Chapter Text
Department of Super Powered Individuals - Internal Files
WARNING: Confidential Information
Case File No. 112573 - "Cuteguy"
Status: Level Four Villain
Alias: Cuteguy
Civilian Name: Unknown
Species: Avian Hybrid (Species of Hybrid Unknown)
Power/s: Air Manipulation [Flight, Enhanced Senses—Avian Typical]
History: Unknown
Distinctive Features: Large wings with gradient from pink to red to maroon to black. Smaller set of wings located behind ears. Short sandy blond hair. Yellow eyes. Average height.
Notes: While Cuteguy may appear to be a silly trickster, he is more powerful than first glance. While he often causes little damage, preferring to show off rather than destroy, he is still capable of deadly things if provoked. Despite this, he occasionally appears to be trying to reduce civilian casualties as much as possible, but adamantly denies if asked. Cuteguy appears to have based his name and identity off of Hero Hotguy (see case file no. 107593), and is frequently reported to be obsessed with the Hero. Hotguy is often sent to deal with (as Cuteguy is known to have destructive and murderous tantrums if Hotguy is not involved with his attempted capture), but other heroes may be deployed if necessary.
Final rating: Dangerous. Approach with caution.
Grian was having what he considered to be a pretty good day—right up until he got thrown into the side of a building.
He winced as his head cracked against the brick wall, groaning in pain as he struggled to get up. The person who had thrown him leapt towards him, and landed on the concrete roof with a thump, grinning as his tall figure blocked out the light.
"Something wrong, Cuteguy?" the hero asked tauntingly, orange and blue visor flashing in the light. Grian shuffled slightly, trying to regain his composure as he ignored the pain in his head and blinked his vision back to focus.
Silhouetted against the sunlight, stood a tall, grinning, and very annoying figure Grian (unfortunately) knew quite well. One of the city's most famous and well-known superheroes, recognised and loved throughout the city, the powerful Hotguy.
Many believed he had chosen the name as a gag, a stupid joke he had picked himself, as the Department of Supers that owned and regulated the city's heroes were very unlikely to assign a hero such a ridiculous name. But Hotguy was able to choose for himself because they needed him as an official hero, and were willing to pull a few strings if they meant he was secured as a city hero, rather than something else outside of their control.
In the many years since that had first happened, Hotguy had gone from a funny joke to a well-respected and trusted authority figure. He was one of the most popular heroes, his classic orange, blue and black colour scheme plastered on posters and photos across the city. He was loved, loyal, and an object of affection everywhere.
He was also Grian's mortal nemesis.
"No, nothing wrong," Grian said, taking a moment to grunt and shuffle himself off from the wall slightly. He tensed up to get away the moment Hotguy stepped too close, shifting so he was in the perfect crouching position to get away. But he made a noise of pain and pretended to look like he was struggling to get up.
Hotguy smiled, fooled by the trick, and took another step forward.
The moment he got too close, Grian pushed off against the wall. He shoved past Hotguy, taking the element of surprise, and dove off the roof. He caught himself mid-fall, and flew up high, turning to grin mockingly at Hotguy from above, making use of his wings that helped significantly in battles like these. His large wings, feathers with a gradient from pink, red and maroon to black, stretched out behind him and kept him in the air. The avian villain very maturely stuck a tongue out at the hero, and grinned at the dumb outraged gasp the other produced.
"I'm actually perfectly well, thanks," Grian said with an easy wink, before darting to the side in the air just as an arrow shot by Hotguy flew past right where he had been hovering. Hotguy's main source of attack was his trusty bow. It looked unassuming and average, but the hero was scarily good at aiming. Enough that he had one of the highest arrest success rates across the city. Hotguy, being a hero, very rarely aimed to kill, but could incapacitate an enemy while running full speed and with half vision. His marks never missed once he got a good shot.
But unfortunately for the hero, Cuteguy was both speedy, avian, and psychotic enough to have spent months meticulously learning his fighting style. Add a bit of a flair for the dramatics, and you received a villain who laughed as he acrobatically dodged hits from the greatest shot in the city.
Grian flipped mid-air, pausing in place to give Hotguy more time to aim his bow once more. The villain pouted, "Aw, did the big strong hero miss? That's such a shame."
