Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was the dead of night in their childhood home. Nothing irregular had occurred that day, everything was normal. They were a normal family. Mother. Father. Twins. Brother. A normal five-person family in Quesadilla island, speaking two languages, Portugues and English, or at least learning English. 

The eldest twin, Cellbit, born only five minutes before his sister, was passionate. His parents had raised him to be protective over those he loved, to care for his sister, to care for his brother. He was the eldest, he was the strongest, and he would protect them for the rest of his life. Cellbit was also incredibly intelligent, having helped his father solve many detective cases at the young age of twelve. 

The sole female, Bagi, born only five minutes after her brother, was kind. Her parents had raised her to be observant of others and their emotions. Whilst her brother was physically protective, she strived to help those struggling mentally. She had often been the source of Cellbit’s comfort. She was the only girl, she was the most emotionally intelligent, and she would help them for the rest of her life. Bagi was also incredibly talented, having gained many skills from watching her mother at the young age of twelve. 

The youngest boy, Tubbo, born four years after his siblings, was good. His parents had raised him to have morals and to never stray from them. He helped his siblings see right and wrong, helped them think clearly and differentiate feelings from fact from goodness. He was the youngest, he was most moral, and he would aid them for the rest of his life. Tubbo was also incredibly gifted, having practised many complicated subjects with his father late at night at the young age of eight. 

The three shared a room. Their family was normal, but they weren’t rich. They lived in the district of Favela, a poorer area of Quesadilla island, but they were happy, they were safe, or so they thought. 

Tubbo’s mind had plagued him with nightmares, causing him to kick and scream every time he dared to close his eyes. Bagi and Cellbit were concerned, neither of their parents had heard so they moved him onto Cellbit’s bed, wrapped him in blankets and told him stories, Bagi taking the lead as she was better at dealing with emotions. Cellbit just watched in awe, wishing he could be that talented with people. Tubbo listened, wiping his tears, sniffling but giggling as Bagi told him a joke and bopped him on the nose. His hands still shook, the monsters of his mind still in control, but Cellbit slowly fought them off, and Bagi slowly built more defences. 

Warmth filled his body, as Bagi wrapped her arms around him, ordering Cellbit to do the same. They were together, they were siblings, they were each other’s safe havens. They would be forever, or at least that's what they told themselves. Bagi squeezed tight, as if she were afraid of letting go, as if she were afraid of them disappearing. Cellbit held on weakly, as if he were afraid of holding on, as if he were afraid of them being cursed to be forever held within his arms. Tubbo cried, as if he were afraid of everything all at once, his siblings were there for him, they had promised to always be there for him, but would they always be there? How could they know? How could they promise that? 

Exhaustion claimed the children, as they all drifted off into the land of sleep, the rise and fall of their chests relaxing into a steady routine. They fell asleep in a tangled ball of limbs, with smiles on their faces, and tears down their cheeks. Nightmares didn’t hold their claim on Tubbo that night, allowing him to rest, possibly for the last time. 

Smoke filled the room, thick black smog covering the children like a blanket. Cellbit’s eyes fluttered, stinging soaring through his eyeballs. Immediately he shook Bagi and Tubbo, waking them in an instant. Tubbo coughed, fumes being sucked into his lungs, scarring the organs. Bright lights surrounded their house. Bagi grabbed both of their hands and pulled them to the floor, remembering the fire training she had received at school. Smoke rose, so stay close to the ground. Their chests hurt and their skin tingled with the excessive heat. Bagi began to scream different variations of her parents’ names and titles, Cellbit focused on traversing their way through their house, down the stairs, whilst being unable to peer through the thick gas. Tubbo cried again. Sirens rang out, ringing in their ears, as well as the sound of multiple crashes. Tubbo wasn’t sure what they were but he tried to help Cellbit, holding onto both him and Bagi. Coughing filled the room, the mixed sounds of the three filling the air, as the heavy pollution filled their lungs. They shook with fear, but they kept going. Eventually they reached the door, Cellbit stood up and grabbed the key that sat by the door, and unlocked it. They rushed outside, the bright colours of red and blue flashed across their vision, burning into their eyes. Blue. Red. Blue. Red. Blue. Red. 

“MÚMIA!” Bagi screamed. 

“PAPAI!” Cellbit yelled.

“MAMÃE? PAPAI? ONDE VOCÊ ESTÁ?” Tubbo screeched.

The whole of the Favela district appeared to be on fire; many emergency vehicles crowded the streets. Cellbit looked to the sky, the dark night was filled with beautiful stars, but up above there were two men fighting. Hero Cucurucho and Villain Cucurevil. Cucurucho sent fire balls in Cururevil’s direction, which the villain expertly dodged. The villain didn’t appear to be attacking the hero, instead only throwing objects in self-defence, using his powers of telekinesis to fly, watching Cucurucho standing on a building, the hero having no powers of flight himself. It was pathetic. The hero, somebody who was supposed to save the city was instead destroying it and the villain was simply protecting himself. Cellbit resonated with that. He was often labelled as dangerous or cruel at school but he simply protected himself or Bagi or Tubbo. 

Bagi looked to the sky, the dark night was filled with beautiful stars, but up above there were two men fighting. Hero Cucurucho and Villain Cucurevil. Fire balls filled the sky as Cucurucho attempted to save the city from Cucurevil. The villain was flying above, probably having had an evil plot foiled. Bagi was happy that Cucurucho was trying to help, they were all alive, so clearly he had done something, Cellbit and Tubbo were safe, she didn’t know where her parents were but it was fine. Cucurucho may be causing damage but he was only trying to help. Bagi resonated with that. She was often labelled as a hazard at school simply because she tried to help. 

Tubbo looked to the sky, the dark night was filled with beautiful stars, but up above there were two men fighting. Hero Cucurucho and Villain Cucurevil. Tubbo watched in horror as the two fought, Cucurucho sending useless fireballs in the villain’s direction and Cucurevil sending random objects flying towards Cucurucho, like cars. All the destruction was useless, it was hurtful and was ruining the lives of the civilians below, regardless of whether it was the hero or the villain’s intention. Tubbo didn’t resonate with it. He was often labelled as pathetic in school. He didn’t try to avoid bullies or protect anyone, he just watched, and whilst he did voice his concerns it wasn’t enough. 

Screaming was all that could be heard, the cries of many children, women and men were carried through the night. Suddenly a fireball crashed into the side of their house. Their parents' room collapsing in on itself. Bagi wailed. Tubbo gasped. Cellbit was stunned. The three children rushed over to their parents’ bodies, Bagi cradling her mother in her arms, begging for her to wake up. Cellbit rushed over to his father and began performing CPR, but it didn't work. Tubbo just stood there, staring. A hand fell over his shoulder, a firefighter.

“Me desculpe garoto,” the man frowned, “Precisamos evacuar todos vocês,” (I’m sorry kid, we need to evacuate you all)

Tubbo nodded. He stepped forwards to go fetch Bagi, to fetch Cellbit but a hand held him back. He was yanked backwards by the firefighter as he screamed and begged for his siblings, but it was too noisy for anyone to hear. Too noisy for Bagi to hear. Too noisy for Cellbit to hear. 

Bagi swallowed. Tears covering her face and her mother’s hair. She sobbed into her mum’s body, her corpse. She choked on her own tears. She squeezed her mother tightly, afraid to let go. Afraid of her disappearing. She could hear Cellbit beside her, and his futile attempt to resurrect their father. A hand was placed on her shoulder, a police officer.

“Me desculpe, garota” the man said, “É hora de deixar ir, precisamos tirar você daqui e levá-lo para um lugar seguro,” (I’m sorry kid, it's time to let go, we need to get you out of here and to a safe place,)

Bagi nodded. Her arms trembled as she attempted to let go, the officer helping her. She grabbed ahold of him instead. He carried her away. She looked at Cellbit, still attempting but she couldn’t spot Tubbo. She couldn’t see him. Where was he?

Cellbit was exhausted. CPR was difficult for an adult but he was twelve, he wouldn’t be able to keep it up for long, and deep down he knew there was no point, but he kept going, tears rolling down his face. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen. Twenty. Twenty-one. Twenty-two. Twenty-three. Twenty-four. Twenty- Five. Twenty-Six. Twenty-Seven. Twenty-Eight. Twenty-Nine. Thirty. Rescue breath. One. Two. Three. He was about to repeat the compressions but somebody pulled him back. He turned to see a paramedic. 

“Me desculpe garoto,” the woman smiled sullenly, “Ele está morto... venha comigo, vamos verificar seus ferimentos e ter certeza de que você está bem,” (I’m sorry kid, he's dead... come with me, let's check your injuries and make sure you're okay,)

Cellbit nodded. He turned out to grab Bagi, to grab Tubbo, but neither of them were there. Where had they gone? The paramedic held his hand as he was led to the back of an ambulance where at least ten other children were kept, but none included Tubbo or Bagi. He prayed to whatever god was listening, and prayed that they would be safe. 

That was the last time the three of them saw each other. This one event, destroyed their childhood home, killed their parents, separated them all and scarred them for life. It changed the way they all thought, Cellbit began blaming the heroes, the people who claimed to protect civilians but instead killed them. Bagi began blaming villains, the people who fought for no reason, endangering civilians and killing them. Tubbo began blaming the system of heroes and villains, it was pointless either they fought for the same thing in different ways or they fought for nothing at all. 

Cellbit sat in the back of an ambulance, beside ten other children. All of them were equally as scared as he was. He couldn’t see his siblings, hopefully they were being checked out in other ambulances and would meet him at a hospital or in an orphanage or something. This event had been catastrophic but hopefully there would be some order to reunite siblings or something. 

