clinic and take over for Mr. Katsuki here? He left quite a queue behind.” They gave him scathing looks before slinking over to the elevator. Yuuri noticed that the sleeve of one of the nurse’s scrubs had several burn holes, as if from a cigarette. The patient must be an unruly fire type. That sucked. Dr. Chester turned around in several circles as if looking for something. Yuuri put his hand on his shoulder to stop him. “Open,” Yuuri poked a thermometer into Dr. Chester’s mouth before he could register what was happening. “You are off the wall today.” The temperature was normal but Dr. Chester wasn’t. “I know. I’m sorry. I just,” he scratched his head and shrugged. “I guess I’m just not blessed with the same gifts as others, you know? I hear patients love you Yuuri. Your name comes up a lot. I’m actually working on opening my own practice soon, so when you finally finish school to be a nurse practitioner call me, because I have a job for you.” “Uh, thank you…?” Yuuri tried to keep a straight face but he was beginning to worry about Dr. Chester who seemed a bit manic as he shuffled through papers on a medicine cart. “If a patient doesn’t want to be treated, then they don’t want to be treated. It’s not our job to force them…” “What, so we’re going to let him bleed out?” Yuuri caught snatches of a conversation between two put-upon looking nurses by the water cooler. “A patient is refusing treatment?” He chimed in. “Is that what this is about?” Before the nurses could confirm or deny, Dr. Chester thrust a chart at Yuuri and clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Happens all the time, right? Some patients require a more gentle touch. Do you think you can put on the charm for this one and patch him up for us? “Uh.” “Great, you’re the best,” and he pushed Yuuri behind a curtain. “I said NO DOCTORS!” Before Yuuri could even look properly, he had to duck. A red ball of fire consumed the curtain behind him and flickered out. Yuuri gasped and rubbed his eyes. Someone was cackling. “TELL BOSS TO COME GET ME HIMSELF!” Yuuri froze. He recognized that voice. With shaking hands he rifled through the papers Dr. Chester had thrust on him. They didn’t say much—no one could get close enough to actually get a conclusive report on what was wrong with… “Winter Torch,” he breathed. The hero, propped up on a stretcher, was positively glowing with anger. The flames rolling off him and out of his eyes were a deep red. A chain of fire seemed to be linking his wrist to a wild, cackling, handcuffed man sitting beside him in a tattered prison jump suit. What the actual hell? Dr. Chester’s panic seemed to be contagious making Yuuri shake as he shuffled through the papers. Winter Torch was injured, he was brought in over an hour ago, and he was refusing treatment. Boss, a seasoned hero who was also a household name, had contacted the hospital, saying he was half way across the world and wouldn’t be able to come get Winter Torch, and that there was no one on their staff to treat him even if he did. Winter Torch had become “reactionary” when hospital staff approached him with treatment. Yuuri’s mind went numb. “Discharge me. I’m seeing my own people,” Winter Torch sounded absolutely incensed, something he had never heard from the hero before. Yuuri’s mouth ran dry as he looked Winter Torch up and down. The hands of his suit had been burned off and the fabric on the side of his abdomen was frayed and damp looking… was it blood? He shook his head to clear it. He needed to do his job. “We actually got a call from Boss saying that their doctor on staff retired. He mentioned old age? They haven’t filled her position yet, so in the meantime, he wants you to receive treatment here,” Yuuri said gathering his courage. “No. Doctors,” he choked out. Yeah, he was hurting. “Winny’s afraid of the doctor,” the man in the jump suit trilled, throwing his head back in vicious laughter. Yuuri ignored him. “You’re in luck then,” Yuuri said, dropping the papers on the counter. “I’m not a doctor. I’m not even a full time nurse. ” He walked to the edge of Winter’s bed and the hero visibly tensed up. The flames on his head crackled menacingly. “I understand why you’re apprehensive. As a patient, it seems like you don’t have a lot of control when you see a doctor. You don’t really know what they’re talking about or what they’re doing to you. But you can always tell them when you’re feeling uncomfortable and something tells me you would have no trouble getting someone to stop doing something you don’t like.” He smiled kindly at him. Winter Torch… no… Victor—it was Victor Nikiforov who was afraid of doctors—didn’t react, but there were no balls of fire flying at him, so Yuuri took that as a good sign. He got an idea. “How about we share the control?” Victor narrowed his eyes (small windows of red sparks) at Yuuri who reached for an instrument behind Victor’s head. “We’ll start small so you can see that you can trust me. I’ll check your ears, and then you can check mine.”
“What?”
“It’s standard procedure. This,” he said raising the instrument for Victor to see, “Is like a little telescope we use to make sure your eardrums are ok,” and before Victor could flinch, Yuuri was checking his ears and he was done. “See? Your turn,” he cleaned it and put it in Victor’s hand. He was certain that Victor wouldn’t use it. The hero rolled it over in slightly shaking fingers, glaring at it. He was about to tell Victor that it was ok, that he didn’t have to, when the hero propped the instrument in his ear for a brief moment. Yuuri was shocked. Every brain cell and nerve in him worked overtime to keep him from screaming. “G-good,” he stammered and took the instrument from him. He grabbed another. “This is basically for checking your nose.” Victor grimaced and leaned away. “And this,” jeered the man in the ripped jump suit as he waved both middle fingers “is for sticking up your ass.” Yuuri snapped his head to look at him. He noticed the long and bright, flaming chain connecting his wrist to Victor’s and he pieced two and two together. Victor must have been fighting him—now that he looked hard enough, he recognized him as Pyre—and something must have happened to trigger a fight or flight response in Victor, causing the chain linking the two together. He seethed, eye twitching a bit before placing a firm hand on Pyre’s shoulder… a very firm hand. The five star villain winced, eyes growing wide at Yuuri in shock. “I suggest,” he whispered softly, “that the next time you want to open your mouth to bother my patient, you think long and hard about whether or not it’s worth it.” He released him. Pyre hissed, his shoulder quivering where Yuuri’s hand left it. The rope of fire flickered and Pyre sniggered when Yuuri looked back at Victor. “I know, right? You liked that too, didn’t you? Dr. Love is almost as hot-headed as you.” Pyre addressed Victor who only scowled at him. Yuuri cleared his throat and picked up the instrument—an otoscope—and gestured for Victor to lean closer. “I need to see if you’re keeping your nose clean, Mr. Torch,” he joked, trying to keep the tone light, “and then you can check me.” Victor screwed his eyes closed and Yuuri checked him. He changed the hygiene piece on it and handed it to Victor who only shook his head. Yuuri shrugged and put it back. He took another otoscope and told Victor he would check his eyes. The hero gave him a funny look, as Yuuri flashed the instrument in front of two almond shaped, fiery pits. “All good here,” he handed it to Victor. Again, he was slow, but he eventually held it up to Yuuri’s face. He cleared his throat again as he pushed his glasses onto his head for Victor to get a better look. His brain was overheating. He almost lost all conscious thought. Victor’s glittering, chiseled opal face—the face of a hero—was inches from his. And then Victor was done and putting the thing back in Yuuri’s hand. He put the otoscope back on the hook. “Next is your temperature. We want to make sure you don’t have a fever.” He took a reinforced thermometer from his pocket, specially designed for fire types like Victor, and put it in his mouth. It beeped and he examined it. “What’s your normal temperature?” Victor shrugged. The temperature matched that of a campfire. “Seems right,” he shrugged nonchalantly and tossed the hygiene cover to replace it with a new one. Victor really did chuckle that time. It sounded strained and choked. Yuuri needed a crash cart. For himself. Victor pushed the thermometer in his mouth and Yuuri laughed when he took it out before it beeped. “How fucking sweet,” Pyre drawled. “Hey, doc, I’m hurt. Can you give me something to suck on too?” Yuuri took a deep breath, not appreciating the second interruption. He clucked his tongue at Victor who looked curiously back. “Do you want me to sew his mouth shut?” Victor winked. Yuuri’s left brain crashed. “I’ll just say I found him like that,” he rasped. Pyre frowned at Yuuri who pulled a medical needle and thread from his scrubs. He reached for his face and Pyre actually looked scared. Good. Yuuri pressed up in a very special place under Pyre’s chin, and the villain was out cold, head lolling unnaturally backwards. Victor looked questioningly at him, though he didn’t look too concerned. “He’s just taking a nap. I didn’t want to waste good thread on him,” he said pulling out his stethoscope. Victor was clearly trying not to laugh again—it seemed like it hurt to do so. “Let’s get your heart and lungs checked…” Yuuri moved the stethoscope over Victor’s chest and back, telling him when to breathe. His heartrate was a bit fast, but Yuuri supposed he must still be nervous…He finished, cleaned the ear piece and handed it to Victor who, again, took it apprehensively like a fawn. He put the chest piece against Yuuri’s heart. Yuuri focused all of his energy on examining a flower painted on the wall behind Victor’s head. Four petals. Purple. Winter Torch is listening to my heart. Yellow center. Dumb leaves. Victor looked up at him, and slowly took the earpieces out of his ears. He hadn’t even asked Yuuri to breathe yet (which was probably a good thing since Yuuri couldn’t). “I’’ve been… silly. I think you should look at the real problem now… if that’s ok…” he said weakly. Yuuri let go of a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Of course,” he said. “Whenever you’re ready.” He adjusted the tattered curtains to give Victor more privacy. I’ll just step out so you can change, and then—” “No, that’s ok. Stay.” Victor tugged at the neck of his suit, and Yuuri thought time stopped. He blinked, and where there had been a shimmering black and gold battle suit was a torn black t-shirt and jeans. Yuuri stammered, absolutely befuddled at the flashy suit’s disappearance. Victor looked at him and struggled to push himself up straighter. Yuuri snapped out of it and rushed over to help him. “It’s nano-tech,” he explained, revealing a small golden snowflake pinned to the inside of his shirt. “Oh,” was all Yuuri could say. “Could you…” he lifted his elbows stiffly, and Yuuri realized it must be difficult for him to raise his arms. Yuuri rolled the hem of Victor’s torn and bloody shirt up over his abdomen. “You don’t need to take it completely off,” he provided, “I just need to look at the wound…” The skin here was also like a glittering opal—otherworldly and certainly unnatural. But still beautiful. There was a gash over Victor’s left rib cage, almost under his arm, and it seemed so out of place—the red, human blood spilling over something that looked like a gem. But that wasn’t the only thing that was strange. Hadn’t Pyre burned Victor? Yuuri began cleaning and disinfecting the area while Victor screwed his eyes shut looking the other way. Yuuri wanted to laugh, because it was endearing, but made sure there was no humor in his face. The cut turned out to be surprisingly straight and clean—completely different from what a burn from someone like Pyre should be like. “This is interesting.” “What?” “Did Pyre use a weapon to do this, like a knife or sword?” “No, it was one of his fire beasts.” “That’s weird—fire doesn’t do things like this.” “What’s wrong?” Victor stiffened and panic set in his voice. “Nothing’s wrong,” Yuuri said quickly, “it’s just that fire burns, it doesn’t cut. And you’ve got a pretty clean laceration… Pyre must have developed the ability to make his flames become… less like plasma and more of a solid element. It’s… weird. But this cut’s actually much better than it could’ve been.” When Victor was cleaned up Yuuri cleared his throat to get his attention again. Victor opened his eyes but didn’t look at Yuuri. “This next part is a little tricky.” “What do you mean?” “You need stitches,” he said slowly and Victor hissed, shifting uncomfortably. “But before I can do that, I need to be able to look at the skin around the cut.” “You’re looking at it right now though,” Victor protested. “No, I mean I need to look at your skin… it’s impossible to check for any other complications when your skin is like this—opaque and glittery. Do you think you could… power down? Just for a moment while I examine you and stitch you up.” Victor took a few rattling breaths which concerned Yuuri. He took Victor’s hand and the hero flinched, still trying to steady his breathing. “It’s just for a moment,” Yuuri whispered. Victor slipped his hand out of his and tried to sit up straighter. “Just don’t look up,” he whispered, and Yuuri almost missed it, but he nodded. “Of course. You can trust me.” He focused on the wound, pointedly looking away from Victor’s face. The multicolored skin faded into a fair hue that would, Yuuri thought, be luminescent if it weren’t pale and clammy from stress. Yuuri hadn’t realized that he had been sweating until Victor powered down—he was like a walking furnace and now that he was back to normal, the air around them cooled. Victor’s breathing was heavy but steady, and Yuuri made sure not to look up. If he was being honest, he felt guilty. Victor didn’t want him to know what he looked like, but Yuuri already knew. He could imagine Victor’s blue eyes screwed tight. Silver hair ruffled and falling over his distressed face. This wasn’t right, and Yuuri couldn’t change it. He made sure not to look. The skin around the wound was a bit bruised, but there were no fatal signs. He took some thread and a fresh needle from a metal tray beside him. “There doesn’t seem to be any problems. I’m going to start the stitches now. It should be numb so you’ll only feel a soft tug, ok?” “Do it,” he said through clenched teeth. Yuuri rubbed Victor’s knee reassuringly. “I know this sucks, but it’s almost over.” He paused, not sure if he should say what he wanted but… what the hell. “I actually got hurt recently,” he began, thinking about the gem-dragon. Some manic energy that he couldn’t identify flooded him so he couldn’t care less if Victor recognized him as the thief he almost caught. “Whenever I was in pain, I thought about the names of the fish that my parents used in their restaurant. I listed them off in my head. Can you make your own list to distract yourself?” Victor nodded curtly. Yuuri readied his needle. “Here we go then,” he said and began piecing Victor back together. “Argh!” Victor jumped, almost moving Yuuri’s needle. He paused until Victor settled back down. “You ok?” Victor didn’t answer, so Yuuri moved quickly. “I can tell you’re not trying to distract yourself,” he chided. “That’s ok, we can just talk.” “I hate that I’m going to have a scar. It just shows that I messed up,” Victor rasped and Yuuri frowned. “That’s not true. Scars are… trophies. They’re evidence of something that couldn’t kill you.” Victor grunted but didn’t jump again. “That’s morbid.” “I’m a nurse, of course it’s morbid. And scars aren’t that bad. I’ve got plenty.” “From what?” “Uh, college sports…” Yuuri felt dumb saying it, but he had already blurted it out. “What sport?” He thought for a moment. “MMA.” “Sounds… brutal.” Yuuri didn’t reply, because he already said way more than he thought was smart. He just nodded. “Scars aren’t bad… I just don’t want this one. I can’t explain it…” Yuuri bit his lip and nodded again. He took one second to think before taking a phial out of his scrubs pocket. He opened it one handed and applied two drops to the half stitched wound—making Victor twitch violently—before stoppering it and dropping it back in his pocket. “What was that? I thought I was supposed to be numb?” “You are. If you weren’t that would’ve hurt much more. It’ll help you heal.” Victor sighed and for the first time, his muscles relaxed. “You’re the first doctor I’ve seen since I was a kid…” “I’m not a doctor,” Yuuri chuckled. “And don’t worry about the stitches,” he said, finishing up the end of the thread. Victor was patched up. “There won’t be a scar.” “Why is that?” “Uh… stitches are my specialty,” he thought about the phial of fast acting healing serum in his pocket. “It’ll be like this whole ordeal never happened.” “I doubt that I’ll forget what happened today. I kind of made an ass of myself in front of everyone.” Victor’s hands folded anxiously on his lap and Yuuri gawked at them. “You didn’t tell me you were hurt here too! How was I supposed to see this under all that glitter,” he exclaimed raising Victor’s wrist to look at his scorched palms. “It’s not that bad.” Yuuri shook his head and scoffed, turning to gather some ointments and gauze. He treated Victor’s hands too. Victor was right—they weren’t that bad, but still. He was halfway satisfied after interrogating Victor about any other injuries he may not know about. Yuuri almost dreaded the next part, but no nurse worth their salt would skip important steps in treatment just because their patient was scared. When he was still working as a “doctor” for Fujiwara, one guy nearly shot him for this next part and Yuuri still did it anyways. Victor was still powered down so Yuuri smiled at Victor’s hands instead of looking him in the eye. “You’re almost done. Next, I’m going to give you some juice.” He could almost imagine Victor scrunching up his nose—he heard the apprehension in his voice. “Juice?” “Yeah. It’s like… a capri sun pouch,” he said moving to wheel an IV closer to Victor’s bed, “except the straw goes in your arm.” “Гавно…” he whispered bleakly. “Do I have to?” “Absolutely. More than half of our body is made up of water and the stress your body endured today burned through a lot of it. Refilling your tank is going to help you heal more effectively.” Victor began breathing hard again as Yuuri tied a rubber strap around Victor’s bicep. Several thick veins popped up which was a relief. “Mr. Torch, this will take five seconds tops, but before we start, I have to ask. Where did you get this shirt?”
“What?”
“Where’d you get it? The fabric is incredible.” “I… I don’t remember, I think it was a department store in St. Petersburg.” “Aw man, I don’t think I can travel anytime soon. Is the brand American?” “Maybe Ralph-Lauren?” “Was it expensive?” “I don’t think so.” “And the jeans?” “Definitely pricey.” “Can I buy a pair like them here?” “Most like—FUCK!” “All done.”“I hate you, I hate you. I hate you so much,” he whimpered, but it was pointless, the needle was already in and taped down. Yuuri smiled, completely satisfied and told Victor it was ok for him to power back up. The air around them grew warm. Yuuri looked up. Before, he thought it was impossible for a burning rock to look soft, but now, he knew better. Victor’s timid, tired smile made all his twenty-five years feel worthwhile. “Thank you,” he said. “Of course.” He smiled back. “You want to give me stitches and stick me with a needle too, to call it even?” Victor laughed, sounding stronger already. “I don’t think that’ll be necessary,” he said. “I know you’re proud of them, but I don’t want to give you anymore scars.” “I, uh, appreciate that.” He looked at Pyre whose head was still lolling to the side, drool dripping down his chin. Yuuri nodded at him. “I’ll have someone call Ares Island so a squad can come pick him up. Because your body temperature is so high, you’re going to go through a lot of fluids. We’ll keep you overnight until you’ve recovered.” Victor tilted his head at him, eyeing him curiously and Yuuri fidgeted. He shuffled Victor’s sparse papers off the counter. “As a rule, the hospital doesn’t bill heroes…” Victor kept staring. “What’s your name?” “Yuuri Katsuki. Sorry, I should’ve told you sooner.” Victor’s eyes narrowed again, making Yuuri uncomfortable. “I think we’ve met somewhere before,” he murmured. His mouth was dry—the air Yuuri desperately needed was trapped in his throat. All he could do was raise his eyebrows questioningly. “Maybe through a mutual friend?” Yuuri licked his lips and tried a smile. “I don’t think so. If that were true, I’m sure I would’ve remembered you. I do have one of those faces after all.” Victor returned his smile as Yuuri slipped out of the curtains.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Yuuri needed to breathe. When he came from behind the curtains, he knew he needed to find some place to calm down, to collect his buzzing, fly away thoughts, but he was immediately trapped. Everyone turned to look at him. It was strange, like walking in on a surprise birthday party, but all the attendants had just heard terrible news. Dr. Chester ran up to him and the other staff members were close behind. “You were in there forever, what happened?” Yuuri swallowed and forced himself to act normal. “He’s got a laceration over his ribs under his left arm and some minor burns on his hands. I think we should keep him overnight while he gets some fluids in him. We also need to contact Ares Island so we can get a transport for Pyre.” Dr. Chester’s mouth fell open in an ‘o’ as he smacked his face. He looked like The Scream. “How on earth…” “You asked me to put on the charm, remember?” He was trying to be nonchalant. He gave Dr. Chester the papers and made to move away again, but the other doctors and nurses weren’t finished with him yet. “How did you do it without getting third degree burns,” one nurse asked. “I don’t know, I just talked to him…” “We talked too, and he was a nightmare.” “He was just scared, wasn’t he?” Yuuri was beginning to feel a bit dizzy. He tried to edge away from the crowd when another doctor chimed in. “He’s got a serious phobia. My guess is past trauma. It’s crazy to think that someone like him is scared of something though!” “He’s only human,” Yuuri mumbled. “He’s lucky you were here, Yuuri, because usually when a patient refuses treatment and gets violent like that, we discharge them. It’s a liability otherwise.” “This hospital will not be held responsible for letting this generation’s top hero suffer from untreated injuries,” Dr. Chester asserted. “There was no way we could take ‘no’ for an answer. Something had to be done.” “Who’s going to watch him tonight?” “And risk getting my head blown up? Nope, no thanks.” “Nose goes,” one nurse chuckled, tapping their nose. The crowd began to thin out when the topic of Victor’s night care came up so he took his chance to leave. Someone called his name but he kept walking. He turned into a bathroom and locked himself in a stall. Yuuri’s breath stampeded out of him. It raked his lungs raw. He dug his fingers into his scalp and the tears began to fall. A scream mixed in with the frantic breaths in his chest fought to escape him, but he bit his lip, not caring if it bled, to keep it trapped inside. He was done. Victor must know. He knew he was Red Specter. That was the only explanation. That was why he seemed familiar to Victor. How was he going to continue helping his family while he’s in prison? He needed to call Phichit. Phichit would have to take over for him until he found a way to break out. Would he be sent to the same prison as his teacher, Minako? Or would they lock him away on Ares Island? He needed to let Phichit know... choked sobs rattled in his chest. No… he couldn’t talk to Phichit like this; not yet—he’d run to find Yuuri. He didn’t want Phichit to see him like this. Why had he talked so much? It’s like he didn’t even care about his family, like he didn’t care about Mari. He choked on his tears and his breathing was too fast for his body to keep up with—his shoulders shook and he rocked back and forth trying to steady himself. Albacore, Amberjack, Bluefin, Freshwater Eel… he ripped his phone out of his pocket and hit call on the first number that popped up. It answered on the first ring. “もしもし？Yuuri?” “Mom,” he choked out. “Yuuri! Honey, what’s wrong?” “I made a mistake, mom.” “Yuuri, it’s ok, baby, everyone makes mistakes. It’ll be ok.” Yuuri sniffled, still breathing hard, but the sound of his mother talking to him in his first language soothed his nerves. “Can you breathe?” “No. It hurts.” “Honey, where are you? Where’s Phichit?” “At work.” “Please breathe with me, Yuuri.” She guided him, and Yuuri tried to follow. Tried to empty his head. “I always said you needed to come back to Hasetsu,” she said. “I could make your favorite katsudon and you could relax in the onsen. Do you remember what the onsen looks like in spring, Yuuri?” “Yeah,” he breathed. He could see it—gentle pink trees shedding fluttering petals into the water below. It was a pain to clean up during the busy season, but therapeutic to look at. Everything was so pink, so soft in spring. Even the steaming water looked like it was mixed with carnival sugar in the right light. “That sounds much better Yuuri. Can you take another deep breath?” He did. “Yuuri, you’re not human if you’re not making mistakes. You need to focus on what you can do to make the best of your situation. Try not to focus on what’s making your situation worse.” “Mhmm.” Is that Yuuri? Give me the phone. Yuuri could hear his sister’s voice in the background. His mom must be at the hospital with her. “Yuuri.” “Hey,” he greeted his sister. His voice was a mess. “Yuuri, get it together, or so help me, I will fly to America to kick your ass.” Yuuri laughed and it sounded pathetic in his ears. “Listen, and don’t try to argue with me because, you’re not allowed to. You’re strong. I don’t care what mistake it is you think you made because it doesn’t matter. You can fix it and you will. So clean yourself up and get back out there.” “Yes, ma’am.” “I’m giving the phone back to mom. Don’t make me take it back from her.” Before he could say goodbye, his mother was back on the phone but scolding Mari for being harsh. His mom told him about the onsen, about how business was going. She talked about small, meaningless things like how the neighbors were doing and how some of the local shops had closed. It brought Yuuri completely out of his panic. He felt limp and tired but soaked with shame. He was no longer panicking but he was still crying, the shame of him having just had a panic attack overwhelming him. He knew it was irrational… that was just the way his brain worked. “Mom, I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Don’t apologize, honey. Mari, stop it, leave him alone.” His mother scolded his sister who had shouted to give the phone back to her. “I’ve gotta go. I’m at work.” “Are you going to be ok?” “Yeah, don’t worry.” “Don’t tell a mother not to worry,” she said, sounding stern, “but I believe you. Call me the instant you need to talk again. And make sure you call Phichit when you get a break.” “Ok. Bye, mom.” He sat on the toilet, sniffling, trying to get his bearings. He ripped some tissue to clean his face. Bang! He jumped as his stall door shuddered. Utterly bewildered, he hurried to unlock it. A teenage boy in a hoodie was standing in front of him, looking absolutely livid. “If you’re going to cry like a baby on the job, then maybe you shouldn’t be a fucking doctor.” “Eh? Uh… I’m not a doctor.” The teen looked him up and down with obvious and unnecessary dislike. His eyes rested on the ID badge pinned to his scrubs. Yuuri backed up, not sure what was happening. “Yuuri? Is that your fucking name? Nobody using my name should be crying in the bathroom like some freaking toddler!” “I’m sorry, can I help you?” Yuuri was alarmed by this stranger’s seemingly personal offense to Yuuri’s mere existence. “I’m looking for the fucking doctors. Just my luck that when I actually find one, he’s bawling his eyes out in the bathroom. If this job is that stressful, then retire already!” “Ok, I already told you I’m not a doctor. I’m a nurse, so I don’t know what to tell you,” Yuuri snapped. “Однохуйственно!” “Excuse me?” “Where’s the ER?!” “You’re in it!” The teen sucked his teeth and stormed off. Yuuri was so shocked and ticked at the teen that he didn’t even feel the shame that had washed over him earlier. He was just mad now. He washed his face in the sink, with more force than was necessary. His face was rubbed pink and he grumbled about teens and how the kid was lucky. He remembered the last time he saw someone talk like that—some grunt mouthed off to Fujiwara and now he wasn’t around to talk about it. Yuuri shook his head. He shouldn’t think like that; after all, he wasn’t a killer, especially not because of something so petty. Where had this kid even come from? He closed his eyes, the kid’s face swimming into his thoughts: green eyes, blonde, scowling, wearing a red and blue hoodie… “Shit!” He tore out of the bathroom and bolted back into the ER. He grabbed the first nurse he saw by the elbow. She looked startled. “Did a blonde teenager in a hoodie just come through here?” “Uh, yeah, he just left! He visited Winter Torch, but he didn’t take long.” Yuuri felt cold as he sprinted back to Victor’s stretcher. He ripped the curtains back. Victor looked up, the fire crackling in his eyes sparking in surprise. “Are you ok?!” “Uh, yes… why?” Victor looked confused. “The Russian Punk,” Yuuri stammered, “he was just here!” Comprehension dawned on Victor’s face and he nodded. “Oh, yes. He kept it short though.” “I—I don’t know what to say, I’m so sorry. I just saw him in the bathroom and it didn’t occur to me—” “Ah, don’t worry. He’s not a threat to me. He’s just a kid.” “Mr. Torch,” addressing him that way felt so weird, but he couldn’t call him Mr. Nikiforov… that would be weirder and require far more explaining. “You need rest. You shouldn’t be having any stressful interactions—” “Oh he’s stressful, alright, but I can handle it. He’s family after all,” Victor chuckled Yuuri gaped. “Family?” “Our little secret ok?” Victor winked. “He’s got your name, you know.” “Yeah,” Yuuri crossed his arms and tried not to roll his eyes. “I’ve heard.” Victor looked at him questioningly. “You two met, huh?” “You could say that.” Victor laughed and pulled a phone from his pocket. “Apparently, my uh… confrontation with Pyre is all over the news and my fans are a bit worried.” “Oh,” was all Yuuri could say. He should’ve thought about that. Reporters must be swarming the hospital’s entrances right now. Of course, they weren’t allowed in without Victor’s consent which he clearly hadn’t given. The past half hour felt so intimate, like it was only happening to Yuuri, so he almost forgot that there were other people in the world that cared about what happened to Winter Torch. “I think a simple Instagram post should put them at ease,” he said waving the phone. “Yeah, I can take your picture if you want,” Yuuri reached for the phone, but Victor pulled it out of his reach. “What?” “I want you to be in it with me! Everyone needs to know about the sweet doctor who saved my life!” “I—I didn’t… it wasn’t exactly life threatening—I’m not a doctor,” Yuuri stammered making Victor smile wider. “Come on! Please?! This is actually… kind of big for me. I’m no good with hospitals. That’s why I want a commemorative photo! And it’ll let my fans know that I’m going to be ok since I’m in such capable hands.” Another commemorative photo? Yuuri gulped and tried not to convey how Victor’s words made his heart leap, and not in the good way. He thought he was imagining it before—thought his anxiety was feeding him nightmares, but could it be that Victor actually knew who he was? If he refused, that might raise questions. Besides… even if he was found out, taking a picture couldn’t harm or help him. He gave in. “O…kay. Just one.” Yuuri thought Victor looked too happy. The flames on him were pink, like the first time they had met. He stood next to Victor’s stretcher to get in frame. Victor leaned closer to Yuuri who tried to smile. Victor winked at the camera. “Say stitches!” Victor chimed which made Yuuri giggle as the camera clicked. “Yes! You look so cute!” Victor held the phone up for Yuuri to see making him blush. “What’s your Instagram? I’ll tag you.” “I…uh… don’t have one.” “What?! No way!” Yuuri shrugged apologetically. “Ah well,” he lamented. “I guess I’ll just tag the hospital.” Yuuri thought he was unnecessarily disappointed as he pouted and stuffed the phone back into his jeans pocket. He scrambled to push himself further up the stretcher and Yuuri helped him. He should transfer him to a room for the night if Victor was going to get any rest. Victor looked at him, but with less boyish excitement and more anxious worry. Interpreting Victor’s emotions was getting easier by the minute, even under all the glimmer and fire. He just wished he knew exactly what Victor was thinking so he could be certain that his identity was safe… “Mr. Katsuki… do you mind being my nurse tonight? I don’t really want to talk to the other staff members… I know it’s selfish but…” “No,” Yuuri said, “no, that’s fine, I don’t mind helping you. It looks like you’re about to burn through this bag already anyways.” He moved to replace the empty sack hanging over Victor with a new one. Yuuri supposed that he was still a bit scared, but he suspected that Victor was ashamed at how he had behaved. He had burned the scrubs on several nurses and doctors and caused a scene. Or maybe he heard the nurses bickering over who was going to watch him that night. He felt a pang of sympathy for Victor. “Thank you,” he said sounding relieved. “And… another thing.” “Yes?” “Do you mind… not coming behind the curtains for the next hour?” “Um… why?” Yuuri scrunched his eyebrows at Victor, concerned and confused. “I just… need a moment alone. Please.” “I’m sorry, but I can’t leave you alone for that long. Your body is burning through these fluids faster than a normal person’s body would. If I leave the IV in, it could push an air bubble into your veins. Trust me, you don’t want that.” Victor flinched at that explanation. “Can you take the IV out then?” “What’s wrong?” “Nothing.” He looked away. “I just need a moment. One hour.” Yuuri shook his head, completely befuddled and not wanting to delay Victor’s recovery for some mystery reason. But Yuuri thought Victor was beginning to look stressed again. “Fine… I guess… I’ll leave you alone, and I’ll be back. Don’t do anything that’s going to stress you out. Don’t get out of bed without asking for help, don’t… don’t do anything, ok?” Victor took a deep breath and nodded, relieved. “I’ll be here.” Yuuri unscrewed the IV tap from the needle and gave Victor a stern look—he laughed at that—and closed the curtains. Even from behind the curtains, Yuuri could tell the air around him had become cooler. Victor must have powered down. He wondered if it took a lot of energy for Victor to hide his appearance. If that was the case, then why didn’t he just wear a mask? He shrugged to himself as he sorted through a medicine cart, looking for a sleep aid. Victor would probably need it later that night. Dr. Chester jogged over to him. “Yuuri, there you are! I know I keep steam-rolling you, but can I ask for another favor?” Dr. Chester wiped his brow—he was really having a night. Yuuri nodded. “Do you mind watching Winter tonight? I don’t think he’ll want to see anyone but you right now so I’m thinking that’s the only way. I know it’s unfair because this isn’t even your department—” “Don’t worry about it. I already told him I’d help him.” “God bless you, Yuuri Katsuki.” He clasped Yuuri’s hand in both of his and bowed. “Let me know if you need something or if I need to sign off on anything.” “Yep,” Yuuri found what he was looking for and gave Dr. Chester a casual salute as the man jogged away.Whether Victor knew who he was or not, he was first and foremost Yuuri’s patient. He would take care of him until he was better. If Victor slapped a pair of nano-cuffs on him as soon as he got better, then at least he would be able to say “hi” to Minako. He’d figure out the rest later. * The nurse was so cute that Victor almost forgot he was in the hospital with a needle the size of a pencil stuck in his arm. He ached all over and he felt like he got hit by a truck (that was clearly metaphorical because Pyre was far worse than a truck; Victor was glad to see the AI squad drag him off an hour ago). He kind of hated Yuuri though… but that was the irrational part of him speaking, the part that told him Yuuri was evil for sticking him with a needle. But he trusted Yuuri. He thought the IV would be the end of him but—as much as hated to admit it—he was feeling stronger by the minute. Maybe it was actually the nurse that was making him feel stronger…the way he talked was calming, his touch was gentle, and Victor never felt safer. He was fairly certain they had met before, but he couldn’t quite remember where. He watched Yuuri out of the corner of his eye as he commented on the picture he took of them. It already had over three thousand likes. Yuuri had moved him to a more comfortable room that had a real door and a bed. The nurse turned on him, folding his arms and eyeing Victor’s phone scornfully. “You need to sleep,” he chided. “I’m not sleepy yet,” Victor hummed, commenting with hearts under a compliment one of his fans made about the nurse. “I don’t want to betray your trust, so I’ll be honest with you. You can either power down and go to sleep—I’ll take the IV out and wait outside—or I’ll give you something that’ll knock you out. Your choice.” “You would drug me?” Victor looked up from his phone and smiled at Yuuri. “This is a hospital, of course I’m going to drug you.” Victor laughed. “Fine, I’ll sleep,” he conceded, stuffing his phone away. Yuuri had that satisfied look again as he turned to fiddle with the IV bag. Victor turned away—the less he knew about what was going on with that bag the better. Yuuri left the room and came back in with a tray of food and put it in front of Victor. “Eat as much as you can, but try to finish the tea. It’ll help you relax,” he said. Yuuri folded his fingers together and stretched his arms over his head before heading for the door. Then, he remembered. “Now I remember you!” Yuuri actually tripped and caught himself by slamming his hands on the door. Victor asked if he was ok and Yuuri only stammered. He, Victor mused, had to be far more graceful than this. After all, Chris talked about Yuuri all the time. That’s how he knew him. Last month, his friend Chris had taken it upon himself to plan Victor’s birthday party coming up. He had shown Victor a picture of Yuuri and the other dancers in his class saying he had invited them too. Victor had not committed their faces to memory because he knew his friend was secretly trying to set him up. He wasn’t in the mood for that kind of trickery…at the time. Before, he wasn’t feeling up to the idea of a big party and had only agreed to let Chris plan it because resistance would have been worse. But now he had motivation. He really hoped Yuuri came... but even if he did, Yuuri wouldn’t know it was him. He would have to come as Victor, not Winter Torch. He pouted, but immediately felt silly for it—he had just met the nurse, so why was it a big deal? He eyed Yuuri’s back as the nurse fiddled with something in his pocket. “How do you know me?” Yuuri asked. “I… I can’t tell you.” “Why can’t you tell me?” Yuuri turned around then, worry creasing his features. “It’s a secret,” and he felt embarrassed for not being able to contain his grin. Yuuri gave him a funny look. “Why did you bring it up if you can’t tell me?” “I wasn’t really thinking. If I told you how I know you… it might be obvious who I am.” He was being reckless but he never met anyone less dangerous than the nurse, Yuuri Katsuki who raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms with a grin. “Do I know you, Mr. Torch? The real you?” “Not as well as I’d like you to,” he said, and smiled when Yuuri blushed and turned to leave, mumbling something about heroes and secrets. He made a mental note to tell Chris to be absolutely sure he invited Yuuri to his birthday party. * Even though Victor had agreed to sleep, Yuuri could tell he wasn’t truly sleeping. Sure, he was lying down with his eyes closed, but he was still powered up. The flames on Victor’s head were replaced with a dense eerie mist and the temperature around him dropped. Yuuri had half a mind to give Victor the sleep aid, but he only held off because, for whatever reason, the fluids had stopped disappearing as quickly as they had earlier. He suspected that Victor’s drop in body temperature was the cause. Since Victor wouldn’t burn through the fluids he needed, he would recover faster. Yuuri debated on which was more important—fluids or sleep—and decided on the former since he also didn’t want to betray Victor’s trust by knocking him out. He stared blankly at the heart monitor, watching the green lines spike. Victor knew him somehow… but it didn’t seem like he knew him as Red Specter. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have said anything; it was better to have the element of surprise when confronting villains, right? Victor wouldn’t have been so coy if he suspected Yuuri. That was a relief but still baffling. How many famous super powers did he know in real life? First Chris and now Victor. A lot of people possessed some sort of special ability and used those abilities in their careers. Yuuri worked with a lot of psychic types who could smell diseases, see through skin, and read emotions the way others read minds. Lots of fire fighters had water abilities, teachers had more than two eyes, zoologists could speak to animals, and so on. Abilities were not uncommon. “Super powers” were—those that were adept enough to use their abilities for heroics or villainy. They were rare because it was dangerous. That was really the only reason needed for the scarcity of super powers in the world. Villains and heroes alike ran the risk of harming themselves but they did it because they were good at what they did and because they had guts, plain as that. There were plenty of fire types in the world, but very few were as skilled at using their abilities as Pyre and Winter Torch which made them both super powers at opposite ends of the same spectrum. Yuuri didn’t think he knew that many skilled people. He didn’t count his professors back at the Grand Prix, because everyone knew Boss, Baker, Iron Angel, and Radio Head. They were house hold names like Mario or Michael Jackson. Sure, Phichit might be skilled, though he didn’t have anyone to compare him to. Yuuri supposed he was fast… he wasn’t quite sure if that time travelling story was true, but if it was, that was definitely super power class action. Mari would definitely fall into the super power category if she weren’t ill. He didn’t need comparison to know that. Minako was another one, but she was in prison, most likely biding her time before a break out. He was sure there were some pretty skilled fighters under Fujiwara, but he wouldn’t necessarily call them super powers, otherwise, the world would be in much more trouble than it was. Then there was Chris who was apparently Dick Cartier, of all people. And now, Victor. Victor, who somehow knew Yuuri in real life… knew him in a way that if he talked about it, Victor’s identity would be obvious. “Yuuri!” “Huh?” Yuuri jumped and looked down at his hands. He was holding several latex gloves, but he couldn’t remember why he had them. He looked up to see an ER nurse snapping his fingers in front of him, trying to get his attention. “Earth to Katsuki! You ok? Do you need to sit down?” Yuuri hastily stuffed the gloves back in their box and shook his head. “Your shift is almost up. What’s the plan for our hero?” “I think we can discharge him this afternoon,” Yuuri said, slowly coming to his senses. “I’ll talk to him about having a new nurse in the morning. I don’t think he’s actually asleep.” He glanced through the window of Victor’s room at the hero who was most likely taking a light cat nap. “All right. I don’t mind taking over for you. I’m a fire type too, so I can handle it.” “Sounds good, but you shouldn’t have to worry. He was just nervous and disoriented before. I’m sure he’s sorry about earlier.” “Good, because I’m not as nice as you. I will fight him.” Yuuri laughed, not realizing how exhausted he actually was until the nurse had mentioned the end of his shift. He crept back into Victor’s room and shook his shoulder gently. He opened his eyes immediately, the same eerie mist pouring out of his eyes. Yuuri explained that his shift was ending soon, that Victor would have a new nurse but would be discharged soon. Victor listened and even shook the ER nurse’s hand, but Yuuri couldn’t help but notice that somewhere beneath the suave smile and deep opal facets, there was a bit of disappointment.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
When Yuuri got home in the wee hours of the next morning, he found Victor Nikiforov’s stat sheet taped to his bathroom mirror. Phichit had used lipstick to draw hearts on the mirror around the picture. He sighed, but his heart betrayed him, hammering when he looked at it. He took it down and folded it up to stuff in his bedside table. He reluctantly pulled his scrubs off and walked in his boxers to the washing machine—he was exhausted, but he was too paranoid to risk bringing diseases from the hospital to his apartment. Dumping the pockets’ contents into his hand, he threw the offending garments in, and chased it with some detergent. The detergent, Yuuri was embarrassed to admit, was the same shade of blue as Victor’s eyes. The past few hours had been the most nerve wracking and still the best he had ever spent at Spring Gate General. Victor was more human than Yuuri had ever imagined. His heart ached for the hero’s fear of doctors—he wondered what happened to instill such a deep-seated sense of panic in him. As much as Victor appeared on social media and on the news, it was just now occurring to Yuuri that he didn’t actually know that much about the hero, even after reading his stat sheet. He never would have guessed that The Russian Punk, a teenager that specialized in grand theft auto, was related to Victor. And how was he related to Victor? Were they cousins? Brothers? And did Yuuri know Victor in real life? Victor said he knew Yuuri, but Yuuri definitely would’ve remembered him. He wished Victor had just told him so Yuuri could know. No. None of this mattered because, no matter who the real Victor was, he was still Winter Torch, a hero. It was Victor’s sworn duty to bring people like Red Specter, Yuuri, to justice, and Yuuri didn’t need justice right now. He wasn’t exactly sure what he needed, but Victor certainly wasn’t it. Yuuri didn’t realize he had drifted back into the bathroom until he was blinking warm water out of his eyes. He had started showering without realizing it. He groaned and rubbed fierce circles of shampoo into his head to clear his thoughts. He had been spacing out a lot lately. He finished up and wrapped a towel around his waist before stepping out to brush his teeth. “Are we out of Oreos?” “Fuck!” Yuuri almost choked on his toothbrush, coughing up toothpaste everywhere, when Phichit suddenly appeared. He was still wearing his suit and his carnival mask was pushed up on his head. He sat casually on Yuuri’s bathroom counter. “Can you knock?!” Phichit wrinkled his nose at him. “I knew you were decent.” “How would you know that?” Yuuri spat in the sink and wiped the toothpaste off his chest. “You always wrap up as soon as you step out of the shower. You’re like a robot when it comes to routine.” “How do you…” Yuuri narrowed his eyes at Phichit in disbelief. “That’s not the point either! Knock so I don’t die of shock whenever you want to talk to me.” “I like to keep you on your toes though.” He crossed his legs and turned to look at his own reflection. “Hey, where’s Victor?” “Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Yuuri grumbled, grabbing another towel to dry his hair. There was a click and a flash of light and Yuuri glared at Phichit, putting as much venom as he could muster into the look which only made his friend laugh. “Stop putting me on Instagram.” “But you’re so charismatic! If you want to be friends with more people than me and a phallic jewel thief, you need to put yourself out there.” Phichit beamed as he began working on the filter and tags. Yuuri turned to Phichit, in the mood to start unnecessary drama. “I ate the rest of the Oreos.” Phichit looked up from his phone. “What did you say?” “I was hungry so I ate t—aah!” Something sharp snapped him on his lower back. Yuuri saw Phichit holding a hand towel which he no doubt used at break neck speed. “There was more than half a pack left, Yuuri! You know those are my favorite!” Yuuri smirked at him making Phichit aim another hit. Yuuri jumped out of his reach and Phichit hopped off the counter ready to chase him when his phone pinged. He held up a finger and looked at it. Thinking he saw an opening, Yuuri lunged for the hand towel, but Phichit was a speedster after all, and evaded him easily as he scrolled through his phone. “AAAAHHHH!” Phichit screamed and dropped his phone and Yuuri jumped back. He scrambled to secure the towel around his waist and gave Phichit a startled look.
“What?!”
“Yuuri!” “Yeah! What?!” Phichit picked up the phone and shoved it in Yuuri’s face in a fraction of a second. Yuuri blinked and backed up to see it better. It was an Instagram picture of Yuuri beaming next to Winter Torch who was sitting up on his stretcher and winking. Yuuri didn’t usually like pictures of himself, but even he had to admit that this one was pretty flattering. He looked really happy, his smile genuine as if he had just heard the funniest joke, but he still couldn’t compare to an actual precious gem. You couldn’t even tell that Victor had been injured. He looked so vibrant and playful, and the pink flames on him were charming, complimenting his shimmering skin nicely. It had over four hundred thousand likes and it hadn’t even been a day since Victor was hospitalized. Yuuri grinned in spite of himself. “What is this?!” Phichit shrilled, probably breaking the sound barrier. “Oh, I… he came into the ER today and—” “Why didn’t you tell me?! Why don’t you tell me anything anymore?!” “You didn’t even give me a chance! You wanted to know about your stupid Oreos!” “Ok. Number one: Oreos aren’t stupid. And b, YOU TOOK A SELFIE WITH WINTER TORCH AND DIDN’T IMMEDIATELY TELL ME ABOUT IT!” “I—it was a busy night! He needed round the clock care!” “Oh my god… AAHH!” Phichit ran circles around Yuuri, making his hair fly up. He stopped suddenly in front of Yuuri again, who was dizzy from trying to keep up. When his vision was focused again, he saw Phichit ferociously typing. Yuuri narrowed his eyes at him and tried to look at his phone. Phichit yanked it away and kept typing. “What are you doing?” “I told you… you need an Instagram. But it’s a good thing I’m prepared…” “Excuse me? Prepared for what?” “Winter Torch mentioned in the tags that his sweet doctor didn’t have Insta and he really wanted to tag you… we’ll just have to fix that now, won’t we?” Phichit cackled evilly as Yuuri’s eyes grew in horror. “Phichit, no!” He grabbed pointlessly for the phone—with Phichit’s speed, it was like trying to snatch air. “I have just enough pictures… and… done. I sent you the login info, but if you delete it, I’ll just set up another one.” “Goddammit!” Yuuri tore out of the bathroom and went through the motions of downloading the app and opening up the profile Phichit had set up for him. He blanched when he saw that he already had over a hundred followers. His phone started vibrating like crazy with notifications so he turned them off. He swiped until he found Victor’s post. Scrolling down, he found Phichit’s comment revealing that he was the nurse in the picture’s best friend and that he would set up an account so Victor could tag him all he wanted. That had a shit ton of likes… There were mostly hearts and screams after that, even from Victor. Yuuri felt his face heat up. If he looked at it any longer, he thought he would explode, so he turned his phone off and shoved it under his pillow. Phichit appeared next to him and threw an arm around his still damp shoulder before mussing up his hair. “I’ll manage the account, so you don’t have to worry about it.” “Get off me, you animal!” Yuuri pushed Phichit who only smiled triumphantly before returning to his phone. “This is a god-tier account, Yuuri. I made sure to make you look like a celebrity.” Yuuri groaned and fell back on his bed. “When you’ve cooled down, take a look at it.” Yuuri could work ten night shifts in a row caring for Pyre, Victor, and a gem dragon at the same time and still never feel as tired as Phichit was making him feel at the moment. Yuuri’s phone rang and he picked it up without looking. “What?” he answered wearily.
“Your secret boyfriend is Winter Torch?!”
“No, Mari, I—” “Oh my god, way to go, Yuuri! You look so good in this picture! Is this afterglow I’m seeing?” Yuuri’s face was on fire. “NO! What is wrong with you?!” “Don’t doctors have some kind of code that prohibits them from sleeping with patients?” “You—I’m not a doctor! You know I’m a nurse!”
“Oh, so does that mean it’s ok for you to sleep with Winter? That’s pretty convenient.” “I did not sleep with him, Jesus! He needed stitches! Stop being so… ugh!” Yuuri was at a loss for words; Phichit was cackling again and Mari was laughing along too. “I know he needed stitches, Yuuri. I can read, you know. This profile Phichit set up for you actually makes you look half way human. I’m impressed. Some people might even find you kind of attractive.” “Ok bye.” “Does he know you’re a jewel thief or is that like, a kink for him?”
“Goodbye.”
“Kiss your boyfriend for me!” Yuuri hung up and threw his phone at Phichit who caught it without looking.Rolling his eyes and groaning like a teenager, he got up and went to the bathroom, locking the door. He dried off and threw on some pajamas before reemerging. When he saw Phichit was still sprawled out on his bed, he pointed firmly at the door. Phichit rolled his eyes and made a show of snuggling further into Yuuri’s bed. “This is what you get when you don’t tell your best friend about important milestones.” “I’m not speaking to you.” “It was bound to happen anyways. You needed an Instagram. You’ll thank me later.” “I shan’t.” He sat on the floor at the foot of his bed to prove a point. The whole thing was absurd and stupidly embarrassing. He had no need for an Instagram account but, like always, Phichit was interfering. He hid his face in his hands when he thought about how Victor must’ve looked when he found the account. Did he smile? Or did he think it was silly? Would he have showed his friends? Who were Victor’s friends? Yuuri looked up as a chilling thought struck him. “You need to be careful, Phichit.” “I’m not afraid of you, hot shot,” he said without hesitation. “You should be,” Yuuri shot back, pouncing up to slap Phichit’s stomach. He yelped in surprise. “But that’s not what I meant. You’re an information broker with criminal ties. And I’m an international jewel thief. You wiped us off the grid when we dropped out so do you think it’s really wise to be so active on social media? What if someone recognizes us?” “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about our criminal ties,” Phichit crowed, but Yuuri could tell there was a tinge of discomfort in his face. “I’ve only had this account for a year. I know what I’m doing. And besides, it’s been forever. Who do we know that knew us from The Grand Prix days and still wants to find us?” “How about our old professors?” “The least of our worries.” “I’m just saying you need to be careful. Phichit stood up then and straightened his tie. “I’m going to the store because a certain ungrateful someone ate the rest of my Oreos.” “I didn’t eat your Oreos, you dork. I lied.” Yuuri waved a dismissive hand at him. “Then where are they?!” “I’ll tell you where they are tomorrow after lunch if you eat something healthy.”
“What?”
“Your eating habits are trash! Oreos are not breakfast food!” “Yuuri. I’m trying so hard to be your best friend but—” his phone pinged again and, once again, he held up his finger as if Yuuri had been the one talking. He took a second or too longer this time and exhaled, shaking his head. Yuuri crossed his arms—he didn’t like that look. “Is something wrong?” “Honestly… I don’t know what to make of this.” He gave Yuuri his phone to read. It was an article from The Daily Eagle. Yuuri bit his lip as he scanned the picture of the bank he had robbed the night before. The office in the picture was absolutely wrecked; it must’ve been the one he fought Chris in. Even though Chris had returned some of the cabinets to their original position before Yuuri left, others were still strewn across the floor. The walls were marked up and there was some shattered glass. Yuuri scrolled to read the article. The headline stood out to him: International Jewel Thief Suspected in Bank Robbery. He furrowed his eyebrows at Phichit before reading.
Last night, at approximately 10:35pm, Gate Trust Bank on Moreland Avenue was robbed. The bank was found in disarray this morning, when the incident was reported by the bank’s manager. Inventory reports reveal that nearly 100,000 dollars’ worth of precious gems were missing from Gate Trust’s vaults including a ruby valued at over 16,000 dollars stored elsewhere in the bank.
The evidence left behind suggests that international jewel thief, Dick Cartier was involved. Dick Cartier’s method of operation consists of a single kiss mark which was found inside the vaults. However, experts are leaning towards the possibility that more than one thief was present at the time of the crime.
Police explained that Dick Cartier is known for leaving one kiss, not two. For this reason, authorities were baffled to find a second kiss on a small, personal safe that had been forced open. It is believed that Dick Cartier is ferrokinetic, having the ability to manipulate metal. It is unlikely that a thief with ferrokinetic abilities would leave evidence when they are capable of a clean get-away. Authorities think that there was no reason for the safe, which bore Dick Cartier’s mark, to be forced open if there wasn’t a second thief present. Furthermore, the bank’s facilities exhibited signs of a struggle, suggesting that if Dick Cartier was present at Gate Trust last night, he was not alone.
It is difficult for authorities to discern much more as all surveillance was disabled and replaced with a digital loop at the time of the crime which isn’t typical of Dick Cartier’s method of operation. Some believe, again, that Scavenger was involved judging by the state of the bank, but this theory is not popular, as it is known that Scavenger favors a method of operation that leaves more damage than what police were met with this morning. Some authorities guessed that the newer jewel thief, Red Specter, may have made an appearance (or lack thereof). The disappearance of the 16,000 dollar ruby suggests this much, but authorities cannot be sure without sufficient evidence.
Yuuri stopped reading. He looked at Phichit who merely shrugged. “It doesn’t really matter, does it?” he asked. “Sure, you left some evidence, but they don’t really know for sure if it was you or not.” “Why would Chris do that—leave another kiss mark?” Yuuri wondered. It seemed unnecessarily foolhardy to him. “Maybe he was trying to cover for you? It might’ve been pretty obvious that it was you who stole the ruby if he hadn’t. The article says police are guessing it’s you, but Chris’ kiss makes the evidence confusing. It leaves plenty of room for doubt where you’re concerned while still letting all fingers point back to Chris.” Phichit began to pace a bit, running his hands through his hair. “Maybe… this is his way of getting you to trust him.” “Should I?” “I don’t know. Do you trust the Chris you know in real life?” “I… I don’t even know him.” Yuuri sat down on the bed and tossed the phone back to Phichit who caught it. His friend hissed skeptically and shook his head. “I have a weird feeling about him. He singled you out to ask for a partnership, but why you? There are other thieves he could’ve asked. He might be trying to use you.” “You think so?” Yuuri’s heart sank at the thought. He wasn’t sure he wanted to work with Chris, but he still liked him—he didn’t like the idea of Chris having ill will against him, the idea of being his enemy. As far he knew, he didn’t have any enemies… not really. He was sure that there was no one out there who had it out for specifically Yuuri… besides Fujiwara. He doubted Chris worked for Fujiwara, but what did he know? “I’m not sure,” Phichit admitted, “but what’s the point in taking chances? There are too many grey areas to work with where he’s concerned. It’s best to steer clear of him.” Yuuri nodded, not sure if he was convinced but, since he didn’t have a counterargument, he let it rest. He climbed on to his bed and rolled on his back. So much had happened and his mind was just barely keeping up. “I’m so tired.” “Get some sleep then. I have another job for you if you want it.” “Of course I do,” he yawned as he cocooned himself in the blankets. “Figured. I’ll give you the details tomorrow.” *A few days after Victor was hospitalized, he returned to apologize and thank all the doctors and nurses who tried to help him. As much talk as the Spring Gate General staff made about the hero, they were instantly endeared, assuring him that he had nothing to worry about and all was forgiven. They fawned over him and shook his hand. As thanks, Victor made ice figurines appear in the palm of his hand for the nurses and doctors to have. He made puppies, unicorns, sphynxes and even dragons materialize upon request. Feeling festive, he even made it snow in the children’s ward. Yuuri was careful to avoid Victor during his gift giving visit. He couldn’t think straight when the hero was around, and even though he really wanted an ice figurine too—he heard that they didn’t melt—he couldn’t trust himself to not somehow reveal that he was Red Specter. Some of the nurses said that Victor was looking for him, asking around. Yuuri’s heart slammed in his chest when he heard this, torn between flattered and panicked. He managed to ghost about the halls as he worked, not staying in one place for too long or talking to any of the staff members in case someone tipped Victor off. At the end of his shift, a nurse cornered him in the locker room. It was Noor, the fire type who took over for him in the ER when his shift with Victor was over. “Where have you been all night? Winter Torch was here looking for you!” “I’ve been around…” Yuuri said, not wanting to meet his look. “Sucks that you missed him. He left something for you though.” Yuuri turned to Noor who was holding out an intricately crafted rose of ice. Yuuri gazed with amazement and shock as he took it. It really was delicately made with leaves the same thickness as the real thing, thorns, and soft petals. If it weren’t completely translucent, he would swear it was real. He turned it over in his hands and lifted it up to the light to find that there was hair-thin writing on the underside of a petal. Thank you, Yuuri. His face exploded with heat as for the rest of the day, he completely forgot everything else in the world. * Yuuri’s love struck amnesia didn’t last long. Within the next few days, he managed to steal well over two hundred thousand dollars’ worth of rubies. In a rare moment of self-reflection, he guessed that by now he had stolen enough to support a small nation for a year (though he wasn’t the best at math). It was a lot though. Too much for one person. He wondered why Fujiwara needed so much money, especially since Yuuri had been stealing for him since he was seventeen years old. Maybe Fujiwara hated the fact that Yuuri’s parents defected so much that he would never let Yuuri leave this life. Even so, Yuuri stretched the limits of his mind to imagine what Fujiwara could be doing with it all. Shark fin soup, elk milk, foreign cars and silk made from… peacock feathers? The money was exorbitant so why shouldn’t Fujiwara’s tastes be the same? That still didn’t sound right though, as much as Yuuri liked to imagine the demon picking out exotic fur mantles. He had seen Fujiwara before, seen his home. By crime boss standards, both were understated. The wealth Yuuri had made for him wasn’t funding his lifestyle, and Yuuri doubted that it went to charity. Yuuri figured only he and Phichit were weird like that. It was strange. Fujiwara could really make him do anything if he wanted to, but he chose money. Suddenly, what Phichit had been telling Yuuri about Fujiwara eventually asking him to do something that he simply couldn’t began to make his skin crawl. Yuuri couldn’t think of a way to refuse Fujiwara if he asked him to hurt someone, or even kill. He couldn’t do it without hurting his family either. As much as he tried to think of some kind of compromise, some way that he could obey Fujiwara without sacrificing his morals, he knew it was impossible. But he knew the time was coming. He just had a feeling, He had to speak to Fujiwara and soon. * Victor stretched out on the couch in the breakroom and tossed the article about Red Specter onto the coffee table. He sighed as he anxiously rubbed the spot where his stitches had been (Yuuri was right—it didn’t leave a scar, but it still made Victor squeamish to think about). The thief had done it again. And again, and again. He’d been pretty busy, Victor thought, and for some reason it was all he could think about. There was something about Red Specter that was dangerously endearing, even without having met him. He wanted to catch him, but mostly because he wanted to talk to him, figure him out. He jumped when he heard Yakov come into the breakroom to fix his afternoon cup of coffee. He snatched the article up and waved it at him. “Now will you let me go after Red Specter?” “Why should I?” Yakov asked, lazily stirring his cup. Victor looked at him in disbelief. “He’s stolen two hundred thousand dollars’ worth of rubies in a matter of days! Some of that he stole from people in Spring Gate!” “I still don’t see why you specifically need to go after him, Victor.” Victor frowned at him and crossed his arms defiantly as Yakov rounded the couch to turn the news on. “With villains like Pyre and Tim Fair running wild, I’d say you already have your hands full. I need you to focus your skills on the important things, and right now, Red Specter doesn’t fall into that category.” “So we’re just going to let him go?” “I never said that. Someone else will handle it. I’ll discuss logistics with Iron Angel and Baker. More than likely we’ll predict his next target, and then have a team wait for him to come for it.” “Why send a team? I’m more than willing to go!” Victor felt like he was borderline begging which he didn’t like, but he couldn’t help it. This thief seemed different—there was something about him Victor wanted to figure out. “I just think you’re wasting your resources.” “I see no reason to kill a fly with a nuclear bomb,” Yakov said easily as he shrugged. The younger heroes had begun to trickle into the breakroom; it must’ve been near the end of the morning shift. Some trudged into the kitchenette while others simply flopped onto the floor. One hero in pink and yellow—the same one that chased who Victor now suspects was Red Specter into the woods—fell onto the couch, completely spent. Victor forgot their name. Brick? Birch? “Hey, Robin,” Yakov said. Oh. Not even close. “Yes, sir!” They jumped to their feet. “I want you to lead a small team of two to three other heroes and bring in Red Specter. We’ll have to arrange a danger profile with stats, crimes, and a rating before you do anything. It’ll be tiresome since there’s no physical or photographic evidence of him but we’ll have it. I’ll have details for you later on in the week, so just be ready.” “O-of course, sir!” Even though they looked thoroughly drained just a second ago, they now seemed to be brimming with pent up energy, bouncing on their toes and smiling eagerly. Victor grinned in spite of himself because even though he felt slighted for not being put on Red Specter’s case, he was glad the young hero was getting some experience. Recognizing his defeat, he slumped into the kitchenette for something to distract himself. Two heroes were playing rock-paper-scissors for the last bagel and he dodged them to open the fridge. If he was being half way rational, he would forget about Red Specter. He would remember that at the end of the day, Red was a criminal and nothing else. Agni had said that the thief was a product of his circumstances, that he wasn’t perfect but still… what? Still human? Victor knew that, even Pyre was human. A despicable, vile, sadistic, evil human. But still. He wanted to know what kind of person Red was—what kind of person would steal millions of dollars’ worth of only rubies but also save the lives of three people he didn’t know. The three that Victor brought in that day from the sewers had recounted the entire ordeal to Yakov. They had been in hiding from someone named Kazuya, a doctor that Victor knew all too well. But he heard Kazuya had died a long time ago. There wasn’t even a record of him left, though that wasn’t very surprising considering Kazuya’s criminal ties. What didn’t make sense was why they were hiding in Spring Gate… Kazuya lived in Japan. Those three hadn’t said much else, but it was clear they had no clue who Red was; the thief just happened to appear in the sewers and ended up saving them. Victor didn’t know a single criminal or villain—not even Chris—who would’ve stayed to ensure the safety of those people. He knew some heroes who would’ve at least ran for help instead of staying to fight it off alone. If Victor didn’t have the powers that he had… or if it was dawn or dusk instead of night or day, he was positive he would’ve run from the gem dragon. He shuddered to think about the alternative. He mindlessly pulled an ice coffee out of the fridge and sipped it as he thought about who Red could be. He was trying to be patient until the next time Agni contacted him, but he didn’t like waiting. He wondered what the hold-up was. He hadn’t told Yakov about Agni yet… but he didn’t need to know. Not yet. He leaned against the counter behind him and took out his phone. Instagram popped up as soon as he unlocked it and he began, for the fourth time that day, to scroll through Yuuri Katsuki’s photos, trying to push Red Specter out of his mind.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Phichit was afraid that Victor would get bored waiting for another contact, but it couldn’t be helped. He was running out of time, but he still couldn’t risk Yuuri getting hurt. He needed to handle this situation as carefully as possible since he wouldn’t be around to clean up any messes that occurred. There were actually a few reasons why he hadn’t called Victor, besides the fact that constant contact was dangerous and could get him found out by Boss or another hero. For one thing, Yuuri had his nursing job, and another thing, if he immediately let Victor loose on Yuuri without careful planning and communication, things could go south very quickly. Yuuri was trained to steal and defend himself. Victor was trained to subdue people like Yuuri. The stronger villains that got into fights with Victor sometimes didn’t come out looking too pretty either. He couldn’t let that deter him though. He had dragged his feet for long enough. * Yuuri woke up to find a very large cup of coffee on the kitchen table. He moaned his appreciation as he took monster gulps of it and thought about how he owed Phichit his soul. He had been working three times as much as he was used to. For some reason, he felt spurred on by the Lam job, by the prospect of ending everything once and for all. But that meant that he wasn’t taking breaks between his civilian job and criminal job… Needless to say, he was exhausted. Last week was a ruby week and this week was a nurse week. He finished off the coffee and tried not to think about the rose of ice that waited for him in his locker at work. Thinking about Victor in any capacity was dangerous. Yuuri did a few stretches and used his door frame to complete a couple sets of chin ups (he kept running into other thieves so it was high time he got back in fighting shape) before hitting the showers and jumping into his scrubs. He locked the door to his apartment and turned around to a pair of large brown eyes. He jumped and his back slammed against his door. “おはよう,” his neighbor, Minami trilled. The mingled sound of fear and relief Yuuri made was not human. “Well, it’s not really morning anymore, is it? I guess it’s your morning since you work nights! You’re always so busy! You work so hard! Hey, I was thinking of becoming a nurse too!” “I, uh… that’s great… Minami,” Yuuri muttered, still coming down from being startled. This was a regular thing, the neighbor’s son greeting him outside of his apartment before work, but for some reason, he never got used to it. So many things were happening in his life that this little consistency always came as a surprise. It was unnerving really, because it made it difficult to be inconspicuous with a star-struck teenager ogling you every time you set foot outside your door. He guess he understood it. Maybe. Minami was an immigrant too, and probably was ecstatic to find that his neighbor came to Spring Gate around the same time he did and even spoke the same language as him. He tried to remember what he was like when he was nineteen and was forcibly reminded of the time Minako made him shove his hand in a bear carcass for a seven million dollar necklace it swallowed. Nah. He and Minami were nothing alike. He had begun walking to the elevator, aware that he had a chatty shadow, but not able to bring himself to care. His thoughts strayed back to his mentor, Minako, who was now in prison. He wasn’t sure how long Minako planned to stay there because it wasn’t like any normal prison could hold her if she really wanted to break out. It was clear the authorities didn’t know that, otherwise they would’ve locked her up on Ares Island along with Pyre and the other dangerous, showy villains. Maybe she was relieved to finally stop stealing, even though she did it for herself, unlike Yuuri who did it for Fujiwara. He still couldn’t imagine getting put away the way she got put away. He didn’t care how many diamonds Minako stole. Something didn’t feel right about her being caught while she was saving an innocent life. When they put the nano-cuffs on her, she didn’t even fight it. Yuuri definitely would’ve fought… but then again, he had a reason to. Maybe Minako thought it was worth it? “So… anything?” “What?” Yuuri blinked down at Minami who looked shiftier than usual. He was also suddenly aware that they were in the parking garage. “Do you have anything planned?” “Planned?” He said dimly. “For your birthday! It’s coming up isn’t it?” “Oh! Uh… I honestly haven’t thought about it,” Yuuri said truthfully. He had completely forgotten about his birthday. “I think my friend might be planning something at a bar or something… we usually go out drinking.” Minami nodded, his shoulders slumping. Minami was nineteen and couldn’t drink yet. Phichit always made a big deal out of his birthday, inviting a bunch of people Yuuri didn’t know and letting Yuuri get drunk. He wasn’t in the mood for that this year. He smiled at Minami who actually looked shocked. “Minami, why don’t you come over for my birthday?” He asked, wondering if he would regret it as Minami’s face lit up like a lightbulb. “I’m not in the mood for a big party this year so we can hang out with my friend, Phichit, and play some videogames. That might not be your idea of fun but—” “No! I—that—that sounds excellent! Can I really come?!” “Uh, why not?” Yuuri shrugged, feeling embarrassed by how happy Minami was about that simple invitation. He looked pointedly away from Minami’s beaming face as he fiddled with his keys. When he mounted his motorcycle, the teen was still bouncing happily beside him. Yuuri smiled awkwardly at him and fastened his helmet on. “I really wanted to surprise you with a present but I really want to get you something you like but then that wouldn’t be a surprise so I want to ask you what you like but then that still wouldn’t be a surprise even though I have a pretty good idea of what you like but can you please tell me what you like?” He rambled, giving Yuuri whiplash as he tried to keep up. “Minami, you really don’t have to—” “I want to—” “Save your money, Minami. You’re in college,” Yuuri said firmly. He started the motorcycle, making Minami jump back as the bike purred to life. “Ok! I’ll make you something then!” “Minami…” “You can’t change my mind, I already know what I’m going to make!” He started bouncing again and scampered off to the elevator before Yuuri could properly protest. Speeding down the highway, he thought about what would be worse: a huge party filled with people he didn’t really know watching him get black-out drunk, or hanging out with Minami, who was like the energizer bunny hopped up on Red Bull. The week came and went and he still hadn’t found an answer to that question. He was still thinking about it while he deftly slipped through the defenses of an underground bunker. “Phi—uh—Agni,” he stammered into the comm link. He was trying to get used to calling Phichit by his work name while on the job. Just in case. “I invited our neighbor over for my birthday coming up.” “Which neighbor? Not the angry dad?” “No, the one across from us.” “Shame. Angry dad is hot. That’s really sweet though. He really loves you. It’s kind of cute. You’re his Winter Torch.” “Aagh.” “Wait, how old is he? Can he drink?” “He’s… nineteen.” “Ah, Yuuri! He’s not legal! We can’t bring him with us!” “It’s funny that you, a criminal info broker, is telling me, a criminal of the thief variety that something isn’t legal. And we don’t have to go out. We can stay in and—” “That was your plan all along wasn’t it?” “No,” he lied. “Fine. It’s your birthday,” Phichit said and Yuuri could hear him pouting on the line. “You can do what you like. You just always seem so drained around him.” “I—that’s not true… I like him.” “Yep,” Phichit said. Yuuri pursed his lips as he made his way down a narrow passageway. “He’s got more energy than a cheetah on speed.” “A cheetah on speed after having a breakfast of froot-loops and seven-up. Sweet kid though.” “Very sweet. I almost feel guilty that I can’t match his energy.” “Hey, stop. Something’s up.” Yuuri froze in place. Adrenaline made his hearing spike. He looked around, expecting something to jump out of the walls, but it seemed he was alone. He waited for Phichit. “You’ve got company,” he said. “Another thief? Again?” “No…” Yuuri scrunched his eyebrows, confused. “What then?” “Heroes.” * Even though this is what Phichit had hoped for, watching it happen made his situation very real. Setting Yuuri up. Planning his next call with Victor. The future was catching up with him. * “Uh… do I know any of them?” Yuuri whispered. Heroes. He probably couldn’t handle more than one top hero, but if they were rookies, that was another story completely. It would be his first time fighting one, but the formidable heroes are usually the ones that showed up on TV. If Yuuri hadn’t heard of them before, it was likely that he had a chance. “I can’t tell. But there’s four of them.” “Really? Four?” If there were that many, Yuuri thought as he slinked carefully closer to the end of a hallway, then they couldn’t be that great. “It’s like they expected me to come.” “Of course they did,” Phichit said. “You’re making bigger waves than usual and collectors are getting pretty pissed off. They had to respond somehow.” “I don’t even have a danger profile yet.” Phichit responded to that with a noncommittal sound and Yuuri could imagine him shrugging with disinterest. Something tingled in his stomach and he thought he must be going crazy because it felt like excitement. After turning a narrow corner, the floor yielded to a stair case in a sharp descent to a short passageway with a low, earthy ceiling. A heavily armed door lay in front of him, and he knew the heroes must be waiting for him inside. He found that he already had a plan. He wasn’t even nervous, though his skin tingled and he felt hot. A smile grew on his face and he felt himself float out of his body a bit, as if he were watching himself from above.
Stop it. He scolded himself because he absolutely refused to use his power. He had subconsciously welcomed it, he realized when it became apparent how hazy he felt. He would be in control this time, like always. In and out. And there was no need for the element of surprise, was there? He kicked the metal door, leaving a foot-shaped dent in the center. He kicked three more times and the thing flew off its hinges. Someone shouted something but before even Yuuri could get a good look at who he was up against, he threw several smoke screens into the room. Activating the enhanced vision function in his mask, he tumbled forward, keeping low to the ground. “Nobody move!” Somebody shouted. They sounded young. “He’ll come to us!” Well. They weren’t wrong. Yuuri saw the four take defensive stances in front of a huge mechanical looking block in the ground which he knew the ruby was in. They closed in tight formation around it and Yuuri thought he was lucky. They were making it easy for him. His vision through the mask was red, but grew pink as a bright light flooded the room. The hero closest to him—he recognized them as the rookie that followed him in the woods that one time—was holding up glowing hands though they were still squinting and swiveling their head. Yuuri didn’t hesitate. He grabbed their wrist and tossed them screaming through the door behind him. One of the heroes jumped and snatched wildly in front of them for Yuuri who merely stepped aside. “What was that?! Spotlight, where are you?!” A hero with butterfly wings turned anxiously around. Another hero reached out to the space where Spotlight was and touched Yuuri making them leap. “Who was that?!” Before they could stumble too far out of reach, Yuuri grabbed their arm and yanked them into the butterfly hero. He procured some rope from his utility belt and tied their wrists together before they started swinging at him. The last hero jumped at him from a corner and narrowly missed Yuuri. He was agile, Yuuri thought, but there was no way he could see through a smoke screen this thick without an ability. This hero must’ve jumped at the sounds Yuuri was making. Smart. He must have a slightly cooler head than the others, Yuuri pondered as he slid easily away from a punch the hero threw blindly at him. He moved to the metal box facing the heroes in front of him so none of them could sneak up on him from behind. There was a single keyhole in the face of the box and Yuuri slid a long metal tool into it to pick it. The hero called Spotlight had sprinted back into the room, but Yuuri only glanced at them as he continued working on the lock. “88! Flap your wings!” They shouted. The butterfly hero turned around, dragging the other hero with her as she frantically flapped her wings. The smoke around them swirled and began to clear, but it was too late. The box clanked and rattled as a panel retracted on the top. A smaller metal case rose from the opening and a handle snapped up for Yuuri to grab. Still tethered to the hero called 88, one of them let out an ear-splitting tiger roar which only made Yuuri hesitate because it startled him so much. The hero who jumped at him grabbed his shoulder and he ducked away to the door. It was almost clear enough to see, especially with Spotlight’s glowing hands and the hero kicked out a leg to trip Yuuri. He avoided falling easily by flipping one handed out the door before sprinting away up the stone stairs. He whispered into his comm link. “Erase the footage for me, will ya?” “That was fast,” Phichit said. * Yuuri had to extract the ruby from the metal case in the neighboring woods before going back home. He ditched the case in a hollow tree, stashed the ruby in his belt, and hopped on his bike. He was back home in a few hours with pizza, topped with all of Phichit’s favorite toppings (seven different types of cheese). He felt tired but satisfied as he dropped the pizza on the counter and slouched to his room to change into pajamas. Phichit must not be home, he thought, because his friend usually called out to him when he came through the door. He was surprised however to see Phichit eyeing the pizza in the kitchen. Yuuri smiled at him. “That’s a thank you for the coffee this morning. And everything else really,” he said. “Thank you? You don’t… you don’t need to thank me… coffee?” “Yeah, the coffee you got me,” Yuuri was confused by the blank look on Phichit’s face. “I was completely beat when I got up but that really helped. You got me one last week too but I didn’t get the chance to actually thank you for it.” “Uh… last week…” Phichit scratched his head and Yuuri gave him an amused look as he took plates out of a cabinet. “You don’t remember doing that?” “I mean I do at least a thousand things before breakfast, Yuuri. I’m bound to forget one of them. You’re welcome, I guess.” He took a slice and bit into it. Yuuri laughed and shrugged. “Okay then. Well, can I thank you for helping me and being the best friend a thief could have?” Yuuri lifted him up in a hug from behind. Phichit almost dropped his pizza in shock but laughed. “Stop it!” “But you’re the best!” “Yes, but stop!” Yuuri put him down and gave him a quizzical look. “You never turn down praise, even if you’re joking. Are you ok?” “Of course.” Yuuri’s eyebrows furrowed at that as Phichit piled more slices on his plate and zoomed to the couch. He fixed his own plate and plopped down on the couch next to Phichit. Phichit always told him what was going on with time… After watching two movies on Netflix, Yuuri decided he couldn’t wait much longer. He turned to him, fiddling anxiously with the pillow in his lap. “I know you’re not telling me everything,” he said, hesitant. Phichit didn’t look up as he scrolled through titles for something else to watch, but Yuuri thought he looked tense. “What do you mean?” “I can tell there’s something wrong. Can you… please tell me what’s going on?” Phichit bit his lip and tapped the remote on his thigh at a nervous tempo. “There’s nothing wrong,” he said. “I hope you know that’s not convincing.” “Yeah…” Yuuri looked down, embarrassed for reasons he couldn’t explain, and decided to turn back to the TV. He didn’t want to force Phichit to talk if he didn’t want to, especially since it was possible he was just imagining things. But his friend hadn’t chosen another movie to watch. He wasn’t even scrolling through titles. Just tapping the remote on his thigh. Yuuri glanced at him out of the corner of his eye but pretended not to notice. He got up to take their plates to the sink instead. When he got back, Phichit had set the remote on the coffee table and turned reluctantly to face him. “I’m just worried,” he said. Yuuri should’ve been glad that Phichit had finally said something, but he wasn’t good at these things. He was afraid he would say the wrong thing to Phichit instead of comforting him. “Uh… worried about what?” “Just… everything,” he said with a huff. “I know I seemed confident about moving to Spring Gate despite the risks but you meeting those heroes today… it kind of freaked me out.” Yuuri sighed, somewhat relieved. “You don’t have to worry about that. Those guys were no problem. It was the easiest encounter I had all month. Heroes, especially rookies, don’t fight to maim unlike other thieves. And you really helped me with that heads up.” “That’s not…” he seemed to be struggling with his words which was rare for Phichit. He tilted his head back and screwed his eyes tight as if searching for answers somewhere deep, deep in his mind. “It’s not what happened today. It’s what will happen.” “And what’s going to happen?” “I don’t know. That’s the problem. I don’t know what’s going to happen to you next. And I definitely don’t know if I’ll be able to help you. You could get hurt or worse and all for something so stupid. For something that’s not even your fault. I’m doing the best I can to help you, but it just doesn’t seem like enough.” He opened his eyes and a thin tear streaked down his face. “I hate Fujiwara,” he whispered. Yuuri immediately pulled Phichit into a hug. Phichit laughed into Yuuri’s shirt but didn’t fight it this time. “I can’t tell you not to worry about me because that wouldn’t be fair. I worry about you all the time. But I can tell you that I can take care of myself. And that I trust you. You can do anything and you always have my back. We make a good team so I think we’ll be ok.” “Yeah. เราเกิดมาคู่กัน.” “Phichit, we’re having a moment here so can you please stop talking about how you want to suck my nips,” Yuuri teased and Phichit cackled. He sat up and hastily wiped his tears on the neck of his shirt. “Ugh. I hate crying,” he grumbled as he rubbed his eyes until the lids were pink. Yuuri hummed at that and handed him some pizza napkins which Phichit thanked him for. “If all else fails, and I find I’m in a classic damsel in distress situation, you can always zoom to where I’m at. You’re the fastest person I know.” Phichit scoffed, but still seemed slightly pleased. “How many speedsters do you know?” “I… uh.” Yuuri trailed off, because when he thought about it, there weren’t that many. Phichit cleared his throat and picked up the remote from the table to scroll through more titles. “You know, everyone talks about speedsters, because they’re obviously real, but… where are they?” “What are you talking about?” “I mean, have you met any other speedsters before? Like at the Grand Prix, or even in real life?” “Of course.” “I haven’t. And that’s a pretty amazing power, don’t you think? You’d think there’d be a famous super powered speedster out there by now, villain or super hero. But I never see them on the news or anything. Not even in civilian jobs. A speedster nurse would be something else…” Yuuri said dreamily, thinking about how many patients he could get through in a day if he had Phichit’s power. He shook his head and looked at his friend who was still looking at the TV. “Where are your speedy pals at?” “I don’t know, Yuuri… out there.” “False.” “On an island all by themselves, then? I can call them, if you want them to fill you in on their shenanigans. I have them all on speed dial.” “Really?” “No.” “That seems like a waste… to not have speedsters on speed dial.” “I don’t know what to tell you. Maybe we keep missing each other, zooming past each other in opposite directions.” “What about that speedster you met when you accidentally travelled back in time? What was his name?” “Barry Allen.” “Barry Allen… like DC’s Flash, Barry Allen? Wait…you don’t remember the guy’s name, do you?!” “I was a kid when it happened!” “You were twelve!” “I had a lot going on!”
“You were twelve!”
“Yuuri, I already told you I can’t talk about the details of my time leap excursion. It’s dangerous stuff,” he said dismissively as he gave up and turned the TV off. “I’m starting to think that story wasn’t even real,” Yuuri said and Phichit shrugged. “What tipped you off?” Yuuri pursed his lips. It was true that some powers were incredibly unique, like Victor’s. Most people had either water or fire abilities, ice or light, but Victor, for some reason, possessed an entire spectrum of power. But there were abilities that ought to be incredibly common. Speedster abilities seemed to fit into that category. He had read briefly about speedsters in his Grand Prix textbooks. People would talk about their speedster relatives in passing… but it seemed as if they didn’t quite… exist the way others did. But that was silly. Phichit was right here in front of him. It was just that he had never met another speedster besides Phichit. Or maybe it was just that Phichit was the only speedster that mattered to him. Even though his friend was being shifty. He was still the best. He grinned and threw his pillow at Phichit’s head who only looked at him with befuddlement. “Nerd,” he said as an answer. * Before turning in for the night, Phichit surprised Yuuri with over two million dollars. Yuuri gawked at it and tried to rake his memories for any rubies he forgot about. “What’s this for?” “A pound of flesh.” “Excuse me?” “Remember that sack of grossness you pulled out of that gem dragon? I sold it.” Yuuri’s jaw dropped and Phichit laughed. “What?” “You didn’t think I was gonna let you come out of that fight empty handed, did you? And don’t, worry—your buyer doesn’t know Agni’s Cat got those guts. Or Red Specter or… whatever you’re calling yourself. You won’t have anyone demanding gem dragon hearts in the future. I just told him it fell off the truck.” “Oh my god.” Yuuri looked at the stacks in the brown paper bag with amazement. “You’re incredible.” “Not really,” Phichit shrugged and scratched his head. Yuuri looked at him—he was refusing compliments again, but he didn’t want to pry. He smiled and bid his friend good night before retreating to his room. He set the bag of money aside and collapsed on to his bed. It was very possible that he was reading too much into Phichit’s behavior, but he was still concerned. Nothing good could come out of him staying up late thinking about it though. Pulling his phone out and snuggling deep into the covers, he bit his lip guiltily as he realized that for the first time in forever, he had forgotten to call his sister.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“Yuuri, how could you? I could’ve died and you never would’ve known.” “I—what? Are you ok? Did something—” “I’m joking,” Mari cut Yuuri off and he sucked his teeth. He had sprung of the bed in alarm but flopped back down. It was the night after he had realized he had forgotten to call, but he had only been talking to his sister for ten seconds and he was already regretting it. “Why would you say something like that then?” “To prove a point. You didn’t call me and I still lived to tell the tale. In fact, I’m better than ever, so you should actually forget about me more often.” “What are you talking about?” Yuuri felt he had aged sixty years as he dragged his hand down his face. “I’m serious. I’m being discharged in a week. I still have to go in for regular appointments but—” “YOU’RE BEING DISCHARGED?!” “Yes, I—” “Oh my god, Mari, that’s amazing! Are you… are you…” He was struggling for words as shock, happiness, and disbelief flooded him. Mari had been ill for ages because of whatever ability one of Fujiwara’s men did to her. The last time she wasn’t hospitalized, Yuuri had just started school at the Grand Prix. “I’m not exactly cured, if that’s what you’re wondering. But I can get by the way I am.” “The way you are? What does that mean? Are you… in pain?” “Well, yeah but some people live with pain every day. Our lives are still worth living even if they’re different.” “Mari…” Yuuri didn’t like the sound of that. Couldn’t the doctor’s find out how to help her completely? “Don’t take that tone with me. I don’t want to spend the rest of my days in a hospital bed. If I can take care of myself, which apparently my doctor thinks I can, then I’m getting out of here. Which means you no longer have a good excuse to not have a life. Speaking of, there are only two reasons why you would’ve forgotten to call me: you finally got a life or something bad happened. Which is it?” “Uh,” he was thrown off by the sudden change in conversation, “I guess I’ve just been busy…” he took out the card Chris had given him and flipped it absentmindedly between his fingers. “So you got a life then. Is that life’s name…Winter Torch?” “As soon as you get out of the hospital, I’m putting you back in.” “Rude. What have you been busy with?” “Same old same old. Just more of it, I guess.” “Hmmm.” Yuuri didn’t know what to make of the silence that followed. There was no point in telling her how difficult stealing was becoming because it would just give her more ammunition to bully him into stopping his criminal activities. “You know, Yuuri,” she began slowly, “I’m getting out of here in just one week. That means, if I really want to, I can come and smack you in a matter of minutes.” “Sounds exhilarating.” “Really. If you need me, just let me know. I’ll be there.” “Thanks, sis.” They talked a bit more about this and that. It had only been a few hours since Mari had gotten the news and their parents were already planning a welcome home party for her. Yuuri could practically taste his mother’s katsudon. Vicchan, a toy poodle his family got when he was still at the Grand Prix, was getting big and kept stealing pork buns from the kitchen. He told her about how he was concerned for Phichit and then vented about how Phichit suggested that he ask heroes for help with his Fujiwara situation. He shouldn’t have been surprised that Mari agreed—you can’t do everything yourself, dum-dum—but he still felt it was the height of betrayal for Mari to not take his sibling’s side. They said good bye to each other and Yuuri plugged his phone up for the night. He tossed Chris’ card on the nightstand—he still couldn’t figure out if he should trust him, but that was for another night to think about. Sectioning off that day’s spoils, he thought about his sister finally being able to go home, finally being able to live her life again. He got in bed and found that his chest felt hollow. It took hours of restlessness for him to realize it wasn’t sadness that was filling him, but homesickness. * Yuuri was in his own room, shouting every other sentence— probably talking to Mari. Phichit thought about how Yuuri was only ever animated with him or his sister. He was a bit shy around others, not quite willing to open up because he wasn’t sure how. Part of the problem was that Yuuri, Phichit thought, had let his situation consume his life. How do you open up to new, normal people when most of your life is a never ending Ocean’s Eleven movie? Phichit didn’t know why he was special to Yuuri, but he was glad Yuuri became his friend. When he was a kid, most of his classmates at the Grand Prix weren’t impressed with “the showoff”. Others were just irritated—either by how fast he talked (he couldn’t help it at the time) or by how easy classes were for him because of his speed. They didn’t say it to his face but Phichit could tell he wasn’t welcome. Yuuri didn’t seem to care though. It’s not that Yuuri changed himself to accommodate Phichit. He moved at his own pace and whenever he caught up to Phichit, he was satisfied, happy to be by his side. He never made Phichit feel out of place. He made Phichit feel normal, which he guessed was ironic. He was always glad to have such a special gift, always happy to be special, but he still wanted to be like other kids who had friends. Yuuri gave that to him. That’s all Phichit needed. Because, at a certain point, he was glad to be just normal, just a kid with a friend. He had always been one to push himself to become stronger, but that’s how he almost damaged his timeline beyond repair. He wasn’t completely to blame though, as he was only twelve. When children find out they can walk, they want to know how far they can go. When they learn they can talk, they want to learn as much as possible. When some learn they can fly, they soar until they pierce the atmosphere which, of course, poses some medical concerns (sky patrollers monitor the skies for falling children affected by altitude sickness). People begin testing their limits at a young age and Phichit was no different. Attending a “normal” school for most of his life was more than boring. It made him anxious. He had so much pent up energy that he felt like a cheetah with an elephant on his back. When his parents enrolled him in the Grand Prix Academy, he was finally free. So he ran. When he passed the world by, his heart beating in his chest, his skin tingling with excitement, he felt fulfilled knowing that when he stopped, a teacher would tell him to go again. It felt right to go fast. Everything was moving at the appropriate pace now. He could move freely now that the elephant was off his back. He challenged himself every day to go faster and faster. He played catch with himself. He raced the lights whenever he turned them on. He got faster at a rate that even he couldn’t keep up with—he had focused so much on increasing his speed that he hadn’t even begun to try controlling it. Control hadn’t really appealed to him at the time. He didn’t know any better. His teachers had taught him some basics, but nothing that really mattered since he was so advanced for his age. One night, he ran. He ran until his heart ached, his lungs burned, and his thighs quaked with fatigue. Phichit learned that he found his best strength when he was his weakest, so he pushed past his body’s limits and, the next thing he knew, he had travelled thirty years into the future. It was disorienting, like stepping into your bedroom to find hundreds of small details changed. Details small enough to be almost imperceptible if the subtle shift hadn’t been so unnerving. Celebrities on billboards and posters looked older. Famous brand logos had either changed their design or vanished completely. Buildings were demolished and the newer ones were so tall that you couldn’t see the top. The gravity of the situation could never be completely clear to a twelve year old boy who had just skipped ahead in time the way normal people fast forward through movies. He had to admit that the importance of what happened still hadn’t sunk in, otherwise, he would’ve never told Yuuri about it. Sure, he fudged the details a bit by saying he went back instead of forward, but it was clear that he still hadn’t grown up quite as much as he’d like to have since that time. When he was in the future, he enjoyed himself until his mistake forbade it. If it weren’t for the help from a much older speedster, his timeline, his life, would have been miserable upon his return. The speedster told Phichit how to get back to his own time and he stressed that control was key—something that Phichit had neglected ever since he learned to run. He talked to Phichit like an adult: no holds barred and with a sense of urgency that scared him at the time. You need to keep running. Keep running until you think you’re ready to come back here. You need to come back here. At the young age of twelve, Phichit could’ve destroyed the lives of countless innocent people. He thought about this as he scrolled through the Instagram account he set up for Yuuri. It was exploding with notifications but he couldn’t be happy about it. The longer he looked at his friend’s pictures, the deeper the sadness inside him became. Yuuri was his best friend. He was like a brother to Phichit—like the other half of his brain. Phichit never thought he would feel so strongly about someone without those feelings being romantic but here he was. He couldn’t imagine living in a world without Yuuri. Just the thought was impossibly grey and pointless. Yuuri didn’t know how much he meant to Phichit, how much light he brought into his world, and Phichit hated himself for that. How had he not told Yuuri how important he was? He scrambled through words in his head but he couldn’t find the right ones. He couldn’t find the right ones to use when the time came to leave his best friend forever. There were no words. The speedster was clear though. You need to come back here. He had to go back to the future. It didn’t matter that the first time he travelled in time, he almost ended everything that mattered to him. It didn’t matter that the idea of repeating his mistake kept him up at night. It didn’t matter that going back meant that it was very possible Yuuri wouldn’t even be alive when he returned. He wasn’t sure about time lapses when it came to time travel and jumping across timelines. He wasn’t sure about anything except the fact that he would never come up with a good enough reason to not go back. What he had to do would always objectively be far more important than his fears. The world needed his gift. The world needed him to not be afraid to use it. It was the kind of sacrifice that had to go unnoticed but would define the rest of his existence. He wondered how the other speedsters had handled it—leaving their timelines indefinitely to hunt and stop an elusive supervillain. There couldn’t possibly be an appropriate farewell for this, especially since explaining why you were leaving was forbidden. Explaining things meant tampering with the timeline and potentially causing irreparable damage. And then there was the matter of knowing when to leave. Phichit felt that the time was coming. Spring Gate was crawling with action, but something else was coming to this city, bringing a dark finality with it. He could be mistaken. Who was to say that he wasn’t ready when he was fourteen and vibrated so quickly that he could see through the spaces between his hamster’s molecules? He could’ve been ready when he was eighteen and fooled an EKG into registering him as dead, when his heart was actually beating so fast it was registering as a flat line. Or maybe last month when he moved so quickly, he saw after images of the Eiffel Tower standing next to the Taj Mahal. But, for whatever reason, none of those times felt right. He could be wrong, but Phichit didn’t think so. After all, he was supposed to return when he had mastered control, not just his speed. Phichit was still struggling to understand what that meant. Phichit told Yuuri that he didn’t know where the other speedsters were at, which was mostly true, but that wasn’t the most important question. He needed to figure out when they were too. They could be scattered throughout time, for all he knew. The older speedster never said they were together. He did however know that even though there weren’t that many of them, they were all hunting Ao, the fastest being alive. Even though he had never met Ao, he couldn’t help but envy him. There was no doubt that Ao knew what control was and he was abusing it. If Phichit could just figure out that last speedster secret, that last little nugget of knowledge, he could hurry back to his best friend. But it was reckless to think that way because seconds in one time line could be months in another. There was no way to calculate the difference. He had to resign himself to the fact that the end was coming and he couldn’t cry about it. The best he could do was leave his friend in the care of heroes who would help Yuuri when he was gone. Phichit couldn’t leave him alone in his situation with Fujiwara so this was the best he could do for Yuuri who was stubborn and guarded to a fault. He tried reasoning with Yuuri to no avail. He couldn’t even be honest with Victor about Yuuri’s situation because for one thing, it was possible that Victor wouldn’t believe him—the truth had to come from Yuuri. It was also possible that if Victor did believe Phichit and offered to help, Yuuri wouldn’t believe that Victor was on his side and would relentlessly avoid him, continuing down the same path he was on. This was the only way. Yuuri would never willingly do it so he had to be forced into it. He had to be forced to explain himself to Victor and the other heroes. Phichit sat up in bed and closed Instagram on his phone—that was enough wallowing. It was time to call Victor. * “What’s your favorite color?” No answer. “Ok… um…Do you like skiing? I’ve always found it a bit scary…” No answer. “Are you a cat person or a dog person?” Still no answer. “Have you ever—” “Usually,” Victor interjected, quite agitated with the little voice in his ear, “stakeouts are held in silence to avoid distraction.” “You can’t have had too many fun stakeouts.” Victor had half a mind to rip his comm link from his ear, but he knew that would be reckless as it was his only connection to headquarters while he was in the field. It was a shame, he thought, that it was now connected to someone so thoroughly irritating. He had to admit that Agni was only irritating in the threat he posed. If he could breach a secure communication link like the one provided to Victor by headquarters, then he posed a unique threat to heroes everywhere. And yet, Victor couldn’t help but act on the information Agni gave him. He had been waiting for it, after all. He was almost regretting it though, as he had been sitting outside a warehouse lot, in the heart of nowhere, for what seemed like ages. “You said he’d be here, and I don’t see anybody,” Victor said. It was true that when he began surveillance earlier in the evening, the only people who had entered the warehouse were delivery workers, loading and unloading trucks of what looked like crates of flour. Now, there was no one here but Victor. “Are you sure this is the right one?” “Haven’t been wrong yet… wait a second… are you waiting for Agni’s Cat to show up?” “W-who?” “Oh, I guess heroes and civilians know him as the Red Specter….” “Yes! That’s the whole reason why I’m here!” “Oh! He’s already been there!”
“What?!”
“I thought you knew!” “Of course I didn’t know! Why didn’t you say anything?!” “I thought it was obvious!” “Why on Earth—you haven’t even told me what I should be looking for!” Victor dashed down from his perch on a cliff overlooking the lot of warehouses. How could Red Specter have slipped past him when he had been watching for hours? The only people that had been there were the workers and they— “Oh…” He smacked his palm against his head. The workers weren’t actually workers… at least one of them wasn’t. How could he have been so stupid? He skirted around the buildings to his target, but at this point, he wasn’t expecting anything. Red Specter was surely long gone by now. He placed his hand on the warehouse’s metal door and took a deep breath. Ice spilled from his palm and spread like ink over the surface, creating a satisfying crackling sound as it went. He withdrew his hand and then kicked hard on the frozen part which shattered. He stepped over the shards and picked his way down an aisle of shelves lined with enormous crates. He jogged up and down aisle after aisle. Nothing. He decided to call it. Defeated and a bit embarrassed, he turned on his heel to leave, but stopped when he saw a figure standing in front of the light that poured in from the entrance that Victor had made. “Hey!” Victor called, making the person jump and turn around. The person was wearing a uniform like the others who had unloaded and loaded the trucks earlier. Victor smirked. “Burning the midnight oil, are you?” The person bolted but Victor was faster. A wave of water rushed forward from his fingertips and tangled the person in a liquid globe, leaving only their head free. The globe rose in the air and brought the person closer to Victor. “Lovely night for a heist, wouldn’t you say?” Victor said to the man struggling against his watery prison. “Let me go!” “Oh, sure thing. Just tell me what I want to know.” “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” “Well for starters, why don’t you tell me why you’re here?” The man did not reply but continued to flail pointlessly in the globe of water. Whenever the man seemed like he would punch his way through, the water expanded around him, like a kinetic ball of amorphous jelly. Victor tried not to roll his eyes. “There’s no use in trying to kick water. Answer me, and I’ll let you go. You were here to steal something, right?” “I don’t have it!” “What? What do you mean?” “The Eye of Persephone—I don’t have it! I mean I did, but he took it!” “Who? Who took it?” Victor’s heart raced. “I don’t know! I didn’t see his face. I bet it was Agni’s damned cat, I heard he likes rubies. I made the tradeoff well enough, and next thing I know, I was waking up on the floor and the ruby was gone. I could kill him!” He spat the last part, angry splotches of red bursting onto his face. “I don’t think you want to add murder to your rap sheet.” Victor sighed. He gave the man a once over and decided that he wasn’t lying. He tapped his comm to address Agni. “Did you get all that?” “Of course. If I’m being honest, I didn’t expect you to meet him tonight. If he doesn’t want to be seen, he won’t be seen. I only ever intended to show you what you’re up against on this first run.” “It’s been informative,” Victor said ruefully, making his way through the entrance, the water prison gliding eerily behind him. “There are a few things you should know about him, besides the garbage that’s in the newspapers I mean. First, he’s quite shy, which is why he never leaves evidence and doesn’t like to be seen. If you don’t have me on your side, you’ll never see him face to face.” “I can think of a million reasons why a thief wouldn’t want to be seen besides them being shy.” “Do you want my help or not, Winter?” Victor grunted and Agni continued. “Second, a lot of people think he’s soft because he avoids fights and doesn’t hurt civvies.” “Glad he’s got a moral compass…” “Third,” Agni plowed on, “this is a severe mistake. You should not underestimate him. He may avoid the fight but, if he has to, he is more than capable of finishing it.” There was silence on the line before Victor broke it. “Is that all?” “Last, he’s incredibly stubborn… very thick. He makes it near impossible for anybody to help him….” “Does that mean he works alone?” “Of course not. And I’m going to make sure that he never does.” “He’s lucky to have such a good friend,” Victor said and they talked for a while, discussing their next plan of action as Victor slowly made his way back to town. After Agni reassured Victor that he would get another opportunity soon, he switched the link off. He was incredibly frustrated with himself. He had wasted so much time thinking about Red Specter that now he could only feel guilty about his obsession—it was no way for a hero to think of a criminal. To make things worth, he came all the way to the rural outskirts of Spring Gate without telling Boss with nothing to show for it. It was stupid and incredibly reckless, especially since he was secretly communicating with this Agni person. He didn’t even know who Agni was. He didn’t know he could trust him. And for some reason, none of that changed his mind about Red. He wanted to find him. “Oi!” “Huh? What?” Victor had forgotten about the thief floating helplessly behind him like a monstrous balloon. “You said you were letting me go!” “I am,” he deadpanned. “I’m letting you go to prison.” * Yuuri was trying to get stronger. He really was. But it wasn’t the same without Minako holding him accountable for his chicken nuggets and pork cutlet bowls. He was keeping up with the other thieves, but the more he fought them, the more he realized just how weak he was compared to when he was younger. There was no use joining a gym either because the type of training he needed could only be found at the Grand Prix. Iron Angel was the combat instructor at the academy and she was ruthless. Though she didn’t know it, between her and Minako, his four years of cat burglar training were brutal and relentless. At the time, he loathed it. But now he craved it. He wanted to be his best self again. His best self would not have been sore after his encounter with those young heroes. And his best self definitely wouldn’t have been exasperated with those same heroes bursting in on him whilst he carefully worked at the display case of a particularly heavy looking ruby bracelet. He was in a museum this time, a more daring heist than what he was used to but what was the point in subtlety when he was already on the heroes’ radar? “Hands up and back away from the case,” the young hero, Spotlight ordered. Yuuri didn’t even look and kept working on the display case. “I said hands up!” They seemed flustered. Yuuri had to hand it to them though—they were brave for someone so young. The one with wings, 88, flew at Yuuri who ducked left and kicked her in the stomach. She hurled backwards right as Yuuri got his hands on the case again. Spotlight growled with indignation. Yuuri was glad he had the foresight to switch the vision function on his mask because just then, the room was blinding, and he could tell that he would not be able to see at all without it. Spotlight ran up to him but Yuuri grabbed their wrist and turned them around, pushing them away in one swift motion. He repeated that a few times on the others, not moving from the case and working as quickly as possible. He was almost done when they all attacked at once. Now they get serious, Yuuri thought with some agitation. He backed away, dodging punches left and right. He threw Spotlight down the corridor and nearly tore a hamstring as he jumped to avoid the limber one—he never caught their name last time. The one who roared like a tiger last time flexed his hands making claws appear. Yuuri grimaced. He didn’t care for the mutant types. At least not when they were fighting him he didn’t. They circled each other before Yuuri dived and rolled between his opponent’s legs, catching him off guard. He almost got knocked out by 88 who was hovering above him but he clenched her hand and threw her in the same direction Spotlight was now sprinting back up. He was starting to feel a bit disoriented. They weren’t nearly as strong as him, but there were still too many for him to handle alone. Tiger hero and Agile hero circled around him but he ignored them as he immediately set to work on the case again—he would let them come to him. And come they did. He had just deactivated the magnetic lock on the case when they all closed in on him. Without looking up he swung his arm out like a knife and chopped Tiger hero in the neck making him choke. He tried to hoist the glass off the pedestal with one arm but the other three yanked him away. Using their grip as leverage, Yuuri flipped Spotlight, and with his now free hand jabbed 88 in the same spot he did Pyre, making her fall unconscious from the air. He turned to the case. Without warning, his cheek slammed against the glass. Agile hero had him pinned down. He tried to move. Oh. This one was strong. “Good job, Axle! Hold him there and I’ll cuff him,” he heard Spotlight call. He took a deep breath because he was starting to panic. His left arm was firmly pinned to his back and the other was stretched out in front of him. There was no use struggling. Axle was strong-strong. Like JJ strong. Yuuri couldn’t fight him. Think. There had to be a way out of this. He had seconds. Seconds before he lost everything. Without meaning to, he roared with frustration. “Hey! None of that!” Axle scolded, his grip getting impossibly tighter as he pushed Yuuri so hard into the glass he thought it might shatter as it slid forward a fraction of a centimeter on its pedestal. That could work. Yuuri threw caution to the wind. He dumped all his strength into kicking the pedestal forward. The glass plummeted beneath him and, without sufficient purchase, Yuuri and Axle dipped forward. In his shock, Axle’s grip slackened just enough for Yuuri to wrench himself free. Before it could fall, Yuuri grabbed the ruby bracelet in a tight fist, the inside of the case balancing on the top of his clenched knuckles. Pandemonium broke loose as Yuuri sprinted to the pedestal, dropped the glass back on it and made a beeline for a stair case. He narrowly missed several hands. He didn’t care where the stairs took him. If he could get out of their sights for one second, he was in the clear… *
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
When Phichit and Yuuri had first moved to Spring Gate, they had both felt a bit ill. As soon as they set foot in the airport, they felt weak and lightheaded. The feeling eventually faded, so they decided that it was most likely jet lag. But, whenever Yuuri got close to Lady Chance, the clock tower in the center of the city, he felt that same feeling again. Just standing next to it made Yuuri feel as if he were standing at the very peak of its winged turret, looking down at the swirl of motion and blotchy color several stories below. The clock was huge, dizzyingly tall with a haunting chime. From afar, the echoing bells reverberating from the golden face were lovely, like a sound from a dream, but up close, it was just overwhelming. Bowong, bowong, bowong. The din shook Yuuri’s bones and his vision blurred as he focused on Scavenger from the safety of Lady Chance’s shadow. Today’s job was different. Instead of stealing a ruby from some protected place, he was stealing a ruby back from Scavenger who had already stolen it. He, Yuuri, was actually returning it to the rightful owner this time. Admittedly, it felt weird, but somehow still right. Scavenger had emerged from behind a tree in the adjacent park and was casually making his way to an alley at Yuuri’s 11 o’clock. He had already checked the streets and there was no one in that alley yet—Scavenger would be waiting. That suited Yuuri just fine. He used his grappling hook and nimbly scaled the neighboring government building to follow Scavenger from above. When he was standing directly above Scavenger, he crouched low, ready to jump down and take him out in one movement. “I already told you I’m not doing that,” Scavenger growled. Yuuri froze, waited. Had he been made? “No,” Scavenger barked. There was a slight pause before he spoke again, and Yuuri realized he must be speaking to someone on a headpiece. “Because I don’t push bodies, that’s why. No.” Yuuri slipped his phone out and shot Phichit a quick message. In seconds, Phichit responded through his comm link. “Intercepting call now,” he said and static pushed his voice out before it was replaced by a thin, wispy one. “—a bit of garnish. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to—” “I know,” Scavenger snapped. “But you should think about it. Walters will be at Port 6 within the hour and you can discuss it with him. It doesn’t have to be trafficking—he’s in need of many different… talents. And he pays well.” “Noted.” Scavenger must’ve cut the line, because there was nothing after that. His furry ears twitched angrily on top of his head. If Yuuri couldn’t still feel the exact spot in his gut where Scavenger kicked him, he would’ve thought it was cute. He wasted no time and dropped down onto Scavenger’s shoulders. The mutant let out choked howls and stumbled forward in surprise as Yuuri gripped his neck tightly in his arms. He had to measure his strength—he didn’t want to kill him. But it was difficult to know how much was enough. Scavenger almost threw him off before his steps became sluggish and he fell to his knees. Before he could fall on his face, Yuuri slid off of Scavenger’s shoulders and flipped the mutant onto his back. Yuuri searched his pockets and found what he was looking for—a breath taking ruby ring with diamond inlay. He stashed it away before scaling the government building again to sprint in the opposite direction. He clicked the comm link on again. “Agni. Send the coordinates for Port 6 to my GPS.” “Uh… you making a pit stop?” “The guy Scavenger was talking to mentioned trafficking. It must be human trafficking, right?” “That checks out, yeah.” “I can’t hear something like that, and just let it happen.” “I…” Phichit sighed hard. “I don’t know. Are you sure about this? If I’m being honest, I really think you should be taking it easy since you had that recent run in with those heroes again.” Yuuri leapt down from the building, landing neatly on his feet for a half second before resuming his sprint. His heart hammered away and a tingling sensation he usually associated with extreme heights crawled over his skin. “I need those coordinates by the time I reach my motorcycle.” “Sending them now,” Phichit said, a small relief. “You do realize that this is exactly how Metropolis got caught, right?” Yuuri couldn’t think about that as he skidded to a stop in front of his motorcycle which he had hidden in an underground lot. There would never be a day when Minako’s arrest didn’t hollow out his chest. But, he couldn’t imagine a scenario in which his mentor would tell him to stop. “Everything worthwhile comes with a risk,” he said and he brought his motorcycle to life. * “Rough night, puppy?” Victor taunted Scavenger who stood several meters across from him, panting and fur drenched in freezing water. “A little birdie told me that you would be meeting someone here for a… transaction? Did I get that right?” Scavenger only growled in response flicking his tail angrily back and forth as the pair began to make slow circles around each other. Victor waved his hand. Water sprang from the earth like a whip and swiped Scavenger’s ankles, sweeping him off his feet and onto his butt. He tried to scramble away from Victor, but it was useless. The stream of water snaked back to Scavenger and froze around his ankle, shackling him to the spot. Scavenger barked and swiped his vicious claws at the ice to no avail. “Now, now, play nice,” Victor said. “Do you have something that doesn’t belong to you?” He raised his hand and thin streams of water slithered in and out of Scavenger’s pockets. They only revealed so much useless junk, making Victor frown. “Nothing? That’s strange. I guess I’ll just take you back to—” “Take me if you want to, Winter,” Scavenger barked, “but I know what you’re really after. You want Agni’s Cat.” It took a second before it clicked in Victor’s mind that Scavenger was talking about Red Specter. He shrugged. “You’re all the same to me,” he said and Scavenger laughed. “Don’t lie. Word travels, even between heroes. You’ve been looking for him. I can tell you where he is.” “You want to make a deal?” Victor scoffed incredulously but something turned over in his stomach. “I’m not gonna do much talking. You decide for yourself what you really care about.” * “It’s not that I don’t support this decision, because I really do,” Phichit’s nervous voice came through Yuuri’s comm link, “but I won’t be able to help you out when you get there. You’re blowing off a meetup for this, so I have to do damage control.” “You mean the ring?” Yuuri had almost forgotten about the little piece of jewelry nestled in his utility belt. He sped down the interstate, following the directions on his GPS thinking wildly of what he would be faced with once he reached Port 6. How would he even be able to help? How many people did he have to take down? He had no idea what the layout of the port was. He would have to wing it. “I can leave it somewhere for you to pick up if that makes it easier.” “Hmm… no that’s too risky. I’ll just… go get yelled at. It’s no big deal.” “I’m sorry, Agni.” “Don’t be. I’m sorry I can’t do more, but I’m about to walk into a meeting with an exotic animal smuggler now… I could be to a computer and back before anyone noticed, but computers aren’t as fast as I am…” “Don’t worry about that, I can handle it. Go get your alien money,” Yuuri reassured him as he finally brought his motorcycle to a humming crawl a block away from the port. He parked it behind a dumpster at an abandoned gas station and began jogging in the direction of Port 6. “I’m going in.” “Ok. Just remember, in and out. You’re there to acquire your target, not to engage. The rules of taking people and taking rubies can’t be too different, right?” “My thinking exactly.” Yuuri let the line die as he approached the port. The lot was filled with rows and rows of freight trucks. It was almost 3am so the boarding docks were roped off and the offices were closed, blinds shut. There didn’t seem to be anything out of the ordinary in the small port, the metal freight containers wailing as the briny wind hit it. Yuuri crept carefully around the corners of trucks, listening hard. Think. If I was hiding someone, where would it be? He tried to think like the traffickers—where would be the optimal place for receiving possibly more than one struggling captive? He turned to look at the freight container his back was pressed against and dragged his hand down his face. Of course. But how was he going to figure out which container the captives were hidden in? A flicker of light caught his eye. He whipped his head around, expecting to find Spotlight and their friends. He tensed up, looking for the source, and there it was, a small spark that was gone as soon as it came, fizzling out under a freight truck. It was only a few meters away from Yuuri who inched closer. He heard voices. “Smoking’s bad for you,” someone muttered. “Does it look like I give a fuck, Graham?” Someone snapped back, and another spark fluttered to the ground—most likely from the end of a cigarette. The man Scavenger was speaking to mentioned that someone named Walters would be at the port. That must be the smoker. “Where the hell is my driver? He’s late. You said he’d be here.” “I… yeah, I gave him the address.” “Did you give him the coordinates?” “Y-yeah, of course,” the stranger, Graham, complied, although thoroughly unconvincingly. Walters must’ve thought so too because he hissed and chucked his cigarette—Yuuri watched it skid across the lot and under the bellies of trucks. “I can call him.” “Don’t bother. We’re not doing this tonight. Tell Xavier to get his ass out here and—” “I’m here!” Yuuri said. He jogged away from the safety of his hiding place and directly up to the pair. His skin felt hot. Bits of a plan were buzzing in his head, trying to find each other’s ends so that they could piece themselves together. He tried to make his heart still as he studied their bewildered faces, Walters—freckled, bearded, and plaid. Graham—lanky, pinched, sandy. Yuuri’s mouth dried up. He would not remember these faces. “You the driver?” Walters spat. “Yeah, sorry,” Yuuri began, a bit tremulously, looking from one to the other. “Sorry?” Walters repeated. “Sorry… I didn’t have the coordinates.” Graham blanched. “I swear I—” “Shut up! I don’t have time for this. You—” he pointed at Yuuri. “What’s up with the mask? You robbing a gas station on the way?” “Security,” Yuuri said simply. “Take it off. You’ll stick out.” “I—”
“Off.”