"Like you can talk, Cuteguy," the hero spat, before releasing the arrow once more. Grian again managed to dodge out of the way, gracefully spinning through the air and curving his wings in such an artful way that he managed to completely avoid the arrow which should have left him falling through the air. As he did so, he noticed people on the ground below them (naturally) screaming and running in terror, but a few people in safe enough positions were brave enough to take out their phones and start recording their fight. It made him grin smugly even with the Department drone whizzing along recording them as well. The drone would have better footage quality, but Grian loved the attention. Cuteguy was infamous for his dramatic and silly personality even while in battle with stoic opponents, which drew him into the attention of the public eye.
"Oh, I think I'm going to keep talking," Grian smirked, tossing his head back dramatically as he landed on a balcony for a moment to lean on in an act of confidence, dancing with danger in order to show off. "I rather do like the sound of my own voice, actually. It's surprising, I know. I mean, who, Cuteguy? He never says anything! It's not like he ever talks!"
Grian flashed the hero a pathetic grin, both of them knowing full well he was lying through his teeth. The infamous villain Cuteguy was known for being overly dramatic, extremely over-the-top, strangely obsessed with his hero counterpart, more than slightly insane, and chatty.
So, so chatty.
It was around two years ago, when Hotguy took a large spike in popularity with his new ruthless efficiency and applauding reaction to his situation, that Cuteguy entered the hero and villain world with a bang. Quite literally—his villain debut involved lots of bombs, a whole lot of fire and chaos, a heap of paperwork and destruction, and a fair few low-level heroes in a panic trying to clean it all up. Not many villains chose to enter in such a dramatic, spectacular way—especially while calling out one specific hero—but that was just how Cuteguy rolled. Most villains were dark and brooding, or cackling with madness, or held a single lone smile as they brought a building to the ground. But he was bright, cheerful, delusional, overexcited, dramatic, always talking, never pausing, every single second always being loud and attention seeking and annoying.
He took great pride in knowing how annoying he was to the Department, the heroes, and everyone in general.
Unfortunately, when he had first started out, he had been classified as a Level Two Villain, or a Criminal. He had skipped right past being a Level One Nuisance, because he had caused more than minor damage, but it was still low enough that he wouldn't get strong heroes like Hotguy to come and deal with him.
So Grian had to get creative.
By stealing, threatening, kidnapping, blowing up some things and causing general chaos for a while, he had managed to eventually be bumped up to a Level Three Hazard, which had meant he had gotten high enough in the ranks he started to get serious media coverage and attention from the heroes—which also meant Hotguy was sent to deal with him.
Then, the rest was history.
Even after somewhere near two years and Grian officially becoming a Level Four Villain, not a single soul in the world knew why exactly Cuteguy was obsessed with Hotguy. The villain's entire everything was based off his nemesis, from his clearly-parodied costume to his name to his very identity as a villain. Listening to people discussing it in fear sent pleasant chills down his spine—many questioned whether he had some ultimate plan to kill the beloved hero. Really, he just wanted to have fun with a good looking guy, but they didn't need to know that. (They also didn't need to know his actual reason, his real, ulterior motive—but not a soul on the planet knew other than him, and he could be serious when he wanted to be.) Many people had theorised, but nobody knew, and Grian intended to keep it that way.
People used to think of him as a joke, a prankster, an annoying trickster who was ultimately harmless. It was hard to blame them for thinking that; his dramatic tendencies and over-the-top habits of leaning well into the cartoon villain role made it difficult to think of the grinning avian as anything more than a prankster.
But every once in a while, he would get bored, or not have enough attention on him, or would throw a tantrum about Hotguy being away or wanted to cause more chaos than usual. Then news reports would flood the papers, headlines full of massacres and tragedies and burnt down buildings and civilian casualties.
Then people would remember their fear, remember the reasons they panicked in the first place, and would cower in fear and beautiful terror. Watching the light leave someone's eyes as one of the most underestimated yet powerful villains walked towards them with a slow, easy confidence, was one of the best feelings in the world. It was the sort of thing that gave strength to Cuteguy as a villain. The terror, the fear, watching their fire dim in horror as he feasted on the glorious feeling of being feared, enjoying every morsel of pain they gave him, grinning wickedly as they shook and cowered in front of him. It was beautiful.
Hmm. He sounded a little psychotic. It was times when he thought about that stuff that he kind of understood where the people who called him crazy were coming from.