Cellbit watched as some of the paramedics used healing powers to stitch up the simpler wounds, making sure children didn’t die from infection. Not many adults had survived the attacks. His parents hadn’t. He had failed. But at least Bagi and Tubbo were still alive. Hopefully. He hadn’t received his powers yet, nor had Bagi, despite them both being twelve, most children received their powers between the ages of ten and fifteen, so he had time left before being labelled as powerless and honestly he hoped he would be. Most children were desperate for powers, but that meant being labelled by the government and being forced into certain careers, such as superhero, or doctor.

His hands shook, covered in his father’s blood. If he had been discovered by the police on a normal day he would have been arrested for murder. Prison didn’t actually sound too bad to him. It was a place with order and structure, it was a place with food and beds, it was a place for people like him. He was just a child though, and had no plans of committing a crime to land him in prison. 

“Com licença,” he coughed, “Você sabe onde meu irmão e minha irmã estão?” (Excuse me, do you know where my brother and sister are?)

“Todas as crianças estão sendo documentadas no hospital, podemos tentar encontrá-las lá,” (All the children are being documented at the hospital, we can try to find them there,)

“Qual hospital?” (Which hospital?)

“Hospital Saint Felps no bairro da Favela” (Saint Felps hospital in the Favela district)

“Obrigado,”

“Sem problemas, quais são os nomes deles?” (No problem, what are their names?)

“Bagi e Toby,”

Cellbit sat down, the metal of the ambulance hot against his back. His home was engulfed in flames. He had grown up in Favela, and yet it was burning to a crisp. The smoke singed his nostrils, but he wasn’t burnt so he couldn’t complain. All the other children in the ambulance he was in seemed to be okay, but he looked to another and a small boy about two years old had burn marks across his entire body. He flinched, if that were Toby- No. No. He didn’t think about that, instead he attempted to help the paramedics and the other children in his ambulance. The doors slammed as they slowly began to move, away from the fires, away from the ongoing conflict, away from his home. 

Bagi sat in the back of a police car, being handed a bottle of water, which she drank slowly. The officers were talking all around her but she couldn’t make out their words, perhaps they were speaking French, or Spanish, or English, or German, or Korean, or maybe they were just speaking Portuguese and she couldn’t understand. She was shaking. Her arms clutched the bottle, refusing to let go, refusing to ease the pressure. 

Some of the police had powers of force fields, she watched as they used them to protect other children from flying debris. She smiled in awe, hoping to one day help people like them, or perhaps like Cucurucho was trying to do. She hadn’t received her powers yet, nor had Cellbit, despite them both being twelve, most children received their powers between the ages of ten and fifteen, so she had time left before being labelled as powerless and she desperately hoped she wouldn’t be. She wanted to help others, whatever it took. 

Her eyes hurt, no more tears to cry. The salty residue had dried on her face, her lungs had no more oxygen to scream, and she had no more energy to fight. Her mother was dead. Her father was dead. Her siblings were missing. She was alone. But she would find them again. One day. 

“Com licença,” she asked, “Você pode me ajudar a encontrar meus irmãos?” (Excuse me, can you help me find my brothers?)

“Eles já devem ter sido transferidos para um hospital próximo, nós o levaremos a um para tentar encontrá-los,” (They should have already been transferred to a nearby hospital, we will take you to one to try to find them,)

“Qual hospital?”

“O hospital Lucky Ducks no bairro de Quesadilla,” (The Lucky Ducks hospital in the Quesadilla district)

“Obrigada,”

The door to the car slammed in her face. She turned around and strapped herself in. The car began to move forwards, slowly, every vehicle had decided to move at once, but she’d be able to see her brothers again soon and that was all that mattered. They had all survived and they would survive together.

Tubbo sat beside a fire truck. His vitals were being taken by a firefighter, but he was zoned out, not really focusing on their instructions. He had watched Cellbit as he was dragged into the back of an ambulance, and he had watched Bagi as she was guided to a police car. He had faith though, that they’d meet again soon. He felt a squeeze on his arm as the firefighter checked his blood pressure. 

Some of the firefighters had elemental powers of water and fire, manipulating the elements before Tubbo’s eyes. Neither him, nor Bagi, nor Cellbit had received their powers yet, if they would even ever get them, he wasn’t old enough for one anyway. Tubbo didn’t care whether he got a power or not, he had decided to help people regardless a long time ago, he wanted to be a good person, not somebody driven by greed. 

His lungs burnt, smoke having built up inside, but he had been given an oxygen mask. The oxygen tasted sweet as it filled his chest. He was scared. As any eight-year-old would be. But he had to be strong. He couldn’t cry, not until he had Bagi’s arms to rest in, and Cellbit’s watchful eye protecting him. 

“Com licença,” he asked, “Você sabe onde meu irmão e minha irmã estarão?” (Excuse me, do you know where my brother and sister will be?)

“Todo mundo vai para hospitais diferentes, mas nós vamos levá-lo a um e esperamos que pelo menos um deles esteja lá,” (Everyone goes to different hospitals, but we'll take you to one and hopefully at least one of them will be there,)

“Qual hospital?”

“O hospital Fobo no distrito de Fobo,” (The Fobo hospital in the Fobo district) 

“Obrigado,”

He however, was not immediately taken to a hospital like his siblings. The firefighters were tasked with ensuring nothing else burnt down whilst the battle continued. Tubbo watched the battle continue, staring at Cucurucho’s fireballs, and Cucurevil’s expert dodging of them. Suddenly one of the fireballs stopped midair. Cucurucho froze, but the fireball didn’t return in his direction. It was flung off to the side, towards Tubbo. He couldn’t move in time. He was stuck. Waiting to be hit for what felt like years but was realistically milliseconds. 

Heat. Surging, hot, heat hit the side on his face. Burns crawled their way across his face, scorching his once perfect skin. He clamped his eyes shut, but it was too late. He would later be determined medically blind in his right eye, and had lost mobility in his right arm, and whilst physical therapy will eventually help him, he had a long way to go first. Pain erupted from his body, as well as screams exploded from his chest, begging for the pain, for the agony to stop. Tears aggravated his burns more, he couldn’t cry, and yet he couldn’t stop, couldn’t see, and yet he couldn’t stop seeing the fireball rushing towards him, couldn’t feel and yet he couldn’t stop the pain.

When Cellbit arrived at the hospital he saw chaos. Many children were burnt, many adults were dying or dead, the hospital of Saint Felps was drowning in patients. He sat down and watched as it unfolded, staring at the door, hoping, praying that he’d see Bagi or Toby walk inside. 

Momentarily a nurse came up to him, checked him for burns, a concussion and other injuries but upon discovering that he had none, asked for his personal details so she could mark it down. She informed him that a social worker would be arriving soon to take all the healthy children to an orphanage. 

Each district on Quesadilla island had working sectors, living sectors, and recreational sectors. Favela had two working sectors, five living sectors, and one recreational sector, however only one of the living sectors was affected in the attack. Cellbit knew that he'd probably be taken to an orphanage in one of the other four living sectors. He stared at his hands, they hadn’t stopped shaking, and he had yet to wash off his father’s blood, none of the nurses or doctors had seemed to notice, otherwise he would have expected them to freak out. Other children like him, uninjured but alone, had noticed and had all decided to sit further away from him. 

Another round of people entered the hospital, a boy with pink hair, a boy with a blue hoodie, and some others, but no Toby, no Bagi. He turned his gaze to the floor, he had accepted that they probably weren’t going to be at this specific hospital, he just hoped that they were together, and they’d reunite in foster care so he’d see them later anyway. 

“Podemos sentar aqui?” the boy in the blue hoodie asked. (Can we sit here?) 

“Sim,” Cellbit nodded.

“Obrigado,” the pink-haired boy smiled.

When Bagi arrived at the hospital, she was incredibly disorientated. They mainly spoke English and Spanish, and she only spoke Portuguese. She could vaguely work out when the Hispanics spoke to her, but she couldn’t understand the anglophones spoke to her. She was scared, she didn’t have her big brother to protect her, nor her baby brother to hold tight. There weren’t many children at the hospital she was at, mainly adults, who all appeared to be desperately fighting for their lives whilst hooked up to machines. 

She watched as the nurses desperately rushed between patients. She listened as heart monitors stopped beeping. She smelt the tang of iron in blood as people bled out. She tasted the stale hospital water that every sick, coughing person had been instructed to drink. She felt the rubber of the gloves whilst the doctors checked her for injuries. 

She was in the Quesadilla district of Quesadilla island, the main part. She was in the richest part of the island, everyone here had money, in fact the hospital was probably the fanciest building that she had ever seen. 

“Hi sweetheart,” a woman approached her.

“Desculpe, não falo inglês,” Bagi mumbled. (Sorry, I don’t speak English)

“Oh, minhas desculpas,” the woman smiled, “Qual o seu nome?” (Oh, my apologies, what’s your name?)

“Bagi…”

“Onde estão seus pais?” (Where are your parents?)

“Morto…” (Dead…)

“Ahh… bem, tenho uma proposta para você,” (Ahh… well, I have a proposition for you,)

Tubbo woke up after three days, he was in a hospital bed, with a bandage covering his right eye and another covering his right arm. His whole body ached. He could hear nurses speaking in another language, perhaps Spanish? He wasn’t quite sure but it was all muffled especially since his ear was also covered by the bandage covering his eye. 

He smelt of burnt flesh. He didn’t like that smell. It made him feel sick. He was burnt flesh because two people decided that fighting in a civilian area was a good idea. Both the hero and the villain were to blame, it was ridiculous. Because of them Tubbo had lost Bagi, Cellbit and both his parents. 

Eventually one of the doctors appeared to check his injuries. She smiled at his non-covered eye and began to assess his burns and apply ointments and creams. Tubbo winced, his skin was hot and painful, but she was careful, kind. 

“Onde estão meus irmãos?” (Where are my siblings?)

“Ah, não tenho certeza,” the woman said sadly, “Eles provavelmente já estarão em um orfanato, você dormiu por três dias,” (Ah, I’m not sure, they'll probably be in an orphanage by now, you slept for three days,)

“Que?”

