Chapter Text
It was just an ordinary day for Bacon. Another boring, ordinary day.
Bacon was waking up for his stupid hero job. He grumbled as he turned off his alarm, which was somehow louder every morning, like it was personally trying to kill him. He sat up. It was cold. A little too cold for normal.
"Whatever," he muttered, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.
He got up. A small wave of nausea hit him and his vision blacked out for half a second.
"Okay... odd..." he thought. His nose twitched. A smell drifted through the apartment. Bacon.
Hmm... Jaron must be making—wait a damn minute.
He stomped out of his room and into the kitchen.
"Jaron, are you seriously cooking the bacon I BOUGHT?" His voice was sharp, angrier than he meant it to be.
Jaron froze, spatula in hand.
"No..." he said,
bacon hearing a very guilty gulp after jaron had said that.
"One day I'm gonna kill you. Mark my words," Bacon said, totally joking. Probably.
"Hey, hey, stop threatening Jaron, Bacon. So not cool, dude!" Planet piped up.
"God, I hate both of you so much," Bacon exclaimed.
"You could never hate us," Jaron said, grinning. "We pay for your Chinese food at midnight."
Bacon groaned. He didn't have a comeback for that one.
"Whatever, man. Not my fault I'm not paid much as a new hero," he sighed, dragging a chair out.
"Which is why we told you to become a villain," Jaron said.
"Idiot," Planet added, like punctuation.
Bacon glared at him. "You're lucky I don't report you to HQ."
Planet smirked. "You won't. You'd miss me too much."
Bacon lunged across the table, tackling him. Planet shrieked like a child while Jaron scrambled to save the bacon from burning.
Bacon made his way to the subway, hood pulled low over his head. Even though he was a new hero, barely known, barely noticed, he was still paranoid.
Possibly because of a certain someone.
But that didn't matter. Or at least, that's what he kept telling himself.
He hopped on the train. Ten minutes until work. Ten minutes until he had to be a "professional." Hopefully he wouldn't be late, considering he'd started the morning by assaulting Planet (playfully. Mostly). It ended with a bruise for him, a black eye for Planet, and bacon burnt on the stove. But hey, Planet started it.
He sighed. He'd have to stop by the grocery store after, restock on bacon, maybe grab some sweets. He hadn't treated himself in a while. He deserved a pastry. Probably.
The train screeched to a halt, jarring him out of his thoughts. His hand gripped the metal bar too tightly. Out of the corner of his eye, something flickered—a flash of orange fabric.
His stomach dropped.
He almost looked. Almost.
But he forced himself forward, stepping off the train like nothing happened.
Alley after alley. Park after park. He zigzagged his way across the city like he always did, "losing anyone who might be following him," the higher ups made that a needed rule. Most heroes thought it was unnecessary. Bacon didn't.
Finally, the hero headquarters came into view.
He was already in his costume.He had found a small abandoned studio apartment, to change into his costume. He had cleaned it out himself. It doubled as a hideout for him, Planet, and Jaron. If anyone found it, he'd be screwed.
His costume was boring compared to more known heroes. A dusty orange hoodie, brown camouflage cargos. A brown plaid scarf. Other heroes had armor, or shiny costumes custom made. But Bacon thought that was too much of a risk. Darker colors were better. As well as wearing less, it made it easier to maneuver around,
For his face, he had black ski goggles and a black gas mask. Simple he knows.
If he ever quit being a hero, he'd steal it.
Inside, he took the elevator to the third floor. Patrol duty today. He sighed, half out of relief, half out of annoyance. At least it wasn't paperwork.
He walked into the weapon room, grabbed a replacement dagger. His old one was missing.
Blame Planet. It was always Planet.
Bacon sat crouched on the edge of the rooftop.
Patrol was way better than paper work, it was calm today.
He had his Scarf tugged up against his mask, hoping to create some warmth, it was a bit chilly. It was autumn to be fair. Patrol duty. Five hours of staring at nothing, then lunch, then four more hours of staring at nothing.
He swung his legs idly, eyes scanning the streets below. Nothing out of the ordinary, just people walking, cars honking, life going on without him. Lucky bastards.
A crunch.
Bacon froze. Rooftops don't crunch by themselves. Not unless you're about to have a very bad day.