Nevertheless, Cuteguy rarely showed that side of himself, preferring to be his rambunctious, flamboyant, and dramatic self. Really, he was theatre kid energy mixed with some form of mild psychosis and stirred heavily with a good heap of delusion. Always dramatic, over-the-top, and what made people most uncomfortable around him—he never got scared.
No matter what happened, how many buildings he was thrown into, how many bones he broke, how many times he was beaten and attacked and pushed to far past the brink, he always slowly lifted his head with the same psychotic smile, wiping the blood away as he stood up yet again.
That was what truly made people scared. Not the threats, not the scares, not the jokes laced with poison. It was the fact that in front of them stood a man so powerful, so utterly uncaring that he could be beaten to a pulp, defeated to oblivion, and he would simply groan and stand up with a bloody smile, cracking his knuckles with a taunt while he lifted his weapon once more. That was what they feared. The way he could almost die but would continue to laugh it off, joke about it, grin maniacally as he teased and made fun.
That was one of the things about him that people truly had to fear. In the moment, it seemed fun and annoying, but then memories would hit of news stories about the villain killing mercilessly, clips of him laughing as a building crumbled, eye-witness accounts of a ruthless cold-blooded killer wearing a smile like a mask.
Weak heroes flinched at his teasing and jokes, knowing the true threat behind them, and even higher-up heroes found it difficult to stomach the way he acted so comfortable around them, so nonchalant and personal, getting up in their faces but darting away before they could touch him. He seemed dramatic and harmless, but he was powerful, intelligent, strong. His weaknesses were unheard of. Nobody could do anything to faze him.
Except, infuriatingly, Hotguy himself.
The hero had figured out one specific way to break through Cuteguy's walls, which only worked for him, but it was unfortunately extremely embarrassing for the villain.
Hotguy grinned and took a few short leaps forward, enough so that he was on an adjacent balcony from Cuteguy only a few metres away. The villain didn't immediately leap away, as Hotguy wasn't aiming his bow, so he was unfortunately fully subjected to the hero's attack.
Hotguy leaned forward, enough that it gave Grian time to focus fully on his face. His eyes and a large part of his face was covered by his blue and orange visor, in order to obscure his identity. The rest of the face Grian could see was quite scarred, his face littered with evidence of past battles, with lips often pulled into a smile that dropped to a scowl when Cuteguy was around, and an adorable annoyance that dominated his expression whenever the villain was up to his usual antics.
He was also hot. But like, objectively. It was literally in the name.
As such, Grian was slightly taken aback yet curious as Hotguy leaned towards him, so against some of his better instincts, he listened to whatever his nemesis had to say.
"You know, you really do love to talk," the hero started slowly, carefully making sure the villain's attention was on him. Hotguy looked at him while he said it, before his gaze very obviously dropped lower. "But," he continued, voice lowering to a husky whisper as a charming smile made its way across his face and he said in a low, seductive voice, "I bet I can get you to make other noises, too."
God. Dammit.
All the breath rushed out of his body as the villain felt himself turn bright red. Every conscious thought was extinguished, there was a ringing in his ears, and he couldn't focus on anything except the smugly grinning face of the handsome hero in front of him.
Vaguely, somewhere in the currently murky depths of his brain, he was able to come up with a single, weak thought. Screw you, Hotguy.
His one weakness. If you could even call it a weakness. One flirtatious comment from Hotguy, and one of the most feared villains in the city was reduced to a flustered, blubbering mess.
It didn't make any sense. Cuteguy himself regularly flirted with other heroes to make them uncomfortable, and everything they said just bounced off of him like rubber. Anything else Hotguy could have possibly said would have just made Cuteguy grin more as he knew his taunts were affecting the hero. He was the one who made people uncomfortable, who got all up in their personal space to breath down the back of their neck and remain unaffected through whatever weaponised words they threw at him.
But then Hotguy would say something vaguely flirty, or seductive, and Grian's brain would just power off entirely. His logical side packed up shop, his coherent thoughts left him stranded, his usual witty comments would be reduced to stammering, and his face would flush and his body would freeze and Hotguy would grin at the reaction and he would be so annoyed.
Cuteguy couldn't say anything for a moment, freezing in place as his brain buffered and his face turned scarlet while his mouth opened and shut repeatedly in shock. God, why did Hotguy do this to him?