“Sim, você tem sido um menino sonolento,” (Yes, you've been a sleepy boy,) 

“Eu quero Cellbo, eu quero Bagi, eu quero minha mamãe, eu quero meu papai,” (I want Cellbo, I want Bagi, I want my mommy, I want my daddy,)

“Qual o seu nome?” (What’s your name?)

“Toby Lange,”

“Vou procurar seu nome em nosso sistema,” (I will look for your name in our system,)

“Obrigado,” he sniffled.

There it was, the event that split up the children, causing them all to begin exceedingly different lives. 

Cellbit, horrified by the actions of the heroes, the people supposed to protect those in danger, those without powers, began a life of villainy. He began that path with simple stealing from shops, or pickpocketing, aided by his newly discovered power. but it eventually led to murder. He was incarcerated in the juvenile section of Alcatraz. From there Cellbit’s life gradually decreased further into the path of villainy. When he was released from prison, he met a villain by the name of the CrowFather. The CrowFather was a hybrid of human and crow, he possessed wings and talons and was one of the most infamous villains of the time. Cellbit made a decision that day. He thought back to that day. The day he lost his entire family, the day where he witnessed the final fight between Cucurucho and Cucurevil. Cucurucho was still alive. Cucurevil was not. When the Crowfather offered Cellbit a place under his wing, to learn, to be protected. He couldn’t deny that offer. He had been on the streets since prison, and he had no intention to return, and the CrowFather was notorious for not getting caught. 

Bagi, awestricken by the actions of heroes, and their determination to protect those in danger, those without powers, began a heroic path. She began that path with an education, she was eventually adopted by a kind couple, two people who praised heroes and aided Bagi in life. She was sent to hero school, where she discovered her power. She trained for many gruesome years, debating giving up, but she never did. She had a woman called Elena as her mentor, and whilst Elena was never a hero, she was an inventor and made every hero’s suit. She specialised Bagi’s one, spending months on the design before Bagi’s debut as a hero. Her first few nights out protecting the town she spent under the guidance of Etoiles, who was one of the only two heroes whose names were known to the public. When she finally began working as a hero, no longer on probation, she thought back to that day. The day she lost her entire family, the day where she witnessed the final fight between Cucurucho and Cucurevil. Cucurucho was still alive and acted as a mentor for new and upcoming heroes. Cucurevil didn’t survive that fight, she had spoken to Cucurucho and whilst he said he regretted killing him, he determined that the action had to of happened.

Tubbo, confused by the actions of heroes, and surprised by the actions of villains, didn’t begin a heroic path or a villainous one, he simply remained neutral. He wasn’t adopted; in fact, he ended up on the streets multiple times. He hadn’t discovered his power, instead decided he was one of the unfortunate, one of the powerless. He didn’t really care. He wasn’t adopted; however, he did meet some good friends. Whilst he was on the streets, he met a man called Pac. He was an amputee as well as an ex-convict, but Tubbo didn’t care. He was kind and that was all that mattered to him. He had an unregistered power of healing, but Tubbo wasn’t going to report him. They stayed on the streets together for a while, Tubbo got a job, Pac did too, they moved into an apartment together, Pac got a new job, one which was remote, and he never left the house again. Tubbo then met Fit. The man began as a customer at the coffee shop he worked at, and became a friend through questions. Fit was curious about how somebody so young could work. Eventually Fit met Pac, and he moved in, the three of them barely surviving on their jobs, but they were happy. Tubbo frequently thought back to that day. The day he lost his entire family, but he had a new one now, and whilst they didn’t replace the old one, they were his and that was what mattered. 

The three children all grew up extremely differently, despite being born from the same two parents. They did however have some similarities. They all learnt English, they all visited the site of the battle once a year, they all gained a power, not that Tubbo knew it, and they all grieved over the loss of each other, despite them all surviving. 

The Federation controlled the Green (gay) Ninjas, also known as the heroes. The villains formed a group called Bolas, united them as a force to be reckoned with. The vigilantes, whilst not forming a group, did often help each other, naming their occasional assistance as Soulfire. 

The heroes were famous, containing big names such as Etoiles, the Sergeant, the Wastelander, although he appears later, Spider-man, Craft, Ghost, the Scribe, ElQuackity, the Iron lady, the General, and DJ. They were known for being good, having great intentions and protecting those in peril. 

The villains were infamous for their chaos. They also contained big names such as the CrowFather, Duck, Cannibal, Saint of Death, Totem, BlueBird, El backflipo, Vegetta, the only named Bolas, and Rex. They were known for tormenting the public and murdering those who got in their way. 

The vigilantes were known for their neutrality; they often publicly spoke about their hate for both the heroes and the villains. They too contained big names such as Aypierre, Halo, Boogie Man, Mermaid, Arin, Missa, Shell Keeper, Tazer, although he appears later, Pol, Rivers, The GOAT, and finally Creation, although he too appears later. Quite a few of the vigilantes used their real names, too fed up with the system to play into it to create their own, and they were good enough at evading the heroes to get caught, even with their real identities for everyone to see.

These three groups weren't friendly with each other, they often fought in public, but that was the way society worked on Quesadilla island. 

Our story begins through the perspective of a young boy, only sixteen, who had been through hell and back. Tubbo, who had decided to change his name from Toby, is the main perspective we shall follow through, however there will be others, such as his siblings, Cellbit and Bagi, and maybe even his friends Fit and Pac. Each perspective is unique and nobody is truly evil, everyone believes they are in the right, as that is human nature but what opinion will you hold of them?

Chapter Text

Tubbo’s pulse raced. They had only just been able to pay the bills that month, having a singular pound left over. He sighed. Fit had just got laid off from his job, and Pac’s job had begun paying him less since he was a work-from-home employee and he had been asked to meet in person, yet he refused. They’d have to figure out a way to eat, or something, but for now they had a roof over their heads and that was what mattered. 

Fit’s medical bills for his prosthetic arm nearly killed them last month, and since then Pac stopped wearing his, only putting it on for ‘emergencies’ as he didn’t want any more unnecessary bills. Tubbo thought that was stupid. If Pac needed it, he needed it, Tubbo could take up more shifts at StarBobby’s, he probably would anyway considering their current predicament. 

Pac lay on the sofa, Fit sat beside him, Tubbo sat at the kitchen counter, counting bills and costs and everything. He swung his legs back and forth creating a pattern to ease his anxiety. 

“Everything okay Tubbo?” Fit asked.

Tubbo. That was his name. Not Toby, not anymore. He had changed his name a while ago, before he met Pac. He was now Tubbo Underscore, not Toby Lange, those days of being a traumatised child were over, he was a new person now, and whilst he wasn’t an adult, only sixteen, he wasn’t a child either. 

“Yeah, just calculating bills,”

“Have we got enough?” Pac asked.

“Only just,”

“How much left over?” Fit asked.

“One pound,”

“Shit, is that all?”

“Yeah… I’ll pick up some more shifts at the cafe,”

“I promise I am trying to find a new job,” Fit stated.

“We know Fitch, I wish my boss would pay me more but I can’t go out into public-”

“Why? You never told me why?”

Pac shifted his gaze over to Tubbo. Tubbo knew why. Pac was an escaped convict, who was offered a job at Green Ninjas but refused, his refusal meant he was a fugitive, whereas his brother accepted, separating the two. Pac had never told Fit. Tubbo also knew why. Pac liked Fit, he found the man attractive and didn’t want Fit to think of him differently because of his past, so he never said why, and so Pac left the apartment as little as possible to limit the chances of being sent back to prison. He knew Pac was scared.

“Uh…” Pac stuttered.

“You aren’t going to tell me, are you?” Fit sighed, “It’s fine Pac, it can be a little secret between you and Tubbo-”

“Wait how-” Tubbo interrupted.

“Pac always looks to you for help when I ask, but I won’t care about what it is,”

“It’s complicated…” Pac sighed.

That meant he didn’t want to say. It was what Pac always said. Tubbo turned back to their bills, recounting to make sure he was correct and unfortunately, he was. Fit and Pac returned to their previous conversation, their words being mumbled into one, Tubbo being unable to comprehend their words except for the occasional word. 

“The accident of Favela…” he heard Fit mumble.

His hands began to shake, had they figured out who he was? No, they couldn’t have. He wasn’t classed as missing anymore. He was assumed to be dead. He didn’t even speak Portuguese anymore, despite Pac doing so, it wasn’t worth the risk. His heart beat faster, oxygen, he needed oxygen, he couldn’t breathe in the heavy smog, the thick smoke that surrounded him as a child. He wasn’t there and realistically he knew that. Fuck. He couldn’t have a panic attack. No. No. No. Fit would ask about the trigger because he wouldn’t want to do it again, and Pac would tell him talking about it helps. No. No. No. He had to get out. 

“I’m going on a walk,” he forced the words out of his throat. 

He left the flat before either of his friends could answer. He rushed down the stairs, skipping many at a time, nearly falling face first. He ran out of the building into the pouring rain, he didn’t know where he was running but he eventually found a spot to be alone. It was an abandoned car park, only abandoned cars resided there. Emotions pulsed through his body, building inside him, burning through his veins. It hurt, like a force pushing out from inside him. He walked to the centre of the car park, the cold winter air biting against his burning hot skin. He was scared.

His skin began to glow, shades of purple, blue, white and gold shone from underneath his epidermis. Energy pulsated through his hands and arms, and chest and torso and head and feet and legs. Tubbo took a deep breath. Then crash. Several abandoned cars’ alarms blared, windscreens shattered, tired deflated, concrete cracked, everything was destroyed. Several cars had been sent flying, including one in Tubbo’s direction, but as soon as it got close, it bounced off something. Tubbo held his hands out, which were still glowing blue. Was this his power? Did he finally get one? Heat rushed through his body. A glowing blue dome surrounded him; did he get a forcefield? What had attacked him? He looked around desperately… but no one was there. He dropped his hands to his side and the blue dome? Blue forcefield? Fell. He immediately ran home, the explosion sound had been deafening and if he wasn’t already deaf in his right ear, he surely would’ve experienced becoming deaf again. Many people would rush to the scene and he would be found guilty of something… he and the police hadn’t gotten on well. 