Yuuri looked rapidly from Graham to Walters, trying to find a way out of this. He should’ve waited, found an opportunity to take the truck while the two were gone. He couldn’t take his mask off. Before he even registered what he was doing, he reached out and snatched the baseball cap off of Graham’s head. He put it on. “I don’t stick out,” he said flatly. Walters looked at him incredulously but Yuuri continued before he could talk again, “it’s dark out, so no one is going to notice my face anyway. They see the shape of the hat and keep driving, right?” Walters’s face glowed red. “You look like a murderer,” he hissed. “Take. It. Off.” “And if they ID my face, I’ll look like a human trafficker. They can connect me back to you. They can’t ID a face they can’t see.” Walters lurched forward, and for a second, Yuuri thought the man would strangle him but he simply roared his outrage before pointing at a red freight truck beside them. “Get in! And if this goes bad, I will find you, and I will skin you. Do you understand?” “That won’t happen,” Yuuri said and he ambled up the steps and into the truck. What dumb luck that Graham hadn’t actually seen his driver’s face… that the driver hadn’t even showed up, that Graham was apparently a fucking idiot. When he shut the door, he was relieved to find the keys already in the ignition. The buzzing bits of plan began slowly pulling themselves together. He cranked the keys and the truck revved to life. He rolled the window down when he noticed Walters waving at him. Walters turned to Graham. “You at least gave him the info?” Graham nodded. Walters turned back to Yuuri. “Alright, Chuckles. You have the address. When you get there, Olivia will be waiting for you. Skip the pleasantries. Give her the code so she knows you’re with us. You have the code in your phone.” Yuuri nodded. “Show me your phone,” Walters said. Yuuri took a deep breath. “It’s a slow phone. We’re already running late. It’ll take forever to load aga—” “I said show me your phone.” Yuuri’s mouth felt dry again as he fished his phone out of his pockets. It took a lifetime to unlock. What was the code? It could be anything. Literally anything. He had seconds. He tried to think of what the man told Scavenger, any bit of hidden info he hadn’t paid attention to at the time. There was that one strange fragment. It made no sense: a bit of garnish. It could be a code. Or nothing. He had nothing. He unlocked his phone and typed it into his notes anyways before putting it in Walters’s outstretched hand. Walters stared at it for what seemed like a second too long. “What the hell is this?” “I told you, my phone is slow, so I just copied the code into my notes.” “Where’s the rest of it?” Yuuri swallowed. “That’s all Graham sent me.” Graham looked scandalized and he took out his own phone, throwing Yuuri into a panic. He snatched his phone back from Walters before he could back too far away. “Look, Scavenger told me about this job,” he blurted, reaching for a way out. “If you want him to do this instead, I’ll call him up, but I’m not going to have Olivia blame me for the delivery being late. This is your fault,” he pointed at Walters. “My fault? And how do you figure that?” “You’re responsible for who you hire,” Yuuri rambled and put the truck in gear. “Graham messed up, but that’s on you. Now I’m going to get this delivery to Olivia before she makes a call to the boss.” “The boss?” “You don’t have that information either, huh?” Yuuri shook his head and began driving the truck forward. “I’ll call Graham when I’m at the halfway point.” Yuuri slammed the gas. He heard, as if through a veil of mud, Walters cursing him. His hands shook on the wheel as he drove towards the exit. He could barely see it, so he switched the flood lights on. The lights fell on a man running straight at him. Yuuri swerved dangerously and the man leapt aside. He didn’t stop to see who it was, but kept going… Don’t look. Don’t look. If he stopped, he didn’t know what would happen. He might be being paranoid—that man could’ve been the Xavier that Walters mentioned… it didn’t necessarily have to be the real driver. It could even be someone completely unrelated to this situation. Just don’t look. It was just a jogger. Out for a midnight run…
Bang! Bang!
“Shit!” The sound of gunshots filled the air and Yuuri hammered down on the gas. * Even though it was night, Victor could feel heat boiling just beneath his skin. He was so furious, he thought that, if he tried, he would be able to produce a flame as easily as if it were day. That probably wasn’t the best idea though, considering he was barreling down the interstate in a police van. He had called in the kidnapping—but the closest transport was miles away. He had to ask the police for help. He still couldn’t believe it. He felt betrayed. Somehow, Red Specter didn’t seem like the type to be involved in human trafficking, But Victor guessed he had been stupid. Red was a villain, after all. Cold air rolled off of him in waves and the police officer driving the van glanced at Victor, trying to conceal a shiver. Victor was too angry to feel guilty. Everything was wrong. He wanted to punch Red. Throw him in prison. Punish him for betraying what little faith Victor—admittedly—baselessly had in him. Heroes shouldn’t think like that. Trying to expel some of his frustration, he laughed, making the officer jump. Not knowing what else to do, he dialed Agni’s number and transferred it to his comm link. “I’m sorry, do you know what time it is?” Agni answered groggily. “Your beauty sleep will have to wait. Where is he?” He heard it from Scavenger, but it somehow didn’t seem official without Agni confirming it. “I wasn’t sleeping, but it’s been a long day. I’m sure you can appreciate that. What could you possibly want with him at this indecent hour?” “I don’t have time for your games. I heard that he’s been up to more than just stealing rubies. Something far worse. Tell me where he is. I’m bringing him in right now. I don’t care if this is a bad time for you.” There was silence on the line and Victor wondered what Agni was thinking, whether he was trying to think up some lame excuse. He wouldn’t have it. There was no dismissing a crime like this. “You’re way more hot-headed than the media lets on, aren’t you,” Agni commented. You should know that I actually don’t give out information without proper payment.” “You—” “But it doesn’t matter,” Agni interrupted, sounding irritated, “because I don’t know where he is. I suspect he’s closer than you think, though, so don’t worry. You’ll run into him soon enough, Winter Torch.” The line clicked out. Just then, the explosive sounds of gunshots and horns ripped the night in two. The officer swerved the van in surprise. Victor swiveled in his seat to look at the opposite lane. Cars swiveled dangerously out of the way of a red freighter torpedoing down the interstate like a bat out of hell with a trail of cars on its bumper. “What the…” when more shots fired, Victor turned to the officer. “Take the next exit.” * “くそ, くそ, くそ, くそ! ちくしょう!” It was barely three in the morning. Why on earth were there so many cars on the highway? He leaned into the horn “Out of the way!” he bellowed. Bang! He ducked as more bullets soared through his already wrecked window. Shit. The plan that almost pieced together in his mind was in shambles. He didn’t want to go directly to the police, but he didn’t have a choice now. Scrunched low in his seat, he fumbled for his phone and put it in his lap. “Hey, Siri! Where’s the nearest police station?!”
I’m sorry. I didn’t catch that.
“Siri!”
What can I do for you?
“How do I get to—shit!” A bullet grazed Yuuri’s cheek. He jerked the steering wheel, nearly crashing into a minivan going miles below the speed limit. “どけ!” He battled traffic, bullets, and Siri before his navigation finally pinged on his screen. “Finally,” he breathed and made a break neck merge into the far right lane. Cars scattered like ants around him and he leaned into the horn again. He hoped the people in the freight container were ok… Gunshots flew at him from his left and right, making him crouch low in his seat. He fumbled blindly at the glove compartment for something, anything that he could use to get the shooters off of him. His hand closed around something that felt promising so he rolled down his left window and aimed at what he hoped was the car’s tires. A cloud of red light exploded next to him and he was blind—screams rang out beside him, followed by a nasty sounding crash. He looked in horror at the thing in his hand “Why is there a fucking flare gun in here?!” The night suddenly felt cold despite the searing blood blotching his mask. Bang! More shots flew over his head. Yuuri cranked his right window down and threw the gun with all his strength at the car next to him. The car swerved and he dropped a lead foot on the gas. But it was a freight truck. And freight trucks were slower than most cars, no matter how hard he put his foot on the gas. The car he threw the flare gun at was already back on his tail—he saw it getting ever closer in his side-view mirror. It was too much. He would never get out of this alive. He needed help. Yuuri clicked his comm link on. “Curiosity killed the cat,” he rattled off his and Phichit’s emergency code. He was surprised at how stiff he felt, as if there was ice instead of ligaments in his spine. “But satisfaction brought it back,” Phichit replied. “For once, I think that someone actually might get to you before me.” “Wha—aargh!” Another bullet whisked past his cheek. “Hang in there, buddy,” he heard Phichit say through the pounding of blood in his ear. Yuuri thought the overwhelming amount of panic welling inside him was making him crazy, because just then, he saw an iceberg sprout like magic in his left lane. The car beside him collided with it. Yuuri almost crashed himself when he turned around to confirm what he saw. “What the…” but then he understood why he felt cold. The shivers in his spine made sense now. “Thank God, it’s Winter Torch…” He adjusted his mirror. He could just make out the red and blue flashes of a police van in the distance. Then he looked at his masked reflection and cursed. “Oh God, it’s Winter Torch. No, no, no, no, no…” The bullets firing at him almost made him forget he was an international jewel thief. He suddenly felt intensely dumb. In his muddled panic, he almost missed his exit, but he wrenched the steering wheel to the right and barreled off of the highway. He felt the freighter tilt on its wheels—he hoped the captives were holding on tight to something.
Turn left at the next light.
Yuuri jumped. He forgot about Siri. He fumbled at the glove compartment again and yanked out what felt like a pen and paper. He uncapped the pen with his knees and started scribbling.
Your destination is on the right.
* Victor jumped out of the van before it stopped and sprinted to the freighter parked haphazardly in the police station lot. The front had completely knocked several cruisers aside. Several officers had emerged from the station, surrounding the truck in a cautious circle, pointing guns and shouting things. Victor skidded to a stop at the door and wrenched it open. There was nobody in the driver seat. The upholstery was riddled with bullets and shattered glass. When Victor stepped up to get a better look, he noticed a scrappy note. The scrawl was almost impossible to make out.
Walters, Graham, and Olivia wanted you to have this. Not really but…
Victor turned the messy note over in his hands several times before pocketing it. He hopped down from the steps and jogged to the back of the freighter and knocked. “If anyone’s in there, I need you to back up as far as you can ok?” He ordered through the metal. He heard some muffled scurrying. After a few seconds, he blasted the metal with ice before punching it to shards. About a dozen startled people, all young, stared fearfully at him, but didn’t move. “It’s ok,” Victor said, reaching a hand out, “you’re safe.” Recognition began to pour over their faces and they started to clamber out with Victor’s help. He lifted them down one by one in a sort of daze. His brain felt cloudy with confusion but his nerves were wound tight like circuits at their capacity. This situation was hauntingly familiar. It was unlikely that these captives were headed to Kazuya for experimentation, like Victor had when he was a child. That happened in Russia, not Spring Gate… but then again, the three from the sewer had said they were hiding from Kazuya. And he was abducted in Russia and taken to Japan. He didn’t understand how it was all connected, and just the thought of his tormentor from his past still being alive and being so close made him sick. Was Red connected to all this? A police officer was talking to him but he didn’t register what was said. He took out the note again to read it. Walters, Graham, and Olivia wanted you to have this. That made it seem like Red Specter wasn’t involved. It could be the thief’s way of covering his own ass… but then again, he didn’t have to drive the truck to a police station of all places. And the cars chasing him were shooting at him, not for him. If he was on their side, they had a funny way of showing it. “—for any evidence that the driver may have left behind.” Victor blinked at the officer he had almost walked into. “Sorry?” “We’re searching the truck, Winter Torch. Did you find anything?” “Uh…” he slipped the note back into his pocket, “no, just a bunch of glass. But I might have missed something.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The private bungalow was airy and would’ve been relaxing if Phichit didn’t know there were several armed guards stationed at every door and window. It was secluded from civilization, in the heart of an Australian jungle to avoid any pesky onlookers. Even though it was far from the comforts of society, the hidden home was still luxurious, equipped with all modern amenities including an outdoor bar that Phichit was lounging at with Lam. Lam Pok Chi had several places like this scattered around the world. This was the fourth meeting Phichit had with Lam and, usually, he wasn’t one to chase down clients, but the profit from this job alone had the potential to exceed what he and Yuuri made in the last year. Of course, he could just find out where the gems were and let Yuuri steal them. That way, they could sit back and wait until someone made them an offer they liked. The only problem was that he had zero leads. After months of exhausting all his resources, he had nothing. But somehow Lam knew where they were. Phichit needed Lam. And he hated that. He stirred his Old Fashioned moodily, at least content that Lam couldn’t see his expression under his mask. “Why the long face?” What the fuck? Phichit looked up at him, startled, but tried to regain his composure. He couldn’t say that there was nothing wrong—telling a client that they were wrong wasn’t as effective as spinning everything to sound positive… He smiled and turned away to lift his mask. He downed the drink in one, pulled his mask back down, and set the glass on the bar before facing Lam again. “I’m just upset that you still make cocktails better than me,” he said. Lam chuckled and nodded his sly, wizened head in appreciation. “I have been wondering something though. I’m just… not sure if you can help me with it.” “There are many things you need help with these days, Bird,” Lam said. Phichit was a master at concealing his reactions, but Lam tested him at every turn—especially when he used that pet name. He kept the wince building up inside him deep down in his gut. “What is it this time?” “I’m just curious…” Phichit baited, playing up the coy card. “I mean… there’s no denying that you have exquisite taste in gems. The Shield of Orion has a value that is literally out of this world and is elusive for that very reason. It makes sense that you want it. I guess I’ve just been thinking about…why specifically the shield, and not something else that is just as beautiful?” Lam sipped his scotch thoughtfully before licking his lips and setting the glass down. “I’ve got a lovely place in Thailand. A bit like this, but bigger. It’s like a lodge with wooden features and a huge stone fireplace that opens up like a mouth on the wall. Very homey. Sometimes I like spending the winters there,” Lam said, sounding far off though he looked directly into Phichit’s pupils with a strange expression as if he could see Phichit’s optic nerves. “The Shield of Orion is made of a rare alloy with a ruby inlay. Except the inlay is made of just seven rubies about that big,” he held his hands in front of him to demonstrate. “There aren’t many people who have laid eyes on the Shield of Orion but those who have say it shines brightly like a flame, even in the dark. An eternal flame, like that of legends. Something like that is more than a worthy edition to my collection. Imagine something like that glittering from the rocks in my fireplace. Even in summer, the flames will live on. It would complete the look, don’t you think, Bird?” Phichit was speechless. “I… I think it would do exactly that…” Lam barked a laugh and finished off his scotch. “You think I’m shallow,” he said. “I think you’re a man who knows what he wants.” “You would be right to think so,” he said, as if he hadn’t heard Phichit reply. “I’m a collector. Collectors are shallow.” “I just don’t understand style,” Phichit shrugged, “but I don’t think I was very clear before…” “Oh?” “I know you want that shield. But, I can tell that it’s more than that. Tell me why your heart is set on it.” “And why are you concerned about the heart of an old man?” Phichit laughed good-naturedly. “You should’ve asked that after our third time meeting. I want to know because it’s my job to know. I make money by fulfilling my client’s wishes, by getting them exactly what their heart wants. That’s how I build trust. That’s why my clients are never done with me, they always come back to me. I get what I want, and they get what they want and then some.” Lam eyed him and smirked as he refilled his glass with more scotch. He took his time finishing the drink and even made Phichit another Old Fashioned. After a moment of Phichit convincing himself that he had lost Lam, the collector jerked his head at the sliding glass door, gesturing for him to go into the house. He picked up his glass and obeyed, Lam following him in flip-flops. Lam plopped down on a fluffy white couch with his third glass of scotch and gestured for Phichit to sit on the couch across from him. Phichit downed the drink the way he had before and leaned forward to set it on the table but Lam snapped his fingers for a guard to take it. Phichit nodded his thanks and sat back, waiting. “You’re a smart young man, Bird,” Lam said. Phichit hoped his eyes conveyed his thanks because he didn’t dare say anything at this point. Lam rubbed his head wearily and took more time to nurse his scotch. He looked at Phichit. X-rayed his optic nerves. “I assume you know someone by the name of Ikki Fujiwara.” “A long time yakuza leader, yes, I’ve heard of him,” Phichit said, his throat running dry but his tone miraculously even. “I hate him,” Lam said with a smile and a shrug. “It turns out that in my old age, I am both shallow and vindictive. I have my reasons for hating him, but I don’t think that’s what you need to know. Fujiwara wants the shield for himself. Now, usually, I don’t care what that man wants, but this time is different.” “Why is it different? Why does he want the shield?” “Because it’s not actually a shield, Bird. It just looks like one. It’s a battery, an alien power source that first came here in the sixties.” “A battery?” Phichit’s heart sped up. He measured his breaths—he had to be sure not to give anything away. “And I don’t suppose Fujiwara wants to mount this battery on his fireplace, does he?” Lam chuckled, but the humor from earlier was gone from it. “No, he doesn’t. He and I are very different people. If Fujiwara is after the shield, then he’s trying to power something. Something big.” “Just… how much energy does this battery produce?” Lam set his glass down on the table in front of him and sighed. “Care to hazard a guess?” “Stronger than triple-A batteries?” “Strong enough to sustain the entire western seaboard for a century.” Phichit moaned and rubbed his hands under his mask wearily. “And I’m guessing Fujiwara isn’t interested in the shield as a clean sustainable energy source.” “I don’t know what that demon wants with the Shield of Orion, but I can say for sure he doesn’t give a damn about the environment. Nothing good can come of him finding it. But it would do me a great service to have something that he wants so badly decorating my winter vacation home.” * For the first time in a very long time, Phichit felt a more profound sense of empathy for the panic that Yuuri felt almost daily. * Yuuri and Phichit bought sushi and tequila for dinner this time. They sat on the floor, eating languidly as they watched a show on Netflix together, their favorite pastime as of late. When they grew tired of the comedy, they flipped to the evening news. It was pleasantly numbing—a story about a corrupt politician, a merman sighting, tips on flu prevention, and a couple of fluff pieces. A lot of the fluff involved Victor. Well, not Victor - Victor, but Winter Torch. Of course, some other heroes scattered the background, but Victor stood in the spotlight. Victor saves a crew of fishermen. Victor stops a tree from destroying a home. Victor volunteers at an animal shelter. Victor, Victor, Victor. It was literally impossible for Yuuri to get him out of his head, to stop thinking about what Victor really looked like under all the snow, smoke and glimmer. Icy blue eyes and quicksilver hair… Victor was everywhere. Everywhere… and it wasn’t like this back in Japan. Even though Victor was a world renowned hero, Yuuri never saw him on the news as much as he did now that he lived in Spring Gate. It was strange. And he even met Victor… twice. The first time probably didn’t count… he was covered in sewage and ran away like a scared rat as soon as he made eye contact so. Yeah. But still, Victor kept creeping up, just like he did a few nights ago when Yuuri was rescuing the trafficking victims. It didn’t make sense. And when Yuuri stopped thinking about the color of Victor’s eyes, it was actually pretty scary. He was a thief and Victor was a hero. What if Victor started tracking him? Would he be able to fight Victor? And if he did, wouldn’t that just make it more difficult for him to stay undercover in Spring Gate? “Phichit… I think we should move.” “Yeah, just ten more minutes and then I’ll move…” Phichit mumbled drowsily as he munched on his dragon roll. “Good call on the sushi and tequila, by the way. Hits the spot.” “Uh, that was you. You left a post-it on my door that said sushi and tequila night.” “What?” “You—that was just this morning, did you forget?” “I… maybe you’re right. I think I do need to go to bed,” he wiped his hands on his t-shirt and straightened up a bit. “That’s not what I meant, but you’re starting to worry me. You’re forgetting things pretty often now.” “No I’m not! And what were you talking about if it wasn’t sleep?” “I meant leave Spring Gate. I think we need to move to a new town.” “What… what do you mean,” Phichit sat up and muted the TV. “Why would you want to leave? We just got here.” “It’s… it’s too much. There are heroes everywhere here. Even Winter Torch came into the ER. There’s something wrong with Spring Gate and I just think—” “Yuuri,” Phichit cut him off, “no.” “No?” “I mean… it doesn’t make sense for us to leave now. We’re making a lot of money. And like you said, everything worthwhile comes with a risk.” “That’s completely different from—” “You’re worried about heroes, right?” Phichit interjected, his frantic tone making Yuuri worry more. “Heroes sometimes set up camp in a city but then they move on, like nomads. We just have to stick it out. There’s nothing to worry about as long as you keep handling them the way you have been.” “But that’s the thing. What if I can’t?” “What do you mean?” “Vi—I mean Winter Torch… he’s a world class hero and he’s been popping up everywhere. If I end up facing him, I’m done for. A dime-a-dozen thief like me doesn’t stand a chance.” Phichit sighed. “You’re underestimating yourself, Yuuri. You’re assuming the worst and nothing’s happened yet.” “But just the other day, Victor was literally on my tail! And...” Yuuri paused, remembering something, “you knew. You said somebody would actually get to me before you did, and it was Winter Torch. How did you know that?” “It wasn’t hard, Yuuri,” Phichit said a bit more defensively than Yuuri thought was necessary. “Once the guns started firing, pretty much everyone knew that a hero would eventually show up. And I was keeping tabs on the radio to see who was in your area just in case, and Winter Torch just so happened to be going your way. He was probably after the same traffickers in the first place.” “Ok,” Yuuri closed his eyes, trying to process all the information, “that’s still not enough to convince me… it’s just too much, Phichit.” “Yuuri,” Phichit held his hands open as if waiting for a good enough rebuttal to fall into them. He eventually shoved them in his pockets and pulled out his phone. “Look at this. And scroll left.” Yuuri took it. Each picture made his jaw drop further. Fire was the first thought that popped in his head. Miraculous, terrible fire. But he was wrong. They were rubies. Large. Radiant. They made his heart flutter. “What…” “This is the Shield of Orion. Seven parts that make one whole. They were scattered all over the world until recently. Someone’s been pulling some strings so they’re closer than they’ve been since the sixties. Each is worth more than we’ve made in the past six months.” “Someone…” Yuuri looked up at Phichit in shock, “you mean Lam. This is the Lam job.” Phichit nodded. “But this means—” “Four of them are here in Spring Gate.” “Here? Why?” “It’s like you said. Something is wrong with Spring Gate. But it’s just right for us. It doesn’t matter what you steal, Yuuri. Diamonds, emeralds, or even tech. Nothing can touch this. This is our end. We have to stay for this.” “I…” Yuuri shook his head in disbelief as he looked at the rubies again, at Orion. “Yeah. You’re right.” * “What am I supposed to be looking at?” Spotlight shifted uncomfortably and cleared their throat before answering Yakov. “Red Specter’s danger profile, sir.” “This is garbage,” Yakov spat and flicked the file at Spotlight who took it back with shaking hands. Victor shook his head wearily. “It can’t be that bad,” Victor said kindly and took the file away to look at. The information was good and thorough. It listed all the thefts that Red was involved with and was suspected to be involved with, his danger rating (two out of five, which Victor thought was fair) his MO, and timeline of activity. Victor didn’t see the problem. Until he got to the pictures. “What… what is this supposed to be?” “I—I swear that’s all our cameras picked up… or any camera for that matter!” The pictures were blurred images of a room, but nothing more. Oh, there was one clear picture of a room thrown in…it wasn’t even clear that there was supposed to be a person in them either. Victor thought it looked like the image he got when the camera on his phone went off while he was carrying it. He turned the pictures to different angles and thought that maybe if he squinted, he could see the outline of a foot but… Yakov was right. The photos were garbage. He fought the urge to laugh—he was still mad at Red for getting caught up in that whole trafficking fiasco. He still wasn’t quite sure about Red’s innocence. He bit his lip and shuffled through the pictures which, un-ironically, included a sketch of a man in a black mask. He looked like a locked character in a videogame. Victor couldn’t do it. He burst out laughing. “Every danger profile has to have an image attached!” Spotlight snapped, actually stamping their foot. “What was I supposed to do when not even the places he robbed had footage of him?!” “It’s not your fault, kid,” Yakov sighed, to Victor’s surprise. “Don’t worry about it.” “Yeah, his name is Red Specter for a reason. He’s like a ghost,” Victor chuckled as he shut the file and handed it back to Spotlight. “You actually did good work. I think Yakov would agree that we should give the news outlets the sketch instead of the pictures of the empty rooms… at least the public will know what to do if they see someone in a mask like that.” “Th-thank you,” Spotlight stammered. They performed a weird mix between a salute and wave before leaving the breakroom. Victor plopped down on the couch next to Yakov who grimaced. “Any word from Yuri?” “I talked to him a while ago.” “What?!” Yakov sat up straighter. “Yeah, and surprisingly, he came to me first. I made him a deal—he needs to cut off all his grand theft auto ties, apologize to Lilia, apologize to you, and you need to help him out.” Victor sped through the last part, but Yakov still sucked his teeth (bah!) and waved him off. Victor closed his eyes to make a half second prayer for patience. “This is huge, Yakov. He’s trying to make things right. We need to meet him where he’s at if we want to bring him home.” “And what is it exactly that he needs help with this time?” “Of course, there’s the matter of his criminal record,” Victor began and Yakov grunted, rising to his feet to make coffee. He always did that when he was trying to hold his tongue. Victor followed him. “I also promised him that I’d go to Russia with him to find Mila.” “The idea of the century.” “He’s upset. And I get that. He just needs someone to see that what he’s been up to hasn’t been one hundred percent teenage rebellion. His heart’s in the right place.” “We’ll discuss this later,” and when Victor opened his mouth to protest, Yakov held up his hand. “If you press me to give you my answer right now, it will definitely be no so I suggest you wait. In the meantime, we need to talk about a very expensive problem.” “And what’s that,” Victor sighed. The day was starting to weigh on him. “Something just came into Spring Gate and it’s causing a stir in the underworld. Ideally, I would like for you to neutralize the source of commotion before all hell breaks loose, but until we get more information, you’re just going to have to deal with the fights as they come to you. My guess is that a gem is causing the unrest, which brings me to my next point. Red Specter. Your favorite.” Victor busied himself with a loaf of bread. “I already agreed I wouldn’t go after him, so—” “I want you to bring him in.” “—I would appreciate a little more… wait. What?” “Bring him in, Victor.” Victor stared at Yakov. A slice of bread froze in his palm. Yakov rolled his eyes and sipped his coffee, completely unaware of the thought-bomb he had detonated in Victor’s head. He was thinking so much that all the words were slurring together into an incomprehensible buzzing sound in his ears. “Spotlight?” “They did a good job and put together a good team, but Red Specter is clearly more than they can handle. I want you to take him out before things get too messy in Spring Gate. I want to isolate as many easy variables as possible.” “W-w-what about using a nuclear bomb to kill a fly,” Victor spluttered, brandishing his frozen bread. “I thought you said having me face Red was overkill!” “It is overkill. But that’s what we need right now. Show the villains we mean business, no matter what the danger rating is and then they’ll think twice about causing any problems.” “I…yeah…yeah. Ok, I can do that.” “I would hope a five star hero would respond a bit more confidently to that seeing as how their opponent is a two star thief, Victor,” Yakov scolded as he scrubbed his mug clean in the sink. “Don’t worry. I’ll do it.” “Good. And do it before word gets out about Orion.” “Orion,” Victor asked. “What’s that?” “I’m starting to think it’s the reason why we moved to this town,” Yakov yawned. He tossed the dishtowel on the back of a chair and left the kitchenette.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Phichit had been so close to falling asleep, but the conversation he had with Yuuri was now keeping him wide awake. He was trying to desperately solve a puzzle with only two pieces. Money. A battery. What could Fujiwara possibly be building and why? He sank below the water in his tub and closed his eyes, willing his sluggish brain to work. Phichit didn’t know much about Yuuri’s days as Fujiwara’s “doctor.” Yuuri rarely talked about it and, honestly, Phichit couldn’t blame him. Just the thought was nightmare fuel. But he did mention one thing that confused him even now: there were a lot of people Yuuri’s age visiting Fujiwara… and then they were never seen again. It didn’t make sense. Fujiwara made money through extortion and arms deals. Human trafficking wasn’t exactly his MO, so what was with that? Maybe he was training them for some secret mission? He did take Yuuri on as a doctor for whatever reason. But it still didn’t explain why he needed so much money and such a strong energy source. The only explanation was that he was building something (obviously) but Phichit couldn’t for the life of him figure out what. He wondered if Ao, the thief currently running laps across time and space, was somehow connected. Phichit rose above the bathwater and wiped his face. That was but another headache. Ao. His reason for lying to and abandoning his best friend for God knows how long. He still didn’t know how he was supposed to go back to the future. There were too many things on his mind, all of them shoving each other, wrestling for attention. It was probably the reason why he was supposedly forgetting things. The coffees… the notes. He needed to focus. He thought about the thing Yuuri used to say to him back in their Grand Prix days: one foot in front of the other. He needed to take it one step at a time and face his problems as they came to him instead of zooming into next year’s crisis. Phichit took a deep breath and stood up to get out of the tub. First things first: Orion. He needed to get the battery out of Fujiwara’s hands. He had no idea how Yuuri would react if he told him about Fujiwara’s connection to Orion, but he couldn’t chance it. Normally, he would tell Yuuri everything, but he was running out of time. Yuuri would steal all the pieces of Orion and get them to Lam… but then there was Victor. The hero’s charming smirk flashed in his head as he brushed his teeth. He still needed Victor in the picture, still needed Victor to pull Yuuri into his protective circle. Well, he thought as he spat into the sink, if parts of Orion end up with Victor, then that would be fine too. Victor was just as capable at keeping the gems safe as Yuuri or Lam. And, realistically, any gems Yuuri had on him would most likely be confiscated once Victor got to him anyway. Phichit’s skin crawled at the thought of someone as evil as Fujiwara getting his hands on the shield of Orion. It was almost a lucky break that the shield was in pieces. Surely, Fujiwara wouldn’t be able to use the battery if he was missing a few pieces. Yuuri just had to get one, maybe two pieces. Or at least lead Victor to them. Then they would be in the clear. If for whatever reason the gems ended up with Lam anyway, he trusted Lam far more than he did Fujiwara. If push came to shove, they could steal Orion back from Lam in the future. But the goal was to keep them safe from Fujiwara. Lam had already given Phichit the locations for each of the gems. He could have Yuuri go after them tomorrow. Right. Orion first. Everything else later. One foot in front of the other. * Victor could not deny that it was completely amoral to be friends with Chris. It was irresponsible, dishonest, and reckless. But he didn’t care. Victor and Chris had been close since before Victor was a hero. Before Chris decided that he couldn’t be one. Time showed them that nothing could change that. Victor tried to care, tried to polish his moral fiber at times, but found that he couldn’t, especially at times like this when Chris just happened to pop into his life at the perfect time. Victor was resting in his loft’s roof pool. He wasn’t really resting, as much as he was floating in a despondent little ball, allowing his turbulent thoughts to push and pull him with the water. “You look sadder than usual,” Chris said, making Victor uncurl himself to see his friend standing at the edge of the pool in jeans and a black t-shirt. He smiled in spite of himself and beckoned for Chris to come in. Chris sighed. He sat and rolled up his pants legs to dip his feet in the water. “Should I even ask?” “I’m getting older, Chris.” “A tragedy we both suffer from, love. Is this about your birthday party? Because I’m not backing out on that one.” “No…” Victor swam up beside Chris and rested his forearms on the edge of the pool. “Not exactly.” “Then what is it?” “I just feel like I’m wasting so much of my life away.” Chris snorted and nudged Victor with his foot. “Is Winter Torch having a midlife crisis?” “Hey! I am not middle age. I just… I just feel like I’m spending so much of my life as a hero that I’m missing out on being just… me. Like it’s too late for me to be me…” “Victor… you’re always you. What are you talking about?” “Ah,” Victor pushed off the wall into a graceful backstroke, “never mind. I’m just brooding.” “I knew I should’ve brought a bottle of something up here,” Chris mumbled ruefully. “It’s been a while after all.” “Yeah, it has. I see you’ve been busy,” Victor scolded. “Put me in cuffs then, handsome. I’m right here,” Chris held out his wrists and Victor just rolled his eyes at him, opting to dive to the bottom of the pool instead. When he resurfaced, Chris folded his arms. “You know our meetings are few and far between, Victor, so I’d prefer if you tell me what’s really on your mind sooner rather than later.” “Why not later?” “Later is too late, love.” Victor sighed, floated languidly. “How do you separate… what’s good by society’s standards from what’s good by your own standards?” Chris wrinkled his nose in confusion. “Is this about us? I thought we,” “No, Chris, this isn’t… this… aargh!” Victor slammed his fists on the water making two enormous spouts erupt in the air with his power. “It’s Red Specter! I’m supposed to bring him in and I’ve been dying to do that but Yakov has actually given me the ok on it but it doesn’t feel right! I just have a feeling about him, but what if I’m wrong? He was involved that night with all those trafficking victims, and I’m not sure if he was bad involved or good involved and this… this guy keeps hacking my comm link and telling me Red is human and I have no idea what that’s about and I really can’t figure this guy out but I just can’t afford to be wrong about things like this! This should be easier than it is and it’s,” “Victor.” “What?” “Breathe.” “I don’t have time to breathe, Chris!” Victor bellowed. Snow began to fall on him and him alone, but Chris didn’t take his eyes off him. “That’s the problem! I’m a hero and heroes have to be ready to make decisions and they have to be sure of those decisions, otherwise people can get hurt!” “You’re putting a lot of pressure on yourself, Victor,” Chris murmured. He stood and took his shirt and pants off before slipping into the now freezing pool. He waded, shivering, up to his friend who stubbornly turned away. “You were a human before you were a hero. And humans need to breathe. Look at me,” he said, pulling Victor’s shoulder to make him face him. “Nothing is ever black and white. What makes you a great hero is your instincts. If they’re telling you something, you should listen.” “Ok, but where does that leave me? Yakov told me to arrest Red Specter. That’s contrary to what my instincts are telling me about Red.” “Figure it out,” Chris shrugged. “You’re Winter Torch, the world’s top hero, the man that keeps the world guessing. And if you ask me, this whole hero system needs a huge makeover if it’s making you feel like this.” Victor pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. “I’m just tired,” he groaned. The snow thinned into a soft mist before disappearing completely. Chris hummed and swam in lazy circles around Victor who just floated and looked up at the stars. “Red Specter, huh?” Chris mused. “We’ve always had similar taste in men.” “Excuse me? I do not… I don’t know… wait. At the bank that one time. It’s true, Red Specter was there with you.” Chris gave him a coy shrug before doing a flip in the water. “What happened between you too? Did you two fight?” “Ah, Victor, you know I’m a lover, not a fighter. But I think I may have come on too strong. That or, he’s just shy.” “Where have I heard that one before,” Victor rolled his eyes, thinking about Agni. “Listen, don’t tell me anymore about it. I shouldn’t have asked. Tell me about something else.” “How about Yuuri Katsuki?” A small smile grew on Victor’s face. “What about him?” “Cute, isn’t he?” Victor smiled in earnest now, but didn’t satisfy Chris with an answer. “You want me to invite him to your birthday party, don’t you?” “Please and thank you.” * “Mmm… I bet you get this a lot but… you’re so beautiful,” Yuuri mumbled at his omelette in the frying pan. “Thick…” He woke up starving, which was becoming his normal now that all of his jobs were so active. He thought absently about his mother’s omelettes and wondered what she would think about the American style eggs he had come to love so much. Thinking about his mother’s food suddenly gave him a craving for miso soup which probably wouldn’t pair well with the cheese and broccoli in his omelette, but there was only one way to find out. Soon, he had assembled his breakfast, everything neatly arranged on a tray. “Ah, you look so good,” he said appreciatively. “Thanks, dear.” “Jesus!” “Amen,” Phichit said with a nod. Yuuri clutched his shirt where his heart was, thanking the powers above that he wasn’t carrying his food. Phichit wasn’t in his room when Yuuri got up this morning, but here he was, red suit, bird mask, sitting legs crossed at the kitchen table, chin resting on his fist. Yuuri picked up a stray broccoli from his plate and chucked it at Phichit who only laughed when it hit his mask. “Did you even use the door? Why do I never hear you when you come in?” “Trade secret.” “We have no secrets. Best friend code, remember?” “Is there any left for me?” Phichit got up to eye Yuuri’s breakfast. “No breakfast for sneaks,” he snatched the tray out of Phichit’s line of sight and twirled away only to find Phichit in front of him again. He didn’t know why he kept trying to pick petty fights with a speedster. He sighed and set the tray down. “Get a plate, nerd.” “Ah, Yuuri,” Phichit crooned as he hugged Yuuri’s arm, “เราเกิดมาคู่กัน.” They split the food, which Yuuri was too prideful to admit was actually way too much for him anyway. When they were halfway through their meal, Yuuri remembered something and pulled a crumpled sticky note from his pocket. Phichit had written check it on it and stuck it haphazardly to Yuuri’s door. He held it up for Phichit to see. “Check what?” “Huh?” “You put this on my door.” “Lemme see that,” Phichit took the note and examined it for longer than what a two word note was worth. Yuuri put his fork down and cleared his throat. “Phichit.” “Hm,” he hummed without looking up from the note. “I noticed you’ve been pretty… busy lately, so I think it might be a good idea for you to keep track of your day with… I don’t know… a journal.” “A journal,” Phichit parroted in a blank tone. “Yeah. Just to keep your thoughts in order. To help you remember everything.” Phichit put the note down and narrowed his eyes at Yuuri. “You can sugarcoat it all you want but I can tell you”re diagnosing me with early onset whatever, Yuuri. I don’t need a journal. I’m fine. I have a billion of these stupid notes in my room. This one must’ve escaped when I opened my door this morning. “Mhmm,” Yuuri nodded, completely unconvinced. Phichit stuck his tongue out at Yuuri. “Just think about it though. It might help.” “Well, as long we’re just making friendly suggestions to friends, I’ve got a friendly suggestion.” “I bet you do.” “Yuuri, it’s time.” “Gotta be way more specific than that, bud.” “You need to…” Phichit started but backtracked. Yuuri could practically see his thoughts rewinding. “I think you should consider revisiting your powers.” “Aagh,” Yuuri moaned. “Hear me out, please. We’ve already established that Spring Gate is a bigger challenge than what we’re used to. It’s almost too much. But with your power, you could protect yourself.” “It’s not protection if I can’t even use it correctly. It’s just… a grenade. I’ll hurt myself and everyone around me.” “You’re power isn’t that dangerous, Yuuri. I think you’re just scared, which I understand, but you have to realize that you’re power is a part of you. If you can master it, it can be your greatest asset.” “Phichit...” “Think about it,” Phichit said, pointing a fork with egg on it at Yuuri. “It might help.” “Touche,” Yuuri sighed and took his empty plate to the sink. “Do you have any work for me?” He desperately wanted to change the subject. “As a matter of fact, I do. One of Orion’s rubies is being transported today. Once it’s in the facility it’s headed to, you might as well kiss it goodbye. Your best bet is to take the ruby straight from the truck.” “While it’s in transit?” “You could intercept the truck, but that would mean interacting with the driver. Or you could try breaking in while the truck is driving. Your call.” “Alright…” Yuuri said as he began to nurse a cup of green tea. A plan was already forming in his head. “The transport is later this afternoon. Do you think you can swing that?” “Absolutely.” * It became very clear very quickly just how oblivious these guards were to the value of Orion. Otherwise, they would’ve sent a convoy. But it was just the armored truck, which Yuuri was thankful for. Even though he was having some bad luck with hero and thief run ins, he had to admit, he was having his fair share of good fortune as well. First, the idiot Graham, and now this. Of course, it wasn’t ideal that it was daytime. It was riskier to steal in broad daylight, but they were in the middle of nowhere, a stretch of highway surrounded by fields and trees. Yuuri had planned it all out with what little time he was given. With the scarce intel Phichit managed to unearth about the gem’s route, Yuuri managed to determine a good place for stashing his motorcycle for his getaway. Then, he managed to sneak into the facility where the armored truck was being kept, hid in the undercarriage, and waited for the opportune time to climb to the top of the truck. He was now squatting on the roof of the moving truck, thankful that he could finally stretch his legs. He yawned as he moved onto phase two: carefully fixing the widow bomb —an adhesive device that dispensed a potent, metal-eating acid. He had been clinging for dear life to the underside of a truck for the past hour, after all. He inched back to give the acid some room, and when the hole was big enough, he slipped through and landed nimbly on his feet. He found himself mentally thanking Minako yet again for helping him develop his balance. The container protecting the gem was next level, operating on an entirely digital system. He adjusted his comm link. “Requesting data breach,” “Sent,” Phichit said after a few seconds. The small blue screen on the container turned purple so Yuuri took out his phone to copy the codes Phichit sent him into the digital lock. After a bit of typing, the container split to reveal another container with an identical digital lock. “Ugh. Requesting data breach,” he groaned again. “Gotcha,” Phichit said, and they repeated the process two more times, containers appearing like futuristic Russian dolls until, finally, Yuuri saw flames. “Oh, she’s gorgeous, Yuuri purred and then his heart dropped. This… wasn’t good. “Agni!” “What’s wrong?” “How the hell am I supposed to get this thing out of here?!” “What are you t—” “This thing is huge!” “I—” “You didn’t tell me how big this was gonna be!” Yuuri hissed, “How am I supposed to climb out of the truck with this?” This was just one of seven Orion gems but it was still as big as a watermelon, like a fat orb of lava, hefty as it was luminescent. Everything Yuuri had stolen in the past was small enough to fit in his utility belt or at least easy enough to loop around his arm or in a belt loop. This would require both hands. “C-can you… I don’t know… shove it in your suit, somehow?” “No. I’m not Mr.s Doubtfire, Agni! And this thing doesn’t have a zipper! If I wait any longer, I’ll miss my drop off point and my motorcycle is—” “Ok, ok, I get it. Oh! A baby carrier!” “What?!” Yuuri was starting to feel hot. “A baby carrier! The thing dads use to carry babies on their chest! You can sort of make one with your utility belt and—” “My grappling hook!” “Exactly!” “Christ,” Yuuri spat as he scrambled to undo his utility belt and whip out his grappling hook. He set both on the ground and reached in the container to heft the ruby out. For his enhanced strength, it was nothing, but it was still wide, further confirming Yuuri’s fear of being unable to climb out of the truck with it. He rested the flat side to his stomach and reached down for the grappling hook. He hastily extended the cord from the gun and wrapped it around himself. “Dropoff point approaching in two minutes.” “Shit, I know, that’s not helping!” he snapped as he managed to tie a sloppy knot behind his back, the claws of the hook poking his hip. He snatched up the utility belt next and fumbled it across his shoulder. Then, the ruby fell from its restraints, sliding away from him. “Fuck!” “What happened?” “Quiet, I need to focus!” Yuuri chased the gem into a corner and scrambled it back up his body onto his chest and tried to retie his grappling hook. He cursed in several languages as he fumbled through shoddy knots. This isn’t working, he thought, as the gem slid down his front again. He caught it in his hands this time. “You’ve got one minute, you need to do something.” “I know!” His hands felt sweaty. He tried to work with the utility belt first this time. He fastened it and reached down for the grappling hook when a pair of matte black boots slammed down in front of him. He was overcome with a familiar heat. He was only vaguely aware of the ruby slipping down his front and sliding far away from him. Slowly rising, he thought about what it felt like to fall in dreams and suddenly felt like he was plummeting as he locked eyes with Winter Torch. * This mission was very last minute. It was supposed to be boring. The armored truck was already halfway to its destination but Yakov got a call requesting last minute protection. Just as insurance. But there was a hole in the roof of the truck. And there was Red Specter. Standing. In front of an empty case. But there was a ruby behind Victor. Red was right there. He hadn’t expected this, Red wasn’t supposed to be here… how did he get here?! They were in the middle of nowhere! There wasn’t a vehicle in sight. And now they were just looking at each other. But Victor had to act, had to bring him in, just like Yakov told him to. He couldn’t move… why couldn’t he move? He lifted his arm—ah, he was just in shock— so he could make a flame. He blinked and a head splitting pain blossomed on the entire left side of his face. Everything went black.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
A bowl of adrenaline soup tipped over and surged through Yuuri’s veins. His grip on his motorcycle was so tight he thought his skin was melting into the rubber. He couldn’t breathe. His brain was on fire. He needed to get home. It took all of his will power not to run through red lights. Finally, he was back. He rushed up the stairs, and the adrenaline was still rushing through him, his heart beating itself to a hum. His vision too sharp but still swimming. It took too long for him to unlock his apartment door, and when he did, he couldn’t stay still.
That was Winter Torch. He was right there. That was Winter Torch.
He paced the apartment, trying to work off the extra energy, but he kept thinking about the one image that was like the nuclear fuel to his panicked imaginations: the hard, shimmering face and electric eyes of the world’s best hero, inches from his own, seconds from taking away everything that mattered to him. He thought about those terrible ten seconds— the moment Yuuri realized Victor was raising his hand. Raising his hand against him. A choked sound punched its way out of his throat and he was shocked to find that tears were falling down his cheeks. He felt so trapped, as if he were on trial and Orion’s jewel was strapped to his chest. He could still feel the jewel’s weight on his skin. He could feel it on his fingers. The red glare was burned in his eyes and it all made him choke on any defense he could possibly make for himself. The door opened and closed so quickly that it only made one sound and suddenly, Phichit was there. “Hey, Yuuri, what happened? Why are you—hey, stop moving,” Phichit said, grabbing Yuuri’s elbow, but Yuuri jerked out of his grip and kept pacing. “Yuuri, talk to me.” “He was there.” “Who?” “Phichit, I can’t do this, I can’t do this, I can’t do this—” “Can’t do what?” The lights went out all at once, and Phichit was gently guiding him to the floor. They sat in the kitchen, facing each other in the dark. Yuuri rocked anxiously while Phichit rubbed his shoulders. “Talk to me. Who was there?” “Winter Torch,” Yuuri whispered. “What?! He—but I didn’t… well what happened?!” “He came in the way I came in. Phichit, I messed up. I didn’t get the ruby. It was just too big and now it’s still on the truck. Now we can’t complete the shield! I screwed it up before we even started!” “Hey, Yuuri, no! It’s gonna be ok, I promise!” “How can you even say that?!” Yuuri dragged his hands through his hair in frustration. “The job is to get the ruby and bring it back to Lam. Not only did I not get it, I lost it in front of Winter Torch, the actual worst case scenario! There’s no coming back from that!” “No, Yuuri, you don’t get it! This is still a win for us!” “Phichit,” Yuuri groaned, “don’t try to pacify me.” “I’m not! Listen, and I mean actually listen to me,” he snapped when Yuuri buried his face in his hands. “That ruby was on its way to one of the most heavily guarded facilities in the nation. Several layers of hi-tech security, a complex system of underground bunkers, weapon systems, the whole nine. Yes, the best case scenario was that you get the ruby from the truck. But, the actual worst case scenario would be if you didn’t manage to get your hands on that ruby.” “What are you talking about,” Yuuri grumbled, rubbing the tears off his cheeks. “Yuuri, you have a danger profile now, which means whenever you commit a crime, anything you touch goes directly into the vault.” “The what?” “The vault. It’s like the evidence room at police stations for regular criminals. But, it’s a safety hazard to submit evidence from super powered crime scenes to regular police stations, so they go to the vault.” “I’m still not seeing how that’s a win, Phichit.” “Because I’d take on the vault’s security over that other hi-tech super dungeon any day. You can easily steal that ruby back. And you actually have time and intel this time. We were both going into this completely blind, Yuuri. But now, the odds are in our favor.” “That… that still doesn’t make sense,” Yuuri shook his head. “If that other holding facility was so amazing, wouldn’t it make sense to just let the ruby go there instead of putting it in the vault?” “Well… yeah it would make more sense from our perspective, but people tend to put their trust in heroes before they put it in tech. Heroes guard the vault, and tech guards the facility.” “Yeah, ok, that’s exactly why this is a worst case scenario! Phichit! I can’t go up against a bunch of heroes! Are you insane?!” “But you did today, Yuuri! Not to mention, you got out of it without a scratch on you! And be honest with me Yuuri,” he pleaded as Yuuri suddenly stood up. “What would you rather do? Fight? Or hack and fight? And I should mention you would be hacking with next to no information. This facility is FBI- level off the grid. It pains me to say this, but there’s only so much I can do.” “Phichit, this is too much.” “No it’s not. It’s a lot, but it’s not too much. You are way more capable than you give yourself credit for. And you’re not doing this alone. Today was unexpected, but it didn’t set us back.” Yuuri felt tired. His shoulders slumped and his body felt way too heavy so he sank back to the floor and rolled onto his back. Phichit stretched out next to him. At least he was tired now—the toxic adrenaline finally out of his system. He would take exhausted over dangerously wired any day. “Phichit, what am I gonna do?” “For now? Rest. Maybe we can order some food to celebrate your first win against Winter Torch.” Yuuri snorted. “Still, I ask, you call that a win?” “Hell yeah. That was the Winter Torch. How did you do it? Wait!” He sat up so fast it made Yuuri dizzy. “Did you use your power?” “No.” “Oh…” “I mean… I almost did. I wanted to. It was my first instinct,” he admitted, and Phichit leaned in eagerly, “but once I felt it bubbling up inside me I… panicked.” “...and?” “I… smashed his face into a wall.” “You,” Phichit gasped and covered his mouth. “You smashed his face into a wall?” “What was I supposed to do?!” Yuuri felt stung. “I—I didn’t say anything! I’m just shocked! You… Yuuri, you smashed his face into a wall?”
“I’m sorry!”
“Why are you apologizing?!” Phichit asked and Yuuri sprang to his feet and started pacing. “I don’t know! You made me feel bad!” “I’m not judging you, Yuuri! You did what you had to do!” “I did!” “And it worked!” “Yeah!” “He would’ve arrested you if you hadn’t!” “Yes! And he was going to do something too! I saw him move his hand!” Yuuri blurted as if revealing some damning evidence in a court case. Phichit nodded. “He was going to use his fire!” Phichit nodded again and a strange look crept on his face. “What?” Yuuri asked and laughter ripped out of Phichit like a wave. “What?!” “I—I’m sorry, Yuuri, I’m sorry,” he cackled, trying hard to swallow his laughter. “Oh my god,” Yuuri whispered feebly and grabbed his hair, “I smashed Winter Torch’s face into a wall.” And Phichit was overcome with a fresh fit of giggles. “Oh my god, what if I hurt him? He doesn’t have super strength! I need to get to the hospital just in case.” “Woah there,” Phichit sped in front of Yuuri, still giggling. “What are you doing?” “Victor isn’t good with doctors so I have to—” “Yuuri, this isn’t his first fight. They don’t call him the world’s best hero just because he’s pretty. He’s tough as nails made of Pandora’s Iron. He’ll be alright. I’m sure you’re not the first person to smash his face into a wall. I bet this is just another Tuesday for him.” “Oh my god…” again, Yuuri sank to the floor, feeling defeated. “It’s alright, bud. I’m gonna order McDonald’s. How does that sound?” Yuuri moaned. “So bad but so good.” * “Tell me again. What happened?” Yakov drummed his fingers on his folded bicep and scowled at Victor. They were in his office and it felt like a cramped box. “The helicopter dropped me off,” Victor said for the third time. “I noticed a hole on the top of the truck. I entered the truck through that hole. The suspect—” “Red Specter.” Victor closed his eyes and nodded. “Yes. He was bending over to pick something up. He—” “Pick what up?” “I don’t know, Boss,” Victor said, because in moments like this, Yakov wasn’t Yakov the adopted father. He was Boss, the seasoned hero, the law’s first gavel. His superior. “I didn’t see it.” Yakov narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean, you didn’t see it?” “I was focusing on the suspect’s face and the ruby that was strapped to his chest. The suspect—”
“Red Specter.”
“Correct,” Victor said,” and he stood up, making the ruby fall.” “And. Then what happened, Winter Torch?” Victor let out a ragged breath. “The sus— Red Specter, knocked me out and escaped.” There was a long silence in which Yakov stared at Victor, arms crossed, fingers still drumming his bicep. Victor closed his eyes and waited. “Quick reflexes on that one, don’t you think?” Victor didn’t say anything. “As soon as you entered the truck, he acted before you even had the chance to do anything. You had him cornered. In an armored truck. Where the only escape was up through a hole the size of a head. Nothing you could’ve done.” Victor was still silent. Waiting. “Winter Torch. I am waiting for you to tell me what disease came over your brain that prevented you from apprehending Red Specter today, but I’m starting to realize that I don’t want to hear it,” he hissed. “Get your head on straight. I never want to hear a report like this— a rookie’s screw up —from you about anything ever again. This is embarrassing! Incapacitated by a two star thief! Knocked out in less than a minute! I have heroes in the field who started last week who have done far better against far stronger adversaries! And the one credit that should be owed to you is actually just dumb luck, isn’t it?! The ruby that Red Specter tried to get away with was just too big for him to carry. You didn’t even stop him from taking it!” “I never said I did, Boss.” “No! You don’t say a word! You listen! I gave you a job. An easy one. I expect you to do it. What’s happening in this city right now is far more important than whatever errant distraction came across you today. You get your mind right and you do it quick before someone gets hurt,” Yakov stormed before stalking out of his own office and slamming the door. Victor let go of a breath he had been holding since he entered Yakov’s office. He sank into the chair next to him and rubbed his jaw as it was still tender from his encounter with Red. He took just a second too long to think and he was out like a light. He forgot what it was like to feel like that in the field, like a deer in the headlights, trapped and wrong-footed. It was almost refreshing in the strangest, worst possible way. It was so bad. And what made it worse was that he had a feeling Red was just as caught off guard as he was. He remembered seeing Red, clutching the gigantic ruby to his stomach like a strange, luminous baby and then freezing like a child caught stealing cookies at night. Victor laughed and once he started he couldn’t stop. What on Earth is wrong with you? He shouldn’t feel this way because it wasn’t funny… it shouldn’t be funny. They were both dumbstruck in the moment but only Red, the two star thief, was able to act. Victor wiped away a tear and stood up to leave. Maybe that said more about Red’s potential than it did about Victor’s lack of ability. Yakov was still right, though. He needed to get his head on straight. No more getting distracted. *
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
4:50A.M. Breakfast. 5:10A.M. Workout. 5:55A.M. Meeting with pigeon-horse smugglers in Minsk, Belarus.
It was a dull meeting. They all smelled like cheese. The pigeon horse kept staring at him. Phichit made a mental note to tell Yuuri later that the Minsk smugglers all smelled like cheese.
6:45A.M. Exchanges in Calcutta.
Phichit had several buyers to meet in Calcutta to exchange everything from diamonds to rabbit-gators. Each meeting was quick. He didn’t spend more than ten minutes at each one. He left Calcutta with roughly thirty-five thousand dollars.
7:30A.M. Meeting with Scavenger.
Scavenger was having a tough time. He was by no means Phichit’s favorite or even in his top ten, but this was just sad, he thought as he watched Scavenger’s slightly flattened ears and despondent claws drumming against his bicep. He had his ass kicked twice by Yuuri and then he got roughed up by Winter Torch. Phichit offered him a job far away from where Yuuri would be in the coming month. Something easy with little to no hero traffic. He made another mental note to tell Yuuri how funny big furry mutants look when they’re sad. He was starting to question his morals for feeling empathy for an arsonist/thief. Oh well.
7:50A.M. Head back to the apartment for second breakfast with Yuuri.
Yuuri made the best pancakes. Crispy edges and fluffy center. He wondered how he would feed himself when he had to start sprinting through time… He pushed the thought out of his mind and told Yuuri about the smelly smugglers and Scavenger. He laughed at Yuuri’s guilty expression: pouting face and cheek resting on his fist. I just feel like I keep targeting him. Phichit assured Yuuri that it wasn’t his fault that Scavenger was having shitty luck.
8:25A.M. Debrief with Yuuri about second piece of Orion.
Yuuri seemed focused. He’s always focused, paying attention to the smallest details, but it’s different this time, like he’s planning his last heist. He asked about every eventuality, every possible outcome and alternative and made back up plans for his back up plans. It was also very likely that Yuuri was still rattled about his encounter with Winter Torch. He was being careful in more ways than one. But, in a way, Phichit guessed it was actually their last heist. He had promised that Yuuri could retire after getting the Shield of Orion for Lam and it seemed like Yuuri believed him. But Yuuri thought he was retiring because of the payout. He would actually be retiring because Phichit was working to make sure that Fujiwara could never touch Yuuri again. They already got one Orion piece to Victor. He said it before — one piece and they were in the clear...or two pieces. Two was better than one, right?
10:30A.M. Call Victor.
Phichit hung up on the first ring.
*
Victor was in his apartment, stirring a cup of tea when his phone rang. But it stopped as soon as he reached for it. He eyed it, shrugged, and then turned to the couch when an origami crane gently nudged his cheek. “Aah! Son of a—” He jumped and dropped his cup, but it didn’t shatter. The floating crane caught it on its back—a precarious save—and offered it up to Victor who hesitantly accepted. “Er… what… what do you want,” he asked, feeling stupid. The crane flitted up and nudged his cheek again so Victor set the cup down and opened his hands. The crane settled down in his opal palms. He had powered up on instinct without realizing it. Victor looked over his shoulder as if someone would jump out from behind the sofa with an origami gun. Nothing. The little crane wiggled in his palm. “Should I… open you?” The crane wiggled its wings hopefully so, with trembling fingers, Victor undid the folds. It was an official looking notice, not typed, but cut out like a delicate stencil. Victor held it up against the dark grey refrigerator for better contrast.
Dear Winter Torch,
I am writing to introduce myself, as I have recently joined History Maker as the Executive Assistant to this organization’s senior heroes: Boss, Iron Angel, and Baker. As this organization continues to grow, so does the amount of responsibility. Part of my job includes making communication between you and other heroes easier. Even though I work directly under and for the senior heroes of History Maker, I will still be able to provide certain services to you. If you have any questions, please feel free to contact me or stop by my new office on the first floor. I look forward to working with you.
Sincerely,
Cao Bin
P.S. The crane will fold itself back up when you put it down.
Sure enough, when he set the letter down on the kitchen counter, it folded itself neatly back up along its original creases before scampering off in the direction of his bedroom. Whoever this Cao Bin was, had an impressive ability. Victor wondered exactly what it was: animation or some kind of conjuring ability. Still, he didn’t think that letter was much of an introduction so much as it was a statement of existence. It didn’t matter, though. He guessed it was the thought that counted. Suddenly, his phone started buzzing on the kitchen counter. He looked at the ID. Yakov. “Hello,” he answered immediately. “Suit up. I’ve got a lead that there’s an illegal arms deal happening in the Blue Mountains. I don’t want you to go in guns blazing. Do some recon and try to get names and places before you bring them in.” “Roger.” *
2:30P.M. Second lunch in Salta, Argentina.
He liked the cafes here. He hesitated to say he was a tourist, but he was definitely 1000% a tourist.
3:45P.M. Head back to Spring Gate for Blue Mountain heist.
Yuuri had bought a big backpack and a fluffy coat. He was ready.
3:50P.M. Call Victor.
* Victor truly admired the engineers who made his super suit. The Blue Mountains were freezing but the nanotech in his suit adapted to his environment, keeping him completely warm. If it were nighttime, he thought ruefully, the mountains wouldn’t be a problem at all. His fire on the other hand was tricky in these conditions. Too much and he could cause an avalanche, too little and his opponents could overwhelm him. He could do so much with his powers at night, but he would just have to make do. After all, he was by no means new to this. He followed a hiking trail, then—following the intel Yakov had given him— he strayed off course, scaling rocky, snowy ledges. His muscles began to ache, and even in the snow, he felt hot. He tried to distract himself and thought about Makkachin’s fuzzy face. He also wondered how many people would be at this arms deal. That would be important for bringing them back down. Oh! Maybe he could call in a helicopter! He didn’t fancy climbing back down. It took what seemed like ages before he could tell he was close. The Blue Mountain was nothing but rock, snow and precarious plateaus. Victor stooped on one of the plateaus to catch his breath before standing up again. He knew history tended to repeat itself, but he’d never seen it happen so fast. It was Red Specter. Again. And he was standing, again, as if caught by a scolding parent. The fire on Victor’s head crackled. Red took a cautious step back as Victor slowly raised his fiery fists. “You know you never struck me as the hiking type, Red,” Victor teased, testing the thief out. His heart was pounding. “Great exercise though.” Red shrugged but didn’t move. He seemed to be standing his ground. Or weighing his options. His hand moved, making Victor tense, but he was just adjusting his backpack. Victor noticed its size—whatever Red had stolen must be inside. Another melon sized ruby? His eyes narrowed at Red who, Victor had just noticed, was wearing a large fluffy parka. Victor smirked and took another step forward. Red stepped back. Good. If he was looking in front of him, he wouldn’t notice what was behind him... “Nice parka,” he said. “Where’d you get it,” he asked conversationally, eyeing a spot far behind Red and making it spark into small flames. The fire made the snow around it melt which suddenly made Victor aware of the bare rock beneath him where there had been snow just a minute ago. He would need to be careful. Without so much as batting an eye, he willed the flame to shrink and creep closer to Red. The thief rolled his head back as if exasperated by Victor’s question. Victor needed to keep him distracted. “I’m serious! Where?” Red seemed to hesitate before lifting his index fingers above his head, raising and lowering them as if pointing. Victor glanced up, confused but there was nothing but more mountain. The fire was still creeping closer to Red like a tiny snake. Almost there. “I’m sorry, what was that?” Red pointed again, tugged his parka, then pointed at the sky again. He had no idea what this was. If it was a power, it wasn’t working. Red Specter was far too smart for this to be a trick… the flame was almost to his ankles. A little at a time… he didn’t want to spook him into going on offense. Red shifted on his feet and tried a few steps closer. Shit. Victor stepped closer too, to show he wasn’t scared, which made Red stop, but he was further away from the flame now. Then, for no reason, it clicked. “Are you speaking sign language?” Red nodded. For a second, Victor forgot about the flame. “Ah, I’m rusty, though! Could you do it again,” Victor pleaded, trying to sound genuinely interested. If he was being truthful, he was. He wondered if Red genuinely needed sign language or if he was just using it to protect his identity…but he still made the flame snake closer, silently melting the snow as it came. Red began to circle around him so Victor followed suit. They were dancing, and Victor guessed that the thief wasn’t going to make this easy. He could take Red down, but he would have to bring the mountain down with him. He smiled. “Just once more. For me?” As he paced, Red pointed again, but this time slower, more deliberate. Victor pressed a finger to his lips, thinking. Up...sky… sun… “Oh, Walmart?” He asked, thinking of the yellow logo. Red shook his head, still slowly circling. “Thank goodness. That’s no place to shop for clothes. Well, let’s see,” he pondered loudly, trying to cover up the sound of hissing steam as he rushed the fiery snake closer to Red’s ankles. Sky… sun… not Walmart though… clouds… moon… stars… “Oh,” Victor snapped his fingers and the flame grew, “Macy’s!” Red nodded. “Still not that much better, is it?” In an instant, the fire snapped up, and circled around Red’s ankle like a shackle making the thief jump. A chain of fire sprung from the Earth and connected to the shackle, tethering him to the spot. Victor smiled gleefully. The flames rolling off him glowed a bright white. “Careful, he said. “It’s hot,” and he stalked closer, confident now that Red was trapped. He looked it too— a deer in a snare, looking down at his ankle and back to Victor. It was useless though, unless he wanted to get burned. Victor was close enough to touch Red—maybe even take the mask off— when, suddenly, the thief lurched sideways with a yelp. Victor stopped, stunned. There was no way he hadn’t burned himself. The flames were small but they were hot-hot. Red stumbled further away from Victor, tripped and fell hard on the rocks. “I still don’t understand though,” he said as the flames on him spiked and fumed, all pretenses dropped, “why someone who has stolen millions of dollars’ worth of rubies would shop at Macy’s of all places.” Red scrambled backwards, sliding on his bottom as Victor got closer and closer. “What are you even spending the money on if you aren’t treating yourself?” He aimed another chain of fire at Red’s wrist but he threw himself out of the way and limped to his feet. Snow hissed and puffed into steam around them. Victor lifted a flaming hand, trying to decide how best to trap Red, when static buzzed in his ear. “Victor, what’s your ETA?” It was Yakov. Victor’s shoulders slumped as he was wrenched back into reality. Right. He was on a job. But this was still his responsibility, he thought, eyeing Red Specter whose chest was heaving as he swiveled his head in every direction, clearly looking for a way out. What was he supposed to do? The arms deal was surely almost over. He would miss it if he risked continuing fighting. But this was Red Specter. Right here. Right now. And finally cornered. “Victor? I asked what your ETA was. Are you there?” “I—” A flash of silver and black whisked past Victor’s eye. He didn’t even have the chance to blink and Red Specter had vanished. Victor’s heart pounded in relentless shock. His mind tried to make sense of what happened, replaying impossibly fast images at a slower rate. That damned grappling hook. He turned in circles. “Victor?! Answer me!” He looked up, searching the endless expanse of snow and rock.
“Victor!”
Red Specter was gone. Again. “Victor, if you can hear me, I’m sending an extraction team, now so just—” “Yakov, I’m fine,” Victor said. His voice sounded strange to him. He tried to ignore his confusion but he knew it was useless. Sooner or later, he would have to think about why, for the first time, he was feeling guilt and worry after hurting his opponent. * The minute Yuuri got back to his apartment, he dropped the backpack and ripped everything off his body. His leg was on fire. “Aagh!” A strangled cry finally escaped him as he dropped on the sofa. He was trying to keep it in the whole way back home. He groaned and screwed his eyes shut, not quite ready to look at his leg. Albacore, Amberjack, Bluefin… he tried to ground himself but he couldn’t make it past Bluefin before starting over again from Albacore, again and again. He cried out again and pounded his fist on the arm rest. The wood in it snapped. This was unbearable. He needed a doctor, immediately. The emergency room. Dr. Chester could help him. He fumbled out blindly for his suit where he remembered his phone being but couldn’t find it. “Gaah, come on!” He shouted and opened his eyes to find it. Bleary eyed, he fumbled through the suit’s pockets when he noticed something. The pants leg where Victor burned him. For the most part, it was still intact. But his leg felt like the very bone had gone up in flames— the suit should’ve been more damaged than this! He looked down and found that his skin was only slightly red. “What the…” he touched it and gasped, tears swelling up in his eyes. Oh, it hurt all right. His breathing picked up as he tried not to panic. He couldn’t call Dr. Chester about this. This kind of injury couldn’t be easily explained away. But something was definitely wrong. He fell off the couch and crawled to his backpack. He thrust his hand in searching for something and yanked it out— the healing serum. Unstoppering it, he poured a few drops on the redness which instantly disappeared. But the pain didn’t. “No, no, no no.” Phichit opened the door and walked in, almost tripping over Yuuri. “Er, Yuuri, what are you doing? Why are you in your underwear?” Yuuri screamed in response. Phichit dropped to his knees next to him. “Yuuri?! What’s going on?!” “Kono kuso ashi!” His mind was too gone to fumble through English at this point. “W-what’s wrong with your leg?” Phichit followed suit in Japanese, “I don’t see anything!” “It fucking hurts!” “Well… where?!”
“It hurts!”
“Yeah! I see that! I just— can you at least tell me which one?!” “Right!” Phichit touched Yuuri’s leg and he howled. “Sorry!”
“Dammit!”
“Sorry! Yuuri! I don’t know what to do! There’s nothing wrong with it! Wait!” Phichit snapped his fingers and rushed somewhere and then back in a millisecond. He held something up and Yuuri shook his head frantically on the floor. “I already used the serum!” “What?! Yuuri, I don’t know what to do then! The serum heals all injuries, and if it didn’t work—” Yuuri cried out again. “How did this even happen? The last I spoke to you, you had just gotten the Orion piece!”
“Vi— Winter Torch!”
“W-what?! Again?!” Phichit muttered something and Yuuri’s eyes watered as he tried to suppress another scream. He just needed to fill his head with something else. Anything else. He thought wildly of pork cutlet bowls and willed his mind to stay there. On the eggs, pork, and rice. He imagined the biggest pork cutlet bowl possible, steamy, fresh, delicious. The smell of panko and mirin wafted invitingly and he could almost taste it. He saw chopped green onions on top of the crispy meat and silky yolk coating perfectly white rice. He thought of his mother serving it up, placing the enormous bowl in front of him. She was smiling. His mother made the best pork cutlet bowls. She rubbed Yuuri’s shoulder and told him to dig in. The bowl was way too big for just him. He asked to share it with her and she refused— it was for him. She made it especially for him. But he hadn’t earned it. He told her that and she shook her head saying he didn’t need to earn her love. She made this because she loved Yuuri. She wanted Yuuri to be happy. She kissed his cheek and rubbed his shoulder again. She just wanted Yuuri to be happy… “—let this pass...Yuuri? Are you crying?” Phichit murmured, concern in his voice. He grabbed Yuuri’s hand. “Look, I think I should take you to someone. Not a hospital, of course, but there are people that we can see. I know a guy in the Alps who—” “No, I’m fine,” he rasped. He pulled his mind firmly away from pork cutlet bowls and towards piano chords. “I’m going to bed.” he had barely finished the sentence when he felt cool sheets against his back and the give of his pillow beneath his head. He mouthed a thank you and balled up his fist, trying not to think about the pain. “I’m right here,” Phichit told him. “I’ll sleep in here with you. And if it still hurts tomorrow, I’ll take you to the Alps.” “To the prick.” “Yeah,” Phichit chuckled. “You remembered. I hate him but he’s actually pretty smart. He made the healing serum, after all. Just rest, Yuuri.” *
5:45P.M. Back home.
Yuuri scared the piss out of him. He didn’t really know what was wrong but he guessed it was part of Winter Torch’s ability. The flames hurt, but they didn’t do actual damage unless he wanted them to. It was just a guess, but it seemed like something the hero would do. Smart really, but they would know for sure when Yuuri woke up.
12:10A.M. Yuuri wakes up.
It took a little while for Yuuri to get to sleep. He closed his eyes as soon as he got in the bed, but Phichit could tell he was just waiting for the pain to ebb. Phichit had changed into PJs and laid down next to him, playing a game on his phone. Soon, Yuuri’s face seemed to relax, the lines between his eyebrows unfolding, and his mouth going slack with exhaustion. At around midnight, he suddenly sat up in bed. Phichit put his phone down and tried to meet Yuuri’s eyes. “How are you feeling, bud?” Yuuri jumped a little at the sound of Phichit’s voice. He gave him a strange look before groggily climbing out of bed. “I’m naked,” he grumbled and pulled a drawer open. Phichit sighed with relief and fell back on the bed. “Your doing, not mine,” Phichit reassured him. Yuuri grunted and pulled on a t-shirt and shorts before flopping back into bed. “I take it you feel better?” Yuuri grunted again and Phichit smiled. He must’ve been right then. He explained his theory to Yuuri, about Winter Torch’s power, and Yuuri nodded into his pillow. They laid in comfortable silence for a while, Phichit on his phone, and Yuuri resting his eyes. The best things about having a best friend, Phichit thought, were very small. They were easily forgotten. They happened with no words and in a small space, effortlessly comfortable, like putting on socks in winter. Circumstances aside, sharing the quiet of midnight with Yuuri while doing absolutely nothing, put Phichit at ease. “I had a dream about you,” Yuuri mumbled, interrupting the silence, though everything was still quite cozy. “Yeah? Have you finally discovered you have feelings for me, or what?” “I had that dream ages ago,” Yuuri played along, “but no. This dream was different. You were running. Really fast. But it was weird because it was all slowed down so I could see everything you saw. It was like I was in your head. Super crazy. People were standing still while you just shot right past them again and again. It was cool… seeing them getting older. But kind of creepy.” Phichit furrowed his eyebrows. “I never see things slowed down like that.” “Well, you wouldn’t, would you?” Yuuri said. “I imagine seeing the world through my eyes would be agonizingly slow. But… I guess my dream brain decided that if I were to see the world the way you see it, and like, really understand it, I would need it slowed down to a pace that I could work with. And it slowed it waaay down.” “So slow that…” Phichit hesitated, trying to follow Yuuri, “you saw people getting older?” “Yeah… well…” Yuuri scrunched up his eyes in concentration, “not like… progressively. Like, all at once. Like that theory that time isn’t real, and that everything that is happening, has happened, and will happen, is happening at the same time. But you get that,” Yuuri added in a teasing voice, “since you traveled through time before.” “I…” Phichit was baffled, “I honestly never thought about that before. I just… ran.” “You couldn’t really control where… or when you went that time?” “No. I mean I can’t go to a place I haven’t seen before,” Phichit scratched his head feeling like he wasn’t explaining it well enough. “At least not on purpose. And especially if that place hasn’t… happened.” Yuuri grinned and sat up. He was suddenly wide awake. “But you have seen that place before. It’s all happened before and is happening right now. At least according to the theory that time is a social construct.” Phichit sat up too. A light was slowly turning on his head and it was driving him insane. His thoughts fired at the force and speed of light so he wasn’t used to slow realizations. But he needed this. “So… what you’re saying is that right now, in this room, I should be able to see what happened yesterday… and what will happen tomorrow. I should… I should see you waking up this morning, see you sitting here right now… see you leaving for breakfast tomorrow…” “Exactly. You should see infinite images of me all at once,” Yuuri nodded. “I don’t know why, but I assumed that you see everything sped up, but that doesn’t make sense. You can only see the present me at the speed... or time that I’m currently in. You would have to see things the way I do or else you’d go crazy! If your perception was sped up, I would be eons too slow for you… or you would see too many versions of me if your perception was slowed down. Which means, if you actually did slow down your visual perception…” “I’d see future you...and…” “You’d see yesterday’s Yuuri too.” “In the same place.” “At the same time,” Yuuri snapped his fingers. “I think when you traveled in time,” he put air quotes around, still clearly dubious about the story Phichit told him, “your body wasn’t the only thing moving at an extreme speed. It was your perception of the world around you. But that perception wasn’t extremely fast.” “It was extremely slow,” Phichit muttered. He suddenly remembered how lightheaded he felt that day, how he felt as if he were losing control, his body running away without him. He moved so fast he felt like he was leaving himself behind… “So… you’re saying if I wanted to do that again, travel in time, I would need to adjust the speed of how I see things and then...what? Once I see the time I want to go to…” Yuuri rubbed his chin thoughtfully and closed his eyes. “Time,” he said, “is a construct… used to describe light and space and change. Those things are all just molecules. And those molecules are moving and moving and moving…” “So I just have to move!” “At the speed of light! Or faster. And you have to move right down to the last molecule. You have to vibrate until you’re not just present, but ever present. And then—” “Yeah,” Phichit whispered. A shiver trickled down his back. “And then I run into whatever time period I want.” “You don’t even need to run. You can just walk into history. Or the future,” he proclaimed with a smirk, then shrugged, “theoretically.” “Speed up my molecules.” “And slow down your mind.” “Then it’s back to the future...” Yuuri grimaced. “That kid had a weird thing going on with his mom and I wasn’t with it.” But Phichit wasn’t listening. Yuuri had figured it out, and all from a dream he had. All this time, Phichit assumed that he wasn’t going fast enough, but in reality, he needed to slow down. He had to focus on connecting with time. He suddenly felt very cold, all of his veins freezing over as if Winter Torch were knocking on the window. It was the realization that it was very, very possible that Winter Torch was actually knocking on the window but in a different time. The realization that if he just relaxed his mind and focused, he could see it happening. He could see something that no one else could… at least not at the time they were stuck in. They would have to wait for it to happen. But Phichit could experience it all. Right then. Right there. It was like his visual perception was at zero but he still needed to bump it down to a negative one to see things more clearly. “I think there’s a reason why I had that dream though,” Yuuri said, making Phichit’s breath catch in his throat. He kept a straight face though. “Yeah?” he said. “Mmm. I think subconsciously, I was thinking about what you would’ve done if you were in the same situation as me today. If you were cornered by Winter Torch on that mountain.” “Oh,” Phichit said. This isn’t where he thought the conversation would go, but he wasn’t complaining. And he was surprised that Yuuri thought of him that way. He couldn’t help but smile. “You think I’d speed up my molecules so I can go kick old Vicky’s butt in a retirement home? Smart. He’s an easier target as a senior citizen.” Yuuri smirked again and shook his head. “No, but close. You would fight. The next time Victor corners me, I’ve decided...I’m not going down without a fight. I… I’ll try to avoid it at all costs, but if I have to fight, if he gets my back against a wall, I will. That’s the way it has to be if I’m going to continue protecting my family.” “Well…” “He almost had me today, Phichit. I don’t know why he hesitated. He had this weird look on his face, like he just remembered something… and I had the world’s smallest opening for an escape. I’ll never be lucky like that again.” Phichit nodded. Yuuri was right. If Victor really wanted to, he could tear Yuuri down. But that was only if Yuuri let him. Yuuri yawned and flopped back into bed, pulling the sheets up to his chin. Phichit wondered just how strong Yuuri could get. He tried to imagine Yuuri at his peak, standing against Victor, arguably the best hero that ever was. “Ah, by the way,” Yuuri mumbled, already falling asleep again, “thanks for doing the dishes. I’ll do them tomorrow.” “Oh, yeah,” Phichit said, and suddenly, he understood. He turned over so Yuuri couldn’t see his face. “Don’t worry about it.” One day of using a journal like Yuuri suggested, thirty minutes of just picking Yuuri’s brain, and he already figured out why he was forgetting so many things. Those things just hadn’t happened yet.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Phichit chewed his lip to keep himself from breaking his downward dog position. He was certain he wasn’t doing it right because his leg kept shaking, just itching to move . He was not good at going slow, but he was almost certain Yuuri was right. He needed to work on slowing his mind down. He imagined it should be like sitting still and noticing the dust motes floating in front of you. Yuuri told him that yoga might help him slow down and relax, but it was only riling him up. The less he moved his body, the more he noticed about the world around him. The faucet was leaky and the refrigerator vibrated as it hummed. There was something quite small living in the walls. He could hear it scuttling. Angry dad-neighbor was pacing next door. Or perhaps just making lunch. Definitely lunch. The scrape of a plate on a table. Silver knives clinking on the plate. The windows squeaked when the wind hit it. There was a whistle in the air. From the vents. And those vents breathed a bit too harshly and Phichit could hear the metal expand if he tore his attention away from the small scuttling thing for half a second... Of course, Phichit thought with just an ounce of jealousy, Yuuri was great at this. They had pushed their sofa and table aside to make more space in the living room. Yuuri had not broken a single pose and was now doing an impressive wheel, eyes closed, face tranquil. Phichit didn’t want to move on until he could be still for at least thirty seconds in downward dog, but it was proving to be useless. He groaned and fell on his stomach. Even that didn’t faze Yuuri who kept his eyes closed. Figures . At least one of his questions had been answered. The forgetfulness. Phichit had done all those things-- bought coffee, left those notes-- but in the future. And it wasn’t hard to guess why: he was leaving hints for himself, hints that it was time to leave. They were subtle enough to not disrupt the timeline and bold enough for him to take notice. At least he knew that he was very capable of travelling through time and that he was right about it being almost time for him to actually do it. He hadn’t told Yuuri about this… but it was Yuuri’s idea to work on slowing his mind down. He seemed excited about the idea of helping Phichit so he accepted. He just didn’t have the concentration power for this.
He rolled over onto his side and rested his cheek on his fist. Yuuri kicked into a graceful handstand then landed on his feet before sitting down, legs crossed in front of Phichit. He smiled. “This isn’t working, is it?” He asked. Phichit shook his head. “Nope.” “Wanna get Subway?” “Yup. I already know your order, I’ll just go,” Phichit said, and he grabbed his wallet, rushed out of the apartment, up the highway, and to the sub shop in the same breath.
* “Victor, I know why you’ve been moody,” Yakov grumbled over his menu. They were at Waffle House, much to Victor’s distaste, but Yakov loved the All Star here. Yuri was supposed to be meeting them for lunch and an apology. Yesterday, Victor had caught over a dozen people at the arms deal in the Blue Mountains. Yakov was also pleased with the thorough intel Victor had gathered for him too. Another job done perfectly. Except for Red Specter. Who was cornered, injured, and at a huge disadvantage, but still managed to escape. Again. He hadn’t told Yakov, because how could he. Victor gave him a bright smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “What do you mean, Yakov?” “Don’t try to fool me, Victor, I’ve known you since you were a child. Something’s wrong.” Victor simply raised an eyebrow and turned his menu over, looking for something that wasn’t swimming in oil. “It’s about the avalanche, isn’t it? If you can even call it that. You did your job,” Yakov whispered as he glanced around them. “considering your abilities and your environment, it couldn’t be helped. There were no damages or casualties so you should count that as a win.” “I should’ve done something,” Victor said before he could stop himself. Of course, this wasn’t about the avalanche at all. It happened right after Red disappeared, no doubt a direct cause of Victor playing with fire. He was frustrated. He was frustrated that he felt frustrated because what he was feeling-- a relentless barrage of conflicting emotions-- was not appropriate for a hero of his caliber. He had let Red go again, and now he was worried that he may have gotten carried away and seriously injured him. He didn’t need to use excessive force with a two star thief, but he was almost positive his flames left a mark. It must’ve been written somewhere that a hero shouldn’t be brooding about whether or not he hurt his opponent, but, then again, was that even true? Wasn’t it more heroic to be worried about everyone’s wellbeing? Or was it specifically Red Specter that he was worried about? Why should he even be worried about Red? He snapped the menu aside with more force than was necessary and Yakov gave him a sympathetic look. “You’re too hard on yourself, Vitya. I’m partly to blame for that.” “Wow,” Victor said with a small smile, a real one this time. “Are you actually admitting some fault?” Yakov shrugged and set his menu down too. “You’re a great hero. I think you know that. So… just relax and accept when you’ve done a good job.” Three hours passed, bringing with it three cups of coffee, an All Star, whole wheat toast for Victor, a few extra glasses of artificial orange juice, and no Yuri. Yakov didn’t say anything about the matter, but paid the bill and whistled a low tune as he walked out of Waffle House with Victor. * Yuuri went to pole dancing classes twice a month when time permitted and, recently, time was doing no such thing. What with his irregular nurse shifts and night heists, he was either too busy or too tired for his secret(ish) hobby. But, he had some rare free time and he was actually feeling up to it for the first time in a long time. No bruises from mutants, no gem-dragon bites, no magical burns, no injuries whatsoever. He walked with a spring in his step then tripped when he saw Chris across from him in the parking lot. “Kuso,” he hissed and immediately turned around, making a beeline back to his motorcycle. Nope, nope, nope. Not today. He had completely forgotten where he had known Dick Cartier from. He was almost to his motorcycle. “Hey! Yuuri!” Fuck. He turned around and put on a natural smile. “Hey!” Chris beamed and waved at Yuuri before jogging over to him. He was wearing a purple tank top and leggings, his duffle bag slung over his shoulder. It was still difficult for him to imagine Chris as the world class thief who hurled filing cabinets at him all those weeks ago. Yuuri continued to smile naturally. “Long time no see! Where’ve you been, cutie?” Definitely not robbing a bank, if that’s what you mean. “Ah, just busy with nurse shifts,” Yuuri said. Chris glanced at Yuuri’s motorcycle. “Are you… are you coming in today?” “Oh, er, I actually wanted to, which is why I’m here, but then I remembered that I forgot something.” “You remembered that you forgot…?” “Yep. At home. I forgot it. My… er… I actually have a doctor’s appointment today,” he rambled. He could feel his cheeks betraying him as they often did and Chris narrowed his eyes in an amused but befuddled sort of smile. “Are you all right?” “Yeah! I just... my head is all over the place these days. Sorry.” “Are you sure you’re ok? You’re almost as pink as Winter Torch is when he looks at you.” “What are you talking about?” Yuuri asked, and he winced at how high pitched he sounded. Chris laughed. “That picture of you with him on Insta. The flames change color, you know. I’ve never seen pink until that picture. By the way, what was it like meeting him? Did you like him?” “I didn’t meet him!” Yuuri blurted. Chris furrowed his eyebrows at that and before Yuuri could be questioned, he backtracked. “I mean, it wasn’t a real meeting. He was injured and needed help. I didn’t really get to know him. At least not the real him. I mean… he was nice.” “That’s...uh… good,” Chris nodded, clearly trying to not seem perturbed. “Well, I’m sorry you have to miss another class. We miss you in there.” Yuuri hummed and nodded but let Chris continue. “Anyway, I actually have a question for you.” “Uh-huh?” “My best friend’s birthday is coming up in December. It’s actually on Christmas, so I understand if you already have plans, but I was wondering if you’d like to come?” “Uh...me?” Chris laughed again, “Yeah, you. He’s new in this country so he’s still meeting new people. His job kind of makes that difficult. I wanted to introduce him to some people who are actually interesting and attractive and not serial killers,” he grinned. “Oh, uh, yeah, mhmm. Me,” he nodded, and immediately regretted it, though Chris didn’t seem to mind. Was being a secret jewel thief attractive? Chris was attractive so he guessed that was something… or was that his jewel thief brain just telling him that Chris was attractive? “Do you think you can come?” “Yeah, why not?” He hoped he would be done stealing the pieces of Orion by then. Because that would be an excellent “why not”. “Great. I’ll text you the invite with the information,” he purred and pulled out his phone. Yuuri took his phone out when it chimed and smiled to let Chris know he got it. He probably needed a party to relax, maybe even relearn his socializing skills. Yuuri could even start fresh with Chris’ new friend-- someone who was new to America and had no prior knowledge of how awkward Yuuri was. He actually felt at ease as he opened the attachment, but then he promptly swallowed his tongue. Chris looked alarmed at Yuuri’s choking and patted him firmly on the back. “Are you ok?! Here,” he said, and procured his water bottle. Yuuri downed half of it and gave it back. “What happened?” “Just swallowed wrong,” he wheezed. “While breathing, love?” “Gotta get...doctor,” Yuuri shoved his phone back into his pocket and climbed onto his motorcycle.” “O-ok! Well, are we good on the birthday party?” Yuuri gave him a thumbs up and pulled his helmet on. Chris smiled, saluted him, and gave Yuuri space to pull out of the parking lot. The image of little silver and blue champagne glasses along with the words You Are Invited to Victor Nikiforov’s Birthday Celebration made him run several red lights on his way back to his apartment.
* It was rare that Victor’s meetings with Chris were so close together, but there he was, knocking silently on Victor’s window from the fire escape. Victor nodded at him from his desk and Chris used his power to unlatch the window from the outside. He climbed in and sat on Victor’s bed, crossed his legs. “You know,” Chris said as he studied his nails, “I was starting to worry about Yuuri Katsuki since he hadn’t been showing up to our classes, but he hasn’t changed a bit. He’s coming by the way. To your party.” Victor’s eyes widened at that and he swiveled away from Chris to hide his face. “Yeah?” “Mhmm. He said he liked you too. He thinks you’re nice. Well, he thinks Winter Torch is nice, but for those in the know, that’s the same thing.” Victor bit back his smile and pretended to organize his already immaculate desk. He had only met Yuuri Katsuki once, but he seemed so sweet that it made Victor’s heart melt a little. It was rare that anyone treated him, Victor, the way Yuuri had when Victor was Winter Torch. He always felt like some freakish pet in a fishbowl with people gawking, pointing, and tiptoeing around him. But Yuuri treated him like a normal person, even when he was hurling fireballs at him. Yuuri acted like a normal person around him too, acted like himself. And Yuuri said he liked Victor! He wondered what kind of people Yuuri “liked” and if he truly fit the bill. And what kind of physical things did Yuuri like? Victor’s hair was a weird color, but he couldn’t help that. Yuuri’s hair looked so soft… he loved Yuuri’s eyes too. So beautiful. They were so brown they were red, like honey or a ruby in the dark…
“S'il vous plaît, Victor!” Chris exclaimed. Victor jumped then huffed a sigh. “Po angliyski pozhaluysta,” Victor responded in Russian. “If you’re happy can you please just say it before I die of heat stroke?!” Victor swivelled back around to find Chris actually sweating and tugging at his shirt. As Chris ran to the window to open it, Victor was suddenly aware that he had powered up… sort of. it was just his head that was in flames, but he guessed it must’ve been stifling. “Sorry,” he mumbled, blushing as he got up to adjust the thermostat.
* “So… you’re gonna go, right?”
“Phichit!”
* It was Victor’s day off. The news from Chris was truly the cherry on top of a perfect day, which was so rare for him. As he went to bed early, he wondered, with a smile, what he had done to deserve something so perfect. He soon realized that he had spoken too soon. Not again he thought as he jolted awake . He was hyperventilating, breaths whisking out of a hollow chest. It was an old nightmare, but it never failed to freeze the blood in his veins. Him, Winter Torch, feeling cold. What a thought. But that was the core of his dream-- a coldness so severe that it burned and a darkness in a space so small that it closed around him as if he were in a pair of enormous, cupped hands, waiting to be crushed. The familiar sensation of feeling trapped crept up on him and he looked wildly for the door. “Makka!” He screamed, “here girl!” After a few seconds, Victor heard the comforting tinkling of Makkachin’s collar, the soft padding and scratching of her paws on the hardwood. She climbed up next to Victor and snuggled close to him, licking his chin. Victor pulled her closer to him, humming at the feeling of her soft warm fur. He felt better already, and soon fell into a mercifully dreamless sleep.
* Yuuri didn’t have any plans; now that the Lam deal was being finalized, Phichit advised him to save his energy for securing the rest of Orion. Going back to his pole dancing classes was obviously a bust. He was still reeling over the invite to Victor Nikiforov’s (WINTER TORCH’S) birthday party. He and Phichit had shrieked about if for almost an hour--incurring the wrath of angry dad neighbor-- as the realization of how Victor knew Yuuri hit them. Chris must’ve mentioned Yuuri to Victor in the past. And Chris was Victor’s best friend or, to put in terms that made Yuuri shiver, Winter Torch, the world’s top hero, was best friends with Dick Cartier, the world’s top jewel thief. As incredible as it was, he needed to lay low. And he needed a distraction from what Phichit was getting himself into tonight. He was meeting Lam. It was very possible that Yuuri was simply finding things to worry about, but he didn’t like what was happening. Lam owned a cottage in the Glory Woods. He was rarely ever there. It was an escape for him or—like now—a place for meetings. Lam was usually somewhere in Southern Asia or occasionally in Australia like before, but he had insisted on meeting Phichit in person to finalize their agreement. This made Yuuri uncomfortable. Until now, Lam had been content with Phichit speeding over to wherever he was in the world. Lam’s change of heart seemed innocent on the surface when Phichit had explained that it was simply a gesture of good will, but Yuuri still couldn’t shake the feeling that there was another reason Lam would come to America. Even so, Yuuri had reluctantly agreed to let Phichit meet Lam alone after his friend had laughed at him for “being such a momma bear.” “Honestly, it’s like you don’t know me at all,” Phichit chided. He was adjusting his matte black tie in Yuuri’s bathroom mirror, pointedly ignoring his friend’s annoyed reflection behind him. “I’ve done this a million times, and trust me, I know what I’m doing.” “I still can’t believe that you don’t think it’s weird that he would do this,” Yuuri said, although he knew he had already lost this battle. “Of course it’s weird. Everyone in the underworld is weird. But it’s the harmless kind of weird as long as you trust me.” “I think you’re clever and strong but I already told you I don’t like this,” he huffed, turning out of the bathroom as Phichit snickered to himself. After a while, he stepped out of the bathroom and threw a towel at Yuuri’s back. Yuuri swiveled around, determined to look stern. He was surprised to see that Phichit looked stern too. “I’m serious, Yuuri.” “What?” “You need to trust me. Don’t come after me. No matter what. I’ve got this.” “Yeah, I know.” Phichit sighed. “That’s not good enough, bud.” “What do you want from me then?” “Promise me you won’t come after me.” “Why? Do you know something I don’t? Spit it out.” “I can’t be sure… but I just have a feeling about this guy. I want to be careful.” “What kind of feeling,” Yuuri asked, knitting his brows together. “I told you, I don’t know. I just know I need to be as careful as possible. I don’t want to give Lam any reason to do something… off the wall.” “Like what?” Yuuri exclaimed, startled. “Look, Yuuri, I don’t have time for this, so please just promise me!” Yuuri frowned at him, and crossed stubborn arms over his chest. Phichit stamped an impatient foot. “I never give you crap about handling things on your own! Yuuri, you need to trust me !” “Fine!” He threw his hands up. “I promise I won’t follow you. You better be home on time.” Phichit looked relieved. “One o’clock sharp, dear. Why don’t you pick out something to wear to victor’s birthday party while I’m gone?” He winked and Yuuri rolled his eyes. The meeting with Lam Pok Chi was in the evening, and Phichit left five minutes before the start time. Yuuri knew that it was important to be early, but not so early that Phichit offended the client with shady implications. Yuuri felt restless and looked for something to do. His phone came to his rescue with his daily reminder to call Mari. He flopped down on his bed and dialed the number. “What’s your boyfriend’s name” was her greeting. “Takao.” “You…w—what… that’s not funny, Yuuri!” “It is to me!” “You wish Takao was your boyfriend.” “Yeah, so do you.” She heaved a dramatic sigh, “Yuuri, I know you’re busy being a sticky fingered thief, but you’re wasting your time. Call me back when you’re not single.” Dial tone. Yuuri blinked at his cell phone and, pouting, tossed it onto his bed before getting up to stretch. Guess he wasn’t calling his sister ever again.
Taking jobs was out. Phichit was definitely right about Victor's fire because, as far as Yuuri could tell, there wasn't any damage, but he still figured he should relax. Since he had nothing else to do, he fell into his old Grand Prix past time: playing the piano whilst reciting parts of the body. Flipping through his song book for something good, he decided to start with the muscles this time. He played the opening keys of “Mad World” and took a deep breath. Occipitofrontalis . He pushed thoughts about Victor’s birthday party out of his mind. It was far too ridiculous. Far too risky. He would apologize to Chris later. What he needed to focus on was Orion. That was what was important. When he tried to focus on Orion, he was surprised at how easy it was. His mind was filled with the fiery hue of the gems, filled with the check that lam would soon be writing him. Figuratively. He only accepted cash. Despite the shady circumstances, Yuuri was excited about the Shield of Orion. Just the thought of the gourd size ruby glittering in his closet set off a little flame in his chest. Even though it wasn't for him. His excitement stemmed from definitely more than just the ruby itself. Phichit had told him that he could retire early. His family would be free. He could finally pay off Fujiwara and get on with his life. He would actually have to think about himself for once. Yuuri couldn’t help but smile, but he sucked in a rattling breath to beat back the optimism. Temporoparientalis . Things were rarely so perfect. Lam was just another job, just another dent in the ditch he was trying to bury his past in. He would do it, and if it liberated his family, then so be it. If Fujiwara decided it wasn’t enough… well… then so be it. That’s the way things were right now. He would do whatever it takes to save his family. He was the only one who could do it.
Orbicularis oculi.
It didn’t matter how long it would take to save his family. After all, dreams were something that people with a future had. He thought he had a future when he was younger. He wanted to be a brain surgeon in America. He had started studying medicine when he was barely done being a toddler, and he continued out of necessity. He still remembered the day Ikki Fujiwara made him, Yuuri, his official doctor. A twelve year old boy.
Levator labii superior.
Yuuri was home from The Grand Prix Academy for the summer holidays. A few days into Golden Week, two men had burst into his parents’ house. They were struggling to drag a tall, burly man between them. Yuuri, who had been feeding Vicchan, heard the ruckus and peeked from the dining room to see the two men lay their friend on a kitchen counter. The burly man’s face was deathly pale and his front was shining with blood. One of the men carrying the dying man started barking orders which his companion and Yuuri’s parents obeyed. Sickened but intrigued, Yuuri inched closer. The man had been shot. The entry wound was close to his heart. He didn’t have much time left.
Orbicularis oris.
“Kazuya, does the boss know about this,” Yuuri’s dad asked. “He’s on his way now,” growled the man who had been giving orders, Kazuya. Yuuri thought he must be the doctor. “ Why he wasn’t wearing a vest, I will never know. Absolutely incompetent…” “Watch it,” the other man snapped. He was also pale, but Yuuri thought it was his natural complexion. Bald, lanky, with bloodshot eyes, Yuuri decided to avoid this man as he crept closer. “I told you to proceed with caution—to remember you’re still perfectly capable of dying.” The doctor had quickly sterilized himself and was now pulling silver tools out of a cooler. “But I guess you don’t need the extra protection now that you’re occupying most of Chiba prefecture, huh? It’s ok to waste all of my hard work, all of my priceless research?!” “I said watch it!” The burly man on the table moaned pitifully between them. “You said he was shot once,” the doctor mumbled, “but there are two wounds.” Deltoideus . Just then, the kitchen’s backdoor opened. A draft of cool air uncharacteristic of summer blew into the room as everyone looked at the newcomer. The kitchen was suddenly far too small, and Yuuri could not find a way out. He was rooted to the spot as he looked the new arrival in the face. His skin was pulled taught over his bones like he was barely alive, but he still looked as if he could crush a skull like a chunk of butter. He had a pinched, angry expression that couldn’t even be improved by a smile—his strong wing-like eyebrows made sure of that— and for some reason, he was dressed in an immaculate suit. Everyone present, even Kazuya with his finger in the dying man’s chest, bowed. This must be Ikki Fujiwara, Yuuri thought, because even at that age, he knew the name of the devil. Fujiwara sniffed and glided over to the man on the table. He placed a hand on the man’s head. “Ao…” he murmured and looked up at the other man who bowed a little again. “Who did this to him, Kubo?” The man named Kubo swallowed. “We think it was someone from a small gang in Fukuoda.” Fujiwara raised an eyebrow at that, a frightful wing taking flight. “We?” He was answered by Kubo’s small nod towards Ao bleeding out on the table. Fujiwara looked at Kazuya. “Will he die?” “Kubo should’ve called me sooner,” the doctor snapped as he tried desperately to fish one of the bullets out of Ao's chest. “He might not make it.” “Hmm.”
Trapezius.