The hero grinned widely, and said, "Wow, that shut you up fast for someone who loves to talk so much. Thinking of taking me up on my offer?"
Grian wanted to scream. Or, better yet, he wanted to punch him.
Hotguy's smile widened, like he could see the thoughts playing out on the villain's face. "I've got to say, your constant jabbering was getting pretty annoying," the hero said idly, clearly enjoying whatever expression was on Grian's face while the villain tried to regain his composure. Having a brand built entirely on confidence really sucked when you got flustered by your worst enemy openly flirting with you.
"If you had kept going for much longer, I was thinking of shutting you up in... a different way."
Grian had to physically stop himself from letting his gaze drop to the hero's lips. God, he needed to get a grip.
"Shut up, Hotguy," he finally managed to splutter, and while it was neither as profound or as well-thought out as he'd liked, it would have to do, because he was standing too still and too close to someone who had the power to easily arrest him. With that pathetic attempt of a comeback, he backflipped off the balcony and flew high into the air, fast, going higher and higher until Hotguy was a speck below him as he tried to catch his breath. God, that was a disaster.
Grian took a moment to calm himself, regaining his composure and making sure he was okay. He couldn't stay in the air forever, unfortunately. Hotguy had that infuriating effect on him. Luckily, he was able to calm himself in a few moments before he flew back down to assess the situation.
Much to his dismay, two more heroes had appeared in his absence. Grian belatedly realised that Hotguy must have been attempting to distract him and keep him in place while the others arrived. His cheeks grew pink again as he hated the fact the hero's plan had worked.
"Aw, why do you get to bring friends? Whenever one of my buddies tags along, you get all panicky and shouty and evacuate the entire block," Grian complained, re-entering with a flourish and a dramatic statement as was typical of him.
He pretended to roll his eyes in annoyance, but he really glanced down to look at who else he was dealing with.
Two new heroes he recognised had entered the fray, Shifter and Poltergeist. The former a constantly-changing shape shifter, and the latter a leopard hybrid with the ability to turn invisible. Both heroes were known to focus more on distraction and sneaking up on an enemy. Grian immediately clocked that fact, and it took less than a second to realise that whomever had deployed the heroes hoped Grian would be distracted by Hotguy and let the other two sneak up on him.
Grian pouted, a plan already formulating in his mind, as he did a little spin and said, "Why did you have to ruin it? We were having so much fun with just the two of us."
"And causing massive property damage," Shifter added. Grian shrugged and said, "Occupational hazard. You can't be a villain without accidentally smashing a couple of houses while trying to stab your nemesis. You know how it goes."
Hotguy aimed another arrow at him while he was distracted, and Grian barely managed to dodge. "Aw, do you want me to pay attention to you? That's so sweet, hun," he smiled, voice dripping with sarcasm. He hid his panic at almost getting hit by loading his voice with condescension. Grian landed on top of a building for a moment to think.
"Wait, hang on," he paused, holding a hand up to stop Shifter from doing whatever she was about to do. She paused for a minute, then frowned as she seemed to realise she was following orders from a villain, but Grian ignored her.
He waited for a moment, listening hard, before grabbing his weapon (a sparkly pink sledgehammer) and swung it behind him with a fury, before quickly darting forward and grabbing something mid-air.
Poltergeist reappeared with a shout, coming back into vision as he stumbled from the shock of getting swung at. Grian had a death grip on the hero's wrist, and he was the only thing stopping Poltergeist from falling off the side of the building.
Grian tutted, and said, "Really? Trying to sneak up on me? Come on guys, I'm know I'm insane but I'm not that stupid. I know to pay attention when you sneaky ones get here."
"You won't get away with this, Cuteguy," Poltergeist snapped, looking pissed at being caught and gesturing to the destruction around them and the broken-into bank that had started the whole fight.
Grian grinned, feeling his face melt into an insane, delusional and psychotic smile as he slowly turned to Poltergeist, whose wrist was still trapped in the villain's hand. An urge took over him, something dark and cold and utterly villainous. It was one of those moments where his pleasantness faded.
"Actually," Grian smiled, enjoying the way the hero shook and his eyes widened in fear at the sudden drop in temperature, "I think I will."
With that, he let go of Poltergeist, dropping the hero off the edge of the building. Ignoring the gasps and screams of the other heroes as they tried to catch their friend, Grian sped towards the building where he had stashed the bag of cash he had dumped once it became clear he couldn't fight Hotguy one handed.