Foot after foot. He ran home. Chest heaving. He had to get out. Somehow. Once he reached his flat, he slipped the key into the lock, turned it and bolted inside. To his surprise Fit wasn’t there, Pac was, Pac never left, but Fit was sleeping on the sofa that night… so he shouldn’t be in the main bedroom, and the bathroom door was open…

“Where’s Fit?”

“Where have you been?” 

They spoke simultaneously, neither answered the other’s question, wanting their own answers first. The tv’s previous background noise became Tubbo’s focus as his ear perked up on the words ‘explosion five minutes ago in an abandoned car park’. Pac’s eyes flickered over Tubbo’s face, searching for damage. Tubbo knew that face well, Pac had healed him multiple times, at his own expense, not caring for the extreme exhaustion or the migraines it caused him. Tubbo disliked Pac for that, not caring about himself, Tubbo thought he deserved more care. 

“Interview…” Pac finally said.

“At this time of night?” Tubbo asked, “It’s nearly eleven,”

“Sim, it’s to be a janitor at the Green Gay Ninjas building in Quesadilla,” 

“What?” 

“I know… I tried to stop him-”

“But you didn’t tell him about Mike, did you?”

“Não…”

“He might find out,”

“I know,”

“I don’t think he’ll hate you,”

“Não of course he won’t, he’s too nice for that,”

“Pac-”

“Now where were you? I want answers,”

“I went on a walk,”

“Where?”

“Does it matter?”

“When there was an explosion in a car park, and an ongoing hero-villain fight right now, sim it matters,”

“There’s a fight?”

“Yeah, a new hero is debuting alongside Mikey, he’s called the Wastelander,”

“What does Wastelander do?”

“Apparently his cells heal faster than the normal person,”

“Wow, great power,”

“Não, Tubbo you don’t understand, he can build muscle faster, recover from injuries faster, train more…”

“So, he’s the closest any hero has ever been to super strength?”

“Sim, now I want answers, where were you?”

Tubbo had managed to evade Pac’s questioning, instead excusing himself to watch the news. The new hero, Wastelander, appeared to be very skilled, he fought with an ease, like it was muscle memory. His build was similar to Fit’s, which was an odd comparison to make. 

Pac snuggled into Tubbo’s side. The man was very affectionate, and despite Tubbo not particularly liking physical touch, he didn’t mind Pac. He was an exception. He’d known Pac for at least three years at this point, having met on the streets. They met Fit a while after, their original flat, before Fit joined, was rat infested and mouldy. This one wasn’t as bad; it certainly wasn’t nice by any means but it was liveable.

Tubbo lay awake, tossing and turning all night. Thousands of thoughts ran through his brain. ‘Did he have powers?’ ‘Had Fit returned home?’ ‘Who attacked him?’ ‘Will they survive the month?’ ‘Will his boss give him more hours?’. Pac slept soundly beside him, gently snoring. Tubbo chuckled, he looked peaceful, Tubbo wished he could be peaceful like Pac. 

Pac spoke Portuguese around the house often, and the sole district that spoke that language was Favela. Was Pac involved in the Favela accident? Tubbo had never spoken to him about it, but it could only be assumed, most Portuguese speaking children were and he knew Pac grew up in an orphanage before running away, like him, so maybe. He wasn’t going to ask though. It was personal. And every time he even thought about the incident, the right side of his face burnt, the pain a distant echo of the agony he felt that day, but nonetheless still hurting. 

He never knew if Bagi and Cellbit made it out alive. Of course he had his hopes, every child would. But after eight years of not seeing them… hope… hope had run out. If they had survived, maybe Bagi was a detective like she always dreamed to be, or maybe Cellbit was a private investigator like he always dreamed to be. Unfortunately, he’d never seen a Detective Lange or a PI Lange on the news, but maybe they too changed their names. 

Suddenly Tubbo heard a door open and shut. Their front door. He crept out of bed, careful to not wake Pac before searching their flat. His hands shook, it was not the first time that their apartment had been broken into, but both Fit and Pac were awake for that last time. He turned the corner. It was Fit. He appeared to be covered in blood? Tubbo watched as the man walked into their bathroom and turned the shower on. He turned his gaze to the clock, six in the morning. Fit had arrived home at six in the morning from his eleven pm interviews. Tubbo had questions. A lot of questions. 

He sat down on the sofa, kicking his legs, waiting for Fit to exit the bathroom. The sounds of spilling water ceased. The shower door creaked open. Shuffling of clothes. Fit opened the door. They locked eyes. Fit’s eyes widened in horror. Tubbo’s face kept an even expression. Neither of them said a word. Fit sat down beside Tubbo, anxiously waiting for his questions. 

“Were you safe?”

“What?”

“You clearly don’t want me to ask where you’ve been and I respect that but I saw you walk in covered in blood… So, were you safe?”

“Yes and no,”

“Hero-villain fight?”

“Yes,”

“Did anyone die? That’s a lot of blood,”

“It was Cannibal…”

“YOU WERE NEAR CANNIBAL?”

“Shut up, Pac could hear you,”

“You were near Cannibal?”

“Yes, please don’t tell Pac, I was safe though, Craft and Wastelander were there,”

“How do you know Wastelander’s name? He only appeared on the news tonight and you weren’t here,”

“He introduced himself at my interview and um… walked me home with Craft but they got stopped by Cannibal,”

“Oh… when did your interview end because that would explain being an hour late… not five,”

“My interview ran long… they want to hire me,”

“They do? That’s amazing,”

“It ended at like two,”

“For a janitor position?”

“It was weird, I suppose it’s because I’ll be near confidential information,”

“Ah… but two to six… your still missing a few hours,”

“I got introduced to a bunch of the heroes,”

“And that took three to four hours?”

“Yeah… there’s a lot and there’s non-heroes who work there too who I also got introduced to,”

“Okay…”

“You don’t believe me,”

“No, I don’t, but as long as you were safe,”

“Why because we can’t afford any more medical bills?”

“We literally can’t, now I’m going to prepare for my shift, get to bed bald man,”

“Okay child,”

“I am literally a child that insult doesn’t work,”

“And I am literally a bald man,”

“Shit,”

Tubbo showered. Changed. Ate. And left the building. Fit had gone to bed. Pac was still asleep but he was on his way to work. Star Bobby’s run by a woman named Jaiden. Tubbo loved his boss. She was very nice. He was just hoping she’d allow him more shifts because if not, despite Fit’s new job, they weren’t going to survive. 

He walked through the scorching heat of Quesadilla, despite it being six in the morning, it was already ridiculously hot. He unlocked the cafe, turning the key, and stepping into the cool cafe. Jaiden would be joining him shortly but he had to get everything set up. 

One by one he took all the chairs off of the tables, wiped the tables down, cleaned the floors, set up the coffee machines and scrolled his phone waiting for Jaiden to arrive. She walked inside, the bell on the door ringing announcing her arrival. Tubbo tucked his phone into his pocket and looked up to greet her. She smiled, and put on her apron. They opened the cafe together, and began serving customers. Tubbo had made far too many lattes and was beginning to get tired of it, but he couldn’t take a break, it was unpaid and Tubbo needed to be paid. Jaiden had tried to send him on break about five times, but each time he rejected her. He was going to ask for more shifts soon, so he needed to prove that he was a hard worker. 

Vanilla latte. Caramel latte. Flat white. Caramel latte. Hot chocolate. Chai. Latte. Tubbo had made them all and more. Customer after customer. It was exhausting. Yet no matter how many times he made the same drink, he always burnt himself. His hand recoiled as he touched the scolding hot pipe. He cursed. Old people stared at him. He walked over to Jaiden, who looked at him with a frown, before taking over his job whilst he washed his hand under cold water. The burn seemed to radiate with the same glowing blue he had seen before. 

“I’m going on break!” he called out. 

He rushed into the backroom, holding his hand, desperate for it to be fine, to not have a power, he didn’t need any more chaos. He’d never even heard of that type of power before. Every power was categorised into 4 groups. Group A, the most dangerous and rare powers, like blood manipulation, mind control, umbrakinesis and matter manipulation as well as a plethora of others. Group B, were the highly powerful but good powers, they were less rare than Group A but they weren’t common either, this included powers like element manipulation, telekinesis, healing, probability manipulation, time manipulation and others. Group C were considered useless powers like producing light from your hands or feature manipulation. Group D were powerless. 

Tubbo always thought he was powerless, he had hoped to be. He often wondered whether his siblings would have gained powers, if they had survived, but… well… It was kind of scary, thinking that anyone he knew, anyone he loved could die at any minute due to heroes and villains, it’s stupid, the villains fight for their rights, which they often deserve, but they kill and harm innocent people to get it, and the heroes fight back, preventing their rights but trying to do the right thing. 

The doors to the break room swung open, Bad, one of Tubbo’s coworkers, they’d known each other for a while. Tubbo immediately hid his hands behind his back, he didn’t need to be reported for having an undocumented power, he didn’t need any more criminal charges on his house, Pac already had enough for the three of them. He swallowed, waiting for Bad to leave… but he didn’t. He walked over to Tubbo. Never saying a word. He rested his hand on his shoulder, and just stared at him. 

“Your skin… it’s glowing blue…” Bad stated. 

“What?”

Bad immediately pulled Tubbo further into the break room, towards the bathroom and pushed him inside. Tubbo was scared. He didn’t know what was happening. He didn’t know what his body was doing and he couldn’t afford any medical care. Bad turned around and locked the door. Fuck. He was going to be forced to have this conversation. 

“Does it hurt?” Bad asked.