Fujiwara reached in his coat. There was a sharp bang and a brief moment when everyone breathed the same breath. And the doctor was dead. He fell like overripe fruit to the ground. Yuuri’s mother dug her fingers into her son’s shoulders trying to force him out of the kitchen but he couldn’t move. He wanted to cry but his body had forgotten how. His heart was working on an escape, hammering against his ribs. He couldn’t stop shaking. He couldn’t stop looking at Kazuya’s eyes peering blankly at him from the floor. “Boss,” Kubo rasped, “that was the only doctor for miles…that was our doctor... all that research ...” Fujiwara turned on him, wings high on his forehead, eyes as dead as the body at his feet. “I work with people who can give me what I want. And that,” he said, pointing at the doctor’s body, “was not the answer I wanted.” “What… what should I do with Ao, sir?” “Are you a doctor?” “No, sir.” “So what makes you think you can do anything about Ao?” “I…” Kubo’s response seemed to have abandoned him. “We are in luck though. It just so happens that we are in the home of someone who has been studying medicine since they were in elementary school.” Yuuri’s mother all but threw him behind her. Fujiwara turned and smiled at her. It was the foulest thing Yuuri had ever seen. It made him nauseous, made him wonder how it was possible that a creature like Fujiwara could occur organically in nature. “Hiroko, your family has never failed to serve me.”.
Pectoralis major.
“Boss, he’s a kid. He’ll fuck it up and then Ao will really be done for.” “No, he won’t ,” Yuuri’s father hissed. Yuuri turned to him, horror-struck, never wanting to vomit more than he did in that moment. “You do not know my son, so you don’t speak for him.” Yuuri’s mother, thin lipped and so obviously refusing to cry stepped aside, exposing her son. Fujiwara glided to Yuuri, his expression blank with irrefutable authority as he met his eyes. Yuuri wanted to run. His body, again, had forgotten how… “I’ll ask this question again…maybe you’ll tell me something different,” he murmured. Yuuri tried not to think about the doctor bleeding onto his kitchen floor. He wished he had stayed in the dining room. “Will he die?”
Latissimus dorsi.
“Of course not.” Yuuri heard himself whisper. His body snapped back into reality, leaving his mind in a completely different realm. He moved about the kitchen, sterilizing himself, readying the dead doctor’s tools, examining the two wounds. He was still shaking, He could barely breathe, but he was on autopilot. He extracted the bullets as easily as if he were uncapping a tube of toothpaste. After he had Ao stitched up, he didn’t know what to do with his body. The surgery was over. Wildly, he thought about opening the man back up to buy time, but it was pointless. He had finished what he was told to do. Surely, logically , he would now die. Fujiwara checked Ao's pulse, placing two fingers on his neck. Yuuri’s mother grabbed her son’s arm and pulled him by her side.
Triceps brachii.
“A man of his word is one of the world’s lost wonders,” Fujiwara said, his old eyes boring into Yuuri’s youthful, frightened ones. “You keep following through on your word like that and you just might impress me some day. Kubo,” he ordered as he turned away, “clean this up. Make sure none of this happened. I’m taking a trip to Fukuoda. Don’t call me unless you want someone to clean you up off the floor too.” With one final piercing stare at Yuuri, he swept out of the kitchen, easing the door shut. Yuuri did not speak for months afterwards. Although no one had explicitly said that Yuuri would be Fujiwara's go-to doctor, it was painfully understood. No one asked for clarification, and rightfully so; three weeks after Yuuri had saved Ao's life, another man had stumbled into his parents’ kitchen, blood drenching his thigh. No one asked questions. They just knew, and Yuuri wasted no time in setting to work, his mind leaving his body to operate on auto-pilot again. He had the man patched up in good enough time for him to finish his homework before bed. Yuuri did not dream of being a doctor anymore. There was no longer any passion in that endeavor so much as there was a permanent and feverish desire to continue doing what he was told. He was good at it. It was a useful thing to be. That was enough. It was enough to just be useful, he thought as his phone rang. He stopped the song abruptly and stared at his phone. It was a blocked number, which could mean Phichit; he often secured his phone lines when he was at work. It was too early for Phichit though… whatever Phichit wanted to tell him, he would want to tell Yuuri in person, because his friend was a dramatic mess. Confused but wary, he switched the voice modulating function on before answering the call. “What?” Yuuri knew his voice was a low gravelly whisper on the other side. “Help me.” Phichit’ voice sounded as if it came from miles away as every cell in Yuuri’s body turned to ice.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“What?”
“You have to come… I need you.”
Yuuri’s heart sank. He knew something was wrong. He
knew
it. “Where are you?”
“The Glory Woods. I’m sending you the location. There’s too many and—”
“And what?” Yuuri’s mouth ran dry. “
What?
Dammit!” The line disconnected, but Yuuri was up and snatching his stealth suit and trench coat on before his phone could drop back on to his bed. He was out of the apartment lobby in less than a minute. He mounted his motorcycle and, making sure no one was watching, he pulled his mask over his head. A million terrible thoughts spun in his head as he checked the location Phichit sent him. He
told
Phichit something was weird.
Anything could have happened by now, Yuuri thought. How long had Phichit been in distress? What was he about to say before the line died?
Why
did the line die? He sped along the freeway and made it to Glory Woods, a thick, ancient forest just outside of Spring Gate. He parked his motorcycle under cover of the trees. No one would camp in these woods—the trees were growing too close together and there was no telling what kind of wild animals were living in them at this point. It was left well alone which suited Lam.
Lam
. Phichit had trusted him enough to meet him in person all those times, but not enough to let Yuuri come along. He said that there was something weird about Lam, but he wasn’t exactly sure what… Yuuri jogged through the thick trees, checking his phone every few feet.
It was dark. There were no stars. He hated that about Spring Gate; Hasetsu nights were filled with stars, so even in the darkest times there was always a bit of light to look for. It was also a little too quiet for Yuuri’s liking. If there was an emergency, why wasn’t there more commotion?
He picked up the pace, closing in on the GPS location, until he finally saw a dull yellow light glowing through the branches. He stashed his phone away and climbed a tree for cover and a better vantage point. There was a small cottage—it had to be Lam’s—and the curtains were drawn, casting a warm, balmy light. Two suited men stood at the front door, and Yuuri could tell that the other sides of the cottage were protected too. There was no way to enter without creating a commotion. Unless…
No
. He wouldn’t use his power here. He couldn’t afford to lose control when he didn’t know if Phichit was ok. He needed all of his wits about him. He wouldn’t have the element of surprise, so he’d use brute force instead.
So be it.
He leapt from the tree and sprinted to the front door. The guard to his right had barely turned his head to look at him before Yuuri punched him out cold. He turned and kicked the other man in the ribs; the gun the man was carrying flew into the air. Yuuri ignored it and kicked the door down. His eyes roamed the room feverishly for Phichit. People were getting out of their seats around him, some simply craning their necks to get a better look at him. Something was… off.
“
What
are you doing?”
Yuuri whipped his head to the left to see Phichit, dressed in his trademark red suit and glittering mask rise slowly from his chair to face him. The guards from outside had rushed in behind him and grabbed his arms on both sides, but Yuuri was too shocked to shake them off.
“You—no… you told me you were in trouble…” Yuuri spluttered.
“What?”
“You called me!”
Phichit stiffened and looked behind him. Yuuri followed his line of sight to a high backed chair placed in front of the sitting room’s fireplace. A tall, angular man sat there. He had wavy grey hair that fell to his shoulders, and severe eyes, a smirk on his face that seemed permanent. He alone had not moved from his seat when Yuuri burst through the door. This must be Lam.
“I think there’s been a misunderstanding,” Phichit said. He was frantically trying to pick up the pieces that Yuuri had smashed. He turned to Yuuri. “You must have been confused. Why don’t you apologize to our client so we can continue our negotiations?” Yuuri’s blood ran cold. He could imagine the rare, cold flat expression on Phichit’s face.
“I… I don’t understand…”
“No need, Bird.” Lam whispered at last. Yuuri snapped his attention back to the man in the chair. “Erden. Timur. Release our guest, please.” The two men holding Yuuri reluctantly let him go. Yuuri had forgotten they were there.
“What about Tao and Feng?”
“Are they dead?”
“No, but-”
“So what about them? Leave them. They’ll come around eventually.” His cold eyes raked over Yuuri, making Yuuri feel as if he had been caught in the rain. He chuckled, an icy dead rasp.
“Mr. Chi,” Phicit began. He was at a loss for words, clearly trying not to look back at Yuuri. “I sincerely apologize for this interruption. If we could continue the negotiations-”
“No, Bird. There is no need to apologize. After all, this is a joyous occasion. I never thought I’d see you again, Yuuri Katsuki.”
Yuuri's heart collapsed. His ears rang as if they were bleeding and, again, he felt he would never breathe again. He suddenly felt naked. How did he know? Did Yuuri know Lam? No… it was impossible.
“I'm sorry?” He heard Phichit snap.
“Don’t try to deny it. I have eyes you know. And they see what most can't.” He looked Yuuri up and down again. “You've grown… you’ve always taken after your mother…” he began to laugh again. “But this makes sense! No one knew what happened to the Katsukis' son after their daughter was attacked… and your cat burglar, Bird… they’ve been the same person all this time! This changes things!”
“What do you mean?” Phichit tried to keep his tone pleasant, but even in Yuuri's panicking state, he knew his friend better. He was ticked. “My operative's name doesn’t matter because he will still be able to secure the pieces of Orion, just like we discussed. I see no change.”
“Of course you see the change, you’re just not willing to acknowledge it. Yuuri doesn’t steal for himself, he steals for Fujiwara. That’s why Katsuki is allowed to be out of the game without paying for his freedom with his own blood… or with his family’s blood… his son has been paying for his protection.”
“And?”
“And that means you should’ve told me who your operative was from the beginning, Bird. We could’ve saved precious time.”
Phichit was past exasperated. He folded his arms and waited for Lam to finish. The man steepled his fingers and looked Yuuri square in the eye; it was disconcerting that Lam could find the core of his soul even from behind the pitch black mask.
“You don’t want money, do you Mr. Katsuki? Now that I know who you are, I can offer you exactly what you want.”
“I should remind you that all negotiations regarding payment are to be performed with me,
not
my operative,” Phichit hissed.
“And I should remind
you
that I don’t care to waste my money. It would certainly be wasted on him since he doesn’t want it. He wants his family’s safety and I can give him that.”
“How’s that?” Yuuri finally spoke up. Phichit whipped his head around him and Yuuri could see his eyes widen in warning under the mask. Lam grinned.
“I was just telling Bird how much I despise that spawn of Satan, Fujiwara. It doesn’t help that his territory is stretching a touch too close to home. It would be difficult, but I could get rid of him. Do this job for me, and I'll have Fujiwara killed. With him out of the picture, your family will be free.”
“I… that’s…”
“That’s my final offer. Take it or leave it. Like I said, I don’t give my money to people who don’t want it, especially not so much of it.”
“That is not the agreement we made!” Phichit shouted.
“We never made an official agreement did we… still negotiating. This is the only payment that makes sense for a man like this. I really wish I had known,” he laughed. “If I know who a man is, I can give him what he wants. Isn't that right Bird?” Yuuri knew Phichit wasn't at a loss for words when he shook his head, but just very aware that the words he wanted to say
really
shouldn't be said.
“I can’t ask you to do that…” Yuuri said. Lam raised an eyebrow at him.
“I’m not doing you any favors, believe me. This will be an even trade.”
“No, I mean I can’t ask you to kill someone.”
“Don’t be a child. The only fitting punishment for pure evil is death.”
“Even so, it’s not my decision to make. I won’t kill him.”
“Why don’t you tell dear Mari that?” Lam scoffed. “I heard she’s made a fair recovery, but for how long?” Yuuri ignored him, flexing his fists. “What do you want then? To have him turned into the authorities? A man like Fujiwara
is
the final authority.”
“No… not exactly. That would be too easy for him.” Yuuri was speaking without thinking now, the words just coming to him because they made sense to be there. “I’m not sure how or when but I'm going to take him down. Without killing him. When that time comes, you’re going to help me. And then I'll get the Shield of Orion for you.”
“That is far more difficult, time consuming and simply unnecessary than killing Fujiwara. And what’s worse, you want me to do this
before
I've received my end of the deal? I think not.”
“That’s the only way that’s fair!”
“And how have you figured that one out, son?”
Yuuri bristled and clenched his fists again. “How do I know you’ll follow through on your end of the deal once you’ve gotten what you want from me?”
Lam grimaced and rose. He seemed almost immaterial and even that quality seemed sinister as he rounded behind his chair to languidly rest his forearms on the high back. “I could never stand the stench of a man in debt. I
always
keep my promises, Yuuri Katsuki. If you don’t want him killed, fine. I’ll handle it. But you will get Orion
first.”
“So that’s it? We have your
word?”
Phichit sneered, running an agitated hand through his dark hair. This negotiation was past saving.
“It’s all we’re worth.” As much as Lam seemed to dislike Ikki Fujiwara, Yuuri thought they were quite similar, and he hated him for it. “Take it or leave it.”
*
Yuuri drove Phicit home on the back of his motorcycle. He could’ve run, but Phichit said he needed the time to think. They didn’t talk on the way back. Yuuri's mind was numb. He could only think of the names of bones as he sped along the freeway and waited at stoplights. The night air was brutal on his exposed cheeks, the mask off and tucked away into his trench coat to avoid suspicion.
When they got back to their apartment, Phichit didn’t say anything at first. He slowly toed his shoes off and shed his clothes. Yuuri did the same, still feeling too numb to speak. When they were both in soft pajamas and nursing cups of black tea, Phichit cleared his throat.
“Curiosity killed the cat,” he murmured.
Yuuri's mouth ran dry and his cheeks flared. He met Phichit's gaze and though it wasn’t hostile or even accusatory, he didn’t like what he saw there.
“But satisfaction brought it back…” Yuuri finished weakly.
“Did you forget?”
Yes
. “I… I thought you had panicked… I mean
I
panicked when I heard you… I mean I
thought
it was you.”
“That’s exactly why we came up with that distress signal, Yuuri. For moments like this.”
“I was worried,” Yuuri choked out, trying not to let the tears win.
Phichit sighed. “I know. And honestly, I'm not mad because the more I think about it the more I'm sure I would’ve done the same thing. You were freaked about the whole thing since the beginning and then I made you swear not to follow me.” He ran his hand through his hair and began to pace the kitchen. “At first it didn’t make sense to me how you got that call but I think I know now. It was always strange to me that Lam didn’t have mutants or elemental types in his gang. People like Fujiwara have loads of mutants in their inner circle. I knew they couldn’t all be normal because, what are the odds of that in a criminal group that large? But it seems like Lam's group is made up of the psychic types like you, Yuuri. Lam must have some sort of x-ray vision, and one of his guys must’ve been able to read my mind to find out who my operative was. Voice mimicking, in theory, is also a psychic ability… I should’ve known. When we first met, he spoke in Thai. He had no reason to do that since he wasn’t Thai. I just assumed that he was polylingual and didn’t want me snooping on him. But he did it on purpose! He knew I was Thai because he could see through my mask! Or he had someone read my mind! It’s so obvious now! I thought I had all the important stuff figured out but he was always ahead of me. And how does he know you? He acts like he
knows
you, knows you— like you two have met before. He completely changed the deal, just like that! This was not part of the plan. And you’re having a panic attack…” Phichit set his mug in the sink. “Oh no, Yuuri, breathe.”
Yuuri felt hollow inside. He had messed up. He made a stupid childish decision and now all of Phichit's hard work was down the drain. Not only that, Lam, someone who had just proved to be as frightening as Fujiwara, knew who he was. What was stopping Lam from manipulating him? From manipulating Phichit? Or harming his family? He did this.
He did this
. Because he had been naïve. He'd been stupid. Ragged breaths ripped in and out of him. His vision swam. It was over. He messed up and it was over. He doomed everyone…
“Yuuri, not like that. Slowly. With me.” Phichit took the mug from him and set it down. He held his hands and counted breaths with his friend until he stopped shaking. “Yuuri, I promise it’s ok. This isn’t a problem, it’s just… a change of plans. Yeah… this is actually better… this could work!” He seemed to be saying it to himself.
“Phichit… no,” Yuuri said weakly.
“No, I'm serious! I know I said that this job would be endgame, but this is the
real
endgame. We have an ally on the inside who’s going to help us take Fujiwara down once and for all. He never struck me as a killer, but, hey. Beggars can't be choosers. If we keep paying Fujiwara, it’ll never end. There is no goal with the route we’ve chosen, but this…” he beamed, almost manic, “this is where it can finally end. It
has
to.”
“What’s stopping Lam from going back on his word?”
“His ego. He said it himself! He doesn’t like being in debt to other people. If you get what he wants, he won’t rest until he’s returned the favor. It’s the thing that makes him scary. All big guys like that have a thing. Fujiwara's thing is you never expect or see his gun until he’s putting it away. Lam's thing is that if he says he’s going to do something, he’s going to do it which is bad luck for some, but excellent for us! We have an ally!”
“Phichit… how can you be so sure about this? I still can’t believe you agreed to a deal like that. You don’t even get a profit out of it.” Yuuri whispered, trying not to lose control of his breathing again.
“I'm… I’m doing this to help you, remember? This was all just a good puzzle for me from the beginning, and now Lam's made it more interesting for me. This will
work
.” He said it with finality and began to wash their mugs even though Yuuri hadn’t finished his tea.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Yuuri had been in a mood ever since his encounter with Lam. He felt guilt, restlessness, and a sense of lingering despair festering inside him. It didn’t help that Phichit hadn’t given him a new job for a week after that meeting. He knew where all the Orion pieces were, but a weight rolled in his stomach whenever he thought about them. He just couldn’t bring himself to get them. He even took time off of his nursing job. Yuuri only came out of his room for meals and he could tell he was being reclusive. He tried to act normal so Phichit wouldn’t worry. One morning, while he fixed a cup of tea and Phichit made eggs, he forced himself to make human conversation. “What do you have planned for the day?” His voice sounded strange and scratchy after not having used it in a while. Phichit jumped a little as he turned to look at Yuuri. Yuuri guessed Phichit had gotten used to giving him space in his silent phase and was surprised to hear him talking. “Hm? Me? Oh, nothing much,” he cracked an egg with what Yuuri thought was excessive force. "I’m meeting with some dude from France at nine because he wants a turtle-deer. At 12, I’ve got an appointment with that group of thieves from Sweden—I can never pronounce the name—and then I’m gonna kick Lam’s ass later at 2:30. I’ll grab a late lunch at 4. Probably from a convenience store. At 4:45, I’ve got a joint meeting with two alien creature smugglers all the way in Singapore. And that’s it. It’s gonna be a lazy day.” Yuuri blinked and put his tea down. “What is it you’re doing at 2:30?” “Kicking Lam’s ass.” “Huh.” “Mmmhmm.” He shoveled the eggs onto two plates and shoved one of them at Yuuri who politely refused. Phichit shrugged, dumped it onto his plate and began to eat standing up. “So uh, you know you can’t kick Lam’s ass right?” “I may not have the same fighting capabilities as you, Yuuri, but I think I can take him.” Yuuri laughed for the first time in forever which made Phichit relax a bit. “I don’t mean you can’t physically kick his ass, I mean you logically shouldn’t.” “And what logic says that?” Phichit reluctantly grinned. “The logic that says that kicking a client’s ass is a quick way to incur said client’s wrath.” Phichit tilted his head as if considering that information. “That’s not a convincing enough reason.” “Why do you want to kick his ass anyways? I thought you were looking forward to getting Orion.” “I wouldn’t so much say I’m looking forward to it as much as I just recognize that it’s of the utmost importance that we get it. And I’m gonna beat his ass because he’s a head-case. He’s driving me insane. He thinks he’s shopping at the fucking Dollar Tree. I know I said I don’t care about my cut, but we need at least a little bit of payment. You might need transportation, or you might get injured, or literally anything else could happen. These are basic service fees that he’s refusing to pay just because he knows who you are.” “I’m really sorry about that, Phichit,” Yuuri rubbed his neck. “Oh, Yuuri it’s not your fault. Like I said, I don’t blame you and he’s a total head-case. The only way out of this is to murder him to make myself feel better.” “Murder is a huge step up from kicking his ass.” “I thought the murder was implied.” Yuuri chuckled and put his mug in the dishwasher. “If it’s too much of a problem, then I don’t care about the service fees. I have plenty saved up in case of emergencies.” “But that’s not the point, Yuuri,” he said, spraying some eggs onto his front. “If I don’t charge him anything, word will get out and negotiations with other clients will be absolutely impossible. People like Scavenger will definitely try to take advantage and get stupid discounts and I swear, if anybody so much as says the word ‘cheap’ to me, I will eviscerate them.” “… What about ‘affordable’?” Phichit slammed his fork down. “I will eviscerate them, Yuuri.”
“Taihen, na…”
“Ne!”
They both laughed through the rest of their breakfast and then Yuuri returned to his room. Before Phichit had to leave for the day, he knocked on Yuuri’s bedroom door. “Come in,” Yuuri called from his bed. “You’re not fooling me,” Phichit said as he entered. He was eyeing Yuuri with a matter of fact expression and adjusting his cuffs. He was wearing a black suit today with a red tie to match the carnival mask he was famous for. Yuuri put down the book he was reading and sat up in bed. “What are you talking about?” “You’re still acting moody because of what happened at Lam’s.” Yuuri winced at how straight forward he was. “No, I’m fine really.” “You should try lying to someone who doesn’t know you. I’m sure they’d believe you.” Before Yuuri could open his mouth to retort, Phichit held up a hand to silence him. “I’m not going to tell you to get over it or anything stupid like that, but you’re going out with me tonight. You need to forget about everything. Orion, Fujiwara, Lam. We can get drinks at Mike’s Pub. It is your birthday, after all,” he beamed. Yuuri groaned and flopped onto his back. “Ugh, how did I forget? Phichit I don’t want to drink.” “Yeah but you need it! And this isn’t a debate. It’s your birthday and you’re going. You might have had a choice in the matter a week ago, but you’re still sulking so tough shit, bud.” Yuuri glared at him and rolled over like a log, but didn’t answer. “That’s the spirit. Be ready at six.” * Six o’clock came in the blink of an eye, and Phichit returned to the apartment even faster than that. He groaned when he found Yuuri lounging on the sofa, still in sweats, eating Oreos, and engrossed in a bad Netflix sitcom. “Why am I not surprised,” he scolded as he snatched the oreos out of Yuuri’s hands. “Hey!” He frowned at Phichit and tried, in vain, to take the snacks back. “It’s my birthday, so I should be able to choose what we do.” “You’re not allowed to choose indulging depressing urges! And these are my oreos, you jack-a-lope!” “That insult doesn’t even make sense!” “You don’t make sense!” Phichit picked up a sofa pillow and smacked Yuuri with it.”
“Hey!”
“Get up!”
“Fine!” Yuuri pouted and stormed to his room. He ripped clothes out of his closet, not caring if they matched and yanked them on, grumbling about Phichit. He grabbed his keys, wallet, and phone before reemerging. Phichit had changed too, and he was wearing a purple sweater, black jeans and a matching reversed baseball cap. Phichit looked him up and down and sucked his teeth. “You look terrible,” he said.” “Good.” “Let’s go then,” and he opened the door. At the same time, Ms. Kenjirou from across the hall, opened her door, holding a garbage bag. She nodded at them and they nodded politely back. “Ah, shimatta!” Yuuri gasped and snapped his fingers. Ms. Kenjirou jumped at his little outburst. He almost forgot. “Ms. Kenjirou,” he asked in Japanese, “is Minami home?” “Oh, that’s right! It’s your birthday today, isn’t it? Happy birthday, dear!” “Thank you,” Yuuri nodded his appreciation and pretended not to notice Phichit frowning out of the corner of his eye. “I actually invited Minami over to play videogames inside with us,” he gave Phichit a smug look and his friend threw his hands up in defeat. “Ah, soo nan da… actually, I haven’t seen Minami in a while.” The look on her face was strange, as if she were trying her best to smile even though she had just bit a lemon. “It’s been more than two days now.” “Really?” Yuuri asked. When he thought about it, he hadn’t seen the teen since he had invited him over for his birthday which was a little over a month ago. He usually saw Minami whenever he left his apartment at night. Granted, he hadn’t left for any jobs (legal or otherwise), in forever. “Has he at least called?” “No…” Ms. Kenjirou said with a quaky voice. “I know he’s a man now but…” “It’s ok,” Yuuri said, feeling pity for the woman who, in that moment reminded him of his own mother. “You must be worried. But I’m sure he’s with some friends and lost track of time.” “Do you think so? He’s never actually mentioned any friends besides you,” she said, hitting Yuuri over the head with guilt. “You have to be right though… he can take care of himself, right?” “Of course he can,” Phichit said softly. It seemed he forgot how agitated he was with Yuuri. “I’m sure he didn’t mean to hurt you. He’s just busy growing up, is all.” She smiled at them. “You two are so sweet. I hope he spends more of his time with you both.” Yuuri thought that Minami could do better than a shady info broker and a cat burglar, but didn’t mention this. “I’ll take this down for you,” Phichit said, taking the trash from Ms. Kenjirou’s hands. Before she could say thank you, he was gone and back again, the trash nowhere to be seen. “Ah—I—oh, that was so fast! Thank you! You’ve got quite the ability!” She patted Phichit’s cheek and he beamed. “Oh, that reminds me, Minami made something for your birthday, Yuuri. Do you mind waiting here?” “S-sure…” Yuuri mumbled at his feet. He had told Minami not to get him anything, mostly because any kind of attention always made him uncomfortable. But he felt bad for Minami’s mother so he didn’t want to upset her. She grinned and flitted back into her apartment. Yuuri looked at Phichit and sighed. “What are you thinking,” Phichit asked. “I… don’t know. This isn’t like him, but he’s still a teenager after all. It might be possible he got caught up.” “Might? That’s exactly what happened. He’s nineteen, Yuuri. I’m sure he’s fine.” “Yeah,” Yuuri nodded. It did no good to think about the people he saved from Walters, Graham, and Olivia. “You’re right.” Ms. Kenjirou came back out holding a small tray of blue cake-pops. Together, they all spelled out “Happy Birthday” in shaky, navy writing. “I think they’re chocolate. He’s really got a knack for baking,” she said and handed them to a flustered Yuuri. “This is… I um…” “He loves chocolate,” Phichit saved him. “Especially chocolate cake. When Minami gets back home, we’ll be sure to thank him in person. And if he comes by tonight, we’ll let you know,” he reassured her, patting her shoulder. They left her looking much more pleased than when they first saw her, which was a relief. Yuuri, with some guilt, pushed Minami out of his mind for the rest of the night, because he felt that if he worried about one more thing, he would snap. He was at least grateful that Phichit had, in some way, honored Yuuri’s wishes and had not invited anyone to the bar. It was just the two of them sharing drinks and laughs. Mike’s Pub was a cozy place with warm wood surfaces and myriad pictures on the walls of past patrons and employees. There was a flatscreen TV high on the wall, volume turned down low on a news story covering a suspected fairy sighting. The lights were soft, the air was a bit greasy, and the sounds of laughter and clinking billiard balls filled the room. It was a nice night for it, a welcome change. Yuuri was actually enjoying himself, was thankful for the distraction from everything. Phichit had ordered poutine to share between them as a joke—a throwback to Victor’s strange FBI (?) profile. Yuuri was stuffing his face with a sopping fry when Phichit ordered himself another Old Fashioned. He sipped it then grinned at Yuuri. “Happy Birthday, Yuuri.” “Thanks, Phichit,” he said. “Sixty-eight years young and counting.” Phichit cackled and punched his shoulder. “Sixty-eight year olds wish they could be you.” “Boy, I hope to be sixty-eight one day. Mmmm, just think of the retirement checks.” Yuuri hummed with a wry smile and threw back another shot. “I’d like to see the person that thinks they can stop you,” Phichit said and Yuuri laughed again. Despite the slightly morbid turn the conversation took (entirely his fault), he was still feeling good and he took the momentary silence that followed as an opportunity to munch on more fries. But Phichit was silent for a tick too long, staring into the amber puddle at the bottom of his glass. Yuuri slid the bowl of poutine toward Phichit as a timid offering, but Phichit waved his hand at it. “Everything all right?” “Hmm? Ah, yeah.” Yuuri swallowed his fries, and narrowed his eyes at Phichit. “Is there something on your mind, then?” “I…” Phichit said, drumming his fingers on the counter. “I have a present for you. For your birthday.” Yuuri threw his head back and groaned. “Phichit, we agreed not to buy each other presents, remember?” It was a long time ago when they made that promise to each other. They were still fresh out of the Grand Prix and barely getting their legs in the underworld. It didn’t feel right to throw money at each other when they had so much of it and got it by illegitimate means. “Well I didn’t buy anything so it should be fine, right?” Yuuri pursed his lips but conceded. “I guess,” but, for some reason, Phichit still didn’t seem at ease. He took one of Yuuri’s tequila shots and grinned at him. “You remember our first job, right?” “Of course,” Yuuri snorted. “It was a disaster. Why?” “It wasn’t a disaster! We still could’ve gotten that ruby if we wanted to.” “Phichit,” Yuuri whispered, glancing around to make sure they weren’t being overheard. The bartender’s back was to them, her many arms performing many tasks, the couple a few seats down from them were leaning in close to each other, and no one else seemed to be paying any attention to them. “The building fell down on me. Do you remember that?” “Regardless, that job was a roaring success,” Phichit insisted with a look. Yuuri smiled in spite of himself and decided to nibble on a fry. Just the thought of that first job made the burn scar on his lower back prickle, but he guessed that Phichit was right. He had absolutely no regrets about what happened that night. Phichit leaned in closer and lowered his voice more. “Neither of us knew that the Chelsea family’s enemies would be burning down their home the exact same night as our heist. And Yuuri… you could’ve ran. You could’ve taken that ruby and booked it out of there.” A terrible scream was reborn in Yuuri’s memories just then. Mrs. Chelsea’s scream from all those years ago, ripping the night in two, making Yuuri drop the ruby that was in his hands. Something was wrong, and suddenly, the thought of picking the ruby back up felt dirty. He rushed back to the main floor and was met by flames and smoke. The memory of ash stinging his nose almost made Yuuri forget he was in the pub. He could just make out shadows of people running, flailing. Without thinking, he reached out to one of those shadows—young Silas Chelsea—and threw him over his shoulders, carrying him out of the mansion and away from the flames. He kept running back into the house, carrying the Chelsea family in his arms, fighting against the veil of smoke that suffocated him. Anna Chelsea, a toddler at the time, was last. The fire was as dense as a wall. He was due to meet Phichit ages ago and, back then, they hadn’t gotten comm links. Yuuri couldn’t see through the flames, though he had the floor plan memorized. It felt impossible. Holes were burned into the hardwood, turning the surface into lace and making Yuuri trip and stumble. He choked on the fumes and forced himself to keep moving, to reach Anna’s crib. He couldn’t hear her crying, and he remembered hoping against hope that he wasn’t too late. He fell over some rubble and a flaming wooden beam came crashing down on him, trapping him on the ground. He felt too weak to push it off. His chest was so congested with smoke he couldn’t scream. He remembered thinking about his mother’s face. His father. Mari in the hospital. The Nishigoris. Phichit. Fujiwara. Kazuya’s dead eyes staring up at him from his kitchen floor. Wheezing, he closed his eyes, and the last thing he remembered thinking was that he was amazed he had gotten this far, that he had lived so long. Yuuri cleared his throat and tried on a smile. “Do you think the Chelsea family expected to be carried out of a burning building by a guy in a ski mask?” “Of course not,” Phichit gave him a small smirk. “Pandora’s Iron has its faults but it’s definitely better than what you were working with back then.” “It still wouldn’t have saved me from that fire. So… thank you, Phichit,” Yuuri said. Yuuri was slipping in and out of consciousness when the beam was suddenly gone. It was Phichit. He had sped over to the Chelsea house when Yuuri never met him. He ended up saving Yuuri and Anna Chelsea. The entire family was safe and sound, Yuuri and Phichit were far out of dodge, and the ruby was never mentioned again. Yuuri didn’t even care. He was just shocked that he had made it out alive, and was overcome with gratitude for his friend. “You’re my best friend,” Phichit said. Yuuri thought his eyes looked wet so he studied a chunky glob of cheese on their poutine. “I would do anything for you.” “No, you’re my best friend. And I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Yuuri grumbled. Phichit laughed and Yuuri figured it was safe to look at him again. “What does this have to do with the present you got me?” “Well,” Phichit said and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a small plastic case. It looked like something you’d keep playing cards in. Inside was something that looked black and dead. Yuuri eyed it with confusion. “Happy birthday. Again,” Phichit said awkwardly and slid the case across the bar to Yuuri. He picked it up and dumped the thing in his hands. It was a brittle, ash covered chunk of wood, and even this small piece reeked of smoke and gas. A small lump formed in Yuuri’s throat. “Is this…” “I went back to the Chelsea house to pick up a kind of… souvenir. They had to move to another house since everything was destroyed… I don’t know,” he added hastily, “it’s kind of dumb, but I think about that night a lot. I just… I don’t know.” “Phichit…” Yuuri whispered and he knew it was too quiet for his friend to actually hear him. He gingerly placed the piece of wood back in its case. “It’s not much, I know. It might be kind of weird. I just wanted you to have a reminder of how I see you. Because you sometimes forget what kind of person you are.” Yuuri looked at him, but didn’t want to chance opening his mouth. Phichit nodded his understanding. “You’re a good person, Yuuri. A really good person. You’re selfless and heroic and nothing can change that about you. Not people, or time or circumstances. You’ll always be you.” It took a few seconds for Yuuri to collect all the feelings running wild in his head, tinkering with his tear ducts and yanking at the strings in his chest. When he felt it was safe to speak again without crying he pulled Phichit into a hug. “I keep wondering what I did to deserve someone like you. Every other day, I worry about whether I’m going to live to see another day, whether it would be a bad thing if I didn’t and then you remind me that there’s so much to be happy for,” he said thickly into Phichit’s shoulder. When he heard a giant sniff near his ear, he burst into tears, Phichit doing the same immediately after. The bartender jumped in surprise, but neither of them cared. They bawled, a complete mess, and laughed when the bartender awkwardly offered them some napkins and free refills. Yuuri teased Phichit for making him cry on his birthday and they laughed some more, staying out well past midnight.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Yuuri was trying to stretch out his break for as long as possible. The ER had been backed up all night because of a small scale breakout at the local super prison. He was treating civilians and—with a twinge of guilt—some very familiar heroes. He helped 88 with a sprained ankle and Spotlight with a busted lower lip. It felt so odd to speak to them normally, to help them and receive their earnest thanks. He actually felt bad and wanted to make up for it somehow, but he couldn’t figure out how to do that without giving himself away. Instead, he took off for the café as soon as his break rolled around to scarf down some salad. He was only half focusing on a news story about a werewolf when Noor, an ER nurse jogged up to him. Yuuri tried to be invisible even though Noor was standing directly in front of him. “We need you down there,” he panted pointing a thumb over his shoulder. Yuuri screwed his eyes shut and groaned. “I just got here.” “I know, but we’re all the way backed up. And we have some heroes in for checkups.”
“Heroes?!”
“Sometimes local heroes get physicals in the ER because it’s easier to avoid prying eyes. There’s a back entrance and stuff. Travelling heroes don’t do that though because they have their own doctors.” “Jesus,” Yuuri breathed, closing his eyes again. “Can you give us one hour?” “Fine…” Yuuri got up to follow him, not bothering to take his Tupperware with him. Noor caught him up on the next batch of patients as they made their way back down. He handed Yuuri the file for the next patient. Yuuri nodded at him and opened the curtain. “Senpai?!”
“Minami?!”
“Oh my gosh!” Minami squealed. Yuuri stuttered and blinked, thrown off by the sudden clash of his worlds. “What are you—what’s wrong? Why are you here?” “I—nothing’s wrong,” he said rather unconvincingly but as Yuuri looked at his chart, he had to agree. Nothing was actually wrong with Minami. He hadn’t even come in himself, but was transported by an ambulance after being found passed out by a lake. “You… you were unconscious? What happened?” “Oh, nothing, I wasn’t unconscious,” he blurted and Yuuri held the chart up to him with an incredulous look. Minami pouted. “Ok, I mean I was but only because I was um… sleeping.” “Sleeping?” “Yeah.” “By a lake?” “Mhmm.” “For five days?” Minami’s eyes widened at that before darting away. “I talked to your mother a while back. She was worried about you.” “When did you… oh no! I forgot about your birthday, Yuuri! I’m so sorry!” “Don’t worry about that,” Yuuri said quickly, “I just want to know what happened.” “I was just… hanging out with some friends. From college. I was staying over at a friend’s place, and we all went out and things… just got out of control a little bit.” “Were you drinking?” “No… I was just… tired.” “Which is why you fell asleep by the lake.” “Yes.” Yuuri eyed him, making sure to put as much obvious disbelief on his face as possible before setting the file down. “Minami, I can’t force you to do anything, but if something happened, you can tell me. Or literally anybody you trust so that we can help you.” “I trust you!” “Yeah?” Minami opened his mouth as if to say something but closed it and decided to stare at his lap instead. Yuuri studied him. His clothes were past ruffled, with grass stains and some tears in places. His dyed hair was ruffled and dirty and for all his talk of sleep, he had the pinched look of someone who hadn’t slept or eaten in days. He could point all of this out, but if Minami wasn’t going to talk, it might be worse to try to force it out of him. Yuuri sighed and reached out to rub his shoulder. “I’m going to check a few things and then the doctor will come in. It’s Dr. Chester. He’s very nice and very patient. We’re a little backed up tonight, so it might take a while, but don’t worry. We’ll take care of you.” Minami nodded so Yuuri got to work. After he had recorded all the necessary info in the chart, Yuuri smiled at Minami and pulled his curtain closed. He was no doctor, but he knew enough—there was nothing physically wrong with Minami. That was a relief but it still didn’t soothe the nagging feeling that something was very off. He caught Noor by the sleeve as he was passing. “Can we get some security on this patient,” he whispered nodding his head in the direction of Minami’s concealed stretcher. “Something’s not right so I want to be sure he doesn’t leave before Dr. Chester gets to him.” “Yikes, ok.” Noor left and Yuuri tried to push Minami out of his mind when he pulled out his next patient file. There was no use getting distracted on a night this busy. He pulled the curtain on his next patient. His heart stopped. He never expected this part of his past to resurface so boldly and he thought he might fall over. But because it seemed like his patient didn’t recognize him, he smiled, and shook his hand, hoping against hope, that the subject of his identity would not come up. * Fifteen years ago, when Yuuri and Phichit were still quite young, they had been enrolled in the Grand Prix Academy, an international institute for children with abilities. Students attending the Grand Prix are taught to identify and control their abilities by gifted adults and heroes alike. They are admitted to the academy at age ten, and “graduate” twice before their final graduation at around age twenty-one, at which point students may begin training to become heroes. This was exceedingly rare; most students chose “normal” professions. The curriculum and training for hero work was so rigorous and even painful, that the idea of becoming a hero, a profession that wasn’t really a profession, was not popular. Baker, a seasoned hero who had the remarkable and entertaining ability to turn any object he touched into cake, had been both Yuuri and Phichit’s teacher at the Grand Prix for seven years before they both left the academy—Yuuri to protect his family from the Yakuza’s wrath and Phichit to satisfy an itch for something more challenging by helping Yuuri (though Baker was not aware of their reasons). They had both been jealously talented, incurring praise and recognition from the academy’s staff. For their age, they both exhibited fantastic potential but that wasn’t the only thing that impressed those around them. Yuuri had more practical medical knowledge at age ten than most practicing doctors and there wasn’t a virtual database in existence that stood a chance against young Phichit’s quick and shrewd thinking. Of course, Yuuri had a bit of a hiccup in his fourth year with another student, but he had returned, brilliant and determined as ever to learn. It therefore shocked and baffled the staff to learn that both young prodigies had not only dropped out, but had also vanished from seemingly every record they had access to. The academy could no longer contact Yuuri’s or Phichit’s families, and any record of their existence—medical, dental, video, or otherwise, had mysteriously vanished. No one from the academy had heard from the two young geniuses in years. After Victor had become the only hero of his class, it seemed as if Yuuri and Phichit would be some of the world’s only next heroes until they vanished, which troubled the academy. It was looking like the two never existed in the first place. That is why, Baker, dressed in nothing but spangled boxers and a hospital gown, was shocked to find that the nurse that greeted him was none other than Yuuri Katsuki, his beloved former student. He was so shocked, in fact, that he nearly swallowed his thermometer when he realized why the young nurse’s face looked so familiar. Yuuri was quick to pluck the head of the thermometer out of Baker’s mouth before it could disappear and frantically asked his patient if he was ok. Baker ignored these questions. “Yuuri,” he spluttered, still trying to catch his breath. “Don’t you remember me? Surely, you at least recognize me from the news?!” Yuuri slowly looked away, looking a bit uncomfortable, but Baker remembered that his student had always been a tad shy and took Yuuri’s silence as a sign of bashfulness instead of secrecy. Yuuri met his eyes again after a beat and gave a small nod. “Of course I remember you.” “Well, it’s good to see you! You gave all of us at the Grand Prix a fright when you and your buddy Phichit dropped off the face of the Earth!” His admonishing tone was terribly diluted by his pleased smile and boisterous laugh. “What happened?” “Take a deep breath,” Yuuri said quietly, placing his stethoscope against Baker’s chest. Baker blinked, but obeyed and waited until Yuuri had made a quick note on his clipboard before speaking again. “Yuuri,” he said furrowing a scolding eyebrow at his pupil, “Tell me what happened! You know we were all worried, and now it turns out you’ve been on the other side of the world, in America all this time! I think you owe me an explanation, young man.” “I haven’t been in America the whole time,” Yuuri chuckled quietly, clicking his pen. “Then where?” “Japan…” and even Baker could tell at this point that his student sounded a bit hesitant, “I went home, you see.” “Nonsense! We tried contacting your parents to no avail.” “We moved. Family problems. We ran into a bit of trouble, but we’re taking care of it at this point.” “I see. And am I to assume that Phichit also dropped off the face of the Earth because of family problems?” Baker fixed him with a familiar look and Yuuri grinned again. “Best friends are like family, aren’t they?” “You’re being rather cagey… but no matter. I am at least grateful to see you alive and well. I trust that Phichit is in equally fair health.” “Yes, professor. Open your mouth and stick out your tongue please.” Yuuri seemed, Baker thought, relieved that he had not been questioned further. Baker’s paternal feelings stirred restlessly at this. What was Yuuri hiding? “You know I am no fool, Yuuri,” Baker said when Yuuri removed the tongue compressor from his mouth, “I won’t ask any more questions because I’ve never been much of an interrogator. That’s more Boss’ territory. Something must’ve happened, and I am alarmed to even think that you felt as if it was your duty to endure it alone. You can always come to me or anyone else from the Grand Prix for help. We’re your family too, you know.” “Thank you, professor.” He pointed to the metal tray beside him with an assortment of medical tools on it. “Please turn the paper cup into a cake.” “Any requests?” “I’m allergic to strawberry…” He grinned and made another quick note on his clipboard as Baker turned the flowery cup into a magnificent slice of chocolate gateau, complete with sugar roses, at the touch of a finger. “As a super hero, I must admit that even I struggle with asking for help. But it’s important for everyone to know that they are not alone in their endeavors.” Baker watched Yuuri as he said this, but his student merely nodded, busying himself with Baker’s ears and lumbar functions. He did not expect Yuuri to reply because as the exam persisted, the nurse only spoke to give soft commands or ask questions. After ten minutes, Yuuri assured Baker that he was in excellent health and left to allow him to dress. He reappeared shortly after to tell him that the doctor would see him soon. If Baker hadn’t been waiting for another opportunity to offer his support, he would’ve missed the small “um” that came from behind him. He turned around, face carefully impassive.“Professor…” Yuuri said. “I admire you.” “And there’s much to admire about you too, Yuuri.” He smiled, but for whatever reason, Yuuri seemed to not have heard this compliment. Something dark flitted across his student’s face, something quite sad indeed, but it vanished as quickly as it had come leaving a curiously blank expression in its place. “I’m sure that you would do anything to save someone important to you. But I don’t think you’d risk other lives to do it. You would find a way… I think that’s what makes you a great hero,” and he whisked past Baker, leaving his former teacher uneasy. * Yuuri was so livid that he wasn’t even tired when he got home, well past midnight. His skin was on fire and he wanted to punch something as he opened the door to their apartment. Phichit was there. Phichit. His friend. His friend who kept deadly secrets form him. He clenched his jaw so tightly he heard his teeth crunch and went to the kitchen. Phichit was still wearing his suit, mask strewn across the counter, and sluggishly munching on Oreos. Yuuri did not look at him as he walked in and opened a cabinet to stare at the plates. “Hey,” Phichit said. Yuuri ignored him and his skin grew hotter. The cabinet handle felt very breakable in his hands. “Something wrong?” Phichit asked. Yuuri closed his eyes and tried to calm himself down. Tried to forget about his encounter with Baker. Tried to remember Phichit staying up with him and his burning leg. Remember Phichit selling his soul for speedster serum. Remember the wood from the Chelsea fire. “Yuuri, what’s going on?” “When I agreed to move here with you, you told me it wouldn’t be risky, that we wouldn’t run into anyone too troublesome.” Yuuri blurted, as he slammed the cabinet. Phichit blinked in confusion as Yuuri turned on him. “What are you—” “I saw Baker in the ER today. For a checkup.” Phichit opened his mouth but didn’t say anything. He looked at the cookie in his hand and bit his lip. “Did you know that only local heroes get checkups in the ER? Local. As in, they live here.” Phichit still didn’t look up. “What? Nothing?” Yuuri asked cruelly. Eventually, Phichit shrugged as if he weren’t fazed by the knowledge that Yuuri had met their former teacher at his day job. But his shoulders looked stiff and his face was hard. He ate the oreo, and crossed his arms over his chest before speaking again. “It was bound to happen eventually, Yuuri. All the greats like Baker have been working internationally so no one knew where they were based at. But recently, they’ve been appearing more frequently in the West, so it’s my guess that they’re finally building a headquarters. Your run in with Ciao-Ciao pretty much confirms it. If they were still just going wherever they felt they were needed, they wouldn’t be getting checkups at a local doctor, would they? It seems like they’re settling down.” “That’s exactly my point. There’s no way they would just be passing through if they’re getting fucking general health care at their local hospital. And somehow, I find it very hard to believe that you are just now realizing this,” Yuuri stormed. “You’re right,” he said hesitantly. “I didn’t know for sure, but I guessed that they would be here. But you have to understand that Baker, Boss, and the rest of them wouldn’t just settle down in any random spot in the world. Spring Gate is infected. There are more super powered gangsters, smugglers, thieves, and even aliens than there are baristas,” he rambled nervously. At Yuuri’s blank expression he added, “Do you know how many Starbucks there are in a city? The numbers will baffle you.” “And, pray tell, what does that have to do with us moving here?” “I’ve told you before, haven’t I? Where there are thieves and smugglers, there are things to be thieved and smuggled. We don’t want to be too far from the action.” Before Yuuri could open his mouth to retort, Phichit continued. “There’s no profit without a bit of risk. And I think we are both more than capable of dealing with risk. Besides, we can’t get the kind of rewards that Spring Gate offers in Hasetsu or anywhere else.” “Oh really? There isn’t any place else in the world that has rubies?” Yuuri scoffed. “Of course there is, but—” “Then why the hell did we have to come here of all places?!” he yelled, and Phichit opened his mouth once before blinking, but seemed unable to find the words that would carry him through this conversation. “I-” “I followed you here! I uprooted my life because I trusted you, and you knew all this time that the world’s top heroes were all living here! They could’ve seen me any time at any place without me realizing it—recognized me as Red Specter! You didn’t even warn me! Why didn’t you even think to warn me?!” “Because… because I knew you wouldn’t want to come if I told you.” Yuuri clenched his hands in the air as if to strangle it. “You think?!” “Ok, can I ask you something,” Phichit tried to regain some ground in the argument. “You were the one who said that those four rookies you ran into in the bunker and the museum weren’t a problem so why is it suddenly a problem now? And why are you ok with Winter Torch living here and not Baker and the rest of them? He’s just as risky and you had no complaints when you ran into him twice.”
“He lives here too?!”
“What did you think?! Of course he does! Sure, it’s not like he broadcasts it and he does international work all the time but anyone could’ve—” “I didn’t trust anyone with helping me, Phichit, I trusted you. And you decided to leave out the fact that all the world’s top heroes are now living in this city! It is one thing to have a few chance encounters with someone like Winter Torch, but it’s another thing entirely to knowingly set up camp next to the enemy! “The enemy? Really?” Phichit gave him a mingled look of exasperation and frustration which got Yuuri shouting again. “If they can throw me in prison for good, then yes they are my enemy! I just walked into an examination room, blind to the fact that the patient waiting for me was someone who, given the time, could easily connect me to Red Specter! Just a little information, Phichit! Just a little time is all it takes for someone like Baker to find me out!” “But this is the place that we need to be, Yuuri. I said I would help you, and I am.” “How is this helping? I’m more likely to be offed here than anywhere else! You agreed to help me handle Fujiwara. Do you want me to get caught?” Phichit took a deep breath. “I want to help you. I agreed to help you protect your family. And you. And I’m going to make sure I do that, no matter what the cost is.” “How can I believe that after you lied to me?! After you kept something so incredibly important to yourself?!” “Yuuri,” Phichit began, thinking that now was the time to let his friend know… to tell his friend the beginning of his goodbye. “I… I can’t always…” he trailed off hopelessly, words shriveling up in his throat. He knew what he wanted to say—that he couldn’t always be there to help Yuuri. That Yuuri wouldn’t always be there to help him, because they would soon need to part ways. Not because Phichit didn’t care about him, but because staying would be negligent. Staying would bring destruction. He needed to go where all the other speedsters were and hunt the thief, Ao. But he couldn’t say that. He couldn’t tell his friend the truth because that—tampering with the timeline—would be far worse than lying, than destroying his friendship. “What? You can’t always what?” Yuuri said bitterly, crossing his arms. Phichit was losing his bravery. “I…” but there were no words left. “You can’t always be trustworthy? Yeah, I see that now,” Yuuri fumed before storming out of the kitchen. * Phichit was alone, and biting his lip so that he didn’t cry, he put the Oreos back in the cupboard. He knew what he did was right, there was no doubt about it, but what saddened him was that Yuuri wasn’t wrong, and he feared that he had sacrificed his friendship for a plan that may cause more harm than it was worth. He didn’t know Victor. How could he be sure that he would take care of Yuuri and his family once he was gone? Just because he was a hero, Phichit should trust him? But, what other choice did he have? What other choice was there that would help him time travel, protect his friend, and preserve their friendship? For a while now, he was preparing to not have the same friendship with Yuuri if he ever made it back to him in time… but he never thought to prepare himself for the change in his friendship that would come before he even left. * Yuuri paced his room, running angry fingers through his hair and looked for something to take his frustration out on. Everything in here was too breakable. He just had to live with his thoughts—with the idea of his best friend, his only friend in this country lying to him about something that could get not only him arrested but his family killed. How could Phichit have been so stupid?! It wasn’t even stupid—it was negligent. No. Negligence implied lack of thought, but Phichit purposely left Yuuri out of the loop. He said it himself: he thought Yuuri would refuse to come to Spring Gate if he, Yuuri, knew about all the heroes living here. He purposely disregarded Yuuri’s opinion and for what? There was absolutely nothing that was worth this risk. Except, perhaps, Orion. And now that Yuuri was already on this job, roped into this quest with Lam who had some kind of secret leverage over Yuuri, he couldn’t leave. Lam had offered to kill Fujiwara just to get his hands on Orion. What would Lam do to Yuuri, to his family, if Yuuri left the city and didn’t get Orion? He was trapped. Just the thought of the enormous gem in his closet made a lump rise in his throat. He had nowhere to go—stuck in Spring Gate. And stuck with Phichit who he just learned he couldn’t trust. Maybe Yuuri had been stupid. He hadn’t paid attention to the news as much as he should’ve. He should’ve pieced two and two together when he kept running into Winter Torch. He figured Winter Torch was, like Phichit said, temporarily setting up camp in Spring Gate since it was such a busy city. He thought that this would pass. But he should’ve known. Maybe he had known and didn’t want to think about it. He had wanted to stay here… he had wanted to believe in his best friend. And now, he had no one here that he could talk to. He had done this to himself—volunteer to trap himself in a world where he would be completely alone, dependent, and in constant danger. He couldn’t tell his family because they would worry and there would be nothing they could do about it all the way in Japan. He couldn’t tell Minako because visiting her in jail would be incriminating. She had even forbade him from contacting her for that very reason. He had no one. He ripped the watch off his wrist and threw it against a wall. The glass on it made a crunching noise before falling to the ground. He started stripping off his scrubs and tossing them across the room too. When he threw the pants, his wallet tumbled out letting his cards escape. He sucked his teeth and bent down to pick them up when a soft glint caught his eye. It was Chris’s card with the kiss mark still, remarkably intact. There was still someone.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Early December in Spring Gate was harsh. Cold air fell like a curtain so thick that it even blocked out the stars. Chris was surprised it wasn’t snowing yet, but he figured it was only a matter of time. He smiled at the thought—he loved snow. Snow meant holidays and Victor’s birthday: all excuses to be with his best friend. Normally, he would enjoy the brisk weather much more than he was, but he was slightly uneasy by his company.
If he was being honest, he didn’t expect Red Specter to call him. Especially not months after he had first given Red Specter his card. But, here they were, walking side by side at a leisurely pace down a rural dirt road. He hadn’t said a word, not even when Chris had first greeted him. It was his first time interacting this closely to another jewel thief, so he guessed there were all types. He glanced down at Red Specter, who was still looking straight ahead (difficult to tell with the mask) and matching Chris’ pace. Chris cleared his throat.
“Where we’re going, love, the people know you as Agni’s Cat, but that doesn’t quite sit right with me.” He didn’t get a response so he continued. “I mean, it’s not like you belong to Agni, right?” Red Specter turned his head to him for a brief moment which encouraged Chris to keep going. “A close friend of mine calls you Red, which I think is short and to the point. Do you mind if I call you Red?”
Chris didn’t know much sign language but he recognized “OK” and grinned at that. “Fabulous,” and they kept walking. More silence followed making Chris a bit restless so he piped up again. “Do you know why I steal, Red?”
He could’ve imagined it, but he thought he heard a soft questioning hum. “Because I’m addicted,” he said. “Every time I get my hands on something beautiful, something precious, my heart feels like its experiencing the first day of spring.
Mon amie
…it’s like I’ve found everything I will ever need, everything I need to keep breathing,” he sighed and looked at the black sky. “And then it’s mine and that feeling fades. My insides are dull and wrapped in clover once more. I’m left searching for spring again and again.”
Red looked at the sky too and Chris wondered what he was thinking. He wondered what Red felt when he stole rubies. What was he feeling when he first decided that rubies were his only love? “I should get some points for acknowledging that I have a problem, don’t you think? Though… I don’t plan on fixing that problem,” he chuckled. They had finally arrived. It was an old lumber yard, a tall building of metal slats with the iron doors lifted to reveal the interior. Ancient blocks of lumber, now covered in moss, were stacked in rows and lined the walls like steps. There were two people sitting on these, talking softly together. Chris stopped a few paces away from the entrance, just out of earshot and turned to Red.
“Like I told you on the phone, this meeting is just for evaluating an opportunity. We don’t have to do anything with these guys if we’re not feeling up to it. So let’s just listen, get a feel for them, and we’ll tell them about our decision tomorrow.” He turned when he heard a barking laugh coming from inside then turned back to Red. “If I am being honest, I have never worked with them before, but I’ve been interested for a while now. I just didn’t want to go in alone.” When Red tilted his head in a hesitant way, Chris threw his hands up defensively, “I know, I know,” he said. “You made it very clear on the phone what your intentions are. You don’t have to commit to this partnership until you’re ready. I’m just letting you know what’s happening here.” He asked Red if he was ready and they headed in together.
“Evening gentlemen,” Chris purred at the men sitting on the wood, and they gave both him and Red nasty looks.
“I wasn’t aware that this was an open invitation,” one man spat. He was thin, with a long nose and long red hair braided down his back.
“And I wasn’t aware that Dick Cartier and Agni’s Cat were working together,” the other man grumbled, not taking his eye off Red. He was shorter and stockier than his friend, with curly hair and a scar on the bridge of his nose. “But I suppose it’s
Red Specter
now, isn’t it? That’s what the paper says.”
“Our paths just happened to cross,” Chris said smoothly, “but it seems that we’ll all be working together if this goes well.”
“And that’s a big
if,”
someone hissed and Chris turned to find three more men walk in, their buyers, if their suits were any indication. “Thank you all for joining us tonight,” the man in the middle said and they gestured for Chris and Red to take a seat. They did and the buyers sat on the lumber across from them.
“Tonight,” one of the men began, “is your lucky night. The job we’re offering you is without a doubt, more lucrative than anything you’re accustomed to.”
“And it takes four people to get it done? I doubt it,” the red haired man grunted.
“Ant,” the buyer whispered, “I beg you to let me finish. We did not contact just any run-of-the-mill thieves. We reached out to you three because you're professionals, the best in your particular skill sets. And when Dick Cartier told me that he would be bringing Red Specter along, the prince of rubies himself, it only sweetened the deal. I think, once you've heard the details, you'll be glad to have the extra assistance.”
“I’m listening,” Ant said with a fake and impatient smile.
“Oh, boy,” Chris said under his breath and fought the urge to smack a hand over his face.
“This is no ordinary job,” the buyer resumed. “Even though you will technically be stealing one item, it is in pieces, scattered across the city. Each piece is heavily protected and it would be more efficient to work as a team.”
“A team of two, I believe is sufficient for that,” Ant snapped, crossing his arms. “Tick and I are more than capable of doing this job. I see no need to split the profits.”
“Again, if you’d
listen
, you’d discover that you will each receive three million dollars upon completing this job. You would each be paid handsomely, so there is no reason to fret over splitting profits.” Ant scoffed.
“Ant,” Tick, the shorter thief, whispered and put his hand on Ant’s arm, “just wait…”
“For what? They haven’t given us a good reason why they’re throwing so many bodies at this.”
“Well, if you’d listen to the details—”
“I’ve heard the details.”
The buyer exchanged some looks with his companions before turning back to Ant. He held his hands up and smiled. “Fine,” he said. “How about a team of three instead?”
“What?!”
There were three sickening seconds when Chris saw the barrel of a gun and a sharp
bang
shocked his senses. He closed his eyes willing the breath to return to his body. When he opened them, Ant’s body was lying lifeless on the ground.
Suddenly, Red rose and walked calmly toward the way they came in. Was he leaving?
“I don’t think so,” the buyer who shot Ant said, and he raised his gun at Red’s back. Chris flinched violently as the gun went off again.
No!
He shouted—he thought he shouted, but everyone was still looking at Red… he couldn’t take his eyes off Red.
Who was still standing.
He hadn’t even flinched. And the bullet was hanging like a fly in the air, inches from his shoulder blade.
How is he doing that?
The buyer looked at his gun as if it had spat flowers. The bullet…
Jesus, when did
I
do that?!
Chris thought frantically as he realized he could feel the bullet in his mind, as plainly as if he were holding it between his own fingers. He must’ve stopped it out of instinct. He felt warm… almost giddy from the adrenaline that flowed through him as Red slowly turned around.
Red plucked the bullet from the air and walked back to the buyer who had turned several shades more pale. He stopped inches in front of him, and took the buyer’s hand in his. Placing the bullet in the buyer’s hand, Red leaned in, whispered something.
And then he left.
*
For several reasons, Chris stayed for the remainder of the meeting. It didn’t amount to much since Ant was dead, Tick was distraught, and Red was gone. When Chris left and was safely (though quite shaken) at home, he got a call from Red.
“The job they’re offering is the retrieval of Orion,” Red said in that low rasp. It was clearly a digital modification. “The job is worth way more than they’re offering, but I don’t advise you to go after it.”
“And why might that be,” Chris asked. It had only been a few hours and Red Specter kept surprising him. He was beginning to understand how Victor was feeling.
“Because Orion is mine and I don’t think fighting me for it is in the spirit of partnership.”
Chris took a moment to consider that. Orion must be made of rubies then. He wondered just how much Red was getting for it and whether it was worth it to haggle. But then, he realized something, “Partnership? Does that mean this is official?”
“I scratch your back, you scratch mine. And you showed me tonight that you’ve got mine covered. Let me know if you have any jobs you want to do, and I’ll help you out. No charge.”
“That’s quite generous of you.”
“Just know that my life is worth the monetary equivalent of whatever job you want to do next.”
“So I guess it’s go big or go home, huh?”
“Exactly. I look forward to working with you, DC.”
*
Phichit had just woken up to prepare some breakfast. His head hurt because he had been crying and worrying before falling asleep. It had been four days since he had last spoken to Yuuri, since their fight, and he still couldn't think of anything to say to him. Selfishly, he wanted Yuuri to just forgive him, to push this aside so that they could be friends for however long he had left in this timeline. He needed that. He needed his friendship to be easy again because everything else was just so damn hard. He put on a pot of coffee when the front door opened.
"Yuuri? Where've you been?" Phichit asked on instinct and regretted it when the blank, cold look on Yuuri's face stung him. Yuuri didn't say anything and walked to his bedroom. His chest felt hollow but he didn't have any tears left to cry. Instead, he wrapped his toast in a napkin and poured himself what little coffee was in the pot into a mug. He gathered up his meager breakfast and retreated to his room. When he looked at his work phone, he saw that he had a missed call from Scavenger. He sucked his teeth but set his food on the desk to pick up the phone anyway. At least it would be a distraction.
"Agni," Scavenger barked after two rings.
"Top of the morning to you, Spot," he chimed relishing the agitated growl he got from that. "I'm sorry I missed your call. Is there something I can help you with?"
"Your cat," he said, and Phichit's stomach flipped. The whole reason he decided to call back was to
not
think about Yuuri. "You put him onto that Detroit job."
"Detroit job? I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about."
"Don't give me that! Xiao's bank in Detroit. It only just happened but the whole underworld is talking about it. Your cat and Dick Cartier hit it last night." Phichit felt like he had been doused in cold water. He had no idea what to say.
Last night?
Yuuri was in Detroit just a few hours ago and with
Dick Cartier of all people?!
He thought they had agreed that it was too risky to trust Chris. Why didn't he, Phichit, know about this? Was Yuuri really that angry with him? He laughed to reassure Scavenger, though he felt genuine fear rise in him.
"Contrary to common belief, Red Specter can do as he pleases. Just because I give him jobs to do doesn't mean he isn't perfectly capable of finding jobs on his own or through other channels. Isn't that right, Scavenger? I'm not the only one you go to for information, am I?"
"I don't know what you're implying, but I guess something was different about this time. Your cat... Red Specter isn't usually the flashy type is he?"
"Flashy?"
"He and Dick Cartier raised so much hell last night that I'm surprised they weren't caught. Or that I wasn't there to witness it," he snarled, but the last part still sounded like a sly laugh. "I might be able to get along with Little Red after all."
"Were there..." Phichit lowered the phone and closed his eyes before putting it back to his ear. "Were there any bodies?"
"No."
"Oh."
"Well..."
"What?!"
"It depends on what you count as a body. Nobody was killed, but there were plenty of injuries and Xioa's bank was sucked dry. It pays to be ferrokinetic. I'm assuming it's still too early for you to have known all this, otherwise this wouldn't exactly be news to you, would it. I only know because one of my buddies saw the whole thing happen. I never knew Red had it in him. Dick Cartier wasn't a surprise, but Red...
man.
It's a pity though."
"What's a pity?"
"All that and he still won't break the four star rating."
"What? But you said there were injuries. Intentionally harming civilians..." Phichit's mouth opened in a soft 'o' as he suddenly understood. "Xiao. He was dirty."
"Looks like it. When those two attacked the bank, they uncovered a lot of damning evidence revealing his connection to the mafia. Xiao was foul. Red will be lucky to scrape a three star rating after this since it'll look too much like villain on villain violence, or even vigilantism considering Red's past."
Phichit heaved a small sigh of relief. "You wear your four like a badge of honor."
"It's one of many badges, Agni. But it isn't worth anything if I can't put it to use."
"I'm not following."
"You haven't been giving me any jobs. And with all this competition in Spring Gate and now in neighboring cities like Detroit, I'm starting to think that this town isn't big enough for me. If you can't give me work, let me know so I can get out of dodge."
"I...I think that might actually be best for you, Scavenger. As you know, I work internationally, so I can help you where ever you go, but I think Spring Gate is too small for you."
"What?! Say that again."
Phichit, blinked and pulled the phone away for a second to look at it with confusion. "I... I said that Spring Gate is too small for you."
"No, you're saying that I'm too weak for the competition!"
"Scavenger," Phichit said, completely baffled, "
you
called me.
You
were the one who suggested getting out of dodge!"
"That was an ultimatum! Agni, I don't tolerate radio silence well. You have a simple job that I pay you well for and that's to find places for me to hit. I expect you to do that, because I'm not going
anywhere."
"Of course."
"Nothing will change that! Not Red Specter, not Dick, not Winter Torch, not
you.
I'll
never
leave Spring Gate," he declared, in what Phichit thought was a rather desperate tone. And then he hung up.
Phichit puffed out a sigh as the weight of yet another unwelcome task settled on his shoulders. Even though Scavenger avoided hurting civilians, he was no priest. He got his four star rating by intentionally endangering the lives of law enforcement, or to put it more bluntly, throwing a molotov cocktail at a squad of officers who had him surrounded outside of a museum. He didn't like to think about what Scavenger might do if he got too restless. He never worried about him before, but it wasn't worth taking the risk. He sucked his teeth because he really didn't need this at the moment.
He needed to talk to Yuuri. He scarfed down his toast and drained his cup before zooming to Yuuri's room. His fist hesitated on the door. He wasn't sure how this was going to go, but he figured things couldn't get worse than they already were. He might as well satisfy his curiosity. He knocked.
Yuuri opened the door but didn't step aside to let Phichit in. He was clearly unwelcome.
"I'm trying to sleep," he said plainly.
"Long night?"
"What do you want?"
"Yuuri," he said taking a deep breath, "I heard you made a hit on Xiao's bank. With Dick Cartier."
"Yeah."
"Well... I thought... Yuuri, do you even know if you can trust Chris? I thought you weren't going to call him."
"Turns out trust isn't really that important to me."
Phichit looked down at his socks to avoid Yuuri's eyes while he tried to reclaim his courage. "I understand that you're mad at me and I'm not here to talk about that specifically. I just don't want your anger to keep you from seeing Chris clearly. Sure, civilian Chris may be trustworthy, but Dick Cartier is a wild card. Be clear on what he wants from you so that you don't end up hurt."
"He doesn't want anything from me," Yuuri said, and closed the door.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Sprinting across rooftops away from Winter Torch in broad daylight was a feeling unlike anything Yuuri had ever experienced. The biting wind did nothing for how hot he felt. Every nerve in him was an electric circuit. His heart beat a burning rhythm that echoed in his stomach. He couldn’t feel Orion’s weight on his back. The tell-tale hiss of fire told him that Winter Torch was close. He didn’t dare look behind him. People shrieked in surprise every time he jumped to another building. He just needed to be out of Victor’s sights for five seconds, and he could blend into the crowd. He kept sprinting, gearing up for the next jump. It was further this time. He steadied his breathing, eyes locking onto the roof in front of him. He was about to jump when a wall of white fire blocked his path, sprouted from the very spot that he wanted to jump to. He stumbled to a stop. Ah, come on! If he landed there, he would surely be burned. He eyed the menacing flames before him, panicked as he watched them flicker on the window panes beneath them. Think, Yuuri! Sweat rolled down his neck and he turned. Winter Torch was smiling at him. Just a few feet away. “I must say, your endurance is unparalleled,” he said smoothly as he walked towards Yuuri. “But, why don’t we give it a rest?” Yuuri’s heart thrummed in his chest as he turned his back on Victor. Not this time, he thought. He sprinted headlong for the flames on the other side. He jumped. Screwing his eyes shut, he braced himself for the agony that the flames would surely bring. But there was nothing, and he landed cleanly on a glass window. He didn’t have time to sort through his relief or confusion so he shattered the window with his fist for an escape. He tumbled down in a shower of glass. Shocked screams and gasps erupted around him. A cacophony of trumpets and drums came to a clumsy stop. He got to his feet and almost fell over—that fall was higher than he anticipated. Panicked murmuring filled the air and Yuuri stumbled backwards into something soft. He turned on his heel and was nose to nose with a smiling alligator. He yelped and jumped back at the same time the alligator did. Now that he was looking properly, he realized he had busted through the roof of a college pep rally. He turned around, taking in all the terrified painted faces.
It’s Red Specter!
Didn’t you hear what happened in Detroit?
It’s him!
Just then, something else fell through the roof like a shimmering, white comet. Winter Torch. Screams turned into excited shouts of recognition. He stood and looked around. His attention fell on Yuuri and when their eyes met, the gym fell silent. Victor was several yards away in a wide open space which was to his advantage. But, they were in a packed gym which was to Yuuri’s advantage. If he used his power. Which he wouldn’t. He could probably take Victor in a fight if he got close enough. But, he couldn’t do that here. Not with so many people in the way. Someone could get hurt. Yuuri swore he could hear Victor’s heart beating. He turned and ran. Students in band uniforms stumbled out of his way as he pushed through the doors. He only had a few seconds head start and he didn’t waste them. He emptied out all of his smoke screens and set them off. * Victor burst through the exit door not seconds after Red Specter had and was met with a dense wall of smoke. “No!” he shouted. He waved his arms in front of him to no avail. He opened his hand and a lantern sized flame appeared in his palm. It didn’t take long to realize that no amount of light would pierce this veil. Red could be long gone at this point. Or standing so close that an eyelash wouldn’t fit between them, hiding in the smoke and taunting him. He turned around, holding the flame in front of him as if the black mask would reveal itself, a true specter in this cloud. He could be here. He could be watching. But common sense told Victor that Red wouldn’t do that. The man that refused to take advantage of a perfect hostage situation would not hide in shadows to attack Victor. He would make his escape. He would be hoping to never encounter Victor again. * Every muscle in Yuuri’s body ached as he shouldered the door to his apartment open. He was starting to get used to this, being in pain. The backpack containing Orion slid off his shoulder and he limped to the kitchen. Too tired to reach for a glass, he turned the faucet on and bent his head underneath the stream. He sighed when the cool water splashed his face. He didn’t bother to dry his face but turned the faucet off and slid his back down the kitchen sink until he was sitting on the floor. The dishes were dirty, so he decided he should take a quick power nap before tackling them. The day was still young after all— he could see slats of cool, winter light splashing against the blue sofa in the living room. Just ten minutes…and then he’d get some more work done.
Yuuri.
Someone was calling him but he was too busy washing his ruby plates. They were so beautiful when they were clean and sparkly. Who had decided to put food on them in the first place? That’s not what these plates were for. They were for admiring, for getting lost in a deep hue. Lam understood that, but he was so annoying. He wanted to take the plates away from Yuuri. They were his. He got them fair and square. Who cares if they were family? Lam could get his own ruby plates…
Yuuri!
Lam didn’t like Yuuri saying that to him. He was angry, yelling at Yuuri, and he wouldn’t stop. His mother frowned at Yuuri. Did she think he was being selfish? Well… it couldn’t hurt to give him just one plate…
Yuuri! Wake up!
“What?!” Yuuri jumped when he found a shadow hanging over him. He rubbed his eyes. It was dark. “You fell asleep here.” The shadow was Phichit. He groaned when he remembered the dishes. He had wanted to do some chores, maybe even take a break. But he had wasted time sleeping. “How long was I out,” he asked groggily, hoping that he could still fit something in. “Judging by your chic choice in clothing,” Phichit said, plucking at the stealth suit’s sleeve, “I’m guessing since early this afternoon.” “What?” “Yuuri,” Phichit sighed and the worry etching his features were even clear to see in the dark. He pulled out his phone and typed something in before handing it to Yuuri. It was an aerial video of him running across rooftops like he had just seen death himself with Victor close behind. He couldn’t focus on what the reporter was saying. Seeing the chase from this perspective was strange and made his muscles ache at the memory. “Why would you do this job in the daytime?” Phichit asked, “Why didn’t you wait until night? There would’ve been better cover and less witnesses.” Now that Yuuri was starting to wake up, he remembered that he was ticked with Phichit, that he didn’t want to talk to him. He was still sorting out how he felt about Phichit lying to him. If he was being honest, there wasn’t much to sort out because it was mostly anger that he felt. At this point, he was just looking for reasons to not be angry and those were hard to come by, especially since the more he thought about it, the more questions he had for Phichit. He couldn’t even ask those questions because something told him that he wouldn’t get a straight answer. He wouldn’t get the truth. And that made getting over his anger laughable. He stood up and stretched before taking his stealth suit’s gloves off to start the dishes. He heard Phichit suck his teeth quietly behind him but he ignored that too. “I get it. You’re angry at me. But I’ve been here for you since the beginning and we’ve always done this a certain way. We’ve never taken unnecessary risks like this before. I’m just trying to understand why you’re doing this now.” “You told me weeks ago that this piece would be transported to that technological hell-hole too, so I wanted to get it before that happened.” “Ok, but there are better ways! You jumped the gun! It wasn’t due to be transported for another couple of days!” “But I still got it.” “Y-yeah but, Yuuri, did you really want to be all over the news?” “Just because I didn’t do things your way doesn’t mean it wasn’t the right way,” Yuuri grumbled as he thrust a plate in the dishwasher. “I never said that, and you know that, Yuuri. I just want you to consider your safety. Winter Torch was after you, right? In the day he uses flames. He can do a lot more damage to you during the day than he would during the night with his water and ice powers. You remember last time,” he said darkly and Yuuri felt the ghost of a burn on his leg. “You could get seriously hurt if you keep taking chances like this.” “If we’re talking about tactical advantage,” Yuuri dropped his sponge as he remembered the flames from earlier. They were tall, and Yuuri was sure he would be crying out in agony as soon as he touched them. But he didn’t feel a thing. It was like the flames weren’t there at all. Maybe Victor only wanted to scare Yuuri into not jumping and didn’t actually want to hurt him? It made sense. Victor didn’t have a reason for trying to fry him with the same flames he used on villains like Pyre. He smiled. “I think I’ll be stealing during the day from now on.” “W-what?! Yuuri, why would you say that?!” Phichit blustered. “If I steal during the day, Victor has to hold back because he doesn’t want to hurt me. Fighting someone who is constantly holding back is an advantage for me. I just have to get close to him for hand to hand. But if I risk going at night, he doesn’t have to hold back. Water and ice doesn’t need to do damage to be effective. He could trap me in less than a second.” “Yuuri, that’s insane! We could figure out a way for you to—” “No, I want to do this my way. I want to get this job over with so I can leave Spring Gate.” He shut the dishwasher and limped out of the kitchen. “Ok, but—” “I’m going out.” “Yuuri, you’ll get hurt. Victor will hurt you. Maybe not on purpose but…” Phichit reached for Yuuri’s shoulder and he pulled away. “I don’t care, Phichit. I’ve been burned before. It’s not a big deal.” * This particular piece of Orion was being kept in the basement of a museum. It was too easy to take, but he called Chris, just in case, since he was still sore from that afternoon. He told Phichit that he would start stealing during the day, but this was an exception. He couldn’t steal from such a public place during the day because the likelihood of someone getting hurt was higher with all the museum patrons present. He and Chris were lucky though, because Winter Torch didn’t show up. There didn’t even seem to be any security officers on duty, so they were done within the hour. They had no troubles getting out of the museum either. Apparently, something was drawing the heroes’ attention elsewhere, which suited Yuuri just fine. When they both left through the back entrance, to Yuuri’s surprise, Chris kissed Yuuri’s hand and winked before turning to leave. Yuuri rolled his eyes and thought about how if he had known Dick Cartier sooner, he would’ve immediately pinned him as Christophe Giacometti, because it was so obvious now. He hoped, for Chris’ sake, that no one else knew his alter ego, because Chris wasn’t the best at keeping his identity a secret. He decided not to take his motorcycle home because, judging by the explosions in the air, traffic was not going to be merciful. Tis the season, he thought as a particularly loud boom shook the buildings around him. Villains tended to lose their minds during the holidays. When the city got like this, officers often did random vehicle checks too… Yuuri didn’t want to have to explain to a police officer why his book bag weighed thirty pounds. He would have to hoof it. * “How are you holding up, Victor?” “If I don’t think about it, I’m doing excellent,” Victor told Yakov through his comm link with as much optimistic bite as possible as he sprinted uptown. He had been fighting since the morning. The alien tiger that was running loose in a cafe. The enormous yeti that disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. Red Specter. Ms. Million. An alien-banshee like creature. And that was just during daylight hours. To start off the night’s revelry, a giant spider was tormenting civilians uptown. Then hell broke loose all at once: serial bomber Bombard, markswoman Ginny Clay, the acrobatic thief Fanfare, and a vicious rabbit-gator all decided to make an appearance at the same time. It would’ve been easier if there was at least one more five star hero at History Maker. Hell, even a four star could’ve handled the tiger or the rabbit-gator. But unfortunately, Victor was stuck on a wild helicopter goose chase because Spotlight and 88, the only two at the agency who had five star aspirations, weren’t quite ready for jobs like this yet. The night’s events pushed Victor’s hand though. After all, he couldn’t be in more than one place at once. He sent 88 and half a police unit to track down the rabbit-gator which was somehow mulitplying, Spotlight and the other half after Fanfare, and two police units to corner Ginny Clay, just until he could get around to each incident. He technically shouldn’t have left three star heroes alone with four star jobs, but he had no other choice. He made quick work of each task, moving his way from the spider (who he jokingly referred to as Aragog to Yakov’s confusion) all the way to Fanfare within two hours. As expected, 88 and Spotlight dealt with both situations admirably. All rabbit-gators were in custody and Spotlight was holding his own against Fanfare when Victor arrived to help. Spotlight tried to convince Victor to let them keep fighting. Victor truly wanted to give them their moment to shine, but there was no time. He still had Ginny Clay to deal with and she was alone with all those officers on the other side of town. It was rough because Victor was exhausted—his power dwindling inside him— but he managed to finish the fight with Fanfare by putting icy weights around his nimble ankles. He made a note of that for the next time he met Red Specter. He briefly thanked the officers and reassured a pouting Spotlight before signaling to the helicopter. The ladder dropped and, with leaden feet and heaving lungs, he started climbing. Keep pushing, he told himself. He needed to last the night. His arms wailed in protest as he hoisted himself up, and he thought longingly for Makkachin. Over the din of the helicopter rotor, Victor could just make out Spotlight’s shouting voice. What now? He looked down, trying to find Spotlight in the crowd of officers. When he did, he saw a pair of bright yellow eyes. His breath caught in his throat.
The yeti.
It screeched like a monstrous ape. Victor lost his grip on the ladder and fell hard on his back. His eyes watered in pain but he forced himself to his feet. The yeti had bright red fur and was taller than the street lamp it was standing next to. It snorted, puffs of white air spilling from its saucer sized nostrils. “Everyone get back!” Spotlight ordered. Victor struck his hands out, sending frozen shards at the beast’s chest. They stuck and the yeti howled in pain before turning away behind a building. “Not so fast, Curious George!” Victor muttered as he ran after it, but when he rounded the building, the Yeti was gone. Completely gone. His heart pounded and he tried to clear his head. There was no way a giant bright red monster could disappear down a completely open street. He swiveled his head but only saw upturned cars, scattering people, and officers shouting orders and signaling to their partners. Human chaos. He didn’t have time for this. There was still Ginny Clay. He tried to ignore the aching in his back as he made his way back to the ladder and climbed up. He arrived in ten minutes, and he could hear Ginny’s mad cackling even from up in the helicopter. But, perhaps that was just a memory manifesting as reality when he saw her atop the hood of a burning police car. There was a pool of discarded weapons around her and she was firing relentlessly at the officers surrounding her. Victor thought with a grimace that Pyre, her younger brother, would be proud. Victor noticed the one-sided barrage and realized the officers were holding out and not engaging, just like Victor had requested. It was time to give them a break. From the helicopter, he lifted his hands upwards as if raising a window, and a wall of ice appeared on the ground between Ginny and the officers. The officers peeked out from behind their shields and car doors to see why the firing had stopped, and cheered when they saw Victor jumping down from the helicopter. Ginny only laughed harder. “How’s your brother doing,” Victor taunted. “How are your stitches doing?” She shot back, “You didn’t rip them after having fun with everyone else today, did you?” “You know, I’m tired after all that fun, so let’s cut the small talk.” Victor stomped his foot and Ginny shot her rifle. They were both quick— Ginny gripped by a giant fist made of ice, and raised into the air away from the rifle, and a bullet barely missing Victor’s left eye. He gasped in pain as his back screamed from the effort of dodging Ginny’s shot. But it was over. He slumped against the nearest police car and nodded at Ginny who was shrieking obscenities, struggling against the icy fist. “She’s all yours,” he said to the nearest officer, and she patted him on the shoulder before closing in on Ginny with three more partners. Moving his fingers, he carefully allowed the fist to open, so the officers could safely apprehend Ginny. Apparently, she wanted to go down swinging. She kicked and tried to pull away. Her manic screaming concerned Victor and he stood up to go help the two officers trying to restrain her. Another officer patted his back. “It’s fine,” he said. “We can handle this much. I heard you had a rough day, so why don’t you take a break?” Victor looked at Ginny throwing her wild mane that was so like her brother’s, and then back at the officer. He smiled. “I appreciate that, but…” “The paramedics are almost here. If you’re hurt, you can—” He caught one glimpse of motion. He heard one gasp. He pushed the officer talking to him down at the same time he heard the gun fire. Gritting his teeth, he destroyed the gun Ginny had stolen with ice. Then he raised clawed hands in front of him and twisted. Jagged ice encased her hands and feet, rendering them useless. She screamed and fell over. He kept his arms in the air, panting, still watching Ginny. He watched the officers drag her into the back of an armored truck. They closed it. He watched more officers crowd around the one Ginny had overpowered. The truck pulled off. Now it was over. His hands fell limp at his sides. He took a step back and his knee buckled. He braced himself on a police car and chuckled to himself as he bent over. That was hell, he thought to himself as he eyed a strange pattern on the concrete. He had never worked so long. He had never been so busy. But he did it. Strategized that himself. The pattern on the concrete was growing. He let Red Specter go, but that was the only loss for the day… besides the red yeti. He could catch a yeti. It was red. Hard to miss. Like the red pattern growing on the concrete. Drops of blackish red, like scattered rubies. He could catch Red too, no problem. He sucked in a shallow breath and whimpered when he felt it stab at his side. The drops on the concrete grew. He touched his side gingerly and looked at his stained gloves. Oh. Not again. He was bleeding. Wasn’t it in the same place as last time? Crap. He would need stitches again. But not here. Victor looked up when he heard sirens. The officers were talking amongst themselves, crowding around 88 and Spotlight who had just arrived. They weren’t even paying attention to him. Lucky. He shuffled away, not quite clear on where he wanted to go. Anywhere was fine. Then he’d call Yakov. He limped past a few buildings, and turned down an alleyway. Was anyone paying attention to him? He hoped not. Victor eased himself onto the ground. He would just sit here and rest. And then call Yakov. He would close his eyes. For just a second. It had been such a long day… * Yuuri kept jogging across rooftops, sticking to the shadows and taking advantage of the chaos of the night. People were scrambling to take cover inside buildings or else running in the streets in search of their loved ones. Evacuation during hero related crises were usually taken very seriously in Spring Gate and often resulted in the streets resembling a ghost town. The holiday season was an entirely different monster though. It was always chaos. He jumped down into a dark alley, figuring he should change into some civilian clothes now that there were so many people around. Just as he reached the shadows, he tripped over something and he threw his hands out against the brick wall to catch himself.
What the…?
He looked down to see what tripped him. Someone was laying down, back slumped against a dumpster. Yuuri’s heart caught in his throat as he took a cautious step closer. Did someone get hurt and miss the paramedics? He couldn’t see the person’s face in this lighting at all… he stooped and reached for their knee to give them a gentle shake. Two flashes of white light pierced the darkness—two burning eyes. Yuuri gasped and leapt back. Before he could escape, ice crusted over his right shoulder and cemented his foot to the ground. “Aaargh!” His fingers scrambled at his shoulder, at the cold that was so intense that it was hot, and the ice started to chip. He batted frantically at it until it was all gone and yanked his foot free too. He heard Victor hiss something, and then Yuuri was drenched from head to toe. He shook his hands to get rid of some of the excess and took a step back, but… he couldn’t leave. Something was wrong. It shouldn’t have been that easy to break that ice… even the rose Victor had given him was still intact, months after it was made. Victor was hurt again. * Just my luck. Victor thought bitterly as Red Specter swam in and out of his vision. He aimed more ice at Red’s hand this time but Red dodged. He sucked his teeth and tried to steady his vision. Tried to regain his strength. It was pointless. He couldn’t move. He wondered what Red would do now that he, Victor, was completely immobilized. His heart beat so fast he felt nauseous. He didn’t want this to happen, but he couldn’t stop it. He watched Red get down on his knees and take something out of his belt. He didn’t want to look but he kept his eyes trained on Red’s every movement, watched him put something on his head. It was a light, and now it looked like a small star was fixed to the head of a shadow. Victor shivered as his breathing started ripping out of him. Red reached for him and Victor slapped his hand away. This is not happening. Why is he doing this? Victor screwed his eyes shut and when he opened them again Red was holding his hands up as if in surrender. He had to do something to make Red go away. He felt as weak as roadkill. His power felt so small inside him. But he still pulled at it, willing it to materialize. He felt the ground underneath them frost over and delicate snowflakes floated in front of Red’s face. “`Tchyo za ga`lima?!” Victor swore. That was all he had left in him. A few tufts of snow, and he was completely spent. It was disgraceful. He could no longer control his breathing, each inhale ripping his side in two. Red gingerly took Victor’s hand in both of his and squeezed. He leaned in and pressed his forehead to Victor’s. What? It was just a second. He could’ve imagined it. That timid touch. That second when they were close. And now Red was looking at him again with Victor’s hand in his as if waiting for something. Red pulled out a phone with one hand, still keeping Victor’s hand in the other, and typed something before showing him.
Who did this?
Victor blinked at the bright screen, not sure he understood. “Ginny Clay,” he choked out and Red nodded. He put the phone back in his pocket and began pulling at the frayed pieces of Victor’s suit, exposing the wound. Then, he took things out of his utility belt. Victor hadn’t realized that he had calmed down until he started panicking again. Red took his gloves off. His hands were soft and snowy, a hint of olive, and seeing the natural hue instead of the black fabric seemed sinister and foreboding. Red poured something that stung Victor’s nose on his hands, rubbed them together and procured latex gloves. He snapped them on. He pulled out a thick roll of what looked like gauze and held it up to his mouth before tapping it on Victor’s. Victor didn’t understand and tried to look away again. Red tapped the gauze under Victor’s chin and when Victor opened his mouth to tell Red to stop, Red pushed the roll firmly between his teeth. Victor screamed, but it sounded like a strangled gargle behind the gauze. With one more firm hand squeeze, Red started to move more quickly. He doused Victor’s side in something that felt almost as bad as Pyre’s flames and Victor choked out another strangled scream. A spasm rolled up his back. He needed someone to come get him. Yakov. Anybody. He needed help. He blinked, tears gushing down his face and looked up at the dark sky, which was closing in on him, a small space becoming so tight and compact around him. Closing in, building pressure, making a bomb…getting colder… He gasped in vain for air. The gauze was choking him. Red put a hand on his forehead and leaned in again. Very close. He could see grey threaded into the black… so it was Pandora’s iron after all. Red was so close that Victor felt warm. That was strange. He should feel cold since he was shot, but he felt as if he were taking a bath. His vision was tainted with the faintest pink—blood?—and Red leaned even closer, his cheek next to Victor’s ear.
“Relax.”