Throwing it over his shoulder, Grian took once last look at the sight below him. Shifter had run to catch her friend, and Hotguy stopped his running once he noticed Grian was getting away.
The hero's face was furious, and Grian grinned. He gave Hotguy one last silly salute, before running off the building and flying into the air, taking off through the sky until the battle was a distant memory below him.
*
Case File No. 107593 - "Hotguy"
Status: Level Four Hero
Alias: Hotguy
Civilian Name: Scar Goodtimes
Species: Human (Elf Ancestry)
Power/s: Fortune Manipulation [Minor Enhanced Senses—Elf Ancestry]
History: Has been a Hero for five years. Very loyal and has no history of disobeying orders. Has been known to bend the rules on occasion—more so before the famed "Battle of High Street" [see case report 284630, see "List of Large Battles", see "Deceased Heroes"], Hotguy used to be much more open and willing to work with a team. But after The Battle, [THE REST OF THIS REPORT IS CLASSIFIED. Only Level 8 Clearance and Above allowed access.]
Distinctive Features: Has many scars across face, body and limbs. Short dark brown hair. Green eyes. Slightly pointed ears. Above average height.
Notes: Hotguy is known across the city for being a loved and recognised hero. He is responsible and follows orders. Prefers to work alone. Many of the city's residents favour him, and have him as their main reason they respect the Hero System. His participation in government programs is shown to increase involvement by up to sixty percent. Very valuable and important Hero; it is vital he be kept comfortable and protected, ensure he has no reason to leave. Main enemy is Cuteguy (see case file no. 112573). He is a kind and loyal person. Hotguy is one of the most powerful, popular and useful Heroes.
Final Rating: Useful. Important member of the Heroes. Keep safe.
Scar sighed, and leaned back in his chair. Of course Cuteguy escaped—again. The villain was notorious for causing chaos and simply vanishing when he got bored. The hero's nemesis was infuriatingly good at his job, no matter how dumb he looked flying around in his white, black and pink suit. A vision came back to him of the annoying hero, of a cheeky smile on a familiar face, of a flash of yellow eyes piercing through a dark pink mask.
Thinking of Cuteguy's ridiculousness brought him another, more painful memory, of a different and younger powered man giving him a dumb, cocky grin as he smiled through a different identity-hiding mask. Cuteguy reminded Scar of him. Memories filtered through before he could stop them, shared laughter, fighting side by side, years of friendship, and quiet moments defending the city. Of a soft, kind voice often laced with sarcasm but truly genuine. Hey, boss. As always, thinking of his old friend brought a sharp pang to his chest, a stinging pain that still hadn't fully stopped even after years. Scar missed him.
"All good, Hotguy?" a female voice asked. Scar glanced up to see the face of his coworker, Shifter. Technically she was more of a friend than anything, but it was a little difficult to try and make friends with someone who never looked the same twice.
Scar sighed, and stretched, fully pushing all thoughts of his old partner away. He was gone, and he wasn't coming back. Scar didn't need to focus on him. "Yeah, I'm fine," he said, but he was still annoyed at Cuteguy's escape.
They were back at the Department of Super's headquarters, in the hero's apartments. Each hero had their own individual resting places, for when they needed to rest but had to remain in costume. Scar and the others were in the high common room where any of the heroes could hang out—as long as they were level three or above. It allowed the city's main heroes to congregate, strategise, and just hang out without truly being interrupted by less-trained individuals, who may not have had as much experience or nuance to know how heroes truly behaved. The Department thought it was a good idea as it "strengthened bonds and increased teamwork and efficiency", which was a fancy way of saying heroes worked better when they had free time to hang out together.
Not that any of them complained—being a hero was often gruelling work, and having people to talk to made a world of difference.
From his couch in the corner, Poltergeist complained, "Did he have to grab me so hard? My wrist is killing me, but it's not damaged enough for the healers. Also—dropping me off the side of a building is not okay, especially when I wasn't doing anything. If Shifter hadn't caught me, I would've been toast."
Scar said, "To be fair, you were sneaking up on him and planning to arrest him."
Poltergeist rolled his eyes, and said, "Cause it's my job. Obviously. But seriously, Shifter, thanks. You really saved me there, don't know what I'd do without you."