“What?”

“Do your powers hurt?”

“Uh no…”

“How long have you known about them?”

“Uh… I’m confused… I don’t have powers,”

“Answer me Tubbo, this is important,”

“Bad, are you feeling well? I’m powerless and I wasn’t glowing blue? Are you hallucinating? Do I need to call an ambulance?”

“Really? Well… uh… I’m fine… no need for an ambulance,”

When Tubbo arrived home that evening, he was welcomed by the sweet smell of a takeaway, specifically a Chinese takeaway. Which was odd considering that they didn’t have the money for a takeaway. The smell drifted through the flat, Tubbo walked inside, locking up, and making his way towards the kitchen, where both Fit and Pac stood.

“You didn’t steal that did you?” Tubbo immediately asked.

“No, I got the money as a signing bonus with the company,” Fit explained.

“Oh…”

Tubbo was suspicious of Fit. He had been acting weird since he got the new job, and despite it having only been a single day. Tubbo knew Fit. He knew him well. Living in poverty with somebody means you learn a lot about them. Fit was a habitual creature, he didn’t stray from their routines, and randomly getting a takeaway with extra money instead of rationing it, wasn’t like him. 

Pac seemed happy though. Happily chewing on sweet and sour chicken. Tubbo envied his naivety, something was wrong and he was going to figure it out. Something was wrong with Fit. Something was wrong with Tubbo. But Pac. Pac seemed to be okay. 

“Tubbo,” Pac smiled, “We can finally have a movie night, all of us are off work!” 

“Oh… I’m sorry Pac,” Fit interrupted, “I’m required to be there tonight, but we’ve got two hours,”

“Two hours?” Tubbo complained, “But we always spend at least five,”

“Well maybe it’s time for some change,” Fit defended.

Tubbo and Pac locked eyes. Pac had realised it now. They both had. It was strange. Fit EmCee, a man notoriously afraid of change… now stating that it’s time for change. Something was wrong… very wrong. He didn’t look unhealthy and his new job credentials checked out… he wasn’t faking working for GGN headquarters. Still, it was strange and Tubbo was curious. 

“How much money did you get as a signing bonus?” Tubbo asked.

“A thousand,”

“Mil libras!” Pac squealed, “We can afford rent for two months with that,” (A thousand pounds!)

“Why do we even rent this place?” Tubbo questioned aloud, “It’s barely better than the last and costs at least twice as much,”

“Because this one doesn’t have rats and mice, black mould on everything, one tiny bed for us all to squeeze into, weird spillages everywhere, and you know our lives aren’t at risk here,” Fit stated.

“But the ratinhos were cute,” Pac complained.

“Don’t defend the ratinhos,” Fit sighed, “Please don’t defend the ratinhos,”

“What was wrong with the ratinhos Fit?” Tubbo teased.

“They were diseased and causing you two far too many health concerns that you couldn’t receive medical care for,”

“Couldn’t? We still can’t,” Tubbo stated.

“Actually, with my new job, I’ve got health insurance, and well because you two are technically my family, I can put you down under it so we all get free healthcare,”

“NÃO!” Pac yelled.

“Why not?”

“I- I… It’s- No-”

“It’s complicated but Pac cannot be on it, and nor can I,”

“What?”

“We were on the streets before you met us, remember?”

“Yes, what about it?”

“We are both runaways… I’m still sixteen, people will come looking for me,”

“And Pac?”

“Uh… other reasons,” Pac panicked.

“Okay then…”

“Obrigado for trying Fitch,”

“It’s fine, I guess,”

“No Fit-”

“I’m going to work now, maybe I’ll be able to clock out early, I’ll see you both later,”

The door slammed shut. Both Pac and Tubbo looked at each other. Stunned. Neither had a clue what to do, they couldn’t tell the truth. Tubbo wasn’t legally a person, Toby was, and whilst Pac didn’t know that either, he also told the truth about his old orphanage. Pac was an ex-convict, and currently a wanted criminal. They couldn’t tell Fit. What would he think? 

“Is he okay?” Pac asked.

“I don’t know…” 

“I’m worried about him,”

“We need to keep an eye on him,”

Chapter Text

Cellbit’s pulse raced. Adrenaline coursed through his veins. He loved the thrill of being a villain, and sure being ‘evil’ was never his goal in life, he thought he was in the right and that was what mattered, not the general public’s opinion. He lived, not in luxury but not in poverty either, ever since Philza took him under his wing, both figuratively and literally. 

He sat in the Bolas meeting room, all the major villains had formed an alliance, none of them were actually evil, just misunderstood, Cellbit knew most of their stories, and even a few identities. The CrowFather, or Philza as he knew him, stood in front of all the villains going over plans to attempt to steal a weapon of mass destruction. All villains seemed to be pleased with this, even Duck, or Baghera as he had learnt to address her in private.

“We aren’t going to use it right?” Cellbit asked, “Just steal it?”

“Why wouldn’t we use it?” Totem asked.

“Uh- because- we… we- it’s not ethical,”

“We’re villains, since when do we care about ethics?” BlueBird asked.

“Uh-”

“No, we won’t use it,” Philza decided, “We do not want a repeat of the Favela incident,”

“But that wasn’t Cucurevil’s fault,” Vegetta protested. 

“And yet we got blamed for it,” the CrowFather protested, “Look we want to steal it so they can’t use it on us… I believe the heroes are up to something we need to stop them before they can kill one of us,”

“So, what’s the plan?” Baghera asked.

“We each have a hero that we directly contrast, a hero who has skills similar to us, I want all of us to distract them whilst Cannibal sneaks in a steals it-”

“P- CrowFather I shouldn’t, they could find out my identity,”

“How would stealing something reveal your identity?” El backflipo asked. 

“No reason,”

“It’ll be fine, there is currently nine of them and nine of us, including cannibal, so we need to distract Spiderman, he would be the hero they send after you,”

“He is…” Cellbit sighed.

“So, when are we pulling off this heist?” BlueBird asked.

“Tomorrow, two in the morning, be here at eleven at night,”

Cellbit stood up from his seat. He didn’t wear a typical ‘villain’ costume, like other villains, he simply wore a green trench coat, which harboured several blood stains, a light-brown shirt, and dark-brown trousers. His face was concealed with a simple gas-mask, a symbol of Bolas, and goggles. He wouldn’t normally terrorise the heroes this early in the night, it was only eleven, but he was bored and that meeting was going to kill him. 

He smirked, ran a finger through his hair, and stepped into the fresh air. He gripped onto the cool metal of a fire escape, and flung himself up, climbing to the top of a roof. In the distance he could see two figures, one which he recognised as Craft and a figure he didn’t recognise as any hero or vigilante. Cellbit prayed that he wasn’t a new hero… because if he was, Philza's plan could be ruined. 

He took to the shadows; his trench coat flickered in the wind behind him. The two walked over rooftops, surveying the area, not knowing that no villain, except him, would be out tonight. He couldn’t tell if the man was a hero, because whilst he did wear a disguise, he was also in civilian clothes. Feeling fed-up of not knowing, he lifted his gas-mask ever so slightly and whistled. Their heads snapped to him as he dropped the mask back over his face and stepped into the moonlight. 

Craft stepped towards him, eyes clearly tracking his hands, Cellbit was known for being able to take down people with his bare hands let alone weapons, but even more Craft and Cellbit knew each other. Craft was Mike. Mike was Craft. They had met in prison, and Cellbit had eaten his best friend’s leg… but it was still surprising to see Craft without Pac, he hadn’t seen Pac since prison, and well… he wanted to apologise, he was different now. He felt guilty. 

“Cannibal,”

“Craft,”

“Revealed my identity yet?”

“No, you revealed mine?”

“You two know each other’s identities?” the new man asked.

“Who is this?” Cellbit growled.

“His name is Wastelander,” Mike proudly introduced.

“A new hero… interesting…”

“What are you planning?” Mike asked.

“Nothing,” Cellbit snarled.

“You only wear that specific mask after a Bolas meeting, you’ve just come from one… you’ve been planning something, and you are out ridiculously early for you,”

“I left early,” 

“Why?” Wastelander asked. 

“Why?” Cellbit echoed, “Well because it was boring, now if you excuse me-”

“Não,” Mike said, stepping in front of Cellbit. 

“Craft we both know that my power outranks yours, you will die,”

“Not with Wastelander here,” 

Cellbit took a step back. He didn’t know Wastelander’s power. That was risky. It could be something nothing to do with his name or something directly relating to it, yet he couldn’t think of any power, except nuclear energy, relating to the name, and he desperately hoped it wasn’t that. He looked Wastelander up and down. He was a broad man, he looked strong, and he obviously had a power on top of that.

“You could just let me go…” Cellbit squeaked, “I have no plans to wreak havoc today,”

“Não,” 

Cellbit sighed. He really didn’t want a fight but if he had to he would. He could control blood, having learnt his power of blood manipulation years ago under Philza’s guidance, it however had a drawback. His own blood would thin and carry less oxygen whilst he did it, causing him to often faint, which was why he worked better when fighting against one hero, or with another villain by his side. Craft’s power was energy manipulation, he could control it, both the energy humans use to move and the energy of electronics. 

He felt his energy drain, as he saw the dull glow of light from Mike’s skin. Wastelander just watched. His arms felt like lead, pinned down to his side, his heart weakened, and other bodily functions slowed, he would end up asleep soon. Cellbit had to stop Mike before it was too late. He focused. Imaging the blood vessels in his body. He didn’t want to kill Mike. He stopped the blood rushing through his arteries and waited for it to work, he wouldn’t hold it forever, just enough for Mike to collapse. His head panged, both from the pain of Craft’s power and from the drain of his. Craft’s hold on his energy eventually began to cease, his arms felt lighter. He watched as Mike swayed, clawing at his chest, begging for more oxygen, before he collapsed. Cellbit grinned. 