And he did. The soft whisper ran through him, pulling strings and carrying out the simple command. His breathing slowed instantly from frantic gusts to calm whispers. His muscles fell flat in him, and the warmth in him stirred. He would be disturbed at how fast his body calmed down—he knew it was logical to be disturbed—but he physically couldn’t be. Even though he was very aware of the pain tearing his abdomen in two, he felt… calm. And Red set back to work. Victor trained his eyes on the sky, not wanting to see Red’s hands and, thankfully, it didn’t feel so close anymore. The pain, prodding, and tugging made him feel nauseous. A terrible pull made him whimper against the gauze, and then he heard a tiny clink. The smell of iron floated in the air around them and he groaned—the thought of all the blood made him woozy. It was almost unbearable and as the searing sensation of stitches came next, Victor was glad he had the gauze to bear down on. Otherwise, he didn’t think he would make it. The spot Red was fixing felt like a white hot brand when it seemed to finally be over. Red removed the gauze from Victor’s mouth then took his comm link. Victor was too far gone to protest. Then it was back in his ear, static running before he heard Yakov as if from the depth of the sea. “Victor? You were supposed to check in when you finished up with Ginny Clay. What’s your ETA?” Through his bleary pink vision, Victor saw Red busying himself putting his light and tools away. “Victor?” It was unclear to Victor what he should do as a hero in that moment. Winter Torch, the symbol of justice and perfection should tell Yakov about Red immediately. But he didn’t feel like a hero. Winter Torch was so far out of reach and this person, Red Specter, was right here next to him, making him feel like…just… Victor. Normal, tired, wounded Victor. Yakov said something again, but Victor was confused—where was Red going?—and he was too tired to keep his eyes open, let alone move his lips.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Phichit put his phone on the coffee table and stretched out on the sofa. He had just found a suitable job for Scavenger in Spring Gate. Hopefully, he thought as he turned Netflix on, that would keep him satisfied for a while. It would at least keep him from lashing out at the public. “Not all heroes wear capes,” Phichit muttered to himself, making himself comfortable. But then again, he supposed he was making more work for the actual heroes. Just then, the door opened, and Phichit turned to see Yuuri drift in, and shrug off his heist backpack. It made a large clack sound when it hit the floor so Yuuri must’ve gotten another Orion piece. At least it wasn’t daytime. Yuuri floated into the kitchen with a far off expression on his face. He turned the faucet on and stared at the wall. “Uh… Yuuri?” Phichit hedged, not wanting to set off a bomb. “Are you ok?” “Yeah,” Yuuri murmured, which surprised Phichit who fully expected to either be ignored or snapped at. He got up and went to the kitchen to lean on the counter next to him. “Did something happen?” “Yeah.” “Ok… what was it?” Yuuri looked over his shoulder at him, the faucet still running. He looked flushed and his eyes were unfocused like he had a fever. Phichit was starting to worry. “I used my power.” A chill ran down Phichit’s neck and he fought the urge to smile and grab Yuuri. He took a second to train his voice into an even tone in his mind. “I see. What for?” Yuuri seemed to realize something and he turned off the faucet. He opened the cabinets and pulled out a metal mixing bowl. Then, he bent down to grab rubbing alcohol from under the sink. Phichit shook his head, trying to make sense of it. “Yuuri,” he asked, “what’s happening?” Yuuri didn’t respond but poured half the bottle of alcohol into the bowl then pulled a pair of bloody gloves out of his utility belt and threw those in too. Phichit’s eyes widened at them. “Yuuri, what the hell?! What happened?!” “I used my power on Victor,” he said. “Ok! Uh… What the hell? Did you leave any evidence? Do we need to call someone?” “Phichit,” Yuuri laughed softly and pulled a lighter from one of the drawers. He set the gloves ablaze. “I used my power to help him, not hurt him.”Phichit exhaled and threw his hands in his hair in relief. “Why didn’t you just say that…? Why did Victor need help?” “Ginny Clay shot him. He was bleeding out in an alley when I found him.”“Ay, Victor! I swear no one has cheated death more than that man,” he shook his head sympathetically. He leaned in to get a better look at Yuuri’s face now that he knew what was happening. Back at the Grand Prix, Yuuri got hazy and weak after using his power. Phichit thought sourly that this explained why Yuuri was even talking to him. Yuuri was too mentally weak to hold a grudge right now. “How did it feel,” he asked, figuring he shouldn’t be choosy at this point. “Are you alright?” “It was great. And yeah.” “And Victor? How is he?” “Probably fine…” “Was this the first time since…” he trailed off, not wanting to mention Corentin Thomas, the student at the Grand Prix who Yuuri accidentally hurt all those years ago. “Yeah,” Yuuri confirmed dreamily, picking up on what Phichit meant but seemingly unaffected. “Wow,” Phichit whistled. “I can’t imagine going that long without using something that’s just so… me.” “It’s not like I haven’t thought about it. That time in the armored truck… and then again a few nights ago with Chris...I was really close to using my power those times too.” Phichit raised his eyebrows at that, as this was news to him, but he didn’t want to seem too excited. “Both times, everyone’s attention was on me, so it was perfect. I could feel my power reacting...I could’ve used it. I was about to… but I couldn’t.” Phichit remembered the eerie sensation of Yuuri’s power. You always felt it before Yuuri actually used it. Once you had your attention on him, his power was activated, and you felt warm, kind of dumb, and you were completely unable to look away, whether he decided to actually use it or not. Phichit had only managed to convince Yuuri to use his powers a few times back at the Grand Prix, but it had been years since they had talked about this, years since Yuuri had actually admitted to thinking about his ability. “Why was this time different?” Phichit asked and watched Yuuri stare at the flames in the bowl. He seemed to be lost in them, his eyes getting foggier. Phichit gently shook Yuuri’s shoulder and he jumped, like he had forgotten Phichit was there. “Yuuri? Why was this time different?” “Victor needed help,” he said, as if it were obvious. “Yeah, but I’m still confused. Why did you need to use your power to help him?” “He was panicking,” Yuuri explained as he leaned on the counter. “He wouldn’t sit still for me even after I held his hand, so I told him to relax.” Phichit pursed his lips on a smile that was fighting so hard to betray his face. “You held his hand?” Yuuri straightened up and reached to pull another big bowl out of the cabinets. He poured the rest of the alcohol in this one and dumped several bloody medical tools into them. He procured some baking soda and dumped the whole box on the flames to put them out. “I have to go,” he said, and Phichit realized that Yuuri was finally coming to. He, Phichit, was back to being ignored. His heart fell as he followed Yuuri out of the kitchen. “Where are you going? It’s like two in the morning and you already got two Orion pieces.” “The hospital.” And Phichit understood. After getting stitches in a dark alley from a villain, Victor would definitely be taken to a hospital to be examined and he would only let Yuuri touch him, so… Phichit sighed and zoomed in front of Yuuri who gave him a cold look. Yep. Definitely back to normal. Wait, is this normal for me now? “Yuuri, I know you’re still angry with me. And maybe… we can’t be friends like we used to be,” he said, trying to keep his voice strong though his chest ached at the words. “But, I think we should still work together. From a business standpoint, you know?” Yuuri narrowed his eyes at that and crossed his arms, waiting for Phichit to explain, so he did. “You may not care about cameras anymore, so you don’t need me to wipe them, but you’ll need help with security systems just like the armored truck or Stint’s mansion. I can also provide surveillance—I can tell you who’s in a building and where. You shouldn’t have to go into a dangerous situation blind just because I… I did something to lose your trust. If you’re willing, we could still work together, Yuuri.” Yuuri seemed to consider it as he looked at Phichit. “If it’s just business, then it’s fine” he said, and turned to go to his room. It hurt, but at least it was something, Phichit thought. And then he remembered. “Yuuri, one more thing!” and Yuuri turned around at his door. “I got Lam to agree to service fees! I had to appeal to his ego as a filthy rich socialite. I guess he didn’t want other people in his circle to think he didn’t have money to spare. Peer pressure is a good thing sometimes, don’t you think?” Yuuri’s cold expression twitched. “And you did that without even murdering him,” he said before closing his bedroom door. Phichit grinned and plopped back onto the couch. It was very possible that Yuuri was closer to forgiving him than he thought. * As Yuuri suspected, he got called in to treat Victor. It was Boss' request, as Victor was unconscious, a hand towel covering his face to protect his identity while he was powered down. If he was being honest, he desperately wanted to lie down and sleep off this lingering feeling of weakness. He felt as if he would topple over at any second, but Victor was the priority. He knew his stitch work was fine, but he wanted to be absolutely sure that nothing else was wrong with Victor. Also, he had a feeling that Boss wouldn’t take too kindly to Yuuri fainting in the examination room. Yuuri glanced over his shoulder at Boss as he set up Victor’s IV. Boss was intimidating. He was short, balding, and had a permanent scowl on his face like a grumpy old man, but something about him still made Yuuri very nervous. It was like Boss knew exactly who Yuuri was but wasn’t going to mention it until it suited him. This was the aura of a retired pro, Yuuri thought. This man had the power to subdue an enemy just by being in the same room as them. He didn’t even need to use his power. He just needed to get a good look at his target and that person would be finished. Yuuri thought avoiding eye contact would be suspicious so he made sure to be friendly and professional as he discussed Victor’s condition with him. “How can you be so sure that he’ll be ok,” Boss demanded. Yuuri worked hard not to gulp as he finished up with the IV. “The stitches are actually very neat and clean,” he explained as he walked around the bed to stand in front of Boss. “Also, after running some tests, I can tell that there’s nothing left behind in the wound that we would need to retrieve. Everything else looks good, including his vitals.” “You misunderstand,” Yakov said as he placed a hand on the railing of Victor’s bed. “I want to know how you, a nurse, can be trusted with this job. There are certain procedures I’m sure only a doctor knows how to do, like those tests you mentioned. I think that while he’s still unconscious, we should let a professional take a look.” “I’ve… I’ve treated Winter Torch before,” Yuuri said quietly, feeling his face grow hot and something stirring in his stomach. “And those were just stitches, which you are perfectly capable of doing. But this time, he was shot, and if there’s any shrapnel or broken bone left in his wound, he could die. I’d rather let a professional check over your work.” “I am a professional,” Yuuri blurted, and then he realized that the feeling stirring in his stomach was anger. “I’m a professional nurse. We save lives every day. And… I guess that’s still not convincing enough to you, but I’ve been doing this for a very long time,” he stormed and before he could stop it, the anger he had since he was a child began speaking for him. “I was fourteen when I pulled a bullet out of a yakuza member's heart with a gun pointed to my head. Other doctors were doing their science homework when they were fourteen. Not knowing what to do was never an option for me! I still save lives as if my own is at stake because that’s just what I do. That’s what I’ll always do.” Yuuri matched Boss’ heavy stare as his heart pounded in his chest. He had no idea how that all came out of his mouth. It was stupid and reckless. He couldn’t take it back. He didn’t want to either. When it came to this, to snatching someone back from death, he knew exactly what he was doing. He wouldn’t let anyone take that away from him. Not even Boss, whose gaze felt like a physical weight pushing him against a wall. His pride may have landed him in a tough spot though. “So,” Boss finally said, “what you’re saying is, you’ve got this under control.” “Always.” “Good,” he grunted. Victor stirred and mumbled under his hand towel. Yuuri and Boss’ attention both snapped to him as he reached feebly for the towel covering his face. Yuuri hurried to his side to hold his hand. “Winter Torch,” he said. “It’s me, Nurse Katsuki. You’re in the hospital right now, but you’re going to be alright. Boss is here too.” “Yuuri…” Victor whispered making Yuuri’s heart flutter. This time, he made a point not to look at Boss. There were also a few things he needed to know, he thought as he swallowed nervously. He couldn’t have a repeat of Corentin Thomas. “Winter Torch… how do you feel?” “Like death.” Yuuri smiled sympathetically. “I’m so sorry. You’ll probably have a fever after this, but I’ll take good care of you. How’s your hearing?” Corentin, along with Yuuri’s other classmates from that year reported hearing bells after Yuuri lost control. “…’s fine.” “Do you mind if I check your vision?” Some saw pink for weeks, but the last Yuuri heard, Corentin still does. Victor groaned. “Sorry, but…no, Yuuri.” He tried not to seem too disappointed in front of Boss. “That’s ok,” he said. “We can do that later when you have more strength to power up. For now, can you tell me what color the hand towel on your face is?” “’s white,” he mumbled. Relieved, Yuuri smiled and rubbed his hand. “Good. I’ll run all my tests later, but for now, try to get some rest, ok? You can push the call button if you need me.” He tried to walk away but Victor was still holding his hand. He looked at their clasped hands and then to Victor’s face under the hand towel. “Yuuri… am I ok?” His voice sounded small and Yuuri wished he could hold him. “Without a shadow of doubt,” he said firmly. “Wow…” he sighed and let Yuuri’s hand go. Yuuri was stuck gazing at Victor and wondering how he could make it all better in that one moment so that Victor didn’t have to worry, when Boss cleared his throat. He jumped and looked at him. “Will you give us a moment? Dr. Katsuki?” Yuuri blushed. “I’m not a doctor,” he mumbled and shuffled out of the room. * When Yuuri left, Boss gently removed the hand towel from Victor’s face. Victor thought he looked tired. “This is my fault,” he said in that gravelly voice. Victor would laugh if he had the strength to, but everything hurt. “I’m stretching you too thin.” “Who else is there,” Victor rasped. “’s my job, Yakov.” “We should have more heroes at the agency by now. But instead you’re doing all the heavy lifting. You could’ve been killed today.” “I’ll be alright,” Victor said. Even though Yakov was so imposing to others, Victor knew what kind of heart he had. He didn’t want Yakov to worry. “Who did this to you, Victor?” “Surprise, surprise,” he coughed, “Ginny Clay.” “No,” he said. “Who patched you up in that alley? Tell me.” Victor hesitated, thinking about the pain that paralyzed him and the forced calm that saved him. About a star on the head of a shadow. He thought about warm hands squeezing his and a soft touch on his forehead. A chilling whisper in his ear. Relax. “Red Specter,” he said. Yakov didn’t say anything but Victor could tell he was grinding his teeth. Yakov leaned back in his chair and stared at the TV for a while. Victor closed his eyes—whatever Yakov felt about that, he would know in due time. Maybe he, Victor, would be sure of how he felt by then too. He was definitely curious about Red’s power. Obviously, he had the ability to control people but, based on his past crimes, it didn’t seem like he used it much. It didn’t seem too far-fetched to say that he refrained from using it out of compassion. After all, he had just saved Victor’s life. He groaned at the thought and tried to clear his head. He could hear what Yakov was watching: a news story about a saltwater kelpie that seemed to be drowning. Yakov watched in silence before turning the TV off which made Victor open his eyes again. Yakov was leaning forward, hands folded in obvious thought. “How much do you know about Yuuri Katsuki?” “What?” “Your kind-hearted nurse, Yuuri Katsuki. What do you know?” Victor rolled his eyes. “Nothing,” he huffed, and even that made his side ache. “Why?” “I don’t like him.” “Why not?!” Victor felt indignant. “Something’s not right about him. I’ll be sure to ask Lilia to do a full investigation into him later. I want to know what he’s hiding.” “You’re paranoid.” Yakov shook his head and stared at the door behind him as if Yuuri were listening on the other side. He huffed and turned to lean closer to Victor. “Normal people aren’t as aggressive as he is, Victor. With a power like mine, people naturally shrink away from me. It’s a primal fear. They can subconsciously sense that I can take their power away from them so they avoid me. But he wanted to let me know he wasn’t afraid of me. He made a point of challenging me. For what?” “Tsk. You just don’t like being beat.” “Did he tell you he used to work for the yakuza?” Victor froze. “What?” “Mmhm. Straight from the horse’s mouth. Like I said. Something’s not right, and I’m going to follow my gut on this one. I don’t want just anyone treating you.” “Yakov, you softie. I’m sure there’s—” “In the mean-time,” he interrupted Victor and sat back in his chair, “hit the call button so Hitman Katsuki can refresh your pain meds. Your hurt face is pitiful.” * Victor felt stronger the next day. It seemed that he was healing quickly because of his powers so, after running some tests, Yuuri assured him that he would make a full recovery in just a few days. He was being discharged that night though, because Victor insisted on it, despite Yuuri’s vehement protests. The city needed him, after all. For some reason— he knew why —he felt embarrassed talking to Yuuri and ended up rambling. He asked about the rose he gave to a nurse for Yuuri and Yuuri assured him that he received it and thanked him for it which made Victor feel even more embarrassed. It didn’t help that several other nurses were crowded around Yuuri to see Victor off. He wanted to talk to Yuuri, alone , maybe even ask about the yakuza, but he could feel Yakov’s eyes boring into the back of his head. It was time to go. As Yuuri waved at him from the reception desk, Victor hesitated. “Yuuri… your friend made an Instagram for you, right?” “I—uh—yes,” he stammered, an adorable blush coloring his cheeks. A nurse, Noor if Victor remembered correctly, folded his arms and gave Yuuri a look as he bit his lip. “I don’t use it though…” “Why not?” “It’s… it’s embarrassing.” “I don’t think so! I think it’s charming. You’re very photogenic.” “You hear that, Yuuri?” Another nurse piped up and nudged Yuuri’s side. “Photogenic, he said.” Yakov grunted and straightened his tie. “Let’s go, Winter Torch.” “Just a second,” Victor said, waving a hand at him as he turned back to Yuuri. “I’d really like to talk to you more so… maybe you could give it a try?” “You want to—I mean—to me?” Noor not so subtly elbowed Yuuri in the ribs as two other nurses tried to hide their giggling. “I… ok.” Victor grinned and gave Yuuri’s hands a quick squeeze. Then, before he could convince himself not to, he kissed Yuuri’s left hand. “Thanks, doc.” Yuuri’s mouth opened a little in surprise, his beautiful brown eyes going wide for just a second. Yes! He winked at Yuuri, too happy to care about the other nurses’ excited jeering and whistles, before jogging to catch up with Yakov. “I’m not a doctor! And no running while you’re recovering!” Yuuri reprimanded and Victor chuckled. Yuuri bounced back quicker than Victor thought he would. * When Victor put the key in his apartment door, he heard Makkachin bark and run for the door. He smiled at the sweet sound and waited. “It’s safe, I’ve got her!” Axle called from inside. He was pup-sitting for Victor since he had been so preoccupied with the city. Axle was rarely busy as he was only a three star hero and had no interest in climbing the ladder like Spotlight or 88. At least he didn’t have to worry about getting shot. Victor opened the door and cooed at his sweet pup who wiggled and barked in Axle’s muscled arms. He didn’t want Makkachin to accidentally rip his stitches, but he really wanted to play with her. It seemed like forever since he last saw her. He put his keys up and scratched her ears. “You’re such a good baby!” He praised her and she barked. “Thank you so much for taking care of her while I was out, Axle.” Axle grinned, and even though his face was heavily scarred—a gem dragon fight gone sour—he was like literal sunshine. “It was no problem at all! She’s the best!” “Yes she is!” Victor nuzzled his nose into her head and she licked his chin. “She’s been fed and walked, and I went ahead and gave her a bath because she found a really nice, icy mud puddle this morning. I also watered your plants and started a pot of soup for you.” “Ah, Axle, why are you so amazing?” “It’s nothing!” He let Makkachin go and she sat down on Victor’s feet to rest her curly head on his stomach. “Oh yeah! Yuri came by to check on you.” Victor gasped and stopped ruffling Makkachin’s ears. “What?! When?!” “This afternoon!” He beamed, “As an honorary member of your family, I decided to let him in, but as a hero, I handcuffed him to your bathroom sink. He’s asleep now.” “W—what?” “Here’s the key,” he said and handed it to Victor. “Let me know if you want to arrange a police transport for him. See you later, Victor! Get well soon!” Victor gawked at the key and back at Axle who was bundling up and out the door before Victor could gather his thoughts. “Yuri!” he called and Makkachin barked, scampering off for the bathroom. Victor followed and found Yuri curled up on the bathroom floor with his wrist cuffed to a pipe. “Gav-no!” he breathed. “Yuri! Wake up!” The teen stirred and Makkachin licked his cheek. His green eyes flew open. “Where is that gear-headed shit for brains freak? I’ll kill him,” he snarled. “Any other hero would’ve immediately called the cops on you, so you should thank him,” Victor said and dropped the key next to Yuri who snatched it up. “You’re lucky History Maker is the kind of organization it is.” “Victor,” Yuri said as he freed himself and sat up. “You’re clearly alive, so let’s not waste time talking about your condition.” “How thoughtful,” Victor rolled his eyes and eased himself down to sit on the edge of the tub. “I’m serious, Victor. I just heard something pretty bad. The guys I worked for are spread out all over town, which is why it’s taken this long to get back to you. You told me to sever ties with them, but it’s not that simple. There’s a hierarchy system. Each boss is in a different place and I have to go to each one in person to tell them I want out or else it won’t do me any good. And of course, there are the fights…” “Fights? You’ve been fighting with these guys?” “What do you think?! You can’t just quit a gang like this. It’s not some after school program! But that’s why it’s been taking so long. Anyways, the latest boss, was a bitch in Detroit, that giant, Olivia.” “Olivia?” Victor got chills as he remembered the note Red Specter left him: Walters, Graham, and Olivia wanted you to have this. Not really but… “Are you sure that was her name?” “I know who I worked for, Victor, just listen! She didn’t really care about me leaving, which was fine, so I stuck around because I was tired after going all the way to Detroit. But while I was there, I heard a really familiar name come up. Kazuya.” Victor closed his eyes and shook his head, warding off nightmares. “Jesus, no…” “I don’t know a lot of concrete details, but I’m guessing that this gang doesn’t just steal luxury cars. They provide transportation for trafficking too. From what I could gather, there’s going to be a big transport on Monday night.” “Monday? That’s in two days!” “You have the home court advantage though. They’re taking people out of Spring Gate so maybe someone can set a trap for when they come.” “Someone?” Victor stood up and Makkachin snuffed in surprise. “By someone, you mean me, right?” “No, old man, I don’t. With what little information I could get, I’m pretty sure this job falls somewhere between three and four stars. I don’t even know what they’re packing so it could easily turn into a five.” “Yura, please , have you met me?” Victor marched out of the bathroom for his phone. He needed to start a plan with Yakov. “I’m the five star hero. These guys are nothing.” “You’re the wounded five star hero with a bullet hole in his stomach!” Yuri had rushed out of the bathroom after him to stand in front of him. “Look, the only reason why I told you and not anyone else is because you’re the only person I could go to. You saw what happens when other heroes see me,” he said holding up the handcuff key. “You need to tell someone about this. You can’t do this alone.” “I’ve been doing this alone since I was twenty-one,” Victor said as he pulled up routes from Detroit to Spring Gate. “Olivia’s got nothing.” “Are you kidding me?! Were you even listening?” “Of course. You mentioned Olivia and the possibility of more weapons, etcetera…” “And what I said about Olivia?” “Yes, Yuri, I heard. Even though she’s clearly evil, mentioning her weight was highly unnecessary.” “Her weight?! No, Victor, not a giant woman, a woman giant! Olivia is a giantess! She’s more than twenty fucking feet tall!” “For the love of— aargh!” Victor threw his phone onto the couch in frustration. His job was never easy. “Do you get it now?! I’m sure you could handle this on your own, normally, but this isn’t a job for a wounded hero to take solo. You need someone with four star skills to take the lead on this one.” “You’re not talking about yourself, are you,” Victor looked at him cautiously. Yuri’s power, sonic boom, was a wild cannon—he didn’t have the type of control over it that this job, or any job, required. Yuri narrowed his eyes and looked as if he were swallowing something bitter. “No,” he spat. “Then who?!” “I don’t know, Victor! Figure it out! You’re the hero aren’t you?! Stop asking me for answers!” “Watch Makka for me,” he said grabbing his phone and heading for the door. “I’m going to talk to Yakov.” “I’ll drive.” “Makka—” “She can come too! Jesus! You’re not driving when you’re practically dying. You’re like a walking doughnut hole!” Yuri growled and gathered up Makkachin’s leash. They got in Victor’s car and Yuri sped to History Maker, making the trip in five minutes when it usually took Victor fifteen. He parked and let Victor out. Victor wanted to run, but he could hear Yuuri’s reprimanding voice in his head. He allowed himself to walk briskly to the elevator which seemed to take a lifetime to arrive. When he was finally on the right floor, he wasn’t surprised to find Yakov working late in his office. He looked up at Victor in shock, his reading glasses sliding down his nose. “Vitya! What’s wrong?” “Yakov, we need to talk.” And he told Yakov everything. About Yuri, Olivia, and Kazuya, and even the note Red Specter had left in the truck before. Yakov frowned at that bit of information and looked ready to scold Victor but he pressed on, telling Yakov that they needed a capable team of heroes for this fight. Yakov steepled his fingers on his desk and was silent. “Well?” Victor asked. “What’s the plan? I was thinking that if we tell Spotlight and 88 about this, they would be able to convince Axle and Felix to come. I can supervise and provide backup, so that covers our plan of attack. Yuri thinks they’re making a pickup but it’s very possible that they’ll still have some victims in tow. We need to figure out safety measures for them during the confrontation.” “Victor,” Yakov said.” “What?” “What route are they taking to Spring Gate?” “I don’t know yet but—” “What are the license plate numbers and details on the vehicles they’re using?” “I don’t know, Yakov but—” “What does Olivia look like?” “Over twenty feet tall.” “And? What else? There are plenty of giants in Michigan. Do you have any other intel?” “Yuri can fill me in on that.” “What about her drivers? Do you know how many there are, what they look like, or what their abilities are? Do you know what time on Monday night they’re leaving?” “I told you there isn’t much to go on,” Victor snapped, getting impatient. “But this is still doable. We have to do this.” “No, Victor, it would’ve been doable if you weren’t injured. You, a five star hero, are perfectly capable of working on little to no intel. But the others are not. If we did this, we would be asking Spotlight and 88—because let’s face it, Axle and Felix won’t agree to it because it’s too dangerous for them—to take point on a potentially five star operation. They could get seriously injured or worse. You won’t be able to stop that as you’ve just escaped death yourself.” “So we sit and do nothing?!” “Don’t act like that, I get enough of it from Yuri. We can act once we have more information on this, but it likely won’t be on Monday. We just don’t have the resources, especially since there’ve been so many villains running around. Setting things on fire, blowing things up, shooting at cops, stitching up unconscious heroes,” he snarled as he rose from his chair to round his desk. He stood in front of Victor and crossed his arms on his chest. “Not to mention hell’s creatures wreaking havoc at every opportunity. Yetis, mutant tigers, and giant spiders...We’ve got our hands full with several immediate dangers and the only thing we can do is take this one step at a time.” “Yakov,” Victor said, feeling sick, “we just can’t do that. Kazuya…” “I won’t tell you that we can’t save everyone, Victor, because if anyone can, it’s you. It’s just not the right time. Rest up. Recover. And don’t do anything reckless.” “Yakov…” Victor’s chest felt empty. “I’m sorry, Vitya. I really am.” * Victor’s head spun as the elevator descended to the first floor. Yuri was waiting for him out front but he couldn’t find the strength to go back to the car. These days, horrible, fragmented memories of Kazuya kept creeping back to him. It used to just be the nightmares. But now, it seemed Kazuya was still alive. Still experimenting on people. Now that Victor had the power to get revenge and stop Kazuya himself, to make sure he never hurt anyone again, he couldn’t. There was no one at History Maker who could help him. He took out his phone and dialed Chris who picked up on the first ring. “Is this a booty call?” “No, but it’s an emergency. Where are you right now?” “A holding cell in a German airport. Why?” “Chris! What?! What happened?” “I flew out after a job and I guess they thought my passport wasn’t all that convincing. I can’t be certain but I’m sure it’s some similar bureaucratic nonsense. I’ll be out soon though. I don’t think they know I’m ferrokinetic, otherwise they wouldn’t have put me in a normal prison. I was actually able to snag my phone because of that little oversight. Anyway, what’s the emergency, love?” “I… nothing. I’ll figure it out.” “Are you sure? I was planning on playing nice for a while but I don’t mind breaking out.” “No, don’t do that,” Victor said firmly. He didn’t want Chris to add airport jailbreak to his long list of crimes. “I've got this.” “If it’s professional help you’re looking for,” Chris purred, and Victor slumped over to the reception desk to cradle his head in his hand. The neat haired receptionist gave him a sympathetic look. “You should talk to an information broker. They can connect you to someone. Like maybe a vigilante. For the right price of course.” “Oh my god, that’s it. Thank you, Chris!” “Love you,” Chris blew a kiss into the phone and hung up. Victor got back on the elevator for the basement level, some vestiges of hope stirring inside of him. It should’ve been obvious. His two main problems were lack of manpower and lack of information. He could get both from an info broker. This was the first time that he actually felt lucky enough to be in contact with one. He got out, and paced in the empty parking lot as he dialed Agni’s number. They had not spoken in ages. The line died three times. Come on, pick up, pick up! Finally, it connected. “The injured should rest, Winter Torch. Don’t you think?” Agni’s snarky voice sounded through the phone. “Listen, Agni, this is an emergency. I need your help with something.” A strong wind nearly knocked Victor over and when he looked up, a man in a red suit was standing before him. He was wearing a carnival mask with a bright red and gold bird of paradise painted on its black surface. He tucked a cell phone into his pants pocket. Victor noticed that the line on his own phone died. “What's the emergency, Victor?”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“W-what?!” Victor felt as if he had missed a step going down the stairs. “Who — how do you know my name?!” The man scoffed and adjusted his cuff link. “Please. Victor, you said there was an emergency, right? Let’s not waste time.” “You’re Agni…” Victor looked him up and down, taking in the suit, the mask, the calm composure. Agni was a speedster too, and for some reason, this troubled him—a bizarre chill prickled the back of his neck. “How long have you known who I am? And why is my identity important to you?” “Long enough,” Agni said, “I’m trusting you with something incredibly important, and I tend to want to get to know the people I put my faith in. But believe me, I don’t take your identity lightly” The icy air rolling off Victor crackled — by instinct, he powered up just as Agni rushed in. “After all this time, you still haven’t given me good reason to trust you. What is Red Specter to you?” “That’s not why you called me, Victor. If you want to know you can trust me, give me that chance. Tell me what’s wrong.” When Victor didn’t answer, he continued. “Let me try to help.” It was too much at once and, again, Victor had to make a choice. Red Specter spiked his curiosity by stealing millions of dollars’ worth of rubies, all undetected. He held Victor’s attention by showing a kind of compassion and self-sacrifice that he, Victor, didn’t even find in some heroes. Red saved three people from a gem-dragon, over a dozen from traffickers, and then Victor himself. However he felt about Red, whatever competitiveness and frustration Red awoke in Victor, Victor couldn’t deny that Red was special. He didn’t just want to catch Red, he needed to talk to him. He needed to understand him. But this wasn’t the time for that. People were in danger of suffering the same fate Victor did when he was a child. Abducted and cruelly experimented on, far away from home and with little hope. Now, he had the chance to stop that. He had to take it. He sighed and shook his head in defeat. “I need information,” he admitted. “You came to the right person then. What do you need to know?” “There’s a giantess named Olivia who works out of Detroit. I have reason to believe she works in human trafficking and she’s making a move in Spring Gate. I need more intel, but I have nothing to work on.” He explained how History Maker was stretched thin, and how he was the only hero qualified for the job. Agni nodded as he talked and took out his phone halfway through. Victor eyed him, irritated that Agni was dividing his attention. “Keep going,” Agni said, glancing up when Victor stopped. “I’m listening but I’m taking notes.” “I need to know their plans so I can stop them. I can usually work without a lot of details but…” “You’re recovering,” Agni finished for him. “Yeah.” “Getting details should be easy enough.” Victor’s heart leapt at that piece of good news. “It sounds like you need someone to go into the field with you too. Are you thinking vigilante or mercenary?” “Uuh— vigilante.” Victor tried to sound more confident than he actually felt, but he didn’t expect Agni to be so direct about it. It sounded wrong being discussed out loud. “What’s your price range?” “My price range? Vigilantes need payment too?” “Of course. Unfortunately, none of this is free, Victor. Some vigilantes demand money. They need to make a living somehow. But others might want… something else.” “Like what?” “Something that you as a five star hero probably can’t afford to do,” he sighed, tucking his phone in his jacket pocket. “Some kind of favor. They’ll want to name it at any time, and that time might be inconvenient for you.” “Well, I can’t do that!” Victor threw up his hands in exasperation and started pacing. “Then, I think you need to do what Yakov said and sit this one out until you’ve recovered.” Victor froze and glared at Agni in shock. “Sorry,” he said. “Habit.” “How much do you know?!” Victor demanded. It was unthinkable. Unacceptable, even. He knew what an info broker was, but for some reason, the cavalier knowledge of Yakov’s identity was crossing a line. “A lot,” Agni said and Victor’s mouth twitched in anger. It definitely wasn’t a good enough answer. “It’s my job to know, but like I said, I don’t take your identity lightly. So, let’s just focus on the task at hand.” “If you lay a fingernail—” “Let’s focus, Victor—” “You shouldn’t underestimate me just because I came to you for help,” he snapped. “You say you don’t take our identities lightly, but somehow I’m finding that hard to believe!” “What would you have me do then?” Agni held his arms out as if welcoming anything that might come from Victor. “The damage is done. And there’s still no acceptable reason for you to know who Boss really is!” Victor fought valiantly against the urge to freeze Agni’s hands off. Victor was starting to regret calling him. Agni shrugged. “There isn’t, is there? My apologies,” he said calmly as the ground beneath them became glossed over with ice. Agni did not seem daunted. “Again, I urge you to focus. That is if you still want my help.” “What else is there?! If I’m not mistaken, you just insisted that I stand back and let this happen.” Victor countered, “by the time I recover, people could get hurt or worse! That’s not an option. And now you’re standing in front of me, ever so casually flaunting an inexplicable knowledge of some of the most invulnerable identities, knowledge that can bring real harm to—” “Winter Torch,” Agni interrupted in a soft voice. “You have my word that neither your identity nor Boss’ identity will fall into the wrong hands. I’m not using this knowledge as leverage. I would never do that.” Victor rolled his eyes and bit his cheek. “Is there any reason why I should still be here then? Even after you’ve told me that I can’t expect help from anybody?” “I’m saying you can’t expect free help, Winter. I can’t ask anyone from the underworld to do a job without proper payment. It just doesn’t work that way.” “What about you?” He turned on Agni who seemed shocked, even from under the mask. “What do you mean me?” “You can help,” he asserted, desperate to get the ball rolling, despite his misgivings about Agni. He couldn’t help but think of Agni as a snake, but at least it seemed this snake wasn’t biting the people Victor cared about. At least not yet. And if he did, he would handle this singing bird when he made a full recovery, simple as that. Victor was grasping at straws, but it couldn’t be too much of a stretch if he thought about it. Agni worked closely with plenty of people in the underworld. He was clever, sly, and resourceful. He had a heart… a shaded one, but a heart nonetheless. His care for Red was proof of that. He also had a very useful ability. He would just keep an eye on Agni the whole time. It could work. It had to work. “Winter…” Agni bounced nervously on his heel. “I’m sorry, but I don’t feel comfortable doing that. It’s not about the money either. I just… I’m not a hero.” “What do you think being a hero is, Agni? You just have to be willing to put others before yourself. You can do that.” Agni shook his head. “I’m not trained to do what you need me to do. I do think that there’s a possibility that these guys will have some victims in tow, and if that’s the case, they’ll be out of luck. Between your injuries, my inexperience, and the bad guys, they’ll be trapped in the crossfire.” “But you’re a speedster!” Victor pointed at him in accusation. “Yeah, I’m fast, but that’s it! The Flash makes you think that carrying someone out of a burning building at top speed is easy, but that takes strength that I’ve never had. Dude’s jacked. He’s lumberk-jack strong and DC never talks about it. If I run at top speed with a normal sized human who doesn’t have super strength, they might get spinal injuries… or I might drop them...I’ve tried it before out of absolute necessity and it was a close call I don’t care to repeat.” Victor winced at the thought of someone falling on concrete at the speed of light. “Fine.” He was beginning to feel lost. For years, he believed he was the only one Kazuya experimented on. He couldn’t imagine anyone else having the same nightmare of being thrown into a cryogenic prison— a small dark cube— and then being left for days until Kazuya decided to test him. And then reliving that cycle again, and again, and again. But it was possible that there were others. He had to stop it, but everyone, Yuri, Yakov, and now Agni, was telling him to just wait. To wait until the time was right to save Kazuya’s victims. To let them suffer. He thought about the last time he felt cold, with the darkness closing in on him. And then the image of a star on the head of a shadow gave him an idea. “Red Specter.” “This again…” Agni put weary hands on his hips and Victor frantically shook his head. “No, I mean, is Red Specter trained for something like this?” Agni was silent for the first time since he had arrived. Victor could hear tires roving over ice on the street above them. “Agni, he could do this, couldn’t he?” “I don’t… I don’t think he should get involved.” “What do you mean?! This is serious and if he’s the only option—” “Winter, I told you already! No one in the underworld is going to do a job for free. That includes Red Specter.” “So when should I expect the invoice for these stitches?” He lifted his sweater to flash the scar at Agni who looked away. “That’s different…” “Or the delivery for Olivia that he intercepted over a month ago! Who did he do that for and how much did he get paid? Maybe I can match the price.” “Victor, it’s not that simple!” Agni ran his hand down his face, seemingly forgetting about the mask covering it. “The Red Specter I know… the man that… if everything works out, you will soon meet, would gladly do this for you.” “So what’s the problem?” Victor asked, frustrated that Agni was trying to keep his last chance from him. “The problem…” he seemed to struggle with his words, a strange thing, considering how colorful and confident he usually was, “is that he doesn’t have the luxury of being that person right now. He can’t be the hero you want him to be. If he takes this job, and you don’t give him anything in return, it will cause a lot of trouble for him.” “What do you mean?” “If word gets out in the underworld that he did a high stakes four star job for free, potential buyers won’t want to pay him as much anymore. They’ll want discounts or they’ll demand free services. They’ll corner him and he’ll be out of work faster than you can blink.” “So this is about money…” Victor sucked his teeth and turned on his heel, lost in thought. It was getting harder and harder to maintain his faith in everyone around him. “It’s about safety too. There are people far more violent than he is who would take advantage of him if they thought he was doing dangerous jobs for free. They would think he’s weak, as if he got bullied into doing it, and try to attack him while he’s working.” He seemed to consider something, hands on hips as he eyed a spot on the ground before he continued. “And... it’s not necessarily Red Specter who needs the money, Victor. Thinking about the patterns you’ve observed in his behavior, I’m pretty sure you’ll come to a pretty accurate conclusion about his current situation… I just can’t be the one to tell you out right.” “Ok, just…” Victor was getting anxious with the lack of action. The only important thing was stopping Olivia. Everything else was second. “Just tell him I can pay. I mean I don’t have money, but if it’s a favor he wants, I’ll give it to him. If he can do this job, I don’t care about anything else. I want him.” “Winter…” “What else is there?” “What about your reputation?” “I’d rather owe Red a favor than someone else.” “You don’t even know what the favor is yet,” Agni crossed his arms and his eyes looked amused behind the mask. “I’ll do it,” he said firmly. For a moment, Victor thought Agni would refuse him. He thought he would zip away in a red blur leaving him alone without an answer. But then he spoke. “Get some rest,” he said. “I’ll be in contact.” And then came the red blur. * Understandably, Yuuri slept until noon. It had been a long couple of days for him. He shuffled into the kitchen for breakfast, bleary eyed and shivering against the morning chill, at the same time Phichit returned for lunch. Yuuri wasn’t a morning person, which gave Phichit more time to process his meeting with Victor from the night before. He sat at the kitchen table with his sub sandwich and thought about what Victor was suggesting. It was obviously dangerous and risky, something that Yuuri wasn’t in the mood for these days. What made it worse was that he would have to work directly with Victor, the hero he was trying so desperately to avoid… and, in Phichit’s opinion, to be like. But he would never tell Yuuri that to his face. He didn’t know if he should tell Yuuri about what happened. Yuuri plopped down in the chair across from him and sipped his coffee in silence. Phichit frowned. Usually, Yuuri at least gave him a bland smile in the mornings, but Yuuri simply stared into his mug, steam fogging his blue glasses. Phichit took a despondent bite of his shrimp sub as he realized that trying to think for Yuuri was what got him into this situation in the first place. To an extent, it couldn’t be helped. There were some secrets he had to keep, even from his best friend. But this wasn’t one of them. “I think you’ll be happy to know that Victor is thoroughly stressed out right now.” “What?” Yuuri croaked. “Why would that make me happy?” “You were worried about your power still affecting him, but obviously it’s not if he’s not relaxed anymore.” “Ok...,” Yuuri seemed confused as he sipped more coffee. “How do you know that?” Phichit put his sub down, telling himself there was no good or artful way to say this. “He contacted me last night.” “What…” he put his mug down and stared incredulously at Phichit. “How on earth does he know who you are? Or even how to contact you?” “I… I actually contacted him first. A while ago,” he said carefully and watched Yuuri’s eyes widen. “About what,” he whispered. “I was fishing for information about Lam,” he said, and it wasn’t entirely a lie, but it definitely wasn’t the truth. It would have to do though. “He was difficult to come by and I was looking for someone to drop hints, even if by accident. People in the underworld are more tight-lipped because they expect the worst so I had to branch out.” He wasn’t sure if Yuuri believed him or not, but he wasn’t storming out, so it was something. “What did he want?” he asked. “He needs help with a pretty big job.” “He can’t do anything above a two star, I told him that,” he sucked his teeth and sipped his coffee. “He’s desperate. I don’t know what his connection is to this case, but there’s this woman named Olivia—” “She worked with Walters and Graham.” “Yeah, and she’s planning on taking people out of Spring Gate. She’s selling them to this evil doctor named Kazuya.” A look of pained shock, replaced the drowsy suspicion on Yuuri’s face. “Do you know this doctor?” “No. He’s dead.” “What do you mean?” Phichit felt cold. “He’s dead. Fujiwara shot him in my kitchen when I was twelve.” “Ok… well,” Phichit’s heart jerked at the thought. Was Yuuri home when it happened? Did he see the doctor’s body? He wondered if, even now, Yuuri could hear the gun fire in his head… Phichit knew that he would if it were him. “I don’t know if there’s another Dr. Kazuya or if… your Dr. Kazuya somehow came back to life, but someone is asking for these bodies and Olivia is planning on delivering them. Victor seems really passionate about this. He would take care of it on his own, but he needs someone to do the heavy lifting for this mission.” “Who did you recommend?” Yuuri got up to get his toast and he munched on it standing up. “Nobody, actually… he can’t afford mercenary or vigilante help.” “Why’d he come to you then?” He asked with something like a smile. “I honestly don’t think he knows what he’s getting himself into. He just wants to help these people. Boss turned him down, which makes sense, but he can’t let this one go.” “He’s going to rush into it himself,” Yuuri groaned. “He’s gonna end up getting killed. “Yuuri… he actually asked for you specifically.” Phichit studied Yuuri’s reaction, but surprisingly, there was almost no change in his face. He seemed calm, washing down a bite of toast with coffee. “Why?” “Well… I told him that he can’t get free help from the underworld so then he asked me.” Yuuri raised his eyebrows but didn’t say anything. “I had to turn him down because if I messed up and hurt someone, I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself. And then, he asked about you.” Yuuri seemed to be thinking as he put more bread in the toaster. “What did you say?” “I told him you can’t work for free either,” Phichit immediately assured him. “I didn’t answer for you, but I told him that everything comes with a price. He said he’ll owe you a favor. He doesn’t care what it is. He said he wants you.” “Ok.” “I know you have to think about it. The job is Monday, so you have a little time to decide.” “I’ll do it.” “What?” “Tell him I’ll help. What else does he need?” “Er…” the speed of Yuuri’s answer gave him mental whiplash. He looked at Yuuri who still seemed perfectly calm, but Phichit knew him well enough to finally recognize the fire burning just beneath the surface. Phichit wondered if it was Kazuya’s rebirth or Victor’s pleas that ignited the flame. Either way, he knew it wouldn’t be easily extinguished. “He needs information. Times, places, license plates…” “And you can get that, right?” “Y-yeah.” “Good. You should probably give him my answer otherwise he’ll worry.” “Yeah, you’re probably right.” Yuuri finished his breakfast and washed his dishes. On his way out of the kitchen, he hesitated, then turned around, adjusting his glasses nervously. “Phichit…” Feeling, weirdly put on the spot, Phichit tried his best to not give into his discomfort by staring down at his shrimp sub. “Yes?” “Thank you for telling me.” “I… of course.” * Victor was trying really hard to rest. He was stretched out on his couch under a blanket with Makkachin sitting on the floor near his head. The TV was turned on to some old, Russian drama that he wasn’t really paying attention to. He was scrolling through Instagram, but he wasn’t paying attention to that either. He couldn’t sit still for long without thinking about Kazuya or Red Specter. Makkachin was usually an effective distraction, but he wasn’t allowed to play with her or cuddle her until his stitches healed properly. Even though it hadn’t even been twenty-four hours, he felt anxious waiting for Agni’s call. What would he do if Agni told him that Red Specter was out? He didn’t have many options left. He might be able to call that Canadian hero, but Victor didn’t have his info...he barely remembered the guy’s name. Asking Yakov for it would be an obvious giveaway. Hell, the guy’s mere presence in Spring Gate would set off too many red flags. If he wanted to, he could take this job on his own. He could be careful...He would only get injured if he didn’t use his head, but if he really listened to his body and paid attention to his surroundings, he could pull it off. He had to. If Red refused to help, there was no other way. He sat up straight and winced at the stabbing pain in his side. He stood and gingerly lifted his arm above his head to stretch, gauging his mobility. The pain was searing so he stopped and took a deep breath. “Ok, so no lifting. I can work with that.” He opened his palm and conjured a bright purple flame. He flicked his hand, sending it dancing around the room, to Makkachin’s delight. He closed his fist and the flame vanished. He felt fine, which was a good sign. “I could do even more at night…” Makkachin gave him a wounded look as if lamenting the absence of the fire. Victor smiled at her and bent to scratch her fluffy ears which he immediately regretted. He clutched his side and sank to the couch, trying to hold in the pained groan. “Are you trying to kill yourself, old man? Sit your wrinkly ass down!” Yuri appeared carrying a tray with two bowls of Axle’s pumpkin bisque. He set it on the coffee table and shooed Makkachin away. “You can’t help anyone if you have the anatomy of a slice of swiss cheese.” “Your love language is so difficult to understand, Yura,” Victor teased but still settled into the couch. His phone pinged and he snatched it up, his heart pounding. It was just Instagram. He screwed his eyes shut and groaned in frustration. Waiting was worse agony than a bullet wound. He opened up the app and saw that, as usual, his most recent post was exploding. After the Aragog fight, he took a selfie with the helicopter pilot and posted it with the caption “No rest for the wicked.” He scrolled through thousands of hearts and screams, knowing he should feel grateful for the appreciation, but still too anxious at the moment to feel anything besides dreadful anticipation. He scrolled and scrolled and, somehow, one comment stood out to him among all the emojis and excitement. y-katsuki: Ok, but you’d better be resting.
Victor’s heart skipped into his throat and his cheeks burned. He eyed the handle to be absolutely sure but there was no mistaking it: y-katsuki. It was Yuuri! “Ew,” Yuri said. “Why do you look like that?” “Like what?” Victor muttered and began typing back. winter-torch-official: I’m trying, but it’s hard! :(
Before he even had the time to feel nervous or giddy, his phone pinged again and he yelped. “You look gross,” Yuri said in disgust through a mouthful of soup. Victor ignored him and read Yuuri’s new comment.
y-katsuki:
I know you’re lying.
Victor bit his lip to spare Yuri the excited scream that wanted to burst out of him.
winter-torch-official:
Yuuri, you wound me! The city never sleeps, so neither do I! ;)
y-katsuki:
City, please do me a solid and let my patient sleep.
Victor closed his eyes and rested the phone over his heart. He needed a minute. He couldn’t die just yet. He had to respond. winter-torch-official: No crime for a month, doctor’s orders! (ﾉ´∀｀*)ﾉ
y-katsuki:
not a doctor
winter-torch-official:
you’re my hero though <3
y-katsuki: and you’re everyone else’s. you deserve a good night’s rest more than anyone.
Everyone had been telling Victor the same thing. That he was a great hero. That he deserved a break. But still, for some reason, reading it from Yuuri made him emotional and tears began to sting his eyes. He didn’t even know how to reply to that. He put his phone down and reached for the soup Yuri heated for him. He didn’t want to think about why that simple comment was so overwhelming. He’d heard it before, so his reaction made no sense to him. Yuri gave him a suspicious look but seemed to decide against talking. Halfway through their late lunch, Victor’s phone rang. He snatched it up again. It was a blocked number. Yuri nodded at Victor’s phone. “Is that what you’ve been waiting for?” Victor pursed his lips. “Maybe… maybe not.” He answered and braced himself before speaking. “Hello?” “He’s in.” Something fluttered in Victor’s stomach and he had to catch his breath. “Yeah?” “We’ll come up with a plan and contact you with the details tomorrow afternoon. He does have some conditions, but I’m sure at this point, that won’t change your mind.” “Uh, what are the conditions?” Victor was feeling nervous again. What would Red demand? Help with a heist? Access to the ruby he let slip on their first encounter? Wouldn’t that be considered payment and not a condition? “The conditions actually benefit you. You see, since you’re recovering, the plan we’re coming up with will minimize the amount of physical involvement on your part. One of his conditions is that you stick to this plan. He’s not willing to compromise on that.” “O-ok…” Victor said, thinking it was odd coming from a thief. But then again, Red was the one who saved his life, stitched Victor up when he was hanging on by a thread. The more human Red became in Victor’s mind, the more ill-footed he felt when he thought about the thief. “His second condition is that you don’t interfere.” “Meaning?” “Meaning, if he’s fighting someone, don’t try to tag in. You might get hurt.” “I’m not so delicate that—” “Unfortunately, these conditions are non-negotiable,” Agni cut him off leaving Victor’s pride wounded. “You’ll fulfill a minor support role, and nothing more. The next condition is that you don’t wear your hero suit.” “What?! How am I supposed to protect my identity?” “Wear a mask. But don’t power up. You’ll give yourself away.” “And why’s that a bad thing?” “Rebelling against organization protocol. Winter Torch and Red Specter team up to take down human traffickers. How’s that headline?” Victor thought ruefully about Yakov’s reaction once he, Victor, inevitably had to confess to this little rendezvous. He couldn’t imagine the shade of purple Yakov would turn if he had to read about Victor’s disobedience in the news. “Point taken.” “Final condition. Stick to ice. If you use water, snow, and ice in the same mission, it’ll be easy to identify you, even if you’re wearing a mask. But plenty of people have ice powers, so that’s a safer bet.” “Alright. Is that it?” “For now. Like I said, I’ll contact you. Rest up.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Victor’s phone rang again at 3:30am on Sunday. He jolted awake and snatched his phone from the dresser. “Hello?” His voice was gruff with sleep. It was dark and chilly in his room, even with the window closed and Makkachin sleeping next to him. “Good morning, Mr. Torch,” Agni said with the energy of someone calling at a much later hour. “I hope I’m not interrupting your sleep.” “What’s going on?” Victor wasn’t in the mood but he tried to be reasonably pleasant with Agni who was doing him a massive favor. “I’m just tying up some loose ends before tomorrow’s fun. I’d like to reach an official agreement on our payment arrangements… have you given it any thought since we first talked?” Victor sighed and sat up in bed to turn his reading lights on. “I thought we agreed that I’d… you know. Owe him a favor.” “Yes, we did say that, but I’m afraid these things are a bit more nuanced than writing a simple I.O.U. You need to tell me exactly what you’re offering and how you plan on fulfilling that promise.” “Of course,” Victor sighed again. He was uncomfortable with this whole situation but he couldn’t think of a suitable alternative. He wanted to figure out what kind of person Red was and this— recruiting Red as a vigilante to do Victor’s job— was a precarious method. It was not one he preferred and not even the intent of this mission, but at this, point it was unavoidable. He needed to stop those traffickers and Red was his last chance in doing so. He just hoped that he wouldn’t regret ignoring Yuri and Yakov by just doing this job himself. “What does he want?” “One thing in particular, but he’ll never ask for it,” Agni said almost absently. “You’ll have to offer him the next best thing.” “Which is?” “What do you think?” “Does he want that huge ruby?” “Most likely…” “You don’t know for sure? He’s not naming his price?” Victor asked incredulously. “He normally does, but you don’t have much room for owing underworld workers favors. You can’t pay him his normal price either, so he wants you to make him an offer. You’ll have to be creative and maybe a bit… bold when thinking of an offer. If he likes it, he’ll take it.” “And if he doesn’t?” Agni laughed softly, “I don’t think you need to worry about that, Winter Torch. He’s easy.” “Nothing about this is easy,” Victor groaned and smoothed Makkachin’s head when she stirred awake. “Alright, how about this? I think that ruby is a good offer. Anybody with eyes can see that he’s been collecting them, so I’m willing to bet he won’t turn that down.” “Ok…” Victor said, and even though he was expecting it, his heart sank at the prospect of taking that ruby out of the vault. Of stealing and keeping secrets from everyone at History Maker. He thought with a pang of guilt and shame about Spotlight and 88 who were fighting tooth and nail to become the kind of hero that they thought Victor was. Even Axle, Felix, and the other rookie heroes didn’t deserve the kind of example Victor was setting right now. He was letting everyone down… “You’ll need a backup offer too, just in case you can’t follow through on the ruby. It’s also possible that Red will refuse your first offer.” “I thought you said he was easy?” “He can also be… unpredictable at times,” he hesitated. “Better safe than sorry.” “Fine… if I can’t get him the ruby myself… I’ll tell him how to get in to the vault. He can get it.” “Interesting…” Agni seemed to be thinking as he hummed to himself. Victor leaned his head against the wall and covered his face with his hand, feeling defeated before morning even began. “Is there something wrong, Victor?” The question sent needles of anxiety through his heart. It didn’t help that he still didn’t feel comfortable with Agni knowing his real name. “Besides the prospect of several people losing their lives if I don’t compromise my morals?” “Yes. Besides that,” Agni said, direct as ever. “You sound like…” he paused with an agitated sigh as if Victor had somehow tested the last of his patience. “Look, I know what a person who fixes bullet wounds with band-aids sounds like. You need to ask for help with the real problem, or it’s just going to keep hurting you, Victor.” “I don’t know what you’re—” “Food for thought,” Agni cut him off and left Victor feeling personally attacked. Agni caught him off guard, and he wondered where this strangely earnest advice was coming from. Was it from his experience with Red, or some completely unrelated friend? Agni didn’t give Victor the chance to ponder this as he plowed on. “If that’s your final offer, I’ll let Red know, and I’ll get back to you. Talk to you soon.” When Agni hung up, Victor found that he couldn’t get back to sleep. He sat leaning against his backboard and thinking about what his “bullet wound” was… besides the actual bullet wound that landed him in the position of relying on vigilante help in the first place. But Red technically wasn’t a vigilante… at least not yet he wasn’t. In any case, he couldn’t see a problem worse than allowing those people to be taken by Olivia. It was a nightmare. A very preventable nightmare. He just needed a little help this time around. Truth be told, if Victor wasn’t a hero and much, much wealthier, he would’ve given Red anything he wanted for helping Victor with this problem. He would empty all his bank accounts into Red’s gloved hands. Under the anxiety Victor felt about going behind Yakov’s back and completely crapping on his own code of honor, he felt overwhelming gratitude towards Red. Yuri had shown a light on Victor’s powerlessness, Yakov had illuminated their lack of resources, and Agni told him he had nothing of value to offer any potential help. He felt useless and powerless. He was grabbing at straws when he asked about Red but he still pulled back a golden one. A golden, stealthy, butt-kicking straw who was apparently good with a needle. All Red Specter wanted was the ruby, which was to be expected. In exchange for God knows how many lives… that was nothing. At least Victor more or less knew what he was getting with Red. If he stopped over analyzing the thief and just looked at all the clues, he could see that, yes, Red Specter was easy. He was a good person who happened to steal rubies. It was starting to become clear that it wasn’t for personal gain. That part was a mystery, but that’s all Victor needed to know to trust Red with this. That’s all he needed to stop worrying about the choice he made, and start worrying about the ungodly level Yakov’s blood pressure will reach once he finds that the vault has been robbed. * Victor couldn’t decide if the weekend had been short or long. His pressing anxiety and anticipation made it feel as if it lasted a lifetime. Sitting in a two hour car ride to Detroit with Yuri made it feel more fleeting than a blink. In Victor’s mind, Agni was many things. Ostentatious, slippery, grating…definitely a bit untrustworthy. However, at the moment, he couldn’t help but admire Agni’s efficiency. To gather all the necessary information and devise a comprehensive strategy in such little time took resourcefulness, dedication and a shrewd sense of thinking. He wondered how Agni did it, but on the very top of his list of things to obsess over was Red Specter. He was meeting Red Specter in Detroit—all a part of the plan. He wondered how Red would get there, what Red was thinking right now, how Red would fight, what Red was feeling. Victor had never felt so distracted and nervous before a mission. Sure, he had decided to trust Red, but that didn’t stop a voracious curiosity from clawing at the lining of his stomach. He tried to distract himself and turned the music up.
Fear in the dark,
All these thoughts have never stopped,
Meet my friend the lonesome,
It’s killing time!
Of course Yuri’s playlist would be nothing but awful, teenage music about death. He sighed and Yuri seemed to take it as a sign of satisfaction rather than disappointment. “Since when do you like Des Rocs?” He asked, raising a blonde eyebrow. “Since now, apparently,” Victor smiled tightly. Makkachin yipped in the back seat and licked Victor’s neck. Again, he had to remind himself to feel grateful. After all, Yuri was the one who told Victor about all this. And now, he was nice enough to drive Victor to Detroit after just coming back. He gave his adopted brother a genuine smile this time. “Thank you, Yuri. For all of this.” “Uh-huh,” Yuri grunted as he blew a chewing gum bubble and merged into the right lane without looking. “If Yakov asks, you drove yourself to Detroit, ok? I’m trying to make him like me again so this won’t help.” Victor rolled his eyes. “Roger that.” Yuri started banging his head to the music, singing along: Oh, let me live, oh let me live, oh let me diiiie! Makkachin howled in the back which made Yuri burst out in laughter. “She’s the only acceptable dog,” he told Victor sternly. “Oh, I almost forgot,” and he ducked down under the steering wheel, nearly giving Victor a heart attack as the car swerved. He reemerged with a bright blue mask. It looked like some sort of East Asian carving of a demon’s face. Yuri handed it to Victor. “Got you a mask. It’s the Blue Spirit. I thought it was appropriate.” “The what?” “You’ve never seen Avatar?” Victor narrowed his eyes at Yuri. “Is this… is this from a cartoon?!” Yuri scoffed. “Does it matter?! You’re literally a Mattel action figure!” “I’m trying to save lives, Yuri, and you want me to do a cosplay?! What would Red Specter think if he saw this?!”
“Who gives a shit what Venom thinks?!” “He is nothing like Venom! Where is that even coming from? And I care what he thinks because I don’t want the one person who agreed to help me to think I’m an idiot!” “The one person?” Yuri looked disgusted. “Really?” “I already thanked you!” “And who the hell thinks you’re an idiot? You’re Winter Torch! You could dress up as the Queen of Hearts and play bagpipes in the streets and still, literally no one would think you’re an idiot.” Yuri blew a particularly spiteful bubble before speeding into an exit. “Instead of plot armor, you’ve got five star armor.” “Yolki-palki…delat' iz mukhi slona.” Victor shook his head.
“I am not exaggerating,” Yuri snapped. “Yuri, you think I’m an idiot. You call me an idiot at least once every time you see me.” “Of course I do. I’m your fucking brother, idiot.” “Glad to see you’ve fulfilled your quota.” “We’re almost there,” he said as he maneuvered through icy roads. “Are you going to use this mask or not?” “Well, seeing as how you’ve given me so many viable options, it’s hard to come to a decision, Yura,” he gave him a sour look. “You’re breaking up a trafficking ring, not winning a fucking popularity contest. We can agree on that much, right?” Yuri backed into an alley between two dilapidated buildings, a few blocks from the abandoned school he was meeting Red at. The place where Olivia was waiting for her delivery. Victor threw his head back on the seat rest and pinched his eyes shut. “I still don’t understand why this, mask…” “Because it’s fucking poetic! Now put it on!” Yuri snarled at him making Makkachin bark excitedly. Victor groaned and shoved the mask into his sweatshirt’s front pocket. He pulled up his hood. “I’ll do it when I get close. I’m not walking around looking like this,” Victor said. Yuri sucked his teeth and chewed his gum as if he was trying to liquefy it. “Thanks again for the ride,” he said as he opened his door. “If you die, I’m keeping Makka,” Yuri said. “Of course. Make sure Potya doesn’t bully her. Are you sure you’ll make it back safely?” “What do I fucking look like to you?” “Like an annoying but adorable little likho.” Victor smiled.
“You—”
He shut the car door and started walking, satisfied he got the last word in. It was midnight cold, and even with Victor’s under-armor, sweatshirt, and sweats, Victor was freezing. He needed to stay loose though. Even if he wasn’t going to be doing a lot of acrobatics tonight—Agni and Red’s plan really was thorough—he still needed to be able to move freely. He kept his head down but still took careful note of his surroundings. Outdated and abandoned brick apartments lined an empty street with very few cars. Snow covered every surface because it was allowed to. This wasn’t the kind of street that someone would care to maintain, to insure easy access to. It was practically a ghost town. He wondered if Red was waiting for him and decided to pick up the pace, just in case. Eventually, the school came into view. It was very much like the apartment buildings with dark broken windows and a crumbling brick face. It was much bigger though, even with the caved in roof of the gym. The gaping hole explained how Olivia got in to wait for her transport. It made him think about who else was in these seemingly lifeless buildings. He shivered as he slipped into a nearby alley to take his mask out and put it on. There could be more people here than what met the eye… and they could be very close. Someone touched his shoulder. Ice shot from his fingertips as he spun around. In front of him was Red Specter, bent at a strange angle, several ice picks wedged into the brick behind him. Victor sighed in relief and dropped his hand. “You can’t sneak up on me like that,” he smiled even though Red wouldn’t be able to see it. “Sorry.” * Was he out of his mind?! And was Yuuri crazy for agreeing to do this? His heart thundered in his chest as he looked at the ice plunged into the very solid wall behind him. He had agreed to help so quickly, but that shot could’ve been Yuuri’s life! Hell, this whole mission could be the end of him! He looked nervously at Victor—he almost didn’t believe it was him in that weird mask—and started feeling doubt for the first time. Sure, his plan was as meticulous as it could be within the time constraints and it minimized Victor’s involvement. But still, several things could go wrong, including Victor exacerbating his injury. * “Are you ready for a very humanizing story?” Victor chuckled uncomfortably when Red continued to stare at him. “I have a little brother. He’s the one who got this mask… I didn’t really have a choice in the matter.” Red pointed at Victor’s stomach and then made an ok sign with his hand. He had forgotten that Red used sign… but it occurred to him that he didn’t need to as he remembered the night Red whispered in his ear. He was probably doing it to protect his identity then. He did it again and Victor shrugged to tell him he didn’t know what Red was referring to. Red’s shoulders slumped as if impatient and he walked up to Victor. Before Victor could register what was happening, Red was lifting Victor’s sweatshirt up by the hem. “W-woah, what do you think you’re doing?!” Red ignored him and gently tugged his under armor up too, exposing his stomach to the chilly air. Victor stammered out confused protests as he tried to push Red’s hands away without disturbing his wound, which Red was bending down to look at. “Oh, are you… checking it? You should just say so. It’s fine,” he said, feeling his ears grow hot as Red gingerly patted the skin around the bandages. They were clean and properly secured. Red seemed satisfied and pulled the under armor back over it. “I can do that,” Victor said quickly. There had to be a better way of communicating with Red than this. Red gestured to Victor then the school where Olivia was and started walking. It was about to begin. * It was a small comfort that Victor was healing well, but a comfort nonetheless. All Yuuri had to do was stick to his plan, and everything would be fine. Everyone would get out of this in one piece and he’d get an Orion ruby out of it. It was a massive sacrifice on Victor’s part to give it up. He wondered what Victor would have to do to get it, how much trouble he’d get in… it almost didn’t seem fair. Now that Yuuri had calmed down, and was actually walking into the school with Victor (it wasn’t so much walking as it was slipping through a broken window), he realized that this job was a no-brainer. Sure, fighting a giant would be challenging, but definitely not impossible. He’d subdued a gem dragon before. He had enhanced strength. He wasn’t putting much on the line. Victor on the other hand was burning his values on an altar built for Yuuri, who was just a man. Phichit was right. Victor had a much deeper connection to this job than he was letting on… They walked soundlessly down the dusty halls towards the gym. Their intel was fuzzy about Olivia’s exact location, but there was no other place big enough for her to wait. It was also facing the parking lot so her drivers could easily pull in. There was already a freight truck parked in front next to an old school bus. They guessed that the victims would be unloaded from their individual vans and loaded into the truck once they arrived. It was the only thing that made sense. They crouched below the eye level of the gym doors as they approached. Yuuri got a good glimpse of Olivia before he ducked down. She really was giant. Even with her head bowed, her strawberry blonde locks brushed against the rafters as she slowly paced the snowy gym floor. Yuuri thought if she weren’t pure evil, she would actually be quite attractive, with large dark eyes and round features. She was wearing all black—an enormous trench coat, scarf, gloves, and skinny jeans. He wondered if she was trying to be covert and thought that ship sailed when she was born. He noted the jeans, thankful that she hadn’t worn anything thicker… If she had, he would have to be much more creative and… acrobatic for his plan to work. He gestured with two fingers at the door to let Victor know he was going in. As soon as the door creaked open, Olivia whipped her massive head around in surprise. She swore and Yuuri bolted left, directing her attention away from the door where Victor was supposed to sneak in. It worked a little too well. Olivia charged him, aiming kicks like a wrecking ball that he barely dodged. “Well, well…” she crooned in a smooth voice, “I wonder who let the cat out of the bag this time.” Yuuri glanced around her massive ankle which was level with his knees to see that Victor had successfully slipped behind the bleachers. Right. Time for offense. He charged forward to get her to stumble back, give him a clearer shot of her legs. He leaped and clung to her right shin, pulled out a syringe, and shoved it into her skin. She yelped and plucked him off, but it was too late. The tranquilizer was already in her system. One down, three more to go, he thought with triumph as she threw him across the gym into a wall like a golf ball. He choked as the wind was knocked out of him. He would definitely feel that in the morning, but what else was new? He slid down the bleachers and scrambled around Olivia who was snarling at him. “Who do you work for?” she snapped. “Is it Lam?! Or are you Fujiwara’s little ninja?!” Yuuri tripped in mid sprint. Surely he heard wrong… but he had to have heard correctly, because this was Kazuya he was dealing with. Kazuya was Fujiwara’s doctor before Yuuri. He didn’t know what kind of atrocities Fujiwara had Kazuya commit because Yuuri never had to do anything more than save a life he couldn’t care less about. It was now abundantly clear that Kazuya was trusted with something more, something sinister. It was also clear that he was alive. “I told Fujiwara there was an issue last time! We’re making up for it now!” Making up for it? Yuuri felt something jerk in his stomach and his blood ran hot. But this time, he was quicker to realize that he was getting angry. That anger alone fueled the nearly ten foot jump he made up Olivia’s thigh to plunge the second syringe through her jeans. * Victor wondered who trained Red Specter and at what point did they lose control of him. He watched in awe as Red darted and ducked around Olivia’s boulder sized kicks and punches. He was still dumbstruck by the spectacular leap he made. This time, Olivia wasn’t quick enough to grab him. He dismounted like a graceful wild cat and landed neatly on his feet. Red tossed the syringe over his shoulder and cracked his neck before running at Olivia again. Victor had never sat on the sidelines to watch a four star fight. He wondered if this is what he looked like to other people. Then he realized that Red was grossly underrated. Sure, he was rough around the edges. But still. There was no way he was just a two star thief, not with that sheer power, he thought as he winced at a punch that nearly took Red out. Red didn’t dodge it this time. He blocked it. Both of his feet firmly planted and both of his hands holding one of hers at bay like a ram butting heads with a bull. Red roared at the effort before suddenly diving under and behind Olivia who stumbled forward at the lack of purchase. She whipped around, hand striking out like a viper and Red jumped, landing on her arm. Victor didn’t see the syringe go in but it must have because Red was throwing this one behind him too. But he wasn’t lucky again. Olivia plucked him off and pelted him against another wall. He almost wanted to look away but Red was sitting up, clutching the back of his head. Olivia lifted her foot. Red wasn’t looking.
Now.
Victor closed his eyes in concentration and imagined a wall of ice in front of Red. When he opened them, it was there, a three foot thick shield between Red and her boot tip. She whipped her head around to the bleachers, large eyes flashing dangerously. “Shadows are for snakes and vermin. Come out, come out, you little insect.” Victor stayed perfectly still. Olivia crept forward but wobbled violently. The tranquilizer was starting to work. She meandered closer but Victor stayed put. He saw Red crawl from behind the wall and amble clumsily to his feet. She spun around and aimed another kick at him, but Victor blocked this with another solid wall. She howled and hopped back in pain, falling on her butt. She crab walked away from Red and, to Victor’s horror, reached behind her to snatch the bleachers he was hiding behind into the air. She hurled this at Red who tumbled out of the way as Olivia got back to her feet. Victor quickly tried to side step behind the neighboring bleachers, but it was too late. Olivia had seen him. She leered. “Hello, bug.” She reached for him and Victor braced for impact but it never came. He blinked, and Red was in front of him, holding Olivia’s hand at bay again. Victor closed his eyes. He willed five ice pillars to sprout from the ground and push Olivia’s fingers back. He opened his eyes and saw them—each pillar pushing on a finger and surrounding Red in a loose cage. But the fifth one was weak, and cracking under her thumb. He sucked his teeth—he was good at using his power with just his mind but it was a thousand times easier to use his body. He couldn’t risk hurting himself though. He held out his fist and gripped hard, hoping that would do the trick. The thumb pillar hardened. Olivia gave up on closing her fist around Red and reached for Victor with her other hand. He took a deep breath and an icy spike impaled her palm, inches from his face. “Aaaagh!” Her wailing was deafening. Melon sized droplets of blood splattered down on them. Victor stepped aside and Red lunged forward, plunging the last syringe into her calf. She shrieked and swung her arm at Red who danced around it, with a little less grace than before. All that was left was to defend while they waited for the tranquilizer to take her out. Just one dose was designed to take down a komodolope, an antler-headed Godzilla like creature that was just as vicious but not nearly as tall as the real thing. Giant blood was much stronger, Victor thought as he slipped behind more bleachers away from Olivia. It pained him to hide during a fight, but it was part of the plan. It was going well so far, so he didn’t want to mess things up. He was surprised Olivia was lasting this long, and Victor was starting to think she would never stop lashing out when she suddenly fell to her knees. She tumbled forward like fresh lumber and before she could bash her head into the gym floor, Red rushed forward to catch her. He disappeared in a cascade of strawberry blonde waves, giving Olivia the eerie appearance of having a floating head. Red slowly rested her forehead on the ground, and crawled out from under her hair. Lustrous strands spilled over his shoulders as he stood up and stretched. “Go team,” Victor said, feeling a wave of relief as he walked up to Red. Phase one of the plan was complete, and now they just needed to wait for phase two. Let Olivia’s drivers come to her and take them all out in one place. It was safer and more realistic than trying to take out each individual van while they were in transit. Red gestured to ask if Victor’s wound was ok again. Victor snorted once and taunted “I don’t know. Maybe you should check it for me.” Red reached for his sweatshirt again and Victor suppressed what would have been an embarrassing squeak. “Ok,” he put Red’s wrists firmly at his sides, “that was definitely just a joke! Jeez, you’re almost as bad as Yuuri!” Red stared at him (maybe?? Where did he even find a mask that dark?) and Victor took it as a sign of confusion. He shrugged. “I guess you don’t follow me on Instagram then.” He took a seat on the bleachers and patted the space next to him. Red hesitated but plopped down, stretching out with a little groan. Victor gave him a sympathetic look that he’d never see. “While you’re so worried about me, you should worry about yourself. Is your head ok?” Red waved a dismissive hand which Victor had to accept—he wasn’t a doctor. He couldn’t do anything if Red was hurt except apologize. He huffed and gingerly leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees and cradle his chin. He watched Olivia’s gigantic lifeless body on the floor as there was nothing else to do. They had a little under twenty minutes before the drivers arrived. The silence was prickly. How many times had Victor thought about a moment like this—an opportunity to pick this man’s brain? Dozens of questions queued up at the tip of his tongue, shoving each other and trying their best to push past his lips. They had the time. Victor glanced at Red out of the corner of his eye. He was sitting with his head lolling on the seat behind him and his arms hanging limp at his sides: a picture of exhaustion. Victor chuckled under his breath but Red didn’t even turn to look at him. *
Ow.
* “Red…” Victor sat up and turned to him. “I… didn’t know when I would be able to do this, if at all until this happened, but… thank you. For saving my life that night. There aren’t many people in your position who would do that.” Red’s head tilted up a little in Victor’s direction. Victor swallowed and kept going. “And thank you for this too. It means…” The world? Everything? Surely, nothing so broad. It meant the start of the end of a nightmare he’d had since he was a kid. It meant hope in a corner of his heart that had always been hopeless, neglected, and abused. It meant healing and retribution. It meant that the hole in his chest that he felt in Yakov’s office last Friday was being filled with purpose. It meant that the strength he wished he had, the strength that was stolen from him, was being given back to him piece by piece. It meant… “it means more than I can even tell you. Thank you.” Red nodded. He rested his head back on the bleachers. Yes, this was right. The first thing that Victor said to Red should be thank you, not some blustery question that Red wouldn’t even be able to answer. And what’s more, no matter the circumstances, Victor was a hero. He may have bent the rules, but he still had one job, one responsibility. “I’m really grateful to you, Red Specter. I wish,” he shook his head, searching for the words, “I wish I could give you so much more than just that ruby, but I can’t. I lost that privilege as soon as I decided to be a hero. Unfortunately… I can only be who I am. I’m not someone who can repay you with the world. I’m someone who keeps his promises as a protector. After tonight… you’ll be Red Specter, underestimated international jewel thief, and I’ll be Winter Torch, the hero who brings him to justice. I’m not sure who you are under the mask… someone kind and maybe a little… selfish, but I’m starting to realize that you’re someone who has to be Red Specter. And I’m the same. I have to be Winter Torch. I just hope that doesn’t make you think that I don’t appreciate you.” Red was sitting up now, his attention trained to Victor. Victor didn’t know what to expect, what kind of response he needed and if he’d get it. He really did appreciate Red. He wished he could just be normal and a little bad, just so that he could show him how much he meant to him. What does he mean to me? The thought flickered in his head and one electric pulse shocked his heart before it vanished. The question made no sense. He would forget about it. He held out his hand. “To heroes and villains?” he offered quietly. Victor imagined a soft, thoughtful face behind this dark mask. The shadow’s head tilted, hesitated, and Victor could see someone just as young and lost as he was in the gesture. Slowly, Red Specter slipped his glove off, as if giving himself time to change his mind. Victor watched the movement, a starless sky revealing a soft olive tone that he was starting to think he had only dreamed about. Red took Victor’s hand in his and shook it once. “To who we have to be,” he whispered. * The three white vans arrived earlier than they had anticipated. When Victor and Red heard the tires crunch over the snow and gravel they walked out of the gym to greet them. Victor froze their tires, effectively stopping two of them, but the third one accelerated when the driver saw them. He was going to run them over and Victor couldn’t imagine an ice formation that would stop him without also harming the victims in the back. But Red raced forward, planted his feet, and stretched his hands out. Victor winced at the crunching sound that followed. He had instinctively closed one of his eyes, but it was clear that all the damage done was inflicted on the van. He whistled when he saw Red’s hand prints after he let the van go. He really wasn’t used to watching a hero work from the sidelines, especially not someone so strong. Not a hero. For some reason, he heard the thought in Yuuri’s voice as if he were saying “not a doctor.” He grinned to himself when the drivers began tumbling out of their vans, guns trained on them. They anticipated this. Victor closed his eyes and when he opened them again, the guns were jammed up with grapefruit sized ice cubes at the ends of their barrels. It wasn’t graceful or anything like he imagined, but it did the job. They cursed as they threw their useless weapons down and charged at Red. For someone who was obviously concussed, he moved quite easily, almost on instinct as he nearly guillotined one man with his leg and dislocated another man’s arm. Four more of their friends piled out of the back of the vans, and Victor destroyed their guns too. It was frustrating to work without his body, but at least it was good practice. He imagined icy spires lifting them by the backs of their shirts into the air and it happened. The structural integrity was good too, he thought with approval as they screamed from over thirty feet in the air. He turned back to Red, expecting him to need help, but he was sitting on top of the three unconscious men, hunched over, as if tuckered out. Victor laughed and offered his hand to help him up. Red took it and stood. “Heroes, villains, whatever,” he grinned. “Say what you want, but we make a pretty good team,” Victor said brightly. Red huffed a breathy exhale as he stepped closer to Victor. He reached for Victor’s waist. How many times was he going to check Victor’s wound? It wasn’t like Victor hadn’t been shot or even injured before, he thought agitatedly. But Red didn’t lift his sweatshirt. His hand lingered on Victor’s waist and he raised Victor’s other hand and laced their fingers together. Victor’s breath stopped short in his chest. Red moved in close. The only thing he could think of was how cold the world was and how close, how warm, the space between him and Red felt as the thief pulled him into a dance. Red Specter moved him back. Then forward. Then they swayed. Victor wondered what on Earth could be directing them if it wasn’t music. The shouts of four traffickers suspended in mid-air. The complaints of hidden crows. Red’s rough breathing. Victor’s heartbeat. He wondered if Red could hear it. His ears were burning with it. Any words that Victor may have had left his brain as Red Specter spun him in one swift movement, and when Victor turned back around… He was gone. Victor tripped back, shocked at Red’s sudden disappearance, the absence of his hands... Even as he looked at the stretch of lost buildings and bare trees, he knew he wouldn’t find the shadow he was looking for. “Hey, Blue Spirit!” Victor jumped, half expecting Olivia’s incensed face. Agni was standing next to the school bus. Even in the dark, Victor could see he was wearing the bird mask and red suit. He dangled a key for Victor to see and jerked a thumb at the bus. “Yip, yip!”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Derek Sharpe was devastatingly handsome, but Minako told Yuuri that he was dumb as a bag of doorknobs. Yuuri didn’t want Derek to know that he was being watched, so he eyed the mobster’s reflection in the shine of his glass. He was talking to some old aristocrat— Yuuri didn’t know what he was saying, but it was clear from the old woman’s crinkly smile and tittering that he was being charming. Minako could say what she wanted, but it took some level of emotional intelligence to be able to breathe life into a party as stuffy as this one. There were hardly forty attendees. The music was dull, and the only thing everyone had in common was their wealth. But Derek somehow made this night worth living. Yuuri heard the soft clink of silver against linen and his eyes snapped down.
Minako was setting down her fork, having finished her meal. She raised her glass, feigning taking a sip. “Lovely evening, isn’t it dear?” She spoke softly.
“There aren’t many people here,” Yuuri murmured back, subtly asking Minako about her escape plan. There was only one exit after all.
“Makes it easier to decide who to dance with,” she whispered, glancing ever so quickly at Derek before rising elegantly from her seat. And, of course, she wasn’t Minako tonight. She was Mira, a woman with large doe eyes, brown hair braided into an elegant bun, freckles, and peaky ears. Minako had imagined this face and then her own features melted away to be replaced by this young, vulnerable looking girl. To top it off, she was wearing an emerald green gown with golden lace details. She was stunning. “Be a good boy and wait for me,” she said, and Yuuri knew that meant “make sure to watch closely.”
She glided soundlessly to Derek, maneuvering around guests without them realizing she was there, even if she was as beautiful as the northern lights. Yuuri squinted, watched her steps. She was being patient. She moved as they moved and never said “excuse me” or placed a guiding hand on someone’s elbow to politely move them aside. She somehow managed to stay in everyone’s periphery, only as present as the air around them— a ghost. When she finally reached Derek, he didn’t notice her until she tapped a feathery finger on his shoulder. He jumped a bit as he turned to her, a small smile growing on his face, lighting up dark eyes as he drank her in. His lips didn’t move, so Yuuri supposed it was Minako who asked Derek for the dance that followed.
Hot panic crept up Yuuri’s neck. He thought they weren’t supposed to be seen by their target. He had been skeptical when Minako chose such a noticeable dress, but he trusted her instincts. And now, he was unsure as he watched his teacher reveal herself to the man they were supposed to be stealing from and to the few jealous onlookers around them. Should Yuuri leave? But he was certain Minako meant for him to watch. He stood up to find a place where he could discreetly get a better look, maybe even listen in.
“Can I have this dance?” A girl his age took his hands in hers before he could answer. He didn’t even notice her approach, he was so preoccupied with Minako. He smiled warmly and pulled her close so that he could continue to watch his teacher over the girl’s shoulder. Minako was laughing, running her hand down Derek’s back, letting him caress her cheek.
“What’s your name?” the girl asked.
“Kaito,” Yuuri lied easily. “Kaito Sakamura.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Kaito…” and Yuuri humored her benign small talk as he kept his eyes trained on Minako and Derek spinning across the sparse dance floor. He occasionally twirled the girl, whose name he had quickly forgotten, in order to see around people that got in his way. He studied Minako’s face, determined not to lose her…
Yuuri was only sixteen, but he wasn’t dumb. Though, it wasn’t as if Minako had ever minced her words around him either, he thought as Minako ghosted her lips over Derek’s ear. She had been very clear that their bodies were just another tool in their belts for the jobs that needed doing. She was also clear that they alone controlled these tools, and that anyone who asserted otherwise would be very, very sorry.
He wondered absently about what it was like. Yuuri knew that in instances like these, you had to be alluring but coy, intense but soft, commanding but pliable. Seduction was a delicate balance. Minako taught him the mechanics which is why she trusted him to bat his lashes at oil tycoons or lace pinky fingers with corrupt politicians. But he was still young, still not ready to lead a target behind a closed door. He’d have to wait for that part of his job, and he couldn’t help but wonder if, when the time came, he’d screw it up, blurring the lines between work and wanton desire.
The girl pulled back to look at him and Yuuri met her eyes before looking shyly away, smiling as if she had admitted to knowing an innocent and tender secret of his. He saw her beam proudly in his periphery. He kept watching Minako. She was swaying slowly with her arms wrapped around Derek’s neck, eyes dark and focused. She looked as if she were seeing the world for the first time. Yuuri had seen that look before.
He twirled his date, sending her lilac dress out in a lovely flourish. When he looked back, Minako was gone.
He lost her. Derek did too. Yuuri gasped and he faintly heard the girl asking if she had stepped on his foot. It happened as she gave Derek a quick and flirty spin, turning him around so that his back was too her. Yuuri watched as Derek turned back to find that Minako had vanished. His pearly smile faded into confusion as he craned his neck over the crowd to find her. Yuuri did the same thing.
But then he realized he was being frantic. He was behaving like Derek, as if she had actually vanished or started sprinting for the door. The former was impossible and the latter would’ve made her far too easy to find… she was hiding. Yuuri trained his eyes on the swaying crowd and soon found her. Minako was always adept at finding shadows where there typically were none. He watched in awe as she ghosted from dancer to dancer, hovering by them, sticking to “shadows” or places the untrained eye naturally ignores. With her head bowed, she blended in as easily as a dandelion seed floating on the wind while Derek continued to be the sun that pulled everyone in, creating an effective barrier between him and the girl that escaped him.
Yuuri watched Minako until she was out the door. He waited a while and watched Derek get over his disappointment at losing his Cinderella. Then, he asked the girl if she’d like a drink. He had to be certain that no one noticed that he was following Minako before he left… he had to space their escapes out well... just to be safe…
“I know who you are,” the girl said over her glass of cranberry juice. Yuuri stared blankly at her. Had he heard that right? “I know who you are.” Her voice grew deeper as she echoed each word.
“W-what?”
“I know what you are,” she rumbled in a voice that wasn’t her own, but somehow more familiar to Yuuri. Her long dark hair began to bleach before his eyes, turning a curious shade of silver, and her violet eyes seemed to freeze over to a shocking blue. “This is not who you have to be,” she said in that deep voice.
“What are you…?” Yuuri reached out for his own drink and found that he was wearing black gloves. When he looked up, the girl had risen from her seat, sending a curtain of silver hair to fall down her waist as she waded through a dance floor of squawking crows. He got up, barely registering the absence of all the dancers as he realized his entire body was wracked with pain. He groaned as he felt a sharp twinge in the back of his head. When he raised his hand to rub it, he saw that the glove was torn, revealing ravaged bloody palms. He looked up to find the girl. He didn’t want her to leave. Something was wrong… he needed help. He called out, and his voice failed him. He opened his mouth again and realized he was wearing a mask. He at least needed Minako. He turned for the exit and stumbled back when he found a giant head blocking his path, an enormous strawberry blonde woman’s face glaring at him.
YUURI!
“Dare ga…!”
“Boku desu.” Yuuri’s vision swam as he realized he was sitting up in bed with Phichit hovering over him looking concerned. “It’s me, Yuuri, it’s me,” Phichit said, his eyebrows crinkling together. He was no longer in the immaculate banquet hall, and the more he blinked, the more he could make out the minimalist furniture of his bedroom. Ah. He must’ve been dreaming. “What happened,” he croaked, because that still didn’t explain why Phichit was here. “You yelled for help. Did you have a nightmare?” Yuuri sighed and sank back into bed. The pain from his dream was very real, he thought as his head throbbed. Even the part with Minako was real, a memory that was still fresh in his mind. But that end… “It was just a little too vivid for my liking. Sorry to worry you,” he mumbled into his blankets. “Don’t worry about it,” Phichit said. “Are you sure you’re ok?” Yuuri sighed again and didn’t answer. Phichit told him to scoot over and he did, allowing him to crawl in beside him. They laid in silence as Yuuri thought about how truly terrifying his world had become. Even moments when he was supposedly safe felt empty. Whenever he woke up, he was alone and in pain. It made him feel lost, as if those were the only things he’d ever be, like a bug on its back, twitching as it slowly died. He was so accustomed to that feeling that having his friend next to him in that moment made him want to cry. It also made him feel for his friend who must’ve felt the same way at some point. Phichit may not deal with particularly dangerous types, but it wasn’t like he was making deals with girl scouts for thin mints. One wrong move, one misguided decision, and Phichit could be killed. Or worse. He wondered how often Phichit thought about that. He wondered if people like Scavenger kept him from sleeping at night. If he was being honest, he was done being mad at Phichit. He was done pushing him away. He loved his friend and needed him in his life. But… he couldn’t trust Phichit anymore, not the way he used to when they first started down this journey together. He didn’t know why, but he just had a feeling that there was something important that Phichit wasn’t telling him. His friend wasn’t being completely truthful. So where did that leave them? Yuuri would have to keep him at arm’s length, he thought sadly, but still close enough that he could reach out and grab Phichit to keep him from falling. And who was he kidding? Phichit was the one who had been keeping Yuuri from getting killed for years… maybe Phichit didn’t need Yuuri as much as Yuuri needed him... He didn’t realize he was staring at his blankets until he met Phichit’s eyes. “Victor asked about you.” “What?” “Yeah, he’s totally in love with you.” “What?!” Yuuri lifted his head in shock. Phichit smirked and cleared his throat. “I’m worried about him,” Phichit declared in a deep, flowery voice as if he were personifying Hamlet in a one dollar show, but it was no doubt his take on Victor. Yuuri grimaced. “He’s concussed. He shouldn’t be going back by himself. How do you know he’s ok? Can you call him? I want to talk to him. I would kill myself if anything happened to him—” “He did not say that!” Yuuri sat up and Phichit laughed. “I took some creative liberties with that last part but the rest of it was definitely canon.” He sat up too when Yuuri sucked his teeth and rolled his eyes. “There are over a dozen witnesses to the fact and I know where they all live if you don’t believe me,” he said. “That won’t be necessary,” Yuuri pouted. “Between Yuuri Katsuki and Red Specter, Victor is going to have a heart attack.” “Not if I don’t die of one first,” Yuuri said hitting Phichit over the head with a pillow. “I didn’t do anything.” Phichit snorted and yanked the pillow away. “Uh, since when is slow dancing with someone ‘nothing’? I saw what you did.” “That— that was tactical!” Yuuri spluttered. “Mhmm, I know it’s all part of your ten step plan for making Victor your husband. Step one, find him in a dark alley. Step two, hold his hand. Step three—” “Shut up!” “— stitch him up. Step four, grind on him.” “Not listening,” Yuuri took the pillow back and covered his ears with it. “Step five, demand payment.” Yuuri tossed the pillow off the bed. “How was I supposed to leave last night?! That was part of your plan remember? You told me it wasn’t smart to travel with him and it wasn’t like I had plenty of opportunities to escape unseen in a space as open as that.” “Yeah, but dancing with him, Yuuri? Really? You know how he feels.” “I know nothing of the sort. And Minako taught me--” “Minako?! Oh honey…” Phichit shook his head, half amused, half sympathetic. “What?!” “Minako was a honeypot assassin before she went rogue, remember? Emphasis on honeypot.” “I…” his excuse died on his lips but he still wanted to wipe the smug look off of Phichit’s face. It was true… a week after that banquet, he found out by eavesdropping on his parents’ conversation that Derek Sharpe had been murdered. He never thought about it much until now, but it was very possible that Minako had killed him. She probably did it in front of Yuuri without him or Derek even realizing it. And Derek was so gone over Minako— Mira. Yuuri could tell. He always could. She had that power over people. Her actual power was the ability to completely alter her appearance, but her magnetism was what made her deadly. She never seemed to get too carried away either, never falling into her own traps. Unlike Yuuri. He bit his lip and closed his eyes, thankful that Phichit had taken out his phone to scroll through. Even now, he could tell that he was the same as he was when he was sixteen. Sure, he was now old enough to realize and fully accept that his upbringing was more than inappropriate. But facts were facts. He was still immature, inexperienced, and definitely not ready to be the kind of hidden threat that Minako was. He knew it. He knew it because he couldn’t stop thinking about Victor’s chest against his. He still remembered the warmth between their hands. He remembered the electricity of having his own hand on Victor’s hip. He loved the way they moved together, the way Victor easily followed him. He shouldn’t be thinking about it, but he wanted to do it again. Even if there was no music. Even if it was cold and damp and he felt like he was dying. He wanted to hold Victor again. “You know, there’s no need to be embarrassed,” Phichit said making Yuuri jump. “I’m not embarrassed,” he retorted. “Really?” Phichit looked at him from over his phone. “I’m just thinking…” “About?” “How I could never kill anyone.” “Uhh…” his eyebrows pinched together, “I’m glad?” Yuuri shook his head, realizing that was confusing. “Like… I could never trick someone... or seduce them, rather, to--” “Let me stop you there.”
“Phichit…”
“Alright then, phrase it better!” “I could never seduce someone without it meaning something to me too!” Yuuri said and Phichit nodded thoughtfully. “I couldn’t just do it to kill someone or steal from them like Minako did.” “So what you’re saying is… dancing with Victor meant something to you?” “I didn’t—” “Your words, not mine.” “I was trying to help him, Phichit.” “Because you care very, very deeply about him.” Yuuri pursed his lips and Phichit gave him a wolfish grin. “Sure.” “Well, that’s natural. And I don’t expect you’ll be needing to seduce anyone to their demise in the near future, so you don’t have to worry about that. Even if you did, I suspect you’ll find that there’s only one person that can have this kind of… effect on you.” “I am not effected.” “Sure, Jan. Victor, fifteen witnesses, and half a kidnapping ring all say otherwise, but go off I guess.” Yuuri grunted and decided to fuss with a stray thread on his blanket. “Were any of the victims injured?” Phichit smiled but there was no insufferable goofiness in it, “They were a bit roughed up but they were all in one piece.” “That’s good,” Yuuri sighed contentedly, “did you make it to the police station alright?” “Well… yes,” Phichit hesitated. “What happened?” “Nothing bad, I was just a bit… surprised, I guess.” When Yuuri looked confused he continued. “When I told them we were taking them to the police station, most of them said they didn’t want to go… they asked to be taken home.” “Yeah?” “A few of them went along with us, but we ended up dropping most of them off at their houses or at a safe place for them to call a friend to be picked up… I would think that they would want to report what happened but…” he scratched his head in thought, the memory clearly still poking at him. “But Victor seemed to get it. He told them they could go to the police any time they wanted and gave them the History Maker phone number.” “Hmm.” If Yuuri was being honest, he wished he had been there with Phichit and Victor. He didn’t like leaving before a job was technically done. He knew from news reels that Victor handled post disaster situations with the utmost tact and grace and he wondered what it felt like to be there to witness that. To be comforted and reassured by a hero, a modern day Hercules. Of course, it wasn’t “Winter Torch” who was there last night, but Victor. A desperate Victor whose heart was more attached to this mission than any mission he had before. Yuuri wondered if Victor’s response to the victims last night came from experience… “You think Victor’s been… kidnapped before?” Yuuri asked softly. Phichit’s face fell as if the strings pulling them into a smile were slowly losing their tautness. “If I’m being honest… I wouldn’t be surprised,” he said, “but I hope that’s not the case.” “It would explain why he was so understanding last night… besides him being a hero and all.” “I wonder if there are any heroes who haven’t suffered some terrible tragedy.” “Well… there’s JJ,” Yuuri said with a small chuckle. “Yeah,” Phichit snorted. “I think he started calling himself a hero before the rest of the world did.” “At least he’s confident.” He pulled the covers back to get out of bed and shuffle to his closet. He pulled on a shirt and turned to Phichit. “Sorry again for worrying you before. It was just a stupid dream,” he said and for some reason, Phichit seemed to frown. “You can go, if you want.” “O-ok…” he said. “What?” Phichit shrugged and shook his head as he walked to the door… but he didn’t leave. He stood there with his back to Yuuri, fingers drumming nervously on the doorknob. “Phichit?” “It’s nothing… sorry,” and he walked out. But he was still there, fists clenched and swaying at his sides. “Phichit, I can tell—” “I know you’re angry at me,” he said suddenly as he turned around. “Angry? I… I’m not,” and he stopped when he saw the look on Phichit’s face. “I’m kind of… upset. But I’m not angry anymore, Phichit. And even if I am upset, I don’t want you to think that means you can’t tell me about things that are bothering you.” “I…” Phichit rocked nervously on his feet, “well that’s… good to know.” “So, uh… what’s bothering you?” “Bothering me? Nothing’s bothering me.” “But I can sense something’s up. You can tell me. The same way I always tell you stuff.” “I can’t tell you,” he said and it sounded as if he accidentally swallowed the end of his sentence. It stung. “What do you mean?” Yuuri asked. “I just… I mean, I know you say you’re not angry right now… but I don’t know when you’re going to be angry at me again. And I don’t want to tell you when we’re like… this,” he said gesturing at the space between them as if their damaged friendship was sprawled out on the floor there. Yuuri blinked and shook his head, “But… there is something wrong, then. Something’s upsetting you.” “It doesn’t matter what’s upsetting me,” Phichit laughed dryly. “Of course, it matters! Why won’t you tell me?” “Not now, Yuuri!” “Then when?” “I don’t know! Yuuri, I’m trying my best to be more honest with you—” “Then this is great practice.” “Not like this…” “So I’m just… wait…” Yuuri paused in putting on his socks, worry folding into his face. “Does this have anything to do with me?” Phichit was silent. He stared at his feet. “Is it like last time?” Yuuri asked, a whisper. Phichit didn’t say anything and Yuuri felt cold. “Great. Is it at least something I would want?” “I should hope not,” Phichit said shakily, like he wished he hadn’t said it at all. “Fantastic.” Yuuri said plainly, fighting like Attila the hun against every single resentful thought that crossed his mind. He was trying to fix this, not make it worse. He wasn’t convinced that the state of their friendship was his fault, but it definitely would be if he left it alone to fester and die. But the god forsaken secrets! Just when he thought he’d seen the last of them. Here was another secret Phichit was keeping, one that he’d hoped Yuuri wouldn’t like. How was he supposed to not be upset by that? He would have to fake it. Because whether he liked it or not, they were stranded. Both of them were far away from home, far from the safety of normalcy. It was one thing if Yuuri was actually just a nurse and Phichit worked in IT at some company. They could part ways. But the world was never so boring when it came to them. He couldn’t bare to think about Phichit being in trouble and Yuuri not being there to help, all because of an unsettling secret. It was dangerous to be alone. His head twinged and a muscle in his back ached like they were agreeing with him, providing evidence to back him up. They only had each other. And he still cared. They couldn’t leave each other. No matter what. “Absolutely fantastic.” He limped back to his nightstand for his glasses. “And to be clear… yes, I’m upset. But you’re still my friend, Phichit. We’re still…” “Yeah,” Phichit said sadly, forcibly reminding Yuuri of how bad he was at emotions. “I’ll make breakfast,” Yuuri said, trying to change the subject. “I’m not hungry.” “Yes you are.” And they both went into the kitchen, Phichit slumping at the table and Yuuri pulling eggs and leftover pancake mix out of the fridge. He hesitated at the pantry before sighing and pulling out the Oreos. He crushed up a handful and put them in the mix. It was an abomination, but at least Phichit would like it. He thought about more ways to distract him as he started frying the eggs. “Do you have work today?” “Gotta meet up with Mr. Torch,” he mumbled into his hand. “Oh yeah,” he had almost forgotten and he couldn’t help but smile. “He’s gotta get that ruby for me.” “Mhmm. That’s four down and three more to go. What are you gonna do when Lam finally pays you?” “Move out of Spring Gate,” Yuuri said immediately and regretted it. He didn’t need to turn around to see the damage that had dealt. He could feel the tension. Of course saying that made it seem as if he was leaving Phichit, and of course it was just like him to make things worse when he was trying to mend them. “I just don’t feel safe here, is all,” he amended. “What about you?” “I don’t know what the future holds for me, Yuuri, so I can’t say.” Did he think that Yuuri didn’t want to be roommates anymore? He bit his lip and flipped over a pancake. “If you want, we can still—” “I’m just being dramatic,” Phichit said and Yuuri glanced at him over his shoulder. He was doing his best to fix his face. “I just don’t know what I want yet, I guess. I want things to be ok… to be better. But I don’t know if that ‘ok’ will be what I’m hoping for… if it’ll somehow be too different. But ‘ok’ is ‘ok,’ right? That didn’t make any sense...” “Yes it did,” Yuuri said softly, because he agreed. A change was coming. How could it not when there were billions of dollars’ worth of rubies hiding in his closet right now? He didn’t care if that change drove him to camping in the Netherlands, if it meant he and his loved ones were alive and well. If it meant he could be sort of normal. If it meant he was ok. “It makes complete sense.” “In any case, Victor will be playing cops and robbers soon, so I have to finalize a few things with him.” “He’s risking quite a lot, isn’t he?” “It is what it is, I suppose,” Phichit said. “He came to the underworld for help and this is the price. It may not have seemed like it at the time, but you two were being watched in Detroit. Word will get out that you did a job there and if the wrong people find out you did it for free...” he shrugged, leaving the rest to Yuuri’s imagination. “It’s bad guy psychology.” “It’s in the vault, right, the ruby? Do you know what he’s up against?” “Not exactly. I haven’t had the chance to research, but I can’t imagine he’ll get in and out without some kind of confrontation. No matter what he does, he’ll be found out.” Yuuri exhaled guiltily as he arranged the eggs and pancakes on plates (he gave all the Oreo infested ones to Phichit). “I can’t even imagine the consequences he’d face for that… and all for doing his job. For saving not one life, but a dozen in one fell swoop.” “Fifteen lives, to be exact,” Phichit said and smiled when Yuuri put his plate in front of him. “You haven’t met Boss before—” “Yakov.” “Uh, right. You haven’t met him before, but trust me, you wouldn’t want to be reprimanded by him, even if you were close. I had the pleasure of speaking with him at the hospital and it was like the air I was breathing was ten pounds heavier than normal.” “He’s got that reputation going for him, doesn’t he?” Phichit said through a mouthful of pancakes. “And Iron Angel…” he said, letting eggs slip off his fork as he shuddered at her memory. “A winged nightmare,” Phichit nodded. “Do you think he’d… I don’t know. Lose a star for this? Or even lose his hero status?” “Of course not,” Phichit said, but he looked worried. “He’s Winter Torch. Who else do they have?” “Who am I to force the world to find out?” Yuuri pouted. He hated this. How was he supposed to allow Victor to compromise his position as a hero, to risk taking away one of the world’s prized guardians? And it wasn’t like Yuuri could let Victor off either. He could be killed. It wasn’t fair. But then again, Victor made a deal with someone whose whole life was just a continuous series of bad luck. “What would you have him do instead,” Phichit asked as he got up to prepare coffee. It was a rhetorical question but… Yuuri sighed and ran a hand through his bangs. “I could change my price.” * Yuuri said he wasn’t angry anymore. He said he was just upset. That should’ve made Phichit feel better, because it was something but it just didn’t. It was like a parent saying they weren’t angry, just disappointed. It also didn’t help that none of it mattered because Yuuri would never know why Phichit was lying and keeping secrets, even if Phichit did somehow make it back to him in this lifetime. He would never be able to explain himself. So all he could hope for was “ok”. That’s all he had left. There were worse things, he supposed, as he washed down the last of his oreo pancakes with coffee. They had both retired to their own rooms after breakfast because now, because of Yuuri, Phichit had more work to do. He dialed an old number and it picked up on the second ring. It was loud on the other end with the sound of cantankerous laughing and shouting. He heard the telltale sound of glass slamming on wood. “Agni, you sly hawk! What corner of hell are you ringing from this time,” his contact boomed. “The same one you first crawled out of, Laszlo.” There was a pause before Laszlo exploded with laughter. “So you’re resting in Satan’s den, eh? Ol’ Spring Gate,” he growled and it seemed quieter then. Phichit guessed he must’ve left for somewhere more private to talk. “You always were fearless. Whaddya want from me?” “I was wondering how that lindworm fared you. You did sell it, right?” “Ah, I sold it alright. Moved it from Sophia to Crete in one piece. Well, almost one piece anyway. Haven’t needed to work since. Need and want are two different things though, aren’t they…?” Phichit hummed at that, thinking about the dragon he put Laszlo onto. He could never in a million years transport something that vicious by himself, but for Laszlo, it was just a fun game. “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself then,” he said. “Mhmm. That ain’t why you called, chickadee.” Phichit laughed, spinning idly in his seat. “No. I’m actually calling to cash in one of the favors you owe me.” Laszlo huffed a gravelly sigh. “I knew that lindworm would bite me in the ass one way or another.” “It’s not the big favor. Just a little one. All I need you to do is to fill up a truck, then make that truck disappear with everything in it.” “Doesn’t sound like too much fun.” “That’s why it’s called a favor, Laz. It’s a very small price to pay the person responsible for bumping you up the tax bracket.”
“Taxes?”
“You know what I mean,” he said and Laszlo guffawed. “Alright, alright, alright, you win. As always. Who am I working with? Scavenger?” he asked excitedly and Phichit whirled around in his chair letting his head loll over the back. “I’m aware of your fondness for dogs but, do cats suit you? “Oho,” Laszlo grumbled. Phichit heard him take several deep gulps of whatever had him in such a cheery mood. “Now, this is interesting,” he said.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Victor felt as if his heart had been snatched out of his body as he, again, stood across from Agni below History Maker. He felt as if a car were coming his way and his feet were stuck in quicksand. This didn’t make sense—he must’ve misunderstood Agni. He stammered quietly for a second before squeezing his eyes shut to collect his thoughts. When he opened them again, he met Agni’s eyes through his mask. “What do you mean he’s changed his mind?” “I mean he’s changed his mind about the payment,” Agni said easily because he wasn’t the one that was putting his neck on the line in place of countless other innocent necks. “I agree it’s… unprofessional, and actually highly unusual for him, but…” “So why me?! Why is he doing this now?!” Victor yelled. None of this made sense. Agni sighed as if he were witnessing a child throwing a tantrum which only made Victor angrier. “The reason doesn’t really matter, Winter. The new deal does. Whether you like it or not, Red Specter fulfilled his side of the agreement and then some. The problem is that he’s not so sure that you’ll be able to do the same.” “He—it’s only been a day,” Victor protested because that was ridiculous and unfair, “he hasn’t even given me a chance!” “Well he feels that even if he did it would be impossible for you, so he’s changed his mind.” Agni said as he straightened his tie. “Again, totally unprofessional, but what are you gonna do?” Victor gritted his teeth, “I guess whatever it is that you tell me to do.” “You have until tomorrow night to come up with a suitable alternative,” Agni said and Victor gaped. “But—what—that’s nothing! I have work!” “Can you think of anything right now?”
“Now?!”
“Give it a try, rattle stuff off and see what you come up with.” It was rare that Victor felt cold and panicky like this. Nervous spikes of ice began protruding from the sides of his neck and down his hands as he looked anxiously around him for an answer—for a way out. “How should I know what he wants if it’s not the ruby?! Is it diamonds? A new suit? Airport access? Information? What does he want from me?! A date?!” Agni looked over his shoulder and checked his watch. “Is that all? Is that what you want me to bring back to him?” “What do you think, Agni?! I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing here! What’s he even going to do if I can’t pay him?” “He’ll handle it himself,” Agni said and turned his back to leave. Victor shot his fist out making several ice pillars appear to block Agni’s path. He turned slowly on his heel. “I asked you a question,” Victor said. He needed to know what he was risking. “What is he going to do?” When it came to the cold, desolate feeling that was beginning to wash over Victor, the physical space between them wasn’t nearly as guilty as Agni’s weighty silence. “Try to get some rest, Winter,” he said softly before disappearing. * Victor didn’t sleep that night. His mind was racing, frantically searching all of his memories for something, anything that would satisfy Red Specter so that he didn’t… didn’t what, exactly? The last he checked, Red Specter wasn’t violent. But he could be, couldn’t he? He leveled a giantess almost single handedly. But he didn’t let Olivia injure herself, Victor thought as the image of Red supporting the giant’s head came to mind. And then there was that fiasco at Xiao’s bank in Detroit. Chris was still being annoyingly tight lipped about that night, but there were an alarming amount of casualties. Casualties to the mafia though… that didn’t really count. There was a thin line between violent and defensive… but where did Red draw that line? And what exactly was he supposed to be defending by changing his mind? Victor, for the life of him, couldn’t figure out why the thief was suddenly being so selfish and manipulative, but then it was possible that Red was always this way. Victor acted like he knew Red Specter, but what did he actually know? He’d been naïve and now there was an invisible guillotine hanging above his neck. This was his fault. He sank further into his covers and pulled his pillow close to his chest as he did. He had to figure something out… The morning came and he still hadn’t found an answer. Yuri hadn’t come back with his car or Makkachin yet so he had to take the train to History Maker. He felt so numb he couldn’t even be as worried about his brother and dog as he wanted to be. There were too many things he had to figure out and he didn’t have the time. As he entered the building, a life-size origami dog scampered up to him. No one was in the lobby besides the receptionist who smiled warmly at him before looking back at his computer. Victor narrowed his eyes at the dog which sat back on its hindquarters, front legs folded to its chest. Even in this state, Victor couldn’t deny that it was cute. He bent closer and saw that there was a letter in its mouth, so he carefully plucked it free. The dog barked as it began chasing its tail and Victor opened the letter, another carefully stenciled memo from the new assistant, Cao Bin.
Good Morning Winter Torch,
I hope that you’ve been taking this time to recover from your injuries. You truly are an invaluable part of the History Maker community, so I urge you to take care of yourself. If there is anything that I can do to help you have an easier healing process, please let me know.
Both Iron Angel and Boss have requested your audience in Boss’ office. The nature of this meeting is both urgent and sensitive so I think it best that you meet them at your earliest convenience.
When you are done with this letter, feel free to ball it up and toss it. The dog will fetch it.
Sincerely,
Cao Bin
History Maker
Executive Assistant
When Victor looked down, the dog was indeed sitting at his feet, wagging its tail expectantly. He balled up the letter, threw it, and the paper pup was off. It made him miss Makkachin. He couldn’t think too much about it now, because something was up. Had they found out about his trip to Detroit that quickly? He really didn’t need to worry about that just yet. He wondered whether it would be better to wait the meeting out or to go up immediately… He might as well rip off the band-aid. The more he prolonged this, the less time he would have to find a way to pay Red. He got on the elevator and walked to Yakov’s office. Yakov grumbled for Victor to come in when he knocked. Yakov was sitting at his desk reading a file and Lilia was standing by his side reading over his shoulder with her arms crossed and wings folded neatly on her back. Yakov pointed at the chair in front of his desk so Victor sat. “Morning,” Yakov grumbled, still reading the file. Victor raised an eyebrow, “Morning…” he said, slightly unsure, “when were you going to tell me about Cao Bin?” “What?” “Your new executive assistant?” “What do you mean?” Yakov and Lilia both looked up at him in confusion. “I got a memo from him telling me to meet you two in your office.” “I’m sorry…” Yakov closed the file, “is there something wrong with that?” “Why didn’t you tell me you hired him?” Lilia tilted her head at him. “We hired him ages ago, Victor. Where have you been?” Where indeed. Victor sighed and shrugged. “I have been saying ever since we came to America that we need an assistant. It’s only these days that Yakov seems to actually listen when I talk,” she sniffed. “But he’s doing his job, now isn’t he?” Yakov opened the file again to bury his nose in it. “He’s… adequate,” she allowed, which, in Victor’s opinion was the highest praise. “But the fact of the matter is that we’ve been trying to reach out to new potential staff members for ages. We don’t just need new heroes, we also need trustworthy and capable individuals to fill technology, medical, and administrative roles if History Maker is ever going to survive… in any case, Victor, thank you for coming in so soon, because contrary to common belief, I am actually quite busy.” “Uh, of course,” Victor said wondering who’s belief that was supposed to be. “Cao said it was sensitive and urgent so…” he braced for impact. “Yuuri Katsuki…” Yakov droned and all the air hissed out of Victor like a punctured balloon. So he wasn’t in trouble. Yet. “Anri and Yuta Katsuki’s only son. He grew up in Hokkaido in a bakery. Attended public school, moved to America to study nursing, lives just outside of Spring Gate, etcetera, etcetera…” he placed the file down and looked to Victor as if waiting for him to respond. Victor shrugged. “Ok…? Sounds normal to me.” “Very normal, indeed,” Yakov growled. “I’m sensing that there’s a problem…” “The problem is that none of this is true, Victor.” Victor sighed and massaged his temple, “What are you talking about?” “This information, all of these documents, they’re fake,” he scattered the documents on his desk for Victor to look more closely at. He picked up a dental record from six years ago. “What am I supposed to be looking for?” “You can’t tell by just looking at one document,” Lilia explained which only made Victor more confused. “Then how do you know this is all fake?” “Because, Victor, no one has a paper trail—a history that’s without holes.” Yakov rolled his eyes and sighed when he saw Victor’s blank face. “As we go through life, whether we like it or not, we create physical documentation of our existence. Doctor’s visits, school records, gym memberships and check-ins at said gym.” “But sometimes,” Lilia continued, “there are small gaps. We might forget to clock in at work, or we’ll abstain from social media for a month. Perhaps we forget our dentist appointment one year. When people fall off the grid, so to speak, and start new lives, they create new histories for themselves. Most of these people are amateurs, and in their attempt to make a believable history, they over-document false life events to make their new identities seem credible. But these clean histories are suspicious to the trained eye.” “So…” Victor said, trying to be sure he understood, “what you’re saying is that Yuuri seems too innocent?” “No, not exactly,” Yakov said. “I don’t know if he made this himself or paid someone to do it, but whoever compiled this nonsense at least knew what they were doing.” “Which means there are gaps?” “Yes,” Lilia nodded. “Unfortunately for Mr. Katsuki though, those gaps are placed strategically enough to form a pattern. It was subtle, but I found it.” Victor thought Lilia looked rather proud of herself. “What pattern?” he picked up a middle school record which looked like it had been poorly translated into English. “I don’t think you’d understand if I told you, Victor, but it’s clear that whoever compiled this information was aware of the risk that creating a seamless paper trail would pose. So, they left some information out, but they didn’t realize that they were a bit too strategic about it, skipping the same number of days, weeks, and months from document to document.” Victor shook his head and gathered all the documents to stack them together. He placed them gingerly back in Yuuri’s file. “And? So what if they’re fake? Yuuri told Yakov that he used to operate on yakuza members, right?” Just then, the door opened. Victor turned around in his seat to see Celestino step in and hunch his shoulders defensively as he met all of their slightly scandalized expressions. He mouthed an apology. “Is this is a bad time,” he whispered. “Not at all, we just weren’t expecting you,” Lilia said. Celestino mouthed a thank you and tiptoed into a back corner. “I’ll wait,” he said. Victor turned back to Lilia and Yakov. “Maybe he was trying to escape the yakuza. If that’s the case, it makes sense that he would try to hide who he really was. It’s a matter of security.” “You’d think,” Yakov said and steepled his fingers on his desk, “but what I want to know is whether he’s protecting himself from the yakuza or protecting the yakuza from us.” It was Victor’s turn to roll his eyes as he sat back in his seat. “You think the nurse is in the yakuza.” Yakov shrugged. “I think the nurse is still connected to the yakuza,” he said as he procured a single flyer from his desk drawer and handed it to Victor. It was in Japanese, but it was clearly advertising an ice skating event. There were powder blue snow-flakes and cartoons of tiny child skaters running along the bottom. Again, Victor was nonplussed. “What am I looking at?” “Hasetsu Ice Castle presents the annual winter showcase featuring—it goes on to list several children’s names—and then do you know who’s at the bottom of that list, Victor?” He looked at the kanji which he had no way of understanding, but he assumed it was Yuuri’s. He gave it back to Yakov. “You think he’s actually from… Hasetsu? How do you know it’s not someone else with the same name?” “It’s a small town, Victor. Not that many Katsukis.” “And when I asked around for a Yuuri Katsuki,” Lilia said, “it was like I was asking about a ghost. No one had ever heard of him. You can’t even find this flyer at the Ice Castle.” “Well, how old is that flyer,” Victor asked defensively. He didn’t like the idea of making Yuuri out to be someone who couldn’t be trusted. Yuuri, who just so happened to be the only healthcare professional Victor could rely on since he was a child. Lilia pursed her lips and stiffened, “He… he would’ve been a child at the time this was made,” and Victor frowned. “But, this still connects him to Hasetsu.” “I’m assuming that there’s something important about Hasetsu, then?” Victor said dryly. Yakov drummed his fingers on his desk but was silent which actually made Victor nervous, though he didn’t know why. He glanced at Lilia who gave him a small, sad look but nodded, as if giving Yakov permission to do something. He sighed. “Victor…” he said. “Lilia didn’t find this flyer while investigating Katsuki. She found it in an ongoing investigation into a man known as Ikki Fujiwara.” Victor sat up. “And who’s that?” “We believe… that he may be linked to your abduction all those years ago, and to the apparent rebirth of the doctor Kazuya.” Victor took a deep, steadying breath as he steeled himself. Because, here again was Kazuya, infecting even the parts of his life that should have been pure and blameless. Here he was again casting shades of doubt and terror where there should’ve been hope. But Victor needed to be strong because this wasn’t about him anymore. That much was clear if the events from Monday night were any indication. He wasn’t the one that needed help anymore. He was the defender, the protector. He needed to act like it. Lilia gave him a sympathetic look and spoke up, “I was searching in what I believed was an abandoned safe house that used to belong to one of his underlings. I found that flyer there.” “Let me get this straight,” Victor said with what he was grateful was an even tone. “While investigating Ikki Fujiwara, you came across an old flyer with Yuuri’s name on it. But nobody from that town knows who Yuuri is…so you think that… maybe the town is covering him?” “I think it may be possible, yes,” Lilia nodded. “And you think that this is proof that Yuuri actually did live in Hasetsu, but left and started a new life in America to hide from the yakuza…” “Or, to do their bidding,” Yakov corrected softly. “And I know that Yuuri is from Hasetsu,” Lilia said. “But if Ikki Fujiwara really is connected to Kazuya, and Yuuri was trying to leave Hasetsu, how do you know he wasn’t a victim?” “Victor, this flyer was at one of their houses,” Yakov said gently but with obvious disbelief. “This isn’t them gathering intel on a target, this is them keeping a flyer advertising a child’s ice skating recital. This is very personal. The underling that owned this safe house had a connection to Yuuri’s family, a familial one. It isn’t a stretch to say that Fujiwara did too, and now we have a whole town that says they’ve never even heard of Yuuri Katsuki? A boy whose name was printed on god knows how many flyers? Flyers for a recital that would’ve been the event of the year in a town this small? Tell me you see the connection, Vitya.” Victor closed his eyes and shook his head, “You’re assuming the worst… anything could’ve happened…” “Like what?” Yakov demanded, “Believe it or not, I love finding the good in people, but when I’m right, I’m right, Victor.” “So you’re never wrong, huh?” “You know that’s not what I’m saying—” “And this isn’t a matter of right and wrong, this is a matter of ensuring your safety—” “I’m not the same child that was abducted, I can protect myself just fine,” Victor snapped and cut Lilia off. “We know, but if you insist on allowing Yuuri Katsuki to be your nurse—” “So you are talking about the Yuuri Katsuki I thought you were talking about,” Celestino said and covered his mouth when everyone turned to look at him again. “I’m sorry, please continue.” “Wait,” Yakov closed his eyes and held up his hand. “You know who Yuuri Katsuki is?” “Of course!” Celestino said, looking relieved that he was allowed to talk. “He was my student at the Grand Prix!” “Excuse me?!” Yakov spun in his chair to look at Lilia who huffed and put her hands on her hips. “I thought you knew that!” “W-how would I have known that?!” “Why wouldn’t you?!” “Lilia,” Yakov snarled but seemed to rein himself in when she cut him with her glare. “Why do you think I asked you about this boy in the first place?” “Well I assumed it was to find out why he disappeared from school,” she said. “Disa—” Yakov closed his eyes again and folded his hands in front of him as if praying before looking at Lilia again. “Disappeared from school?! What do you mean?!” “He disappeared before graduating,” Celestino said. “That’s actually what I came in to talk about.” “You have information on Katsuki?” Yakov asked turning to him. “Well… it isn’t really information. I saw him at the doctor’s office a while back and I just didn’t have time to tell you before,” he rocked awkwardly on his heels as Lilia and Yakov both gave him disbelieving looks. “I just wanted to talk, was all. It’s been a while since we all sat down.” “Why did this kid disappear, Celestino,” Yakov asked. “He said he had family problems,” Celestino said and Yakov exchanged a look with Lilia. “He claims everything’s fine now.” “Someone wiped the school records clean when he left,” Lilia said folding her arms again, clearly in thought. “It had to have been Phichit.” “Who the hell is Phichit?” Yakov looked to be at wit’s end. “Another student. He disappeared the same year Yuuri did. He was great with computers.” “Then he’s the one who made this crap!” Yakov gestured to the offending file on his desk. “Now can anyone tell me why two students left a school for supers without leaving any evidence of them having ever attended in the first place?!” “If your anger is directed at me, Yakov, you should know it is ill-placed,” Lilia hissed. “You have always been bad at communication. You led me to believe that you suspected Yuuri was dangerous because he mentioned the yakuza and because he disappeared from school. I thought you were trying to prove that he was working for them during those years he was absent.” “Was he?” Celestino asked interestedly. “That’s what I’m trying to find out,” Yakov said through gritted teeth. “But I guess,” he said as he stood from his chair and walked to his closet. “I’m going to have to find that out from the source.” He pulled out his coat and flung it on himself. “Where are you going?” Victor asked, finally resurfacing from this wave of new information. His heart raced faster with every new detail, and for some inexplicable reason, he couldn’t help but feel fear for Yuuri and...anger? “To his job. I’m going to ask him what he was doing during his gap years.” “He works nights though,” Victor said, standing up and trying to keep up with everyone who was already moving out the door, “he won’t be there.” “Then we’ll wait,” Yakov growled. “But what if he doesn’t work today?” Victor asked. “We’ll ask,” Lilia said as she secured a muffler around her thin neck. “And by we, I mean Lilia, Celestino, and myself, Victor,” Yakov said as he pushed the elevator button. “We’ll handle this.” “But—” “End of story. Go save a life. We’ve got this.” He piled into the elevator with Lilia and Celestino, and even though Victor should’ve felt protected and cared for, the smallest tinge of panic sprouted in the pit of his stomach. He wasn’t sure why though, he realized as the doors closed and took his surrogate parents away. If he believed Yuuri was innocent, he should feel fine—exasperated—but fine. But that wasn’t the case. Because he wasn’t so sure that Yuuri was innocent. Leaving the Grand Prix without a trace. Disappearing for years, so completely, that not even Lilia could find him until now… and suddenly reappearing in the same place as the abductions related to Kazuya, the man who tortured Victor, the man who created Winter Torch… Yuuri was someone who was trusted by the yakuza as a doctor for god only knows how long. How had that even happened? When did he start? While he was still at the academy? Was he really forced to do it, or did he consider it an honor? It was absurd imagining Yuuri in even the most remotely sinister light. Yuuri, who was soft but stern, shy but sure when it counted-- dependable. He looked at the clock hanging on the back wall of the breakroom--9:30. In this confusion about Yuuri, he had almost forgotten about his deadline. Red Specter’s deadline. Red Specter seemed dependable too, didn’t he? Just like Yuuri had. And now, here Victor was: forced to find a new offer for a thief he knew absolutely nothing about. There was nothing that he could offer Red that wouldn't jeopardize his position as a hero. But then again, he was prepared to steal from the vault which was quite possibly the most jeopardizing thing he could do apart from holding a knife to Yakov’s throat. He started pacing. That wasn’t what Red wanted, it couldn’t be. Red was compassionate. No matter what he had stolen, Victor remembered how Red had been patient with him that night in the alley. He remembered Red holding his hand. He remembered Yuuri laying a gentle touch on his forehead, Yuuri making sure he didn’t bite his tongue, Yuuri risking getting caught-- Ah. He stopped pacing and looked up as if someone had called his name. Not Yuuri. Red Specter. Red Specter had done those things. He ran his hands through his hair, trying to clear his head. How could he not confuse the two? Both of them had saved his life, both of them were formidable, both of them were keeping Victor more than a little preoccupied these days… Because they were the same. He felt like he was falling in slow motion and had no way to pull himself back up. They were the same person. They had to be. What were the chances that they weren’t the same? A boy who grew up working as a doctor for the yakuza, who dropped out of hero school, disappeared for years, reappeared as a nurse in the same city an evil doctor was reborn in… wasn’t secretly an international jewel thief who sometimes helped heroes? Who was he kidding? What other outcome was there for someone with that kind of background? It was Yuuri. It had to be. It was Yuuri who had danced with him last night. It was Yuuri who had changed his mind about Victor’s payment. And what would Yuuri want from Winter Torch? He still had no idea. He had no choice. He had to think about it from a thief’s perspective, if not a villain’s. He couldn’t make that leap, not yet. Not when he could still see Yuuri’s bambi brown eyes when he closed his own… Agni said that payment ensured Yuuri’s safety in the underworld. So this was about looking tough, about sending a message. What kind of message…?! “Victor…?” He snapped his head up. He had completely forgotten he was in the breakroom. It was Felix who had spoken and he was looking at Victor with apprehension. “Hmm?” He tried to straighten his expression, but he had no idea how he must’ve looked in this state. “Are you alright?” “Of course. I’m just a bit busy,” he said, feeling guilty for making him worry. “Ok…” Felix said, nodding. He did an odd little two step as if he wanted to leave but couldn’t bring himself to do it. “If you need anything… I know I’m not exactly the best or… I mean you’re Winter Torch, so… but everyone needs help sometimes… not necessarily from me but…” Victor blinked, “No, yeah, I appreciate that, Felix. Thank you.” “Yeah. History Maker’s got your back!” Felix said, seemingly gathering his courage. “I feel bad that you got hurt during hell week. If you had more help… in any case, I don’t care what my star ranking is. If you need help, I’ll be there. We all will.” “Felix, thank you,” Victor said, “that means a lot to me.” Felix gave him a toothy grin, exposing his fangs, before jogging into the kitchenette. Victor grinned when he heard him whispering to 88 and Axle, assuring them that he’d talked to Victor, giggling with them, arguing over the last iced coffee in the fridge. And then it hit him. That’s how a thief would send a message. By stealing from History Maker. By taking sensitive information from everyone in the organization as leverage. Everyone there would be in danger because of Victor. And because of Yuuri.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Yuuri limped into Spring Gate General, trying his best to seem normal and uninjured. His facade wouldn’t last long though. His colleagues were just as perceptive as he was. He was running out of excuses for all of his injuries—the healed over bite marks he barely managed to pass off as scrapes, his many, many concussions, and his limp which kept changing legs. At this rate, everyone was under the impression that he was just really bad at pole dancing, which was embarrassing because he was fantastic. He was sure that today, someone would tell him to just give up the activity completely. I wish. He thought bitterly to himself as he rounded a corner to clock in at the clinic. He’d been dreaming about giving up “pole dancing” since he was a teenager, but here he was. This wasn’t the time or place to brood over his plight though because he needed to focus on his patients. Nursing wasn’t the kind of job that allowed for idle minds. Anything could happen, he thought as he wondered why the hospital seemed so quiet. And what’s going on down there? A number of nurses, doctors, and even patients were clustered together at the end of the hall, chattering excitedly. He slowed down as he got closer. Maybe Victor had paid the hospital another visit…Someone was talking. It wasn’t Victor. The voice was familiar, smooth and haughty. His steps sludged to a stop as a memory trickled into his mind. Straining muscles and heaving lungs. Simulated sirens. A pair of iron wings blocking out fluorescent lights. No. He broke out in a cold sweat. I need to leave. And he turned, painfully slow, to run. His heart thundered in his ears. His muscles protested as he sprinted for the parking lot, for his motorcycle, and he knew he had never run more slowly in his life. He stumbled to a stop at his bike, almost flipping over it. He fumbled the keys out and barely managed to start it. He tore out of the lot, icy wind lashing at his cheeks. What’s happening? What do I do? Iron Angel was at his job. He refused to believe that it was a coincidence. She wasn’t the type to make PR visits. That was Celestino’s thing. She was there on business. She was there for Yuuri, and he could feel it. He should’ve seen this coming. Why hadn’t he prepared for this?! First, it was Celestino, so of course she would naturally follow. This was his fault. He should’ve quit the moment Celestino left the office that day. Why didn’t he? He had gotten complacent again. He was happy treating Victor, there was no other explanation. And that was more than complacent. That was cocky. That was stupid. He gripped the handlebars and pushed down a frustrated roar that threatened to burst out of him. Yuuri had no idea how to fix this. He didn’t know where he was going. He had to leave Spring Gate. There was a go-bag stashed in an alley by the dance studio. He’d get that and leave— camp out in a safe house outside of Detroit until he decided where he wanted to move. But he needed to warn Phichit first. He fumbled in his pocket for his comm link and switched it on. “Yello?” “Agni, I’ve been found out.” “What?” “I had a run-in with Iron Angel at Spring Gate General.”