Slowly, he turned his head. Another crunch. He knew there were a bunch of leaves on the rooftop, but a crunch meant someone.
His pulse quickened.
And then.. he saw them.
A group, fanning out across the roof like wolves circling prey.
His stomach dropped.
"Hmm," one of them drawled. "What do we have here?"
Bacon said nothing. Just stared. He counted them quickly, his mind racing. Kab. Hannah. And oh, fuck... Clown. Flame. Mane.
His throat went dry. These weren't rookies. These were names whispered in training, against civilians. Names that made the pros grit their teeth. And here he was—third patrol in—face to face with them.
"Come on," one of them said. "Tell us your name. Hero, villain, or vigilante?"
Bacon's heart hammered. Say 'hero,' and they'd tear him apart. Say 'villain,' and they'd laugh at the lie. Vigilante... maybe. Maybe they'd buy it. Maybe.
"Holy shit, is he mute?" Mane snapped, tail flicking behind him clearly unpatient.
Bacon swallowed. His mouth worked before his brain caught up.
"No."
Fuck. Fuck. Why did I say that?
"So you can talk." Clown's painted grin stretched wider. "Good. We hate the quiet ones."
"Well? Answer the question." Kab flexed her fingers, her stance shifting like she was itching to strike.
Bacon's mind screamed. Run. RUN.
"I don't have time for this," he muttered, and vanished, teleporting ten feet down into the alley below. His knees buckled on impact, nausea clawing at him, his vision slowly going black but he stayed quiet. Stayed still.
Above him, the villains erupted.
"What the fuck was that?" Mane snarled.
Kab burst out laughing. "Oh my god. Did you see that? He wasn't even impressed by us!" She doubled over, wheezing.
"Yeah, yeah, shut up, Kab," Mane snapped, bristling.
"Wow, Mane. Did the newbie hurt your feelings?" Flame smirked.
"You shut the fuck up too!" Mane roared. "Next time I see him, I'll show him what to be scared of."
Bacon hid in the alley behind a dumpster, lungs tight, every muscle trembling. He wanted to laugh. He wanted to throw up.
Not impressed? He was terrified. Completely, utterly terrified.
Quietly, he slipped away, ducking through the backs of shops and apartment blocks, putting as much distance as possible between himself and the rooftop of nightmares.
And even as the city lights blurred past him, he couldn't shake it—
the feeling that they had let him go on purpose.
Bacon's first instinct was to head straight home. Straight to Planet and Jaron. To get in their apartment, and just pretend like none of it happened
But his feet didn't turn toward the apartment. They carried him toward HQ instead.
Every step felt like walking through wet cement. His mind spun through the names like a broken record—Kab. Hannah. Clown. Flame. Mane.
Too big. Too dangerous. HQ had to know.
He reached the glowing building, its glass front buzzing faintly under the streetlights. His hand hovered at the door.
Just one push. Just tell them. It was the right thing to do.
His reflection in the glass looked back at him—hood pulled low, scarf hiding his jaw, goggles dark. He looked like some nobody kid trying to play hero.
What if they didn't believe him? What if they thought he was exaggerating? Or worse—what if those villains had let him live on purpose, to feed HQ a message?
What if he told HQ and the villains got mad?
Went after him for saying something?
His throat tightened.
If he said their names out loud, there'd be no undoing it. The whole city would know, and he'd be the idiot rookie who sounded the alarm.
Bacon took one shaky step back. Then another. And before he realized it, he was walking away, hood pulled tighter, forcing his breathing to even out.
Home. He needed to be home. With Planet and Jaron. They'd believe him. They had to.
The HQ lights faded behind him as he slipped into the night, his chest heavy with guilt.
He'd chosen wrong—he knew it. But it was too late now.
He quickly started to run towards a park. It was empty towards this time, it was a shortcut. Sure longer than the subway. But anything near people was a call for trouble.
The more he ran teh closer he got.
Then he saw their apartment. He went through the side fire stairs on the left side of the building, slipping in through a window.
Hopefully no one followed. Hopefully no one saw.
He shut the window quickly, hands trembling, breath uneven. The familiar warmth of home should've calmed him—but it didn't.
Noise came from Jaron's room. Bacon made his way over, knocking with a shaky hand.
"Come in!"
He opened the door.
"Jaron... where's, uh... Planet?" His voice cracked.