"Probably cry and wail about losing the love of your life," Shifter replied idly, tossing a curl of pink hair across from her face. Her pink hair was her favourite colour to have, and while she often changed everything else about her appearance on the regular, her hair colour generally stayed the same.
"Speaking about love and crushes," Poltergeist started, and flashed Scar an evil grin from across the room. "What did you say to Cuteguy? He had to actually distance himself from the fight for a minute to recover. He's a freaking psychopath who doesn't care about anything, so whatever you said must've really rattled him. So spill. What did you say?"
Scar shrugged. "I mean, nothing much. Weirdly enough, the only thing that makes him stop is whenever I flirt with him, because he gets all flustered and forgets what he's doing. I just made some vaguely flirtatious comments to get him to stop and stay while you guys arrived, and it worked. Honestly have no idea why that's the only thing that works, but it does, so I just… why are you guys looking at me like that?" he asked, glaring suspiciously at the way the both of them exchanged knowing looks.
"Well…" Poltergeist trailed off with an annoyingly knowing smirk, like the leopard hybrid knew some mysterious secret Scar didn't get to know. He didn't continue. However, Shifter went right for the kill.
"Cuteguy totally has a crush on you," she said, and he burst into a shocked coughing fit.
"I—you—what?" he spluttered in surprise, and she said, "Come on. You can't say you didn't know. It's so obvious."
"No he doesn't," Hotguy scoffed. Poltergeist raised an eyebrow. "Well then, why does he only get flustered when you flirt with him? Wait, let me rephrase—when you flirt with him? Honestly, if you don't see it, you're blind. Why else does he base his entire costume and name and identity on you? Everybody knows he's obsessed with you, him liking you is the most logical explanation."
"There's no way he likes me," Scar protested, feeling flush and uncomfortable. He'd grown used to Cuteguy's obsession with him over the years, but imagining the villain had some sort of crush on him was just… no. "First of all, in no world is that the most obvious explanation. And second, even if it was—since when has Cuteguy been logical? He's literally a psychopath. Besides—he's a villain. Why would he like a hero?"
Shifter scoffed, "You know as well as the rest of us the way heroes and villains act away from the public eye. A secret crush is the least of the things people get up to."
Scar shifted uncomfortably, and said, "I—no, he—can we just talk about something else?"
"Denial is a river in Egypt,"Shifter said as she examined her sparkling blue nails. "But whatever. Hey, what do you think? Should I change to gold, or keep it blue as is?"
Scar rolled his eyes, and said, "Does it matter? We all know you're going to change it in less than five minutes anyway. You can't go twenty minutes without shifting just a little."
She grabbed a pillow and threw it across the room at him. He dodged it easily, and they both knew neither of them could hit each other with an attack like that, being too trained to dodge away—unless Hotguy had his bow. Shifter sat up in her seat, and said, "I'll have you know that's just not true. I spend entire days as my civilian self not shifting at all. I'm perfectly capable of staying in one form. I just don't want to."
"You're beautiful either way," Poltergeist said, and she smiled at him. Scar looked between them and said, "You guys always act like that, but you've never actually confirmed if you're dating."
"Doesn't matter, it isn't related to our work," Shifter replied primly. "Also, none of your business."
"I think the lives of my friends and coworkers are my business," Scar tried to argue, but Poltergeist denied him, the flash of dyed green in his brown hair obvious as he shook his head. "Nice try, but we're not going to answer anything," the other hero said, and Scar sighed.
"Well then," he groaned, getting up from his chair with a sigh, "I might as well head off. I was meant to be off duty an hour ago, anyway, but then Cuteguy started making a mess. See you guys later."
"I'll see you at patrol on Thursday," Poltergeist said, and Scar nodded.
"See you then," he replied, and then he was off.
He hurried to his civilian home, not wanting to draw attention to where he was heading. He stopped at a public park bathroom just a block away from his house, ducking into a stall to get changed once he confirmed the park was empty. Most heroes usually got changed at the Department's designated changing rooms a block away from the headquarters, or further away from home, but neither of those options were feasible for Scar if he didn't have some sort of ride home.
Once he took off his costume and got changed back into civilian clothes, he felt the protective power on his legs vanish, and the familiar ache reappeared. He was extremely lucky to be a hero, and have access to the sort of technology and power to temporarily be capable of superhuman feats. Technology and superpowers (and government funds) combined could create wonderful things that could help people like Scar accomplish tasks that would normally be difficult or impossible. But when he didn't have his specially-customised boots on, that added power would disappear, and he would continue to live his life requiring support for basic activities.