What?!”
“You need to get out of dodge,” Yuuri said, shaking his head. He tried to stop the panicked tears from coming. He needed to see the road. “I’m sorry. This is my fault.” “Iron Angel… ok. Where are you right now?” “On my way to my go-bag. I’m leaving.” “Don’t do that. Go somewhere to regroup and then go home.” “Are you insane or did you not hear me correctly?!” Yuuri almost swerved out of his lane on the highway. “I can’t go back, there’s no way she’s not there to interrogate me! And you shouldn’t go back either!” “Look…” Phichit said, and Yuuri heard a strong whooshing sound. Phichit was on the move. “There isn’t a lot of time. And I know I haven’t given you sufficient enough reason to, but you need to trust me. I’m gonna wipe the footage of you from the hospital. They’ll find out the cameras were compromised, but that’s kind of the point…” “What are you…” Yuuri took an exit, surprised his sense of direction still worked at that moment. “We have contingency plans. But right now, we’re at plan “Z”. Plans A through Y are all shit because you’re facing Iron Angel and most likely Boss. If they really do suspect you, no form of deception is going to work. We’ve gotta play with the truth. Use it to our advantage. Where do you keep your— ah never mind, I remember. Now, normally you would go to Well Spring—” “The fake address we set up in case of emergencies.” “Right, but with Iron Angel’s investigative skills, she’s gonna know that’s a fake. If you go there and she comes to call—shit!” Something made a loud, clacking sound and Phichit swore again. “What?!” “Nothing. I’ve gotta make some calls. I’ll get back to you.” “W- I can’t—” “Don’t leave. They’ll find you. Go somewhere to regroup. Keep your head low.” “Phi—” The line died. Yuuri’s heart felt like it was vibrating. What does that mean? Somewhere to regroup. For Minako, that meant a safe house… but it seemed Phichit didn’t want him to go to a safe house right now. But then again, just the morning before, he was telling himself that he couldn’t really trust Phichit anymore. So why should he even listen? Why should he stay in the same place he was being hunted? Being on the run was far better than being a sitting duck, right? He jumped at his own reflection in the window of a tailor shop. And then again when the car behind him honked for sitting at the green light. He turned a corner to park in front of the shop. It was one that Derek Sharpe had a monopoly over before Minako killed him. Even in his panicked state, he was surprised it was still thriving. Yuuri tried to clear his head, but the memory of Derek reanimated the technicolor dream he had two nights ago: Minako dancing with Derek, spinning across the banquet hall like a lily pad before disappearing into thin air. And now she was in prison. If the world only knew what she was capable of, she would be on Ares Island with the likes of Pyre and Styx. She wasn’t evil. But neither was a snake, and both were born predators. Yuuri was only a three star thief, but… was it possible that he would be sent there? Only if I get caught. First things first. He needed to run. He turned the keys in his ignition and made to pull out. Something blocked him and he lurched forward in surprise. He looked up. Someone was behind him. Their reflections locked eyes in the shop’s window. Yuuri squinted. The fuck?! Am I being robbed?! For the person holding the back of his motorcycle in place was wearing all black, a hood and scarf obscuring everything except their eyes. And the strange part was the eyes… they seemed to glow… His tongue shriveled up in his mouth as he turned around. “Got a minute?” Victor asked. * Victor resisted the urge to turn the entire pub into an igloo—an impenetrable fortress of ice so that Yuuri wouldn’t even think about trying to escape. Unfortunately, that would only give him away, he thought. The scarf covering the lower half of his face was a flimsy disguise, but it would have to do for now. At least Yuuri was complying at the moment. He had followed Victor in without argument. And Victor was exploring a conjecture, a hunch. Yuuri was innocent until proven guilty in a court of law, even if he did confess to Victor. He still needed to hear from Yuuri before his parents got to him for their own little interview. He slid into the private booth and gestured for Yuuri to join him. Yuuri’s cheeks were flushed and Victor was trying to decide if it was from nerves or the cold. He noticed the neck of Yuuri’s scrubs peeking out from under his coat. “No work today, Yuuri?” Victor folded his hands on the table between them. “I… I left early,” he rasped and cleared his throat. “Are you ok?” “On the mend,” he said slowly and watched as Yuuri’s eyes flitted down. “Why did you leave work, Yuuri?” Yuuri didn’t answer but made a strange jerky movement when the waiter strolled up to their table to take their order. Without making eye contact—this wasn’t the time to be ambushed by fans—Victor ordered two beers. He waited for an answer that he was positive wouldn’t come and let the silence swell between them. When the waiter returned, he slid the drink to Yuuri who hesitated before taking a sip. Victor pursed his lips before taking a sip too. “Did you happen to see Iron Angel, Baker, and Boss at SG General before you darted out?” “I…” “Hmm?” “Yes,” he whispered and then cleared his throat again. “Yes.” “Did you get their autographs? I’m sure everyone else did.” Victor watched Yuuri in the dim overhanging light. He shifted undecidedly before moving to take off his parka and fold it in his lap. “I didn’t get their autographs,” he said. “Tell me why you left work, Yuuri. Was it because they were there?” “Yes.” “Hmm. Why would their presence make you want to leave?” “I was scared.” Victor took a deep breath through his nose before taking another sip over his scarf. “And what’s got you so frightened?” “I’m not sure.” Yuuri’s voice seemed stronger. Victor wasn’t much of an interrogator, but he’d been a hero since he was a teenager. No matter the brave face he was met with, he was always able to see the fear writhing just below the surface. “That actually sounds like the truth,” he said. He studied the rim of his glass, thinking about how he should continue. “I’m sorry but,” Yuuri said and Victor met his eyes again, “am I in trouble?” “Asks Trouble, himself,” he chuckled. Because whether Yuuri turned out to be Red Specter or not, he was undoubtedly trouble waiting to happen, a match at a gas station, a dragon in a saw mill. He felt it whenever he talked to Yuuri, whenever he even thought about him—the fire rising in him even when it was night when his flames should be sleeping. It was undoubtedly a warning, flashing red lights he had been ignoring or mistaking for fondness until now. Even soft memories of Yuuri checking on him in the middle of the night to see if he was sleeping, or of Victor checking Yuuri’s eyes with an otoscope burned in his mind. The fact that he was here interrogating Yuuri instead of scrambling to find more ways to pay back Red—a real life threat no matter who he was—was proof enough of Yuuri’s power over him. Victor was almost certain that Red would hit History Maker if Victor couldn’t satisfy him, and now he was wondering if it was Yuuri, the timid man sitting across from him, who would endanger the lives of his fellow heroes. It was the only form of retaliation that would make sense…“You’re trouble,” he said again to make sure Yuuri understood him, and he watched him try to hide a gulp. “I don’t mean to be,” he said. “That sounds like the truth too,” he said. “Yuuri?” “Yes?” “You know something very personal about me,” he said softly. Yuuri’s eyes widened a bit before darting down to the beer in front of him. “Not many people know that I’m afraid of doctors. I’m sure most of SG General have guessed as much by now, but that’s only half of the secret. They don’t know the whole truth.” “I… I don’t know the whole truth either, Winter Torch,” Yuuri said, matching Victor’s quiet tone and shaking his head slightly. “No… you don’t. That’s probably not fair to you either seeing as how I know your secret.” Yuuri shook his head again. “What secret?” “You told Boss,” he said carefully, deciding to rein himself in a bit, “that you worked as a doctor for the yakuza.” “...yes.” “How many people know that, Yuuri?” “Not… many.” “Any Spring Gate General staff?” “No.” “Your family?” “Yes.” “Your friends?” “I don’t have any friends.” “Phichit?” “I…” “What?” He made sure not to lose eye contact. “You two left school together, right? Does he know?” Yuuri tilted his head and Victor could almost see him throwing something to the wind, but he didn’t catch it before it disappeared. “Yes. He knows.” “Who else?” “That’s it.” “I see. That’s a pretty big secret.” He decided to let his curiosity wander. He was the one in control after all. “If you don’t mind me asking,” his voice dropped, barely dangling above a whisper, and Yuuri seemed unsure if it was ok for him to lean in, so Victor moved forward, resting his elbows on the table and perching his chin on the back of his hand, “how old were you when you first started?” Yuuri blinked long. Victor could tell he was trying to control his face. “Twelve.” “Twelve,” Victor breathed. “Yes.” “Does that make you angry?” “Yes.” “Really?” Victor hadn’t expected him to say yes—he was only baiting him. But this was interesting, as this was a part of Yuuri, and maybe even Red Specter, that he’d never seen before. “It pisses me off,” he said, struggling to keep quiet as if he was biting down on rage. “It’s not fair. It makes me so, so angry. And sad…and there’s absolutely nothing I can do about it.” “Not even revenge?” “There’s no taking revenge against Ikki Fujiwara without also signing your own death certificate.” “Ikki Fujiwara was your boss?” “Boss is a very liberal term, but yes.” “You don’t like him?” “It doesn’t matter what I think of him.” “But you obey him?” “Yes.” “No matter what.” “Yes.” “You’ll notice that the last question didn’t use the past tense, Yuuri.” He took a sip of his beer. Yuuri didn’t flinch, but Victor could still see the fear move in his face. “So I’m assuming you still answer to this boss of yours.” Yuuri closed his eyes. Victor waited. Yuuri shook his head again and covered his eyes with his palms as if trying to push them back into his skull. He wondered what was going through his head. Excuses, or more of the truth? And just how terrible was the truth that was hidden there? “I guess I’ll have to... if he ever calls,” he croaked from between his wrists. And that was something, wasn’t it? Because someone who was happily following the orders of their boss wouldn’t react that way, would they? If Yuuri was Red Specter and he wasn’t happy with Fujiwara, then he’d have some other motive for becoming what he was. “There are many ways to get the upper hand over someone like him, Yuuri,” Victor said and Yuuri kept his eyes hidden. “Espionage, sabotage, amassing an insane amount of power… or wealth… just to name a few. I imagine revenge is much easier than this.” “For who, exactly?” “Are you telling me you’ve never considered getting revenge on Fujiwara?” He lowered his palms onto the table. “Of course I’ve considered it, but—” “But what?” “I… I don’t know what you want me to say.” “Obviously the truth, if you’re willing. And the truth even if you’re not. You said you considered getting revenge on Fujiwara. How would you go about doing that?” “I don’t even know where to begin.” “I gave you some ideas. Let’s start with amassing wealth. Do you think that would help you?” “I don’t… I’m not rich, Winter Torch.” “I never said you were. I asked if you thought being wealthy would help you get revenge on Fujiwara.” “Well… I don’t know… I guess.” “And what does wealth mean to you?” “I don’t—” “I’ll rephrase that. To you, would it be more beneficial to have a lot of money, a lot of affluent connections, or a corner in the market of something rare and valuable?” Yuuri shook his head a small amount as if trying to stay awake. “I don’t think I’ve ever thought that far ahead… in terms of revenge. I don’t know what to tell you,” he stammered. “Even if the thought crossed my mind, I don’ think I could ever actually do anything.” “Hmmm,” he laughed quietly, “you’re much better than me, I see.” Yuuri looked up. Victor gave him a half smile but didn’t have the energy to keep it going. “Do you want to know the other half of my secret, Yuuri?” He didn’t say anything, but bit his bottom lip as if he was thinking about whether or not it was safe to answer. Victor drank his beer and frowned. It was already warm. He gripped the handle and a thin frost blossomed across the glass. That’s better, he thought and his eyes dropped to Yuuri’s who was staring intently at the newly chilled drink. Victor held out a hand and conjured a delicate snowflake. It spun lazily, just an inch above his palm. “Water and ice by night,” he explained and then let his creation evaporate in a puff of steam, “sparks and flames by light. Ever since I was twelve.” “Twelve…?” Victor nodded. “Yes. The same age you started your medical practice.” He polished off his drink. “Before that, it was ice. All around the clock. Just ice. No snow, fire, rain… nothing.” “So… you developed them late?” “I’m not sure if late is the word,” his voice breaking a little at the end. He gritted his teeth to steel himself. He instigated this, so he had to put on a straight face and suck it up. “Especially since it was tortured out of me.” “I-I’m sorry.” “For what? When I was twelve years old, I was kidnapped and taken to a doctor named Kazuya. He’s the one who stuffed me in a cryogenic freezer half my size to test power evolution. He’s the one who starved me for weeks, injected me with substances that made my skin burn, and documented my screams like pointless data. That was him, not you. What happened to me had nothing to do with you, did it?” “Of—of course not,” Yuuri squeaked and he seemed to be thinking, “Kazuya’s… Kazuya’s the one who died...” “He’s not dead.” “Fujiwara shot him in my kitchen. I watched him die.” “You watched him bleed out, Yuuri. And what were you doing that you were even able to see that happen?” “I…” he took a rattling breath and hurried to wipe a tear away. “Chores.” “Mmm.” “I was… I was feeding the dog… home for summer break…” That struck Victor in the chest like an arrow making the gaping space there even bigger than it was before. “You were twelve…” “Yes.” “That was the same day Fujiwara made you a doctor.” “Yes.” “Did he make you a doctor or Kazuya’s replacement, Yuuri?” “How could I have been his replacement?” “It was an A or B question.”
“I wasn’t his replacement!”
“Well, what a relief.” He tapped his glass without humor. “Hero-making business is dirty work after all… I should know. He went through all that trouble to make me and yet…the other half of my secret, Yuuri, is that the same person who gave me a fear of doctors is the same person who gave me the power to put him in the ground, if I so choose. And trust me, I do. It’s only a matter of time. So forgive me for saying that when it comes to anyone else besides the doctor Kazuya, I don’t care to waste my time running in circles—chasing liars, guessing at intentions. I typically only give people one chance to tell me the truth.” Yuuri looked at him then back at the table. He wasn’t bothering to cover up the fear splitting on his face now. “I-I don’t know—” Victor’s lip curled into a smile. He wasn’t sure when it was that he became incapable of grimacing even when he had run out of patience. He thought it must’ve been an ugly thing to see. “One chance, Yuuri. One. Do you have any secrets to tell me?” “I know who you are,” he whispered. It rang in Victor’s ears. He couldn’t speak. “I’m sorry.” Tears streamed down his red cheeks. “I’m so sorry.” For the first time since they’d entered the pub, Victor had nothing to say. He could only sit and watch Yuuri as if from the other end of a tunnel. He could vaguely hear the idle chatter floating above other booths. The clink of glasses. Pints sliding across wood. The soles of boots on a greasy floor. He felt like a drop in a pond and he had nothing to say. Was he sinking? He must’ve been because Yuuri’s red face, botched with pain and grief, was pulling him back out of whatever hole he was falling in, whatever haze was taking over. Everything about Yuuri’s face was so pitiful that it gutted Victor, but somehow, this picture of torture was the thing that had pulled him back to his senses; this Cassius Coolidge painting of a man who looked as if he hadn’t slept in days, wind beaten with tousled black locks and feverish cheeks. There was nothing humorous or whimsical about the image though. But, the feeling of isolation, of a small cramped space, was there. The light from the dusty lamp illuminated Yuuri like a spotlight. His eyes were red. The tears fell like raindrops onto the sticky table. He didn’t bother to wipe them. It looked as if the effort might take him out. If Victor were on the outside looking in, he would’ve guessed that Yuuri had just lost the last thread of whatever was keeping him tethered to this world. He looked as if he had given up. I’m sorry. He kept repeating it over silent sobs. I’m so sorry. “How…” “I… I heard Boss say your name. At the hospital. I’m sorry.” “Who did you tell.” “No one. I would… I would never… I won’t… I’m sorry.” “It’s ok.” “I should never have known—” “It’s not your fault—” “I’m so sorry—” “You—you only overheard it…” “I can’t even take it back— I can’t fix—” “There’s no real harm in—” “I’m so sorry, I’m sorry—” “Yuuri,” Victor sighed. He felt lost. Close to heartbroken. What had he done? “Are you finished with your drink?” “Wh—I…” he blubbered and looked at his half-finished glass as if it had just magically appeared before him. “I don’t need it.” “Alright,” he stood up, “let’s go. I’ll walk you to your motorcycle.” “What?” “Put your jacket on. We’re done.” Yuuri took a great heaving breath as if to steady himself, but it was just more tears as he stood up and fumbled the parka back on. “I’m so sorry…” Victor pulled out his wallet and laid out a twenty for the drinks before following Yuuri back out into the cold for the parking lot. When they reached his bike, Yuuri looked over his shoulder as if asking permission to get on. Victor nodded awkwardly. Yuuri climbed on. His shoulders shook slightly as if he were still swallowing his tears. “I didn’t mean to know…” “Yuuri, honestly. Don’t worry about it. And don’t tell anyone.” “It’s not fair that I know. It’s just something else that isn’t fair…” “It’s just a name, Yuuri,” he said. His hand acted of its own accord and covered Yuuri’s on his handlebar. He felt betrayed by his own body. “It’s just a name. I trust you with my name.” Yuuri sniffed. He pulled his hand away from Victor’s and shook his head. “I’m not who you think I am,” he whispered. “Not at all. I can’t even try to be. Ever since I was twelve… I’m just not that person.” Victor swallowed. Did that mean he wasn’t Red Specter or…? It was impossible to define when he was trying so hard not to identify with that declaration. He answered before he could even think better of it, “That makes two of us.” “I keep saying I’m sorry… I don’t know what else to do.” “For starters… go home. Boss, Baker, and Iron Angel are looking for you. Answer their questions.” “I…” he looked down. Victor wondered if he would run. That wasn’t his problem unless Yakov told him in no uncertain terms that it was his problem. He’d asked his questions. Too many, it seemed. Whether Yuuri was Red or not, he clearly had a past that haunted him the way Victor’s haunted him. He had scars. Victor had ripped those scars open over a gut feeling. He could never be proud of that, no matter what the end result was. In his mind’s eye, he tried to fit Red Specter’s mask over Yuuri’s, tried to imagine tears streaming down black fabric. “Yuuri,” he asked, “how many languages do you know?” “What?” Victor waited. Yuuri licked his lips and answered, “Japanese is my first language, then Mandarin, and English.” “Mandarin…?” “Fujiwara wanted it.” “I see.” No sign language then…? He hadn’t been direct, but enough was enough. He had to let it go. If he was going to live with himself after this, he had to let it go...“Drive safely,” he said. He watched Yuuri pull off, drive into the night. * It was very clear that panic had made Yuuri foolish. He realized it when Victor began questioning him. He couldn’t run. The moment he had even thought about running, Victor had appeared, almost out of thin air. He couldn’t lie. He barely made it out of Victor’s line of fire by giving him a sliver of truth, but all those times that he had nearly slipped! Victor hadn’t been direct, but he was still very clear. Victor thought Yuuri was Red Specter. What does wealth mean to you? What other explanation was there for that line of questioning? He thought about how his stomach felt sour whenever he tried to think of a good lie to tell Victor. Looking into Victor’s eyes, into white fire that was blank as snow but still somehow burning with accusation, was painful. It could’ve just been him… maybe Yuuri was mentally weak after years of being under Fujiwara’s thumb. He was far past panic and sorrow at this point, but the tears kept falling like he was an overflowing dam in the winter wind. It hardly mattered what happened to him at this point, he thought as he pulled into his apartment’s parking garage. He had done everything he could. Ever since he was a kid. He had tried his best. Whatever happened after this was fated to happen. He pulled out his phone to check the time and saw that he had missed several calls from Phichit. He dialed back.
“Yuuri! What on Earth—”
“I got caught up,” he said, “his voice sounding strange. “Sorry.” “Are you still in Spring Gate?!” “Yeah.” “Thank God. Listen. Go back home. They’ll know Well Spring is a ruse so if you go there, you’ll just seem less trustworthy. Go home. Wait for them. Answer their questions. You fled today because you were scared they would link you to Fujiwara. You dropped out of school and became his doctor in order to make up for your parents debt to them. I helped you do that. It’s been years but—” “I think I get the picture,” he rasped. “The truth. A big chunk of it. It’ll be enough.” “Phi…” he pinched his eyes closed. “Agni. Your appointment tonight… he knows that I know who he is.” “Ahh…” he groaned. “Is this… is this what you wanted?” “Yuuri, I don’t want any of this, are you kidding me?!” Phichit sucked his teeth and there was more whooshing. “This is complete shit and it’s raising my blood pressure. Do you know how difficult it is to give a speedster hypertension? It doesn’t help that plan Z is flimsy and is getting worse by the minute. I’m adding some subparts to it now because I suspect you-know-who must suspect you of being…” “Yeah.” “Yuuri…” Phichit had abandoned all caution it seemed, using Yuuri’s real name over the comm, “you’re smart. Whatever happens tonight, keep a cool head, and follow along. Alright? I want you to trust me… better yet… trust yourself.” “Oh yeah, will do,” he jeered and threw his head back to keep the tears in place. “If there was ever a time to rely on your instincts, it’s now, Yuuri.” “Phichit… plan Z means…” “This isn’t goodbye for us. Not yet.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
It was as if Yuuri’s dreams were trying to teach him a lesson. Like the night when Minako escaped Derek Sharpe, tonight was not the night to run, Yuuri decided. Running would make him an easy target. He needed to stay put and try his best to act natural, hide in the shadowy grey area of half-truths. That must’ve been what Phichit wanted. Even though Yuuri still had his suspicions, he agreed with his friend about that much. So he went home. He didn’t have to wait for Iron Angel, Boss, and Baker to arrive at his apartment. They were waiting for him at his door. Iron Angel hadn’t aged a day. She was stern and poised, wrapped in a royal blue muffler and matching parka. He almost felt like a teenager again. He was rooted to the spot with anxiety, much like he often was when he was at the Grand Prix. They all turned their heads to him when he rounded the corner. Iron Angel’s face didn’t change. Boss frowned. Baker smiled. “You’re a difficult man to come by, Mr. Katsuki,” Iron Angel said. Yuuri remembered rumors from school that her name was actually Lilia, and Phichit recently revealed that Boss was Yakov… “Why are you just standing there? Let us in! We’ve been waiting for ages.” “Ah-” he shook his head because now was definitely not the time to be drowning in his thoughts. “Sorry,” he said lamely, and rushed to unlock the door. “Seven years,” Lilia drawled as they all piled into his and Phichit’s cramped apartment. “Seven long and silent years, and now here you are. What do you have to say for yourself?” Yuuri nervously held out his hands when Lilia took off her scarf and coat. “I… I’ve had a rough time.” “That much we know, Yuuri,” Celestino said kindly, handing over his coat too. Yakov was still frowning, but he also handed over his winter things for Yuuri to stuff in the overflowing coat closet. “Are you alright? Your eyes are red…” “Oh...I… yeah, I’m ok,” Yuuri mumbled as he rubbed his eyes with his sleeve. “225 Well Spring Drive. What does that mean to you,” Yakov demanded. “I… ah. It’s a fake address, sir.” He felt cold. It was starting. “Now, just a minute,” Celestino said holding his hands up, “there’s no fire here so… why don’t we all sit down? Is that alright, Yuuri?” “Y-yes, of course,” he stammered and they headed into the sitting area. But there was only one couch. Yakov held his hand out to the couch, commanding Yuuri to sit. Celestino perched himself on the sofa’s arm, Yakov leaned against the sliding glass door with his arms folded on his chest and Lilia stood in front of Yuuri, hands on hips. “Now,” Celestino said, “this is better.” Yuuri couldn’t agree less. “Yuuri… I’m sure you remember Lilia and me from the Grand Prix, and Boss,” he turned to Yakov who grunted. “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “Boss is known as Yakov. I think it’s only fair that you know our names at this point,” he said, and again, Yuuri didn’t agree. “We have some questions for you because it seems you’ve gained Winter Torch’s trust as of late. A very difficult and impressive feat considering… the circumstances.” “In spite of the circumstances,” Yakov snapped. “But the fact of the matter is that, if you’re going to continue as Winter’s private physician, we need to be sure of your trustworthiness,” Lilia said. “As of now, it’s shoddy.” “So we want to clear the air,” Celestino added in quickly. “Why did you drop out of school,” Yakov demanded without preamble. Yuuri took a deep breath. “Before I was born,” he began, “my parents cut ties with the yakuza to protect my sister and me. They paid a man named Ikki Fujiwara protection money from their onsen business to keep him appeased instead.” Just that was enough to knock the wind out of him. But they were waiting for him to finish. “That wasn’t enough though. When Fujiwara murdered his main physician, he appointed me in his stead. My services were keeping my family alive after Fujiwara bled our onsen dry.” “Who was his main physician? The one he murdered, I mean,” Celestino asked. “A man named Kazuya. I never knew his family name.” “How do you know he was murdered?” Lilia asked. “I watched it happen.” “Why was he murdered?” she asked. “Because he gave Fujiwara an answer he didn’t like.” “Which was what, exactly?” Yakov asked. “Fujiwara asked him for a prognosis on one of his men and he didn’t like what he heard so…” “How old were you when this happened?” Lilia asked. “Twelve.” “Twelve?! That’s terrible,” Celestino gasped. “It happens,” Yakov said and Celestino shot him a dirty look that he didn’t back down from. “Terrible things happen. Even to twelve year olds.” Yuuri thought about what Victor had confided in him about being kidnapped and tested on. “Aside from fulfilling a debt, why did Fujiwara make you his physician?” Lilia inquired, “I’m sure there were far more qualified individuals to choose from.” “There weren’t…” he hesitated, “not where I lived.” “In Hasetsu,” Lilia said. “Yes...and I’d been studying medicine since I was in elementary school. Theories and practices. My uncle was a brain surgeon. He made me want to be a doctor and he used to take me to work with him before he was killed.” “He was killed by Fujiwara too?” Celestino asked. “He was just a bystander…” “Interested in medicine doesn’t equate to qualified professional,” Yakov said dryly. “Again, we ask, why you?” “It was a punishment. He didn’t expect me to be able to save his subordinate’s life. He thought the guy would die so he was ticked off. He shot the man who gave him the bad news and lashed out at the family who disrespected him by trying to leave his syndicate. He wanted me to fail… so he could kill me in front of my parents. He wanted them to suffer. Because he was mad. The year after that, he made it official. He made sure to let all of his men know to come to me if they got hurt and to report to him if I messed up.” “Why did you drop out of school?” Yakov asked coldly. Celestino looked scandalized as he had sat silently while Yuuri recounted this ordeal, clearly affected. Even Lilia gave him a reproachful glance before regaining her composure. “I—I’m sorry?” “You dropped out of school seven years after all this happened. A few years shy of graduation. Why?” “Because I couldn’t focus on my Grand Prix responsibilities while I was trying to cram four years of medical school into my brain within an unknown time constraint. He kept coming back to my house with people to patch up. Like I said, if I messed up, he would kill me or one of my family members. I… I had to focus so I could still be useful to him.” “How long were you…in his service,” Lilia asked. “Twelve years.” “What happened on that twelfth year?” “He told me… he told me he didn’t need me anymore,” Yuuri’s mouth felt like paper. It was true. Those were Fujiwara’s exact words. He remembered the day quite vividly. It was the last time he’d seen Fujiwara in person. He’d hoped he’d never see his face again. “So I left Hasetsu.” “Why didn’t he need you anymore?” Yakov asked. “I...I don’t know,” he admitted. He actually never thought about it. The whole truth was that he’d made a deal with Fujiwara. He would steal for Fujiwara instead of being his doctor. There was less risk in that. It was easy to mess up being a doctor when he had no formal training. The human body was fickle too. There was too much left to chance. Stealing was better… but Fujiwara agreed because he, Yuuri, was no longer needed as a doctor. Yakov clucked his tongue. “Not important enough to be privy to staff changes, huh?” “No,” Yuuri said flatly, knowing full well it was rhetorical but not caring. “What did your duties as a doctor include, Yuuri?” Celestino asked softly. “Anything he asked me to do. Mostly stitches, bullet extraction, blood transfusions… there was one heart transplant.” “Anything else?” Celestino asked. “Like?” “We’re asking you questions, Katsuki,” Yakov said nastily. “I’ll repeat Baker’s question. Anything else other than the tasks you mentioned in your previous answer?” “Um…” Yuuri felt wounded by Yakov’s harshness and it seemed the other two were a bit offended as well. Then it hit him. They didn’t suspect him of being Red Specter. That was just Victor. That’s not why they were here. They were here… for Victor’s sake. That explained the line of questioning. They needed to know about Kazuya, the man who had created the formidable yet vulnerable monster Victor introduced Yuuri to at the pub. He closed his eyes trying to think of something, anything that could help… but it was so long ago, and he’d done everything in his power to forget. “I… I answered some questions.” “Alright,” Yakov snarled, “There’s an answer. Now, listen well, because we won’t be repeating ourselves again. What questions did you answer?” “Uh… they were weird… difficult questions. I didn’t know if there was a right answer to them… I was afraid he would kill me if I was somehow wrong. Stuff about stem cells and DNA.” “Can you recall anything specific?” Celestino asked hopefully. “He… asked my opinion on whether DNA can be… augmented without damaging it.” “What did he mean by that?” Lilia asked. “I’m not sure. At the time, I assumed he meant like… improved. For instance, can we change a person’s existing DNA to make them… faster or smarter?” “Or stronger,” Lilia murmured. “Yeah,” he sighed, glad she understood. “I wasn’t sure. I told him that genetic mutations may make that possible down an ancestral line.” He felt as if a hole was burning into his chest with the force of all three of their stares. “I just made that up though. I wasn’t actually sure.” “Answering questions…” Yakov said as if starting a list, “is there anything else that was expected of you as his doctor?” “No. That was it.” “Where did you go after you left Hasetsu?” Lilia asked. “Spring Gate.” “Why Spring Ga—” “A moment, if you will, Lilia?” Yakov held up his hand. She gave him a curt nod. “Phichit Chulanont. Where does he fit into this mess of a story?” “Uh… I’m not sure I know what you mean,” Yuuri lied, feeling his neck grow hot, and just then the front door opened. Everyone turned to see who it was, and Yuuri, blood flooding his ears, prayed to all the gods he knew that Phichit wasn’t that stupid. But it wasn’t Phichit. It was a ginger lumberjack. A tall, burly, bearded man with a heavily freckled face and a stylish scar striking his right eyebrow barely missed the door frame as he casually walked in and locked the door back, nose buried in his phone. He was wearing what looked like several layers of coats and scarves, ratty gloves and muddy boots which he toed off at the door. He tossed his keys into the kitchen and they skidded on the table there. Walking across the kitchen in the direction of Phichit’s room, he only glanced up once before looking back at his phone. “‘Sup, man?” he greeted. Yuuri’s heart pounded in his ears before a voice in the back of his head, Phichit’s voice, screamed “Follow along!” Yuuri waved halfheartedly at Plan Z. “Kirk,” he nodded, and Kirk continued to slowly shuffle for Phichit’s room before he stopped and looked up. He dropped his phone. “Oh… oh my god!” His mouth fell open and he grabbed his hair in well-practiced shock. “Iron Angel?! OH MY GOD!” He laughed and scrambled to pick up his phone. “Can I… can I please… I’m a huge fan…” “Picture?” Lilia asked stiffly, but still beckoned him to come closer. He squeaked excitedly and scrambled over to stand next to her. He held up his phone for a selfie. Yuuri looked down at his lap. He couldn’t watch. He didn’t trust his face. “Kirk” handed Yuuri his phone. “You mind…?” he asked, pointing at him and Lilia. “Sure,” Yuuri said and stood up to take the photo. His hands shook. He handed it back to Kirk and he grinned at the picture. “Thank you so much,” he said as he shook Lilia’s hand. “This is insane. I don’t even…” he trailed off when Yakov cleared his throat. “OH MY HOLY SHIT!” He dropped his phone again and then turned around to look at Yuuri in disbelief, and then almost fell on his ass when he noticed Celestino on the corner of the couch. “You—and—Baker too—oh shit,” he picked up his phone again. It took ten more minutes before Kirk had all the pictures he wanted, including autographs on his phone case from all three of the heroes. He looked as shocked and pleased as a man in a Hallmark movie who just found out he was going to be a father. “What is going on?” He asked breathlessly. “A hero’s work is never done, even after they’ve retired,” Celestino beamed, carefully covering the situation up. “Is… is Yuuri… Yuuri, you’re not a hero too, are you?” “No, Kirk,” Yuuri said, deflated. “I’m not.” He chuckled, “Well, just in case,” he knelt down next to Yuuri to get a selfie with him, tongue out and devil horns. He looked at the result and smirked. “You never smile in pictures.” “Kirk,” Celestino said stepping up and taking out his wallet. “We’ve got many, many, many things to do while the night is still young and we’re behind schedule. Do you mind picking up our party platters at Quiznos? I know this is terrible, but we’re supposed to be feeding all the rookie heroes tonight and we’re not quite done here. They close soon… here’s the order number and the money,” he said, handing it all over to Kirk who ogled the tokens of his new quest. Yuuri wondered if he’d actually go to Quiznos or spend it all on booze. He’d have to play nice if he was going to make good on the favor he owed Phichit though. Either way, Yuuri guessed it didn’t really matter, because it was clear Celestino was politely trying to get rid of him. The party platters might have been fake. “It would be an honor,” Kirk said and turned to Yuuri, “Do you want anything? This guy’s buying,” he joked and Celestino laughed good-naturedly. “But no, you can trust me. I’m all over this.” He jogged into the kitchen to snatch up his keys, stuffed himself into his boots and left. The silence that followed made Yuuri sick. “He seems nice,” Celestino said. Yakov hummed and tapped his bicep with his finger. “You don’t look too happy to see him, Yuuri. Why is that?” “Just the circumstances,” he mumbled. “We get along fine.” “It isn’t because you were expecting someone else?” “Of course not. He’s my roommate,” Yuuri said and tried to meet Yakov’s eyes but he didn’t have the strength that came to his aid when he first met Yakov. He was spent. “That brings us back to before we were interrupted,” Lilia said as she primly cleared her throat. Yuuri was glad for it. Lilia was tough, but she wasn’t quite as intimidating as Yakov. “Phichit was your roommate at the Grand Prix and he left at the same time you did. There was no record of either of you ever having been there after you both disappeared. Tell us what happened there.” Yuuri took another deep breath and tried to recover from the change of pace Kirk had created. He needed to be even more careful now that Phichit was being discussed. His friend had given him something to work with by way of “Kirk”: they were never roommates after the Grand Prix. They had not seen each other in seven years… “Phichit…” he said, “is my best friend.” He was aware he didn’t use the past tense. They were too but he didn’t care. “I told him what was happening at home with Fujiwara and he wanted to help. He erased my records because, at the time, I was afraid that if I ever got the opportunity to leave Hasetsu, he would use that information to find me somehow. Phichit erased his own information and left the Grand Prix because he was tired of school and he thought it’d be fun.” “When’s the last time you saw him?” Yakov asked. “About six or seven years ago.” “When you dropped out.” “Yes.” “If he’s your best friend, why haven’t you seen him in so long?” “I don’t know where he is.” “You haven’t asked?” “I have. Every time we talk on the phone. The answer is always different.” “What’s he doing?” “Travelling, I believe.” “Your footage was erased from the Spring Gate General Hospital, today, Yuuri,” Celestino informed him apprehensively. “We checked. Why is that? And who did that?” “I…” he sighed, “I saw you three and got scared. So I ran and…” what was the right answer here? A good bit of the truth, but how much of it? He gulped, “asked Phichit to clear the cameras for me because I didn’t want to be found. I thought you’d connect me with Fujiwara.” “225 Well Spring Drive,” Yakov rattled off. “It’s a decoy house. I use it as a billing address in case Fujiwara ever looks me up. In case he ever needs me again.” “Why did you choose Spring—I’m sorry, am I allowed to ask this now,” Lilia asked Yakov snidely who sighed. “Why did you choose to come to Spring Gate Yuuri?” “Because it’s a storm,” he murmured. I figured hiding in the eye of the storm would protect me. If Fujiwara wants me, he’ll have to brave a swirling pit of chaos to get me. It wouldn’t be worth the risk for him.” “Yuuri, do you remember any speedsters working for Fujiwara while you were in Hasetsu?” Celestino asked and plopped back down on the sofa arm. “Pardon?” he was confused but scrambled for his senses when he saw the look Yakov gave him. “I mean… I don’t know if I can answer that truthfully. I was never really… aware… of his underling’s powers.” “No memories at all?” Lilia asked, eyebrows creasing with just the slightest bit of worry. “As far as I know, they were mostly just normal thugs. There might’ve been some abilities I didn’t know about… I know one guy has cement like powers. There’s a man who...could cut people by looking at them? That’s all I know.” “Did Kazuya have abilities?” Lilia asked. “I never knew him. The first time I met him was the same day he died.” “Does Fujiwara have abilities?” “Yes.” “And what are they?” Yakov asked. “He...” He cleared his throat, “uh…” He felt like he was sinking. Had he talked about Fujiwara’s before? Surely he—but he couldn’t recall. In fact, the answer came to Yuuri’s lips before his brain even approved of it. Fujiwara has powers…? Yes, that sounded right but....The floor beneath him was sliding several levels below the heroes around him, delivering him to a bottomless pit. “He can…” They grew taller around him, stretched out as if being slowly sucked in by a black hole. Why did he know Fujiwara had powers? He’d never seen proof… had he? “Mm.” He took a breath and it was shallow, like there was a foot on his throat. “Yuuri?” He wasn’t sure who said his name. He opened his mouth again. This shouldn’t be so hard. “He… he…” “Yuuri, you’re shaking…” Tears stung his eyes. “What the hell is wrong with him?!” He tried for another breath. “Why are you asking me, Yakov?! I assure you I don’t know!” I’m fine, Yuuri wanted to say, but even that wouldn’t come out. He tried to say he again, but it came out like a choked sob as the image of a man leaving his parent’s house in the dead of night swam to the forefront of his mind like a monster finally released from its cage. It was his back, disappearing behind the kitchen door. Yuuri woke up because he heard the floors creaking… he thought Vicchan had snuck into the dango. But it was a man who’d made the sound. And he was leaving. His head was bowed. He didn’t know at the time. That was Fujiwara. Fujiwara never had Mari attacked. He did it himself. In the dead of the night. Yuuri thought it was his puppy stealing dango. “I suspect he’s over a hundred years old by now,” Yuuri managed and his chest caved in. He dug his palms into his eyes for the second time that night to keep himself together. He heard hurried footsteps and then there was a gentle tap on his arm. “Yuuri, here.” It was Celestino. He glanced down. It was a paper towel. He took it and wiped his nose but kept his eyes covered. Tears cascaded down his wrists and wet his arms. “What’s that even supposed to mean,” he heard Yakov mutter. “Honestly, Yakov!” Lilia tsked.
“What?!”
“You’re insufferable!”
“Yuuri, whenever you’re ready… take your time,” Celestino murmured. “I’m fine,” Yuuri said, his voice sounding pathetic and throaty. “Really.” “If you’re sure,” Yakov said and he heard someone huff. “We think one of his subordinates was a speedster. For some inexplicable reason, the only speedster we can find in the world right now, is your best friend.” “Ok.” “And you said you don’t know where Phichit is right now?” “If you’re implying that Phichit worked for Fujiwara,” Yuuri said growing hot with anger, “he hadn’t even heard of Fujiwara until he met me. He has nothing to do with this.” “How can you be sure?” Yakov inquired, draining every last drop of will out of Yuuri. “You said yourself you weren’t sure what abilities Fujiwara’s subordinates have. You also said you weren’t important enough to be privy to staff changes.” “Because,” Yuuri snapped, raising his head to meet Yakov’s grey eyes, “Fujiwara wouldn’t have let the opportunity to rub it in my face that he had another child slave on staff slip by him. Not when he had twelve years to do it. He’d remind me. Introduce him to me. Pit us against each other until one of us got killed.” “Yakov,” Lilia said and she actually sounded soft this time, hurt. “He would’ve been a child if he was the one…” “And if that’s the case, it’s not likely…” Celestino said, scratching his head. “The job was too important after all,” Lilia said. Yakov frowned but seemed to let out a bit of the air that had him so puffed up. “Fine,” he said. “That’s… that’s all the questions I have, Katsuki. For now. Celestino,” he turned to him. “I’m good too,” he said. He cocked an eyebrow at Lilia who stiffened her shoulders. “That’ll do for me.” “That’s that, then” Yakov barked and rocked on his heels. Was it really over? He felt like roadkill—mowed over by his rampaging emotions. He didn’t know if he could move from his spot once they all left. “Right. We’ll check the apartment, run a background check, and then, we’ll be in contact for a follow up interview.” Yuuri’s heart stopped. “You’re checking the apartment,” he heard himself ask. “Winter Torch wishes to be treated by you and only you so it’s of the utmost importance that we are thorough when appointing you,” Lilia sniffed as she swept out of the sitting area for the kitchen. Celestino hopped up and rubbed his hands together. He nodded apologetically as he explained, “It’s invasive, I know, but it’s actually standard for all History Maker staff members and even newly appointed heroes.” “You can wait here,” Yakov grunted and looked at Lilia awkwardly. He reached in his pocket, procured a tissue and handed it to Yuuri who barely registered himself taking it. “You’re still crying, he said,” and left for Yuuri’s bedroom.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Agni called Victor at eleven. He gave him the address for the meetup and hung up. Victor, wearing a hood and scarf again, called a cab. It didn’t matter if Yuuri was Red or not. It didn’t matter who Red was at all, at the moment, because the most important thing to remember was that he was very real and very dangerous. Victor was almost certain that Red Specter would attack History Maker if he, Victor, could not make an offer that would satisfy him. And how could Victor satisfy him? It was impossible, even if he had procured a rubber stamp of a form of payment in the nick of time. He drummed his fingers on the package on his lap containing his old super suit. Billy, the resident super suit technician, was eccentric but incredibly skilled. He wasted no time when Victor asked him for the costume of his teen years. Half of Victor wished that Red would approve of this offering and just leave him and History Maker alone, but the other more realistic half knew that there wasn’t a chance in hell of that happening. It didn’t matter that it was expertly made with genuine Pandora’s iron. It didn’t matter that it was nano-tech, something that was impossible to acquire on the black market. Red wouldn’t take it. Victor would just present the suit to Agni, and then wait for the rejection that he figured would inevitably come so that he could book it back to headquarters. He rested his head on the glass, watched the buildings pass behind the curtain of delicate snow fall. The cab slowed at a light at the corner of a museum and a library. Victor breathed onto the window to make a patch of condensation. When the frost cleared, it revealed an empty, dark street. All except one figure. A sliver of darkness slipping into an alley behind the museum… It couldn’t be. Victor just... had Red Specter on his mind, that was all. The cab pulled forward but Victor sat up. It could’ve just been the street lamps playing tricks on him. But then something else moved suddenly behind the dumpster there and Victor wrenched the taxi door open, flying into the night. He heard the driver call after him, but couldn’t hear what he said over the sound of the blood in his ears. He skidded to a stop in the alley entrance, his side burning, and swept his hands out in front of him, summoning a tidal wave. He pushed it in front of him, and he could feel the contents of its waters. A dumpster. Something large and round—must be trash bags. Several living little things. And then a person. But then the person was gone as quickly as Victor had felt them. He looked up, saw him: Red dangling from the top of the library, dripping wet and suspended by a grappling hook. Victor sent the wave up after him to trap him. But Red rose just a second faster than Victor, escaping over the rooftops. He sucked his teeth and tossed the wave up over the building—it looked like a great leaping hell-beast—because the only thing Victor could hope to do in this state was knock Red unconscious with the force of it. Out of spite. His aching side was reminding him that he was in no position to propel himself over a building for a high speed chase. He cursed as he limped back to the cab which was surprisingly still waiting for him. He got in. “Do I even want to ask?” The driver eyed him apprehensively in the rearview mirror. “I’m a bounty hunter,” he said lamely, “and no, you probably shouldn’t ask.” “I see.” Victor weighed his options. Because Red was right there. If he could’ve just caught him, he wouldn’t even need to go to this meeting. And it was likely that Red was still closeby. Where was he even going? Was he really meeting Victor with Agni this time? No, he wouldn’t take the same route Victor was going. But then again, there was no logical reason why Red should know the route Victor told the taxi driver to take. It was ridiculous to think about. A moot point. Because the fact remained that he couldn’t go after Red even if he wanted to unless he wanted to bleed out in the street. At eleven forty-five, the driver stopped about half a block away from Victor’s destination because the road had disappeared, giving way to a grassy field. He told Victor to keep walking straight and he’d find it—an old barn—and wished him luck on the bounty hunting. Before he could pull off, Victor offered him extra money to wait for him to come back. The fare was running him dry, but it couldn’t be helped. He almost expected the driver to refuse him because he looked so nervous, but he gave him a curt nod and reclined his seat. The walk to the barn was short, and it was like its very essence had merged with the dark forest behind it. It was dilapidated and almost completely reclaimed by nature with vines and moss growing out of its windows and snaking around wooden slats. Victor walked in, package under his arm and waited. He was only a few minutes early. As he reached into his pocket to check the time on his phone, a soft breeze greeted him. “Do you think that when the prodigal son returned, he was as punctual as you are right now?” Agni asked silkily by way of greeting. He was wearing an all black suit this time, an inky backdrop to the bright picture of his vibrant mask. Victor tried to control his agitation. “Where is he?” “Waiting at home for you,” Agni returned smoothly. “Is he so shy that he can’t talk to me face to face?” “Afraid so. And it doesn’t help that you’re so terrifying.” “He’s not scared of me,” he shook his head. “I’d argue he’s scared of most things, himself included. “But you’re not afraid of me?” “Absolutely not, boy scout. What have you got for me?” Victor considered this, the idea that Agni wasn’t afraid of Victor… he had such an easy, and even playful personality for someone who had connections with who Victor could only assume were some of the most dangerous people in the underworld. And he willingly initiated several meetings alone with Victor, the world’s top hero without even seeming uneasy. He wondered what kind of person Agni really was, but his anger and impatience at the current situation overpowered his curiosity. He walked forward and held the package out in front of him. Agni took it in his hands and opened the lid. He whistled. “And what have we here?” “It’s a super suit,” Victor said. “Pandora’s iron. Nano-tech. And the mesh has upgradeable features.” In any other moment, Victor would be able to appreciate the nostalgia of seeing the old suit again. It was designed to be much more revealing than his current suit with stretches of mesh across the chest and around the hips and crystals lining the stitches in a delicate cascading pattern. Yakov and Lilia were close to forbidding Victor from wearing it—the first time Billy’s job was ever in jeopardy and the first time in a long time that Yakov and Lilia actually were on the same side—but Victor threw a temper tantrum and eventually got his way. It also helped that Celestino was on his side. He almost hated to give it away, but if it meant protecting his organization, he’d give all his suits away in a heartbeat. “This is beyond lovely,” Agni murmured and handed the box to Victor so that he could properly admire it with both hands, which surprised him. Agni actually seemed interested. He lifted a sleeve and felt the fabric between his gloved fingers. “What do the crystals do?” “They’re just for show. Hero suits are made to put a target on our backs, after all.” “That might be a problem, but not one that can’t be easily remedied. It’s black...he should appreciate that. And, is this a mask?!” Agni lifted the prototype which Billy revealed to have developed for Victor years ago. It matched the suit with a crown of elegant crystals around the top. “It matches his style,” Victor explained. “Well, I like it!” Agni exclaimed as if he were shopping for a friend. “Where did you get this, or are you going to share your secret with me?” Was this actually going to work? Agni had responded far better than Victor expected. Maybe he didn’t have to worry after all. “It’s one of my old suits from when I first started out as a hero,” he provided. “I went through a lot of models back then.” Although Agni was wearing a mask, Victor could sense the shift. He had said something wrong. He could see it in the man’s brown eyes. Victor’s neck grew hot. “The technology is up to date,” Victor said, preparing for the worst. “Is it?” Victor nodded. He swallowed as Agni raised a hand to his ear, his comm link. “What do you think,” he asked in a low voice. So Red was listening? A second passed. And then several more. And all Victor could do was watch Agni silently in the dark of the barn…
Like hell.
He didn’t know what it was about these past few days that made him forget who he was, but he was not helpless. Without moving, he closed his eyes. He had asked Red Specter for help, and for that reason, he had been feeling vulnerable, weak. He’d been stabbed and shot, so he tricked himself into thinking he was powerless. But the world didn’t bestow names upon people who couldn’t bear its weight on their shoulders. And the world named him Winter Torch. The world told him he was a hero. And a hero he was. He saw the exits in his mind’s eye, all of them, down to the gaping holes in the ceiling. He willed ice to grow there, to seal them off. Ice crept along the edges of the barn and inward to where they waited at attention like tentacles of crystal. They were far enough out for Agni to not notice them, but close enough to strike if needed. Then the clock stopped when Agni turned back to him, half of his mask illuminated by a slice of opaline light pouring down from an iced hole in the ravaged roof. “Well?” “Is this your final offer, Winter Torch?” “I’m afraid it is.” “Hmm. Well, unfortunately,” he raised his hand for his comm link—it had to be—but it didn’t matter if he was wrong—and the ice struck from the dark at Agni’s hand, his scream piercing the night. Victor raised his fist in an uppercut and a long arm of ice lashed out, whipping at the ear where Agni’s comm link was. It made contact and Agni vanished. But he hadn’t really gone, because he could feel something—something strong wearing away at the ice blocking the back barn door. He whipped around and focused all the ice there, clenching his fists to fortify the shield there as it was rapidly wearing down, and then the pressure was gone again. He caught a glimpse of motion and hurled ice picks in that direction. They splattered like something liquid and froze over the door there. He wouldn’t let Agni escape. No. That wasn’t the right mindset. This wasn’t about Agni. This was about History Maker, he thought and realized he couldn’t feel any disturbances in the ice anymore. Agni was truly gone. He didn’t know how but it didn’t matter. His comm link was destroyed, but he could probably notify Red in seconds with his speed. He needed to get back. He needed to protect everyone, and he sprinted from the barn, his abs on fire, but he couldn’t be distracted by that. He ran straight past the cab, not caring about what the driver must’ve said, and thought about how he needed to fly. He needed to be there now. He screwed his eyes shut, grinding his feet into the pavement, his lungs working furiously, his mind searching for some hidden key to unlock the secret to getting there faster because he needed to do his job. Felix, Spotlight, 88, Axle, all of them. Their faces swam into his head as he ran. He needed to protect everyone! And then he was in the air, his body having dissolved away from his feet up, floating away like a puff of steam. But he wasn’t floating. He was ripping through the sky like lightning, tearing through clouds over the city. Spring Gate was a tangle of lights beneath him, and he barely understood what was happening, but he knew he was too high. He tried to go lower, get close enough to see History Maker, and he heard a crack of thunder in the distance. He spotted it, the glass headquarters, and he allowed himself to tumble from the sky, but regretted it. He had no idea what that ability was, and now it was gone, and he was far too high up, wind and snow lashing at him as he plummeted and he needed to think fast. He took a deep breath and on his exhale, his body was all liquid, splattering on the concrete and sending a sharp agony up his spine that he wouldn’t soon forget. His body reformed, but barely, he realized as he glanced down at his hands—gelatinous transparent appendages vaguely shaped like the body he knew. He would live. He pulled on his strength and stormed through the History Maker doors. He swivelled his head around for the threat he knew to be coming. The warm lights in the lobby were misleading in their friendliness. Something was coming. “W-Winter Torch?” Victor spun around. The receptionist stood shakily, her hazel eyes blown wide in fright. “What’s wrong? Should I call someone? Boss?” “No,” he said quickly and his voice sounded strange, like an underwater echo.. The receptionist jumped when she heard it so Victor shook his head. She hastily picked up the phone and began dialing. “No!” He said it louder this time and she seemed to understand. She lowered the receiver and bit her lip before raising it again. “I’ll call Cao Bin.” The assistant? Victor had no idea what this Cao could do, but it didn’t matter and he turned again to the entrance and realized that a cat burglar wouldn’t walk through the front door. He hurtled to the elevator to Boss’ office. That’s where he’d imagined any sensitive information would be… When he got off, his path was blocked by a man made of paper. “Good evening, Winter Torch,” he said. “How may I be of assistance?” He stumbled back at the sight, not knowing what kind of monster he was facing. But his face was calm and blank, and something clicked in Victor’s mind to tell him that this was Cao Bin, or at least a manifestation of him. “I have reason to believe that History Maker is in danger,” he said, stepping around the living sculpture into the hall towards Yakov’s office. Cao followed him. “And you don’t wish to tell Boss this? May I ask why?” “I can’t tell you,” he opened Boss’ office. It was empty. “Can you tell me what kind of danger our organization is currently facing?” Victor took a shaky breath, and it was watery in his chest… but he was water right now. He was surprised Cao could understand his gargling speech. He was surprised Cao was even this calm. “A security breach,” he said. “I’m afraid you’ll have to be far more specific.” “An information breach.” “I see,” Cao said and nodded once. “Well I assure you that you don’t need to worry about any information at History Maker being corrupted or leaked,” he said with a sanguine smile as he crossed his paper white arms over his chest. “You don’t know that,” Victor countered in the quiet of Yakov’s office. There were no windows here. How would Red get in? Through the conference room next door? “I do,” Cao said. He followed Victor back into the hall where they collided with Spotlight who looked exhausted. “Ah—who are—wait… Victor?! What happened to you? Is this your power or—” “Spotlight, I don’t have time right now, I’m sorry,” he said, stepping around the hero to slide into the unlocked conference room to check the windows there. “What did you say? Are you ok?” “True, you do seem to be in distress, Winter Torch. Do you need medical attention?” “No, I’m fine.” “Be that as it may, it still stands that History Maker’s information is safe .” “You don’t know that!” “I do , Victor, and I’m assuming you’ve come to this floor because you are under the impression that this organization’s sensitive files are housed here—” “Wait, are we under attack?” Spotlight asked, immediately snapping to attention. “Who are we up against?” “Don’t worry about it,” Victor muttered and Spotlight crinkled their brows together in confusion. “But they’re not here,” Cao Bin finished with just a hint of exasperation. “None of it is.”Victor turned to him, splashing the table as he went. “What? What do you mean?” “If the information that these unknown assailants seek can be filed away or else written on paper, then they won’t find it here,” he explained. “W—then where is it?” “Unfortunately, that’s classified, Victor. But, again. Rest assured, that History Maker is safe in that aspect. If you think it is necessary, I will activate disaster protocol on the vault in order to increase security there. I can also implement similar measures for the Artillery and Design team on the thirteenth floor so that our technology is protected.” Victor’s mind was racing. Why wasn’t everyone’s information here at History Maker?! Cao had no idea… Red could find whatever safe space Cao thought he had and obliterate it. Victor was trying to stop that from happening. He didn’t want to look like even more of a screaming bag of nuts in that moment though, so forcing the answer out of Cao was out. He would just have to trust him… “Activate the disaster protocols, please,” he instructed, “just in case.” “Would you like me to activate it for the whole building?” Victor sighed. “Yes.” “And you don’t want me to inform Boss or the other top heroes about this?” Spotlight looked at Victor with apprehension and he made sure not to meet the young hero’s eyes. “Correct.” “Understood,” he droned, “activating disaster protocol.” At the drop of Cao’s last syllable, iron slats slammed shut over the conference room windows and the resounding clang that shook the walls was a sign that it was happening on the windows and exits all throughout the building. “All authorized personnel will be required to complete biometric scans in order to enter and exit rooms from now on. In order to enter History Maker, a combination of biometric scans and alphanumeric codes from authorized personnel will be required for entry inside and outside the building, which means that only HM employees are allowed to enter the building at this point.” “Thank you,” Victor said and Spotlight shifted uncomfortably on their toes. “Now, normally during disaster protocol, the authorities are automatically notified with a distress signal, but I assumed that you wouldn’t want that since you requested that I don’t tell Boss and the others about this. Is this assumption correct?” “Yes,” Victor confirmed and he moved to the door where several access panels had revealed themselves. He placed a thumb on the first one, but it was just a watery mass. A man’s cool, electronic voice responded. “Foreign presence detected. Scanning.” He looked at Cao Bin. “Sorry about that,” he said and wherever the real Cao Bin was in the world, he must’ve stopped the door because the beeping that had begun clicked out. “It seems that you need a flesh and blood finger print in order to leave this room. I’m afraid you can’t go anywhere in that state.” Which meant he was stuck there, because somehow Victor knew, though he’d never experienced this before, that if he reverted back, he would be a pile of pain. It didn’t matter though. He closed his eyes because he knew all the ends and outs of History Maker by heart. In his mind, he went floor by floor and planted ice over all the exits, because if Red did manage to break past the disaster protocol, Victor would know. He would be sure to trap him. “Victor,” Spotlight asked tentatively, “what’s happening?” He swallowed and wished they hadn’t asked. But they had, and even though Spotlight deserved the truth more than anyone, Victor couldn’t give it to them. “I made a mistake,” he said, trying to make his echoing voice clear. “But I didn’t have much of a choice in the matter, so… now we’re here.” “If… if you needed help—” “I couldn’t risk your life—” “That’s not for you to decide…” “Yakov also thought it was inadvisable—” “That’s not for anyone to decide,” they snapped and pointed at their chest. “I will decide if something is worth risking my life for. Me. You come to me next time. We’ll make the mistake together,” and even though they balled their fists in determination at their sides, they took several steps back as if startled by their own brazen response. “I… I’m sorry,” Victor said, and it felt like apologizing to his younger self because he understood. “You’re right.” Spotlight—no, Robin was their name—Robin’s bright green eyes bored into his, but they still looked like a deer in headlights, ready to run as if they thought Victor might scream at them. “I—I’m going to guard the vault,” they said and ran to the door. It scanned their eyes, fingers, blood, and voice before freeing them. “Well, if you don’t need anything else, Victor, I will be on my way,” Cao monotoned, snapping Victor’s attention to him. “Disaster protocol will be deactivated once one of the top heroes enters the space within a thousand foot radius of the building so that none of them are tipped off to what happened here tonight. I will let Clara at the front desk know about this situation.” “Thanks again, Cao.” “My pleasure,” and the paper man sat in the nearest chair and crossed its legs, suddenly becoming quite still. Victor was alone. He felt a type of sickness he had never felt before so he didn’t sit. He stood by the door and closed his eyes, focusing on the ice spread out through the building. Waiting. Waiting for Red. * “Care to explain what this is,” Yakov asked from behind the sofa and it knocked what little life Yuuri had in him out of his chest. He didn’t look up. It hadn’t even been three minutes. They must’ve found it. Everything. The suit. The rubies. The money. It was all just sitting in his closet after all. Or it could’ve been small… something trivial to Yuuri, but incriminating in the grand scheme of things, like a receipt or even a hair... “Hey, I’m talking to you!” “Don’t be rude, Yakov, you animal,” Lilia snapped and then Yuuri looked up. Yakov was standing behind the sofa with Yuuri’s poster of Winter Torch in his hands and he was holding it as if it were something indecent. “I just want to know what kind of person—” “There’s a way to ask everything,” Celestino said gently from the kitchen. “And is it really so strange that Yuuri has Winter’s merch? He wouldn’t be the only one in the world.” “He treats Winter Torch and he has a poster of him?” Yakov looked mildly disgusted and if Yuuri had more energy, he thought he might feel embarrassed. But if they hadn’t found anything else yet… maybe he was safe. Phichit must’ve swept the whole place clean before he left. “I’ve been a fan of his since I was young,” he croaked. “I got that a long time ago...I never actually thought I’d meet him in person.” “Of course you didn’t, Yuuri,” Celestino reassured as he rifled through a cabinet. “I didn’t really see a reason to throw it out after I did meet him. It was a gift after all…” “Perfectly understandable,” Celestino said and Yakov grunted, handing the offending poster to Lilia who tutted. “You see, Yakov, most humans feel things like sentimentality and admiration. Contrary to your own single belief, those feelings are not cause for attack,” she scolded and stormed back into Yuuri’s room, which made him realize that there were other things that he would dread for someone else to find besides stolen gems. He asked to be excused to his own bathroom to wait out the night. * Victor knew it was wild for him to want Red to come, but he did. It was actually more accurate to say that if Red came, he wanted Red to come before dawn. But he didn’t. Dawn came alone—as it always did—to take Victor’s powers away and replace them with the worst pain of his life. He laid on the floor, his stomach convulsing against the cool tiles, as he gritted his teeth down on a scream. Cao Bin’s sculpture was still sitting stationary in a chair and Victor considered it with a pinched watery gaze. Should he ask for help? But who would Cao call? He didn’t think he could look at Yuuri, not after the previous night, but he still wanted him there next to him… It was only an hour. He could last one hour. He just hoped Red Specter wouldn’t make an appearance before then. And then a terrible thought crossed his mind. What if he was wrong? He had assumed that Red Specter would attack History Maker, take all of their sensitive files as collateral, but what if that wasn’t what Red would do? He couldn’t imagine any alternatives, but even if Red really was after HM data, Victor was still assuming that Red was also under the false impression that all the information was at History Maker. What if he knew exactly where Cao had it all hidden and he was there right now? A choked and gargled noise escaped him as he pulled himself upright, just enough to drag himself to Cao’s sculpture. He didn’t know what to do—it was only paper—and he felt stupid tapping the inanimate leg. “Good morning, Winter Torch. How may I be of assistance?” Victor felt his heart jump when the sculpture looked down at him as if it had been living and breathing that whole time. “Should I perhaps contact the paramedics?” “No,” he coughed. “Are the files safe?” “They certainly are, thank you for your concern. The building has remained secure through the night. Boss, Iron Angel, and Baker all returned to their own homes last night after interrogating Yuuri Katsuki.” Victor’s ragged breath hitched in his throat at Yuuri’s name. “They talked to him?” “That is correct. Though I do not yet know the outcome of this interrogation.” “W—what time did they go to him?” “I believe they arrived at his place of residence at around eight and left at half past midnight.” “Half past…” but that meant… He thought about the shadow he tried to drown in the alley between the museum and the library on his way to meet Agni. It was Red. It definitely was. And Yuuri was being interrogated at the time. It wasn’t him. Yuuri Katsuki wasn’t Red Specter. When Yuuri’s puffy, tear stained face appeared in his mind, guilt and shame made him feel sick and he wanted to vomit. It was such a stupid assumption… Yuuri of all people. “Winter Torch, I am aware of your… trepidation… when it comes to the world of medicine, but I think it would be wise to contact a medical professional at this juncture.” “No, thank you, Cao, I’ve had worse.” “A horrifying statement, indeed.” Victor grumbled at that and turned over on his back to breathe better. It was some small relief that there was evidence exonerating Yuuri, but he couldn’t bask in it because now he hated himself for attacking the nurse. He was also positive, no matter how much his instincts seemed to be failing him lately, that there was something about Yuuri. Something secret. Something dark. It could just be his preconceived notions about anyone connected with crime syndicates shading his perspective of Yuuri, but there was more to it than just that. He didn’t have the luxury or strength to wonder about it though because his spine was on fire and Red Specter still hadn’t shown up. The door opened. Victor snatched the leg of Cao’s chair and hurtled it at the newcomer who grunted in surprise but still caught it. Victor’s brain immediately switched to overdrive. He ambled to his feet, his entire body screaming and stood defensively, ready to toss another chair. But the person who caught the chair was much shorter than Red, and much thinner. They set the chair down and gave Victor a wounded and frightened look as Victor fell on the floor next to Cao with relief. Cao had been sitting with his paper legs folded neatly beneath him ever since Victor had unceremoniously unseated him. “Victor, it’s just me,” Robin squeaked as the doors shut behind them and Victor groaned. “You look terrible ,” they added. “Yeah,” Victor moaned and laid back down to rest his cheek against the cool tiles. “Everything looks normal too. I got tired of guarding the vault so I made a few rounds around the building and checked the surveillance. There’s nothing to report,” they said, and Victor looked at Robin’s freckled face. They looked spent and he wondered how long Robin had been up. “Robin, go home,” Victor grumbled. “Sorry to keep you here.” “Victor, I’m not going anywhere. This is as much my responsibility as it is yours,” they protested. “Deactivating disaster protocol,” Cao announced in a cool, mechanical voice, and Victor turned so suddenly his neck ached. “Who’s back?” “Boss is currently en route to History Maker as we speak,” he informed. Purple light filled the conference room as the metal slats lifted over the windows. The biometric scanners retreated behind discreet panels and the doors opened of their own accord. “Shit, ok, just don’t deactivate it for the ADT floor and the vault, just in case. Let Billy know so he and his staff don’t freak out when they come to work and Robin,” he turned to the young hero who perked up, “Do you think you and Treasure can take it in shifts to guard the vault? Just until I’m sure the coast is clear?” “Of course, I’ll text her,” they said, pulling out their phone to contact 88, “and her name isn’t Treasure, it’s Kenza.” Victor winced. How the… “Where did I get Treasure from…?” Robin sighed and Victor was thankful for the playfully exasperated look of concession on their face. “She told us once that her name means treasure but—” “Yep, that’s it.” “Do better,” they scolded before pulling out their phone. Victor laughed and almost vomited when his stitches strained with the effort. Robin looked at him with alarm. “Should I text a doctor too… or?” “Robin, I will name my firstborn child after you if you don’t do that.” “I guess that leaves me with the second born child, then,” Cao remarked flatly, “and Boss has entered the building. If you need anything else, please feel free to contact me on my day phone.” He held out a paper hand to Victor, offering up a business card and when Victor took it, Cao dissolved into dozens of paper planes which all elegantly fluttered out of the open window. Victor groaned as he sat up and looked at Robin who shrugged wearily as if waiting for Victor to tell them to do something. “I know it doesn’t feel like it,” he said after the brief moment of silence passed, “but something is wrong.” “I believe you,” Robin said. “You should go home though. If anything happens, I doubt it’ll be during the daytime. And I have a feeling Nurse Katsuki would have an aneurysm on insta if he saw you right now. “I’ve had worse,” he groaned getting to his feet and Robin looked stricken. “That’s… that’s almost unbelievable.” “Yeah. I think I will go regroup at home then double back because Yakov might get suspicious if I hang around. But call me if you or 88 suspect anything, ok? And let her take the first shift.” “Roger that.” Victor left the conference room. He knew Yakov liked to spend at least twenty minutes in the lounge area making coffee and watching the news before heading up to his office, so he made sure to be quick about getting on the elevator. It felt strange leaving History Maker though. Everything was so calm. Normal. It was as if something terrible would happen as soon as he left. The thought wouldn’t leave him even as the day shift secretary gave him a wink as Victor opened the front doors. He told the secretary to call him if anything looked suspicious and the man obliged. It still wasn’t enough. Nothing would come of him sulking around though. He needed to go home, take his pain meds and check his injuries in peace before coming back. If a fight was really coming, he needed to be ready. And Cao claimed that the files were safe so Victor had to believe that. If they weren’t safe, Cao proved he was capable of contacting Victor in a matter of seconds. He spent his last few dollars on a cab back to his apartment. He limped to the entrance where a man was leaning and smoking a cigarette. Victor vaguely recognized him as a neighbor. For some reason, the man looked surprised to see Victor who gave him a polite nod as he opened the door. “You ain’t moved out yet?” The man asked him in a rough voice as he stomped out his cigarette and followed Victor into the lobby. “Uhh, sorry?” “All them boxes. Thought you was movin’.” “I’m sorry,” Victor said, clutching his side. It felt hot and damp. “I think you’ve got me confused with someone else.” “Nah, I saw the truck.” Victor felt impatient with the old man—he just needed to go upstairs. “Shame to see you go…” he grumbled and Victor shook his head. “I’m not going any—” “Victor!” someone shouted from the elevator. He turned, almost fell over to do it. It was Yuri and he looked like he fell out of the sky too, though he was holding tight to Makkachin’s leash because she had gone into a fit when she saw Victor. “What the hell happened?!” “I’m fine, I’ve had worse...” he mumbled, but the panic in Yuri’s face told him that he was missing something. “What— where have you been? ” Yuri cursed at Makkachin to sit which made Victor angry but he didn’t have the energy. “I got made as soon as I left Chicago!” He glowered at the old man who was interestedly watching the pair. “Good morning, goodbye!” The man huffed indignantly about young people but left. Yuri rushed up to Victor, too close, and leaned up to hiss in his ear as if someone were listening. “They fucking chased me!” “Who are you—” “Who do you think?! I had to get rid of the car—” Victor reeled back in disbelief. “I’m sorry, you what?!” “Keep your voice down! And I had no choice! I can’t let someone connected to Kazuya get their hands on a hero’s car, even if they are just car thieves. I had to scrap it just in case they used the license plate to track you or something. But, Victor, your place—” Victor felt cold. “What about my place?” “I swear, I don’t know what happened.” And Victor tore across the lobby for the elevator with Yuri and Makka on his heels. “It was like this when I got back, and I figured something must’ve happened because when I tried to call Clara from a burner phone, it went straight to voicemail, and I know that only happens during disaster protocol—” he rambled as the doors opened and Victor ran down the hall to his room. Victor felt his face lose what little color it had left. The door was open. Just a crack. “I… I haven't gone in yet,” Yuri said quietly. The silence was heavy on his shoulders. The only thing daring to break the tension was the sound of Makka’s panting. Victor held his arm out in front of Yuri, signalling him to stay. Taking a cautious step forward, he pulled the last ounce of strength from somewhere deep within him and he was ablaze. He heard Yuri mutter his name but he ignored him and pushed the door open. It was empty. Everything was gone. Down to the sofa. The curtains, the TV, the refrigerator, even the house plants . Gone. Victor ghosted through his bare apartment. It was like his body thought that if he just moved further in, all of his possessions would reveal themselves. He couldn’t make sense of it. He found himself in the kitchen, and without knowing why, he snatched a cabinet open. Bare. He limped out, down the hall and into the bedroom. He didn’t even have a bed anymore. “Blyat…!” He swore and he was distantly aware that Yuri had come up behind him with Makka. “What the freshly showered fuck…” Yuri swivelled around, his crass voice reverberating strangely in the empty room. Makkachin scampered across the floor, her paws sliding on the wood now that there was no throw rug for her to gain purchase, to a far corner. Victor looked up and saw that her bed was still there. Along with her box of toys. There was something flat on her bed and she sniffed at it. “Makka,” he ordered hollowly, “no, girl. Sit.” She dutifully sat and looked behind her at Victor with large, baby eyes. Victor walked to the bed and realized that the thing was the package containing his old super suit. The paper box was damp and tattered. His heart never felt more still, a rock in his chest. He bent down to open it. The suit was still there, folded. On top rested a folded piece of paper. He snatched it up and opened the note one handed. He immediately recognized the handwriting.
Consider your debt paid.
He stared at this message for what seemed like most of his life before he balled it up and tossed it. He got down on his knees, laid his head on the floor, and closed his eyes. “Victor…” he heard Yuri ask nervously. “Good night, Yuri.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“Victor?” Yuri toed his brother’s shoulder with the tip of his sneaker. “Victor, come on, you know you can’t stay here.” Victor didn’t respond. He wanted to sleep. He didn’t want to wake up for another hundred years give or take. “Victor, you’ve been compromised! We have to go!” Victor peeked an eye open at Yuri before closing it again. “‘S fine Yuri…” Yuri growled with frustration and stomped his foot. “No it’s not, Victor! Look at this place! This is the work of a serial killer! He probably knows who you are by now. You need to—” “I’m tired, Yuri. Just go…” “Victor!” Yuri pleaded and the tinge of panic in his voice made Victor keep his eyes open this time. “You’re scaring me! I get that you had to make a deal with Venom to save those trafficking victims, but then you come back looking worse than roadkill, History Maker enters disaster protocol, and now your apartment is like this—” “Yuri, you—” “Shut up! We’re going. Now.” “I was going to say you’re right, little kitten. I’m sorry.” “Well…” he looked puffed up with anger that he had no place to put now that Victor was on his side. “Yeah,” he finally managed. “Where are your meds? You look like Death did a driveby on you, and I don’t mean in a good way.” “I doubt they’re still in the bathroom,” he groaned loudly as he pushed himself upright. Yuri ran off to the bathroom. Victor wanted nothing more than to melt into the hardwood floor for eternity, but he didn’t like making his little brother sound like that, desperate and scared. “Found it,” Yuri said, tossing it to Victor. The bottle hit him in the face and rolled across the room for Makka to chase. Victor didn’t even flinch. Yuri’s hands flew up to his mouth. “Oh! Sorry…” “How are we getting there,” he asked. His car was gone— he’d have to mourn it later— and he definitely didn’t have the funds for another extended taxi ride. “I’ll… I’ll call someone.” * It turns out that Red had left all of Victor’s meds and bandages behind. That and all of Makkachin’s things were spared, which only made Victor feel ridiculous. He took a few painkillers on the car ride over to History Maker. The “someone” that Yuri called was a short and muscled teen with a stylish haircut and a tattoo of a crow on the side of his neck. Victor guessed that he had others, but they must’ve been hidden under the scarf and leather jacket. His name was Otabek, Yuri told him by way of a short introduction. Otabek didn’t say anything. He didn’t say anything the entire car ride. Victor sensed that there was something there, but thought that in his current condition, he might actually die if he teased Yuri and Yuri attacked him out of revenge. He was glad that his brother had a friend, though he knew from the outside looking in, it was difficult to call this tense car silence “friendship.” But it could just be that Victor was ruining the mood— he was bleeding through his shirt after all. When they arrived at History Maker, Victor pulled his dead weight out of the car and thanked Otabek who nodded at Victor and gave Yuri a strange look—like a smile but not quite—before pulling off. Victor decided that Otabek was the type of friend he’d call if he needed to hide a body which he resisted making a note of. They made their way up to Yakov’s floor, ignoring the double take the receptionist gave Yuri, and knocked on his office door. “Enter,” Yakov ordered from the other side. Victor hesitated, his hand lingering on the doorknob. Yuri looked at him questioningly and mouthed an agitated question at him. “Enter,” Yakov said again but louder. He didn’t want to talk to Yakov yet. He didn’t know what to say, how to explain everything. He had to make Yakov understand everything but— Yuri pushed the door open and marched in. The file Yakov was reading slipped from his hand. He slowly set his coffee down. “Hey, old man,” Yuri blurted and Yakov’s forehead twitched, “Sorry about everything. About running away. And joining that gang. It’s over and I’m back, and Victor is dying and he got robbed so we’re here now.” “I’m sorry, what?” Yakov rocketed out of his chair and rounded his desk to push Yuri aside who had been blocking Victor from view. “Victor?! Why do you look like shit?! Have you been working?!” “Uh… well…” Victor mumbled weakly as Yakov pulled him by the hand into the light and Yakov gasped as he looked him up and down. “It’s not that bad.” “He’s lying,” Yuri sucked his teeth, “when he powered up earlier, he couldn’t change his skin. It was just fire.” Victor screwed his eyes shut. He hadn’t even noticed. Yakov pulled his cell out of his pocket. “I’m calling Katsuki.” Victor’s heart jumped. “I… thought you didn’t trust him. You went to interrogate him…” “Interrogated. Status pending, but for now, he’ll do,” Yakov grunted as he thumbed through his contacts and Victor’s throat felt impossibly dry. “No! I don’t want… I don’t want him to come.” “Why the hell not? I thought you liked this one?” “I don’t want him to—” “Did he do something to you?!” “No!” Victor said firmly. He had to be clear, because it was his own embarrassment and possibly ill-founded suspicions that made him not want to see Yuuri. “He didn’t do anything, I promise. I just don’t want to see him right now.” “Victor, I went through all that trouble to screen this kid because you made me think you trusted him enough to take care of you and now you’re saying you don’t want to see him? I’m calling him.” “Yakov, please! Please don’t!” “What do you want me to do, Victor?” Yakov slammed his phone on his desk. “Tell me what you want before your stomach plops out onto the floor!” “I’ll be fine— my powers can heal me,” he said and Yuri looked at him in horror while Yakov shook his head. “If I power up and wait it out, I’ll be fine.” “No. Absolutely not.” “What’s this?” They all spun to the door to see Lilia and Celestino there and Victor turned away from them to hide his face. “Yuri? I see you’ve finally come to your senses,” Lilia drawled. “Yeahsorrywon’thappenagain,” he muttered the jumbled apology. Lilia narrowed her eyes at him and Celestino sighed. “A lovely display of penitence, indeed,” she scolded dryly. Yuri pointed at Victor. “He’s dying.” Victor shot him a dirty look as Lilia made a small wounded noise. “What?!” “What do you think of this?” Yakov asked them, holding his hand up to Victor. “I tell him Katsuki’s got our approval, and he says he doesn’t want to see him. He just wants to wait it out.” “Victor, that’s incredibly foolhardy!” Celestino said, stepping into the office with Lilia to stand by Yakov and then reeling back in shock when he got a good look at Victor. “I’ve done it before,” he said and instantly regretted it when he saw all of their stricken faces. “You what?” Lilia hissed. “It was a long time ago,” he said quickly and he could tell Yakov was grinding his teeth. “Fine,” he said. “If you don’t want Katsuki fixing your stitches, then I will. Medical ward. Now,” he commanded, rolling his sleeves up as he strode across the room to the door. Victor moaned. “Yakov, I don’t want—” “Victor!” Yakov spun around, his face red and eyes shining, “This is not a discussion! I am not going to let you die over something as silly as this. I’m going to fix them, and you’re going to listen to me because I’m your father! Are we clear?!” * Phichit was in a warehouse, close to where Yuuri teamed up with Victor, and he was helping Laszlo get rid of Victor’s things. It should’ve been Yuuri here instead of him, but here Phichit was, pretending to be Yuuri in the Red Specter suit. It was easier to keep Laszlo in the dark to the truth. Such was the way of Plan Z. Laszlo gave him a fiery thumbs up and Phichit refrained from returning it—he thought Yuuri would just give a silent nod. It was weird being in Yuuri’s shoes. They were slow shoes. He nearly blew it earlier when he lured Victor into that alley because his first instinct was to run at light speed. He hoped it was enough to get Victor off of Yuuri’s back. Thinking about his encounter with Victor, Phichit rubbed his hand and watched a potted plant crack and turn to ash. His hand was still sore after Victor had attacked him. It had already healed because of his regenerative abilities, but still. Nobody had ever attacked him before—not once, not even Scavenger. He tried not to take it personally—it wasn’t like Victor actually knew Phichit—but Phichit was finding that to be difficult at the moment. Remembering he was supposed to be helping, he lifted a sledge hammer and smashed the pot closest to him so that it would burn more easily. There was nothing here that linked these possessions back to Victor. No family photos, documents, diaries, or anything with Victor’s name or information on it. It must’ve been a dummy house in case Victor had to make a quick escape—hero protocol. That was good. He wondered how he would handle it if Laszlo somehow managed to connect the dots. This solution of Yuuri’s was draconian and invasive but, Phichit had to admit, he had a hard time thinking of how this would compromise Victor’s standing as a hero. Sure, it might get him in trouble, but he didn’t have to steal from the vault, which could've discredited him. And the world needed someone like Victor now. Phichit could feel it. They still needed to be safe when it came to Victor’s possessions. A mere sock in the wrong psychic hands could lead to disaster. The only solution was to get rid of everything. They would burn what they could and Laszlo would load up the rest and work his magic. Laszlo’s power was something Phichit liked to call “the jack of all trades.” It was a rare gift, the gift of many, the ability to do a bit of everything. He could stretch, fly, shoot lasers, burst into flames and even shapeshift… but he wasn’t exactly exceptional at any of these abilities. Phichit figured Laszlo had less than average strength in every single area. He was able to change his face enough to move in with Yuuri, but he wasn’t as accomplished a shapeshifter as Minako was, who could completely alter all of her features, right down to the voice and—depending on the person she was copying— a bit of the personality. Laszlo on the other hand could slightly alter his hair, face structure, and skin tone, and that was about it. It was enough though, and it helped that the con artist was such a great actor. Yuuri would be safe and Laszlo’s presence would explain why Yuuri lived in a two bedroom apartment. Phichit couldn’t stay there anymore, he thought as he watched Laszlo burn, surrounded by Victor’s smoldering possessions. Phichit’s skills made Yuuri look guilty. Being inaccessible to Yakov and the others made it less likely that Yuuri would be found out. Phichit wanted Yuuri to confess, to explain his situation and ask for help. If the heroes found him out first and Yuuri tried to confess after the fact, they might think he was lying to make himself look less guilty. Phichit thought that was the safest way to handle this. He could be wrong, but it wasn’t like he could bounce ideas off a friend about the matter. It was surprising to him that he could make one friend, as ridiculous as he was. The con artist playfully sent a ball of sparks Phichit’s way and Phichit swung the sledgehammer at it making Laszlo laugh. “Ya know,” he boomed into the smokey air, “I have a feelin’ you’d be a lot more fun if you talked.” Phichit shrugged. He didn’t know sign like Yuuri did. He doubted Laszlo would get it even if he did. “What did this poor guy ever do to ya, eh?” he asked, holding up a pillow as if it were the owner of all the things turned to ash. “Didn’t make good on a payment?” Phichit nodded and Laszlo laughed again. “Gotta tell Scavenger about this one. He don’t like ya, not after the last few scrapes, but what you two need is a couple of beers and a few stories.” Phichit looked up with interest at that. It was strange to think of Scavenger and Yuuri getting along over drinks and swapping stories, but they technically belonged to the same world. Maybe it was true. “I have a feeling ya’d like him. He got his…” he made weird gestures at his fingers and rear as if miming claws and a tail, “ya know… back when he was a kid. Korea or Japan or somethin’ like that. I always forget. One second he was in Spring Gate and the next he was on the other side of the world. Broke out of the lab and been burning things ever since.” “W—” he caught himself before the word escaped him, but his mind was racing. The suit felt hot. How hadn’t he known about this? But how could he? And it was very possible that the same person, this Dr. Kazuya, was the one who did it. But why? Laszlo seemed to notice that he’d froze. He raised a bushy eyebrow at him, his flames slowly getting weaker. It was time for another break. “Happens all the time. Especially in Spring Gate. Got a lot of mutant types here. More’n I’ve ever seen in the world. I guess I think you’d like Scavenger because you two are a lot alike. Both of ya act like ya got the tongue ripped out of ya,” he grunted thoughtfully as he bent to sit on the warehouse floor. The smoke settled over the low flames around them. Phichit held his breath, fought against the questions firing in his head. He leaned on the sledgehammer and focused his gaze on the floor. “Spring Gate’ll do that to ya. Rip it right out of yer head.” * Victor, lying on a stretcher in the medical ward, felt a sense of queasy numbness that he hadn’t felt since he was a teenager and he hated it. Yakov had finished up. Both Celestino and Lilia had to hold him down when Yakov tried to put the IV in his arm. It was over, but it didn’t feel like it. It didn’t help that he no longer had a home to go back to. It didn’t help that he had made so many mistakes and he had no one to blame but himself. Victor was so sure that Red would rob History Maker that he nearly killed himself trying to protect it. He even made an ass of himself in front of Robin and Cao for nothing. These past few weeks were like a series of steps he kept missing, constantly being caught unawares, constantly falling and feeling stupid for it. As he stared unblinkingly at the wall, he heard Yuri whistle somewhere. “Yuri,” Yakov growled, “why is he like this? What happened?” “Hell, if I know,” Yuuri said and Victor could imagine him shrugging. “Guess it must’ve happened in Detroit.” “Detroit?” Celestino rose from the chair he was sitting in by Victor’s stretcher. “What do you mean? Victor wasn’t in Detroit.” “Yeah, he—” Victor screwed his eyes shut, “Yuri,” he snapped. “What?” He sounded indignant and Victor sighed. He heard Yakov’s steps get closer. “Were you in Detroit, Victor?” Yakov asked in a low voice. It sounded dangerous, like wind over water you shouldn’t step in. “Tell the truth.” “...yes.” “Specifically after I asked you not to go to Detroit?” “Yes.” “Christ, Victor!” Lilia exclaimed, “You should know better! Just look at the state of you!” “This didn’t happen in Detroit…I…” he knew the truth would come out, and he couldn’t think of a situation in which it would be easier to come clean. “I knew I couldn’t handle it alone—” “Clearly,” Yakov hissed. “So… I requested help,” he said quickly, “and it went well, everyone's safe, and all that was left was the matter of payment—” “W—help? Payment? Victor, you’ll have to be more plain, because surely you don’t mean you sought help from a vigilante,” Lilia implored. “Not a vigilante, no,” Victor hedged. “Who?” Yakov demanded. “I… I was going to pay him, but then he changed his mind about the payment—” “Who, Victor?” “And I thought the alternative would be much worse than it actually turned out to be—” “Which was?” Celestino asked, actually sounding stern, which was rare. “Victor, I swear on the graves of our forefathers that if you don’t tell me who— ” “It was Red Specter,” he finally mumbled, closing his eyes again. “It was the only option I had,” he finished weakly. “Victor…” Lilia sighed and Celestino huffed and began pacing. “You mean to tell me,” Yakov whispered, sounding like murder, “while the three of us were running around trying to ensure your safety, you were deliberately disobeying me? Deliberately putting your life at risk?! When Katsuki told you, we all told you to stay put?!” “I’m sorry…” Lilia gave a frustrated shriek as she rounded back to Victor’s stretcher, “And I’m assuming this Red Specter is the reason why you’re currently hanging on by a thread? You mentioned he changed his mind about payment?” “He’s not… I just over-extended myself…he never actually did anything.” “And what was the new payment Victor?!” Lilia demanded. “Oh, but we know that much, don’t we,” Yakov roared. “Yuri said it when he came in. Red Specter was the one who robbed you, isn’t he?” Victor was silent, strongly debated taking a permanent vow of silence like a monk, and they all took it as confirmation. Yakov kicked his chair, Lilia sighed again and Celestino sucked his teeth. He couldn’t stop the tears from coming and he wished he could cry any other time except then because he felt like he was seeking attention, but that wasn’t it. It was just all too much and he was tired, and he wanted to close his eyes. He wanted to keep them closed for as long as possible. But he told them everything that happened. Right down to the disaster protocol he put History Maker under. “You’re so lucky that he didn’t want anything to do with History Maker! And you’re lucky that it was a dummy house he hit, Victor. Or did you decide to ignore that directive too?” Yakov asked, thoroughly incensed. “Did you leave anything in your apartment that would link it back to your identity?” “No,” he muttered. “What you did was incredibly irresponsible, Victor,” Celestino chided. “What were you even thinking? What if Spotlight got hurt? Or worse, one of our civilian staff members!” “What the fuck do you mean , what was he thinking?!” Yuri finally blurted and their parents whipped around to look at him. Victor winced. “It’s clear, isn’t it?” “Yuri, this is not the time,” Yakov snapped and Yuri interrupted him because he apparently had a strong desire to be disowned. “It’s never the time! You knew how much this case meant to Victor! You knew what it would do to him if he let those people get taken to Kazuya and you told him to just forget about it! What did you think would happen?! How do you think that made him feel when you told him to wait for the worst to happen?!” “Yuri—” Lilia began but Yuri seemed to be on a roll. “This is all your own faults. You should’ve known that he wouldn’t be able to ignore something like this. You forced him to rely on Venom. He was just doing what you always taught him to do— save a life, no matter the risk—” “We taught him to be a hero,” Celestino corrected firmly, “And being a hero doesn’t mean making a choice that might save a few while endangering countless others, Yuri. We told him that we would handle the situation in Detroit in due time. Dealing with people like Red Specter is like playing Russian roulette. This job is complicated, but Victor knows better.” “I can’t be here right now,” Yakov grumbled. He stood from his chair and turned to Lilia and Celestino when he got to the door. “Talk to Cao, please. We need to figure out where Victor’s going to live.” He said it without looking at Victor. He didn’t look at Victor when he left either. It hurt. * When Yuuri woke up, his head was killing him. His body was on fire, and he felt empty, emotions shredded to confetti inside him. It was like waking up from a hyper real nightmare. He was afraid to leave his room, afraid to even get out of bed. It felt as if there was a hidden trap that would yank him into the air by his ankle or send him plummeting into a pit of spikes just by stepping in the wrong place. Peeping out from his comforter, he reached for his phone and debated on whether or not he should call Phichit. Yakov, Lilia, and Celestino had left the night before without arresting them. He’d done it. Well.. Phichit had done it. He seemed to be in the clear for the moment but Phichit was effectively on the run because of Yuuri. It didn’t seem fair, and he realized that calling his friend might jeopardize Plan Z, no matter how much Yuuri wanted to confirm his friend’s safety. Phichit would let him know when it was safe to make contact though. He hesitated for a moment before dialing his sister instead. She didn’t pick up the first few times he called, but he was stubbornly determined. He needed someone to talk to. Finally, the line connected. “Yo.” “Mari?” His voice was cracked and high which was embarrassing. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Yeah, what’s going on?” I just got interrogated by the four most powerful heroes in the history of the world, narrowly avoiding arrest, but still forced my best friend into hiding, and now I’m afraid to go back to work. “Nothing. Just bored.” “Same.” “What are you doing?” “Laundry,” she said and he heard Vicchan yip in the background. She must’ve pulled the phone away from her to tell him to sit. His mother, somewhere even further away yelled for Mari, asking where the fresh towels were. They must’ve had customers. It was soothing to hear. “Nothing new here. Oh, but I can walk, so that’s new I guess.” “Music to my ears,” he hummed because it was true. “How’s Phichit?” He had no clue. He wondered if Phichit was panicking the way Yuuri was. Or maybe he was zooming across the Earth to clean up another mess Yuuri had made but didn’t know about. He hated that he couldn’t at least help. “He’s fine.” “I miss him,” she said and barked another order at Vicchan. Yuuri sighed. There were no tears left in him. “I’m coming to see you,” he said, surprising himself. “Wait, really? Uh, when?” “I don’t know. Maybe next week? After Christmas.” “Yuuri! Ah, mom is going to flip— ma!” She leaned away from the phone again and shouted for their mother who answered back. She told her what Yuuri said and his mother screamed, before calling for their father who also roared with excitement. Mari had lifted Vicchan in her arms so that he could bark into the phone for Yuuri who laughed and cooed compliments back at him. His family’s excitement and love was like a drug—he didn’t feel the pain inside him and he felt as if he were floating on something light and fluffy. He shared their joy for a moment before they reluctantly admitted they had to get back to work. Bidding his sister farewell, he nearly hung up before he heard his sister hurriedly asking him to wait. “Yeah?” He asked. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy you’re coming home, but I have a feeling—” “Here we go…” “I have a feeling that something’s off. Remember, I told you, I can get to America faster than you can come home—” “Bye, Mari,” he chuckled, “love you, I guess.” “Yeah, who doesn’t? See you in a few days, I guess.” Yuuri plugged his phone back in before rolling out of bed. He had to book a flight now, but that was the least of his worries. Opening the door and stepping into the living room, the living room that had been painstakingly searched the night before, he felt the fluffy high slowly dissipate. This is where Yakov, Lilia, and Celestino had pulled his painful history out of him. This is where they had opened an unseen hatch in the back of his mind so he could remember that Fujiwara had a power. This is where he’d had a panic attack. Just the night before. It was also where he shared cheap tequila and pizza with Phichit. It felt like ages ago. They’d done yoga together on this carpet… Yuuri was trying to help Phichit slow his mind down. They never really got a chance to actually do that. It was also possible that Phichit figured it out without Yuuri’s help which only hurt to think about. He walked to Phichit’s room, knowing he wouldn’t be there but he couldn’t help it. He knocked on the door. “Come in.” Yuuri sighed, and his forehead fell against the door. It was “Kirk.” He believed the con artist’s real name was Laszlo, but it didn’t matter. If he was smart, if he cared at all about Phichit, he’d never say that name out loud. He opened the door and leaned in. The room was pristine. At least it was pristine compared to what Yuuri was used to: stray notes and papers everywhere, on the walls and floor, scattered underneath the bed. But this room wasn’t Phichit’s anymore. It was Kirk’s, with flannels piled on the computer chair— that was where Phichit had printed out the picture of Victor for him—a few dishes stacked on the desk, and posters of motorcycles and trees plastering the walls. Kirk was laying in bed, looking at his phone and he looked as if he had always lived there. “Hey,” Yuuri tried tentatively. He didn’t know how this worked. Plan Z had always only been a concept. They never really talked it out. The only thing Yuuri could think to say was get out of Phichit’s bed and that was no good. Kirk looked at him and then back at his phone. “Mornin’,” he greeted. “I got some of your mail again. It’s on the kitchen table.” Yuuri didn’t know what that meant and he didn’t feel like playing improv with a stranger so he decided he’d had enough. “Sorry about last night,” he mumbled and dismissed himself. Making his way to the kitchen, he tried to force the idea of breakfast into his head to block out all the other unwanted thoughts. He absent-mindedly picked up a stack of letters from the table and shuffled through them—there was no way Phichit would’ve had time to edit their rent notices. He needed to get rid of them somehow. And then something caught his eye. It was an envelope brightly decorated with a beach scene and smiling tourists. There was a toll free number at the bottom. He never got spam mail. Never. Not at this address. Well Spring Drive got plenty. He got “spam” in his email from Fujiwara that he never failed to recognize. But this was different because it was a hard copy and it had come to this address, a location that should be protected. His heart stilled as he turned it to the back to open it.
Congratulations!
You’ve won an all expense paid trip to the Bahamas! Are you stressed? Overworked? Tired? In need of a vacation? If so, a cruise is exactly what you need! Bring your family and friends for fun, fun, FUN! Think outside of the wrapping this Christmas and enjoy yourself on a tropical getaway to the Bahamas!
Yuuri scanned through several paragraphs of marketing nonsense, searching frantically for the message he knew was hidden somewhere in it. He thought he found it at the end.
Does this all seem too good to be true? Maybe you need more convincing! We’ve set up an appointment for your travel consultation in our downtown office. Please arrive between 10:00AM and 12:00PM in order to confirm your noon time slot! We look forward to unfolding the world at your feet this Christmas!
Downtown carpet factory. 2:00AM. Christmas...but it said to confirm his noon time slot, which meant he needed to be shooting for the night of Christmas, not the morning. So technically, this meeting would be at two in the morning on December twenty-sixth. He recognized this convoluted pattern of conveying information very well. But it didn’t make sense for Fujiwara to change from emails to hard copies unless something had happened, unless he wanted to tell Yuuri something important, something that could change his family’s standing with— “Yeah that’s the one,” Laszlo said behind him and Yuuri nearly jumped out of his skin. “What,” he breathed, holding the fake spam to his chest as he looked around at his new roommate. “That’s the one they sent to me. Looks like junk,” he told Yuuri with a piercing blue stare. He held it for half a second longer than was strictly necessary before going to the sink to wash out a mug. Something in Yuuri’s mind clicked. This was it. This was the message from Phichit.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Yuuri had no idea what Phichit did with his suit. He rifled carefully through his closet to find some sort of clue, but he figured there wouldn’t be one since Yakov and the others had cleared him during their investigation. Phichit wouldn’t be that sloppy. The rubies and the money were gone as well, and while it was safe to assume that the money was properly distributed between all of his offshore accounts, he wasn’t a hundred percent sure where the rubies were. The only thing that made sense to him, he thought as he stupidly looked under his bed (just in case), was to give them all to Lam. Yuuri was collecting them for Lam in the first place, so it was only right that the crime boss would get them in the end. It still made him bitter when he thought about the loss of the gems though. He would have to pay the collector a visit, just to be sure.
In the meantime, he would have to figure out a way to procure his backup suit without attracting too much attention. He may be in the clear, but he had eyes on him now. Looking up at his blank ceiling, he realized that it was safe to assume that he was under some sort of surveillance. Yakov said that there would be follow up questions as if he, Yuuri, had been applying for a job, but the reason they questioned Yuuri in the first place was because they suspected him of being connected to Fujiwara. They would want to watch him. They would be paying close attention to him until they were sure he was innocent.
It would explain why “Kirk” continued acting even after Yakov and the others left. It was strange having him in his flat, eating his food as if he had always been there. There was no denying that Kirk was doing him (and Phichit) a huge favor though, so Yuuri couldn’t complain too much. He just hoped that wherever Phichit was in the world, he was ok.
*
Legs crossed lazily in front of him on his reclined beach chair, Phichit pouted at the Lanzarote sky as if imploring it for answers. One of the beach bar’s servers offered him another mojito which he refused in a polite murmur. It was a lovely day but it had no effect on his mood. He had only spent a day on the run and he already missed Yuuri. It didn’t help that they had just started making up either. He would have to wait until Christmas to see him, to readjust their plans. Yuuri’s safety in these next few days was just another thing to worry about on top of the time travel conundrum. Phichit had a feeling that waiting for the new year to run to the future was a bad idea. Perhaps it was superstition or his paranoia finally setting in. Regardless. He needed to find a way to leave and fast. If he was being honest, he had a laundry list of reasons to stay: Yuuri, his family, the uncertainty of going to the future, and now the mystery revolving around Scavenger. And yet, somehow, his one reason for going trumped everything else.
Yuuri told him before that he, Phichit, needed to clear his mind. They had tried it together a few times, but it was useless. This remote stretch of beach was supposed to help him in that matter but, as always, his brain was like a horse race without all the jockeys to take control. He needed something that would shut his brain off just enough for him to relax, but not enough to keep him from missing his window to jump into the time stream. It was true, he conceded to himself as he watched Christophe Giacometti walk his way, barefoot and shirtless in the sand, that he wasn’t exactly giving it his all. Every time he tried to clear his mind, he managed to find a new way to distract himself. Of course, Chris had no idea that Phichit had been tracking him. Chris ran his fingers through his damp hair and took a seat at the bar behind Phichit. Phichit looked at the thief’s back over his sunglasses. He might as well dive in, he thought, and got to his feet to join him.
Chris was nursing a sunny colored cocktail when he glimpsed Phichit sliding onto the stool next to him from the corner of his eye. A slow smile grew on his face, though he didn’t say anything. A server came back with a mojito for Phichit and left. He took a sip and looked at Chris sidelong as he rested his cheek on the back of his palm.
“How’s the water,” he asked.
Chris turned to him and pouted, though he still somehow managed to look pleased for the excuse to openly look Phichit up and down. “Very dull,” he drawled.
“Oh?”
“The ocean is far too big for one man to explore alone.”
“I find it very hard to believe that someone like you is here by himself,” he crooned back, quickly following Chris’ lead. From what Yuuri had told him about Chris, he expected him to be flirty, although he was still surprised how quickly Chris got to the point. He decided it was best to play along.