"On patrol," Jaron answered without looking up.
Bacon swallowed. "Tell him to get home. Please."
Jaron's brow furrowed. He had the earpiece in—the one linked to both Bacon and Planet, his way of warning them if something went wrong. With his network of hacked security feeds, he was their eyes. Their safety net.
But when he turned in his chair, his smirk dropped. Bacon was shaking. Pale. His scarf was still wrapped tight, like he hadn't remembered to take it off.
"Hey..." Jaron stood, voice softer. "What happened?"
Bacon's chest heaved. He tried to speak, but the words got stuck, throat tight, eyes burning.
"I—"
Nothing. Just a shaky breath.
Jaron stepped closer, not pushing, not pressing. "It's okay," he said firmly. "Sit down. I'll get Planet back. Don't worry."
Jaron tapped his earpiece, linking into Planet's channel.
"Planet? Planet, you there?"
Static, then a quiet voice came through. "Yeah? What's up?"
"Hey, uh... get home. Like, now. It's important, promise."
A pause. "...Important how?"
Jaron's eyes flicked to Bacon, who sat hunched in the corner of the room, hands twisted in his scarf, not saying a word.
"Just—trust me."
"...Okay. I'll be there. Gimme ten."
The line went dead.
Jaron walked towards Bacon, sitting down beside him. He hesitated, then pulled him into a hug. Hopefully it was enough to reassure him, even just a little.
Bacon quickly hugged back, clinging to him like he might disappear if he let go.
They stayed like that until the faint sound of a window sliding open broke the silence.
"Jaron? Where are you?" Planet's voice called, muffled at first, then louder as footsteps padded across the apartment.
"My room, Planet."
Planet appeared in the doorway, but the moment his eyes landed on Bacon, his joking tone dropped.
"What happened?" he asked immediately, sharp and serious.
Jaron shook his head. "I'm not sure. He just came back. Scared."
Planet stepped closer, crouching down in front of Bacon.
"Hey." His voice softened. "Talk to me. What's wrong?"
Bacon stayed quiet. His throat burned with the words he wanted to say, but they wouldn't come. He didn't want to admit it. Didn't want to seem weak. His pride screamed at him to stay silent.
But these were his brothers. His family. If anyone could know, it was them.
Planet reached out, tugging lightly at Bacon's scarf like he always did when he was being stubborn. "Come on, Bacon. You don't get to bottle it up. Not with us."
Jaron added gently, "You don't have to be scared alone, you know."
Bacon's jaw clenched. He didn't look at either of them, just stared at the floorboards like they might swallow him whole. His hands twisted the edge of his scarf.
"I'm fine," he muttered.
"Bullshit," Planet shot back immediately. His tone wasn't harsh, but it wasn't letting him off either. "You look like you've seen a ghost. Or ten."
Bacon flinched, his throat tightening. For a moment, he stayed stubbornly silent. But the pressure of both their eyes on him, the concern, the way Jaron hadn't let go of him.
It cracked something.
He swallowed hard, voice low.
"They... they were on the roof."
Planet frowned. "Who?"
Bacon's chest rose and fell too fast. He forced himself to say the names, each one tasting like poison.
"Kab. Hannah. Clown. Flame. Mane."
The room froze.
Jaron's face was drained of color. Planet's mouth dropped open, then snapped shut with a sharp curse.
"You're kidding," Planet said, his voice low, dangerous.
Bacon shook his head quickly. "No. They—" His words faltered. He rubbed a hand over his mask like he wanted to claw the memory away. "They surrounded me. Like it was a game. And then they just... let me go."
Silence.
Jaron finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "That doesn't make sense. They don't let people go."
Planet stood, pacing, fists clenched tight. "Fuck. This is bad. This is really, really bad."
Bacon hunched forward, burying his face in Jaron's sweater. His voice was muffled, but they heard the shake in it.
"They were toying with me. Like I was nothing. I thought I was gonna die."
Jaron squeezed him firmly, grounding him. "You didn't. You made it back. That's what matters."
Planet stopped pacing long enough to kneel down again, his eyes steady, burning. "If they let you go... it means they want something. From you."
Bacon finally looked up, his eyes wide, raw.
That was the thought that had been haunting him ever since he hit the ground.
They didn't let him go out of mercy.
They let him go because this wasn't over.