Suddenly a body crashed into him. He desperately attempted to pull them off, but he was pinned. He could no longer think about Craft and instead focused on Wastelander. He’d never met him before, and so controlling his blood would be more difficult. A sharp pain crashed into his skull. Thin blood poured out. His head spun. Just escape. He didn’t have to win the fight. He just had to escape. His mind flashed to his father’s dead body, and the blood coated it. His blood was covering his face. The same DNA that he once had on his hands… now coated his face, only this time it was his DNA not his dad’s. He wouldn’t die. He knew that. The heroes had a vow against killing, and once they did kill they’d be on probation for years, but he was still scared. He didn’t want to be that little boy, that boy who was scared because his father was unconscious, who was scared because his twin was crying, who was scared because his little brother was too young to experience pain. But even now, even after all of those years, he was still that boy. Only he no longer had parents or siblings.

He kicked and squirmed, but he couldn’t escape Wastelander’s grip. No civilians were anywhere to be seen. He wouldn’t die. But he also couldn’t reach the cyanide pill he kept in his outfit; he would rather die than be kept prisoner. Mike had stood up. Breathing heavily. Blood spilling out of his nose. He wiped it, smudging the stain over his face. His mask only covered the top half of his face, Cellbit never knew why, it was easy to discover his identity, but he never asked questions.

Suddenly a burst of blue light illuminated the street. The hold on him faltered, enough so that he could wiggle free, but he didn’t run. He didn’t have the urge to. Mike and Wastelander both looked confused. Cellbit thought it was Mike; his entire brand was green, so it couldn't be him.

“Wastelander we need to check that out, forget Cannibal, we’ll catch him another day,” Craft ordered.

“Understood,” Wastelander said. 

Cellbit watched as the two ran off into the distance towards the blue light, which was slowly dissipating. However, car alarms blared in the distance. Cellbit, still a bit shaken up from the encounter, decided to go home. 

Once he reached his home, he took off his outfit and jumped straight into the shower. Once out, he turned the tv on. He prayed there wasn’t a situation like the one in his youth. His hands shook in anticipation. On the screen it showed a car park that had blown up. Car windshields shattered, tyres burst, bumpers and bonnets blown off. It looked horrifying but it wasn’t a hero-villain fight, he could guarantee that. No other child would have to lose their entire family, not like he did. His mother was dead. His father was dead. Bagi was dead. Toby was dead. It was why he became a villain. The heroes who were supposed to protect them, to protect him, didn’t. They failed. They lied. It was their fault. Cellbit may be a villain but he wasn’t a bad person, he wouldn’t let any other villain hurt a child, nor attack civilians, much to their dismay, but he would attack the heroes, and occasionally vigilantes when they got in the way, but he preferred not to.

He lived alone. But Philza had a key. So did Baghera. They were the only two who knew about his past. He heard a key enter the lock, but he didn’t turn around, instead focusing on the monotonous voice of the news reporter. Philza walked inside. His footsteps were too heavy to be Baghera, and too slow to be anyone else. His breathing was steady but with an odd hitch every five or so breaths, Cellbit noticed this. Cellbit noticed everything. More oxygen circulated his blood than normally, probably due to heavier breathing before entering the room. 

“What?” Cellbit spat, not turning.

“We need to talk,”

“Philza I don’t-”

“Not about villain work,”

“Then what about?” Cellbit finally turned around. 

Philza’s wings tensed, he shuffled through the entrance towards Cellbit and sat down beside him. He sighed, closing his eyes. 

“You need a life, a life outside villain work-”

“I have a life,” Cellbit defended.

“Do you have friends?”

“You, Baghs,”

“Non-villain friends?”

“No… but-”

“Do you have a job?”

“Well, no… but I just steal the money I need to survive, so what’s the point?”

“I’m worried about you Cellbit,”

“Well don’t be, I’m fine,”

“I have set you up on a date,”

“WHAT?”

“There’s this guy, his name is Roier, BlueBird is his roommate, she suggested it, tomorrow 9pm, don’t be late,”

“I can’t go on a date-”

“He’s just a civilian, he doesn’t know about BlueBird’s villainy, so don’t mention it,”

“I won’t… but what if our views don’t align,”

“Then you don’t go on a second date, you can’t be afraid of things like this failing,”

“Fine,”

Cellbit didn’t sleep that night, and normally he would’ve gone out to terrorise the heroes, but after his interaction with Craft and Wastelander, he was scared. He wasn’t sure why he didn’t mention the new hero to Philza, he probably should have, but he didn’t… and he’d surely have to pay that price for that later. 

During the night he researched everything he could about Wastelander, it didn’t end up being much but he had fragments of a man. He was tall, 190cm most likely, though it was hard to tell. Whilst Cellbit was 177cm. Wastelander had a prosthetic arm, but so did a lot of the population of Favela after the incident… and that was about all the information that he gathered from his brief interaction. 

He had wasted the day away in bed, rotting, staring at his phone, before he took a shy glance at the time. It was 8pm. He would be late if he didn’t start getting ready, look call him vain but he actually cared about his appearance. He hopped in the shower, washed his hair, got out, applied deodorant, got changed, put on some random cologne that he found, grabbed his keys, and walked out of his house. 

He drove for around twenty minutes, trying to find the place Philza had sent him. He arrived. He was slightly early, as per usual for him, he was seated and ordered water for the table. His hands shook in anticipation as he waited for the mysterious ‘Roier’ who he knew nothing about, not even what he looked like. 

A man walked in, brown messy hair, a wide smile, a red hoodie and black trousers walked in. He looked nervous, but also excited. Cellbit sighed, this was probably his date, he did look like the kind of man who’d be BlueBird’s roommate. A sudden thought flashed in his mind, he didn’t know BlueBird’s identity, but her roommate would and would likely talk about her, he was going to find out BlueBird’s identity. 

“Hola, are you Cellbit?” the man asked.

“Sim, I’m Cellbit,”

“Ah, I’m Roier,”

“Nice to meet you,”

“You too,” Roier sat down opposite him. 

“So…”

“So…” 

“I’m sorry I haven’t been on a date in a long while, I’m not sure how this is supposed to go,” that was a lie, Cellbit had never been on a date, too busy with villain stuff.

“Oh, don’t worry, nor have I,”

“Oh, thank goodness,”

“So, you know Jaiden from work?”

“Sim,”

“What do you do? She won’t tell me, says she’s under an NDA or something,”

“Can’t tell you either, desculpe,”

“Sim? Desculpe? I’m sorry, what language is that? Is it Portuguese?"

“Yeah it’s Portuguese,”

“So, you're from Favela?”

“Sim, I’m assuming you aren’t?”

“Correcto, I am from the Quesadilla district,”

They continued talking over dinner. Cellbit was actually enjoying himself, and Roier was surprisingly attractive. Cellbit could have a chance with him. 

“What do you think of the heroes?”

“Which ones? There’s a lot,”

“Spiderman?”

Shit. The date was over. Cellbit despised Spiderman, the insect made his life a living hell, attempting to foil all of his plans. He wasn’t even a highly destructive or violent villain, but no… Spiderman has to go and fight him. 

“Um… he appears to have good intentions…”

“You don’t like him?” Roier asked.

“Não.. Not really, but that’s because I don’t believe heroes actually help people,”

“Oh, so you believe villains are in the right?”

“I mean… intentions are what matter right?”

“Ay dios mío, you prefer Cannibal to Spiderman don’t you?”

“I mean…” Cellbit awkwardly laughed.

“That’s fine even if I think you are un cabron, I can still date a Cannibal fan,”

“I am not a fan,”

“Yeah and I’m not Mexican,”

“Wait? Date? You want to date me?”

“Well… uh- yeah? I’ve liked this so far… and uh-” Roier blushed.

Cellbit was screaming internally. Despite their obvious differences Roier wanted to date him, or at least have a second date. He didn’t fuck up! But that meant Philza was right… it didn’t really matter though, the old man would be happy for him, sure he’d receive a little bit of teasing but that was fine. 

The date continued on for an hour, both of them laughed and teased and smiled. They were having a great time. But Cellbit suddenly remembered the heist. He had to leave. Fuck. He was actually enjoying himself… if only this heist didn’t revolve around him. 

“I’m so sorry to cut this short but I have to go… I’d love to do this again though,”

“Oh yeah… me too actually, but yeah I’d love to, I’ll have Jaiden send you my number,”

“Tchau,”

“Adiós,”

Cellbit sat in the Bolas meeting room. Philza was informing everyone of all the procedures. He didn’t mention Wastelander. Did he still not know? Did Cellbit not tell him? Crap. It was too late now. Cellbit took a breath. Cracked his knuckles, and leant backwards in his chair. Stealing was second nature to him, Pac taught him how in prison, and he repaid him by eating the man’s leg… he shuddered. He felt so guilty. He wanted to apologise. Offer his leg if he had to. Anything to make it right. But he had no clue where Pac was. 

“All ready?” Philza asked.

Everyone nodded and they all left the meeting room at different times to assure the secrecy of the building. Cellbit’s green coat danced in the wind behind him. He sighed. Time to steal. Pac taught him five rules.

One. Know the place you're invading. He’d already failed that, he didn’t know the interior whatsoever, but he knew the exterior. On the ground floor there were five cameras in the front, two on either side, and five in the back. Twenty stories. Philza was going to fly him onto the roof. It would likely have cameras too, but by that point all villains would be attacking from different angles, hopefully the roof would be ignored.

Two. Don’t carry weapons. Carrying weapons increases your time in prison. Carrying weapons means you have no plausible deniability. Cellbit had four currently on his hip. Some knives, a gun, and some throwing stars. 

Three. Plan an escape route. That one he hadn’t failed. He had five in mind. One via the roof. One via crashing through a window. One via the ground floor. One via the tunnels underneath the building, that he wasn’t supposed to know about. And one via being captured and then escaping later. 