“Well, luckily I am,” he smiled on a sip of his sunshine. “Is there any way I could persuade you to be my swimming partner?”
Phichit hummed as if he were thinking and then met Chris’ gaze. “Make me an offer?”
“I’ll buy you dinner.”
Phichit shook his head and grinned. “I can buy myself dinner.”
“Dinner
and
breakfast then,” he purred and scooted closer to Phichit to lean with him on the bar. Phichit shivered when Chris whispered in his ear, “And maybe even something extra in between to tide you over.”
He had no idea how Yuuri had been putting up with Chris for so long. Though he had to admit, in different circumstances, this would’ve been exciting. But the circumstances
weren’t
different, and despite the fact that he was sitting with an angel in paradise, he knew that this was a temporary interlude for the hell that had been unleashed the day before. If only it were a different time…
He cupped Chris’ cheek in one hand and briefly ran his thumb along his prickly jawline. The thief leaned in to chase a kiss and narrowly missed it—Phichit slid nimbly from his stool leaving Chris to bite down on a grin. “Deal,” Phichit said over his shoulder, “let’s go.” He set his sunglasses on his beach chair before racing—at normal speed—to the shore, breaching white foam and warm, glittering water. Chris was right behind him and they both swam further into the sea.
They circled each other below the surface of the waves and only came up for air or a dose of heavy furtive looks. Phichit was playing a different game from Chris though. He swam further away from the beach until his toes barely touched the powdery sand beneath him. He turned around just in time to see Chris wading up to him with a devilish grin on his face, the salty water lapping at the space just below his collarbones, his hair ruffled and stained dark by the ocean.
Phichit looked around, squinting in the sun. He needed to be sure that he was in the right spot. Waves lapping over his shoulders, he decided it would have to do. Before he could turn back around, he yelped when he was suddenly pulled into Chris’ chest.
Startled, Phichit grabbed onto Chris’ shoulders to keep from falling back into the water which only made the thief smile wider and hold him closer. Then, chuckling, he hoisted Phichit’s legs up around his waist and peeked up at him through dark lashes. He figured he must’ve looked slack-jawed and dumb to Chris, with his mouth still hanging open in shock at being snatched up. Chris didn’t seem to care. He ghosted his lips over a dip in Phichit’s neck. The soft touch brought the shiver from before back. It was electric and Phichit struggled to ignore it. It was overwhelming. Embarrassingly so.
He couldn’t remember the last time someone held him close without it being platonic. He couldn’t remember the last time someone pulled him against their chest to just
feel
him, to share the nerves bunching up his stomach.To share the same rushed breath.
Was it at the Grand Prix?
He thought hazily as Chris bit softly under his ear and Phichit’s eyes fluttered shut. He was only a teenager then… It couldn’t have been that long. But when else would he have had the opportunity? As Chris peppered a tender line of kisses down his neck, he snapped back to reality, suddenly hyper aware of what Yuuri meant by not being able to seduce someone without it meaning something to him.
Oh.
It made perfect sense now, and before he could lose himself, he grabbed Chris’ face in both of his hands to place a chaste kiss on his forehead. For Phichit, he was pumping the breaks. For the plan. But it was still gentle enough to pass as a timid pause.
“Can I ask you something?” Phichit breathed, close enough to see flecks of dark pine and gold in his green eyes. Chris hummed and nuzzled his nose playfully against Phichit’s. He pulled out every mental lasso in his brain to keep himself from nuzzling back, or at least returning the touch by carding his fingers through the back of Chris’ hair.
Focus.
It was so important that he
focused.
This meant
nothing
to Chris and, if he was being honest with himself, this was just a game to Phichit too. He just couldn’t help but chase the affection…
“Obviously,” Chris replied after pretending to think.
Phichit laced his fingers behind Chris’ neck. “Is this your first time?” Chris snickered and it seemed as if he were trying not to laugh any harder than he already was. Phichit grinned.
“I’m not sure I know what you mean.”
“I mean,” the smile on Phichit’s face grew, “is this your first time being trapped in the middle of the ocean, Dick Cartier?”
The ghost of Chris’ excited grin still lingered on his face as it gradually became blank. The expression on his face rather reminded Phichit of a dialup tone, a staticky signal that a connection was slowly being made. He beamed at Chris who blinked long before delicately untangling Phichit from around him.
“Excuse me,” he muttered and turned to swim away. Phichit laughed—the humor of the situation outweighing the disappointment he felt about ruining the mood—and propelled himself in front of Chris. He reared back in shock at Phichit’s speed, water pushing over his face before he reemerged, spluttering like a beautiful, startled fish. Again, he tried to swim away but Phichit blocked him.
“Chris~
,” Phichit teased in a singsong voice as their cat and mouse game intensified, great walls of sea water splashing into the air every time Phichit moved, “I just wanna talk!”
“Out of my way,” Chris growled at him after another futile attempt to escape.
“Or what? Gonna use one of your shiny toys to hurt me,” he mocked, knowing full well that, after his thorough sweep of the ocean floor, the most Chris would be able to pull out of this area to protect him was a soda can. The realization must’ve hit Chris, because a flicker of panic appeared on his face before it was replaced by anger.
“Tu te fous de moi…?!”
Phichit grabbed Chris’ hand and laughed again when he immediately pulled it away.
“Ne soyez pas impoli!”
He cackled, tears coming to his eyes at the shocked look on Chris’ face when Phichit responded in French. “Come on, let’s just talk. You can trust me. Honest.”
Chris glared at him before taking a deep breath and closing his eyes as if he were praying for patience. And he kept praying, which only made Phichit feel awkward as he came down from his fit of giggles to float in silence with the international jewel thief he’d just cornered. Chris finally opened his eyes, hissing out a defeated sigh as he swam closer to Phichit.
“Fine,” he said with a small smile. His arms slinked their way back around Phichit’s waist. “Let’s talk.”
Phichit placed his arms on Chris’s biceps, contemplating pushing him off, and only half admiring how firm they were. “You really are handsy, aren’t you?”
“You started it. And besides,” Chris murmured, his hand ghosting up Phichit’s spine to rest in the middle of his back. “I wanted to show you
exactly
where a harpoon would tear through you if I suspect any foul play.”
He rolled his eyes. “There aren’t any harpoons in this area, Chris.”
“I never said it was in
this
area. I’m afraid you’ve underestimated my range.”
“I can outrun a harpoon.”
“Are you sure?”
Phichit smiled at him again, and just for the fun of teasing someone who was objectively stronger than him, he wrapped his arms around his neck. “Chris. You’re not going to kill me.” As if to prove his point, Chris didn’t say anything, although his hand was harsh on Phichit’s back, his eyes hard and jaw set as if he wanted to scream in his face. “You’re going to fulfill your promise to me, ok? You’re going to buy me dinner, take me back to your room so we can discuss how you’re going to protect Yuuri Katsuki while I’m gone, then you’re going to buy me breakfast tomorrow morning too. And if you try to run, I will drag you to the bottom of the ocean, harpoon or not.
Ça te dit?”
*
Caution and discretion were of the utmost importance, but it wasn’t like Minako hadn’t trained Yuuri to have those attributes. He procured his backup suit outside of Spring Gate with full confidence that he had not been followed. The suit was hidden in an old gas station, the only one for miles on an endless highway. It was lonely, the lights flickered pitifully, and there was only one pump. The suit was hidden inside, in a supply closet marked “Employees Only.” The clerk was a teen girl, and when Yuuri came in, she looked up once from her comic, blew a gum bubble, and looked down again. He quickly opened the closet and opened the battered cardboard box containing his suit. He stashed it in his backpack, bought a soda, and left.
As he mounted his motorcycle, he crossed the suit off of his mental checklist. Now, all he needed was an excuse to go to Lam. That meant he’d need another Orion piece. It wasn’t like he could just waltz in and ask Lam if Phichit made a delivery—that would just make him and Phichit look stupid. He’d show up with a ruby in his hands. They’d get to talking—Lam already knew who Yuuri was, so there was no use pretending— and eventually, Lam would let something slip. That would have to work.
*
For the time being, Victor, Makka, and Yuri were staying at Yakov’s. It had barely been a day, and Victor could tell that Yakov was nearing the end of his rope. Victor blamed Yuri who wasted no time in demanding a Playstation—Yakov handled it well, his face only turning two shades redder instead of the usual four. Victor had stuck to his room, which was actually just the guest room, but now he was so angry that he was ready to storm out. Flames rolled off of his shoulders as he took deep steadying breaths. Blowing up at Yakov would not do him any favors in his current predicament. After all it was Victor who had put History Maker in harm’s way. It was Victor who had made a bad judgement call and gotten himself robbed. He had been the Mistake King as of late, so he had no right to be angry.
But he
was
angry, and he was only getting angrier as he tried his best to read the news alert on his phone until the end. As he got up to leave his room, he reminded himself to be calm. He willed the fire to shrink back into him and opened the door. Yakov was grabbing his hat from the coat tree, on his way to work. He glanced over his shoulder at Victor—it seemed that Yakov was still finding it hard to look at him—before grabbing his keys.
“Yakov,” Victor called to stop him, and he noted how talking only made his anger worse. He held up his phone. “What’s this?”
Yakov turned to look at Victor. He grunted. “Phone,” he said and turned back to the door.
“No,
I mean this alert that you issued. The one about Red Specter.”
“What do you want, Victor?”
“I want to know why you raised him from two to four stars
overnight!”
“I made a judgement call. I’m sure you’re familiar with those.”
“Alright,” Victor took another deep breath because the fire was writhing just under the surface of his skin at Yakov’s condescending comment. “I admitted that I made a mistake. But this just doesn’t make sense! You’re putting his life in danger! A four star rating means a higher bounty, it means vigilantes,
assassins!
At the
least
the Guild of Champions will be after him now.”
“Let me ask you something, Victor,” Yakov growled as he threw his hat back on the coat tree and put his keys on the hook. He gestured for Victor to sit on the sofa and he crossed his arms on his chest. “What was your rationale when you asked Red Specter for help in Detroit?”
He hadn’t expected this direction and he had no clue where it was going. “I… I needed someone who wouldn’t ask for a price that I couldn’t pay,” he mumbled.
“And?” Yakov prompted and Victor gave him a nonplussed look. “What else? What else made Red Specter the ideal candidate for you, Victor?”
“He… he saved those other trafficking victims before—”
“I’ll just get straight to the point, because I do need to be getting to work and it seems like you’re going to skate around the truth for as long as I allow you to,” Yakov interrupted. “I denied your request to go to Detroit because you were injured and you didn’t have any
qualified backup
. Meaning, you didn’t have help from an official
four star
hero,” Yakov explained and Victor’s heart sank. “Ah. I can tell you understand now.” He retrieved his hat and keys and opened the door.
“Four stars implies that he’s an immediate threat to the public. You don’t believe that,” Victor tried again, shaking his head.
“I do. And whether or not you believe it is irrelevant because you at least believed that he had
four star abilities
. That is reason enough for his new ranking. If the Guild goes after him, so be it. This problem may be wrapped up sooner if that’s the case. End of conversation. And as far as your duties today are concerned, you have your orders. No training, no rounds, and only respond to jobs that are four stars or higher. Understood?”
“Yes,” Victor grumbled because there was nothing else to say.
*
Phichit closed the door to his hotel room behind Chris who rushed in and sat in the desk chair. He faced Phichit, the concern that had been growing on his face throughout their dinner fully grown and slightly manic.
“Dinner’s over, love,” he blurted. “Now tell me how you know Yuuri. Why does he need protecting?”
Phichit sighed and tossed his hotel key on the bed before flopping down next to it. “Where to start?” Sighing again, he fell on his back. He hadn’t realized just how exhausted he was. It was an odd feeling though because it wasn’t as if he hadn’t rested. Workouts never fatigued him. He rarely ever felt stressed at the Grand Prix. But now, he felt as if every fiber of his being were attached to invisible hooks that were slowly pulling him apart thread by thread. The longing and excitement he felt earlier were gone. They were replaced by something heavy, something that sat on his stomach and stayed there making him feel nauseous. He ran his hands over his face. “Where to start…” he mumbled again into his palms.
“Are… are you ok,” Chris asked hesitantly, which apparently was enough to break the dam holding back Phichit’s emotions. Tears gushed down his cheeks into his hair as a strained cry escaped him. He heard Chris get out of his chair. “What on Earth is wrong?!”
“Nothing!” His reply was wet and pathetic with tears which only made him cry more out of shame. Phichit slapped his hands over his face as if that would help push everything back in. Chris muttered something in French—Phichit didn’t catch what it was— and walked somewhere. He sat up on instinct to zoom in front of Chris who stumbled back on his heels. “Where are you going,” he asked as he wiped tears onto his sleeve.
“You’re
crying!
I was going to get you some tissue if that’s alright, or are you going to drag me to the bottom of the ocean?”
Phichit took a great heaving breath to steady himself as he was aware of the worry and shock on Chris’ face. It was so embarrassing. Why was this happening? Especially in front of a stranger? He couldn’t afford to be a wreck now when time was quickly becoming scarce for him. The fact that he must’ve looked like a complete idiot for seducing Chris into a trap one minute and then bawling his eyes out the next was reason enough for him to get a grip. He muttered that he was fine, even though the chagrined heat creeping up his neck suggested otherwise, and asked Chris to sit down again. Fighting to regain control, he took several more deep breaths. Chris was shaking his head.
“Is this what fine looks like these days?” Chris sat on the bed and Phichit fought to find the smile that had somehow slipped off his face. But instead of pulling the smile back from the pit of his stomach, the truth came out. Not just the edited truth that he was planning on telling Chris. The whole truth. Everything. It was like he was back in school again and unable to control his mile-a-minute mouth. He told Chris about Yuuri, how he was Red Specter, how Phichit had become an info broker, all the lies Phichit had told, how stubborn Yuuri was being, how he, Phichit, had to leave...everything. And for some reason, Chris sat and listened. He watched Phichit’s frantic pacing from the bed, not interrupting once. When Phichit finished he exhaled so hard that he felt the breath come from somewhere deeper than his diaphragm and he sunk to the floor, flinging his arms over his head with a groan. The silence in the room was heavy and Phichit thought he could hide in it forever, like a bear in a cave during winter. Something brushed against his shoulder. He looked up to see Chris sitting on the floor beside him, hugging one knee to his chest. He had a look on his face that Phichit associated with difficult math.
“Where did you say you were going again?” Chris asked.
“Business trip,” Phichit mumbled because that was the one thing he absolutely couldn’t tell anyone the truth about no matter what. Not unless he wanted to unravel his timeline thread by precious thread. Just the thought threatened to summon his anxious tears back from where they came.
“To where, exactly?”
“I can’t say,” he said wearily, and Chris nodded.
“I guess that’s not really the important part… but there’s so much of this story that I just don’t understand, Phichit. For starters, you want Victor to catch Yuuri so that Yuuri has no choice but to ask for help, am I correct?”
“Yeah,” Phichit sniffed.
“Then why did you protect him yesterday? Why trick Victor and the other heroes into thinking that they were meowing up the wrong tree?
“Barking…”
Chris waved a dismissive hand,
“N’importe quoi.
English is idiotic.” A smile twitched on Phichit’s face. “To be honest, I know that stupid phrase, but I pretended not to so you would stop crying long enough to start being a know-it-all again.”
A real smile broke on his face as Phichit laughed at that. “I haven’t been called a know-it-all since the Grand Prix.”
“Am I allowed to get you some tissue now?” Chris didn’t wait for permission and got up to go to the bathroom. When he came back, he handed Phichit the entire roll of toilet paper which made Phichit laugh again as Chris sat back down beside him. Phichit tore some off to clean his face and Chris waited for him to finish. “Why did you trick Victor and the other heroes, Phichit?”
“I…I don’t know.”
“Why haven’t you been contacting Victor to strategize with him like you originally planned to?”
“I don’t know,” he said again, thinking about the first fight he had with Yuuri—the fight about Phichit withholding the truth about all the heroes living in Spring Gate. “I just couldn’t do it, I guess. But I’ve been wasting so much time and now I’m running out of options. I don’t even know what to do anymore.”
“I think you know exactly what to do. You’re just afraid of what will happen once you start,” Chris said and Phichit gulped. “It sounds like this… business trip of yours is of the utmost importance. For some reason, it trumps everything, your friends, family, even your own life. You know you have to go. And you’ve convinced yourself that you’re still here because you’re tying up loose ends, but you’re actually just spinning a larger web to trap yourself in. You’re giving yourself excuses to stay.”
“That’s not true,” Phichit said.
“It’s not?” Chris challenged and Phichit decided to look at the opposite wall instead of at the thief who, for God knows what reason, was the first person he had opened up to like this. He didn’t have the energy to think about whether or not this was a mistake, but at least he wasn’t crying anymore. “If it’s not true, then Yuuri should be in custody now and you should be on your trip. Instead, Yuuri’s sharing a flat with a Scandinavian con artist and you’re in a hotel room
not
kissing the world’s most beautiful jewel thief. Was that part of your plan?”
“Of course not, but things change—”
“Not by much, love. I think you’re just scared.”
“I’m not scared.”
“It’s ok to be scared. Especially since I have a strong suspicion that there’s much more to this business trip than you’re admitting to. You’re afraid of what will happen to you and your friend once you leave. Can you at least… admit to that much?”
Phichit sighed. He was finally able to bring himself to at least shrug. “I might not ever see him or anyone else again.”
“But you’ve made up your mind,” Chris said softly. “You have to believe that you made the right decision about going on this business trip and about getting Yuuri help if any of your plans are actually going to work. Your problem is that you want to be able to control exactly what happens to Yuuri after you leave.”
“That isn’t—”
“Come now, Phichit, stop denying me. You’ve been overprotective because of what’s happened to Yuuri in the past… I’ve been there. We’ve got to give our friends the space to grow,” Chris said. “Yuuri is strong. And…” he looked at the hotel room door as if he expected someone to intrude on their conversation. He sniffed before continuing in a lower voice. “I think you and I both know exactly how hopeless Victor is when it comes to Yuuri so I’m positive he’d find a way to help him, no matter what Yakov and the others say.”
Phichit giggled at that. And once he started he couldn’t stop which got Chris snickering too. “Yuuri literally danced with him in the snow and then just
left
like he was Cinderella,” Phihcit wheezed and Chris gasped.
“Victor never told me that!”
“And then Victor wouldn’t stop talking about Yuuri on the bus back from Detroit! He nearly blew both of our covers so many times! And Yuuri is no better. I have been asking him for a
decade
to use his powers and he flat out refused. Then, here comes Victor with a bullet in his stomach, and all of a sudden using his power is a good idea!”
“Victor, that
pig
, he never told me that either! He never tells me
anything!”
“I
know!
Yuuri tells me literally nothing! I had to find out that he met Victor on Instagram, of all places!”
“When I told Victor that I was inviting Yuuri to his birthday party, he burst into flames,” Chris whispered and made Phichit snort with laughter. “How did we get to this point in our lives?”
“We need to exchange notes about those two.”
“Apparently so, since it’s obvious that Victor “Russian Prince Charming” Nikiforov has another best friend that he tells all these important details. That man will swear up and down that he doesn’t have feelings for Yuuri, but I promise if Yakov tried to put Yuuri in prison, Victor would burn this city to the ground.”
Phichit hummed at that as he came down from his fit of laughter. “What’s the thing Batman says?”
“You either die a hero or live long enough to fall in love,” Chris sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “We’ve got to let them go, Phichit.”
“I know...it’s hard.”
“Yeah.”
“I’m trying.”
Chris rested his cheek on his fist and gave him a look that Phichit felt embarrassed to return. He looked at the opposite wall again. “I can tell,” Chris sighed.
“I should’ve… I should’ve let him go yesterday. It wasn’t the perfect situation but…”
“It would’ve been enough.”
“He would’ve been alright,” he leaned his head against the wall behind him.
“It’s time to start worrying about your own well-being, little lightning bird,” Chris grunted matter-of-factly as he got to his feet. “It sounds like wherever you’re going, you’ll have to look out for yourself. Yuuri will be fine. He’s as tough as tough comes.”
“So is his skull,” Phichit mumbled and Chris grinned sympathetically.
“I understand that you can’t explain any of this to Yuuri. I would be a hypocrite if I told you to come clean to him so we’re going to make one more plan. It’ll be simple. It won’t be perfect. But it’ll be enough. And then… you have to go. Ok?”
“What if I don’t want to go?”
“My god, are you admitting that you’re
scared?”
Chris teased him and Phichit shrugged. “It’s ok if you are,” he reassured again and reached down to help Phichit to his feet.
*
It turned out that no matter how much his parents fussed at Victor for wanting to heal himself with his powers, it was becoming necessary. Not long after Yakov left for work, Victor got called out to put Tim Fair back behind bars. Victor didn’t waste much time with Tim, figuring that exercising mercy or restraint would only put himself in danger. No one mentioned the fact that he was a walking pillar of flames. He figured it must be too intimidating of a topic to breach. Even Tim looked ill-footed when Victor arrived like a burning comet to take him down. It was a good thing no one knew the truth—that he was actually struggling to pull himself back together. One thing was for sure, the insistent sting in his side meant that his wounds were melting back into their original state. There would be an ugly scar, but he would be whole again. His strength was slowly starting to come back too, which he was grateful for. A few younger beat cops ogled him and hovered their hands over the white fire flickering off of his arms when they thought he wasn’t looking.
“Cold, isn’t it?” He joked over his shoulder and they looked ashamed as they snatched their hands back. Victor laughed and made the flames spilling off of him spike. “Those uniforms can’t be too warm,” he said kindly holding out smoldering hands for them to touch experimentally. After about fifteen minutes of being petted and doted on, he decided there was no use in going back to Yakov’s; he may as well complete a round to stretch his legs. He walked the streets keeping his eyes peeled for any immediate threats. Pedestrians waved, and some even ran up to ask for pictures with him.
One person, a man in a bright red motorcycle helmet, ran up to him, and Victor’s heart skipped a beat when he thought of Yuuri. But then he remembered that Yuuri’s helmet was black… what would be the odds? It was possible that Yuuri owned two, though, he thought as the man slowed down when he got closer, took out a phone, and pointed to it. Victor smiled and nodded. The man slid next to him, wrapped his arm around Victor’s neck and held the phone out in front of them. Victor smiled at his glittering face on the screen. The man gave him a thumbs up as he stepped back.
“How’re those stitches holding up,” the man asked and a knot curled in Victor’s stomach.
“I’m sorry,” he asked in a low voice. It was broad daylight. People could see him. He needed to control his reactions.
“You don’t recognize me, boy scout?”
Boy scout…
where had Victor heard… and then he remembered that playful, cocky voice. Heat raced up his neck as he realized that this was Agni. “I tried to stay true to my colors,” he said pointing at his red helmet. He was still wearing all black, except he wasn’t wearing a suit. This time, Agni was wearing jeans, and a trench coat over a leather jacket with a wool scarf wrapped around his shoulders. Somehow, the info broker looked smug, even under the helmet.
“May I ask why you’re here,” Victor managed to say quietly without it sounding too hostile. No one was in earshot, but he still needed to remain calm in case anyone was watching. Agni seemed to be thinking the same thing, hence his change in attire.
“Well, first of all, you owe me an apology,” Agni said, waving a hand at him, the one that Victor had struck with his ice. It looked perfectly healthy, as far as Victor could tell, though Agni was wearing gloves. “I have
never
, in all my years of work, been attacked by a—”
“What would you have me do instead?” Victor cut him off, because he wasn’t sure exactly how careful Agni was planning on being in this conversation.
“How about
don’t
bite the hand that feeds you, for starters?”
“Think of how I felt,” Victor whispered, glancing around him and deciding to smile so that the image for anyone on the outside looking in was friendlier than it actually was. “You change our arrangement at the last second saying that you didn’t trust me to follow through on my end, and then you don’t tell me exactly what you want from me instead. What was I supposed to think?”
“What
did
you think? I’m still foggy on what you thought would happen, boy wonder.”
“I
thought
you were going to hit History Maker,” Victor hissed and even behind the black eyeshield, he could tell Agni was shocked, reeling back on his heels and throwing his hands up defensively in front of him.
“Hist—why on
Earth
would you ever think—actually...” his shock changed to thoughtfulness as quickly as it had come as he crossed his arms over his chest, “that wouldn’t have been a bad idea… but we couldn’t have done that. That would’ve put a lot of innocent people at risk...”
Victor sighed, wearily placing his hands on his hips as he took another nervous glance around him. “I don’t understand why you couldn’t just
tell
me what the new payment was. I made a fool of myself for nothing!”
“Well, we didn’t want you interfering and trying to stop us. The price was pretty personal after all…”
“After everything, you really think I would’ve put up a fight over some
pots and pans?
I was willing to—” He held his tongue on the last part: the fact that he would’ve gladly robbed the vault to get Red his ruby if it meant saving victims from Kazuya. But it seemed Agni understood.
“They say hindsight is twenty-twenty,” Agni hummed.
“Where’s my stuff?”
“We had to take care of it. Didn’t want anyone using it to track you.”
It was difficult to believe that Agni and Red would have that much consideration for his safety until he realized he was still thinking of the two as adversaries, threats. But they just...weren’t. If Victor was being honest with himself and pushed the voice out of his head that sounded a lot like Yakov, he would realize that Red and Agni never really posed any real threat to him or anyone for that matter. Not even when Victor was chasing Red. He had a feeling that it could’ve been far worse—case and point, he couldn’t even classify their interactions as fights. Just chases. Victor crossed his arms and began to absent-mindedly tap his chin with a finger. “How can you be sure it’s all safe? What did you do with everything?”
“If I told you, it wouldn’t really matter. But like I said before, I don’t take your identity lightly.” He held out a hand. “Truce?” Victor took it and smiled warmly.
“No.”
Agni threw his head back and laughed. “Well, regardless, it seems we both misjudged each other. But listen,” he said and his voice was lower, colder than before. A tinge of something uncharacteristic of the info broker permeated his tone, and Victor thought it was something like sadness. “This is the last time we’ll see each other face to face. I’m leaving. Possibly for good.”
“Happy travels, then,” Victor said, wondering where this was going and why Agni thought he needed to tell Victor specifically.
“I’m actively giving you three more chances at catching Red Specter. I know I’ve been holding out lately… but not anymore. The first time, I recommend you lay low,” Agni quickly began which made Victor nervous. Why would he be saying all this in public, right now? He relaxed his shoulders anyways, trying not to seem stiff as he noticed a sandwich delivery man gawk at the pair as he rode past on his bike. “He’ll be in Turner Creek, hitting a treasure house with Dick Cartier. You have the choice of taking them both on, which I don’t think you’ll want to do,” he said with a knowing lilt, “or you can take care of Scavenger who will be trying to set the downtown Christmas tree on fire at the same time.”
“How do you—”
“You have a choice… It’s ok to choose Scavenger. In fact, I recommend you choose Scavenger. For Chris’ sake,” he said so quietly Victor almost didn’t catch it, and he shouldn’t have been surprised that this man knew Chris. Agni continued to explain the next two chances, explaining that each time Red would be after Orion, but he’d be desperate, perhaps reckless. Even though it was the thief’s M.O. to be ghost-like, leaving no evidence, it was likely that he’d put up a fight if he was confronted… it was almost certain that he’d fight Victor. But he’d be alone. And Victor, though it gave him an uneasy feeling to think about it, would win. As Phichit gave him the brief rundown, he marvelled at the simplicity of the plan… the
messiness
of it. It was unlike the info broker who was as precise as a needle point. It just made him seem… different. And not in a good way. Victor wondered what had changed.
“Why…” Victor sighed, searching for the right words, “why now of all times…”
“Because I’ve wasted enough time as it is. I haven’t really believed in the decisions I’ve made until now but…I think it’s time I let you do your job.”
“And how did you get DC of all people to cooperate with you?”
“I think he may have a little crush on me,” Agni said coyly, the playfulness coming back. Victor couldn’t help but feel the smallest bit relieved to hear it.
“He doesn’t get crushes,” he teased. “Did you blackmail him?”
“A guy makes
one
measely death threat and this is how he gets treated,” he shook his head. “Is it so hard to believe that someone might have feelings for me?”
Victor narrowed his eyes at Agni, this cunning, mischievous, and dangerous man. As always, Victor’s head was buzzing with questions, tangled with loose ends begging to be tied. But before, those questions were hostile, suspicious, hindered by caution. Not this time. Now, for whatever reason, Victor was worried. “Agni,” he asked softly. “Where are you going?”
Agni hissed out a long sigh and rocked on his heels. That hesitation confirmed Victor’s fears. Agni never hesitated. He watched the man take a few slow steps closer. He took one of Victor’s hands between his and rubbed them as if trying to get warm. Victor tried not to laugh at the almost childlike gesture. “What’s happening?”
“You’re lending me your strength,” Agni said, his voice small.
“Take as much as you need, then,” Victor said and he tried to imagine what it would be like to see Agni smile. He squeezed Agni’s hand.
“I’m going on a trip,” he began, squeezing Victor’s hand back. “I’m trying to find a really,
really
bad person. I don’t actually know all the details, but there aren’t many people who can do what needs to be done so… I have to go.”
“Who is this person?”
“I really can’t tell you. If you pointed a gun at my head, I would tell you to pull the trigger.”
Victor’s throat ran dry at that solemn declaration. He gripped Agni’s hand harder and Agni returned the pressure. “If you’re in trouble, you should tell me. I can help you. I
will
help you.”
“This
is
me telling you,” Agni gave Victor’s hand one final rub before releasing it. “The only thing you can do for me is keep my friend safe while I’m gone. He’s a good person. I promise.”
“I believe you,” Victor said. “I think I always have.”
“I’ll text you the information tonight. All of it.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“It’s just rotten luck, love,” Chris murmured, but Yuuri was barely paying attention. He knew it wasn’t a good idea to lean against the car window since he was still masked, but he couldn’t help but stare regretfully back in the direction of the treasure house where his motorcycle lay broken and abandoned. Chris’s voice echoed beside him, something about a transmission or common wear and tear. He’d had that motorcycle ever since he came to Spring Gate. Phichit had procured it for him. It was how they had first gotten in contact with Laszlo. There wasn’t a single scrape that Yuuri had gotten into without escaping it on his motorcycle. He felt a bit silly for lamenting the loss of the bike but even so, when he turned the key in the ignition only to have it stall repeatedly, a piece of his heart was instantly chiselled away. He couldn’t bring himself to care about the distant police sirens getting ever closer or the treasure house’s alarm blaring. The only thing on his mind as Chris tugged him by the arm back to a getaway car was when he could come back to save his bike. But that was insane. He could never do that, not unless he wanted Yakov to bodyslam him the moment he set foot on the treasure house property. He sighed and sunk back into his seat. Chris was glancing at him as he drove, Yuuri could tell, but there was nothing much to say. The most important thing was that they got the Orion piece. That was what he should focus on. That was the only thing that mattered because its sheer existence meant that his family got to live to see another day. “You know,” Chris cleared his throat, “I know someone who could set you up with a new bike. If you’re interested..” Yuuri shook his head. He only trusted Phichit with things like that. “Hmm, well if you change your mind, you know my number. I also know a young lady who would be more than happy to pay the police station holding your bike a visit to take care of the evidence. Are you familiar with Ms. Millions?” When Yuuri nodded, Chris continued with a sly smile, “she really is delightful. Very good at infiltration, extractions, that sort of thing. I heard a rumor that the Guild of Champions was interested in her but you know how those things start. I can’t be sure if it’s true. In any case, give me a call if you want to do business with her and I’ll set something up.” Yuuri took out his phone and typed out the coordinates for the place he wanted to be dropped off at. He showed Chris who glanced it over once they reached a stop light. “Going hunting?” he asked with a small chuckle, which Yuuri of course ignored. They spent the next half hour in comfortable silence as Chris drove easily through the night. The snow was starting to pick up, leaving long pillows of white fluff along the roads. He brooded over how that would make walking in the woods difficult—he’d have to be particularly careful about covering his tracks. When they arrived on the outskirts of Glory Woods, Yuuri reached into the backseat to heft the bag carrying Orion onto his lap. Before he got out, Chris softly tapped his arm to get his attention. “Call me if you need to do another job, ok? I’ll give you a ride.” Yuuri took a second to consider this, warily weighing his options because it wasn’t exactly ideal to rely on Chris for transportation. There was only a little over a week until Christmas when he’d be able to see Phichit again… and wherever Phichit was, he was probably struggling. Yuuri didn’t want to burden him with finding and delivering another bike. Chris was watching him patiently and Yuuri gave him a short nod, tapped his shoulder with his fist, and got out of the car. Waiting until Chris pulled off, he thought about how he would have to make a trip up to Detroit. He already knew from his excursion with Victor that there was a car gang up there that he could rob. That would have to do—any vehicle those guys had wouldn’t be registered or traceable. He’d do that and, in the meantime, he’d have Chris give him a ride to his next extraction. It definitely wasn’t ideal, but he was tired of dragging his feet on Orion. He wanted to get this chapter of his life over with so he could move, so he could start over. Despite Yuuri’s earlier concerns, picking his way through the woods and around bunches of snow was therapeutic. Even though it usually made him anxious to think about his life after Spring Gate, it barely fazed him as he moved stealthily closer to the heart of the woods. He wondered what city would be good for him or if Phichit had any ideas on the matter. He’d probably leave the States. Canada was out of the question because he’d cut off his ear before trying to fight JJ… although there were rumors that he was coming to America. Maybe it was better to go to London where there were more jewels for him to steal. However, super powered crime was low there and the government was large enough that Fujiwara could find someone powerful to manipulate without anyone noticing which wasn’t ideal… But Yuuri could take the risk. He’d been obedient ever since he was a child. He had always made Fujiwara happy. He would have no reason to come after Yuuri when Yuuri had done exactly what was expected of him for over a decade. He could move to London. * When Yuuri arrived at Lam’s cottage, the usual entourage of guards were standing at attention in front of all the entrances. They were like statues; a few of them had even started accumulating snow on their shoulders. Yuuri didn’t jump from a tree to kick them in the stomach this time. He walked calmly to the front door, lugging the bag over his shoulder. When they pointed their guns at him, he hoisted it to his front, unzipped it, and revealed the flaming ruby. Lowering their weapon, a guard nearest him tapped a distinct pattern on the door without taking his eyes off Yuuri. After a moment, the door opened. Soft light poured from inside the cottage into the inky darkness of the wood as Lam poked his grey head out. “What?” he grumbled, before his filmy eyes caught sight of Yuuri. His face immediately brightened, the smirk from before flickering back onto his lips. “Enter,” he said, stepping back to let Yuuri in. Yuuri had been worried for nothing. The gems were here. Lam wasn’t even trying to hide them. On the contrary, they were all vainly displayed on pedestals on either side of the fireplace. They stuck out like gaudy burning beacons in the small, homey space of earthy colors. Yuuri had no idea why Lam would come to the states prepared with pedestals when he was living in a temporary cottage, but it seemed to him that Lam was the type of man who did whatever pleased him because there was rarely any reason for him to not do so. Who would check Lam? Who would confront him with full confidence that they would win? Possibly Fujiwara, but Yuuri knew that any confrontation between the two would mean war and, as far as Yuuri knew, Fujiwara had no reason to take Lam on at the moment. “Come in, come in,” Lam waved Yuuri further into the cottage, “and you can put that down on the couch there—Tao will take care of it.” Yuuri did as he was told and gently tipped Orion out of his bag onto the couch. When he turned back, Lam was admiring a ruby, his hand resting on its massive glass case. The lavish picture was completed by Lam’s overly luxurious nightwear which looked to Yuuri like a suit though they were clearly silk pajamas designed for someone with way too much disposable income. “I must say that I’m thoroughly impressed so far,” he gave the glass a rub as if it were a prized sports car or a dog. “I nearly fell out of my chair when Bird came by with them all. He did it quickly, the way he does, and it looked like the room was catching fire. The combination of his speed and the jewel’s luster did it, I think. Before he left, he said ‘just three more’ and then he was gone.” Lam chuckled to himself at the memory before giving the glass a final pat and gesturing for Yuuri to follow him. They walked into a small kitchen with rosy burnished cooking ware hanging over the stove and potted plants in the corners. It was warm and the smell of something garlicky tickled his nose before fading away. Unsure of what to do with himself, Yuuri stayed by the door as Lam made his way to the stove where a large pot was sitting. He shifted uncomfortably before realizing that he should probably say something, but he didn’t know what. He only came to be sure that the rubies were here, and they were, so… now what? Lam saved him the trouble of thinking as he began speaking before Yuuri could: “I will say that you have been a bit… reckless as of late. That is my one complaint.” He looked over his shoulder disapprovingly at Yuuri and the look only intensified when he saw that Yuuri was still standing at the kitchen’s entrance. “Practicing for your career as a door, are we? Have a proper seat. And take that mask off so you can eat,” he ordered. “I—I’m not hungry, thank you,” Yuuri said partly on instinct and partly out of panic. He had planned on being transparent with Lam from the beginning, but he still didn’t feel comfortable with a client seeing him, demanding that he take off his mask. He also didn’t feel comfortable with the idea of eating from someone who could potentially do him harm. Minako would hang him by the ankles if she ever thought he considered it... “It’s no trouble, I just had dinner myself,” he assured him as if Yuuri had been worried about being rude. “Sit,” he said again so Yuuri did. Lam continued to stir the contents of the pot as it began to bubble and the kitchen was filled with that garlic aroma that Yuuri smelled before. “Bird and I had been discussing Orion for months before all of this. I’m sure you know by now that it’s actually a battery. It powered a Venean spaceship that crashed here in the sixties. All the parts were salvaged for different uses but the battery was stolen, broken up, and scattered all over the world. Until now, of course.” This was actually news to Yuuri. He wondered why Phichit hadn’t mentioned it… but he guessed it didn’t really matter. It wasn’t like Yuuri would be using it for his game controllers. “I’m sure you’re smart enough to guess that something like Orion would be sought after by government bodies, traders, collectors, the usual riff raff. I don’t have the patience to deal with the usual riff raff, though. I don’t want to be in their line of sight as far as Orion is concerned, so when Agni mentioned that one of his operatives specialized in stealth tactics, I was interested. And,” he said as he opened a pristine cabinet for a bowl, “when that same operative was dubbed Red Specter by news outlets, I thought, ‘Now this is the gentleman that I can do business with.’” Lam ladled a clear soup into the bowl before coming back to the table to set it and a pair of chopsticks in front of Yuuri. He was skeptical, eyeing the glass noodles, green onions, meat, and sesame seeds with trepidation—this is how people got murdered, he thought as he tried not to think about how delicious it smelled. Lam sat opposite him and licked the ladle he used to serve Yuuri, not mentioning Yuuri’s hesitation. “I wanted to work with a ghost,” Lam continued as he smacked his lips appreciatively, “someone who couldn’t be tracked so that I could continue to stay in the dark. But now you're destroying mafia holdings in Detroit, fighting star ranked heroes, and kicking down doors. You’re becoming a bit messy, don’t you think? What happened?” Unsure of whether he was being led into a trap, Yuuri kept his mouth shut and shrugged noncommittally. Lam grunted and pointed his ladle at Yuuri’s bowl. “If I wanted to poison you, I would do it after you got the rest of Orion for me, not before, Yuuri. Now take the mask off and eat up.” Yuuri often thought to himself about what Phichit would do in any given situation and this time was no different: he was almost certain that Phichit would either smooth talk his way out of eating. Or... he’d gladly slurp it down. But Phichit could physically burn through any poison he digested.Yuuri couldn’t. Phichit was naturally charming. Yuuri wasn’t. He had no idea how to talk his way out of this... “Tell me if it’s poisoned,” he ordered softly before he could stop himself. “It’s not poisoned,” Lam replied blankly and Yuuri jumped. He was falling into that all too familiar stupor—he mentally slapped himself back into reality. Shit. He’d used his power without thinking, without really meaning to! He could tell. He already felt foggy and Lam blinked hazily before giving him a slightly startled look. Yuuri averted his eyes and stared at his soup as his heart raced. His neck and face were on fire with the realization of what he’d just done and to who. Stupid...he thought, stupid, reckless... “I’m sorry,” he muttered and nervously picked up the chopsticks to eat because he didn’t know what else to do to fix this situation. He picked at the noodles and brought them up to his face before he forgot he was still wearing the mask. He wondered if Lam had seen anything stupider as he hurriedly snatched it from his head and folded it into his lap. “As a matter of fact, I have seen something stupider,” Lam said and Yuuri fought the urge to bolt out the door as his skin ran cold as quickly as it had heated up. “Tao does something new every day.” “H—how do you—” “Yuuri, I’ve known about your power since you were a child. It’s no skin off my bones. Now stop squirming and eat.” “But how did you know what I was thinking?” “Because we’re the same,” he explained as he tapped his forehead which reminded Yuuri of the rant Phichit made after they first came back from Lam’s together. Phichit thought Lam had psychic abilities like Yuuri. Yuuri was too busy having a panic attack to commit that knowledge to memory, but now he was realizing he should’ve been more careful. How much of his thoughts could Lam hear? How much did he know? Lam was leaning his wizened head against his fist as he studied Yuuri with a troubled expression. Yuuri tried to put a mental wall up around everything he could before clearing his throat and finally tasting his soup. “‘S good,” he complimented quietly before taking another bite. Lam mumbled about being hungry again before getting up to prepare a bowl for himself and sitting back down at the table. “Yuuri, don’t you use your power when you work?” “I don’t see how that’s relevant.” “Of course,” Lam chuckled, “well, it might be. Because, if you remember, we were talking about you being reckless. You’ve been needlessly confronting Winter Torch, a five star international hero. That is no trivial matter. I am of the mind that you would benefit from using your ability while you work. It would be easier, cleaner if everyone who stands in your way simply does what you tell them to do. In fact, I was under the impression that was what you were doing all these years, but I guess I was wrong.” “I’ve been doing my job effectively,” Yuuri retorted through a mouth of glass noodles. “Effectively? Yes. Perfectly? Absolutely not,” Lam critiqued which irked Yuuri. “I liked it better when you didn’t leave evidence.” “Are you… expressing some kind of dissatisfaction with our current deal, Lam?” “Not necessarily,” Lam said airily. “I’m simply requesting that you be transparent with me. If you’re running into problems with procuring Orion, I think I have the right to know.” “No problems.” “Really?” “Really.” “Interesting. Quite frightening, actually.” “What?” “It’s just that you’re the first thief to ever tell me that a five star hero was no problem. Is Winter Torch really so insignificant to you?” “The way I’m handling him, he is,” Yuuri replied, his mouth feeling itchy around those words as if they somehow came out in the wrong order, or as if they just never belonged there in the first place. “Well, my sources tell me that one gem which I spent months arranging a transport for has somehow landed in the vault. Is that correct, Yuuri?” “It’s safe to assume that, yes.” “And still, you say that you’re having no problems procuring Orion for me? Fascinating,” he said as he reached across the table for a shaker of red pepper flakes. He sprinkled a generous helping on his soup. “I’m quite curious then to hear exactly how you plan on getting that ruby out of the vault without attracting too much attention to yourself.” “My methods are on a need to know basis for business reasons,” Yuuri evaded. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, but it’s possible that you might unintentionally tip other operatives off about trade secrets in your future business dealings.” Lam raised a dubious brow at him. “Not even a small hint,” he asked as he leaned over to pepper Yuuri’s soup as well. “Hmm…” Yuuri stirred his broth. His courage was starting to come back, the wall he put around his mind fortifying itself and his nerve strengthening. “Usually, I walk through the front door. I think I’ll do the same thing here.” Lam smirked again as if he wanted to laugh but Yuuri didn’t feel at ease with anything that Lam might have found funny. The man smacked his lips again as he finished his soup off. “Your mentor is a remarkable woman,” he said softly, setting the bowl down on the table. A nauseating shiver crept up Yuuri’s back. “She is listed as a two star jewel thief. Two stars, Yuuri. Minako ‘Metropolis’ Okukawa, a Guild of Champions prodigy , is being held in a local prison for seven years instead of the usual three only because of the rumor that she’s more dangerous than what her crimes have indicated. Conjecture. The public knows almost nothing about who she really is. And I think you and I both know that she’s in prison right now because she wants to be, not because she got messy,” he said and gave Yuuri a look that made him gingerly put his chopsticks down. “They don’t even have her real face in her prison mugshot. She may be in prison, but she’s the one in control right now. Power is what you make of yourself not what others make of you. I don’t care that you’ve jumped from two stars to four overnight because that means nothing for someone whose worth is determined by their ability to remain unseen. Your notoriety diminishes your value. It diminishes my faith in you. And you have yet to convince me why it shouldn’t.” “It doesn’t matter if your faith in me has diminished,” Yuuri replied and he felt himself growing hot again as the conversation had entered dangerous waters. The warm meal and cozy setting was no longer doing its job to disguise the tension in the room. Lam was clearly an expert at covering his true feelings. But this wasn’t the first time that Yuuri had been in close proximity to an underworld titan, a master of manipulation. He wasn’t the best at managing situations like this because he rarely found himself in the line of fire of someone like Lam, but he still recognized when he was being dragged into a punishment he didn’t deserve and how to stop it from happening. “This is an open discussion, Yuuri,” he said, holding his arms out as if to gesture to the kitchen as a supposedly safe space, “so please tell me exactly why your inability to meet my expectations doesn’t matter.” “It doesn’t matter because you can’t name a single thief that can replace me,” Yuuri retorted easily. “But I have.” “Minako isn’t going to break out for you. Like you said, she’s there because she wants to be.” “You’re woefully unaware of my influence, son. I can be quite persuasive.” “It doesn’t matter what you offer her. Minako is more than my mentor, she’s family. She isn’t going to do something that would screw me over. The reality of our situation is that no matter how bad you think I am at my job, no matter how many times I screw up or raise my star ranking, you won’t be able to find someone better suited for this position. You could recruit Dick Cartier but, his partnership with me aside, he has several reasons to decline this job. It’s restrictive, high profile, and you obviously want your operative to lay low. That’s not his M.O., if his signature kiss is any indication. I don’t even need to explain why Scavenger and Ms. Millions is a bad idea. You could request international operatives, but doing that means risking hiring someone who can’t stand up to Winter Torch in a moving armored truck. Someone who can’t escape him without taking hostages. Someone who can’t face an international five star hero in an avalanche and still live to tell the tale. Even as your faith in me diminishes, you’re still benefiting from this arrangement,” Yuuri defended as he pointed behind him to the living room housing the rubies. “You’re sitting on over half of Orion right now, all of it delivered ahead of schedule and in perfect condition. The only way this situation could be better for you is if I assembled the shield myself.” Lam actually did laugh this time as he got up to put his dishes in the sink. He turned back to Yuuri, resting his hands on the edge of the counter as he did. “You think I don’t know why those rubies came to me early, Yuuri?” “Our apartment is small,” Yuuri said quickly as he shrugged. “They’re bigger than watermelons.” “Your apartment was investigated.” “Because History Maker is considering hiring me. It wasn’t so much an investigation as much as it was a routine background check for potential staff members,” Yuuri said, his mouth moving for him before his brain could give the ‘ok’. “I don’t suppose your influence extends to Instagram?” Lam seemed to consider him as he picked at something in his teeth. “Hm,” he grunted. He shuffled back to Yuuri to pick up his bowl. He asked Yuuri if he wanted more, and when Yuuri politely shook his head, he put everything in the sink before sitting back down with a sigh. “Your argument can’t possibly be that you’re the best of the worst there is. Like you said, I’ve got over half of Orion right now. There’s nothing stopping me from cutting my losses now before your reckless behavior drags me into an unwanted legal debacle.” “Your main concern is that I’ve become visible,” Yuuri said and lifted his mask up for Lam to see. “But no one even knows what I look like at a four star rating. The only precedent for that is my mentor, Minako. And considering the job I’m doing, collecting Orion, that in and of itself is a reason for you to have faith in me. Lam, you’ve basically asked me to snatch the moon out of the sky so you shouldn’t be surprised when people notice it's gone. It doesn’t come as a surprise to me that my star ranking went up and I expected you to see that coming considering what you’re asking me to do. You said before that even government bodies have their eyes on Orion. This outcome was inevitable. But I’m still here. And no one knows who I am or how to stop me. I’m doing my job.” “Yuuri,” Lam asked. He folded his knotted hands on the table and kept his gaze there as he chewed on something: his words, maybe, something unsavory that needed breaking up before being presented to Yuuri so that it was more palatable. He finally met Yuuri’s eyes again. “Are you willing to kill Winter Torch for this job?” “Of course not!” Yuuri shot back, horrified. Anger rose like bile in his throat. “Th—there’s nothing that can convince me to do something like that. You can take the rest of Orion, end this deal, whatever, but I’m not killing anyone for you, whether you like it or not,” he declared as he stood up, ignoring the potential consequences of those words buzzing like angry hornets somewhere in his mind, somewhere behind the wall. “Good,” Lam nodded, his lip turning up. “There’s at least that.” Yuuri was disgusted. He was suddenly completely unable to remain in the same room as Lam. He wished Phichit was there with him—there’s no way he would’ve allowed the conversation to take a turn like this. Yuuri wanted to leave. “I think I’ll get going then,” he said curtly, “it’s late.” “It is,” Lam said and he got up too to show Yuuri to the door. Yuuri walked quickly with his bag and mask in hand, and only stopped when Lam said his name, though he didn’t turn to look him in the eye. “If you make another mistake,” Lam said, “the deal’s off.” “Are you sure your nose could handle that?” Yuuri turned around, his patience completely gone, the barrier around his mind tumbling like the walls of Jericho. “The stench of a man in debt must not be so bad after all.” Lam’s silver eyes pierced him like spears but Yuuri refused to even blink. If Phichit and Yuuri were anything alike, and they were, this must’ve been the real reason Phichit wanted to physically harm Lam before, this blatant disregard for boundaries, the manipulation of morals for the sake of an extra penny. Yuuri felt his fists clench as he continued to match the old man’s heavy gaze. Lam shook his head wearily. Even that small movement wound Yuuri’s nerves tighter. Lam turned and shuffled away to flop down on the couch next to the newest ruby. “You know,” he yawned languidly and scratched his head as if he were being overcome with sleep. “You really are like your mother. I thought it was just your looks but…” A terrible ringing grew in Yuuri’s ears. He felt a familiar sinking sensation. “When was the last time you saw her? I think I’ll have to call Hiroko. It’s been so long since we’ve talked.”
* Yuuri couldn’t get out of the woods quickly enough. The snow was getting in his way and he tripped over roots, dodged brambles and hopped foxholes to fight his way back to civilization. His heart thundered in his chest as panic came to call. He eventually made it to the side of an abandoned road, the forest behind him and the city with its lit windows and skyscrapers twinkling like bits of radioactive material in front. He tore his phone out of his bag and dialed home. He wanted to jump through the phone and make his mother pick up, make her answer and tell him that she was ok, but it kept ringing! “Yuu—” “Okaasan?!” Yuuri’s chest caved in when he heard his mother’s voice. “Yuuri, yes, it’s me!” “Mom, are you ok?!” “Yes, of course , honey! Why wouldn’t I be?” “Mom, I’m sorry,” Yuuri rushed, relieved to hear his mother, but every muscle in his body pulled tight as if hooks were snagged in them. He began jogging south back to the city to catch the next train. “I think it’s time to leave… leave Hasetsu.” “Yuuri,” his mother breathed. She pulled away from the phone to call his father. “Toshiya, Yuu-chan wants us to move! Here, Yuuri, you’re on speaker now.” “Yuuri, what’s going on?” Yuuri’s father only sounded mildly concerned which only made Yuuri more nervous, more frantic to get to them, because didn’t they understand that he wouldn’t suggest this if it weren’t absolutely necessary? Didn’t they understand what he’d been doing all these years? He was trying to protect them…why did they sound so… so nonchalant?! “Please, just listen! I need you to trust me, and plan an escape. Maybe arrange it with Fujiwara—” “Fujiwara?!” his father boomed “Now, why on Earth, would you ask us to do something like that? Are you in trouble, son? If you are, you should come—” “No, listen! This is about someone called Lam. Lam Pok Chi. He’s a collector or… something and he knows—” “Lam Pok Chi? Not Lam-ni?!” His mother trilled excitedly, “Oh it’s been ages since I’ve heard from him, Yuuri! How nostalgic! How did you meet him?” “I…” Yuuri’s adrenaline was making it almost impossible to process what his mother was saying. “What?!” “Oh, but you’re not in business with Lam, are you Yuuri?” his father asked and Yuuri shook his head incredulously trying to make sense of it all. “Wh—how do you know who Lam is?” “What do you mean, Yuuri? You met him before,” his mother said. “When?!” “He was there at your ice skating event! Everyone was! You remember that, right,” his father added excitedly. “My ice sk—I was six? That hardly counts!” “Well, he’s a friend of the family, Yuuri,” his mother said, “A very good friend. Have you been talking to him?” And then she gasped as if she just realized something, “Is he the one who has you so upset?” “Mom—” “Yuuri, honey, I’ll call you back after I speak to Lam. If he upset you, he will have an earful.” “Just a minute, Hiroko,” his father interrupted before the line was cut. “Yuuri, you never answered me. Are you in business with him?” “I… yes, but—” “Yuuri. Uh-uh. No. Not a good idea,” his father urged in a low voice. “But, it’s already done… are you saying I can’t trust him?” “Oh, you can trust Lam, honey,” his mother said hesitantly, “there’s no doubt about that. He wouldn’t harm you because he’s family but he’s still… who he is.” Yuuri was silent, contemplating what that meant and still not finding an answer. “He’s like us, Yuuri,” his father finally said. “Your mother and I left that life for a reason.” “When it comes to Fujiwara and Lam, when choosing between two evils, you should choose Lam. But you’re still choosing evil, Yuuri,” his mother explained solemnly. “Family is more complicated than good and evil but business isn’t. You have to make the right choice to protect yourself.” The snow piling up on Yuuri’s shoulders jolted him out of his shock, made him realize that he was standing still and alone by a bridge. He shivered violently and rushed underneath it for protection, the thoughts of who his parents were slowly opening his eyes to his reality. His parents weren’t saints. They never were. The fact that they were his mother and father, his beloved protectors, often made him forget that there was a reason why they were respected by Fujiwara for years before they defected. Of course they and Lam were old buddies. It made sense. But he’d always known this about his family. It was why he was Red Specter in the first place. He’d just never really thought about it. And how could he when his earliest memories were of his parents on either side of him, holding his hands and guiding him across an ice rink? All his memories of his parents were warm and loving, but he never thought about how someone else’s memories of his parents were most likely anything but. He sighed and sank to the damp ground. Resting his palm against his forehead, he closed his eyes. “Can I trust him,” he asked after a long silence. “Yes, Yuuri, but—” his mother answered first and his father hummed his agreement. “Are you sure?” “I’ve staked my life on my ability to trust Lam. Trust is a contract. I would not tell my own son to sign a contract that would bleed him dry,” his mother said with a stamp of cold and confident finality in her voice. He imagined that this is what she must’ve sounded like before even Mari was born. When she was someone that Fujiwara valued. “I’ll be sure to remind Lam-ni of the meaning of trust when I call him.” He had no idea what to say. He could scarcely imagine his mother calling to scold Lam either, a man who had Yuuri shaken to the marrow of his bones not minutes before. But there was a lot about the people around him that he hadn’t imagined, wasn’t there? “Ok,” he whispered after a long stretch of nothing but the muted sound of wind on ice. Even Yuuri’s thoughts were hushed. “Ok.” “Yuuri. We’re sorry… we really are.” “I know, mom. I’m not upset. It’s… it’s ok.”
*
The next day...
“Victor, roof, now,” Yakov’s command rattled through his comm link. He immediately jumped off the break room’s couch, dropping his sandwich on the floor, and flew up the stairs—the elevator would take too long. “You’re being air-dropped downtown. There are reports that five ninjas are wreaking havoc in the area. I’ve seen the footage. One of them has an over large backpack. It’s four ninjas and Red Specter. I want you to neutralize this situation as best you can. Understood?” “Yes, sir,” Victor affirmed as he stepped out onto the roof. He was greeted by icy sunlight and the familiar din of History Maker’s helicopter rotor. “Arrests?” Yakov sighed, making static on the line. “Just scare ‘em off if you can. It’s five against one and you’re still healing.” “Right,” he said ruefully and stepped up into the helicopter, signalling the pilot to take off.
*
Exit.
Yuuri hopped from the roof of a car, landed on concrete and sprinted. Something silver whisked past his ear and disappeared. It barely missed his face.
Exit.
He kept thinking the word frantically to himself as his mind was split into four different perspectives. Two on the rooftops. Two on his heels. He heard a slicing sound, something sharp cutting through air, and he ducked. Screams erupted around him and faces blurred past his periphery. He scanned the buildings, the alleys, everything, looking for a way out. Something snared his ankle and he tripped, fell on his chest. The ruby dug uncomfortably into him. He turned over to see a thick metal rope trapping him. Heart beating furiously, he procured a blade and sliced through the trap before he could be dragged over asphalt to his death. Some of it still dangled around his foot as he ran, but it didn’t matter.
Where’s Chris?
He saw a bike beside him on the sidewalk, chained to a post. Without stopping, he ripped it from its restraints and tossed it with all of his strength behind him. He pressed on. Weaving around shrieking civilians, he concentrated on the four pursuing him and on a possible way out.
Chris was supposed to be here...
The sewers. He could escape through the sewers. The simple thought descended on him as his eyes found a manhole cover. A man slipped on the snow and fell on top of it, tearing Yuuri out of his focus. “Daddy!” someone screamed, and Yuuri saw a child in a fluffy coat run from the sidewalk towards the man. “No, don’t—” the man shouted in terror at his child, reaching out to tell them to go back, to stay, because the assassin was getting closer, because the child would be in the way... But the child didn’t see what he and Yuuri did… Yuuri pulled his grappling hook, shot it at a street lamp for anchorage and swung fast and low through the air like a pendulum to scoop up the father and his kid under his left arm. He landed on the sidewalk, tossed them screaming into an alley between two restaurants—they’d be able to get in through a back entrance to hide—and resumed his escape. But as soon as he began running, another thick wire lashed at him and snared his right wrist. He reached for his knife again but he was too slow—his left wrist was next. Fine, he thought, and yanked hard on his left restraint, tearing an assassin out of the sky. She fell from the top of a bank and landed on her feet like a demon’s pet cat amongst scattering pedestrians. The one who had his right wrist was just as strong as Yuuri and barely moved an inch when he tugged. His left ankle was next. He kicked and dragged this assassin across the ground behind him. His breathing picked up as he realized that there was yet another wire tethered to his right ankle. It didn’t matter how much he fought. But he still started running again. It didn’t matter if two of them were weaker than him—he heard them grunt and scream as they tried to keep him in one place—because the other two matched his strength. And there were two, he lamented as the right side of his body lagged behind his left, dragged backwards by his undertakers. He wondered if Chris was watching. He wondered if Chris knew. He felt like a rabid dog on four leashes as a frustrated scream poured out of him. This couldn’t be it. The thought came as he was pulled hard to the ground. Gravel and ice dug into his skin from underneath his suit and he tasted the iron of blood on his tongue. Please. He begged, closing his eyes. No. He thought about fighting. But for only a second before he decided to crawl instead. There were too many people. Someone could get hurt. Someone could die. This was all he could do. His body started shaking at the thought. One of them shouted something in a language he didn’t recognize. He was going to die. The screams around him picked up, a dizzying cacophony of distress. The assassins were shouting—one of them had completely let go of his left arm. Something light and flat landed on his back. Before he could process this, every inch of space from his waist to his neck was consumed by burning fire. * As soon as Victor’s feet touched the ground, the assassins scattered. They were like lit cartoon matches in their black suits and their heads engulfed in white flames. But his attention was on Red who was screaming, crawling to the nearest snowbank like an odd turtle with a ball of fire for a shell. Victor was relieved that Red made it and rolled over to extinguish his back. The bulging backpack hiding Orion was strapped to his front and it made him look like an upturned bug. Victor anxiously waited for Red to turn again and show him his back—Victor needed to be sure the mark was gone—but he hadn’t forgotten about the other four. He snapped his fingers and walls of flames blocked off every alley and rooftop edge on their block. Yakov wanted him to scare them away. The best way to do that was to make them feel trapped and desperate until they felt the only option was to run. They pulled their heads out of the snow around him and drew weapons that he only registered in his periphery. Turn, Red, he thought pleadingly as the thief shakily pulled himself out of the snowbank. The swirling red mark of the pig on his back had made Victor panic when he first glimpsed it, and he acted on instinct to make it disappear. He only had a vague idea of what it meant, but if he was right, he thought as Red ambled to his feet, it was best if no one saw it. Red stumbled around as if disoriented, flashing his soaked but mercifully blank back before tripping back around to face Victor. Thank God. Victor sighed and sent four fat fireballs at the assassins around him who all jumped nimbly away. But he wasn’t supposed to be going easy on Red either, so he sent one hurtling in the thief's direction as well. Victor had warned Yakov about this, but Yakov hadn’t cared and he was even glad at the thought of assassins coming after Red. Red didn’t deserve to be killed. He didn’t deserve to be murdered in the streets after risking his own life to save two helpless people. Victor didn’t care what Yakov thought. He wasn’t going to let Red die, and he certainly wasn’t going to let the thief be marked for slaughter, no matter how many rubies he stole. He still needed to make this look good, he thought regretfully as he sent a wave of flames twice Red’s height to push him away. For the thief had charged in his direction as if ready to jump at him, and Victor was in no shape or mood for acrobatics at the moment. He felt a tingle—something telling him to move—and he stooped down, narrowly avoiding an airborne assassin. She landed in a neat squat to his left, her blade held out beside her, before kicking a monstrous hole through a wooden utility pole. It toppled with a sickening splintering sound in Red’s direction—Victor sucked his teeth. They were still trying to kill him? Dodge! He shouted mentally as he sprinted for the thief. DODGE! Wires swung threateningly like electric tentacles in the air and the assassins scattered to avoid them. Sparks showered over Victor but he couldn’t feel them; Red was stupidly still standing, watching the pole come for him as he raised his forearms defensively. Victor wasn’t going to make it— The pole fell like an axe on Red’s arms. The thief didn’t budge, but craned his head behind him—Victor looked too. The restaurant. The frightened faces of civilians were pressed against the windows, watching in wide eyed wonder at the chaos. The man and kid Red had saved were front and center. If Red had dodged… they all would’ve been finished. Red grunted and gave the pole a huge shove—it vaulted back in the air towards the assassins. A strong one caught it and tossed it back in a second only for Red to return it, and Victor ended the dangerous game of hot potato by incinerating the pole into a smoldering pile of ash between them. The only things that remained were the transformer and wires. He needed to get back on track and scare them off. Hopefully, Red would wise up and run. Victor took a deep breath. On his exhale, white fire erupted in spurts from the ground in front of them all as if the earth were an extension of his flaming lungs. They scattered around him to avoid getting burned. Another knife came hurling his way and a wall of fire melted it to his left before it could get close. He looked at the assassin who threw it. “You should know better than to leave knives out for the domovoi,” Victor teased her, using the same tactic he used on his brother when they were younger to scare him into being obedient. But this time, he would make it special, an act catered to the murderer before him. “He might do something with it you’ll regret,” and he grew into a ten foot giant of white flames with a long blazing beard, horse ears and a flickering split tail to match. The domovoi only had two eyes, but Victor always found that six had a better effect. He was right. Even behind the black mask, Victor could tell that the woman was shaking with fear. He rarely turned himself into a fiery hell spirit but this was a special occasion. He took one step forward and the assassin bolted down an alley, running straight through the wall of flames as if they weren’t there. He hadn’t even noticed that there was something tied to his wrist. He looked down at two assassins tugging on thick metal ropes that were quickly melting and dripping onto ice to sizzle and cool. They took hesitant steps back. Victor decided he could have fun with this after all. But before he could even move, something snatched one of the assassins up into the air by the ankle and dragged her, quick as lightning, into a tussle that he missed because he blinked. When he looked again she was suspended upside down from a streetlamp with her arms tied tightly from her wrists to her shoulders behind her back. Victor watched in horror as Red skipped back and looked up at her dangling form as if he were admiring his work. “Why are y—” Victor caught himself before he snapped at the thief for his foolishness. Red should’ve taken the out! There was fire blocking his path, yes, but that hadn’t stopped the thief before. Victor had counted on Red running, but he was still here fighting and Victor wanted him to go. He spared the thief a frustrated look. Agni hadn’t mentioned assassins in his plan, let alone four assassins who were bold enough to attack during the day and mark Red’s back for the underworld to see. It wasn’t safe here and, like Yakov said, Victor was outnumbered, but here Red Specter was roping Victor into a real fight… * Confident with his knot work, Yuuri tore his eyes away from the killer he roped up like an ornament and focused instead on the two who were slowly making their way around to face him. His breath clawed in and out of him and his arms stung from where the pole hit them. But he was alive. He crouched lower as he circled with them, three wolves baring fangs at each other as their cold dance slowed to a stop. He was ready. On instinct, he lifted his left hand protectively behind him, aware that Victor was still there, but he didn’t want to stand directly in front of him; his back felt hot, but he could tell it was going to be ok since his suit took the edge off. He wasn’t upset—he knew Victor couldn’t exercise mercy here. People were watching. He, Victor, had said it in Detroit: he was the hero that had to bring Yuuri to justice. So Yuuri needed to be cautious because he didn’t want that. Not now. Not now that he had a second chance to live. He kept the fiery titan in his periphery and trained his eyes in front of him. His right hand found a knife in his belt. The killers drew theirs too and it was just like old times. Memories of training with Minako flooded back to him and washed his nerve endings in the flames of adrenaline. Suddenly, all he could see was the right shoulder of the assassin closest to him. Everything else was blurry, dim. But he could see his target, even as his breath created a thick fog in front of his face. His arm struck out like a whip, but the knife flew like a bullet. He didn’t need to look to know that it made contact. He ducked low as he threw it; good thing too—he heard the sharp clink of metal on asphalt beneath the surface of a shocked scream. He scrambled left to make their circle wider so that he could use his grappling hook. He aimed to swing from another streetlamp and flew at the killer he’d attacked. She staggered back, but Yuuri still snatched her up—something hot soared past his shoulder as he took flight— and gave her the same treatment he’d given her associate. He perched himself atop the streetlamp and looked down. A net of flames was covering the last assassin, trapping her to the ground as she flailed, trying in vain to escape. He knew from experience that those flames were hot . Her efforts were in vain.
* Yakov didn’t ask for arrests because he assumed this would be a five against one fight, Victor thought to himself as he eyed Red crouching on top of a street lamp like a black panther. Victor had suspected it would be four against one. Neither of them would’ve guessed that it would be four against two, which made things far easier. What wasn’t easy was pretending to not be thankful and impressed. It was difficult to now look at Red and smirk, baiting him to come closer so Victor could shoot him down with everything he had. He had to be prepared to use all of his strength too, because Red had made it known to the world that he was more than capable of taking it. If Victor held back too much… there would be trouble. He walked closer to the streetlamp that Red was still balancing on and smiled. “I know for a fact that you’re not afraid of monsters,” Victor said as he allowed himself to shrink back to his normal height. The nano-tech suit responded by reappearing over his body now that he was no longer a walking bonfire. “Why don’t you come down here so we can dance?”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Yuuri hesitated for a second too long; a blast of white fire came soaring for his head and he jumped down in time to avoid it. He landed in a pile of ash and snow, gasping for air. Each breath rattled in his chest and his muscles ached. He didn’t know what to do. He should’ve escaped when he had the chance. He actually had a chance before but now... This can’t be happening. It’s not real. Four more flaming jets hurtled toward him, crackling in his ear as they passed, and he had to trip out of the way. Yuuri stumbled over an electrical wire and turned to find Victor close enough to hear him breathing. He struck out to push him back but Victor was quick. Why didn’t I leave? Victor grabbed his arm, twisted him around, and forced him to his knees. I can’t do this. “I don’t suppose we can end it here,” Victor asked and Yuuri knew he had failed—on his knees with nowhere to run. Victor’s grip on his wrist felt like a branding iron heated by his own panic. He’d never felt more breakable. He had to run. Straight through the flames. That was the only option. Victor—no— Winter Torch was a five star hero and the only thing stopping him from turning Yuuri into a brisket was one star on the danger scale and a penchant for mercy. Run. In one swift movement that made his stomach roll, Yuuri twisted the joints in his arms free of their sockets allowing him a millisecond to escape Victor’s firm hold. He lurched forward and immediately came face to face with white flames, so he turned and there was Victor again, so he stepped to the side but the hero mirrored him. Sweat ran down his back as the fire got closer. Yuuri clenched his teeth as Victor slowly approached him with his hands raised. “Can we talk?” He asked cautiously and pointed at Yuuri’s chest, “about what’s in that?” Yuuri’s breath was still tearing out of him and his hands instinctively found the backpack strapped to his chest with the ruby inside. He had forgotten about it—he hadn’t even noticed how heavy it was on his shoulders until Victor mentioned it. “Can you tell me what’s going on?” Victor asked with that careful tone again, a strange look on his face; he was up to something. Just like in the mountains. Yuuri tripped over his heels to hurry backwards. His mind was working frantically for some way to escape. “Why do you have that, Red?” Because my family needs me. After everything he’d done, robbed hundreds of people and organizations, took advantage of the holiday carnage to make a profit, why should Yuuri believe that any hero would help him if he simply talked to them? No, he wasn’t falling for that—he wasn’t going to be “talked down” because, the fact of the matter was, some evils were necessary. He needed this gem. His family needed it. “Can you put it down? For a moment?” Victor asked and took a step forward again. He needn’t be so cautious. Yuuri was trapped in a ring of fire with Winter Torch which still didn’t change the fact that his family was still counting on him and still had a gun to their heads. The only way that trigger wouldn’t go off is if Yuuri fought Victor. Not to win… He wrenched the bag from his shoulders and pelted it at Victor who crossed fiery arms over his head. He didn’t need to win. Victor couldn’t see—Yuuri took that chance and sprinted forward but the ground was icy and he slid. That worked; he shot his leg out and wiped Victor off his feet. He just needed to escape. Victor fell purposefully without losing his bearings and he locked blazing white eyes on Yuuri crouching on the ground beside him. There was a split second to breathe when everything was on the ground: the bag. Victor. Yuuri. He had to fight. *
They both lunged on the same sharp intake of breath. Before Victor could even think of a spark to use, he was pulled into a close quarters fight that made him nervous. Only Lilia was quicker than Red. He was barely keeping up—he was supposed to be watching his opponent’s eyes, he knew that, but Red’s mask made that impossible. Even if he could, he was just able to follow the flurry of movement which wasn’t good; Red had super strength. He needed to be careful. He needed space too, he thought bitterly as he deflected the upteenth hand chop with his forearm. He let flames pour out of every inch of him to push Red back but it didn’t work. Victor was shocked to see his masked face so close, seemingly hovering in a curtain of white flames. Red wasn’t immune to fire though; he tried to grab Victor, got too close, and gasped when he got burned. Victor barely processed this small victory before the thief grabbed his wrists and kneed him hard to the ground. Both of his wrists were pinned to the icy asphalt on either side of his head and Victor tried not to think of the stinging pain in his side where the stitches were. Instead, he tried to move his hands only to have Red double his hold on them. But he only tightened his grip; Victor knew for a fact that Red could shatter the bones there if he so pleased, so what was the end game here? There was none, he decided when Red spent another second helplessly doing nothing, so he laughed. “I’ll give you three seconds,” he said, “Three, two, one.” He heated up like a burning coal, and this time Red did scream but he didn’t let go. He had to pull himself free from Red’s shaking hands; he pushed him off and jumped to his feet, but there Red was again, swinging with the strength and determination of someone who hadn’t just been burned. Victor could hear Lilia barking directives at him: Protect your vitals! Mind your weak points! It was nearly impossible to think of those things as he tried to get a step ahead of the dizzying barrage of attacks Red rained down on him. And he kept getting close! No one, not even Pyre, dared to try hand to hand to hand combat with Victor. He could think of several reasons why; he ducked away from a swift kick as his mind raced to find ways to subdue the thief without causing permanent damage. The only thing he could do was flare up whenever Red laid hands on him, forcing him to jump away like a kid who’d just touched a hot stove. No one ever tried to physically knock Victor down so the truth was, he was out of practice. He threw a right hook, but it was too slow; Red grabbed his arm, spun him around, and kicked his back so that he fell forward on his knees. Grunting in pain, he whipped around to see Red sprinting for the discarded backpack—he slammed his hand on the ground and let his power flow down his arm, out his palm, and into the earth. The road cracked and hissed as fire snaked below the surface to burst free and consume the backpack in a white inferno. Red stumbled away and Victor struggled to his feet, clutching his stitches. As the flames died, it was clear that the ruby had survived; the gem was so brilliant that the white flames threw rosy prisms of light onto the wreckage around them. It was blinding and enormous. Without the backpack, Red wasn’t taking it anywhere without knocking Victor out first. Just like that, he’d gotten distracted and forgotten how quick the thief was: one second, there was a mask and the next, his jaw was screaming with pain and his vision was blurry. He screwed his eyes shut, trying to get his bearings—he felt the precise shape of Red’s fist on his face. He heard quickly retreating footsteps. I should let him go...right? Even Yakov told him he didn’t expect any arrests. This would be a win even if he did let Red go. But he wasn’t trying to win. No, he remembered as his body took it upon itself to combust in flames; when it came to Red, it was never about winning a fight. He made the ring of fire arch up and close above them to form an inescapable dome. Agni had asked him— begged him— to help Red. He had to believe that this was his last chance to do that. He opened his eyes to see that Red had stopped and was craning his neck at the obscured sky above them. “I asked you nicely before to talk to me,” Victor said and Red jumped as he turned around. It hurt to talk, but what else was new? “I’m asking you again, not so nicely this time but, you’ve gotta give me credit for asking.” Red stepped away. Victor wondered what he looked like. Was he scared or livid? Panicked maybe? The thief’s foot found a soft mound of snow and he looked down at it. He bent down, but before Red could throw himself into it, Victor caught on; he swept his hand out in a flat line in front of him and all the snow melted under white fire. Red stood up again and took several more hurried steps back. “You’re clever,” Victor complimented but he realized that Red would never realize that it was genuine, “and you’ve got a lot of guts. Most people wouldn’t think to coat themselves in the snow to escape through the fire. It wouldn’t keep you from getting hurt, but it would definitely take the edge off, at least until you got to the other side.” Water sizzled around them until it evaporated, making a thick fog, heavy with the scent of ash. Red Specter pulled out his grappling hook and shot it through the wall of fire but it quickly became too hot and the thief’s strangled cry made Victor’s stomach twist as the thing fell from his gloved hand. This was why he preferred ice over fire. Ice didn’t have to hurt… all he could do was watch Red clutch his hand to his chest as his screams subsided into labored breathing. “How about I start,” Victor said. “It’s only fair that I be honest with you since I’m asking the same of you. I wish I could thank you more for what you did in Detroit,” he began, not caring if the civilians behind the wall of fire could hear. “I wish I could thank you more for saving all those people in the freight truck. For saving those people who were trapped in the sewer. For… for saving the Chelseas from that fire...” he said in a softer tone. He noticed how rigid Red became when he mentioned the name. “you shouldn’t be so surprised. Four star villains are always thoroughly investigated and, in my opinion, we found more good than bad. I wish I could thank you for all the selfless good you’ve done so… will you let me?” It was like Red wasn’t even listening; he scuttled away like a wounded animal straight into the fire— the fire! Victor had been clear! But there was nothing he could do when Red howled in agony again and fell back. “Please!” Victor begged with his hand outstretched, “Stop doing that! You know I can’t let you go, so just—” Red lunged for the pile of electric cables, snatched two up, and lashed them out like whips. Victor raised his arms, a reflex, and both of his wrists got tangled in the mess. He was lassoed up in the blink of an eye. His heart pounded as he tried to pull himself free, but Red yanked hard on both of them and a sickening pop made him cry out. “Gaaah!” He gasped for air and tried not to succumb to the rolling pain in his shoulders which suddenly felt nauseatingly heavy on his body. They were dislocated, and it wasn’t the first time that this had happened to him but it was torture all the same. He gripped the insulated cables in his hands and set them on fire because it was all he could do; he burned it down to the wire and when skin met copper, he knew he’d made a mistake. A terrible creeping sensation flooded him, seizing him in a prickly grip that squeezed his very nerve endings; his jaw clenched up and his neck stiffened as his vision darkened. His blood grew hot, hotter than it had ever been, and he thought that it would burn him from the inside out. He thought he would die. He fought to take control of the heat, to push it out. Trillions of needles, pin pricks of energy, threatened to overwhelm him until he managed to force all of that energy into his palms and back into the wire. He fell on his hands and knees. A horrible ringing filled his ears as his vision slowly came back to him. Something strange was happening: thin streams of color sparked about his hands on the asphalt. His heart was racing a mile a minute. He wanted to throw up. And there was something else… the ringing was starting to clear and there was another, far off sound. Dry, choked… it made him feel cold. What was that? He found the strength to look up and his eyes fell on Red Specter. His spine was arched back, his head torn to an uncomfortable angle, and his arms were curled up towards his chest with the wires hanging limply in his fists while his entire body was wracked with tremors. The dry, choked sound got louder… He’s screaming… Victor’s thoughts were coming too slow, he still didn’t know what that meant—why was he screaming?—but some innate instinct and fear told him that he had done the worst possible thing. Something that couldn’t be fixed.
No.
He tried to get to his feet but he fell back to his knees. His muscles were spent. He heard sobbing and tears came to his own eyes at the sound. No! He forced himself upright, and the agony... The pain would surely end him, but later. Right now, he needed to get to Red. He needed to fix his mistake. He hadn’t meant to! He didn’t even know it was possible—the wires weren’t even attached to the transformer, so how? How had this happened?! Red Specter fell silent, dropped to his knees, and Victor ran. He didn’t get to him before the thief dropped fully on the ground, his masked face slamming against the asphalt. “NO!” He fell next to him and scooped him up into his useless, shaking arms. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know who could help him and he was sitting alone, helpless, with a dying man in his arms. A man who he had electrocuted. A man who he was supposed to be helping. “No, no, no, no, no! Please! Somebody help!” He bit a glove off of his hand—it was glowing more than usual—and pressed two fingers into Red’s neck to find a pulse. Nothing. But that could’ve been the suit—it had to be because Red couldn’t die. He leaned down close to Red’s mouth to listen for any signs of breathing and he just couldn’t hear anything. Nothing, but there had to be something! “HELP!” The flames around them vanished and he looked pleadingly at the shop front faces as the civilians were all still trapped inside, waiting for it to be safe again. Some of them had given up on looking out of the window since the wall of fire went up, but they were back again now that Victor was calling to them. “I NEED A DOCTOR!” he shouted. But the fire had revealed more than just the surrounding buildings: police cars and ambulances had piled up in the streets, waiting for their cue, and a slew of emergency response workers descended on him in a dizzying rush. Someone took Red from his arms and the last ounce of common sense left in him allowed it because he hadn’t really wanted to let go, but what could he do? “Help him! He’s not breathing! Why isn’t he breathing?!” He didn’t even fully understand what he was yelling at them because all he felt was fear and anguish. And he was frustrated because someone, two someones, were pulling him further away, and he eventually found that he was sitting on something. “Were you hurt?” Someone asked. “Please tell me you can help him! I think he’s been—I think I electrocuted him! Please—” “Oooh, this is nasty. Deep breath,” someone else said and his shoulders cracked so hard that it was a wonder he didn’t vomit right then and there. “Good job.” He doubled over and gasped for air. This whole time, he hadn’t been able to see well and he realized it was because he had been crying. He didn’t know what he looked like crying while powered up. It had never happened to him before. Could the paramedics see his real eye color? He blinked the tears away and tried to get up; they had somehow lifted him on the sitting edge of an ambulance. “Woah there,” someone said and grabbed his arm but he gently pulled himself free. “Come on, let’s take you to the hospital. The police can handle clean-up here.” “I still have work to do,'' he said, trying to spot Red in the confusion of medical personnel. There was another ambulance in front of the one he was at, swarmed with paramedics. That had to be him. “Hey, Winter Torch!” He stopped walking before he had really begun and turned to the officer who had called for him. “Help me out with this one?” He pointed at the assassin that Victor had trapped in a net of fire—it seemed eons ago when he had done it. He had forgotten about them all, dangling from telephone poles and stuck with nowhere to run. Because Red had helped him. This one was shrieking obscenities and thrashing in her cage. He sighed and asked the officer to hand over the nano-cuffs. He still felt prickly and sick, but he tried to work the cuffs on quickly so he could go see Red. When he snapped them on and got up, paramedics began shouting. Several guns were drawn and officers shouted for someone to get on the ground—one of the assassins must’ve escaped their restraints. He whipped his head around for the cause of the commotion, and sure enough, someone clad in black stumbled forward and fell on their knees. But… in his periphery, there were still two dangling, thrashing cocoons, exactly where he and Red had left them… “Red?” He whispered in disbelief and then “Don’t shoot!” because they were all shouting and surrounding him. He rushed forward, pushing a police officer out of the way, and his heart dropped when he heard the thick sound of bending metal as Red disappeared before his eyes. “What?! No…” He stammered and almost fell into the pit in the ground; Red had punched a hole straight through the manhole cover. He was in the sewers… Without thinking, he jumped in after him. He landed with a splash and started running towards the sounds of Red’s clumsy footsteps. He wasn’t that far off. Victor could catch him, convince him to stay so the doctors could help him. So he could help him… “Come back!” He called desperately ahead of him, panting, measuring his breaths, thinking about his stitches, but he couldn’t even feel his pain anymore. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt you like that! Please—” he slid and stopped when he saw Red. Bending over to catch his breath, he still didn’t dare to look away. The thief’s back was pressed flush against the tunnel wall, arms splayed out on either side of him and he was looking at something in a tunnel to Victor’s right. “Red,” he panted, his voice echoing horribly around them. But he hesitated at Red’s frantic hand waving. He raised a shaking finger to his lips and then pointed silently to the tunnel in front of him. His echoing pleas vanished. The sound of splashing did too. All that was left was a deep gravelly humming. It was an unnatural sound, almost like the amplified din of an angry rattlesnake and Victor could smell something more vile than raw sewage in the air: the gem dragon. Red slowly sunk down the wall until he was sitting in the rank water. He looked exhausted… he looked like he was giving up. Victor slowly ignited his hands and stalked silently forward because he figured the beast must be sleeping. He waved at Red, signaling him to run and he shook his head. He waved again, insistent this time, because he couldn’t protect Red if he got in the way. Victor could trap him, but that clearly wasn’t the way. Victor was tired of hurting him. Red had to decide to go with him willingly. So until that time… He threw a curve ball of fire down the monster’s tunnel as if he were pitching in a game, and the flames grew into a door, blocking the alien monstrosity from Red. It woke up immediately with an ear splitting screech. “You’re either coming with me or you’re leaving!” He yelled to Red. “Make up your mind! What’s it going to be?” Please don’t go. Red’s dark mask was illuminated by the curtain of fire in front of him, a dark patch on the grey walls. He hung his head for a moment and Victor wondered with a pang how badly he was hurt. But then, with what seemed like a great deal of effort, he crawled to his knees and then to his feet to hobble away. Victor sighed. It took everything in him not to run after him and carry him back to the surface. He directed his frustration at the gem dragon; the wall of fire was, of course, intact and effective in driving the thing backwards. But that wasn’t enough. He didn’t want it in the sewers anymore—he didn’t want there to be any chance of it coming across Red and hurting him. When he turned down the tunnel, walking directly through his own fire, he came face to ugly face with the dragon. It was the same one as before, scarred and eyeless. It roared at him, sending flecks of thick spittle everywhere. “Let’s find you a nice cage, shall we?”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Yuuri watched murky green water slosh around his wrists as he crawled through the sewer river. Every muscle trembled and jerked. They were both worn out and wound too tight. Breathing was difficult. It didn’t matter how much Yuuri tried to take in more air. Whenever he did, his lungs shuddered and stopped. He felt heavier without the ruby strapped to him. The city was above him, loud and rumbling and its weight was enormous on his back. Victor had let him go but Yuuri hardly saw any point in that. He had nothing to return to. The ruby would be taken in for evidence and locked away in the vault. It was exactly what he’d told Lam wouldn’t happen. He had no idea how to explain
this
to him. Phichit wasn’t there to clean up this mess either...A muscle in his arm spasmed and his strength left him; he fell hard on his shoulder. It was a while before he finally forced himself onto his back. Looking up, he noticed a faint pink light radiating from somewhere far down the tunnel.
His palms ached and he knew they would burn once they were out of the water. His knees were screaming because he hadn’t kept track of how long he had been crawling, but it must’ve been for a long, long time; the pink light, now dark with the magenta of a young night, was coming from behind a large sewer grate like the one he had tried keep shut against a gem dragon months before.
Actually it
was
the sewer grate that he had held up months before. Because it was welded shut. By Victor. He moaned in anguish and tried in vain to tighten his weak grip on the bars. Of all the places he could’ve wound up at it
had
to be the one exit in the city that was welded shut by fire hotter than a burning star. He needed to bend them, even if just a little. He just wanted to go home. Tears fell frantically down his face and then faster when the coming sobs made it even more difficult to breathe. He felt like he was suffocating and it scared him.
“Help…” he tried to scream, but it came out as a whisper and his hands slipped slowly from the bars until he was back on all fours. He didn’t even know who he was calling to—there was no point because who would be listening? Shoving his arm through one of the openings, a small, foolish part of him urged him to squeeze the rest of his body through, but he knew that it was impossible. His arm dangled pitifully on the outside and he closed his eyes to try to think of a better way. Maybe he’d sleep here...his strength might come back in the morning…
Someone was whispering. Yuuri imagined it was Phichit. Phichit sounded shocked but he was keeping his voice down. Maybe he didn’t want anyone to hear him—he probably knew Victor was somewhere in the sewer too. Phichit knew everything.
Help, please,
Yuuri said with the last of his strength.
I’m so sorry, but please…
His throat hurt. He wondered if Phichit could hear him, but he knew he must look like a wreck so it hardly mattered. Phichit would get it. Something shifted underneath him and he felt his body drop so he opened his eyes.
The sky was still dark purple. He must not have been asleep for too long. Someone was gently untangling his arm from the sewer grate and dragging him through freezing water into some grass. Yuuri blinked to clear the blurry film over his eyes. It was dark, but he could make out a mask and bright, green eyes. He was saying something… how long had his ears been ringing?
“...look awful!”
Now, this wasn’t Phichit. The mask was all wrong. The eyes. The voice. This wasn’t his friend. Loss stamped a heavy foot on his chest at the realization. He was wrong.
“Where does it hurt?” The voice was now much more clear to Yuuri and he knew exactly who this was; rage flooded him and he sat straight up, pain tearing through him as he did. Chris held up a hand as if to slow Yuuri down and he slapped it away.
“Where were you?”
“I—”
“WHERE WERE YOU?!” he bellowed, barely recognizing his own voice as his throat filled with blood from the strain. Chris had backed up but Yuuri wanted him close so he could hit him.
“I was being followed! I told you before that doing this in broad daylight would be tricky but—”
“No,” Yuuri shook his head and boosted himself up to stand on wobbly legs. “You sold me out.”
“What?! Why would—”
“I lost everything because of you!” Yuuri raged at him as the night grew darker. But his vision was clearing up bit by bit. It really was the same spot he had first encountered Winter Torch. He could just make out a familiar car a little ways away and it only made him angrier. “What, so you’ve just been camping out here while I was nearly killed?”
“You can’t ask a five star international jewel thief to sit in traffic in
broad daylight
minutes after a robbery! Whoever was following me could’ve intercepted any calls I made to you if they were close enough. You knew the risk, love. You—”
“Give me your car keys,”
Yuuri ordered holding his hand out and Chris immediately obeyed. But Yuuri wasn’t quite in control—the force of his power flooding through him in this state was like a swift punch in the gut and he felt sea sick. Hand still raised in front of him, he closed a tight fist on the keys and watched Chris. His eyes were hazy, cheeks flushed. His mouth hung slightly open as if he were daydreaming.
“Tell me if you have clothes in that car.”
“I do have clothes in that car,” Chris revealed in a flat, dreamy whisper.
“Good,”
Yuuri gave Chris' chest a quick gentle push which toppled him over like a plastic soldier,
“now sit.”
*
Victor knocked softly on Lilia’s office door.
“Come in,” she called, so he did. While Yakov’s office felt like a cage despite the large painting of the city displayed behind the desk, Lilia’s felt cozy and protected with its cushy sofa and little potted plants in the corners. Although, it still felt a bit clinical without all the windows, almost like a therapist’s office. Lilia was sitting behind her desk, glasses perched on the tip of her long thin nose which was turned down at a newspaper. She didn’t look up from her article when he came in. “How can I help you, Victor,” she asked.
“I… I was wondering about today…” he began as he took a seat on the couch in front of her desk. “Did you hear about the ninjas?”
“Not ninjas, dear, assassins,” she corrected airily, still scanning her newspaper. “And yes, I did hear about that little scuffle. Well done.”
“Well, I only made three arrests…”
“Even so, you were only ordered to frighten them off. And what’s more, you safely subdued a gem-dragon. We must give credit where credit is due.” She flipped her newspaper down to peer at Victor over her glasses. “How are your injuries?”
“Uh, they’re fine,” he said looking down at his hands to reconfirm his condition with his own body. “I actually feel… much better.”
Lilia’s eyebrows wrinkled at that—Yakov wasn’t the only one who was upset when Victor got hurt after his meetup with Agni. “I was informed that your shoulders were dislocated. Was that of your own volition or…?”
“Ah, no, that was just the unfortunate outcome of over negotiating I guess,” Victor explained but she still looked worried. Well, worried for
Lilia.
“I really am fine though… something happened today with my powers… and I think it may have healed me. I can’t be sure,” he said as he thought about the colorful sparks his hands were emitting.
“Well, according to you, that wouldn’t be the first time your powers did that for you. Your abilities are bound to evolve the more you use them. It’s the mark of an accomplished hero,” she sniffed and looked back at her newspaper.
“I, uh, thank you,” Victor swallowed awkwardly, guessing that there wasn’t much more to say on the matter. They sat in what he felt like was an uncomfortable silence while she read her paper and Victor searched for a way to bring up the other thing that was haunting him. Deciding that there was no pretty way of beginning, he just started talking. “I actually had a question. When I arrived, the assassins were chasing Red Specter. They caught him and marked his back with a red pig. I know there’s an assassin’s clan that uses a similar mark…” he screwed his eyes shut to think of the clan’s name, “The Red Lotus?”
“The Black Lily, Victor.”
“Yeah, that’s the one,” he snapped his fingers when he recognized the name, “and that clan was founded by Guild alumni, right?”
“Very keen of you. I suppose you were paying attention when I taught you about the Guild? Or at least what I’m
allowed
to teach you...” she noted with very little discernible interest as she continued to read. She seemed to reach a good stopping point as she sighed, folded the article, and placed it neatly in front of her before knitting her fingers together atop its pages. “You wouldn’t be privy to Guild affairs, Victor, but the four you met today seem to be members of a renegade group of young assassins. They were originally members of the Black Lily but they were unhappy with the rules of the clan and broke off to form their own… association. It’s far too early to refer to what they have as a clan and I haven’t the foggiest idea what they’ve decided to name themselves. They’re simply unruly children throwing a temper tantrum, if you ask me.”
“How do you know they’re from the Black Lily clan?” Victor asked as he leaned in, intrigued in spite of the fear that was prodding him from behind his ribs.
“You mentioned the mark of a pig, did you not? The calling card of a Black Lily assassin is the mark of a red eye on their target’s body. The mark signals other Lilies to kill the target if the original assassin fails to do so themselves. It also lets other clans know that the marked target is off limits. But these defectors have made a mark of their own: the pig. It’s a slap in the face to the Lilies, really—they’re disrespecting everything their mother clan has done for them. It’s all any Guild alumni is talking about these days. There have been some mentions of a war,” she rolled her eyes lazily as she plucked a speck of dust from her cuff. “It won’t come to that. The piglets are young and inexperienced. They will eventually come to their senses if they aren’t killed first.”
“But they still
graduated
from the Guild, right? They’re still pretty dangerous.”
“Well, of course,” Lilia puffed with just a hint of pride.
“Red Specter was marked as a pig…” the bright red mark was still bothering him. “Does that mean others will be after him?”
“I’m afraid so, dear,” she commented as if she were confirming that there would be rain that evening. “Although I can’t be sure of this new group’s exact targeting rules. I suppose it’s fair to surmise that the pigs are copying the Lilies. That being said, we really should be adding that detail to Red Specter’s file… an assassin’s marking is nothing to trifle with. Pursuing him could be dangerous for less experienced heroes.”
“But I burned the mark off of him!” Victor blurted, “No one saw it!”
Lilia’s face was as impassive as steel, but she still raised a cold eyebrow at him and it sent a chill down his back. “You what?” She whispered, barely parting her lips.”
“I—I got rid of it,” he mumbled.
“And what, pray tell, possessed you to do something so foolish?”
“I’m a
hero,
” he asserted and Lilia scoffed, her steel mask cracking as she rolled her eyes impatiently, “I’m not supposed to just let an elite assassin paint a bullseye on someone’s back, even if that someone
is
a thief.”
“I suppose you think that’s true,” she said through tight lips.
Victor stood up in anger. “You weren’t there! He saved two people from getting killed
while
he was trying to protect himself. And then again when an assassin dropped an electrical pole that could’ve leveled a building filled with civilians! He could have dodged! Actually, he could’ve been
long gone
before that even happened since I clearly wasn’t trying to take anyone in. But he put his own life on the line to stay and help!”
“I see.”
“Oh, but it seems like you’re just trying to placate me,” he snapped because something dangerous and idiotic had emboldened him to speak so recklessly. He was already on thin ice with his parents… but Lilia only laughed.
It was short and humorless, but still a laugh. She shook her head and sat back in her seat. “I wish someone would placate me at my age. Just the thought,” she mused and unfolded her newspaper again. “But no, dear, I am not placating you. I understand you perfectly.”
Victor eyed her with caution as she licked a thumb and flicked back to her saved page.
“What is it that you understand?”
“I understand, Victor, that you
are
a hero and it’s high time that I allow you to make your own decisions as one. You are well past the age of receiving advice, it seems and, after all, experience is a far better teacher than I could ever be.”
“Lilia,” Victor sighed and his shoulders slumped as he became irritated, “you know that’s not what I mean. I never said that I don’t need your advice—”
“I never said you did. I’m simply acknowledging the undeniable
fact
that you are perfectly capable of being a hero. And besides, there is hardly any use in discussing the choice you’ve made because what’s done is done. We can not change the past. I’m assuming this Red Specter is unscathed?”
Victor sighed as he thought about the moment that sunk his heart—the moment when he realized he had unintentionally electrocuted Red. Victor could still hear him screaming… “I’m not sure, but...probably.”
“Oh, well that’s good news, isn’t it, son,” she said with the airy, distant tone of someone who was
definitely
placating him. “Yet another win for the heroes. Well, if there isn’t anything else I can help with... ”
“That’s all,” he rolled his eyes at the newspaper, “I can see you’re busy catching up on politics.”
She flicked the corner of her paper down and peered at him. “Would you
like
my advice?” Victor held his hands up, gesturing for her to continue. “Well, Victor. If you are intimidated by
me,
your own mother, then you should be petrified by the Guild alumni who call themselves assassins and have no familial ties to you.” At the end of her sentence, she snapped the article back up. Lilia, Victor thought, had a knack for making him feel guilty. He wondered if every mother was the same.
“Well,” he said, his hand on the doorknob, ready to leave, “if that’s all, when you have time, let me know what the
Daily Eagle
has to say about this year’s elections,” he pointed an accusatory finger at the newspaper that was, at the moment, a better door than anything.
“Nothing new, I’m sure. I was actually in the middle of a disturbing article about a drowning kelpie, so,” she waved her hand at Victor to dismiss him.
*
Yuuri’s hands were shaking so terribly that he couldn’t get the key in his door. He swore loudly and the thing opened as if he had called it “sesame.” It was Laszlo. The con artist opened his mouth to say something but Yuuri pushed him out of the way before he could get it out. He stumbled forward and found himself supporting his weight with trembling arms against the kitchen sink. He became violently sick. It was all he could do to reach up and turn on the faucet to let the water pour over his head and into the sink when he was done. He hung on the edge there like a dirty dish towel, shuddering.
“I got you a smoothie! It’s in the fridge.”
Yuuri didn’t think he understood what Laszlo said until he heard the refrigerator open and close. He moaned and pushed away from the sink to escape to his room (he fell and rolled over the couch onto the floor in an attempt to avoid hitting the end table). He tore Chris’ clothes off of him and the soiled stealth suit came next. A quick glance over his skin told him it had saved him from any serious burns but he still felt the scorching heat of them eating away at his nerves.
There was nothing much that he could do for his injuries: no hospitals, no pharmacies, no Phichit with a magic serum. His skin was burned and bruised but the latter would heal with time and the former was not so severe that it needed urgent medical attention no matter how much agony it caused him. The only thing he could think to do was to collapse into a bath of tepid water. He uncapped a bottle of an aloe solution and dropped the thing in the water, too exhausted to pour it out. He sank down and closed his eyes to think, but when he did he saw white fire and piles of ash lining a deserted street. He saw Victor. Even in the safety of his home he still felt trapped—the weight of the ruby was still heavy on his shoulders even though it was long gone.
Breathing was difficult, a side effect of being electrocuted. He could barely move without his muscles spasming terribly. He wouldn’t be able to do anything about the rubies in the vault until he had healed. His mind started buzzing and his skin itched with anxiety at all the mistakes he had made, all the solutions that he needed but couldn’t make happen on his own: the rubies, his promise to Lam, the uncertainty of when he needed to pay Fujiwara next… he didn’t even know what he needed to worry about more. His parents told him to trust Lam, but that trust came with strings, strings that he, Yuuri, had snipped by letting Victor claim yet another Orion piece. There was no telling if it was even safe for him to be home right now. What if Phichit wasn’t safe because of him?
He startled at a knock on the bathroom door. “Yuuri?” It was Laszlo. His voice exhausted Yuuri and he sank further down into the tub. Just how far was this guy taking his “innocent roommate” act? Couldn’t he take a hint? Before he could tell him to go away, the door opened.
“What the—what’s wrong with you?!” He yelled, straining his throat as he tried to scoot further into the edge of the tub to give himself some privacy. “
Get out!”
Yuuri pelted the bottle of aloe with all of his strength at Laszlo. It hit him in the chest but he wasn’t fazed; he walked deliberately to the middle of the bathroom, held up a foam cup, and set it gingerly on the tile within Yuuri’s reach.
“Smoothie,” he said simply then left. Yuuri swore loudly, snatched the cup up and threw it at the shut door where it burst in an ugly orange splatter.
“GET OUT!” He cried, and the tears didn’t stop after the first one escaped the dam. His lungs constricted with the sobs and his body was wracked with another spasm; he tried to stop it,
all
of it because it was just too painful. All he could do was draw his knees up to his chest and hide his face in his arms.
Help me.
He whispered the words into the crook of his elbow to let the world know that he was lost and nothing made sense anymore. There was no use in thinking of plans. There was nothing he could do. He was powerless and out of options which meant his family was too. They were all as good as dead. He sucked in a rattling breath and tried to wipe his tears away. He at least needed to get up to call his parents. They deserved to know… the sooner the better. Maybe they had an escape plan he didn’t know about in case he failed. He sat up straighter and turned when a glitter by the door caught his eye. There, lying in the terrible, orange smoothie splatter, were three familiar phials of glimmering liquid.
*
When Phichit found Chris by the sewer grate, he was sprawled out on the grass gazing at the stars. This alarmed Phichit, but Chris informed him that he was ok, that Yuuri hadn’t hurt him, and he simply had nowhere to go while he was still in his DC costume with no car. Phichit laid down next to him—as of late, he found that he had been feeling more tired than usual. It was an uncomfortable spot to lay in though, especially since the ground had frozen over with snow, and when Phichit told Chris so, the thief only chuckled to himself and told him that he had chosen the spot at random. They talked; Chris assured him that Yuuri was beat up but would live, and they discussed the ninjas who inexplicably attacked Yuuri during the day.
It was all strange and distressing and Phichit felt guilty for not accounting for any of these changes: for the ninjas, Chris’ tail, for Yuuri
escaping
even after being electrocuted. His mind was slipping into another avalanche of anxious thought and calculations when Chris kicked him in the thigh.
“That’s enough,” Chris chided and Phichit wrinkled his nose at him; he hadn’t said anything.
“Enough of what?”
“I can
hear
you overthinking things and it’s ruining an otherwise beautiful night.”
Phichit scoffed. “How can you be so cavalier when you just got robbed by a dying man? Some world class thief you are.”
“He’s not
dying.
There’s only room for one drama queen in my life, so spare me…” Chris said. Phichit listened to him turn over on the crunchy earth to look at him. “He’s good, though. You didn’t tell me he was that good… I never knew
that
was his ability. He doesn’t use his power often, am I correct?”
“No, he doesn’t.”
“You would think it would save him some time.”
Phichit laughed and covered his face with his forearm. “Do you wanna tell him that for me?”
“Shall we talk about something else, little runner?” When Phichit shrugged, Chris got to his feet. He was shaky though, and almost fell over which made Phichit wonder just how much Yuuri had affected him. He soon got his bearings and bent down to offer Phichit his hand which he accepted. “How does your power work?”
“I’m fast,” Phichit said and he handed over the satchel of fresh clothes he brought with him. He turned to give him privacy. “That’s it.”
“Do you think fast?” Chris asked from behind him.
“I have nothing to compare my thinking speed to so…”
“How many things are you thinking about in detail right now?”
The dry crunch of frozen grass beneath his boots, the smell of something burning in the cold air wafting from somewhere in the city—a bonfire, no doubt in celebration of the coming holiday, the location of the gem dragon Victor had captured today and that location’s security system, eight phone numbers he knew by heart that he would exchange with one Roger Lemming who would be providing Chris with a new car, a deal involving his own blood that he will be making with the prick doctor in the Alps, Victor’s birthday party, the carpet factory, Yuuri, the future, how slow he was—
“I don’t know,” Phichit shrugged.
“Too many to count?” Chris chuckled when Phichit shrugged again. “How do you keep track of it all?”
“Not well, it seems. I started keeping a journal and everything.”
“Am I in it?”
Phichit turned around to be sure Chris could see him rolling his eyes but the thief only smirked back at him, clearly prepared for the retort that was coming. “Oh
yeah,
I wrote ‘Dick’ in big bubble letters and scribbled hearts around it.”
“It feels good to finally be appreciated by someone,” he played along as he finished buttoning up his large winter coat and gave it a final appraising tug. “I truly wish we had become acquainted sooner. You could have saved me a
fortune
on airline tickets with that speed.”
“You’d have me carry you across an ocean?” Phichit laughed as he tilted his head in the direction of the path back into town. “How strong do you think I am?”
“How heavy do you think
I
am?”
“I realize that you’ve been dazzled with the possibilities of my one of a kind ability, but you should know that everything comes with its limitations. Your neck would snap from the whiplash.”
“Mmm, I don’t know,” Chris hummed as he kicked a rock along the frosted path, “something tells me I’d be very safe in your arms…”
Phichit wasn’t so much paying attention to Chris’ incessant flirting as he was remembering how nerve-wracking it was to carry Yuuri at high speed the few times that he had done it. It required careful support in the proper places, a firm grip, and a great deal of focus. Focus… something that he didn’t quite understand as his mind always felt as if several hundred tabs were open, active, and rapidly accomplishing different tasks in order to welcome in a new project. Adrenaline and fear had brought Yuuri to safety before—there was no other explanation. He could barely shut down the part of his mind that counted the number of cricket chirps at night. If he couldn’t focus enough to safely carry someone at high speed in his own timeline, how did he expect to cross over into different timelines?
Focus.
He grunted and shoved his hands further into his pockets.
“Did I go too far,” he started a bit at Chris; he knew that he wasn’t alone and someone was talking, but he was never good at paying attention to how long he had been silent while someone was speaking to him.
“I—uh—no, it’s fine. You’re fine. But,” he tipped up to the edge of his question but backed away, letting it fade into a sigh.
“It’s not every day that my friends can ask me for advice and I daresay you’d be wasting a golden opportunity if you didn’t speak your mind now, while you know you can.” Phichit felt him watching him and tried to laugh.
“You’re only saying that because none of your other friends know how to find you.”