Once he finished getting changed, Scar grabbed his cane from his bag—it was retractable, so he could carry it around with his bag of civilian clothes without drawing suspicion—and set off on the short walk home. He often picked this park to get changed at, so he would be close by to his house in case he was having a difficult day and struggled to walk.
Luckily, he was able to make the trip perfectly fine, and made it home without difficulty. He unlocked the door with slight struggle, but after jiggling the key with enough force, it finally worked, and he was able to enter his apartment.
Scar dumped the bag with his costume in the closet—he would have to put it away properly later, but for the moment, he just wanted to rest.
Two hours and a short nap later, Scar woke up with golden afternoon sunlight on his face, a little disoriented as he tried to find somewhere to check the time. His phone proclaimed it was a quarter to three, and it took a few moments of hazy thinking to remember his shift started soon.
He got dressed wearily, and was out the door in five minutes. Rarely did his hero shifts collide with the days he had his civilian job, but when they did it always took a bit more of a push to get himself out the door. Especially considering he had patrol later that night. He quietly cursed to himself at the thought. Hopefully the café would be quiet to make up for it.
It was only a few stops away by train, and Scar entered the café with a familiar tinkling of bells above him. The sound caused a face to pop out from a side room, and his boss Gem said, "Oh, hiya Scar! Keralis is just clocking out now. Feel free to head over."
He nodded his understanding, and walked towards the employee-only room, where he put his bag down and grabbed an apron. His coworker Keralis greeted him, saying, "Hello and bye. I have a bus to catch, so I should head off. Have a nice shift."
"Thank you," Scar replied, as the other man disappeared through the door. Gem walked in a minute later, saying, "Okay, I have some work to do, so I'll be in my office if you need me but I'd prefer if you didn't interrupt unless it was important. Skizz couldn't be here today, something about a schedule clash, so it should just be you in. Is that alright? It shouldn't be too busy, though, there aren't that many customers that come at this time. I'm sure you can handle it, and I'll be nearby if you really need me."
"Okay," Scar nodded. "I'll be alright. Thank you, though. I should be okay."
"Great," Gem said, and gave him a thumbs up. She vanished, and Scar got ready for a dull shift.
True to Gem's word, it was a slow day. Only three people showed up for most of his shift—one of the regular customers, an old man who spent ten agonising minutes trying to decide between blueberry and chocolate muffins even when he was repeatedly told they were out of blueberry; a tired mother towing along two screaming kids who only shut up once they were chewing on a croissant each, and a quiet mouse hybrid teenager who ordered about three too many cups of coffee before they were gone.
Scar got tired of standing on his feet about halfway through, so he sat on a chair just behind the counter, thinking he would be able to stand up in time to greet any customers that came in once he was warned by the bells. There he remained for a while, reading a classic book while occasionally checking on the coffee maker behind him.
After a long period of silence, the tinkling of bells drew his attention to the door. Scar stood up in a hurry, putting his book aside as he put on his best customer service smile for the person who walked through the door.
His eyes widened slightly at the sight of the person entering the shop. The man who entered was immediately intriguing, sandy blond hair partially covering his obsidian eyes, as his lean frame was outlined by a spectacular set of wings, majorly red with sections of yellow and blue. A smaller set hovered just behind his ears, and the avian looked around as he entered the shop. Scar wasn't great with knowing what specific type of hybrid somebody was, but he shifted through his rudimentary knowledge of birds and thought the colours and patterns on the wings were similar to a parrot. The man was also beautiful, and Scar found himself staring as the oddly familiar stranger made his way into the café.
The other man looked up, and Scar felt his breath catch in his throat as he looked into the avian's strangely compelling eyes. Once Scar met his dark gaze, it almost felt as though he couldn't look away.
"Hi," the other man smiled as he approached the counter. Scar blinked, trying to let his brain refresh, before his customer service instincts kicked in and he smiled back.
"Hi there, what can I get for you?" Scar asked automatically, ignoring the surprised thoughts in his brain in order to serve the weirdly familiar customer.
"Um, let me think…" the other man trailed off, looking at the menu. Scar had the strangest, deep and unshakeable feeling he had met him before, though he couldn't place where. The avian looked so familiar. Like someone he had once known.