Four. Don’t get greedy. Greedy is how you get caught. Steal what you've planned to steal. Nothing more. Nothing less. If you enter a room and there’s something else you want, it could be trapped, so unless you’ve explicitly planned to nick it then don’t. 

Five. Have a plan for failure. What happens if you don’t steal it? Do you try again? Do you try to rob somewhere else? Have a plan. It’s important. Stealing can save yours and others lives, your life is worth more than a jewel, so what will you do to protect your life?

Cellbit liked these lessons. He taught Pac how to get away with murder too. Pac said he’d only use it in emergencies. Pac was the only person who knew the true number of people Cellbit had murdered and ate. He missed Pac. That was a friendship he ruined. 

He stood in front of the looming building. GGN headquarters. Philza rested a hand on his shoulder. Villains charged forwards. Screaming and yelling began instantly. Suddenly Cellbit was being lifted into the air, Philza flying him up. He closed his eyes. Breathing steadily, in a careful pattern. He imagined every single exit. He imagined every single room. He imagined every single hero. He was going to fight his way to that weapon, but he wasn’t going to risk his life for it. He wasn’t going to break rule five. He had a second date to attend; he wasn’t going to ghost Roier. 

His feet touched the roof and Philza’s arms retracted from under his. He was alone. No Spiderman in sight. No Wastelander in sight. No Craft in sight. He crept towards the door; it was probably alarmed but about fifty were already blaring from the other villains. He opened it. Still nobody. That was odd… 

He entered the room, it was dark, and shut the door behind him, encasing himself in the darkness. His gas mask had night vision, thankfully, but a certain spider hybrid had that naturally so he had to be careful. He crept around, attempting to find the staircase, but he couldn’t find it, almost as if he was trapped in a box. 

Suddenly a string of light came from a door opening, Cellbit darted behind a box. He heard talking. The Sargent, Wastelander, Craft and Spiderman. It was odd. How could they all be there? All the villains were attacking. They didn’t even seem scared. Unless the villains retreated and left Cellbit alone. He wouldn’t doubt that either, when you're a villain you can’t trust anyone. One of the heroes’ watches beeped. They all jumped, highly alert. Cellbit had to be careful, or he’d be caught. He snuck behind some other boxes, moving away from them as they moved closer.

“We need to go,” Sargent said. 

Three of them darted out the room, leaving Spiderman alone with Cellbit. He would sigh if he knew Spiderman wouldn’t hear it, but unfortunately for Cellbit, Spiderman had good hearing, which wasn’t even an advancement of his hybrid form. 

“I know you are here,” Spiderman said, “I can hear your breathing, and I can smell your sweat, honestly Cannibal, I thought you’d know better by now,”

“Still can’t see me though,” Cellbit laughed.

“No, that’s true… Why are you attacking? Why are all the villains attacking?”

“Why’d you think?”

“I am unsure, that’s why I’m asking,”

“We rarely band together unless we believe our lives are at stake,”

“We wouldn’t kill you!”

“Cucurucho killed Cucurevil,”

“Name another-”

“Mr Duck killed The Watcher… Mr Bunny killed Luffy…”

“Okay, okay, I get it, what are you trying to do then,”

“Steal a weapon of mass destruction,”

“Steal it then,”

“Desculpe, o que você acabou de dizer?” (Sorry, what did you just say?)

“I said steal it, if it risks your life steal it,”

“Isn’t that betraying the heroes?”

“I made a vow to protect people, you are included in that,”

Chapter Text

Bagi’s pulse raced. She was working out in the gym facility of GGN headquarters. They had a new hire recently. Wastelander. He had superstrength and increased survival skills, almost like Spiderman’s spider sense, except three times as strong. Wastelander was working out next to her, and for the first time since joining GGN she felt weak. She was stronger than quite a few of the heroes, but Wastelander was leagues ahead of her, obviously she wasn’t the strongest before Wastelander arrived, but she wasn’t far behind them. He was clearly very strong. She had been training as a hero for the longest out of all the active heroes, so she had an advantage when it came to physical fights with no powers, except she wouldn’t against Wastelander.

He was going out with Craft later, for his first shift. She hoped that his first time going out would be relatively easy, but they lived on Quesadilla island, and he didn’t monitor the Quesadilla district, he was going to monitor Favela and Fobo, two of the poorest districts. Fobo was a working district, it contained many mechanics and engineers, who did the hardest work only to be paid very little. Favela had always been a mess, the vast majority of people who lived there were teachers or waiters or had other part time jobs, nothing major. 

Bagi was an odd case. She grew up in the Quesadilla district, but was born in Favela. She had grown up both rich and poor. She’d experienced poverty and the horrors that came with it, but she had also experienced privilege. Most heroes had been born in the richer parts of Quesadilla. 

“Hey, Wastelander?”

“Yeah?” 

“Where were you born?”

“2b2t district,”

“Ah… but hey, I guess now you live in a richer part of the island,”

“Richer? No, no, I live in Favela,”

“What? But you have an apartment here, every hero does,”

“I choose not to live there,”

“Why?”

“I have roommates, they wouldn’t be able to afford their place without me, so… yeah, besides I am quite happy living minimalistic,”

“Roommates? I’m sure-”

“If your suggesting I move them to the tower, that would not only reveal my identity to them, they would refuse, one of them hasn’t left the house in years, he works remotely, and the other is incredibly cautious,”

“Not left the house in years?”

“Yep, I don’t know why, and before you ask, no I won’t be sharing their identities,”

“I- I wasn’t going to ask,”

“Sure, you weren’t,” Wastelander laughed, “Anyways I’m going to go meet up with Craft,” 

Bagi always saw the good in people, despite their rankings. Most heroes were in Group B, with very few in Group C, none were from Group A. They had made that mistake before… and never again. She was in Group B. She had the power of time. Yet she never felt like she had enough time. She could freeze time, fast forward, reverse, etc. It was also why she was called Sergeant, she used to be a police sergeant, solving cases with her time warping, she only did that for a year as part of her training to become a hero, but it gave her a name, somewhere to stand and now she was deputy leader of the heroes, Etoiles lead them but if he was out of action, she did. 

She often wondered what powers Cellbit and Toby would have gotten if they had survived. What group would they be in? Would they use their powers? She knew they couldn’t be in Group A or B because otherwise she would know them, but they could be Group C, but that was her assuming they were still alive, she had looked and searched desperately, they were dead. She knew it deep down. If they were alive they were likely Group D. 

She sighed, and began to walk towards her office, being a hero came with an awful amount of paperwork, especially when buildings were damaged in fights against villains. She, luckily, had never caused a building to collapse but some other heroes had, that was a lot of paperwork. 

Bagi walked through her apartment. It was all white. The design of the Federation. The walls were white. The ceiling was white. The furniture was white. The curtains were white. The doors were white. She added colour where she could, like pink blankets, or green plants, but something about the place still felt off. She had lived there for about five years, since becoming a hero, having made her debut at fifteen, which she now understood was far too young and a breach of hero conventions but she was an exception.

She turned on her tv and sat on her sofa, holding a cup of hot chocolate in her palms. She hadn’t had a day off in years and was finally getting one, only one though, she wouldn’t go for more. 

She began watching some movies, ones where she had vague fragments of memories watching with Cellbit and Toby. Obviously she couldn’t be sure. They were dead, although she didn’t know how either died. Toby left before her, and Cellbit after, Cellbit was still alive, pushing down on their father’s chest when she last saw him, and Toby was right before the explosion. She had tried searching the hero database for anyone with those names… but to no avail. No Toby Lange existed. No Cellbit Lange existed. Not anymore. 

Her nice little movie night turned sour. The news interrupted her movie; a blue explosion had occurred in a car park in the Favela district. Nobody was there yet, except a reporter and film crew, no heroes, no villains. She sighed, and stood up, putting down her hot chocolate. She ran into her bedroom and changed into her costume. So much for a fucking day off.

She ran to the car park. Hair swinging behind her as she hopped between buildings. Bagi, also known as Sergeant, had very specific branding. Her hair was pink, something in her contract forbade her from dyeing it any other colour, she wore a trench coat made of black leather, underneath she wore a body suit, something that was easy to move in, but the trench coat allowed her to wield many tools. Bagi’s power. Not many actually knew what it was. Time. When she paused time they wouldn’t see her move, so many villains didn’t actually know her power and it hadn’t been released to the public. She often fought with the villain Bluebird, who just like Crow had a pair of wings, but Bluebird also had the power to teleport, so Bagi could predict her teleports by reversing time. She also often fought with a vigilante called the GOAT, and whilst Bagi never had a personal vendetta against vigilantes, their actions were illegal. 

She arrived at the scene, Wastelander and Craft having already set up a perimeter for civilians to avoid. She smiled, having trained them well. She walked over, placed her hand on Craft’s shoulder, causing him to jump, before asking questions. 

“O que aconteceu aqui?” she asked. (What happened here?)

“Não sabemos…” Craft stated, “Houve uma explosão de luz azul e então corremos,” (We don’t know… there was a burst of blue light and then we ran,)

“Era a luz de um herói?” (Was it the light of a hero?)

“ I believe Bolas are planning something,” 

“Why?”

“Because we saw Cannibal out today-”

“But it’s far too early for him,”

“He was wearing a Bolas mask,”

“So, he left a meeting,”

“Sim,”

“Could you reverse time and see what happened?” Wastelander asked.

“I wish,” Bagi laughed, “My powers only affect me… and I don’t know the exact time the culprit was here, because what if it was a timed thing or something… I have to know the exact time,”

“Ahh…”

“So, there’s a new villain? Or a new vigilante?” 

“We do not need new members of Bolas or Soulfire,” Bagi complained, “Okay… here is what we are going to do, Craft you are going to stay here, find evidence, I’ll send Etoiles out to help you, Wastelander you are going home-”

“What? Why?” 