“Even so,” he shrugged. “You can ask me anything and I’ll decide if I want to answer.”
“It’s nothing,” Phcihit said as he led Chris back into town along the shoulder of a sleeping highway where they would wait for Chris’ ride. “I mean, I guess I’m just curious.”
“Curious?”
“About how you manage to control your power. How you’re able to focus…”
“How, indeed. It’s a bit difficult to explain. But I suppose I’d say that if I allow my mind to relax and just
feel
my surroundings, the precise shape and weight of the metals around me become palpable in my head. As if my mind has a hand of its own, searching, pulling and manipulating the metals that it can reach.”
“Yes, but
how?”
Phichit prodded,
“How,
do you let your mind relax? Do you meditate or do yoga or just close your eyes?”
“Perhaps when I was first learning how to use my powers I did those things, some more than others,” he trailed off, valiantly trying to keep an impartial expression. “Before, in Lanzarote, I really did find a harpoon. It was quite far out, I could barely feel it, but I knew what it was. That required more concentration.”
Phichit remembered how Chris had closed his eyes and fallen silent when they were together in the sea. It had taken him just a few seconds to find something miles away from him. “What do you think about when you’re focusing?”
“Nothing in particular. Relaxing, remember?”
“Well, no one can think of
nothing!”
He turned suddenly to him, his scarf whipping his own face as he did.
“I beg on my knees to differ,” Chris laughed.
“Absolutely nothing? Not even…” he struggled for a word, any word from the waterfall of examples that had rushed to his aide in the forefront of his mind—it didn’t make sense to list them
all,
not for someone with a
normal
brain. “The clothes you’re wearing? The… the feeling of the food you just ate in your stomach? Nothing?”
Chris gave him a weird look, “What reason would I have to be thinking about my clothes?”
“Because they’re
on
you! You can feel them!”
“Yes, but they’re of no consequence.”
“Everything is of consequence!”
“Ok,” Chris laughed softly again, and though it wasn’t cruel, it still irritated Phichit because the sound implied that Chris was the one making sense. “It’s clear that our brains are wired differently. And there’s nothing wrong with that, love. But that being said, if you’re concerned about focusing, what works for me, will not necessarily work for you. I require a bit of time and peace of mind to concentrate. Others may require something more, a tool of some sort.”
“A tool?”
“Yes. For example, some people use noise cancelling headphones to concentrate on their work or even to sleep. You need to find what works for you… although, it seems to me that you have a fantastic grip on your own abilities. I have never met another speedster so I can’t make any comparisons, but you can count me impressed so far.”
“It’s not enough,” Phichit said quickly and realized too late how self deprecating it sounded. His cheeks felt hot and he decided to pretend to look up the highway for the car.
“Mhmm, well I’m an advocate for self improvement, but I think you’ll sooner find success if you build on your strengths rather than agonize over your weaknesses. Use what you’re good at now to find a solution to… whatever problem you may have. I don’t know
exactly
how fast you want to go—fast enough to get to the moon, perhaps—but it’s not like you’re the only speedster in the world that has encountered the problem you’re having. And if other people can figure out how to speed up, you certainly can.”
“Do you usually have such confidence in strangers?” Now that Chris’ ride was in sight, Phichit guessed he didn’t have much reason to look for it anymore; when he looked back at Chris, he found him with a strange sort of expression that made him seem, for the first time that Phichit had known him, awkward. Perhaps just as awkward as Phichit himself felt.
“I guess I’m just in the practice of giving out advice…”
“To Victor?” It was Chris’ turn to look away and he chose to gaze intently at the skyline.
“To the adorably helpless and confused,” he mumbled back.
“To Victor, then,” he nodded and Chris laughed at his teasing. “What other sage wisdom do you have for me? I treasure information, you know. It’s my trade.”
“How about... know when to rip off the bandaid? In any situation. From what I’ve gathered, it’s difficult for you to do what you
know
is the right thing to do. You’re always focusing on what could go wrong. I must say, you put up an impressive act and I can imagine you have even Yuuri fooled but…” he trailed off as the car slowed to a stop and Phichit stepped forward to greet Roger from his window. When Phichit held the door open for Chris, he continued, “you’re more pessimistic than you appear.”
“So the solution to my problems,” he said as he shut the door behind Chris and leaned on the open window, “is to rely on my strengths.”
“Yes, your strengths. Intel, hacking, bullying helpless criminals… whatever it is you find pleasure in,” Chris said with a sly smile, “I’m sure you’ll find a way to make it work with the resources you have now. You’ve probably raced past your answer without even realizing it.”
And then it hit him like a brick in the face. There was no real reason why the revelation should have struck so suddenly and with such violent, overwhelming force, but it did. Which word did it—what made him realize?
Raced past…
it must’ve been then, because yes, he had run past trillions of things in his life, all of them undeserving of his attention, or so he thought, yet still stored in the very back of his mind as seemingly benign records. He’d run past trillions of things just that morning when he should’ve been stopping to listen, to pay
attention.
He beamed at Chris, even though the rush of combatting emotions were too quick and too strong for even him to process in that space of time; he felt the distinct prickling tinge of anger though. It lingered and mingled with the disgust that crept up next. It must’ve shown on his face, even under the smile, because Chris looked alarmed.
“If I ever see you in person again,” he said, “be sure to remind me that I owe you the world’s biggest favor.”
“W-what?”
“Take care of Yuuri for me,” he said and sped off.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Phichit was well aware of just how unprofessional he was being at the moment—busting into the doctor’s lab without any warning, without arranging a meeting beforehand. But he wasn’t acting as Agni, the info broker consulting with a contact. He wasn’t a criminal or even Yuuri’s loyal friend. He wasn’t quite sure what he was in this moment, this person who had come to a horrifying realization and needed confirmation. He decided it didn’t matter though because he knew what did: finding Ao and stopping him. As always, the lab was freezing, and dimly lit, although the metallic surfaces glittered weakly with a lonely beckoning in the shadows. His own footsteps echoed in his ears, the sound dancing off the metal plated walls. The only other sound was his breathing. It curled out in icy wisps in front of him and he suddenly wondered what Victor was doing... “Doctor,” he called out. The word reverberated nastily in the air, strumming through the molecules of tinny surfaces. It pierced the barriers of foreign, bulky machines, sterile countertops, beakers, and a metal stretcher near the center of the room that always gave Phichit the creeps. He had sat on that stretcher a few times in the past. Sometimes for business, sometimes for casual chats. “You home, doc?” Silence. He kept walking further into the cavernous lab, casually rapping his knuckles on the counters as he went. Running his fingers delicately on some of the phials, he took the opportunity to get a better look around. He usually didn’t have time to really take in his surroundings when he was here—he didn’t like talking to the doctor for long. Prick. Everything was neat and tidy. Several petri dishes of metal scraps sat in an orderly grid inside of a tray; he could hear the tiny, minute sounds of their vibrations and he wondered idly about magnets. Next to these were a few translucent looking liquids sitting stagnant as ice in their beakers that Phichit bent low to get a closer look at. He wondered which one was his blood… He was looking at a glass phial of something pink when he caught the warped image of something that he hadn’t noticed before. He stood up to see it unfiltered: a tall, sleek white container, taller than Phichit and much wider than him, with a window in the front and something that looked like a large gear for a handle. It was tucked into a shadowy corner, a wall that was bare mountain sediment—one of the areas of the room that was too awkwardly shaped and too structurally volatile for metal plating. It was easy to miss in a room this dark. He glided smoothly over to this before tilting his head up. “Doc! C’mon out, I want to talk!” As he approached, he noticed two things: first, the container was filled with some sort of liquid—a small, shadowy bubble flitted across the frosted glass. Second, although the gear looked like a handle to a door—like the device for a submarine’s entrance—there wasn’t a single seam in the thing, no indication that there was any place for an opening of any kind. It was a pod that could not be open or shut. He ran his fingers over the window, letting the heat from his fingertips melt away the thin film of frost. Phichit leaned closer. His breath fogged the glass as he went and he shivered. Damn, it’s cold in here. He shoved his sleeve over it to clear the frost and condensation. Drowsy eyes flicked open in the darkness. Too frightened to scream, Phichit jerked away. A shudder trickled down his spine when he heard a crash. He turned around. He had backed into one of the metal tables, knocking the beakers askew. He hurriedly rearranged them before reapproaching the pod. He peered into the window, his heart rabbiting in his chest but there were no eyes. “What the—” he breathed and frantically wiped at the window again. A few lonely bubbles whisked past before disappearing and then nothing. “Now, I know…” he wasn’t imagining it. He saw them. They were there: a pair of dark eyes, both flashing but lax as if drugged. He ran his fingers along the sides of the pod, looking desperately for some way to open it, but there was none. In the smallest fraction of a second, he inspected it from top to bottom, back to front, and only found a small valve in the top, far too narrow to fit a human body through. The only thing he did find were hundreds of tiny markings around the handle that looked as if they controlled temperature...it didn’t make any sense to him. Had his overactive imagination, already wracked with stress, conjured this specter as a way of telling him to slow down? To relax? He rapped his knuckles against the front as if whoever he saw would knock back. He raised his voice but didn’t take his eyes away from the window: “I didn’t realize you had company, doctor,” the last word bounced horribly around him in the air to no response. As his heart continued to thunder in his ears, he told himself to calm down so he didn’t shake himself out of his own skin— “Wait…” he breathed to himself and looked at his hand. Maybe he should flip his switch? Just a little? He took a sharp breath in... then let his molecules fly. He watched as his hand vibrated beyond the speed of anything he’d ever seen until it all but disappeared. But he knew it was there—he could see it, in a way. It was like a feathery imprint on reality that was moving so fast it was as if it wasn’t even there. With a bit of hesitation, he sunk his hand, slowly , through the center of the pod. He gasped; a peculiar sensation set off landmines of gooseflesh up and down his arms. He tried to move his hand, knew he was working his muscles enough to do so but… he couldn’t feel it. It was like his arm wasn’t there. Like there was nothing there. No liquid. No air. No human body that could have opened their eyes at him. The temperature was neither warm nor cold, but just, there , completely neutral. It was as if he had stuck his hand in some sort of void. “What on Yakov’s green Earth…” he gulped and willed himself to sink his arm in up to his shoulder. He gasped as his palm met a flat surface and he immediately pulled his arm out. Must have been the back of the pod. He took a deep steadying breath and was suddenly aware that his arm was drenched; it was quickly becoming freezing inside the mountain where the air was so cold, so thin. He shook himself dry at lightning speed and straightened his coat around him. So. There really was no one in there. He was losing it. He turned around, expecting the doctor; Phichit had been there for a while after all. But he was still alone. “I’ll be back, doc,” Phichit shouted though he supposed that the doctor was out.
* After everything he’d done and said, Phichit was still looking out for him. Thoughts of his best friend only served to encourage the tiny sobs to push their way up his chest as he applied the healing serum to all of his worst marks. He was shaking softly from crying, and he couldn’t imagine a tomorrow in which he wouldn’t still be crying quietly to himself in the dark of his room. He’d be lucky to be crying in his room tomorrow, instead of behind bars or worse, he thought with a sharp pain of emotion. With trembling fingers, he massaged some of the searing liquid into his palms; the skin was red and raw there from where he was electrocuted. It was his own fault; he knew it. He challenged Victor to hurt him when he trapped him in those phone cables. He forced him. Victor, Winer Torch, couldn’t fall to his knees and surrender to a common thief. Victor defended himself after Yuuri had hurt him; he couldn’t even be certain how badly Victor was hurt because of his actions. Because he, Yuuri, was too selfish, too stubborn to just stop. To wait until night when Victor could use water instead of fire. Or to wait until his meeting with Phichit on the twenty-fifth to regroup and strategize after being compromised. Or… he drew in a shuddering breath as more tears pricked the corners of his eyes. At this point, his face was sticky and itchy from all the tears that had dried there, his vision blurred from the ones that refused to stop coming, as if they were called in for backup by the ones that had evaporated. He began rocking back and forth on the bed, cradling one of his hands to his chest. He could’ve listened to Phichit. He could’ve asked the heroes for help. He lived half an hour from History Maker; there was nothing stopping him except his own pride. He could’ve listened to Phichit, his friend. His friend who had done nothing but help him and protect him ever since Yuuri chose to take on this role as his family’s so called protector. And just who was he protecting now? He couldn’t even protect Phichit who he could only assume was somewhere close since it was Christmas. But where had Phichit been before now — where was he forced to hide because of Yuuri’s carelessness? Wherever he was, he was alone, unlike Yuuri, who had Laszlo. Phichit made sure that Yuuri had someone; Laszlo was a cover, yes, he knew this, but Laszlo was but one example of the thousands of ways Phichit had protected him and made him feel safe in this fathomless pit of danger and uncertainty that he had willingly jumped into. And he had promised Phichit that he wouldn’t be alone, that he would be Phichit’s friend. As another dry sob overcame him, he fell limp on the bed, burying the side of his face into his pillow as if he could somehow sink into it completely in order to escape from the guilt that was now rearing its head and bearing fangs at Yuuri. He promised. And after all this time, all he could do was accept Phichit’s help and protection. He couldn’t even accept well meaning advice — advice that made sense even if it potentially put him and his family at risk. Yuuri’s decision to do things his way was putting him at risk and he was currently suffering the consequences of those risks; the flames of muted agony licked their way up and down his body as the serum did its job. It still hurt even after a few days of healing. His own pain aside, he had lost another ruby. His plan wasn’t working. Nothing he did was working. So what was even the point of sticking so selfishly to his original plan? If he could even call this a plan... He…he would have to give up. Give up being Red Specter. His skin ran cold, the chill more intense than anything that December could inflict on him, when he tried to imagine the look on Victor’s face when he finally… told the truth. When he admitted that he had been lying, that Victor was right that night in the pub. That he had manipulated Victor. That he was still bold enough to beg for help even after the fact. His nails found their way to his scalp before he forced himself to stand. He began pacing, hands pawing nervously at his forearms. He had to tell Victor. He had to tell him. He had to. There was no other way. He couldn’t keep dragging Phichit into his messes. He couldn’t keep endangering him. He couldn’t keep obeying Fujiwara who hadn’t loosened his grip on Yuuri even the slightest bit over the years. There was no good end to his story so why shouldn’t he choose the route in which he was actually honest for once? “I have to tell him.” The words came out of him without permission, startling him, because he didn’t recognize the raspy, wrecked voice. “I have to.” But how? Could he really just… waltz into History Maker and ask the receptionist for an audience with Winter Torch? They would ask for the purpose of the visit: confession? He would surely be rerouted to the police as soon as they got done gaping at him for being so stupid. That was no good — he wasn’t just turning himself in, he was asking for help with protecting his family from Fujiwara. And he couldn’t just speak to any hero. It had to be Victor, he knew it. Celestino would defer judgement to Lilia and Yakov, he was sure. Lilia was a gamble he wasn’t willing to take and Yakov would bury him alive. But Victor. Victor would listen. Victor was more likely to want to help Yuuri than anyone. Yuuri was sure of this. If he couldn’t go to History Maker… he would have to contact him. His crying picked up as he was suddenly aware that he did have a way of contacting Victor… With hands that refused to stop shaking, he bent down to fish his phone from under his pillow and opened Instagram. He took several, deep stuttering breaths and fumbled with his words, erasing, and starting over before he finally forced himself to send a DM. y-katsuki: Hey… Merry Christmas. * Victor had never dreaded his birthday or Christmas more in his life. And he spent his twenty-first birthday in a courtroom, testifying against Pyre, all while foggy and lethargic on painkillers. But now, he was faced with going to a party planned by his well meaning best friend when all he could think about was Red and how injured he was the last time he saw him. He rubbed more fiercely at the conditioner in his hair as if he could physically remove the thoughts but it was pointless — the image of the thief crumpled on the ground was insistent. The sound of the choked scream kept ringing in his ears. Over. And Over. He pinched his eyes shut as yet another shudder percussed his spine. “What did I do…” he moaned and finally gave in; he let his fists slam against the tile of his shower wall and leaned there, his head bowed against the steaming water. “I didn’t mean to… I didn’t mean to hurt him.” He had never felt anything like the electricity that welled up inside him as if released from a cage by some invisible lever. And electrocution aside… he moaned again as he remembered all the times Red had burned himself. He had told Red not to, but he was so stubborn. Or desperate. Yes, he seemed desperate. Because, truth be told, nobody had fought Victor the way Red had. Close quarters, forceful, fearless, sharp, as if his body was a weapon that could be chinked on a rough surface as long as it got the job done. Red was risking his life to escape him. Everyone Victor had fought in the past gave up as soon as they realized they were out of their depth. Longer “fights” were more like chases as even the most stubborn and persistent villains with an ounce of common sense tried to keep their distance between their skin and the sentient campfire. Of course, Pyre was different. Pyre knew he was fighting fire with fire when it came to Victor so he was far less likely to sustain any serious injuries even if Victor didn’t hold back. Which was why Pyre delighted in never holding back on Victor in turn. Red, however... Red, if Victor wasn’t mistaken was a psychic type, capable of some kind of mind control. He wasn’t positive of the specificities or limitations, but he still couldn’t think of a reason why Red couldn’t just tell Victor to stop. He chose instead to stick his neck out in front of Victor just because it gave him a good angle for a solid kick. He hurriedly rinsed out the conditioner and stepped out of the shower to dry off, lest Chris accuse him of stalling. He wasn’t, technically, because stalling implied intent. Technicalities hardly mattered though because he wasn’t looking forward to pretending he wasn’t miserable and distracted in a room full of people who only wanted to celebrate him. Most of the guests were fellow heroes aside from some of Chris’ friends from his various dancing and cooking classes. But the heroes—they knew Victor, or at least the pristine portrait of Victor. The great hero, an absolute symbol of justice, a paragon of purity, an inkling of an ideal future, blah, blah, blah blah. He dabbed toner on his face with more force than was strictly necessary and sighed at his reflection in the mirror. His complexion was holding up despite all the stress he’d been under lately. No bags, no blemishes, and the crinkle near his eyes were more charming than worrisome. But his eyes were tired. Maybe he was looking at them too hard, but the longer he stared into the blue, the more he thought the color was drab, lifeless, as if he had grown far too accustomed to sleepless nights. He sighed again and twisted the cap off of a moisturizer because he knew it was too late for a power nap. The studio would be dimly lit, he was sure, so maybe no one would notice… but that of course was preposterous. Someone would notice; all eyes were constantly on him as if he were an escaped criminal caught in floodlights. And when people looked at him, they expected perfection. It was exhausting, especially nowadays when he was lightyears away from anything resembling perfection. He almost felt like some kind of fake bearing the title Winter Torch when he was struggling every day to protect his city and was starting to feel helpless more often than not… This wouldn’t do. Like it or not, he had a party to go to so he had to get it together. He spritzed rose water on his face, tightened the towel around his waist and opened the door to his bedroom. “I changed my mind, Chris. Can you open that champagne?” “I already did,” Chris said from the bed without looking up from his phone. He used his own champagne flute to point to the desk. “She’s all yours.” He muttered his thanks and poured the drink out to the brim of his glass, chugged it, then filled it up again to take another half gulp. Chris tossed his phone aside and whistled when Victor turned around. “Wow,” he slow-clapped, having put his glass down on Victor’s bedside table, “you don’t look like you got shot, eviscerated, and electrocuted in the same month at all.” “Thanks. It’s Maybelline.” “And rose water and crunches…” “Yeah, I just try to incorporate as much balance in my life as possible. It makes the bullet wounds heal faster.” “I’m taking notes,” Chris grinned and sprang to his feet. He circled around to three garment bags at the foot of the bed and unzipped them. “Help me choose.” “Go with the red,” Victor said immediately and turned to his own closet. Chris scoffed behind him. “You didn’t even look! You don’t know what colors I have.” “Chris, love, you always have a red option, because red is your favorite and it looks amazing on you, so go with the red.” “It’s not my favorite color, it’s my—” “Favorite color to wear , yes, I know. Go with the red.” “Ok, well then there’s just one small problem with that…” Victor turned around and cackled at the blazer Chris was holding up. It was bright, sparkly red with matte black lapels, eye catching and festive. “I didn’t really want to steal your spotlight with something like this since it is your birthday.” “Chris, I have like six outfits in here now that I’m effectively homeless. How were you not trying to show me up?” He shook his head but with the utmost affection. The corners of Chris’ mouth turned down as if to say “yikes” and he looked back down at his garment bags. “Ok, before you write me off as the world’s worst best friend—” “I would never.” “You will notice that I have three bags.” He turned around to zip the other two garment bags up and then lifted them for Victor. “Which one?” Victor chuckled, “I’m not taking your clothes, Chris.” “No, no, it’s a birthday present, handsome. Pick.” “Chris…” “Pick.” He ordered and shook his head once in agitation, “I’m rich. Pick.” “Fine,” Victor considered his options with a finger over his mouth. He pointed to the left. “That one.” Chris shook his head and waved a finger at him. “Uh uh, wrong.” “Wrong?” “Wrong,” he tossed Victor’s pick back on the bed behind him. “This is your present. Happy birthday, Victor.” With an amused look, Victor took the garment bag and hung it on the back of his closet door to unzip and immediately started laughing again, his eyes screwing shut in amusement as he did. Inside was a golden blazer, complete with a matching vest, a black shirt, and tailored pants. The knitting of the jacket was meticulous and hinted at a subtle texture that wasn’t there when Victor ran his fingers over it; it felt silky and substantial, as if it took at least a year to make one sleeve. “Do you like it?” Chris asked. “You know I love it. Thank you so much!” “Like I said, I’m rich, so don’t mention it,” he shrugged lightly and began to strip his sweater off. “You know, you really should’ve changed before you came… or maybe met me there. Yakov could be home any minute.” “Good, then I can wish Dad a happy holiday,” he pulled his black turtleneck on. “You and I both know he works way later than this, Victor. We’re fine. And if he does come home early…” He held up a pair of black loafers with sparkly red tendrils on the side. He showed Victor the bottoms: metal plated. “I’ll jump out the window like a frightened booty call. Maybe we can trick him into thinking you have a sex life.” Victor gave him a scandalized look. “You know, I could just handcuff you to the radiator and leave you here. Is that what you want?” “Victor, baby boy,” Chris bit his lip on a laugh and covered his mouth before he found the strength to continue, “are you asking me if I want a naked hero to put handcuffs on me? Do you even know me anymore?” “Yakov would find you.” “I don’t have a type,” Chris shrugged, “and I find that older men tire easily.” Victor’s mouth fell open wide. He stared in disbelief, one foot hovering above his hands holding the pants open. Chris held his hands up in question. “What?” “Chris… you didn’t.” “Ugh, Victor, of course it wasn’t Father Justice, Yakov Feltsman of all people—” “Yes, obviously, but WHO?!” Silence. Victor’s eyes widened, “Why?” “Well, I’m sure you know why —” Victor gagged and turned away, “Ok, that’s quite enough information about that.” “Pardon me, Mr. Three Quarters Away From Being A Silver Fox, but older people can be very tender—” “I said that’s more than enough information—” Victor’s phone beeped on his bed. He gave Chris a withering, disappointed look, pulled his pants on and walked over to the bed. It really had been ages since he last talked with his best friend, and it seemed Chris was long overdue for a lecture. He opened his phone; it was Instagram and— “Yuuri!” “Your brother?” “No, Yuuri, I mean my Yuuri,” he corrected when Chris gave him a confused look. “Your Yuuri now is it? He’s yours?” “You know that’s not what I meant,” he waved Chris’ jab away even though he was finding it difficult to push down the smile that was trying to fight its way onto his lips. But when he remembered the last time they spoke, when he had cornered Yuuri into a pub and tortured answers out of him, he pressed the phone to his chest and pinched his eyes shut. “No, no, no, no…” he moaned in anguish. “What’s… what’s wrong?” “I can’t look at this… I was such a jerk to Yuuri the last time I saw him!” “And why’s that?” “It doesn’t matter, it’s stupid…” Victor shook his head at Chris who widened his eyes in frustration, making Victor groan and flop down on the bed. “I accused him of being Red Specter. Well, not directly, but I did interrogate him and I think I reminded him of a lot of painful memories he was trying to forget. Chris… I made him cry.” “Well, love…” Chris hesitated, and looked down at the blazer he was running absently through his fingers, “I’m sure you had good reason to think he was Red Specter. You can’t be so hard on yourself.” “Yes, I can, and I will. Yuuri helped me when no one else could, when I was vulnerable and hurting. How do I return that favor?” “I don’t think anyone can truly understand the kind of pressure you’re under constantly as Winter Torch, Victor… but Yuuri is smart. I’m sure he understands that you didn’t mean to hurt him, that you were just doing your job.” “It doesn’t change the fact that I did hurt him though,” Victor pouted and pressed the phone further into his chest. “So, why do you think he’s texting you? To tell you that you’re a pile of stale bread crumbs and that he’ll never forgive you? Do you really think Yuuri’s that kind of person?” When Victor only threw his arm over his face and groaned, Chris bent down to flick his nose in exasperation. “At least look at it Victor! It’s Christmas! He’s probably just wishing you a happy holiday!” “He’s probably wishing that all of my hair falls out, Chris, I can’t look.” “You child. Ce n’est pas la mer à boire, eh?”
“C'est pire que ça…”
“Hey,” he snapped, “you’re not allowed to use my language to be an infant! Now give me this,” and with a flick of his finger, Victor’s phone was rocketing out of his grip into Chris’ outstretched hand. Victor sat up straight to protest, but Chris was already unlocking his phone and opening Instagram. “Oh well, would you look at that. He does think you’re a pile of stale bread crumbs—” “What?!” Victor lunged for the phone, but Chris turned his back to him, and placed an outstretched hand on his chest, holding him at bay, paying no mind to the flailing arms reaching for him. “Chris, give it back—” “And he says you’re probably bald under all of the fire and, if not, he hopes you will be very soon—” “Chris!” Victor gripped Chris’ wrist and froze it; Chris yelped, snatched his hand away, and tossed the phone back to Victor in the same breath. Victor fumbled the screen back to his messages, his face hot and the worst case scenario stirring the contents of his stomach like a cauldron of anxiety. When he tapped Yuuri's messages, he read the three words at least a million times before sighing. “It says Merry Christmas,” he said plainly. Chris was still shaking the feeling back into his arm when he rolled his eyes at Victor. “Shocker. Who would've guessed?” But Victor wasn’t listening anymore. He typed and hit send immediately. winter-torch-official: Hello and Merry Christmas to you too! y-katsuki: Thank you Victor bit his lip and ran a frustrated hand through his still drying hair at the ellipses that kept appearing and disappearing. “He’s typing… what’s he typing?” “Maybe you should ask him,” came Chris’ dry tease. Victor waved him off. The guilt was still eating at him even after the time that had passed… and if he still felt guilty for what he did, it was very possible that Yuuri was still hurt. winter-torch-official: Yuuri, I want to apologize to you. The ellipses stopped before reappearing again and Victor’s breath caught in his throat as he began typing out his reasoning. y-katsuki: Apologize? You really don’t need to. y-katsuki: i don’t deserve that, so I don’t want u to think that u need to go out of your way to punish yourself for something that’s not your fault. Those words only made him feel worse, even more guilty, if it were possible and he sent his message before Yuuri could lash out at himself anymore. winter-torch-official: I definitely do need to apologize, yuuri. It was never my intention to hurt u the way I did. Talking to you made me realize that we have similar scars. I let my responsibilities cloud my own emotional judgement. I’m really sorry for the way I spoke to you. A few more ellipses appeared before stopping completely. He hoped he hadn’t caused even more damage. “What’s he saying?” “He said he wrote a letter to Santa asking him to make me bald, Chris.” “Victor, I will kill you on your birthday, just tell me—” “Shhh! He’s typing back!” “It’s not a call, you can still read—” y-katsuki: I understand if you have plans but do you think we can meet? I need to talk to you, if that’s ok. Victor looked at Chris in horror. His voice sounded hollow when he spoke: “He wants to meet me.” “What? When?” Victor scanned the message again. “Now...?” “Now?!” “I think so? He said that he understands if I have plans—” “Victor, you should say yes!” “W-what do you mean?” Victor blinked in disbelief at Chris. “I can’t go now. I’m about to go to my birthday party! The one you planned for me.” “It… it could be important,” Chris gave him a one armed shrug. “You should say yes. He’s not asking to speak to Victor , after all. He needs to speak to Winter Torch, a hero. He needs you.” “I—I mean, I guess that’s true but,” he gave the message another startled glance, “do I ask him what he needs or just say ‘yes’ without any information?” “Darling, are you asking me?” With a flick of both wrists, Chris was wearing his blazer. “You’re the hero. You know how to handle a distress call, right?” “But it’s a bit different between us, isn’t it?” Victor sat on the bed, crossed his legs, and considered the message. “Did I tell you he knows my name? He heard it. That day at the hospital when Yakov was there.” “Hmm.” He watched Chris check his reflection in the mirror; he was fully dressed in a blazer, turtleneck, and the black pants to match. He fussed with a tuft of hair in the front of his head but Victor thought he looked good. The last time he and Chris went out together was when Victor was perhaps twenty-three. Victor had run into Chris days after his friend had robbed a bank in Rio de Janeiro. Chris invited him to drinks. Victor said no. He hadn’t meant it—they were laughing over beers by the end of the night. Now, here they were five years later, Victor wavering on whether or not he should ghost his own birthday party, a party that Chris had gone through a lot of trouble to plan… “I think this is my third time seeing you this year, Chris,” he sighed behind him. Chris smirked at him in the mirror. “I thought I was the only one keeping count.” “Yuuri… if it’s a real emergency, Yuuri will just have to go to History Maker, like everyone else.” He turned his screen off and shoved the phone in his pocket for emphasis. Chris turned to face him, a concerned look on his face. “But—” Victor held his hands up, “But nothing. Today is special. Everyone, all of my friends, are waiting to celebrate me and it wouldn't be fair of me to blow them off because of this. I’ll call Yuuri tomorrow.” “Victor…” Chris seemed to be grappling for words and sighed twice, before speaking again, “it’s… it’s just a party. And I don’t think anyone would be upset about you arriving fashionably late.” “I’m already fashionably late, you convict,” Victor got up and made his way to the garment bag. He took out the shirt to put it on. It fit him perfectly which meant that Chris really had planned to give it to him. “I could end up missing the party entirely if I go to Yuuri now. Like I said, he can call History Maker.” “I...Ok.” Victor gave him an affectionate smile. “I know you want me to be happy, you big softie. I’ll be fine and so will he.” “I know,” Chris said and turned back to the mirror. Victor was adjusting the vest—it was an excellent fit too—when he remembered something. “Chris! You said you invited him to the party, right?” “I did,” Chris looked over his shoulder at him; it seemed he had just remembered as well. “He said he would come.” “Would you just look at how that problem resolved itself!” He took the phone out of his pocket and was very close to sending another message to Yuuri when his mouth fell open in an ‘o’. “Wait… I don’t think he knows exactly who I am though…”
“Répète?”
“He knows my name but… I’m not sure if he knows I’m Victor Nikiforov… what if I blow my identity again?!” “For the love of wealth and assets,” Chris sighed and flicked his finger at Victor’s phone again. Victor blinked and his phone was out of his hands, in Chris’ which typed furiously, then flying on to his pillow. “There. Fixed it.” “W-what?!” Victor leaped in horror for the phone for the second time that night. “What did you say?” He opened Instagram. winter-torch-official: I’m afraid I have a previous engagement tonight. But i’ll definitely see you soon. I’ll be more than happy to talk to you then ;) “The winking emoji, really?”
* It took Yuuri several read-throughs before it clicked that Victor was talking about his birthday party. He could talk to him there. He rifled through his messages to find the invitation Chris had sent him. He was going to be pretty late, but maybe that was for the best? He didn’t want to ruin Victor’s birthday with bad news and work; he would let Victor enjoy himself as much as possible first, then come near the end when everyone was leaving… There was no way he could wait to tell Victor; he would certainly lose his nerve. He got up from his bed, grabbed his parka, and was nearly out the door when he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror. “Ah, yabai na...” he whispered to himself in horror. His hair was disheveled, a nest of tangled hair atop sallow skin, red eyes and tear stained cheeks. It was awful. He couldn’t remember the last time he had done any self care and it showed.There was no way he was going out—going to Victor’s party—looking like a natural disaster. He made a pit stop in the bathroom to wash his face and comb his hair. He had a thought that maybe he should buy Victor a present, despite the circumstances, since today was still technically his birthday. And Christmas. He should be polite. He rushed out of his apartment to the nearest package store, choosing to walk to let the fresh, icy air bring some color back to his face. He asked the clerk for something expensive and she delivered; it was something that Yuuri didn’t recognize, a bottle of champagne that came in a wrapped golden box. It was over two hundred dollars, so he supposed it must be good. With a pang of guilt, he realized that there was someone else he needed to give a gift to so he bought a cheaper bottle for Laszlo. It came in a green box with golden embossed flowers and was about half the price of Victor’s. They were pretty thoughtless gifts, he knew, but they were the best he could do at the last minute. Besides, he was out of the practice of buying things for others. Once he was back home, he set Laszlo’s box on the sitting room table with a note: Sorry for being awful. The walk had made him feel a fraction better although his heart still felt hollow. He was sure he would at least look presentable when he talked to Victor… presentable . He thought the last word with a groan when he caught his reflection in the mirror again. Even if he did arrive at the party near the end, some of Victor’s guests would still see him. He had to choose something to wear.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Chris held Victor’s coat open for him to shoulder on and then they were ready to go. Victor gave Makkachin several belly rubs and kisses—Chris gave her a polite little head pat—before he grabbed his keys from the dish by the entrance. “Did you drive?” Victor asked. “Of course. I want to pick up a little snack before the party, if that’s alright with you.” Victor nodded and turned the deadbolt to pull the door open. “No—” He took one step and was face to face with Yakov. “—problem.” His heart skipped a beat at the sudden encounter and he had a fleeting urge to push Chris away as if Yakov hadn’t already gotten an eyeful. “H-hey…” he greeted weakly. Yakov’s face had not changed: he looked tired and unimpressed, snow powdering the shoulders of his coat and leaving dark speckles in the grey as it melted. He was holding his briefcase in one hand and a paper grocery bag in the other. Victor still felt that his power was strong inside him—Yakov hadn’t taken it away—which only made him even more scared. “Hey.” Yakov echoed him, dry and mocking. He eyed Chris from head to toe. Chris exhaled shakily and Victor thought he caught Chris’ hands flexing nervously at his sides. “Christophe Giacometti…you’re a fully grown man now.” “Merry Christmas,” Chris managed. Yakov didn’t acknowledge this, but a strange look crossed his features all the same. “Back in Russia, almost a decade before I even adopted the boys, you two used to ride your bike down the hill in the woods behind my house,” he muttered. An odd little chill crawled up Victor’s neck at the distant memory. It was so long ago and so mundane. Innocent. He barely remembered. “One day, you went too fast and crashed your bike right into my sliding glass window. Lilia patched you up. That was the last time I saw you in my house before tonight.” Victor jumped a little when a nervous laugh escaped Chris, “Are you going to reminisce about our boyhood all night, Dad?” “Perhaps,” Yakov reached around him to set the paper bag inside on the key table. “I’ll have the time. Ares Island is a long way from here, I’m afraid.” Victor’s heart dropped. “Dad—” Yakov held up a hand and, to his surprise, Chris shook his head. “It’s ok, love, I’ll just be even more fashionably late than you.” “Yakov, we’re going to my birthday party,” Victor began, not knowing how much he should be begging his father to allow him to party with the world’s foremost international jewel thief. He was a hero after all—the line had always been thin, a fine and delicate sliver. He didn’t even expect to win this argument but what kind of friend would he be if he didn’t try? “M-maybe you could come too and…” “I’m much too old for parties, Victor.” He procured a set of nano-cuffs from his coat pocket and Chris, without a hint of protest, held out his wrists. Yakov snapped them on. “Besides, I’m sure Christophe has some old friends who would be delighted to see him on Ares Island.” “Gabe does get lonely on the holidays,” Chris muttered to himself. “Can I…” Victor sighed wearily and pushed all thoughts of the party out of his head, “can I at least come with you two? To say goodbye?” The “No, love” from Chris and “Absolutely not” from Yakov came at the same time and, again, Victor wasn’t surprised. “Go to the party, Victor. Everyone’s waiting,” Chris gave him a brilliant smile, “I’ll see you soon enough.” “Let’s go, son,” Yakov grunted and steered Chris away, leaving Victor standing alone in the doorway. Yakov looked at him once over his shoulder, sighed, and kept walking. * Victor arrived at his party much later than he intended to as he had to call a taxi after Chris was arrested. Everyone still greeted him with cheer and excitement though, with shouts and happy well wishes. The dance studio was beautifully decorated with silver and blue streamers draped across the ceiling like a glimmering canopy. There were a few tables covered with white linen for people to talk and eat at and he almost didn’t notice the silvery poles positioned throughout the room. He chuckled to himself, a pang of sadness shaking him, as he thought about his best friend heading to Ares Island. It seemed that everyone had somehow gotten the unspoken memo that tonight was the night to sparkle. He barely recognized his own co-workers and friends. He almost missed Robin in a sparkly silver sweater, a red cardigan and dramatic black eyeshadow that glittered like the night sky. They wore jeans and knee high boots to complete the look. Kenza, 88, was dazzling in a sparkly green cocktail dress with a plunging neckline. She had splurged on beautiful new wing covers to hide her natural, trademark pattern. They were emerald with a curved, eggshell blue stripe. She was wearing makeup to match and diamond butterfly charms in her long, curly hair. Now that he looked, all of his hero friends were there, unmasked and unrecognizable to outsiders. There were some he didn’t know… Chris’ friends. Some of them smiled and introduced themselves warmly while Victor politely took the initiative to speak to others. “Victor!” he turned and spotted Robin beaming behind him. They had finally managed to corner him after he’d made his rounds around the party to thank the guests. “Happy birthday!” “Thank you!” He swooped down to hug them, “I really appreciate you coming!” “Yeah, of course! I wouldn’t miss it!” They shouted over the music and took a sip of something red—it was certainly turning them redder by the second. “I got a text from a Chris, but I only know one Chris and he’s got a danger profile. It’s not that Chris is it?” Victor smiled at them. “He’s a childhood friend,” he said. “Ah, I see,” they craned their head around at the party. “Is he here? I gotta ask him where he got this from,” he pointed at his cup.” “I’m sure it’s just vodka and juice, love.” “Vodka is good!” They chirped and pointed at a spot in the crowd that Victor didn’t catch before they were talking animatedly again. “Speaking of danger profiles, your brother’s here!” “What?!” Victor whipped his head around and back to Robin who beamed even harder. “Yeah! He’s actually really cool! We like the same music and everything!” Too bad about the cars though…” “That’s… yeah,” he turned again and was finally able to spot Yuri near the food. He was stuffing his face with some kind of pastry puff. “I’m sorry, do you mind if I go speak to him? I didn’t know he was here…” “Yeah, I’ll take you to him! I was just talking to him,” Robin grabbed Victor’s hand. Victor allowed them to tug him across the room and didn’t point out that he could see Yuri clearly from where he was standing. When they got to Yuri, Robin gushed about something that he couldn’t really understand—it seemed Yuri didn’t either—then disappeared in the crowd. “I… I think I’m just now realizing that Robin is bilingual.” Yuri cocked a slightly interested eyebrow at that then shrugged. “They said they think you’re cool by the way.” “They’re pretty smart then, aren’t they?” “Hmm, maybe,” Victor smirked. He hadn’t realized how tense he’d been until his shoulders began to relax. A stubborn sadness still sat on his heart, even if he was relieved to find Yuri here, someone who knew him well enough to not mind too terribly if he wasn’t enjoying himself. Someone who would be a little concerned but still allow Victor to just feel. After considering his many, many choices of little tarts, cakes, and salty things, Victor picked up something that looked like a devilled egg and popped it in his mouth ( “Vkusno!”) . He poured himself a drink and frowned at Yuuri who sniffed experimentally at his cup. “I’m glad to see you, but I think this party might be a bit too mature for you…Did Chris really invite you?” Yuri sucked his teeth, “No. He only told me about it. And I’m not drinking. I only came because I was bored and Yakov still hasn’t bought any games.” “Are you really asking for presents on my birthday? How selfish can you be?” “It’s Christmas, old man,” Yuri spat but Victor could still hear the smile in his voice. He gave him a mock, confused expression. “Christmas? What’s that?” “Some American bullshit that seems to be working in my favor…” Victor laughed at his crassness and beckoned for Yuri to give him the cup. He sipped it and confirmed that there was no alcohol before handing it back. Suddenly, Yuri straightened up. “What’s he doing here?” “Who?” Victor followed Yuri’s line of sight down the refreshment table and spotted the he in question. Wearing plain black slacks, and a white button up under a blue sweater, this “ he” was the only one at the party who hadn’t donned something sparkly. Even Yuri had worn a black sweater with a glittering skull on the front—some gamer merch that Victor vaguely recognized from his brother’s interests. He was hunched over the table, holding a golden box close to his chest and biting his lip under a pair of large, blue glasses. Victor squinted in the dim lighting of the studio at him. “Yuuri?” He called to him and Yuuri jumped, almost dropping the box when he did, and turned to Victor. “Oh,” he said. “Hi.”
* Victor. Was. Breathtaking. Of course he would be. Yuuri knew his mouth was hanging stupidly open at him, but he couldn’t help it. He was pretty sure he’d only seen anyone as striking as him in movies; his eyes, blue and warm, were still somehow as piercing as spears under the crown of elegantly coiffed white hair. The only thing that could complete the picture was an actual crown (Yuuri could think of a few he’d stolen that would complement Victor nicely).Victor was wearing black and gold tonight, like his hero suit, but it was just… a suit suit. For parties. Hair immaculately parted, glowing skin, and undoubtedly priceless clothing aside, he had the air of innate confidence that made him seem far taller than Yuuri knew he actually was. He felt small next to Victor. This was going to be hard. He didn’t know why Victor’s appearance would make things difficult for him, but he was certain they would. Yuuri was only wearing a sweater after all. A sweater. Another more rational thought managed to push its way through the star-struck fog in his brain: he called me by my name... Yuuri knew Victor through the intel Phichit gave him but Victor didn’t know that… his throat ran dry as he looked for something, anything to say to Victor who had raised a platinum eyebrow at him. He realized they weren’t alone either— his eyes found Yuri, the Russian Punk, who scowled. The last time they met, Victor was at Spring Gate General in need of stitches. Victor gave him a sympathetic smile and even that was dazzling. “Yuuri, I’m glad you came,” he said softly as he put a hand on the teen’s shoulder. “I’m sure you remember my brother? You two share a name.” “I…” he noticed the meaningful look Victor was giving him, the slight nod—Victor was acknowledging that he was Winter Torch, that he was OK with Yuuri knowing this secret. He swallowed down what felt like cotton and tried to find words. “Yes, I remember. Um, are you well?” “Yes, thanks to you,” Victor smiled at him again. “I… if you’re still interested of course, I’m looking forward to having you on staff as a nurse.” “Oh,” Yuuri said stupidly and the only thing he could think of to fix it was to say, “Happy Birthday. And Christmas.” He held out the box of champagne and felt his face grow hot when Victor’s eyes widened at it before taking it delicately in his hands. He whistled which didn’t help Yuuri’s temperature at all. “This is nice. Thank you! But you know you didn’t have to—” “It wasn’t really a big deal,” Yuuri interrupted shyly without meaning to. He bit his lip anxiously when he realized what he’d done. “Sorry…” “Yuuri, are you OK?” Victor asked, leaning in a little. Victor’s brother mumbled something about not being needed and slipped away. “You look a little… upset. Would you like to talk now or…” “Oh, no, no, I’m fine,” Yuuri hastily waved his hands in front of him, lying on instinct, and because he hadn’t expected the party to still be going this strong at this hour. He made sure to be considerably late, after all. “I just, uh, I got into...an accident and I’m still healing. But I’m fine.” The comment made Victor’s eyes widen with genuine concern which made Yuuri feel awful; he had only meant to tell Victor that he was healing to explain why he wouldn’t be very good company during the party, but the words came out like a lie. He hadn’t meant to lie. He was already doing so badly. “An accident? On your motorcycle? Yuuri, that’s serious! I don’t want you to push yourself. If you’re in pain right now—” “I promise, you don’t have to worry,” he said quickly, “I’m sorry I mentioned it. I just… I just needed to…” “We can talk—” “No, I want you to enjoy yourself. Really. That might be good, I don’t know.” He pointed at the box that Victor was still holding. “I don’t know anything about alcohol… I’m sorry I couldn’t get you something better.” “Ah, Yuuri, I love champagne,” Victor smiled warmly. He still seemed concerned but Yuuri could see the decision in Victor’s body language to give up on the questioning. “You couldn’t have gotten me anything better if you tried. I’m easy, after all.” He began working the box open and reached for two champagne flutes. Yuuri was about to refuse, but he thought that might be weird, possibly threatening, so he let Victor serve him. They toasted. “To the man who saved my life,” Victor nodded at him. “And to the man who saves everyone else’s,” Yuuri whispered back, because surely Victor was the more important party in this scenario. “Happy birthday.” Victor gave him a winning smile and Yuuri took a sip that pulled all of his attention towards sharp, citrusy, ribbons of delicately spiced flavor. “Wow,” Victor eyed his flute appreciatively. “Vkusno!” “Yeah,” Yuuri agreed, although he wasn’t entirely sure what Victor said, and for a moment, he almost forgot the terrible mix of sadness and anxiety pulling at him. The champagne really was divine. “You know, Yuuri, I meant what I said earlier. I really am sorry for the way I treated you,” Victor looked at him with earnest eyes and Yuuri found that he couldn’t meet them. “Please,” he said, voice wavering, “you really don’t have to—”
“O-M-G!”
“Yuuri?!”
Two voices squealed behind him and Yuuri didn’t have time to look up before he had been accosted by two people he was beginning to forget this year. After a few seconds of thought, he remembered them as friends from his dancing classes. It had been ages since he had last seen them. They hugged and squeezed him, squeaking about how much they missed him and Yuuri caught Victor smiling over one of their shoulders. “I hope you enjoy yourself, Yuuri,” Victor said, raised his glass, and disappeared into the crowd. But the two who had pounced on him were gone as quickly as they had come. He gave the room at large a panicked look, unsure of what to do or who to talk to—he didn’t want to arrive while everyone was still here. He didn’t know what to do in this situation. This was the dance studio and Chris’ party, so he recognized about half of the guests, but he didn’t know them anymore. It had been too long. It was like he didn’t even belong to the same normal, happy world that they did. What would he even say to them when they inevitably asked what he had been up to? The other guests must’ve been Victor’s civilian friends. Victor had a rich life outside of hero work, he realized when he looked around the room. Everyone looked like a fallen star… One girl in a shimmering emerald dress to match her wings fluttered toward him to appraise the snacks. Yuuri thought she was gorgeous with cinnamon brown skin and long thick curls pulled into a dainty half updo. He definitely didn’t recognize her—she must’ve been Victor’s friend. She picked up a little cheese tart and huffed agitatedly before putting the snack down and turning to him with a little timid smile. “Could you please help me?” She asked, pointing her thumb at one of the wings. “It’s a weird fit so the covers keep slipping up when I fly.” “Oh, sure,” Yuuri said without thinking and reached up to pull the wing cover back down. He caught a glimpse of her real wings— black and red stripes on white— and his throat closed up. He found her eyes again and she beamed at him. “Thanks! Ah, I guess it’s better if I don’t fly,” she said in that horribly familiar voice and let her feet touch the ground. She picked up the cheese tart to take a bite. “These are really good by the way. Oh, I’m Kenza! What’s your name?” “Ah,” Yuuri said, because all he could think of was the time that he had kicked 88 in the stomach, and he turned to run, but someone was right behind him. “Kenza!” They cheered, “There you are!” Yuuri felt cold as he realized, even under the high pitched glee, that this was Spotlight, the hero he had run into several times as Red Specter. The hero he had thrown across a room. A hero he distinctly remembered punching in the face. “Bring your new friend so we can dance!” “Hey!” Kenza clapped her hands once and Yuuri nearly jumped out of his skin, “You’re that nurse, Yuuri Katsuki! From Winter Torch’s Insta! Robin, look, it’s Yuuri!” A few heads turned their way at the little outburst; a sea of heroes was facing him, all of them disguised in glitter and dim lighting. He was staring half of History Maker in the face with no mask on to protect him. He closed his eyes to shut them out and took a step back. His back found the refreshment table and he reached out blindly for his glass. He downed it in one gulp. “Are you OK?” Someone asked. He nodded. Gave them a thumbs up. There were some more excited questions, from several different people around him; he couldn’t repeat them if he was paid to, but he nodded as an answer to all of them, which seemed to work. He nodded for what seemed like hours. He did not remember opening his eyes. * “Done being nasty?” “Pardon me?” Victor gave his brother an exasperated look although the familiar jibe was weirdly comforting to him at the moment. “You never told me what the pig was doing here,” Yuri pointed his chin in the direction of the refreshment table and Victor gave him a sharp look. He leaned in closer. “Watch your tongue around civilians, likho.” He ignored Yuri’s protests at the name and continued, “I invited him here. Unlike you.” “You do know that I’m your family, right?” Victor shrugged making Yuri suck his teeth. After a beat, Victor swept Yuri up into a big, warm hug, bending over to bury his cheek into his soft hair. He squeezed him tight and after a few seconds, he realized that Yuri wasn’t fighting it which felt strange (and a bit ominous, if he was being honest) but he took advantage of it. When it seemed Yuri had had enough, he pat Victor’s back with just a hint of impatience. “OK, OK…” “Please don’t run away again,” Victor finally managed. “Yeah,” Yuri puffed. Victor sighed and let him go. “Wanna ditch this party? I got paid tonight. I’ll buy you that Playstation or whatever.” “Uuuh…” Yuri gave him a pinched look, “this is your party, Victor. Chris planned it for you. Are you sure you just want to—” “He’s not coming,” Victor said with a tight smile. “He got caught up.” Yuri considered him for a minute and Victor watched as understanding fell on his face. “But...I mean, the pi—lesser Yuuri is here too.” Victor couldn’t help but laugh at his brother’s sloppy correction. “I don’t think he really wants to talk to me right now.” He thought about how Yuuri had refused to bring up their Insta conversation and how he kept avoiding Victor’s questions. “I actually don’t know what’s on his mind, but I think maybe he wants some space…” “But this is your party,” Yuri said again with obvious disdain and Victor laughed. “That doesn’t make any sense. If he wanted space, he shouldn’t have come here.” “Maybe, but I’m sure he’s got his reasons...” Victor sighed. “Oh, there’s Chris.” Victor's heart leapt into his throat and he immediately stood straighter; when he turned, Chris was almost nose to nose with him—he was obviously trying to sneak up on Victor but failed—and Victor wasted no time in throwing his arms around him. “CHRIS!” He shouted and began jumping up and down with him in his arms like a little boy—he’d never felt a more sudden rush of relief and joy. "Joyeux anniversaire !” Chris sang next to his ear and kissed his cheek. When Victor finally released him, Chris leaned towards Yuri for a hug who held his hands up. “Victor used up all of the public’s hug points for the day.” Chris threw his head back and laughed, “I see!” Victor was still smiling in disbelief at his friend. “You...” he asked breathlessly, “you didn’t kill Yakov did you?” Chris snorted. “As if I could even touch the world’s best and strongest NP. Victor, your faith in me is very flattering.” Yuri looked at Victor in confusion who explained quietly, “NP means Nazi Puncher. Yakov and Lilia are from the Nazi Puncher Generation, or the NPG, the time when heroes got into more fist fights than power battles, no matter what their abilities were. Hand to hand combat was considered more honorable and impressive than abilities like mine back then.” “Obviously, that wasn’t the thing I was confused about, Victor,” Yuri rolled his eyes, “but whatever. As long as baldy isn’t dead.” He left Victor for the second time that night, and he wondered distantly if Yuri would go back for snacks or more conversation with Robin. “Explain,” Victor demanded. “This party isn’t going to be raided, is it?” Chris smiled ruefully and held up his wrist. There was a single, glowing blue nano-cuff there. “Infrared cuffs,” he wrinkled his nose at it, but he was still smiling when he yanked his cuffed arm hard across his body. A tall, scowling man that Victor vaguely recognized from History Maker came tumbling forward as if he fell out of the fabric of thin air. He was wearing the all black suit of the building’s security uniform and a matching cuff on one of his wrists. However, his cuff wasn’t glowing. Victor knew that the security all had at least four stars but none of them worked in the field like Victor did. This man was young, no older than Victor, with tanned skin, dark eyes, a crooked nose from where it must’ve been broken in the past, and a buzzcut. Victor was certain he’d forget him again after tonight. “Remember when I said I wanted to pick up a snack? Well Yakov decided to give me this government issued one instead.” “I am your prison escort,” the man snapped. “His name is Francis.” “It’s Fabian.” Chris pawed lovingly at Fabian’s suit lapel. An impressive vein that rivaled Yakov’s popped in Fabian’s temple. “Isn’t he beautiful, mon amie?” “Ahaha, perhaps you shouldn’t anger our employees, love,” Victor tried to repress the full fledged laugh that was threatening to escape him. “And, I still don’t get it… Yakov wouldn’t just let you come here.” “Oh, Dad made it very clear that I wouldn’t be getting something for nothing. One night with you, then it’s off to Ares Island.” When Victor still looked disbelieving, Chris sighed. “Ares Island, the information for three international bank accounts as well as the location of seven of my most treasured trinkets, all scattered across the globe, all waiting defenseless for Dad to swipe them away from me…” Victor chuckled now that he understood. “That makes much more sense. Ares Island wouldn’t be enough for him since it’s more of a vacation home for you now than anything.” Chris gave him a coy wink. “And now I’ve got this bodyguard to keep me company tonight.” “Prison escort,” Fabian corrected again. “Escort, yes,” Chris nodded, “and he’s going to make sure that I don’t go skipping off into the sunset. Although Yakov gave these cuffs more slack than I was expecting,” he gestured to the invisible connection between his cuff and Fabian’s. “I could explore the whole studio if I really wanted to but I don’t think I want to abandon my date.” He wrapped his arm around Fabian’s waist. Victor thought it was taking every last fiber of Fabian’s self restraint to not break Chris, then and there. “Prison escort,” he hissed. “Mhmm.” “I’m so glad I got to see you again,” Victor sighed and hugged Chris again. “This party is fantastic.” “I know. And Yakov wanted me to tell you happy birthday!” Victor smiled fondly at that; it suddenly made sense why Yakov had come home earlier than usual. He felt silly for not realizing it sooner. “Oh, did you see Yuuri?” Chris asked over his shoulder. Victor pulled out of the hug and smiled his cover-up smile, “We can talk about that later.” Chris glanced at Fabian who was watching him with harsh attention, as if he was trying to use his glare to nail Chris by the neck to a wall. “OK… although you know that later may mean a few years from now.” “He’s being a bit cagey, is all,” he glanced back over to the refreshment table where a small group of heroes had gathered. He thought he saw Yuuri in the middle there, sipping champagne but not really talking. “I think he’s just nervous or something. And he looks… beat up. He said he was in an accident but—” “Ah, well Yuuri is always nervous. That’s just him. And perhaps he’s got the flu?” Chris waved his hand dismissively before holding it out for Victor. “Dance with me?” Victor smiled and this time it was real. “Of course.” He shared several dances with Chris, both of them taking it in turns to fetch drinks and snacks for each other. When they weren’t on the dance floor, they were huddled closely together at a table, catching up on all of the happenings in the past year, all the little things that they had missed in each other’s lives, the jokes that they had committed to memory to share on their next encounter, the weird dreams that they had in the past month. In between their trips to the dance floor, Chris tried in vain to convince Fabian to dance with him. But, Chris was still a gracious “date” and brought him food whenever he got some for Victor. It was getting harder and harder for Victor to control his face, but he did it for Fabian’s sake who surely hadn’t asked to be here. A few heroes gave Chris curious looks before seemingly shrugging away their suspicions, except Felix who approached the two on the dance floor. “I feel like I’ve seen you somewhere before… do I know you?” he asked Chris who bit his lip on a grin and regarded the hero with hooded eyes. “Mmm,” he purred and Victor looked pointedly away. “Do you? I sure hope so.” Color rose in Felix’s face like mercury in a thermometer and he stepped back. “N-no,” he stuttered nervously, “I actually think I would’ve remembered—” and he scampered away leaving Chris to break down in laughter with Victor—he tried so hard to gather his strength to scold him. The flat frown on Fabian’s face was quivering. “Quit picking on my friends!” “Your friends pick on me daily, Victor! I feel no shame,” Chris wheezed. “Clearly,” Fabian said, rolling his eyes and then seemed shocked to hear the word come out of his mouth. Before he could regain his composure, Chris threw himself into Fabian’s arms, pulling him into a slow dance. “I guess that’s just the kind of guy I am. Shameless,” he crooned, and managed to spin Fabian who looked more than flustered. “Victor, you don’t mind if I take some time to flirt with my beautiful prison escort, do you?” Fabian looked at Victor with an alarmed and abandoned look. Victor could only shrug. “Fabian, if you fall in love with him, I’m afraid that will reflect poorly on your annual performance review.” He left a blustering Fabian in Chris’s doting arms to get another drink. He filled his glass, took a sip, and immediately felt the weight of his loneliness. How he wished that he had just one extra hour with his best friend. But his party would end soon. Everyone would go home and Chris would go to Ares Island for several years if he was good, and perhaps a few months if he was bad. Chris usually chose to take advantage of breakouts... Either way, it was too much. He hated waiting. He was tired of feeling lonely.
* Victor had taken to floating around the party, starting little conversations here and there, dancing with friends, and listening to jokes. Before long, he decided to sit down to enjoy another flute of champagne. There really was quite a bit of it at the party—the drink seemed to keep coming and coming... “My, my, if it isn’t the man of the hour.” Victor looked up. It was Yuuri. But it wasn’t like the Yuuri he knew, or even the Yuuri who he had greeted earlier who looked pale, jumpy, and stricken with sadness. His eyes grew as he took in every detail: the flushed cheeks, the mussed hair, the shirt unbuttoned to his chest revealing a silky collarbone. The sweater was gone completely. Yuuri looked him up and down with hooded eyes and a smirk on his face. With a champagne flute in one hand and the bottle in the other, it didn’t take long for Victor to guess what happened, but it hardly mattered. He was still utterly shocked. Yuuri smiled wider. “You look like you need to be held,” he murmured, and before Victor could say anything, Yuuri was in his lap with his arms flung around his neck. Yuuri took a sip from his flute over Victor’s shoulder before setting both drinks down on the table behind them. He leaned into Victor’s chest to do it and then he snuggled in closer, nuzzling his nose into Victor’s neck. “Happy birthday, Victor,” he breathed. “I- ah- I see you’re feeling better, Yuuri.” “Mmmm,” he purred. “Can I ask you something,” Yuuri pulled back so suddenly he almost pulled them both onto the floor. “Uh, sure,” Victor said, grabbing on tight to Yuuri to keep him from falling and blushing furiously for it. He felt as if he were somehow being pranked and resisted the urge to look over his shoulder for a hidden camera crew. “Do you know Derek Sharpe?” He froze. “What?” “Derek Sharpe is so beautiful. Do you know how beautiful Derek Sharpe is?” “I don’t…” “He’s so beautiful it gives you goosebumps,” he whispered in Victor’s ear. Victor looked over Yuuri’s shoulder to see if anyone was listening. Everyone was drinking and talking amongst themselves. Chris was dancing with a reluctant looking Fabian. Nobody was paying attention to Yuuri drunkenly recounting the beauty of a murdered homicidal mobster in Victor’s ear. “My dad used to cater for his parties all the time when I was growing up. I had a crush on him. He reminded me of mountain winds and forest lakes in the rain. I thought that the universe couldn’t make a more perfect star.” He leaned back to look Victor straight in the eye but stayed close enough so that the tips of their noses touched. Victor could smell champagne and strawberries. He took a shaky breath. “Yeah? He uh...” he licked his lips, “he sounds amazing.” “Not nearly as amazing as you, Victor Nikiforov.” He took Victor’s face in both of his hands and thumbed soft circles into his cheeks. Victor made an aborted sound as if he’d blown a fuse in a very important part of his brain. He’d figure out what stopped working soon enough—he had a hunch it was connected to his eyes because they fluttered shut then. “If Derek Sharpe is a star,” Yuuri whispered, “then you’re the galaxy. I can hardly believe you’re real…” “I’m… I’m real,” Victor managed to open his eyes again. The corner of Yuuri’s lip twitched up. “It really is Christmas then. It’s a shame though… to see you so down at your own party.” “Wanna dance?” Victor choked out. “I would love t—” “Oh my— do you insist on being disgusting for your entire life or is it just as long as I’m around you?!” Victor and Yuuri both snapped their heads up; the bubble Yuuri had artfully (but still so, so drunkenly) crafted had been popped. Yuri was fuming in front of them, with a look on his face that suggested he had just found a fish carcass on the bottom of his shoe, firmly attached by a thick slathering of crap. “Yuri,” Victor sighed, thoroughly agitated at the interruption. “Please, just—” “Yuri!” Yuuri sprang out of Victor’s lap and jumped on Yuri, folding him into a tight hug and resting his cheek on Yuri’s blonde head the way Victor had earlier. “You have the same name as me! We’re brothers!” If Yuri were a book, he would have “first degree murder” written across his forehead. Victor popped up too, looking for a way to contain the situation. “Yuuri,” he said but then backtracked when Yuri P. glared and Yuuri K. gazed lovingly at him at the same time. “Ah… Nurse Yuuri, I think he needs some space.” “Yeah, back off, Dr. Dumbass!” Yuri said and pushed Yuuri K. off. Yuuri giggled and playfully tapped Yuri P.’s nose. “Not a doctor.” “But you’re still incrediblly dumb, aren’t you? Stupid now as you were when—” He hesitated as Victor gave him a warning look. “When what, twin?” “When you were born,” Yuri spat, “now fuck off.” Victor winced at the unnecessary rudeness but Yuuri only smiled dopily, somehow making the look adorable. “You are very, very aggressive,” he said, “and you think you’re better than me.” “I’m the only Yuri,” Yuri growled and took a step to Yuuri who didn’t back down. “You’re being brave, but you must know that I’ve met cotton balls with more bite than you.”
“Excuse me?!”
“Oh,” Yuuri said as if he genuinely thought Yuri hadn’t heard him, and he reached around Victor to pick up the champagne bottle. He took a swig and said in a deliberate and loud voice, “I THINK COTTON BALLS ARE TOUGHER THAN YOU.” “DO YOU WANNA FIGHT, PIG?!” “Yep,” Yuuri nodded and beamed, making Victor’s heart stop. He stepped between the two and held his hands up to Yuuri. “Woah, Yuuri, he’s just a kid,” he said and Yuuri swerved around Victor to see the teen again. “Don’t care. You. Me. Dance-off. Right here. Right now.” “What?!” This time Victor chorused his disbelief with his brother. “You heard me,” Yuuri burbled and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “This is a dance party after all.” Yuri grimaced. “This is a birthday party, you—” Yuuri threw up his arms to the party at large making Victor and Yuri stumble back. “This is a dance party because I’m here and I’m a dancer!” The other guests were starting to look, stopping their conversations to peer over at them. The attention seemed to embolden Yuuri who hopped up on a chair. Victor swallowed his tongue as he watched. “I will beat everyone in this room in a dance-off! And then, I’ll beat you!” He smirked at Yuri who was as red as Victor felt. But for some reason, he didn’t want this to stop. People were laughing and crowding interestedly around them now as Yuuri jumped down from his chair. He gave Yuri a devilish grin. “What do you say?” “You’re on,” Yuri said, to Victor’s surprise. “If I win,” he mused, crossing his arms with the bottle still in hand. He seemed as if he was really thinking, eyebrows scrunched together with the effort before his face lit up. “You have to give me a hug and say ‘Yuuri Katsuki is my big brother.’” “You’re on crack if you think I’m saying that! Yuri shrieked and the crowd laughed. Victor covered his mouth with his hand to hide his grin. Yuuri shrugged and hugged the bottle to his chest. “I don’t mind changing the conditions. You can say ‘Yuuri Katsuki is my mom’, instead. And,” he said loudly over Yuri’s angry protests and the uproar of laughter, “if you win…” “I’m gonna kick your ass,” Yuri growled. “Mmmm, you can try,” Yuuri crooned. “I did MMA in college after all,” and he burst out in voiceless cackles, leaning on Victor’s shoulder as if they were both in on the joke. Yuri shook his head in disgust and disbelief. “What the hell is—” “So it’s settled,” Yuuri interrupted again to matter-of-factly address the room. “If I win, you all become my kids, and if just one person wins, everyone will try their best to beat me up.” Victor put a concerned hand on Yuuri’s shoulder, “Ah, those aren’t exactly the terms—” “Who’s up first?!” Yuuri called to cheers and to Victor’s amusement, it was 88 who stepped forward giggling. She handed her drink to Felix before giving Yuuri a playful little bow which he returned. “Shall we?” she asked. “If you’re not scared,” Yuuri teased and handed Victor his champagne bottle. From then on, the entire mood of the party changed. It wasn’t bad before because, after all, it was Chris who’d planned it, but it wasn’t nearly as lively as it was now with everyone clapping, laughing, and dancing their hearts out. Yuuri breathed a hot electric energy into the room. For someone who was so clearly very drunk, he moved like he’d been dancing since he came out of the womb. Every twist and turn, every step and dip was graceful. He moved like he had already won and Victor couldn’t take his eyes off him. Some people had begun to record the dance battles on their phones and Victor could kick himself for not doing the same. He was so caught up in the real thing he was unable to do anything except keep his eyes glued to Yuuri’s shining face. He hurriedly took his phone out by the time Yuuri had moved on to challenging Felix in a heated K-pop face-off. There was no denying Yuuri’s magnetic pull. Even Yuri P. seemed to have calmed down enough to enjoy himself. Chris came over to stand next to Victor (he supposed Fabian was trying his best to put distance between himself and Chris without jeopardizing his own job). He took a sip of the beer in his hand before leaning closer. “Best decision I ever made,” he said triumphantly as he watched Yuuri and Felix pop and lock. “He’s still going,” Victor said in awe. Chris nudged Victor’s side to get him to look at him. “Stamina for days,” he said with a wink. “He must be trained,” Victor said and turned back to the dance, pretending not to notice the implication. Victor’s guests suffered honorable loss after loss before Yuuri skipped over to Victor to lean on his shoulder. “Whew!” he sighed as he fanned himself. “At this rate, I’m in danger of sobering up.” Victor chuckled. “Are you the type who can only dance when they’re drunk?” “I could dance in my sleep,” he said gravely. “Any genre. Any place. Any time.” “You’re amazing,” Victor said, making Yuuri preen. “He’s not bad, I guess,” Chris smiled over his drink. Yuuri blinked and there was a pause. Victor wondered if he should say something... “You wily slut,” he said with all the mild disbelief of someone who just told him that they’ve never tried his favorite flavor of ice cream. Victor choked. “Take your clothes off.”
“Excusez-moi?”
“Tu m’etends.” Yuuri returned silkily and began unbuttoning his shirt. Both Chris’ and Victor’s eyes widened as he stripped down to his underwear and threw his pants over his shoulder, hitting Victor in the face. “Let’s go.” “I-” Chris closed his eyes and shook his head. “I have no idea how I can say no to that,” and he handed his drink to Victor so he could obey. “But, Fabian—” “There’s a lot of slack on these, remember?” He held up his cuffed wrist for Victor. He had no excuse to stop this. He caught a glimpse of Fabian some distance away staring in utter shock and horror when he realized Chris was taking his clothes off. “Not bad… I’ll show you not bad, Giacometti…” He heard Yuuri mumble as he turned to stalk to the nearest pole. And here Victor thought that it was useless for Chris to host his party in the dance studio. He also couldn’t help but notice the bandages peppering Yuuri’s torso. Was it really safe for him to be exerting himself like this in that condition? If it wasn’t, Victor supposed it would be too late to say so. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been dancing his perfect butt off for the past half hour. He watched as Yuuri grabbed hold of the pole and tip-toed a wide circle around it. When people realized what was happening, they cheered and the flurry of phones reappeared to capture the moment. Yuuri looked over his shoulder at the DJ who changed the song to something with more bass. He closed his eyes and threw his head back, letting the music sink into him, and Victor guessed he must’ve felt something because he moved his shoulders to the beat and raised his hands to clap. The crowd roared and clapped too. Victor wondered, with what he knew was a stupid grin on his face, if the man before him was really just a nurse because Yuuri riled the audience up as if he were getting paid a fortune to do it. Most people knew the song and they belted out the lyrics making the space seem that much bigger. Yuuri danced as if it was his space though, his world that everyone else was just a guest in. He was rolling his back and hips like every movement was a special treat. Yuuri turned on his heel and his gaze was like a whip snapping on Chris as he beckoned him closer with a finger. Chris rose valiantly to the challenge and sashayed forward. Yuuri somehow got his hands on another champagne bottle and he danced with it in his hand with Chris as both his partner and his rival. He moved with him and was still clearly trying to outshine him— and succeeding. Victor couldn’t take his eyes off him and if he had, he would’ve regretted missing Yuuri lifting himself airily off the ground to spin around the pole. Chris followed him. Everyone went nuts. Axle covered Yuri’s eyes. Fabian smacked a hand over his face. Yuuri took a sip from his bottle and before Victor knew it, he was upside down and winking. At the end, both Chris and Yuuri were drenched in champagne and taking a bow to rapturous applause. It seemed that 88 was taking pity on Yuri P. then; giggling, she and Spotlight cornered Yuuri and began the process of wrestling him back into his clothes when he least expected it. He was mid-bow, arms spread out in front of him in a grand arc, when they took the opportunity to slip his hands through the sleeves of his shirt. “Yuuri,” 88 scolded with all the edge of a corner of butter, “Yuri P. is just a kid… you gotta… you gotta put your clothes back on!” “I’ll settle for eighty percent decent,” Spotlight grunted as they hoisted Yuuri’s pants back up his waist making Victor slap his hand over his face to hide the ugly laugh that just escaped him. Yuuri stopped fighting then. “Oh, well then if it’s for Yuri…” he took his pants in his own hands and zipped them up before buttoning his shirt up, missing a few along the way, but nonetheless eighty percent acceptable, with the top left open to reveal a delicious dip in his chest. “Yuri!” he trilled, spotting the teen in the crowd. It seemed Victor wasn’t the only one hiding his laughter, but the teen’s eyes bugged out of his head as he tried to run. “Your turn!” “Ah, no, no, no,” Yuri shook his head frantically as Yuuri snatched his wrists, just in time to drag him on to the dance floor. Several minutes of hip-hop and breakdancing later, Yuuri was lovingly cradling a furious Yuri P. in his arms. “I won,” he crooned, contentedly resting his cheek atop the blonde head beneath him. “You know the rules, Yuri.” Yuri struggled to wrench Yuuri K.’s arms from around him, “I am not —” “Please? Pretty please?” “No. And you’re sticky! Get off — ” Yuuri sighed, “That’s ok. You’re still my beautiful, talented son.” Everyone laughed, drowning out Yuri P.’s vehement protests. Yuuri looked up and his eyes found Victor’s. He released Yuri and glided easily towards him. “How could I forget the most important competitor of all?” he shook his head at himself, burning eyes never leaving Victor’s as if they were intent on setting his icy blue ones aflame. “I know,” Victor teased, trying his best not to swallow his tongue this time, “I’m hurt, Yuuri. It is my birthday, after all.” Yuuri reached for an abandoned champagne flute on a nearby table and downed its contents. Victor watched, not without a pinch of shame, at a small rogue drop that streaked down his chin to traverse a gentle line in his neck… “You’re right,” he nodded and set the flute down. Victor hurried to meet his eyes again. “I should be focusing on you.” Yuuri stepped into his space and Victor felt the crackling of electricity in his stomach. He swallowed. Yuuri smiled. Gentle hands rested on his shoulders, tracing a teasing path to their own separate destinations: Yuuri’s right hand in Victor’s left, his left on the small of Victor’s back. Yuuri pulled him closer; only a breath could fit between their chests, and Victor worried that Yuuri would feel his heart racing. Too late to worry about that now though. And besides, Victor thought as he watched Yuuri’s eyes flutter shut and a satisfied grin spread across his flushed face, his dancing partner didn’t seem to mind one bit. Yuuri didn’t move his feet but swayed gently with Victor as if trying to rock him to a lullaby that only he could hear. Victor was happy with just that, found it endearingly funny, actually. Yuuri’s head fell against his chest and he hummed into Victor’s shirt, a deep, drawn out sound bordering on a moan; if it were day time, Victor’s head would be flames so he knew he must be embarrassingly red right now. He chanced a glance up to see if anyone was watching. Of course, Chris was; he found the green eyes blown wide at him, eyebrows raised, his mouth slightly agape over Fabian’s shoulder. Victor shot him a dirty look. Shut up! He mouthed at him. Chris shrugged dramatically around Fabian’s broad back, his arms resting on the wide shoulders, before mouthing back: I didn’t say anything!
You don’t have to!
What?!
I’m gonna kill you!
Chris licked his lips and blew a kiss at him and Victor was about to mouth something seething back before he realized that 88 and Spotlight were huddled together right next to Chris, giggling and casting Victor furtive looks. Victor spun Yuuri elegantly so that Victor’s back was to the peanut gallery. Yuuri laughed dreamily at the movement and nuzzled further into his shirt. “Do you think that they’ll turn on a slow song if I ask nicely?” He asked Yuuri mostly to distract himself from the probing attention he knew he was getting from his friends behind him. “I don’t think that there’s a person in the world who could say no to you,” Yuuri hummed. “And it is your party.” “It is my party, isn’t it. Oh, but going to the DJ means letting go of you,” he moaned with mostly fake anguish. “Oh nooo,” Yuuri moaned to match Victor but soon succumbed to silly giggling, “you’re right! Well…” Yuuri looked up at him with those burning eyes and a roguish grin. The music changed. A deep bass blared through the speakers accompanied by sizzling flute notes; the effect was almost instantaneous as the guests began jumping on the balls of their feet, swinging their hips, and moving to the remixed Latin beat. “This is fun too!” Yuuri exclaimed and spun out from him, all electric energy and heat, still holding one of Victor’s hands with the other outstretched behind him. He made his way back into Victor’s arms, shimmying on each step and looking down at himself, smiling, as if he knew he looked good and didn’t want to miss a second of it. He took control then—Victor was more than happy to let him, he was grinning so hard he thought he’d never stop—and began the heated steps of a salsa. It was as if the music was coming from somewhere deep in Yuuri’s heart, the way he moved, and Victor wanted nothing more than to sink into it to find the source. He could feel Yuuri’s energy, rhythm radiating from his palms into Victor’s and rolling down his chest in a body roll… Oh, and now it was a samba—and then it was fire, then it was life, it was a tango across the floor, it was a dip that turned Victor’s world upside down before Yuuri pulled him right side up again, it was Yuuri, Yuuri, Yuuri, pulling him in like the Sun, and Victor was amazed that he could match every step and turn as if gravity itself was commanding him. No matter how far across the floor the dance sequence pushed him, he always found his way back. Whether it was to hands clapping the beat, an infectious smile, or arms raised to make room for swivelling hips, it was Yuuri he found his way back to, first and foremost, Yuuri who knew the next move no matter where Victor’s hands landed on his body, Yuuri who seemed to be the only other person in the room. Victor couldn’t leave him if he tried. Not that he wanted to. His back was on Victor’s chest, dancing a side step that Victor was able to follow like a magnet, and he brought his hand up to rest possessively on the back of Victor’s neck. Victor’s eyes flew shut, relishing in the firm grip, the heat beneath the finger tips that wandered up into his hair and then back down. Yuuri turned his face towards Victor’s, his grin tantalizingly close to his jawline, breath tickling his skin, but never stopped the rhythm. He rolled his hips back, teasingly, laughed, then spun around to face Victor, throwing his arms around his neck. Victor could only watch mesmerized, a stupid and very permanent feeling grin plastered on his face because Yuuri was still allowing him to rest his hands on his hips, waiting for it even. Or maybe it was because he was drunk too. He’d lost count of the glasses of champagne he had earlier that night… They continued to sashay to the beat like that, even as the song came to an end, and Victor rested his forehead against Yuuri’s, never feeling more pleased to be positively breathless. “You’re right,” Victor panted, “you are an amazing dancer.” Yuuri laughed, high and pleased. “Told you.” He looked up at Victor and his eyes widened as if he had just noticed something. “Victor…” “W-what?” “Your jawline,” he breathed, and pulled his hands down to cradle Victor’s face. He tried not to close his eyes again at the touch even as Yuuri traced his thumbs along his jaw. “This is the jawline of a hero.” Victor chuckled quietly, “What do you mean?” “The hard line of justice.” Victor threw his head back and laughed so hard that he lost his breath and nearly choked. He came back, still chuckling breathlessly, to rest his forehead back on Yuuri’s. “You even look like a hero, Victor,” he whispered. “Stop that,” he breathed back, smiling, as he scolded him with a tight squeeze on his hips. Yuuri gasped at the pressure—Victor was tempted to do it again. “You should teach me how to be a hero.” “Teach you?” “Yeah! You can be my coach and teach me to be a hero like you!” “Ah, Yuuri,” Victor chuckled and stroked one of his hands up Yuuri’s back soothingly, “but you are a hero. You’re a nurse.” He leaned down to whisper in his ear, “You’re my hero.” Yuuri closed the already minute gap between them, pressing his body on Victor’s. “I mean more than that,” he said quietly, but Victor could still hear the force in his tone which only made his smile wider. “You are more. You’re absolutely perfect,” he said, and squeezed Yuuri again. Yuuri gave him a short, calculating look then rested his head in the crook of Victor’s neck, his arms still wrapped around his shoulders. Victor was happy to just hold him like that and he wished, like a kid, that Christmas would never end. Yuuri hummed— Victor felt it more than heard it— then rolled his hips into Victor’s, rough and slow. A fuse blew out in his head. His skin tingled like he had pop rocks in his veins. What? His mouth formed the word but it came out as a breathy gasp as Yuuri grinded into him again. “You would flirt with me when I’m being serious,” Yuuri pouted into his shirt then fixed him with the most radiant smile. “Be my coach, Victor! I wanna be a hero like you!”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Phichit hadn’t been keeping track of how long his foot was tapping, but when he stopped, his thigh was sore from it. He kept checking the time on his phone, breath turning to fog in the winter air on the screen as he did. Yuuri was late. Really late. It wasn’t like him. He looked up for what was at least the hundredth time to check the roof’s edge for any sign of a black mop of hair peeking up, but there was nothing. It was Christmas; a drowsy dampened mixture of carols, cars, and laughter served as a festive change to the white noise he was accustomed to. But there were no Yuuri sounds. He couldn’t stop his fingers from switching open the contacts on his phone even though he knew he couldn’t risk contacting Yuuri like that now. That was the whole point of him sending the encrypted message — Yuuri would know this. That’s why he would be punctual, or at least let Laszlo know if he was going to be late. Finding his resolve, he called Laszlo; he was greeted by raucous cheers, shouting, and what sounded like the cheap holiday cover of a heavy metal song. “Happy Holidays onto ya!” Laszlo boomed but Phichit wasn’t quite in the mood for small talk. “Where is he?” “He ain’t there yet?” At that, Phichit hung up and got to his feet to start pacing. What could have happened and what could he do? Yuuri was off from his nursing job today. He also had no reason to be going after any gems when he was supposed to be laying low; Phichit hoped that Yuuri’s rough brush with death and its deliverer would be a sufficient enough reason to keep his head down until the two of them had time to talk. But Yuuri was always stubborn — always. He hated taking Phichit’s help but Yuuri’s recklessness required it at every turn. He never listened to Phichit about ending things with Fujiwara — did Yuuri intend to keep this up his entire life? Did he expect Phichit to keep this up?! Surely he could see just how naive and narrow he was being. Surely Yuuri could see that he wasn’t keeping his family alive so much as he was delaying their execution date! He, a man who was raised by the yakuza and trained by an assassin, should know exactly what Fujiwara had in store for him, and yet Yuuri refused to even entertain the idea of — “Oop!” Phichit jumped and caught himself before he dropped his phone at the little sound; he turned to see someone clumsily dragging themselves onto the roof, trying again and again to lift their knee over the side. After scrabbling at the edge a few times, they finally managed to hoist themselves up enough to roll on to the ground. “Didn’t mean to scare you… but I’m waiting for a friend so you gotta go,” they mumbled and pointed a matter of fact finger in the air. Phichit squinted in the dark. “Yuuri?” “I’m Yuuri.” “Yuuri!” Phichit clenched his fists and bit into his lip to keep from screaming in anger. He was relieved, yes, but pissed. “You’re late! I thought you’d been carted off to Ares Island or worse, killed!” “No, no, no, no,” Yuuri jumped to his feet but it looked like he had done it too quickly and he stretched out his hands in front of him to get his bearings before standing straight. “They didn’t kill me, they were partying.” “What are you talking about? Who was partying?” “All of them were!” Yuuri cried cheerfully with a little twirl. He had what looked like a large plastic bag in his hands. Before Phichit could get a good look at it, Yuuri had haphazardly twirled his way over to drape his arms around Phichit’s shoulders. “It was a birthday party and we danced!” “Are you…” Phichit caught the distinct smell of champagne wafting from Yuuri and groaned. “Christ, Yuuri, are you drunk?!” “No, no, no, no, I can still walk!” Yuuri pulled him closer and Phichit groaned again. “I can dance, Phichit! I danced with VIC-tor!!” “What do you mean you danced with Vic—” Phichit’s breath caught in his throat as he remembered: Victor’s birthday party was the same day as Christmas. How had he forgotten that? Better yet, how could he have anticipated that Yuuri would even go?! Especially on a day that they had agreed to meet and especially since Yuuri cringed at the idea of going to his own birthday parties, let alone the party of a man he was supposedly trying to avoid! “What on Earth possessed you to go to Victor’s birthday party, Yuuri?” “I was gonna tell ‘im, Phichit,” Yuuri said in a dramatic hushed whisper, immediately catching Phichit’s attention, “I was gonna tell him everything! Just like you said I should.” “You what? A-at his party? Did you?” “Hmmm… I… I think so?” Phichit watched his eyebrows screw up in thought in the darkness. “Yeah I think I did… all his friends made me nervous so I said ‘GOTTA DRINK MY COURAGE’!” He shouted the last part and tried to dip Phichit but ended up bending backwards himself so that Phichit was supporting his weight in his arms. He pulled Yuuri back up straight by the wrists and sighed. If Yuuri was here and not at History Maker, there was no way that he actually told Victor anything. Or maybe he had and his brain was just too pickled to recall. Reckless. Again. But… he looked helplessly at Yuuri’s dopey grin and felt the anger seep out of him. He hated the feeling — he wanted to hold on to it a bit longer to let Yuuri know how serious he was but he just couldn’t… Yuuri had gone to that party, in his right mind, to tell Victor everything… He was listening to Phichit. He was asking for help. It was too bad that it took a major butt whooping to get the job done. But, if Phichit was to believe what Yuuri said, something stopped Yuuri from telling Victor the truth. “Why didn’t you tell Victor, bud? What happened?” “I did tell him,” he whined. “I definitely, definitely did. I just didn’t wanna do it in front of his friends. All of Victor’s friends are heroes. I wasn’t nice to them.” Understanding dawned on Phichit’s face and Yuuri leaned impossibly closer to him to whisper in his ear: “I think I punched the cat.” Phichit sighed again; Yuuri only giggled and hung in Phichit’s arms like a limp noodle. “You’re going to a hotel to sleep this off.” Yuuri gasped. “Sleepover!” * Phichit was still fairly certain that he couldn’t be seen with Yuuri quite yet, not with Yakov and the others sniffing around him, so he thought setting up the hotel for him would be tricky. But Yuuri assured Phichit that he could do it, that he wasn’t that drunk (he was), and that Phichit had nothing to worry about (there was plenty). So Phichit called the hotel, and made the reservation for Yuuri; he would meet up with Yurri the old fashioned way: by phasing into the walls undetected. After spending some time tapping his foot impatiently in Yuuri’s hotel room, he was positive that Yuuri had messed up somehow, maybe misspelled his own name at reception or admitted to being Red Specter to the bellhop, until Yuuri himself threw the door wide open. “Oh my...” he breathed in wonder, “Phichit!” Phichit raised a questioning eyebrow at him but Yuuri flung himself around Phichit’s shoulders again. “You’re so cute!” “Yuuri!” “I have the cutest best friend in the world!” Yuuri octopussed himself around Phichit and kissed his forehead. It had been a while since Yuuri was this drunk but Phichit remembered that he was cuddlier than cling wrap when he got like this. “You’re like a baby,” he cooed at Phichit and all he could do was try in vain to escape from his super drunk, super strong, best friend. “It’s just my face,” he strained against Yuuri’s arms. “I missed you sooo much!” “I missed you too, bud.” Yuuri sighed into his hair. “You smell good. L-like pizza,” he hiccupped, “Laszlo always smells like gasoline and money and he doesn’t even eat oreos.” “I do not smell like pizza!” Phichit protested with another vain attempt to push a giggling Yuuri off of him. He sniffed his sleeve; he did not smell like pizza. Yuuri squeezed him and rubbed his shoulders. “I want you to c-come home,” he murmured. Phichit sighed long before deciding it was best to try a different approach. He nodded at the plastic bag that was still hanging off of Yuuri’s wrist. “What’s in the bag?” “Present!” That did the trick; he let go of Phichit so that he could hold the bag out, but the force he used to hold it up seemed to be too much and knocked him flat onto the bed. He giggled as he tried to pull himself into a sitting position. “Present for you!” Phichit took it — it was heavier than he expected — and Yuuri grinned sloppily at him. He looked inside. There were at least seven packs of oreos stacked under one bag of plain peanuts. He lifted the nuts up at Yuuri and shook them as a question. Yuuri shrugged. “I was gonna, uh, cook.” Yuuri got up and pulled Phichit into another hug. That was it — he couldn’t pretend anymore. Phichit laughed at how ridiculous Yuuri was and hugged him back. Once he started laughing, he couldn’t stop which made Yuuri whine and hug him tighter. “W-what were you going to cook, Yuuri?!” “Your noodles! You like n-noodles!” “We don’t live together anymore!” “Nooo!” “I’m sorry!” “No, I’m sorry!” “For what?” “I’m so, so, so sorry,” Yuuri began to whimper and Phichit felt him quiver in his arms. “I’m sorry…” “Yuuri…?” He pulled back to see that tears were welling in Yuuri’s eyes but Yuuri buried his face in Phichit’ shoulder. “What… why are you crying?” “Because I’ve been a bad friend and I’m so sorry! I love you so much, Phichit! I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you—” “Yuuri, you’re not a bad friend—” “I’ve been the worst. I was so mean and I wasted sooo much time being all mad and all I want is you as my best friend forever and ever and ever and I’m so sorry, Phichit!” Yuuri blubbered into Phichit’s shoulder, shocking him. “I didn’t wanna hurt you! You’ve been alone a-all this time and I promised you that you wouldn’t b-be alone and I’m so sorry, it’s all my fault!” “You… you didn’t hurt me, Yuuri, I’m OK,” Phichit said as he tried to pat Yuuri comfortingly. “Nooo,” Yuuri moaned pathetically, “let me be sorry.” “Well, then I accept your apology,” Phichit half laughed and gave Yuuri a squeeze. “Does this mean you trust me again?” Yuuri sniffled and blubbered for a minute and Phichit waited with just a few twisting nerves in his gut for the answer. “I know you would never hurt me. And I love you.” “I love you too,” Phichit sighed and pushed him firmly off, “but you’re getting tears on my suit.” Yuuri still managed to find his way back into Phichit’s arms to plant another messy kiss on his forehead. He felt Yuuri wipe his wet cheeks clean on his shoulder and Phichit groaned in protest. “You’re my best friend in the whooole world and I’m gonna protect you,” he mumbled into the same shoulder that he had gotten wet with his tears. He rocked Phichit back and forth; he could only sigh in defeat. “Protect me, Yuuri,” Phichit placated. Yuuri gasped and pushed Phichit back as if an idea had punched him in the face. “I’m — you’re gonna protect yourself. I’m gonna teach you. Give a man a fish for dinner...”
“What?”
“I’m gonna teach you how to fight, Pea-chan.” “Ah, that name…” he groaned in protest. “Look,” Yuuri said, a much sterner tone taking over his hazy, dopey one. He grabbed Phichit firmly by the hips. “I’ll tell you what Minako told me. It’s aaall about this. It’s all in the hips.” “So I’ve been told…” Phichit rolled his eyes lazily. “I don’t think I need this kind of advice, Yuuri. I’m a speedster, remember?” Yuuri hummed happily but his grip tightened; it was brief, but painful enough to make Phichit wince. “One day, you’re gonna be sleepy. Or your shoe’s gonna be, y-you know. Untied. Then what?” Point taken. Yuuri released him only to place his hands on Phichit’s shoulders to trace quickly down his front stopping just above his belt. If it were anyone else, Phichit would say they were flirting with him, but this was Yuuri, and he knew better. He knew touchy, feely, sappy, drunk Yuuri who was, admittedly, much more fun to be around when Phichit was drunk too. He narrowed his eyes at his friend for being ridiculous (couldn’t he tell that Phichit was too sober for this?), wondering exactly when he should attempt to get Yuuri to try sleeping. “This,” Yuuri began, “is called A .”
“A?”
“A means, absolutely under no circumstances should anyone touch this . No touchy.” “You’re touching me now.” “I’m your teacher, I’m — I’m supposed to touch you. And this,” Yuuri plowed on before Phichit could point out the horrible flaw in his logic. He squatted and gestured vaguely with his hands to everything below Phichit’s belt and above his knees. “This is B. B like butt… or butt power… no it means base.” “Yuuri, I was serious when I said—” “Minako said it means foundation but that’s not a B word. So, for us, it’s butt power.” Yuuri stood back up and traced from Phichit’s shoulders down to his wrists, bent down to trace from his knees to ankles, and almost fell forward to smack his forehead on the ground before springing back to his feet. “That’s C.” “Does C mean could you not?” Phichit huffed, feeling more than over handled. Yuuri’s eyes grew in his head, his mouth falling open in wonder. “Yes,” he breathed, “it does. Like… they could, and most people will try, but they probably shouldn’t, if you know what you’re doing, you know?” “No.” “Shhh, just wait,” he reached for Phichit’s hands and balled them into fists between them. “These bad… bad babies and your feets are D. D means—” “Danger Zone—” “Don… why danger zone?” He wrinkled his brows in intense confusion. “I don’t know, I’m just a student…” “It’s don, like… hold on, back up,” he said, waving his hands between them so Phichit took a few steps away to give him a little space. “Don like DON!” he said forcefully, punctuating a swift punch in the air, inches from the tip of Phichit’s nose. He could tell it was clean, quick. Phichit knew that if it were anyone else standing there instead of him, they would have been shocked by the movement, perhaps blinked in confusion or stumbled backwards. But, he was a speedster after all, and the whole world had always been so slow to him. He clapped politely. “I see,” he nodded. “Don. Like attacking power.” “Yes, yes, yes, attacking DON! C’mon, try to hit me.” “OK,” Phichit shrugged and gave Yuuri a lightning fast jab to the shoulder. Yuuri gripped the spot dramatically and fell back onto the bed, howling crocodile tears. “No cheating,” he began to giggle. “Normal speed, I’m not that fast.” “Fine,” Phichit rolled his eyes, not seeing the point, but he couldn’t help but enjoy the silly moment. He reached down to grab Yuuri to his feet the more it became evident that the giggles were weighing heavily on his chest. “Again, but slow for me.” “Doctor’s orders…” Phichit said, and he didn’t bother to go comically slow; Yuuri would just make him do it again. He went straight for an uppercut, prepared to stop in case Yuuri’s reflexes were too watered down by champagne, but Yuuri had easily batted his hand away with a silly grin. Phichit tried again but Yuuri deflected. He huffed; maybe he had been slower than he intended — he wasn’t used to holding his punches — so he kicked it up a notch. He sucked his teeth because he knew as he raised his fist, it was too fast and that Yuuri actually would be hit this time so he needed to move over some, to soften it. In an eighteenth of a second, he found Yuuri’s eyes and his heart started pounding. They were burning. Focused. Yuuri bowed forward — good, he dodged — so Phichit expected to hit the air. He blinked, winced at a tight pain in his shoulder, and found himself laying face first on the carpet. “You cheated again! I said go slow!” “How… what…?” Phichit spluttered and looked up behind his shoulder at Yuuri who was finding it hard to decide between giggling and pouting. “Sometimes, they’ll grab you by the... could you not,” he said, bending to grab Phichit’s forearm and he gasped as Yuuri pulled it up behind him, “so they can get straight to your absolutely under no circumstance.” Yuuri stepped firmly on the center of his back and he felt a twinge of panic. It was Yuuri, but still. It felt too real. “Get it?” “Yes, now can I get up please?” Yuuri let go and Phichit zipped to his feet. No sooner had he smoothed the wrinkles in his suit jacket than Yuuri wrestled him out of it, complaining in whiny Japanese that it was restricting Phichit’s movement. Yuuri tossed it on the bed behind him then turned back to Phichit. “Ok, again,” he said, waving Phichit forward. Phichit raised a fist, watching Yuuri’s eyes intently now, but Yuuri’s shoulders slumped. “Phichit…” “What?” “The butt.”
“What?”
“B for butt power. Gotta use…” Yuuri grunted his frustration; it seemed words were escaping him, so he slid his foot between Phichit’s two to widen his stance. Then he patted his thighs and the small of his back muttering “b” under his breath as he adjusted Phichit’s posture. Considering Yuuri’s drunkenness, Phichit had his misgivings (and still did), but he was starting to feel the difference. He felt steadier, more in control. Like he had a foundation. Yuuri tapped low on the back of his thigh. “Power comes from here and goes waaaay…” he traced his finger up his thigh, over his back, down the shoulder, and across his arm, before squeezing Phichit’s fist with more force than was necessary, “up here to DON! C isn’t power,” he explained, tapping the shoulder of Phichit’s raised arm, “ b is.” He tapped the first spot on the back of Phichit’s thigh. “Now try it.” Phichit took a minute to wait for Yuuri to struggle back up into a straight stance. Then, he took another second to think and feel what Yuuri was talking about. He tried a more straight forward punch this time, using more of his body to put more strength into his fist, and aimed for Yuuri’s chest. Yuuri caught his wrist between his hands in a clap and beamed. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, that was so good! So much better. And you know,” he grabbed both of Phichit’s hands, balled them into fists, and raised them in front of Phichit in a defensive position, “ Could you not protects your absolutely under no circumstance . That’s why they wanna grab at it. Just like Andy Fitzgerald did… hic… did back at the Grand Prix when he was picking on you and called you a mosquito...” Phichit blinked. “Andy? You still remember that? I dodged.” “Yeah. Still wanted to hurt ‘im though.” Phichit laughed. “We were just kids. Andy’s an adult now. A three star hero in Berlin, last I heard.” “He was a jerk.” “Yuuri,” Phichit snorted, “I wouldn’t be surprised if Andy still has nightmares about you. You won’t admit it but I know you talked to him. I’d get proof if I had time or cared enough.” Yuuri said something angry in what he was certain was Sanuki Japanese — he didn’t catch it but he still imagined Yuuri brushing him off with a flimsy cover which made him laugh. He mumbled it lazily which made Phichit relax but Yuuri swiped like a snake and his forearm was in his friend’s grip who immediately let him go. “Andy wasn’t a pro. If they’re pros, they’re going for your absolutely area,” he continued his crash course lesson, clearly avoiding the topic of teen Yuuri’s involvement with Phichit’s bullies. He suddenly felt extremely sorry for Andy Fitzgerald. “If this is just a hobby… they’ll settle for your could you not.” Phichit shuddered to think about the implication as he remembered that Minako had taught him all of these things. A hobby…He imagined Fujiwara had plenty of guys with similar “hobbies”. Yuuri raised his hands in a similar defensive stance. “You’re a star, Pea-chan—” “That name ,” Phichit groaned. “— so you wanna go for the absolutely. C’mon, try.” “Yuuri,” he sighed before dropping his hands in defeat. He studied tech and interpersonal relationships at the Grand Prix, not combat or anything close to it. Outside of basic fitness classes and intro combat classes in his first year, he had no experience, unlike Yuuri who was clearly a weapon even when drunk. “What if I can’t get to the absolutely under no circumstance?” “Then you better make them believe with every bone in their body that your number one hobby is breaking their could you not’s.” Phichit wrinkled his nose at him and scoffed, “And just who am I fighting in these imaginary scenarios of yours?” “I dunno,” Yuuri mumbled, dropping his stance and swaying on his feet a bit, “who are you fighting?” Phichit stared at him, feeling a bit cold at the flicker of sobriety that passed over his friend in that moment, because he, Yuuri, had seen something. He’d understood. Phichit had another secret, one that he of course couldn’t share, that was eating him alive. Yuuri looked at him helplessly, almost like a child and Phichit didn’t know what to say; his tongue felt heavy and dry in his mouth. “Nobody,” he lied. Yuuri’s crooked smile came back. “That’s not true. You were gonna kick Lam’s ass. You told me.” “Got me.” Yuuri made Phichit raise his fists defensively again and explained that D should never touch his A, so he should use his C to deflect, although it was ideal if none of it was touched at all by any of the alphabets. It was starting to make sense; Yuuri continued to stress that Phichit’s main goal should be to attack his opponent’s A, that he should never let anyone think that C was his endgame, his destination, because they would think him weak if he did. Even if Phichit used C as a means to get to A — “It’s gonna look like you’re going for the kill, even if you’ve —” “Got them pinned on the floor with their arm trapped on their back?” Phichit huffed into the carpet, “Yeah, I get it. Make them piss their pants with fear because—” “Fear is your friend.” Yuuri let Phichit go. He got to his feet again, his pride just a bit cracked. “Is this really what Minako taught you? At sixteen?” “Mhmm,” he nodded. “I miss her.” “Yeah?” “Yeah,” Yuuri pulled him into yet another hug and brought him down on top of him on the bed. He kissed the top of Phcihit’s head several more times before groaning. “I think all of this teaching is making me sober up.” “I really don’t think so,” Phichit gasped as he finally pushed his head above Yuuri’s arm for air. “You don’t have to worry about any of that stuff, Pea-chan,” Yuuri waved a dismissive hand and hugged Phichit impossibly tighter to nuzzle his cheek into the top of his head as if Phichit was just a giant teddy bear for Yuuri to squeeze. “If someone bothers you, just call me and I’ll kill them for you.” Phichit cackled, “You wouldn’t kill anybody.” Yuuri hummed, “If you asked me to… I would.” “Good to know.” He shifted off of Yuuri to lay on his side. He looked at the silly grin that was gradually growing slack, his eyes drooping closed; Yuuri was trying valiantly to fight it, brown eyes blinking hard, going wide, only to droop closed again. “Yuuri?” “Hmm? I’m not sleep…” “I’m proud of you.” “What?” “I’m really, really proud of you,” Phichit said. The night was over. Yuuri was drunk. He wouldn’t remember any of the details of the plan Phichit had made for him even if Phichit tried to tell him but it didn’t matter. It was time to let go because Yuuri could protect himself. There was no use in wasting these last few minutes. There was no use in trying to be a “control freak”, as Chris had so delicately put it, until the end. He patted Yuuri’s cheek firmly when his eyes drooped closed. “Hey, hey.” “I’m awake!” “I said I’m proud of you.” “‘M proud of you too.” Phichit smiled. He felt the tears coming but he fought them back. “I want you to believe in yourself, Yuuri, and quit being so stubborn. It’s OK,” his voice cracked and he swallowed, “it’s OK to ask for help when you need it.” “I know…” “I need you to really know that, Yuuri.” “No... I know,” he nodded vaguely. Phichit half laughed but realized he was just choking down a sob. He dug the heel of his palm into one of his eyes before he looked at Yuuri again. “I wish you weren’t drunk right now,” Phichit said and the tears finally won. Yuuri’s eyes widened in alarm and he reached up to clumsily wipe at Phichit’s eyes. “W-what? No…” “I mean it’s probably for the best because I really don’t want you to worry about me… I mean,” he huffed, his chest feeling like something was crumbling inside, “I do, I do want you to worry, I think. Or I think I just don’t want you to forget me. I don’t want you to think that… that…” “No! Phichit… I don’t—” Yuuri frantically wiped more tears from Phichit’s face even as tears began to well in his own eyes, confusion and pain both blossoming and drowning under the wave of sleep that was slowly gaining strength. “I want you to remember me as your friend. Remember that I tried my best to protect you the way you protected me in school. I didn’t know how to talk to people or handle my own problems and it sucked so much because I just didn’t get school but…” his voice wavered with the effort it took to not give into the sob that was welling up — he’d never talked about this, never truly voiced his appreciation, “you got me. I had nobody, but you were always there. You always had my back. I’ll never forget that so please… just please remember that,” he grabbed both of Yuuri’s hands from his face to stop him from wiping Phichit’s tears. “Remember that you’re the best friend I’ve ever had.” “No, Phichit, I don’t understand!” Yuuri shook his head frantically. His tears were streaming into his ears and hair and he looked small and scared. “I don’t… where are you… please don’t go…” “I don’t think it’s fair for me to tell you I’m not leaving. Or to say nothing at all… that just seems wrong. I have to say goodbye, even if you won’t remember, or else I’ll never forgive myself,” Phichit choked and squeezed his eyes shut. “Maybe I’m just being selfish again, like back then. I can’t help it because I might not be able to see you again—” “No, no, no, Phichit, I’m sorry! Please don’t go! Please, I said I was sorry, so please—” “I’m not going yet, Yuuri. Not yet, but soon. You can go to sleep.” “But… no...you’re… I don’t understand… don’t go…I really am sorry...” “Go to sleep, Yuuri. And, I’m sorry too.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Victor thought someone had called his name but he was mistaken; when he looked over his shoulder, no one was paying attention to him or to Yuuri who was back in his lap, one arm wrapped around Victor’s neck and another hand on his chest. Everyone was still dancing, still eating. Even Chris had stopped teasing Victor long enough to set his sights on easier game: a Fabian who had long since acquiesced to his captive’s whims and was listening with some attention to an animated story. Victor turned back to Yuuri with a smile.
“There are plenty of openings, you know. You’d be perfect,” he leaned in until their noses touched. Yuuri stiffened. Victor’s question was written on his face.
“Bathroom,” Yuuri explained. His eyes were wide and his soft, languid hold on Victor was now rigid.
Victor immediately leaned back, “You OK?”
“Bathroom,” he repeated and was out of Victor’s lap to move quickly across the dance floor. He called after Yuuri to tell him he would wait for him to come back and jumped again when his brother shouted for him.
“What?” he called, turning to find him, but he wasn’t there. Victor reached for another champagne on his table, a tinge of annoyance pricking a migraine when he realized that his brother must’ve called his name earlier too, no doubt whining about Victor and Yuuri’s PDA… The moment he caught a whiff of the drink, his stomach rolled threateningly and he placed it down. He supposed he had had enough for the night. With a pang of sympathy, he realized that Yuuri might be feeling sick and he rushed after him.
He hadn’t been long; Victor soon caught up to him, right outside the hall bathroom doors. Yuuri startled when he heard Victor. Before Victor could assure him that everything was fine, that he just wanted to help, Yuuri stumbled backwards into the door.
*
“How long do we have to wait?”
“C’mon out. It’s still early.”
*
Victor froze. Surely Yuuri heard that too — the whispering voices — but they should’ve been alone. When he looked around to find the two culprits, they were no longer in the hall but on the dance floor, Yuuri pressed up against him, a dazzling smile on his face.
Ah. That’s right.
Yuuri asked Victor to teach him to be a hero. He returned Yuuri’s smile and spun him around.
“You really want to be a hero, Yuuri?”
“Of course,” he sang back, “it’s my dream!”
Victor hummed. “It’s awful work.”
“I know.”
“It doesn’t pay well when you start out.”
“I don’t want money.”
“Gets pretty lonely.”
“I’ll have you.”
“True,” Victor spun him with one hand. He gifted him a teasing smile. “What are your qualifications?”
“MMA,” Yuuri snickered. Victor was sure he should understand this joke, but he didn’t, though he still found himself laughing along.
“And?”
“I think... I could show you better than I can tell you.”