"Would you like a suggestion?" Scar prompted after a minute of silence.
"Sure," the customer said. "What's something sweet you have?"
"Something sweet? Well, we have a lot of options, like over here on the menu…" Scar pointed to the blackboard above him, and started listing options off the top of his head.
The other man asked, "Could I get a large mochaccino with extra chocolate and cinnamon? And a chocolate croissant?" he added, looking at the glass case underneath them that held an assortment of different pastries.
"Of course," Scar said, and turned around to make the drink. He made it with practised movements, and while he enjoyed his job, he found it funny to think of the regular mental image of Hotguy, one of the city's most powerful superheroes, making coffee in a small café. Throughout the making of the drink, whenever he glanced up at the other man (slightly too often than was really necessary) he got hit with the unshakable feeling that he had met the other before. And had to force himself not to double-take at the beautiful avian.
When the customer requested if he could add some more chocolate syrup even after he added quite a bit more than necessary, Scar joked, "Not much of a sweet tooth, are you?"
The other man flashed a grin that beautifully lit up his face. "Could you tell?" he laughed, that lovely smile on his face. Scar got stuck looking at it for a moment, mesmerised by how it made his already warm face shine with a joyous glow. Then he snapped his eyes away, going back to making the drink and pretending the gentle flush on his cheeks was a result of the hot steam.
Once he finished, Scar paused before he handed over the drink and pastry. He grabbed the tongs again, and added a chocolate chip cookie to the bag with the croissant.
Scar handed over the bag and drink, and the customer grabbed it with a grateful smile. "Thanks," he started to say, before he looked in the bag and frowned. "Oh, um, I didn't order this," he said, holding up the cookie.
"I know," Scar said, grabbing a washcloth and wiping down the counter where some crumbs had fallen. "It's on the house," he smiled, looking up to see the avian looking slightly shocked.
"Oh, um… you don't have to do that," the other man stammered, surprised and trying to hand the cookie back. Scar shoved it back into his hands, saying, "Yeah, I didn't have to. But I wanted to, so I did. Enjoy the cookie, it's really no trouble. It's not often I encounter somebody actually enjoyable to be around."
"Oh, okay… well then, um, thanks," the customer smiled. "Thank you… Scar," he said, glancing at the server's name tag pinned to his apron.
"You're welcome…" Scar trailed off, realising he didn't know the other man's name.
"Grian," the avian said. "My name is Grian."
"Grian," Scar repeated, feeling the name on his tongue, then smiling slowly. "Well, you're welcome, Grian. Hope you enjoy your drink."
"I'm sure I will," Grian smiled, and sniffed it. "Smells good," he said, then took a sip and almost spit it out. Scar laughed, as Grian said, "Nope! Too hot, too hot!"
"You'll have to wait a minute for it to cool down," Scar advised, and Grian sighed. "I can't have anything," the avian wailed morosely.
Scar smiled, "It'll be fine. You just have to be a little patient."
Grian muttered complaints under his breath, and it made Scar laugh. As he did, it felt oddly familiar. There was something about Grian that was strangely like he had known the other man at some point. Even though he was certain he had never met the man before, it still felt like he had known him at some point, like he was a forgotten childhood friend. It was so strange.
"Have we met before?" Scar asked, frowning at the familiar face.
For half a second, Grian's expression looked something close to panicked, but then it was gone, and he looked slightly confused and uncertain. "Um… not that I can think of…" Grian trailed off, seeming to search through his memories.
"No, I don't think we've met," Grian said finally. He flashed a bit of a grin, and said, "I'm quite certain I'd remember such a pretty face as yours."
Scar flushed, and looked down to furiously wipe the counter, even though it was already spotless.
After a bit more talking and payment, Grian walked away. Scar expected him to leave the café, but instead, the avian sat down at one of the tables in the corner, pulled out a book, and peacefully started to read.
Scar spent the rest of his shift occasionally chatting with Grian, enjoying the company as he cleaned the shop and feeling strangely happy. The avian was kind, good company, and more caring to a stranger than Scar expected.
When his shift was over and the café was about to close, Grian thanked him with a smile and left the shop. As the bells tinkled a final time, Scar felt a warm feeling flutter in his chest as the doors closed and the familiar stranger walked away.