“Yuuri Katsuki, this is an interview. Now, if you don’t think you have what it takes to —”
“Stealth, infiltration, marksmanship, like eight forms of martial arts —”
“Eight? Really?” Victor gave him a dubious look that had all the strength of a dandelion seed.
“No, not really,” Yuuri smirked, “I was being modest. Oh, I’m fluent in four languages, passable in three more, advanced problem solving, learned in negotiation —”
“Yes, yes, all very impressive. Now, what I need to know is this: Is Yuuri Katsuki asking me how to be a hero or is it the champagne that’s asking?”
*
“It’s been ages, and it’s just sitting there…”
“Be patient.”
*
There was the whispering again. Victor looked over Yuuri’s shoulder. Yuri, his brother, was cackling and clinging to Robin’s arm who was wiping a tear from their eye. Next to them, Kenza was writing something on a stranger’s palm with a pen. A small group of cheering people were gathered around Felix who was trying to hoist himself onto a pole, but kept falling, giggling, to the floor. It must’ve been one of Chris’ friends who said it, about something sitting for ages... and Victor should just focus on Yuuri.
Yuuri who was pacing the bathroom. Yuuri, who was taking shuddering breaths, fists clenched at his sides, before he stopped in front of the mirror to grab the edge of the sink and bow his head. Victor hesitated before resting his hands on Yuuri’s shoulders to comfort him.
“T-take your time,” he whispered. “It’s… it’s going to be alright.” He listened to Yuuri’s ragged breaths disappear into the tiled walls until there was nothing but the dripping faucet breaking the silence. Was this a panic attack or was it just alcohol related? His mind was too fuzzy to think clearly, to decide what he should do, and the sober part of him that was trapped somewhere deep in his brain kicked him for not being sharper. “Water?” he offered.
A small, strange sound followed. Yuuri’s shoulders trembled. The sound grew louder and then Victor realized… Yuuri was laughing. Shocked, Victor let him go and took a step back.
“Oh… oh boy,” Yuuri breathed and wiped a tear away. His head was still bowed. “Oh boy, oh boy.”
“Yuuri,” he tried in spite of how lost in the water he felt, “you mentioned before that you needed to talk… Do you want to do that now or... do you need more time?”
“Why not both, Victor?”
He blinked. “Sorry?”
Looking at Yuuri’s blazing smile was like drowning in light and Victor was positive that a large part of the overwhelming tug he felt was due to the alcohol he had consumed. But, a small bit of him had always been soft for this dangerous nurse in his arms. This nurse with an uncanny dancing ability; Yuuri was still leading them flawlessly to the beat of the music while he answered:
“Both, Victor. It’s the champagne and me asking. I can’t — I can’t say stuff in my heart without a little push, you know? But that shouldn’t change things.”
“Suppose not,” Victor mouthed. Something was wrong. He couldn’t see Yuuri’s face anymore. The dance floor was suddenly too dark. He swiveled his head around and couldn’t find any familiar faces; they had all dissolved into smudges of shadows, imprints of boisterous laughter and singing, swaying and spinning in a dizzying blur of darkness twinkling with glitter. Someone must’ve turned off the lights. But nobody cared. Victor cared. He couldn’t see Yuuri. He heard his laughter though. He felt him rest his head back on Victor’s chest.
“What’s so funny,” Victor asked. “I can’t see.”
It seemed Yuuri didn’t hear him — the music was still loud after all. Victor hadn’t said it loud enough. Victor hadn’t said anything at all —
*
“That idiot.”
There was a grunt, “What did I say before? Come out.”
“He definitely drank too much.”
*
“I don’t think…” he dragged his hands down his face before holding them up in front of him; a sign to the world to pause for him. Yuuri waited. Only the dripping faucet broke the silence. “So, you were lying —”
“You understand why though...right?”
“I don’t —”
“He… he hurt my sister,” Victor thought Yuuri said, but he couldn’t be sure because his mind was transfixed on the faucet. Transfixed on the muffled booming of the party music outside the bathroom. Transfixed on the sounds of angry whispering. So Yuuri was muffled. He was saying someone was hurt and he was muffled, like he had a scarf over his mouth. Or something over his mouth.
“You understand, right?”
“I don’t understand…”
You understand.
Victor slapped a hand over his mouth when he felt a sickening tug in his stomach. Yep. he’d definitely over indulged and now he was spinning and spinning, and spinning with the world nothing but a shimmering smear of light flying past him as Yuuri guided him across the dance floor. He was so nauseous, but what bubbled up to his lips was joyous laughter and he couldn’t stop once he started because Yuuri was spinning with him and that was all that mattered. They may as well have been flying.
Yuuri shouted something over the music so Victor leaned in closer to hear:
“I need your help, Victor.” He froze on the spot, dragging Yuuri to a halt with him.
“You what?” It was still dark; he couldn’t see Yuuri’s face and he couldn’t remember when it had stopped bothering him. But that should definitely bother him because he missed that smile, he missed that demure blush, those brief glimpses of brilliance, he missed the real Yuuri Katsuki who was being hidden by this unnecessary curtain this, this…
Mask.
“Why do you have that?” He reached out slowly for Yuuri’s obscured face. His hand looked ghostly suspended in front of him. Before he could close his fingers, Yuuri vanished. Vanished from the dance floor, vanished from the bathroom, and the mix of music and a dripping faucet made his head throb because he was trying so hard to listen for a sign of Yuuri’s voice that it hurt.
“Where are you?” he called out, called into the bathroom mirror, where there was no reflection but he was sure Yuuri was there… Although logically he, Victor, should be the one in the reflection. He was the one in front of it after all. But that didn’t matter. Yuuri mattered. And Victor was sure he was there, somewhere trapped in the glass, and he wondered what he had to be, what reflection he needed to make, in order to break it, to set Yuuri free.
“I need your help.”
“Yuuri?” He pressed his hand against the cool, curiously blank surface. It stubbornly showed him the stalls, the door, the walls, but no Victor. No Yuuri.
“I need your help.” The voice was soft.
Victor pressed both hands against the glass mirror, “I—”
“I can’t do this alone anymore.”
*
“Don’t make me repeat myself. I said come
out.”
“I’m not even all the way in his room! And, look, he’s sitting up now.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
At the same time in the Alps...
When Phichit went back to the path leading to the hidden lab in the Alps the next day — this time with chatty company — he still felt emotionally raw, as if his heart had been run over by a tractor and he had picked it up, plucked the bits of road out of it, and decided it was still working enough to be used. But it hurt. It hurt so much and he didn’t want to open his mouth to say anything for fear that he’d start crying all over again. He had finally said goodbye to Yuuri, his best friend, and he wanted to take it all back. But he couldn’t. He could only hope that the promise of progress would distract him from his own problems long enough for him to forget how badly he needed to be alone right now.
Progress. For once since he was just a teenager, he had a lead and he was acting on it. So forget being alone. He was decidedly
not
alone at the moment, Scavenger and Laszlo’s incessant whining serving as a testament to that fact.
“And ya can forget about all of those favors,” Laszlo huffed over the low howl of the wind, for the upteenth time, “because this is it. We’re finished. Climbin’ a mountain trumps everything ya’ve ever done for me.”
“Climbing a mountain in the middle of winter,” Scavenger corrected in an agitated growl.
“We’re even, Hawk. Even.”
Phichit turned back to look at the two of them, who were a few feet away, bundled up in snow parkas and thick gloves. Scavenger’s furry tail was shivering. “The helicopter did most of the work, don’t you think?”
Laszlo caught up, dragging heavy footsteps through thick layers of snow, to tower over Phichit. “Even,” he said. “No more calls.”
Phichit looked from him to Scavenger who was also giving him a rather dirty look as he shoved his gloved hands under his pits. Phichit was so accustomed to keeping tabs on the both of them… he wondered what they would get up to while he was gone. Definitely more trouble, but Phichit hoped it was the good kind of trouble.
“I told you guys why we’re here, right?”
“Extraction,” Laszlo said, “but it ain’t ever that simple when ya’ve got this one along, is it?” He cocked his head at Scavenger who’s furry quivering ears perked up.
“I’d argue he makes things very simple,” Phichit said. “I want him to do
exactly
what he loves to do. Fire, pilfering, destruction, the full course. But only after the time limit I gave you. Not a second before. No matter what happens. Wait out the time, then go in, do your thing and leave no stone unturned or unburned.”
“No stone except —”
Phichit nodded at Scavenger, “Except what we discussed, yes. I don’t care how or who does it between the two of you, but it needs to be delivered to History Maker. I can’t make that any more clear.”
Scavenger sucked his teeth. “Yeah, sure.” He pushed past Phichit to walk ahead but Phichit grabbed his arm. “What,” he snapped and turned around. “I
heard
you.”
Scavenger had yellow and orange eyes, black fur, and something on his face that was part human nose and part dog nose. He had noticeable yellow fangs, steely whiskers that caught flakes of snow in the wind, and scars that disrupted the fur along his jawline. Surgical scars. This was not the face of a monster.
This was the face of a man. And now, Phichit realized, it would be very difficult for him to forget this face, because for the first time ever, he saw humanity underneath the layers of fur. He could see, for a second, who Scavenger used to be. And what Phichit saw was fear. He took off his mask and let it fall in the snow.
“We all have things we can do,” he said, his voice competing with the wind. He was very aware of how their gazes shifted on him, from annoyance to shock, and how they seemed to freeze where they stood. “I can run fast.”
He pointed at Laszlo, “He can make things disappear. Scavenger, you can make sure those things
stay
disappeared. And then everyone at History Maker can save lives. Would you like me to tell you what
that
man can do?” He pointed up the path, in the direction of the lab.
They both turned to where he was pointing and Phichit told them, “He can make faces. He can make fire come out of fingertips, horns come out of skulls, he can make puppy dog tails where there were none before.” Scavenger’s ears flattened as a low threatening growl emanated from his throat. “And, to the best of my knowledge, it seems that the people, who he does these things to, can’t do much about it. Now, I have many names and many labels but the things that I can do reach far beyond those labels. Same goes for you, Scavenger. You can do more than just blow things up.”
“I can take revenge,” he snarled. In a swift movement, he ripped both of his gloves off, the fabric falling to shreds in the snow. He flexed claws that gleamed in white light. Phichit stepped closer to him and looked up into his eyes.
“You can tell right from wrong,” he said, “and you didn’t even have to be a hero to do that. Doing the right thing won’t make you a hero and it won’t make you a villain because a choice like that is bigger than either of those labels.” Scavenger was shaking, but this time Phichit could tell it wasn’t from the cold. He just hoped Scavenger wouldn’t punch his lights out. “It makes you more of who you truly are. You are
never
going to see me again. Time and time again, I’ve given you both work, I’ve gotten you out of jail, I’ve scraped you off of bar floors, I’ve even pulled
one of you
out of the mouth of something that had way too many teeth —” he and Scavenger both glanced at Laszlo who only laughed “—so in return, can you do this one thing for me? For your friend?”
“I don’t have friends,” Scavenger barked. He turned to march up the snowy path but Laszlo was standing in front of him, blocking him, and turning him back around by the shoulders. He whispered something to Scavenger that Phichit didn’t hear over the wind. Ignoring the warning snarl, he grabbed both of Scavenger’s arms.
“When I’m not around, you seven foot lump of all bark and no bite, promise me that you’ll always be who you truly are.”
*
When Phichit found the entrance disguised by rock and snow, he let himself in and found the doctor bending over a microscope. The crisp swish of air that signaled Phichit’s arrival made him look up from his work briefly before returning his gaze to whatever microscopic phenomenon that had caught his interest for the day.
“There is no need for a follow up appointment after blood drawings, Agni,” the doctor droned.
“I’m not here for business,” Phichit said, making his way down the aisles of metal tables, glancing at the strange pod hidden in shadows as he did. No eyes today.
“Clearly. You haven’t scheduled an appointment.”
“I thought I’d get to know my clients better… Wish them a Merry Christmas.”
“It’s December twenty-sixth.”
“Mhmm, happy holidays,” Phichit mumbled distractedly and bent to peer closely at a phial filled with bubbling black liquid on a burner. He felt sickened being here. Exhaustion and hatred toward the doctor’s cold attitude was already overwhelming him enough to want to leave but he, Phichit, needed to suck it up and
do
this, the
right
thing, the thing that he had pressured Scavenger and Laszlo into doing. “We never talk and I usually know everything about my clients,” he said, forcing himself to look at the doctor in the low, clinical light.
The doctor glanced up at him again before making some notes on a clipboard, and then did a double take.
“Well, well…” he murmured. Phichit remembered he had cast his mask into the snow outside when he made his little speech. He guessed an alter ego wouldn’t really do him any good at this point. He smirked.
“Handsome, right?”
“Hmm.” The doctor looked at his notes again, interest gone as quickly as it had come. Figured. It was painfully in character for him, but it wouldn't be too far-fetched to say that the doctor didn’t much care about appearances, whether it was someone else’s or his own. As a rule, Phichit didn’t stare, especially when it came to sensitive cases like the doctor…
Half of his head was completely reconstructed with a hard white material like ivory or marble. There was an open hole for the eye and a carving of half a set of lips as if there was something on the other side of the doctor’s face to complete the shape. The other side was something straight out of one of Lovecraft’s nightmares: a sort of glimmering black, amorphous mass that undulated and flowed like a gelatin in space, although Phichit thought its appearance was more plasmic than anything. It looked as if it was constantly struggling to fit the mold of a human, the outline of the doctor’s body shrinking ever so slightly to conform to a human shape only to be struck by another wave of whatever energy kept it so perpetually sinuous. Phichit sometimes caught flickers of change in the color — human colors, as if a body from the past was fighting its way to the surface. Images flashed and swirled in dizzying iridescent bands all over the black mass like the shadowy figures in a strip of old fashioned camera film. But they often flowed into each other, blending together in a pool of indiscernible nonsense; faces blended with places, odd objects morphed with animals… Phichit had a theory that these were like memories, that the doctor was wearing his past on his sleeve…
But of course, as a rule, Phichit never stared, so he couldn’t be sure. This was the time for gathering intel, not spooking the doctor into silence.
“I can’t fathom a reason why we should get to know each other any more than we already have,” the doctor said, continuing to jot notes with one of the only truly human parts of him: a pale, shivering hand that was sticking out of a puffy jacket. Phichit wondered how he put clothes on in the mornings... “Our current arrangement is more than satisfactory. So you can put that mask of yours back on.”
“Oh, I lost that on my way here,” he replied, “and I’d actually argue that I
do
need to get to know you better because I don’t even know your name.”
“Irrelevant. My name has never mattered. Nobody calls me by my birth name. Everyone calls me
the doctor,
and you are free to continue to do so.” He glided down the table, adjusted the heat on one of the burners, and took more notes. Phichit frowned.
“Would it help if I told you my name?”
“I doubt it.”
“My name,” Phichit took a millisecond to think, “is Christophe Giacometti.”
The doctor gave a short, high laugh, “Ha, no you’re not.” Phichit raised his eyebrow.
“Then you know the real Christophe?”
“Personally? Afraid not,” he sniffed. Phichit reflexively tried his best not to roll his eyes, forgetting that the doctor wasn’t even looking at him.
“Where are you from? Surely you can at least tell me that.”
The doctor rounded the head of the lab table and set his clipboard down. He tilted his strange head at Phichit and drummed human fingers on the metal surface in front of him. “I’m surprised you can’t tell.”
“Pardon?”
“I assumed we were very alike — clever, perceptive. You see, I can’t exactly pinpoint where you’re from by simply listening to you, but I had an idea. The way you speak, the way your tongue curls around certain words and consonants suggests that you're multilingual. You’re quite careful, but,” he raised a white as bone finger in the air, “the way your intonation folds easily on French words, the way you gravitate towards western idioms, and the unconscious softening of bilabial consonants led me to conclude that you speak at the very least five languages although I am fairly certain your mother tongue is of Southeast Asian origins.”
“Impressive,” Phichit conceded with a slow clap, “but you cheated, didn’t you?”
The doctor waved his hand dismissively, “Of course I did. I am a medical doctor, not a linguist. I know from your blood work that you are most likely Thai. If you didn’t grow up in Thailand, you were at least raised in a traditional household if your accent is any indication. And what about you, Agni? What have you deduced about me? Where is the doctor from?”
Pricklandia.
He took a moment to consider his options, rolling his head up at the mountainous ceiling before looking at the doctor’s marbled half.
“Japan,” he said. “But not from any of the major cities. Maybe…” he tried to reign it in a bit, not get too specific lest he startle the doctor into silence. He wouldn’t mention Hasestu but... “Somewhere in the Kyushu area?”
“Hmm.” The doctor, faceless as he was, was impossible to read. Phichit studied the shapeless half undulating menacingly as the doctor came back to the burners to turn them off. There was black liquid inside one of them and it had turned into a thick glob of jelly in the bottom. Phichit wrinkled his nose but still leaned closer, disgusted but intrigued. Procuring a petri dish, the doctor fished the black jelly out of the bottom with a thin pair of prongs. Phicihit startled and reeled backwards; the jelly began twitching and
kicking
furiously when it was lifted in the air, but the doctor didn’t seem to care. He promptly stuck it in the petri dish and screwed on a transparent lid. He placed this under a lamp and then rounded back to the end of the table to jot down more notes.
“Is that your pet?” Phichit asked.
“I am from a beautiful, rural island on the other side of the world,” the doctor began without preamble, ignoring Phichit’s teasing. “The ocean waters change color as easily as the seasons. The mountains are teeming with wildlife. Its size and proximity make the summers intense and the winters harsh with strong winds. That is all,” he drawled. He withdrew his notes from his clipboard and filed it away in a nearby binder. He took out a new sheet to work on. “Ocean. Mountains. Vibrant seasons. I have told you everything you need to know about the island where I grew up, where I was born.”
“But that’s surely not—”
“It is, Agni. It truly is. The long and short. I am sure you can see it quite clearly in your head now. A quaint little oasis with nothing more to offer a young precocious mind than a couple of monkeys hiding in a cave.”
Phichit was accustomed to the dry, quiet, and monotone manner in which the doctor spoke but, this time, he detected a bit of malice. “You don’t like monkeys?”
“Do you like monkeys?”
“I—”
“No,”
the doctor snapped and cast the clipboard onto the table. He glided quickly over to Agni who fought the urge to step away. He was so close — close enough for Phichit to see his breath form an eerie condensation on the otherworldly black matter. It obscured monstrous and iridescent faces: something half man, half animal. “Be completely honest with me. Do you, a demigod among men, a living computer that processes complex data within a trillionth of a second, find monkeys interesting? Is there something about the color of an ocean, the height of a mountain, that could hold your interest for more than a — shall I be generous? — a minute?”
Phichit swallowed. “Can’t say there is. But I’m fast,” he said, matching the gaze of eyes that he had to imagine, “what’s your excuse?”
“I’m brilliant,” he said easily and took a step back. “There was nothing my home could offer me. My home, my island, reached the apex of its potential for me when I was still a child. It became a mental cage. So I left. The world is so much larger than where we come from. The universe is much larger than our world. Time itself is a vast enigma that outstretches both worlds and universes by leaps and bounds, offering so much…
so much…”
he clenched his fists in front of him as if he were trying desperately to grab the word he wanted out of the air.
“Potential?” Phichit offered.
“Yes,”
the doctor growled quietly, “Potential. Potential for advancement far beyond what we have yet to imagine. And yet so many are content to sit and play with monkeys until the day they die.”
“And what is it that you would like to see before you die, doctor?”
The doctor chuckled.
“Before
I die?”
“No bucket lists?”
“I suppose I don’t know,” he turned his marbled head when the petri dish jerked violently, its tiny prisoner fighting against the plastic so that it slid out from under the lamp. The doctor flicked it back into the light. He jotted down a quick note. “I believe I’ve seen everything of interest that this world has to offer.”
“And what about
other
worlds?”
“What business does anyone have with other worlds, Agni? Venea, Mars, Earth…” he flicked the petri dish again and scribbled another note. “They’re all the same. It seems you weren’t listening. There are things of greater importance than anything that any world has to offer.”
Phichit gave him a wry smile. “Ok,” he said. “What about other
times?”
“Oh, excellent question. I’m sure you know that it has an infinite number of answers.”
“And I’m sure you know that whatever you want to gain from…
studying
time will have an infinite number of consequences.”
The doctor scoffed; his tone gave Phichit the bizarre mental image of him rolling eyes that didn’t exist and it made his stomach turn. “Humanity, an existence that is constantly in the forefront of the minds of every human, is a consequence too, a fairly new one when compared to the history of life on Earth… a
consequence of ten seconds.
Imagine how insignificant my mistakes would be in comparison. It would be like they never happened. It wouldn’t matter. Nothing matters.”
“But it
does
matter!” Phichit protested, disgusted and enraged, “No matter how long we have on this Earth, every life is of consequence, every life has an impact —”
The doctor sneered,
“Every life..”
“Yes, every life. No matter how long we’re alive…” and no matter whether someone remembers you being born, remembers you being your closest friend…the memory from the night before flashed somberly in Phichit’s mind and he raised his voice, “no matter how long our fingerprint lasts in a timeline… it matters. You can’t mess with time with the idea in your head that nothing you do matters! What if people die because of you?”
“Oh
dear,”
the doctor’s chuckle made Phichit’s skin crawl because it wasn’t human. It was more like a wheeze, sand shifting in a shell. “What
if
people die? And before their natural expiration dates, at that… what a shame that would be. I guess it would be their own faults for wasting their breath on things of no consequence, dimly content with the time stamps they were given at birth. Everyone wants to die, Agni. You can see it in the way they spend their days transfixed on trivial matters.”
“What
are you talking about?!”
“I am simply waiting for you to mention a consequence that would give me some sort of pause.” The petri dish was practically vibrating, the little black jelly was fighting so hard. The doctor retrieved a syringe from a nearby tray and injected a pink liquid through a tiny crack between the lid and the dish. The liquid spread, pooling underneath the twitching mass and soon disappeared as if it had been absorbed. The thing eventually stilled, rising and falling peacefully; Phichit thought it looked like it was breathing.
“Why don’t you tell me what would give you pause if it isn’t human life? I’m trying to get to know you better after all.”
“Hmm… What a difficult question… but I suspect this one only has one answer.”
Phichit crossed his arms and waited.
“Do you suppose, Agni, that time has an expiration date of its own?”
Phichit licked his lip, trying valiantly to hold his sharp tongue. He kept his arms crossed because he didn’t trust his own body. “This demigod has no answers for you.”
The doctor shrugged and turned the lamp off. The breathing jelly fell flat in its dish, filling out the bottom completely as it gleamed with a familiar iridescent sheen. The doctor looked back in Phichit’s direction. “I’ll just ask another demigod then,” he said. “What, say you, Ao?”
Phichit’s breath caught in his throat as he turned — he didn’t notice anyone else in the lab — and suddenly, faster than he could exhale, he was nose to nose with another man. He tripped backwards in fright, and his heart thundered. Raucous laughter followed him as he fell backwards into a metal table. He wasn’t used to being surprised like this. But here he was, still trying to process this new presence, still trying to recover from confusion...
Ao was nearly a foot taller than Phichit and that was the only assessment he managed to make before he was flying across the lab, pain splitting in his chin.
He landed hard on metal plating and slid to the floor. He clutched his jaw in pain, shock once again ripping through him. What happened? Was he hit? He didn’t even see — on instinct, he got up to run but the newcomer was faster than him.
Faster?
The concept was just as foreign as the pain that split across his back, another force sending him skidding across the room. More laughter filled the lab with a sinister echo.
“Aaah!”
Phichit gasped in agony, his vision going blurry as he looked up at the doctor who still, bizarrely enough, looked bored.
Ao’s face eclipsed the doctor’s then and he bent to pick Phichit up with one hand by the neck. Phichit choked. Panic quickly flooded his head as he thought with horror that the last thing he would see before he died was Ao’s face: a thin, sneering face, much older than Phichit’s, and bloodshot eyes that turned into iridescent stones when he blinked — hard obsidian that looked like they could catch fire from the heat of Ao’s bloodlust. He pulled Ao’s wrist but he could feel his strength slowly leaving him… his breath disintegrating on his tongue…
“You’ve run quite far, Ao,” Phichit heard the doctor drone, his voice coming from the bottom of a lake. “In your travels, have you ever found an end, a
limit,
to time?
“Can’t say I have,” Ao replied,” but I’m special.” His grip tightened as Phichit’s vision grew darker. He was running out of time. He didn’t need Scavenger and Laszlo running in to get themselves killed… he needed to speed up the plan; he let go of Ao’s wrist and fumbled for something in his pocket — something small.
“You're not… special,” Phichit managed to choke out and he pushed the remote detonator in his hand. The explosions were deafening. Fire and smoke filled the room as the mountain caved in, rocks falling in spikes around them. Ao shouted, dropped Phichit, and vanished in the same breath. Phichit gasped for air, clutching his chest that was still miraculously heaving, and stumbled to his feet as the earth beneath him shook.
“MY RESEARCH!” Phichit looked to see the doctor, now a towering mass of nightmare matter standing in the shower of stone and trying to snatch up whatever his hands could reach on the metal tables. “SAVE MY RESEARCH!”
Lightning struck in the mountain, blue streaks of energy zipping along the walls, and the things on the tables started to disappear.
Ao.
“You’re bringing the mountain down on all of it, you
fool!”
The doctor bellowed and rounded on Phichit, but the doctor was never Phichit’s target.
He took a deep breath and focused on the blue light striping across the crumbling mountain walls until he could see Ao’s face, then he pulled his fist back and landed the best punch of his life. It was
fast,
in the middle of Ao’s cheek, and he felt the sickening yet satisfying sensation of bone crunching against his knuckles.
Ao went flying on impact. He landed several feet away in a pile of fresh rubble; stones rained down on him until he was buried but Phichit was right not to get his hopes up. Ao rose and struck like lightning again to the other side of the lab but this time, Phichit was paying attention.
He followed the stream of light until it disappeared into the pod behind him. Suddenly, the lab was filled with a blinding white light and the air split in two with a roaring
bang.
He couldn’t see anything. Everything was white, but Phichit ran straight towards where he knew the pod to be, and scrambled his molecules to sink his hand into it to drag Ao back out. The familiar feeling of his arm not existing sent a shiver down his spine but he shoved it in, up to his shoulder, desperate to not let Ao escape.
But it was empty. There was nothing,
nothing
there, but Phichit
saw
him this time. He knew he wasn’t wrong.
“Get
away
from that, you animal!” The doctor hissed. He was making his way over to the pod now, across the rock that was crumbling underneath them. “Don’t interfere with what you don’t understand!”
“But that’s what I do,” Phichit shouted back and phased through the surface of the pod until he was completely submerged in nothingness.
He was floating. Before, the tumultuous sounds of the collapsing lab filled his ears, but the sounds had vanished. So had the chemical smell of the doctor’s burning research — everything was just… gone. He couldn’t even feel where his body began or ended. He felt like a floating thought.
It was peaceful.
With the world quite literally falling apart around him, he felt quiet for the first time since as far back as he could remember. For once, the only thing that occupied his mind was the sound of his own heartbeat in his ears. It was so peaceful that he felt the bizarre urge to cry…
It was a sensory deprivation tank and, Phichit thought, his mind feeling as if it were bathing in soothing tea, a damn good one. That’s when a conversation he had with Yuuri swam to the forefront of his mind:
Speed up my molecules. Slow down my mind. Then it’s back to the future.
“Well...” he thought to himself, regretting that he had to leave this comforting shell so soon, regretting even more than that: the fact that he was now making such a clumsy exit and leaving behind so many loose ends, so many wayward friends, regretting that he wasn’t as perfect as he wished he’d be in this moment, he was surprised that he could still bring himself to laugh. “...I guess Yuuri was right.” And he let his heart along with every last fiber of his being
fly.
*
In Spring Gate at the same time...
Yuuri had a lot of glitter on his back and he didn’t know why. He figured he must’ve sat on something at Victor’s party. One thing was for sure, he thought with an incomprehensible amount of shame and regret: he hadn’t told Victor the truth last night. He had lost his nerve and drowned his anxiety in champagne the minute he realized how many heroes were there.
He didn’t remember what happened the night before, but he woke up alone in a hotel room that he didn’t recall booking. But someone was there with him, he
knew
it, which was unsettling. He just didn’t know who it was or why they were there — probably taking care of him in his drunken state — but something about their presence had deeply upset him and he couldn’t remember why…
When he woke up, he felt inexplicably distraught, a hollow feeling in his chest as if he had been crying at some loss, but he guessed that made sense; he was crying before he went to Victor’s party too. A fine mess, indeed. He shuddered to think about whoever was tasked with ushering him into that hotel — what they must’ve thought of his sobbing and the horrible look of pity on their face…
What was important though, a small and almost imperceptible win, was that he was at least safe in his own apartment now, back at square one.
Still, the fact that he was able to pack his things for Japan in his apartment was proof of his ultimate failure. He hadn’t told Victor about his situation as Red Specter, and he probably never would. The only option for him now was to ask Fujiwara for mercy because there was no way he could crawl back to Victor again after he had
undoubtedly
made a fool of himself at last night’s party.
After almost a decade, he was coming home in search of an
ounce
of mercy. He had already planned on a normal, short vacation to see his family again. Naturally, that would mean he would see Fujiwara regardless — he was obligated to pay his respects whenever he came into the country — but now Yuuri had a reason to see him. He was planning a meeting which required a bit more mental acrobatics and decorum. He needed a souvenir for a meeting, for starters…
A meeting…
He slapped his palm on his forehead and rushed out into the sitting area but Laszlo wasn’t there. He wasn’t in his (Phichit’s) room either and the bathroom was empty. When he came back to the sitting room, he noticed that the bottle of wine and the note was still there. He supposed that Laszlo had a late night of partying. He bent down to write another note on the back of his first one:
Missed a meeting with our friend last night… can you tell him I’m sorry?
That should be both enigmatic and specific enough For Laz and
only
Laz to get it. He supposed the guy needed to know where he’ll be too:
PS, I’ll be in Japan for a few days.
He felt awful for being so irresponsible, for leaving another mess for Phichit to clean up. Yuuri at least hoped Phichit hadn’t waited too long for him, and that simple thought made him mentally kick himself because he had missed Phichit so much. He had an opportunity to see him again, to make sure his friend was doing well alone, and he blew it.
They had time though. He would be sure to pay Phichit back ten fold the next time they saw each other. Oreos on Valentines, a new game for Switch, and if Yuuri could somehow manage to save Phichit’s life, wouldn’t that be a sweet and self indulgent twist of fate? A hug would also be a sweet and self indulgent twist of fate… but soon. This situation wouldn’t be his forever. He was determined to make it so. He would just have to mind his emails.
Emails! He had to notify Fujiwara that he was coming back to Hasetsu. He rushed back into his room.
*
When Victor woke up, he ran straight into the bathroom and became sick. He shuddered when it was over, and then began feverishly brushing his teeth. He called shakily through the foam for Yakov, his mind working at a hyperspeed that was almost unbearable for his hungover brain, but this was important, and there was no time to waste.
“Yakov!”
he spat into the sink angrily when Yakov didn’t answer the first time, but then he appeared in the bathroom door.
“What, what? Why are you—”
“Yuuri. He’s in trouble.”
“What? No, he’s home in the living room. I can go get—”
“Not little Yuri,
Yuuri
the nurse,” Victor explained quickly. His head was throbbing and he splashed water on his face before he realized that alone wouldn’t cut it. He needed a shower. “You have eyes on him, right?”
“Minimal surveillance, but yes,” Yakov straightened, his usual concrete like expression returning to the stern shape of his face. “Why?”
“He’s in trouble, he told me so last night and I—”
“Is that why I got a call about you wandering into History Maker?”
“I…” Victor had forgotten but yes, he
had
gone to History Maker, late at night. He caught a cab… but he was alone. He scratched his head in confusion, willing the memories from the night before to come back; that’s right. Victor told Yuuri to come with him. But he hadn’t. He disappeared on the dance floor. He said something silly, something about forgetting to meet a friend. Victor had insisted that they leave that instant, together, so that they could work things out. But Victor turned his head for one second and Yuuri was gone…
And so Victor went to History Maker alone to wait for Yuuri. But he never showed. Yuuri said… Yuuri admitted to being Red Specter, and Victor
knew it all along
but…
It was not the confession he was expecting, hoped for, or even counted as an admission of guilt for a crime.
Yuuri’s family was being held hostage. His sister had been horribly harmed. And, even now, Yuuri still had that invisible gun pointed to his head. This was a cry for help and for some reason, Yuuri left before he could actually get it...
Screw the shower.
Yakov, clearly alarmed, pulled his phone from the pocket of his robe, “What’s—”
“Yakov, we need to get in contact with him immediately and make sure he’s OK.”
“Can I at least know the circumstances? I can’t just call this kid up asking him if he had a good night's sleep. You need to tell me what’s going on, Vitya, so I know how to handle this.”
“You were right,” Victor spouted and stepped around his father into the bedroom. He began pulling clothes at random out of his closet. “About pretty much everything.”
He could almost hear Yakov raising that bushy eyebrow of his but he didn't have an ounce of rebellion in him that would make him hate it. He told Yakov everything about Yuuri, from how Victor had first suspected him to the events of the previous night. As he talked it out, things began to click in his mind while other questions reared their heads, the most important one of them being: Was Yuuri in danger?
As soon as Victor had stopped speaking, Yakov left and began dialing numbers, talking at high speed to Lilia and Celestino, a mark of how efficiently Victor had recounted all the necessary details. He pulled on several sweaters, some pants, and rushed out of his room after him.
Yuri sprang up from the couch and Yakov held his phone away from his face, his hand covering the receiver end.
“He’s at the airport,” Yakov barked.
“What?!”
“Lilia said he’ll be on an airplane within the next two hours.”
“Where is he even,” he fumbled in his pockets for car keys before remembering that Yuri had his car scrapped, “why would he—”
“The pig? Probably going to Japan, right?”
Victor shook his head, vaguely registering that his brother must’ve caught up to what was going on, “Do you think something happened?”
“I don’t know what to think, but I know we’re playing my favorite game now,” he turned back to the phone to tell Lilia thank you and hung up.
“What? What
game?”
Victor couldn’t imagine that any of this was remotely fun or enjoyable.
“The waiting game, Vitya,” Yakov grunted and propped himself onto a stool at the kitchen island. “There’s nothing we can do. We just need to wait until he comes back to America, which is good for the both of us because we already have far too much on our plates right now without chasing an international jewel thief halfway across the planet…”
Victor looked at him in disbelief. Words escaped him and he looked at Yuri to make sure they were hearing the same thing. Yuri looked just as confused, his blonde eyebrows knitted dubiously together.
“You want us…
to wait?”
Victor hissed, “did you even
hear
me?!”
“I did. And now. We wait.”
“Yakov, no! His family, his
sister!”
He gestured widely in the air as if this sister, who he’d never met, was floating there because he really couldn’t think of words that would better explain just how urgent this situation was. He thought he’d done the job the first time. “Anyone of them could be killed!”
“And I thought you said the pig was still waiting for a flight?” Yuri provided slowly, unsure, “It’s not like it would take much to stop him boarding… from flying back to some guy who’s just gonna point a gun in his face.”
Yakov sighed, a deep, exhausted sound that made even Victor feel tired. “You said it yourself, Vitya. This… this is a hostage situation.”
“Which is why we have to
save—”
“Which is why we have to refrain from doing anything that would jeopardize Yuuri Katsuki’s safety. His
and
his family’s safety are both hanging in the balance right now.”
“What… what are you…” Victor sank onto the couch arm behind him, weighed down by the sympathetic look on Yakov's face right now. It was the stark opposite of what Victor wanted: the hardened look of determination on the face of an experienced hero that could move heaven and earth in a day.
“If Katsuki is going back to Japan now, it wouldn’t be wise for us to run into an airport, guns blazing, to take him into custody, start a perimeter, or any of those things. We can’t even gather intel the way we normally would without raising suspicion thus putting him at greater risk of getting hurt. The only thing we can do is maintain the amount of surveillance we currently have on Fujiwara and his men. Lilia will tell her agents to keep their eyes peeled for anything strange. They’ll intervene — if they can, which is entirely dependent on
his
movements — if it ever looks like Katsuki is in any immediate danger. But that’s it.”
“Yakov…”
“Victor, I want you to hear this,” Yakov said quickly and Victor met his eyes, “this isn’t like Detroit. Do not, and I repeat,
do not
go running after Katsuki this time.”
“But you don’t—”
“I understand, Victor, I do!” Yakov snapped and got to his feet, eyes blazing. Victor’s heart sank like an anchor in his chest. “This isn't about me. This isn’t about protocol, time, resources, or any of those things that you thought were trivial back then, although those things are definitely still a factor. This is about Katsuki’s
life.
Do you know why we don’t run blindly into hostage situations, Victor?”
“So that the hostage taker doesn’t panic and get trigger-happy,” Yuri grumbled beside him and Victor hissed out a sigh.
“Precisely. And this isn’t like our normal hostage situation because we have no way of negotiating, no way of ensuring his family’s safety, and furthermore, Fujiwara—who’s on the other side of the world, mind you — doesn’t want anything from us. He’s made no demands. He doesn’t even know that we know the Katsuki family’s situation. So there’s nothing to do but wait, Victor.”
“Wait for
what?”
Victor all but cried, because
surely
between a five star hero and a renowned NP, there was something that could be done to bring Yuuri home safely.
“Like I said. Wait to hear from him again. Then we can talk.” When Yakov saw just how thoroughly unconvinced Victor looked, he pointed a stern finger at him, frowning, “Don’t get your hostage shot, Victor. Do you hear me?”
Victor ran his hands over his face, his head now swimming with more than just the previous night’s overindulgence. He was shaking and he wanted nothing more than to take Yakov’s car to speed over to the airport. He had time. He knew he could find a way to discreetly pull Yuuri aside. To tell Yuuri that he didn’t have to go. To tell him that Victor was here to help. But…
He knew he couldn’t. Just the thought of a hidden, unknown assailant waiting somewhere in the airport for Yuuri made his stomach turn. He looked at Yakov again. He had the distinct and familiar look of someone who was still waiting on an answer.
“Yes,” Victor finally said. “I hear you.”
Yakov appraised him slowly. “Lilia said he’ll only be there for five days.
“That’s an
obscene
amount of time to wait—”
“What about that new guy?” Yuri asked suddenly, pulling both of their attention to him. “Lilia mentioned some guy in Korea that’s supposed to start his contract with us in the coming year. Can’t we ask him to, I don’t know, keep his eyes peeled or whatever?”
Yakov shook his head, “We’re not hiring Mr. Lee for field work and, even if we were, it wouldn’t be fair to ask him to do something like this before the start of his contract when we can’t even tell him how dangerous it would be.”
“Mr. Lee…” Victor racked his brain for the familiar sounding name, combing through the pitiful division of his memory in charge of faces, but then he remembered, “Seung-gil? Celestino mentioned him one time — he’s psychic, right?”
“Neither here nor there, Victor,” Yakov shook his head more firmly.
“But he can take care of himself at least!” Victor stood up, ready to cling on to any hope that this situation had to offer. “Do we know the specifics of his powers?”
“Victor, his contract. We’re not doing this.”
“Well if we
are
desperate, which we
are,
even before this whole pig thing, according to Lilia
”
Yuri droned, rolling his eyes, “we should use what we have, right? Just because History Maker is an organization doesn’t mean we can’t call for backup like any other hero does.”
“First of all,” Yakov said, fixing Yuri with a cold, stern look, “there is no
we.
You aren’t a hero at History Maker, Yura,” he held up a hand when Yuri opened his mouth to retort, “It isn’t your place to decide who we do and don’t use, especially when it comes to a
civilian—
because that’s exactly what Mr. Lee is before he signs that contract with us. He has no field training or backup and if something were to happen to him, would his blood be on your hands, Yuri?”
Yuri shrank under Yakov’s words, a defiant frown on his face as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Or perhaps it would be on Mr. Katsuki’s hands, who has no idea he’s even being followed across foreign waters,” Yakov continued, “but regardless of where you place the blame, at the end of the day, the wellbeing of heroes at History Maker is the responsibility of Celestino, Lilia, and myself. Yes, Mr. Lee could be in Hasetsu in a matter of hours by ferry and yes, he’s psychic. But, it still stands that no matter how convenient he may seem to us at this moment, I don’t have the luxury of regarding the lives of my heroes as
convenient.
Heroes are not disposable tools.”
“I...” Victor sighed, thinking furiously for some kind of solution, “I understand that completely, I
do.
You and Lilia and Celestino are our only protection and I appreciate that—”
“Then don’t fight me on this.”
“I’m not fighting you, I’m
asking you,”
Victor implored. “I’m asking you to think with just a bit more... discernment. I wouldn’t ask you to throw someone green and defenseless into the line of fire. I would like to know the same things that you think about when assigning stars to heroes. What are his powers? Can he hold his own against physical combatants, mutants, firearms, or psychic threats without causing lasting harm to himself or his environment?” He began ticking off the standards for battle readiness on his fingers, “What experience does he have in the field or in similar positions? How nervous does he get? How willing does he seem to engage in proposed field work? I’m sure you already know the answers to all of these questions so I’m just wondering… what’s stopping us from just...
asking
if he’s interested in helping out with this?”
Yakov studied him with steel eyes; he seemed to be chewing on something as he did, perhaps the “no” that Victor was so used to hearing.
“We
are
desperate,” Victor added, “and he can only say no.”
“And?” Yakov finally said. “In this imagined world where he meets all those requirements and he actually agrees to help, what would you ask him to do?”
“Ask him to make contact with Yuuri to ensure his safety,” Victor replied immediately.
“Absolutely not.”
“Track him then.”
“Try again.”
Victor huffed and ran his hands over his face, “We want him to
help,
yes?”
“I
want him to make it to America so that he can start his contract with our organization in one piece. If I can stop indulging you this frankly selfish fantasy, then just say so—”
“No, Yakov—”
“Victor, I will say this and you can either take it or leave it. As I have explained, I take the lives of my heroes very seriously. I will discuss this matter further with Lilia and Celestino to get their input but I will make no promises about our conclusion. If it happens that we deem Mr. Lee fit for this…
endeavor,
we will ask him to help in a way that focuses entirely on his safety, experience, and comfort level. That means no undue contact with Katsuki, no tracking, no combat, no defensive measures, and extremely minimal contact with our headquarters seeing as how he has yet to receive the secure comm set that we use. We don’t want to risk him being tracked by someone who would do him harm.”
“And what does that even leave for him to do?” Yuri scowled and Victor couldn’t help but agree though he was careful not to show it on his face because at least this was
something.
“More than enough,” Yakov replied airily waving a hand, “and that’s the end of this conversation. No more negotiating or discussion.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Yuuri supposed that he was so physically exhausted that it was impossible for him to become jet lagged anymore, because when he landed in Narita Airport, he barely registered the time. He passed through customs, boarded his connecting flight, and found his driver in a blur. Upon receiving Yuuri’s message that he would be back in the country, Fujiwara’s men sent a car, one that wouldn’t be traced. Yuri didn’t recognize the woman and he didn’t try to. Instead, he rested his head against the car window until they arrived, several hours later, at Ikki Fujiwara’s home.
On the rare occasions that he decided to spend his time at home, Fujiwara lived in the mountains like some of the farming residents of Hasetsu; he was there for the scenery that the altitude afforded, the location far removed from his more agricultural neighbors.
Yuuri got out of the car and grabbed the gift bags that he bought. The driver was waiting on him so he decided to take one last look at his reflection in the window. He straightened his suit jacket — he was wearing all black today with a golden tie clip that Fujiwara had gifted him a few years ago. It was embossed with one of the kanji in his name:
勇
, for bravery. He fussed with a tuft of hair that escaped his slicked back style before giving up when a few more fly-aways began rebelling. He followed the driver up to the house and entered after her. As soon as the door opened, he heard shouting.
It was coming from somewhere near the back of the house. Yuuri didn’t let it bother him. If the shouting had already started, there was no way it concerned him. He toed off his shoes in the large entryway
,
and allowed himself to be ushered down a long hallway. The driver stopped at a sliding door — this is where the shouting was coming from — and she turned to Yuuri, pointing at her watch, and told him that they were early. They waited with their backs facing the door as if they were guards.
Apparently someone had been stupid; Yuuri bowed his head as bits of the conversation echoed through the thin walls around him. He hadn’t listened to this dialect, this angry version of Sanuki Japanese, in a long, long time. It was unnerving to feel like he was trying to catch up to his own language. But he soon understood that someone was weeks late on a payment on top of losing an entire shipment of something valuable. Fujiwara had given them several chances... and they had been disrespectful, and were
still
being disrespectful… Yuuri shook his head a fraction of an inch, as if to say “no”... as if he were the one being reprimanded.
A gunshot fired behind him. He flinched, caving in on himself. He felt it vibrating in his heart and his ears rang. He took a deep shuddering breath and looked at the driver. She pointed at her watch again.
“Mada, mada.”
Yuuri nodded and took a few more shuddering breaths. His face was cold as ice. The gunshot still rang terribly in his head like a temple bell on New Year’s Day. He jumped as the door slid open an inch behind him.
“Ah,” someone said and they turned. It was a man no older than Yuuri with round cheeks, a mohawk, shaved brows, and fuzzy pajamas. He looked a bit surprised and he turned around to shout in Japanese, “Uncle, did you forget you had company?”
Fujiwara cursed horribly, his throat sounding as if he were gargling blood and gravel, “Let ‘em in! What are you standing there for?!”
“Shitsuree shimasu,”
Yuuri and the driver chorused politely as they stepped into the tatami room and bowed. Yuuri’s heart thundered in his ears as he caught the outline of a body lying in his periphery — no, not in his periphery, directly in front of him, inches away from his feet, but he refused to look down. He didn’t want to know if the body’s eyes were still open. He instead focused on Fujiwara who was standing in the center of the room, barefoot, in a navy yukata. He hadn’t aged a day since that fateful night in Yuuri’s kitchen, but he still looked like he escaped from the pits of hell with pale, taut skin, graying eyes, and fluffy white, fly-away hair. He had a gun in one hand and a teacup in the other. Fujiwara’s silver eyes widened in shock when they found Yuuri. A joyous grin tore across his paper face.
“Hiro-kun!” He cursed again and hit the back of his nephew’s head with the hand that was still holding the gun. “Why didn’t you tell me my son was coming home,
eh?”
“Sorry, uncle,” Hiro said, half laughing and bowing repeatedly, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know…”
“You didn’t know? You
didn’t know?
My son comes home from America and nobody tells me? I’m not even prepared and now there’s this mess here, you worthless
carcass—”
Fujiwara pointed at the body on the floor when he said the word “mess” but pointed an accusatory teacup at Hiro when he said “carcass”.
Yuuri fought the urge to close his eyes and bowed deeper than before. “I’m sorry to intrude during the holidays. I don’t want to be —”
Fujiwara growled something angry again and waved the teacup in a threatening, beckoning gesture. He wanted Yuuri to come closer. “Nonsense!” He shouted, “You’ve been gone so long that you’ve gotten so formal!
Hiro!”
He turned to his nephew who was scratching his head dumbly and raising his invisible brows in question, “You’re standing around like a rock and Yuuri can’t even walk in here! Clean this mess up! Get it out of my sight. Yuuri,
here!”
Yuuri hurried to step around the body to meet Fujiwara’s outstretched arm — he flicked his hand agitatedly at Yuuri’s bags so he put them down at his sides and allowed himself to be hugged. He felt the metal of the gun and the still searing heat of the tea against his back for a fleeting moment before Fujiwara broke the embrace.
“I can help tidy up,” Yuuri offered politely.
“No, you will
not!
You flew all this way —
OI!”
He hollered in the direction of another sliding door and walked over to bang on it. “Wake up! Get out here!” He continued around the room, banging on all three doors, each one opening, slowly, one by one.
“You don’t need to go to any trouble…”
“Sit down,” he pointed at a raised sitting area in the back, center of the room underneath a large tapestry. It was a wintry garden scene with little dragons and lions peeking out of the snow. Several cushy pillows were piled beneath this — it was clearly reserved for Fujiwara and Yuuri politely declined as they were soon joined by three others.
“Oh, no, I couldn’t, I’m OK.” He looked to his left at a small movement. He hadn’t noticed the long
kotatsu,
next to him. A tall, muscular, freckled man with large eyes and sopping wet hair was sitting there with his legs stretched out under it. He was wearing the same navy yukata as Fujiwara with a towel around his neck and a book in his hand. His other hand was digging through a bowl of peeled mandarin oranges. Yuuri vaguely recognized the bright pink demon tattoo on the side of his neck; this was Fujiwara’s actual son, Shuhei. “I can sit here with Shu-oniisan, if that’s alright.”
Shuhei looked up at Yuuri as if he had just noticed him and gave him a short, polite little nod before returning to his book. The three that had joined were squinting harshly in the new light, stretching, and yawning in yukatas as they stumbled into the room. One man with a long, sleep-ruffled ponytail and an orange yukata swore as he tripped over the body before kicking it in anger.
“Kuso!
Oi, Hiro-chan, quit leaving stuff around!” He and Hiro bickered back and forth when Hiro pointed out that there was nothing he could do about the blood in the tatami floor. A woman with a pixie cut, sakura tattoos blossoming up to her chin, and a purple yukata told them both to shut up and she bent on the ground.
Yuuri swallowed hard when he realized he had been following her movements. He wished he hadn’t looked. The eyes were open. A halo of bright blood fanned out from under the body’s head and was seeping into the floor’s fibers. The woman placed her palm on top of it and the sheen from the liquid was gone, leaving what looked like powder, a gruesome spice peppered around his shining cranium.
“Clean it up, Isao,” she yawned at a bald man with thick eyebrows, who was taller and more willowy than anyone in the room. He sucked his teeth and stormed out of the entrance that Yuuri and the driver had come in through, the corner of his black yukata catching in the door as he went.
“How many times do I have to repeat myself, Hiro? Clean this —” Fujiwara raised the hand holding the gun over Hiro’s head. His nephew flinched away, laughing and holding his hands up as a shield, “Take this away from me,” he spat and shoved the gun at the ponytail man who sucked his teeth too and tossed it onto the kotatsu where it slid and stopped in front of Shuhei’s bowl. Fujiwara hit Hiro with his free hand three times and told him to get rid of the body. Hiro, still laughing, complained playfully as he bent to hoist it over his shoulder. Yuuri focused his attention on a little lion peeking out of the snow on the tapestry in front of him. He heard the door open and close.
Isao was back and Yuuri listened to the sound of his grumbling which was soon drowned out by a vacuum cleaner. The sounds were growing muffled in his ears as the lion became sharper in his vision. He was being hugged again, twice by two different sets of arms, and there was a back pat...
“—kind of you to stop by. Yuuri?”
“Yes, sir,” Yuuri’s attention snapped back to Fujiwara who had settled down into his cushions. He patted the space next to him and sipped his tea.
“Come sit next to me. Shuhei can’t be bothered.”
“I’m reading,” Shuhei said gently.
“Can’t be bothered.”
“I brought gifts since it’s been so long and it was just Christmas. It’s a really important holiday in America,” Yuuri heard himself say and he picked his bags back up. He procured a large crystal bottle shaped like a diamond filled with dark liquor and held it carefully in his hands. Johnny Walker’s 1952 Diamond Jubilee whiskey was rare, specially crafted for royalty and valued at over a hundred thousand American dollars. He knelt in front of Fujiwara and bowed deeply before presenting it to him. “This is for you. It isn’t much but please accept it.”
Fujiwara’s wing-like eyebrows furrowed agitatedly as he took the gift from Yuuri and he grumbled as he examined it gingerly in his wizened hands. “Western liquor in a diamond, Yuuri?”
“I stole it.”
“Ah,
so ka?
Well, as long as you didn’t spend too much money on gifts. I appreciate this,” he nodded his approval and gave it a little pat before promptly opening it. After downing his tea, tasting the whiskey, and singing its praise, he shot a nasty look over Yuuri’s head.
“Yuuri, you can’t come home without people sniffing down your neck for presents like diseased children. Hurry up and give Reiji his souvenir before I disown him.”
He bowed respectfully again before turning around for his bags. Reiji, the man with the ponytail, was biting his lip and bouncing on his heels excitedly as his eyes darted between the Diamond Jubilee and Yuuri. The gifts for subordinates were difficult; Yuuri never knew how many would be present when he visited so he always brought plenty of generic little trinkets, just in case. He was also sure not to buy things that could be used to cause harm. He knew Reiji liked knives but, he thought as he fished out a solid gold compass with diamond and sapphire inlays, he would have no part in any of Reiji’s more gruesome “hobbies”. He gave it to Reiji with a little bow and watched as his face fell when he opened the box.
“Yuu-chan,”
he groaned and shoved Yuuri. “You’re such a little prince. You never bring me anything fun. What is this?”
“I don’t care if it’s his dog’s shit. Say thank you,” Fujiwara said and took another sip of his whiskey.
Reiji grumbled but still gave Yuuri a little head bow; Yuuri pulled out a set of golden cuff links, a watch, and a tie clip for Isao, who accepted his souvenir with grace (before not so gracefully fixing the tie clip to his left earlobe like a piercing), and a Japanese version of Homer’s Odyssey for Shuhei.
He held the book out with two hands to Shuhei who did a double take between his own novel and his new gift.
“Azu-asu!”
He smiled, closed his book, shoved it under the kotatsu, took the Odyssey, and began to read. The other three were slowly joining him at the table and stealing his mandarin oranges.
“Nothing for me?” Nene, the woman with the pixie cut, teased from across the kotatsu as she set out a kettle and cups for tea.
“Of course I brought you something, onee-san,” Yuuri said, even though the only gifts he put actual thought into were Fujiwara’s and Shuhei’s. He looked into his bag again, trying to remember what he had chosen from his stash of emergency souvenirs. He pulled out a large flat box, trying to remember if it was another kind of set — perhaps pens? — and handed it to her.
She opened it with a flourish and
ooo-ed
prettily at it. Yuuri tried his best not to slap a hand over his face and Fujiwara craned his vulture neck towards the kotatsu for a better look.
“How come she gets nice stuff?!” Reiji protested, pointing angrily at the jaguar pendant necklace. It was priceless and technically belonged in a museum somewhere; Yuuri remembered retrieving it from a sunken ship when he was a teen. There was nothing subtle or fashionable about it but the appeal was in how undeniably
expensive
it was. He
wished
he had given it to Reiji, who was inarguably spoken for, when he looked at the way Nene held it up to the light before fastening it around her painted neck.
“How does it look?” She gloated in front of Reiji sticking her tongue out.
“You’re engaged, Nene. No ideas,” Fujiwara scolded once he saw what was in the box.
“I’ll marry Yuuri,” she chimed, setting off firecrackers in his nerves. “Or Mari-chan. Either one would be better than what I’ve got.”
“Hey, I’m
the oldest so
I
get to pick who I want to marry first!” Reiji protested, “What if
I
want to marry Yuuri?!”
Nene cursed at him and pelted the necklace’s box at his head. “You’re already married! You would think you would want your poor sister to marry someone who doesn’t smell like vinegar!”
“I didn’t even get to pick my wife!”
“Like I picked
my fiance?”
Nene shrieked back, rising to her feet and soon the two were bickering fiercely, in rapid Japanese, slinging curses at each other that Yuuri either didn’t recognize or had forgotten. He flinched when Nene slapped Reiji. The sound echoed in the room and Reiji pushed and slapped her back; that got Shuhei’s attention. He looked up from his book at them, his mouth hanging open a bit as if he didn’t understand what was happening, and for some reason… they stopped.
Nene sucked her teeth and sat back down. Reiji, to Yuuri’s surprise, sat next to her. Yuuri had no idea what to say.
“You’re not looking to settle down, are you Yuuri?” Fujiwara asked casually.
“I’m pretty busy these days,” Yuuri responded. It wasn’t a clear answer so it was perfect.
“You are, aren’t you. That’s that, Nene. Reiji.”
“You could’ve dug up a dead pig and told me that was my fiance,” Nene sniffed. “I wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between that and Tetsu.”
Fujiwara had been tame for the past twenty minutes so when he shouted and swore angrily, Yuuri jumped. “Learn to be grateful!” is what Yuuri picked up. His ears rang.
“But then you’ll have me buried under your house if I end up killing him when I’m middle aged with three ugly children,” she pulled out a knife, Yuuri froze, and didn’t think he would move again even as she stabbed an orange and plucked it off the tip. Fujiwara sucked his teeth.
“Yuuri, would you marry Nene?!”
“I — I wouldn’t mind. If you wanted me to, that is.”
“Fine! I’ll think about it! Nasty cow,
are you happy?!”
“Uncle…” Hiro prompted quietly.
Fujiwara cleared his throat and flicked his hand at Yuuri, who was glad for another task. The sooner he could leave the better. He didn’t have any more good adult gifts for Hiro who was technically high ranking because he hadn’t expected so many important figures to be in one place at once. What he had left were for lower ranking employees and for any children of employees… he supposed Hiro fit the bill.
He pulled out a Nintendo Switch and he wasn’t surprised when Hiro cheered and clapped. He had his hands on it when Fujiwara cursed at Yuuri and threw a pillow at his head.
“Absolutely not! He’s already got one!”
“Nooo, uncle, mine broke…”
The fuss over Yuuri’s souvenirs continued for longer than he would’ve liked and he hated himself for not just giving Nene one of the embroidered handkerchief sets or the rum chocolates, even if they weren’t as good as her siblings’ gifts. There was a dizzying amount of chaotic exchanges, most of them involving Nene and Reiji as Isao was dozing at the table and Shuhei, clearly, couldn’t be bothered since he was reading.
Fujiwara did not mind — Yuuri had to assume so as he never attempted to redirect the conversations, choosing instead to interject with blood-curdling reprimands that fell on mostly deaf ears when he thought his mentees were being rude. Fujiwara cleared his throat and sat up a bit straighter at a lull in the conversation.
“Yuuri, thank you kindly for visiting us tonight,” he bowed a little, becoming the formal version of himself that Yuuri was accustomed to from his childhood, the version he reserved for business, expressing gratitude, and people he didn’t know. He felt as if he had unwittingly stepped into an alternate reality tonight with the way everyone was behaving. He blamed the dead body... “And thank you for your generous gifts. It is late and I’m sure you are eager to see your family who are still quite a ways away from here so…” he held his hand up to the door, giving Yuuri permission to leave.
He panicked and became flustered when he realized the time had come. He bowed so suddenly and forcefully that his glasses almost slipped off his nose and he adjusted them when he sat up straight again.
“A-actually,” he began and Fujiwara lifted an eyebrow at him. He hurriedly backtracked. “Thank you for hosting me and welcoming me into your beautiful home. I enjoyed my stay. And, actually, I wanted to speak with you about something in particular.”
“Oh?”
He swallowed and forced himself to focus on Fujiwara’s pale, ghostly eyes. He felt the laser heat of four gazes melting into him as he spoke again.
“You have been so gracious to my family over the years by allowing me to work for you. They have lived a long and happy life, thanks to your protection.” He knew it was customary to bow again at this point, but he knew he didn’t need to; he only did it to give himself time to mentally double check what he wanted to say. Fujiwara cleared his throat again and sat back in his pillows.
“I am forever grateful to you for being flexible with my situation,” he continued, thinking about the time he was allowed to switch from being a doctor to a thief. “You treated me like a son.”
“Mhmm.”
“I was wondering,” Yuuri swallowed sands of panic, “if it wouldn’t cause any trouble, that is, if you would consider…
my
debt paid to you.” He put emphasis on the “my” trying his best to distance his family from the stunt he was pulling now. “I don’t think there is much else of significant monetary value that I could give you and I am afraid that continuing as I am now may draw unwanted attention to your personal affairs in America.”
“You want out?”
It wouldn’t be accurate to say that silence fell in the room because the symphony of crickets and hidden animals singing outside was plenty, but it was still enough for Yuuri to hear the ringing of the gunshot in his ears again. He wished Reiji or Nene would begin bickering so he could think, so he could wipe the sweat from his face without Fujiwara looking.
“Only if it wouldn’t be any trouble to you. So that I can take care of my parents in their old age.”
“Are you injured or something?”
“I…” he tried to control his breathing and think quickly at the same time, “I had an altercation with a hero recently.”
“That prick, Winter Torch,” Reiji growled around a bite of his orange. Fujiwara’s attention snapped to him and Yuuri’s heart dropped into his stomach. “I think it was on the American news. Yuuri got electrocuted.”
“If you want me to call the doctor, then say that, Yuuri,” Fujiwara grunted.
“No, you don’t have to go to any trouble—”
“You can’t make your asset an experiment, uncle,” Nene commented. “If Yuuri keeps stealing for you, he’ll keep getting hurt, and eventually the doctor will want to do to Yuuri what he did to himself, and then what good will he be to you? How will you make money then?”
Fujiwara chuckled a dry, humorless laugh, “And what good is he to me at all if he’s not working?”
“He’d be married to me,” she crossed her arms defiantly. He half expected Reiji to snap at her but he was still eating oranges thoughtfully. The bowl was soon empty and when Shuhei reached for it blindly, finding nothing, he looked at it with a small look of disappointment. He set his book on the kotatsu, picked up the bowl, and got up to leave.
“I asked you what good he would be to
me,”
Fujiwara spat and shook his head.
“Okukawa Minako taught him,” Nene provided. Yuuri wanted to throw up. “And you know how good she is. He’s plenty good to you here at home. Assassination is easier than getting in fights with heroes.”
A deep, agitated growl rumbled in Fujiwara’s throat. Yuuri wouldn’t be surprised if fangs appeared the next time he opened his mouth to speak even if he wasn’t a mutant. “I don’t get it. Yuuri’s like Shuhei. He doesn’t have to get into fights so I’m not seeing how the heroes are becoming such a problem for him.” He looked at Yuuri. All of the manic joy that was there minutes ago was gone and Yuuri was looking at what might as well have been ice wedged into the sockets of a dried out skull. “Did you lose your power?”
“No, sir, I — I didn’t want to be a burden, it was only a question so —”
“I only have room for one psychic pacifist under my roof, Katsuki.”
“I understand. I—”
“And I don’t appreciate you asking me to rescind my order, as if you have the authority to do that.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You know very well the importance of keeping your word. Of maintaining my trust. In what way are you maintaining my trust in you, right now?”
“I’m not,” Yuuri replied quietly and Fujiwara shouted at him to speak up. “I’m not,” he said again. “I apologize.”
“I don’t need this horse shit from you right now. I don’t need it.” He got to his feet and padded over to the kotatsu. He picked up the gun. Yuuri could hear Minako’s voice in the back of his head shrieking at him not to look away, to keep his eyes on the weapon. “Oi, Nene! You said assassination is easier than what he’s doing? He’s sitting here like a dead animal, not even blinking, and you think he can clean up for me?”
“He could try,” she said easily.
Fujiwara shoved the gun into Yuuri’s lax fingers. He pointed at Hiro who raised his hands in front of him, the Switch slipping down his lap.
“Go ahead and try then so you can convince me that this isn’t complete horse shit.”
Hiro sucked his teeth and groaned, “Uncle,
c’mon…”
“I wouldn’t need a gun,” Yuuri murmured quickly and stood before Fujiwara could doubt his initiative — that’s where most people messed up. Or guess that he was scared — and that was how
everyone
messed up. “Guns make noise.”
He moved to Hiro at the head of the kotatsu table; he was sitting there, eyes wide, when Yuuri advanced so suddenly on him, without protest or plea. When Yuuri dived down and reached for his neck, Hiro flailed his arms out, trying to hit him, but it was over before it began. With a quick, squeezing pressure, Hiro slumped faceforward onto the kotatsu. The warmth in Hiro’s throat against Yuuri’s fingertips made him shudder and he straightened up to hide the fact that he was trembling.
A breath of quiet filled the room. He had no idea what the decorum was so he held the gun out for Fujiwara to take from him. It left his fingers. Isao kicked Hiro’s leg experimentally under the kotatsu, pointed at the body, and looked at Reiji. Reiji rolled his eyes and pressed two fingers to Hiro’s neck.
“He’s not dead,” he declared. The laser scrutiny was burning into him again. He sucked in a rattling breath and nodded.
“I know… I wasn’t sure how... precious he was,” Yuuri glanced at Fujiwara, “so I wanted to give you options. You’re angry at
me
right now. Not Hiro-kun.”
Yuuri stood there, waiting for some kind of order for what felt like the entire night before Fujiwara’s hand was on his shoulder, forcing him roughly to his knees.
“I don’t need this right now,” he said again. “Do you understand?”
Yuuri bowed his head. He kept it low. “Yes, sir. I apologize for my impertinence. I didn’t mean to cause trouble.”
“I don’t need someone that I can’t trust in
America
of all places, Katsuki Yuuri.”
“Yes, sir.”
Fujiwara lifted his chin with the barrel of the gun. “You remember what I said when you were twelve? About keeping your word?”
Yuuri met his eyes and took a shuddering breath. “You said if I keep following through on my word that I might impress you.”
“And I’m still waiting for you to impress me. You could’ve had the chance to do just that in the new year with the journey we’re headed down, but now you’re telling me you don’t want to.”
“Sir, I—”
“Don’t interrupt me!”
Fujiwara bellowed. Yuuri’s eyes nearly fell shut in fear but he forced himself to keep them open, to look Fujiwara in the face when he was talking. “I need to know that I have someone in America that I can
trust,
Yuuri! Someone who won’t complain about the blessings I’ve given them just because they’ve gotten a few scratches! This
isn’t
the year for weakness!”
“Y-you can trust me sir.”
Fujiwara lowered the barrel to the dip between his jaw and throat. He gulped and his Adam's apple hit the metal. “Why should I believe you?”
“I have always been loyal to you.”
Fujiwara sucked his teeth and pulled the trigger. Yuuri’s body spasmed as his eyes flew shut at the sound of a shallow click. A tiny, choked gasp escaped him when he realized that, against the odds, he was still alive.
“It’s
empty,
you fool.” Fujiwara dropped it beside him and Yuuri flinched at the sound it made. “That’s the exact same thing he said before he died,” he pointed out the window in the general direction of what Yuuri could only assume was the body that Hiro had disposed of. “I wonder why it means more coming from you.”
“Maybe because Yuuri doesn’t make a hobby of disappointing you,” a soft voice said. Against his better judgment, Yuuri turned to see Shuhei standing in the doorway with a new bowl of peeled oranges. He sat back down at the kotatsu but looked at his father. “Kubo was always making extra work for you and the triplets. But Yuuri’s never been that messy.”
Fujiwara considered his son, his jaw working slowly as if feeling rocks between his teeth. He walked over to him to pluck an orange out of the bowl.
“Why are you still up?” He asked.
Shuhei held up the book Yuuri gave him. “I’m reading,” he said, and turned back to his saved page. Fujiwara raised an eyebrow at him, shook his head, and popped an orange wedge in his mouth.
Yuuri heard him hiss out a slow stream of air as he turned back to him. “I don’t like what happened tonight. You ruined a perfectly good evening, Katsuki.”
“I apologize.” Yuuri bowed until his nose touched the tatami mat. The smell of iron and salt filled his nose. The first tear of the night slid slowly down his face and onto the mat, making a pink drop where it landed. He closed his eyes, and tried to focus on his quiet, shallow breathing until he heard Fujiwara speak again.
“Get out.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
In a rare show of obedience, Victor was
not
on his way to the airport to wait for Yuuri’s flight to arrive. In fact, it took so much out of him to not do exactly that, that he had not trusted himself to leave Yakov’s apartment for the entire five-day period of Yuuri’s trip. He did not trust himself in any vehicle or in public at all because he felt in the marrow of his bones that something was wrong, and he was being a fool for not doing anything about it. But Yakov’s words
— “
Don’t get your hostage shot”—
haunted him like a colic ghost. The only thing he could do was stay put in his room, doing nothing at all, and he supposed he should count himself lucky that hell week was finally starting to die down.
The chaos had subsided earlier than it had in previous years, and he guessed it was because of all the “fireworks” lately — Victor had really put on a show these past few weeks with the walls of fire, the storm cloud racing across the sky, and then the electrocution…
He shuddered and an audible cry escaped him when the memory came back; he snatched his pillow from his side and shoved it over his face as if he could suffocate the thought of him hurting Red Specter… of him hurting Yuuri. He threw his pillow at the door when he heard a knock.
“Victor, you’re not sleeping. It’s only six,” Yuri growled.
“I’m busy,” he snapped, and the door slammed open.
“Busy doing
fuck-all,”
Yuri roared and jumped onto the bed, forcing Victor to roll out of the way just before a very important part of him was trampled. “Get
up,
you smelly bag! It’s time for
dinner!”
“O-
kay,”
Victor huffed as he tried to get his bearings on the shaking bed without falling off, but it was getting increasingly difficult the more his brother jumped, “Would you
stop—”
“Would you stop,”
he mocked. Before Victor could get in a biting retort, Makkachin rushed through the open door, clearly drawn to the sound of chaos, and hopped up on the bed with Yuri, jumping and barking and stepping on all of Victor’s important parts.
“Please —
ouch! — down,
girl. No—”
“It’s! Time! For! DINNER!” Yuri said on each jump before body slamming Victor, effectively drawing out an undignified
ughoof
from his brother who was now furious but couldn’t act on the emotion because Makka had flopped down on top of the two, trapping them both in place. “Your dog is heavy,” Yuri complained with a scowl and blew a tuft of blonde hair out of his face.
“Off. Now.”
“Only if you promise to come out once I let you up.”
“Off.”
“Promise!”
“I promise! Let me up, I can’t
breathe!”
Yuri gave him a seething look before huffing, “Fine,” and he bent up suddenly so that Makka hopped off the bed in surprise, but she was still clearly elated at the change in the game. “And you better not be lying because Yakov won’t start dinner unless you come out.”
“I’m not lying,” Victor said, standing up and smoothing out his clothes. Yuri smirked and crossed his arms.
“If you value your eardrums, you’d better not be,” he threatened, and Victor took him by the shoulders to steer him out of the room.
“Yes, yes, yes, you’re very fierce and tough. I’ll be out after I shower,” he said and closed the door on Yuri’s protest, quickly locking it for good measure.
His back fell against the door, and he let out a long exhale as if he had just fought a long battle. Maybe he’d moped long enough — he was in the final stretch, after all. If Yuuri was OK, he’d be home soon. And then he could figure out what to do with Yakov and everyone else’s help. In the meantime, he needed to get through dinner.
Victor showered (for the second time that night because he washed when he was anxious) in what he hoped was no more than five minutes. He got out, put on pajamas, wrapped a towel around his shoulders to let his hair drip dry, then headed into the kitchen. Yakov was there with Yuri sitting at the kitchen island. He hesitated when he saw them, and they looked up expectantly at him.
“I… I wasn’t too long, was I?”
“You took
forever,”
Yuri groaned.
“You’re fine, Vitya, the chicken is still in the oven.” Yakov looked at the clock over the stove and growled, “it’s not even six thirty yet.”
“Ah, I see,” Victor rolled his eyes and his gaze fell, with the full weight of every last ounce of melodrama in his body, on Yuri. “Remember when I told you that if you missed me, you should just
say
so? I was actually under the impression that a bountiful feast was freezing over in the winds of my absence.”
“Your
butt’s
freezing over…” Yuri mumbled and pulled out his phone. Yakov shot them both exasperated looks over his shoulder.
“Ha ha
ha.
That’s very clever,” he pulled up a seat at the island, “I can’t believe I’m related to Shakespeare reincarnated. Wow.” Yuri mumbled something about Victor being adopted, angled his phone at Victor, took a picture, then continued typing. Victor blinked and frowned. “Who’d you send that to?”
“None of your nasty business.”
“Robin?”
“It’s not your nasty business, Victor.”
Victor huffed, “Yakov, I —”
“I hope I don’t have to remind you about the protocol on the secret identities of heroes, Yura,” Yakov snapped, his back to them as he stirred a pot on the stove.
“Uh-uh.”
“Good,” Yakov mumbled back, and Victor threw his hands up helplessly. “First order of business, which is admittedly a few days old but…” Victor watched Yakov put a lid on the pot and gingerly reach for something on the top of the refrigerator. He pulled down something small and placed it on the island.
It was a cake. A little cerulean cake complete with a golden, fondant stag standing in the middle of a matching ring of crystals and roses. Tears welled up in his eyes at it and he was confused and touched and surprised, all of those emotions combining their powers to punch him good in the heart. The cake was no bigger than a saucer but it turned him into mush the second he saw it.
“W-what’s this?” he asked.
“I bought it,” Yakov said awkwardly.
“For me?”
“It was your birthday,” he replied, defensive, “I was going to light candles, but I didn’t know you had plans and then things got busy the next day…”
Victor covered his mouth with his hands, “I’m sorry.” his voice sounded squeaky; Yakov cleared his throat and slid a napkin across the island for Victor to hastily pick up and wipe his tears with.
“Ugh,
gross…” Yuri scooched his stool away from Victor.
“It’s been in the freezer…” Yakov said with quiet discomfort, “No point in wasting good cake… but I don’t know how good it is anymore… and Yuri was making a fuss so I figured we could have it before dinner...”
“It’s perfect!” Victor exclaimed with a watery chuckle. “I love it!”
“It’s been sitting in the freezer for
ages,”
Yuri whined, kicking the island in frustration, “who turns down cake just because they’re in a bad mood?”
Victor laughed, “Well, in my defense, I didn’t know I
had
a cake to turn down. I-I’m really sorry, I had no idea that you planned something so nice—”
“Aah,”
Yakov cut him off agitatedly, waving a dismissive hand at him; he had been rummaging through the drawers for something and he seemed to find it: a box of candles. “None of that,” he scolded lightly and began to arrange the candles in a neat circle around the stag.
“I’ll get the lighter,” Yuri said, jumping down from his stool and reappearing seconds later with one. After each little gold candle was lit, Yuri took pictures of the cake and showed them to Victor for approval. He sent them and then Yakov passed out bowls with spoons. After that, he and Yakov began to sing “Happy Birthday”; they got through two “happy birthday to you” verses before Yakov gave Yuri, who had begun lip syncing and picking his nails, an accusatory look. Yakov, flustered, cleared his throat, gestured to the cake as if to say, “that’s that,” then pulled a knife out of the drawer.
“That was absolutely beautiful, thank you,” Victor wheezed, laughing through tears. He blew out the candles and they dug into the start of a lazy evening.
It felt floaty and warm, far removed from all the hurt and pain that he had grown accustomed to over the past few months. Just being able to sit and laugh with his little family without a care in the world felt like a hazy dream. He forgot that Yakov could laugh… he had forgotten the last time they all did this together. Yakov pointed at Victor’s empty bowl.
“Seconds?” he asked.
“Da, pozhaluysta!”
He cheered, raising his hands in the air. “That was delicious!”
“This is going to cost you an entire afternoon of drills,” Yakov informed him and cut another slice. He slid it back to Victor who accepted it with a grateful little dance in his chair. “Maybe in the evening too. I’m telling Lilia tomorrow.”
Victor picked up a creamy, chocolatey scoop of cake and hummed. “It’s so worth it.”
Yakov grunted, “Just don’t ruin your appetite… There's chicken and stewed vegetables for dinner. And, speaking of worth it, I hope letting Chris go to that party of yours was worth it. Did you two have a good time? You know, Katsuki fiasco aside...”
Victor bit bitterly on a smile that was slowly growing on his face. Yuri hissed beside him and pulled the cake closer so that he could cut a big chunk for seconds.
“Katsuki fiasco aside?” He spooned the chilled chocolate in his bowl and murmured, “It was
amazing.”
“Glad to hear it,” Yakov sounded surprised but nodded in approval as he stood. He shuffled about the kitchen, pulling a small chicken out of the oven to place on the stove. Soon, the kitchen air was filled with the savory smell of herbs, and he pulled clean plates and bowls from cabinets. “Can you tell me about it, or would I be ashamed to hear the details?”
“Definitely shame,” Yuri said, wiping frosting from the corner of his lip on the back of his sleeve.
Yakov scowled at him. “And what were
you
doing there?”
“I was bored. And if you don’t think I’m safe with nearly half of your staff of heroes, then that’s on you now, isn’t it?”
Yakov pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head while Victor turned on his stool to raise a reproving brow at Yuri.
“I
told
you that the party was too mature for you.”
“Oh, piss off! I had about ten different heroes tasting my drink to test it for alcohol all night long!”
“There was
alcohol
there?!” Yakov exclaimed in horror at Victor.
“Yakov,” Victor blinked at him,
“I’m
an adult, remember? It was
my
party...”
“And
I’m
responsible enough without a bunch of your employees going all CSI on my snacks,” Yuri snapped.
“That explains why I saw so many people waterfalling drinks. I was starting to think I was missing out on a game or that there was some kind of cup shortage…”
“Your coworkers are
insufferable.
I had three different heroes taste the same drink at different times. I barely even got a
sip!”
“Must’ve been torture,” Victor mocked, sucking on his spoon. Yuri made an ugly face at him, scrunching his nose like a pig, sticking his tongue out, and rolling his eyes into the back of his skull. Victor responded by lunging forward in his stool with the six-eyed head of the
domovoi.
“WGAAHH!”
Yuri screamed and, arms flailing, he fell backwards onto the floor. He usually used fire for that trick, but the ice and vapor always worked just fine. Victor roared with laughter, immediately rising to help Yuri up, which he realized too late, was a mistake. Yuri’s pupils collapsed into slits as he stretched his mouth wide, and Victor flinched away. His hands flew to his ears, bracing for the sonic scream that was coming. But it didn’t… he looked down at Yuri who was outraged and stretching his mouth open further, baring canines that were far too sharp, but Victor could tell no sound was coming out; none of the dishes had shattered.
“Hahaha,” he dropped his hands from his ears to point and laugh at his brother. He wanted to gloat some more as the
domovoi
but he found that there wasn’t a single drop of power inside him. He turned to see that Yakov had surpassed several shades of red and was massaging his temples so forcefully that Victor thought he’d knead right into gray matter.
“Can you two behave in the same room for more than
ten minutes?!”
He growled, “Victor! Act your age and help your brother up.”
“Yes, sir,” Victor giggled and bent to offer Yuri his hand, only to have it swatted away. Yuri huffed and pulled himself back onto his stool. With one long, seething look, he plucked the fondant stag from Victor’s cake and bit off its head without breaking eye contact. Ignoring the ensuing protests, Victor reached over to wipe some of the icing from Yuri’s cheek then ruffled his hair with a loving smile.
“Are you going to tell me about this party, or can we start dinner?” Yakov demanded. He quickly stood from his seat to bring the chicken to the island.
“We can start dinner,” Yuri said immediately, although he was still working his way through the chunk of cake that he had helped himself to.
“The party was,” Victor thought about the moments before he had followed Yuuri to the bathroom, the time they spent dancing and laughing. The time when they were happy together, for just a couple of hours… And even before then, before Yuuri had shown up, his friends were there, his
best
friend was there along with his brother and some
delicious
food that he simply could
not
tell Lilia about, not after the cake he’d just had…. “The party was fantastic.”
“Do you know how to make cheese tarts?” Yuri asked suddenly after having resurfaced from licking his cake bowl clean like a puppy. Yakov snatched the bowl from him and placed it in the sink with a disapproving look.
“Do I know how to make
what,
now?”
“Cheese tarts.” When Yakov looked nonplussed, Yuri turned to Victor, “that’s what they’re called right? Those things at your party?”
“I don’t know, Yura, maybe.”
He turned back to Yakov, “Can we make those?” When Yakov raised his eyebrows wearily at him, he shook his head. “Never mind, I’ll just find a recipe online.”
“I never said I couldn’t,” Yakov quickly said. He began busying himself with carving the chicken, but Victor noticed that Yakov wasn’t meeting his eyes, no doubt because the shock was evident on Victor’s face. “I don’t want you messing up my kitchen,” he grumbled.
“I can
cook,”
Yuri pouted, which made Victor tighten his lips on a smile.
“Yeah,” Victor agreed, mentally high fiving himself for keeping his tone even, “Yuri can cook. How old are you again, Yuri?”
“Sixteen!”
“Yeah, sixteen. That’s old enough, right, dad?”
“Maybe you can start cooking when you learn some table manners,” Yakov scolded lightly in Russian. The sound of Victor’s mother tongue was warm and playful, and he just wanted to sink into it. It was getting harder to hold back the laugh that bubbled to his lips when he caught Yuri sucking his teeth. He turned back to Yakov; the usually stony expression on his adoptive father’s face was softening and twisting in a funny way when he looked at Yuri, almost as if he was trying not to laugh too.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“Tadaima.”
His mother dropped a stack of folded towels and squealed with glee. She rushed into Yuuri’s outstretched arms and hugged him so hard he wondered if she had super strength after all. “My son,” she squeaked, “my beautiful, wonderful son is finally home!” “I missed you,” he whispered into her shoulder, hugging her tight. He felt giddy at the smell of her perfume that hadn’t changed since his childhood, the sound of her biting on her cheek as she was wont to do when she was smiling so hard she couldn’t contain herself. “So much.” “Okaeri!” Overcome with relief and love, he planted several kisses on his mother’s forehead, picked her up, and spun her around. “OH! Yuuri! Put me down, there are customers!” She laughed as he set her on her feet. Vicchan came scampering around the corner, yipping excitedly and jumped up to place his itty bitty paws on Yuuri’s knees. He couldn’t help the tears that filled his eyes and he scooped his pup up into his arms like a baby. “Hey, boy! Hey! Hisashiburi na!” Vicchan wiggled and licked his cheeks. “You got so big! Do you really remember me? After all this time?” “Of course he does.” Yuuri looked up to see Mari in the kitchen doorway. She had changed; sometime after he left, she had dyed her hair, decided that she hated it, cut it off herself, and decided that would be her new look, complete with a purple headband to keep it all tied back. Before she dyed her hair, people would sometimes mistake them for twins. They both had round faces, strong brows, and the same warm eyes. But she had become her own work of art. A slow smile built on his face when he realized that he thought she looked different because of the hair. Not because she had been sick. She looked different, but good. Healthy. Happy. Setting Vicchan carefully down, he kicked his shoes off and ran towards her. She held her arms open and he fell into them, squeezing her tight. With a half choke, half cackle, she tugged at his arms. “You’re killing me,” she rasped. “I missed you so much.” “We talk every day, Yuuri. Leave the drama to Phichit.” “I love you,” he said, pulling her closer and screwing his eyes tight on tears. “I love you too,” she said. She stroked his hair gently. “I guess I missed you a little.” “Oh, you know it was more than a little!” Yuuri’s father chuckled behind him. Before Yuuri could release Mari to hug him too, his dad had squished into his children’s embrace, effectively making a Yuuri sandwich. He hummed, “Let’s see… I think I can still pick you two up.” “Toshiya, your back!” Hiroko warned, but he had already made a half hearted attempt at lifting the two of them. An impressive crackling sound made him give up, settling for patting the two on the head. After more warm hugs, welcomes, laughs, and kisses, Mari helped him bring his things into his old room. He got changed and headed down for a late dinner: katsudon, Yuuri’s favorite. They talked into the small hours as Yuuri indulged in his family’s presence. He marveled at the feeling of having them close enough to touch, to protect if need be. Vicchan’s fluffy body curled up and wiggling in his lap almost didn’t feel real; he kept one hand on his little, scrappy head throughout dinner. “I can’t believe you’re only here for a few days,” Mari griped, lighting a cigarette. She blew smoke over her shoulder. “You only just got here.” “I only came to check up on you guys,” he said softly. “I also feel bad that I couldn’t bring souvenirs for everyone…” His family let out several affronted sounds of reproach. “Don’t you dare Yuuri,” Mari warned. He held up his hands defensively. “I know, I know —” “Yuuri, you don’t owe us anything,” Toshiya said. “How you could even begin to think —” “Mom, I know,” he interrupted gently, “but we’re still family and I still think about presents sometimes… so I got Mari something.” “Nope, uh-uh,” she shook her head. “Yuuri, whatever it is, I’m not taking it.” “Are you sure?” He took his wallet out of his pocket. “Yes, I’m sure. Are you out of your mind?” “So,” he opened his wallet, “are you telling me that you’re going to turn down whatever it is I offer you?” She wrinkled her brows at him and reached out to tweak his nose. “You think I’d be swayed by your money? When did you get so insulting…” “I never said it was money. In fact,” he thumbed through a few receipts and pulled out two slips of paper, “I never even said I bought anything.” “Yuuri, purchased or stolen… I’m not taking your gifts.” He rolled his eyes and slid the paper across the table to her. “I didn’t steal these. Now who is thinking less of who?” “Yuuri,” she snatched them up, “I’m not kidding! After everything you’ve done for us, you really think I’ll just — OH MY GOD!” In mid-scolding, she did a double take, outed her cigarette in the ashtray, realized what she was holding, screeched, and rocketed to her feet.Yuuri beamed, smug. His parents looked utterly lost. “HOW DID YOU —” “Radio contest. Because apparently those still exist.” “OH MY —” “But since you said you were going to turn down my gift, I guess I’ll have to ask Phichit to go see Taking Back December with me…” she turned watering eyes on him. She somehow managed to look both pleading and scolding at the same time. “I’m not even sure he’s heard any of their music…” “Yuuri, I swear —” “This is December …? This month… in English?” His mother tried and Toshiya shrugged at her. “Probably about some boy,” he muttered around his last bite of rice. Mari’s head swiveled towards him and he jumped at the sharp attention. “This is Taking Back December, dad, and these aren’t just some boys, they’re TAKING BACK DECEMBER!!” She shrieked and jumped in the air, clutching the tickets to her chest. “The band she likes,” Yuuri provided because their parents still looked lost. When they nodded, Hiroko cast a look of concern on Mari who was still jumping excitedly. “Sit down, dear,” she said gently, “I don’t want you to hurt yourself…” Mari ignored her and looked at her tickets again. Her eyes widened. “But this is for the summer. And it’s in America. Detroit?” Yuuri nodded. “It’s part of their world tour coming up.” “I’m coming to America?” He nodded, “If you don’t mind hanging out with me.” An ecstatic smile lit up her face, her eyes shining with excitement as she stared at Yuuri as if she were seeing a future version of him instead of the one that was sitting right in front of him. “I can’t believe it…” she breathed. Her knees buckled under her; Vicchan yipped and popped out of Yuuri’s lap. Shocked, Yuuri jumped up to catch her by the elbows. Their parents also jumped into action, all of them holding some part of her. “M-Mari?” Yuuri asked, a pit of alarm and helplessness opening inside him when he realized that she wasn’t gaining her bearings, but sinking further down onto the floor until she was on her knees where Vicchan eagerly nosed her thigh as if trying to assess her condition. “Are you ok?!” his father asked. “Are you in pain?! Toshiya, go get the medicine from the bathroom —” His father ran off. “I’m fine…” “What happened?!” Yuuri spluttered. “Just got excited…” Mari sighed. She leaned her elbows on the table and cradled her head in her hands. “I’m just a little dizzy. I’m fine.” Toshiya came running back with a glass of water and a bottle of pills and thrust them with trembling hands at his daughter. She took them with a nod and a small smile. Yuuri watched her and hadn’t noticed the air trapped in his chest until he suddenly couldn’t breathe and he let out a shaky exhale. He looked at his parents as if he would find some sort of direction there but they only watched Mari as she downed the pills and closed her eyes. At least she looked serene. “I just got excited,” she said again after a long silence. “Are you OK?” Yuuri asked and he felt silly and small when he realized that there was nothing he could do if she said “no”. “I shouldn’t have been jumping around like that. I’m out of shape…” Hiroko placed a hand on top of her daughter’s and shook her head. Mari smiled. “Sorry, ma.” Hiroko shook her head again and squeezed her hand. Yuuri wondered if it would be OK to put his hand on top of theirs, but decided there wouldn’t be a point, decided that there was nothing he could do to make it better. “Yuuri,” Hiroko turned to him, her voice wavering but still valiantly cheerful, “you must be tired. You had to make a stop before here, after all.” He picked up on the subtle reference to the Fujiwara check-in a beat too late; after a moment, it finally donned on him and his parents gave him inquiring looks. “No trouble, I hope?” his father asked. “No, no…” Yuuri shook his head quickly. He didn’t want to worry them — they needed to focus on Mari. He had no way of helping her, he thought when he glanced at her sighing and massaging her temples, so he didn’t want to add on any unneeded stress. “It was fine.”
“Yuuri.”
He winced at the light scolding from his mother and his father’s sigh. “Nothing, really.” “You can tell us, Yuuri. Who was there? Hiro-san?” "Yeah, he was there…” His parents nodded and his sister looked up. “He’s weird, that one,” she said. She sounded frail, but Yuuri could hear the indignation, as if this was something she had been thinking about for a while and was relieved to finally be able to parse it out. “I have no idea what’s up with him.” “They’re all pretty strange, aren’t they,” he agreed and his parents leaned in. “So there were others? His son?” Yuuri nodded at his mom, relenting, and told them all about Shuhei and the triplets, which only seemed to concern them. His parents were masters at painting their faces, but Yuuri had come to recognize the subtle shifts in their gazes for what they were. “Something must’ve happened, Yuuri,” his mother finally said in a low voice. “Ah,” he gasped softly, a shudder sneaking up on him when he suddenly felt the cold pressure of metal on his throat; his memories often became tangible when they were laced with fear and, if he closed his eyes, he would be able to smell blood, see a bowl of oranges… he made the mistake, out of habit mostly, of screwing his eyes shut to get his bearings, and he immediately opened them again to find his family watching him intently. “Well,” he allowed, “they weren’t there because of me. But…they seemed excited when I got there. Fujiwara… more than usual…was in a good mood.” “Good mood,” his father tsked, shaking his head. “I’ve seen a bit of that good mood. I can tell he’s getting more and more out of control. He’s somehow been keeping himself alive for over a century and that kind of power is bound to mess with you.” “You think he’s gotten worse… more than before?” Yuuri asked. His parents nodded and his mother replied, “You’ve done a lot for him, son, but you don’t know him the way your father and I do… you don’t know why he does the things that he does.” She exchanged a brief glance with Toshiya before continuing, “He has a specific set of what he calls values. And what he values above all else is family.” “The idea of family,” Toshiya corrected darkly. “His idea, yes, and we all know he’s built a family for himself. It’s not just blood relations like Shuhei and Hiro, it’s all of his subordinates like Reiji, Nene, Isao—” “Me…” he finished. His mother blinked at him, “You?” “He called me his son,” he explained, with a brief and sickening flip in his stomach. His mother let out a little breath and Toshiya closed his eyes. “Today?” She asked and when Yuuri nodded, she exchanged another glance with her husband. “I… well the concept of good and bad has always been a difficult one under this roof, but I suppose it would be difficult to ignore that status is important when it comes to protecting yourself…” her mental grappling was evident in her round face and she nodded, “I suppose this is a good thing. For your safety. For everyone’s safety, Yuuri.” My safety. He hissed out a breath of air and cradled his head in his hands. He felt his mother’s hand on his back as he closed his eyes to examine his most recent nightmare. He saw a pink tear on a tatami mat… a gun near his lap. The gun was empty. He hadn’t known it was empty. “Yuuri.” He looked up at his sister. Her eyes were hard as iron, her jaw rigid, and fist flexing on the table. “Yes?” “What do you want to do?” “W-what do you mean?” “What do you want to do from here on out? I’ve been home for about a month and I’m healing quickly. There’s no more hospital bills and the only reason you’re still working is to pay him. You came home to see us and I just can’t help but think that this can be a turning point for you. What do you want to do?” “I—” “What do you want me to do?” She asked with a hint of sharpness as she pursed her lips low to blow her purple smoke out under her chin, like a monster preparing to raze a city to the ground. “Not that,” he shook his hand quickly at the smoke and she smirked without a hint of humor. “I know for a fact that you wouldn’t hesitate to suffocate him but…” he looked at his parents; his mother was giving Mari that put upon look of quiet disapproval that he remembered from childhood, and his father was busy trying to wrangle a wiggling Vicchan into an apparently unwanted embrace. He pointed his head at them when he looked at his sister. “That’s not what they would want.” “Pfft,” Mari laughed, “you should hear the way mom—” “Yeah, I know they don’t like him, to put it lightly, but… they wouldn’t want us to become what he is. That’s why they defected in the first place, right? If we do what he does, then what’s the point of any of the sacrifices we’ve made? What’s the point of any of this?” “Yuuri…” his mother sighed softly and rubbed his back. Mari’s eyes softened and her shoulders slumped at him. She found another cigarette to light and she gave him that gentle look of exasperation that he was so fond of. “He’s right,” Toshiya nodded and finally released Vicchan who scampered back into Yuuri’s lap. “I’m ashamed to say that your mother and I started a fight that we couldn’t finish ourselves. If you kill him,” he warned, meeting Mari’s eyes with a kind of attention that could be measured in pounds and mistaken for steel, “you won’t be able to save anyone. You won’t even be able to save yourself. And then what can you claim to have accomplished? You can hate me and your mother for our mistakes, and you would be right to do so, but you must find another way to your freedom. To your justice.” “We don’t hate you, dad,” Mari soothed and Yuuri shook his head, “but we do have more options than you and mom, more power, even. How many people would be better off without him around?” “Yes, you have more options than we do which is precisely my point,” he said emphatically raising a finger, “you have the option to be better than us, to not just simply cast a snake out of the house the way we have, or even to cut the head off one the way you want to, but to purge a garden.” Mari sighed irritatedly and shook her head, taking out the cigarette to blow smoke over her shoulder. “I am willing to bet my life that someone was hurt or died today because of him and you know what? I’m almost positive that I’d gain an extra life in this venture.” The hair on the back of Yuuri’s neck stood up when the image of a bloody halo around a pale head clouded his vision. A mess, Fujiwara called it. “If only there was a way to ask a corpse if they minded me cutting the head off of a snake.” “Mari, darling, murder is a short sighted solution,” his mother intoned, “and issues of morality aside, since you’re focused on the practicality of this, what will you do if you find out that killing Fujiwara only made way for someone worse? What will you do if you find out that he can’t be killed so easily?” “I guess I’ll have to consult with Minako sensei on the logistics, then,” she replied flippantly. His mother gave a short and cold laugh, making Yuuri shift uncomfortably in his seat. He didn’t like the way it sounded. “To save you the trip across foreign waters, I’ll give you a little insight. I’m no assassin but as a daughter of the yakuza, you pick up on things. Assassination isn’t for patching up wounds. It’s for creating openings. You kill a CEO so someone can step in and take their place. You kill another assassin so that a would-be target can finally be left to their own devices. You kill the head of an organization like Fujiwara’s to start a war. A war for two things,” she held up two fingers, “succession and blood.” “You’re one person, darling,” Toshiya said, “and you can’t fight a war from two different sides on your own.” When Mari raised a questioning brow at him he laughed dryly. “You didn’t think that killing him wouldn’t invite attention from authorities, heroes, did you? You would be up against Fujiwara’s entire family and law enforcement alike. You wouldn’t be able to save anyone. Not even yourself. “So are you saying I shouldn’t even try to save Yuuri? My little brother?!” She raised her voice and Yuuri recoiled in his seat; he wasn’t used to hearing her like this, to hearing his parents talk like this, to any of this, and he didn’t like it. He shouldn’t feel out of place here... was this a recurring topic that he didn’t know about? It must’ve been; they’d fallen into a stride that Yuuri quickly fell behind. “Mari —” “Yuuri,” she snapped, eyes shining, and he jumped, “You’ve missed out on everything.” “I — I know. I’ve been gone for so long and I suppose a lot happened while I was away —” “No, Yuuri, you missed out on your life,” she corrected him with angry tears in her eyes. “I got to kiss boys, go to concerts and argue with mom and dad about my hair color when I was a teenager! And what did you get? A death threat! How is that fair to you?!” “Mari —” “When will you let me protect you, Yuuri? You’re my little brother! You’re looking at me like I’m weak —” “I’ve never thought you were weak —” “— but I’m certain you’ve faced much worse than I have and fought through it,” she interrupted him and wiped a tear away impatiently. “You don’t think I can do the same? That I won’t?” “You’ve got… the same look on your face that Phihcit does when he gets protective,” Yuuri laughed quietly at his sister who narrowed earthy eyes at him, scowling around her cigarette, and he guessed he should shiver at the fierceness of her gaze, but it was fierce for him. For his sake. He was reminded of the edge on Phichit’s voice when he talked about kicking Lam’s ass or how much he hated Fujiwara. “I’ve got two ballistic siblings. Neither of you can throw punches at a syndicate, though I understand the temptation. We can protect each other in different ways. Phichit and I do.” “He’s another one,” she huffed, getting to her feet, to their parents’ immediate distress. “Phichit didn’t take a single practical field defense class at the Grand Prix, did he? You’re both reliable, yes, but neither of you are invincible. He’s fast but he’s not like you. He’s cocky and he lacks the experience of eating dirt after making a mistake.” Yuuri shook his head warily at his sister’s tirade and in his struggle to find words to combat this, she took the opportunity to continue, pacing angrily about the kitchen as she went. “Mom and dad weren’t kidding when they said Fujiwara has been acting weird lately. It could be that he’s taken on more than his body can handle, but I think he’s up to something. He’s not just some crime lord. He’s… he’s… pure evil and something’s happening that can’t be stopped by a couple of plucky young men living in a two bedroom flat! You don’t want to go to heroes for help, you don’t want me to help, neither of you want any help it seems, so I guess I should just accept that you’ll die an eighty year old jewel thief, puppet of the two hundred year old demon that robbed you of your childhood. But, hey, at least you took the moral high ground, right?!”
He’s pure evil… he saw his sister’s bright red face and sparking eyes, but nothing beyond an image registered in his mind. Those words had lifted him out of his frustration at her and landed him in the middle of a terrible, half formed realization. He had always suspected that Fujiwara was doing something with the millions of dollars he had earned for him. But he’d assumed it was for buying properties, blackmail, or lavishing himself with riches, but those were things that typical crime lords did. This was Fujiwara. This was different. This was evil. He blinked, and for that second he saw chips of ice wedged into the eye sockets of a dried out skull, Fujiwara, speaking to him: “This isn’t the year for weakness.” He said it emphatically, insisted on it. Something was happening in the new year. Something that required him having someone in America that he could trust. Someone in Spring Gate. He hadn’t realized he was shaking his head, his eyes wide until he noticed his family was looking at him questioningly. “Yuuri?” His mother asked softly. When he couldn’t find his words, she looked imploringly to Mari who huffed before her mother could begin her scolding. “Things are difficult for him now without thinking about something like this, Mari. Can we at least get through one evening before —” “Mom,” Yuuri cut in, because he hadn’t really heard her speaking, “something happened.” “W-what, dear?” She and Toshiya looked at him. “Something happened,” he said again and he found his sister, arms crossed, standing across the kitchen. “Can you come here?” he asked. She looked ready to stand there for the rest of time like a grumpy looking statue, but her arms dropped and she made her way back to sit next to him. “Something happened and...” he repeated, taking a quiet breath. He heard a gunshot, Nene slapping Reiji, Hiro laughing boisterously, Fujiwara’s blood curdling shouts, a page turning in Shuhei’s book. “And I don’t want to talk about it. I can’t.” Toshiya leaned across the table to clasp both of Yuuri’s hands between his. “Son, you don’t have to. It’s OK. It’s going to be OK.” He gave him a short nod. “I need you to understand though… you can’t stay here anymore. In Hasetsu. Or Japan.” Silence fell in the kitchen at his words and he could only hope that they could see that there was no arguing this, could see in his eyes the pain he foresaw without him having to go into detail, because he just couldn’t. His mother placed her hand over Toshiya’s which were still holding Yuuri’s. “Are you OK, Yuuri?” she asked. “I don’t know,” he replied truthfully, “but you can’t stay here. It’s not safe.” It was quiet again. His parents looked at each other then to Mari who looked as if she could chew up her cigarette. She gave them an odd little gesture that was trapped somewhere between a nod, a shrug and a flippant hand wave. “OK, Yuuri,” his father said. “Do you… want us to live with you in America?” “Yes,” he nodded, relieved. “OK,” his father echoed. He patted Yuuri’s hands. “OK. We’ll go. But you know… we can’t leave Hasetsu at the same time as you.” “But —” “It’ll be a bit suspicious,” his mother quickly explained. “If something really did happen, we don’t want it to look like we’re running away, otherwise it could be dangerous for all of us. We need to give it a little time. A month. Just to let the dust settle.” He looked at Mari. “And then you’ll all come?” She hissed low and put out her cigarette. “I already told you before that I can get to you faster than you can get to me,” she said. He tried on a smile. “Of course we’ll come.”
* The time Yuuri spent with his family went by quicker than he would’ve liked. He soaked in the onsen almost twice a day and ate a lot more katsudon than was strictly healthy, but his mother made the best in the world which made it a finite resource. He wouldn’t be able to have it again once he left. Well, at least not for another month. Even helping with chores around the onsen felt like a vacation. Compared to running for his life in a sewer, it certainly was, and his family had a hard time understanding that (he spared them the details about sewage…). He and Mari took turns cleaning out the baths which she was loudly grateful for, and he checked guests in, marveling in having normal conversations with civilians. The onsen wasn’t doing too badly now that it was winter and they got plenty of older people, young couples, and a few businessmen. Yuuri gave a tour to one businessman who had insisted on it. He showed him everything from the private baths to the traditional style room that he would be staying in. It was strange though, because Yuuri didn’t think the man was really paying attention to anything he was saying, but he was still glad to have something to do. Later that evening, when Yuuri came down for dinner, he discovered the same businessman, Seung-gil, in the kitchen with his parents learning how to make mochi. “Lessons on traditional Japanese cuisine,” his mother explained brightly which made Yuuri smile. How long had it been since he made mochi? How old was he? He liked it with sweet red bean paste and matcha… He rolled up his sleeves to help. Seung-gil left the next morning and it was finally time for Yuuri to start thinking about his return to America. For two days, he researched how to travel internationally with a pet because he didn’t want to leave Vicchan behind again. But, when the day came to leave, he accepted that it was more responsible to let his parents care for him since Yuuri’s situation was becoming increasingly volatile — he didn’t want anything to happen to his pup while his status as a thief and a civilian was so precarious. Vicchan really wasn’t making the decision easy though; he slept with Yuuri every night, followed him around the house, and whined when Yuuri closed the bathroom or onsen door on him. Surely, there was a way to take care of him in America? Maybe Laszlo could watch him if something happened to Yuuri — he liked animals, after all… But Laszlo was in more or less the same situation as Yuuri. Before he left, he stood at the front of the house, saying final goodbyes and receiving last minute hugs from his family. They assured him that they would soon be right behind him, that they wouldn’t make him wait too long for their reunion in America. Mari gave him a soft punch in the shoulder before heading back into the house. She was clearly still heated. Yuuri tried to not let it worry him — she must’ve been holding on to the feelings she expressed on his first night back, for a while. He scooped Vicchan up for one good, long cuddle, and left before he could change his mind again and take his pet with him. After all, he’d be seeing Vicchan again very soon. Every last cuddly inch of him would be safe with Yuuri in America. His family would be safe with him. But until then, he needed to get going. Everything would reset to normal since he failed to sway Fujiwara but at least he’d have one last thing to worry about with his family within arm’s reach. There were so many things he needed to figure out: where Phichit was, how he was going to get out of his debt to Fujiwara to put his sister at ease, and how he was going to balance answering those questions on top of all of his normal responsibilities… The “normal” he was accustomed to would have to change. It was too early for Yuuri to try to figure out how. It was all he could do to get back to the states in one piece. Again, he passed through the motions of travel in a blur as he sank into his thoughts. He was no stranger to traveling overseas though, as he often did it for “work” and by now, the process was almost subconscious. He rarely faced any obstacles (due in part to some manipulation by Fujiwara who often had operatives transport sensitive items around the world) so, he tended to zone out. But this time, he felt a bit anxious, like he was doing something wrong. He looked around at all the throngs of people flitting between souvenir shops, restaurants and sky stores with a mounting sense of unease. He tried to think because maybe he actually had forgotten about something strange he was doing; after a mental check, he decided that no, he was not transporting gem, artifact, nor weapon nor sensitive item, but the skin on the back of his neck still prickled as if he were under some scrutiny that he should very well be hiding from.
Oh.
He was being followed. He forgot what it felt like because he wasn’t Red Specter right now, just Yuuri, and it was broad daylight. He took a deep breath before he could start panicking. If he was being followed, he shouldn’t get on a plane… he didn’t know what his pursuer wanted and he didn’t want anyone to get hurt because of him. He needed to isolate himself, get this person alone so that they could confront the inevitable somewhere safe… even if it meant missing his flight back home. As he made a leisurely detour into a souvenir shop, he wondered who it was. He wondered if he could take them.