“You said you had roommates and that you live in Favela, well we are in Favela, see if they know anything, anything at all,”

“They’ll be asleep right now, or at least they should be…”

“Shit… okay- go back to headquarters and research different powers that give off a blue glow,”

“Okay,”

“And what are you going to do?” Craft asked.

“Interrogate Bolas and Soulfire,”

Bagi searched the city for any member of Bolas or even Soulfire, they were to blame for this, right? They had to be. They were both criminals, despite Soulfire thinking they were doing the right thing. They were all dirty criminals who made her job ten times more difficult. She rolled her eyes as she came across the vigilante known as Halo, he was a demon hybrid and a powerful one at that. She knew he had some relation to Cannibal, which meant he could be considered a villain and not just a vigilante. 

“Halo!” she yelled.

“For the last time, I won’t let you arrest me,” he sighed, turning around.

“Did you see the blue light?”

“Yes,”

“Was it you? Was it any member of Soulfire?”

“Oh, you don’t know do you?”

“Well, no… that’s why I’m asking,”

“Interesting…”

“Do you know or not?”

“No, but now I’m curious,”

“Ugh it was a member of Bolas then…”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Well, it’s not a hero, you are saying it’s not a member of Soulfire, so it must be Bolas,”

“What if it’s a civilian?”

“All civilians are in group D,”

“I’m a civilian,”

“You’re a vigilante,”

“But I have a civilian identity, they think I am in group D, you and I both know that I’m not,”

“Fuck…”

“Language,”

“I’ll see you soon Halo,”

“You aren’t going to try to arrest me?”

“No,” she sighed, “Not tonight,”

She flung herself up a building, she may not have super strength or flight, but she had practiced her physical strength over the years, training until she was considered one of the strongest women alive, excluding her powers. Once on the roof, she searched the nearby alleyways for any sign of a villain, only to come up emptyhanded, none appeared to be out that night, something she found very suspicious. 

Step by step she reached the end of the roof, she sat down, legs dangling over the edge. She smiled as the sun set, a bittersweet emotion bubbling in her chest. She missed her siblings, and sure it had been eight years since they passed away, but grief was a strange emotion. 

She had lost her whole family in one night due to the misuse of powers, why would the gods give evil people powers? She didn’t know. But they did, and maybe it’s so people like her can have a job being helpful but she’d rather work as a cashier if it meant people were safe. Maybe she should be chasing after Halo, or seeking out GOAT, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Not tonight. Tears rolled down her cheeks, having damped her eye mask. Losing two parents was difficult, seeing their dead bodies even more so- but losing two siblings as well… that was life laughing in her face being intentionally cruel. Eventually she stood up and jumped from building to building until she reached the edge of Favela, the side that bordered 2b2t. She sighed, clutching her hands in an odd way before jumping off the side of a building, she used her powers to pause time, so she fell but she didn’t crash into the ground, instead she gently drifted down before restarting time. 

She walked along the pavement, admiring the sights of Favela, she hadn’t been there since she was young, except for in villain/vigilante fights and well… that didn’t matter. The last time she had been there was when she was seventeen, and now she was well twenty. She walked through the parks, until she reached the cemetery, the specific one remembering the Favela incident. She walked through until she reached her parent’s graves. She sat down beside them, and began playing with the bouquet of flowers left by someone… Neither Cellbit nor Toby had graves here, despite them having died, but she could understand why, they likely died in hospital or something, later on opposed to during the actual event. A stray tear fell down her face, she hadn’t missed them in ages, why the fuck was she crying now. A sob escaped her lips, and then she just let it all out. It was a random fucking Monday, the date of their death wasn’t for another two months, their birthdays weren’t near, why was she so upset. 

A hand rested on her shoulder, she didn’t look up, she didn’t have to, not to know that it was Etoiles. Eventually he decided to sit down beside her. She rested her head on his shoulder, he was a good friend, always willing to help others, whether they needed physical contact, hugs, to calm down, or words of comfort, he was always there. 

“I thought I might find you here…” he admitted.

“I haven’t been here since I was seventeen,” she laughed, tears still falling.

“You haven’t had the time to think about them… and you were supposed to have the day off today-”

“Well Quesadilla island never takes a day off so nor do I,”

“Bagi,” he sighed.

“Etoiles,”

“I care about you, okay? Look after yourself,”

The two sat in silence for a little while, still pressed together, Bagi still crying, but it was nice, peaceful and comfortable. Whilst both Bagi and Etoiles knew each other’s names they did not know each other’s faces, which is why Bagi’s eyes widened as Etoiles took off his face covering.

“Etoiles-”

“It’s fine Bagi, I trust you,”

“My brothers aren’t buried here,”

“They aren’t?”

“No, I haven’t been able to find graves with their names… but there is no living version of either of them in our systems,”

“What were their names?”

“Cellbit and Toby,”

“Come on, let’s get you home, it’s getting late and it’s cold,”

“Okay,” she laughed, “Let’s go,”

The next day Bagi had an odd feeling, like something was going to go drastically wrong. No villains, aside from Cannibal, made an appearance the previous night, which was oddly early for the criminal, and he didn’t even commit a crime. She had called all the heroes early, at around six in the evening to prepare… well all except Spiderman, who had a date, and Wastelander, who had his cover to maintain. She paced around the training room, anxiety pooling in her chest, something was wrong. 

“Cucuruchito!” She called the AI, “Quais são as tarefas mais recentes concluídas pelos heróis?” (What are the most recent tasks completed by the heroes?)

“O treinamento do herói Wastelander foi concluído há duas semanas,” (Wastelander hero training was completed two weeks ago,)

“Mais recentemente,” (More recently)

“Os heróis Cucurucho e Elena garantiram algumas armas há dois dias,” (The heroes Cucurucho and Elena secured some weapons two days ago,)

“Mais informações,” (More information)

“Há dois dias, no dia 18 de março, Hero Cucurucho, de nome civil Osito, e Elena, obtiveram várias armas de destruição em massa de um armazém no distrito de Fobo,” (Two days ago, on March 18, Hero Cucurucho, whose civilian name was Osito, and Elena, obtained several weapons of mass destruction from a warehouse in the Fobo district,)

“Que tipos de armas?” (What types of weapons?)

“You shouldn’t use the AI that much,” Cucurucho interrupted, “Cucuruchito dismissed,”

“Yes sir,” the AI shut down.

“I just wanted to know, what’s the harm in that?”

“You’ll get concerned… besides they are being destroyed soon,”

“They are?”

“Yes,” 

“Okay… okay,”

“Why did you call all the heroes here early?”

“I have a bad feeling…”

“A feeling? Bagi, do we need to refer you to the therapist again?”

“No, no, it’s because Craft confirmed that there was a Bolas meeting last night and then none of the villains committed any crimes and then there was a blue explosion of light and-”

“I get it Bagi,”

It was always weird when Cucurucho or Elena used her real name, but they had known her whilst she was in the hero academy. Elena had even met her before she was fostered and had offered her a place in the hero academy. She was eternally grateful for Elena, and Cucurucho to some extent but it was still weird them calling her by her name and not her hero alias. 

“Can you gather everyone in meeting room one?”

“Except for Spiderman and Wastelander?”

“Sim, they have excuses,”

“A date and secret identity are hardly excuses,”

“How do you-”

“I know everything Bagi, I own the Federation and therefore I own GGN,”

“Okay…” she sighed.

Cucurucho left the room and as soon as he did she kicked one of the dummies. It crashed into the wall, its face cracking from the power. She didn’t have super strength but she had been training as a hero since she was fourteen, and six years of training meant she was strong. She had a gut feeling in her chest that something was wrong regarding the weapons… but Cucurucho would interrupt her again, or code the AI to not answer her questions. 

Once everyone had been briefed on the potential attack, and Wastelander and Spider had arrived, Bagi relaxed, it was a relief to have everyone aware. She called a select group of heroes to follow her, consisting of Spiderman, Wastelander and Craft. They walked into the storage room at the top of the building. She felt the building shake a few times, and a gut feeling clawed at her, but she ignored it. The heroes were rambling amongst themselves.

Bagi’s watch beeped, a notification informing her of an attack. Everyone else jumped, highly alert. 

“I’m still confused as to why you called us here early-” Craft began speaking

“We need to go,” she said. 

“I’m gonna stay here…” Spiderman said, “I think it’s best if we protect from all angles,”

“Agreed, Craft, Wastelander come with me,”

They ran down the stairs, Craft having stopped on the laboratory floor, Wastelander on the training floor. She ran into the offices, she had an odd feeling that either Duck or Bluebird would be on this level, trying to search through plans. She sighed, and took a dagger from her belt, although she would never kill them, she wasn’t afraid to hurt them.

She walked around the desks carefully, eventually spotting both the villains, exactly where she expected them to be. She sighed, they were very predictable, was this their goal? Steal plans because if so that would fail as their plans only corresponded to actions that the villains did in the first place. She froze time, right as an explosion shattered the windows. She cursed as a shard cut her skin, but no blood ran through, her blood technically having stopped its course, but had no negative effects on her. She grabbed some handcuffs that she kept on herself and cuffed BlueBird to a desk. She didn’t however have another pair so she grabbed Duck’s arms and pinned her down on the ground, before replaying time. 

“HEY! WHAT THE FUCK?” BlueBird cursed.

“Connard…” Duck sighed. 

“You are under arrest,” Bagi stated, struggling against Duck.

“Duck, get out of here, I’ll be okay,” BlueBird said.

“What? No- I’m not leaving you-”

“I’ll be fine…”

“They’ll send you off to prison,”

“Then break me out,”

“Both of you will be going to prison-” Bagi grunted.

Duck shoved her elbow into Bagi’s gut. Momentarily winding her. She took a deep breath, and tried to keep her grip on the villain. She, however, was flung onto a desk, it crashing beneath her. Whilst she lay there, Duck immediately began trying to undo BlueBird’s handcuffs.

“Duck! She can freeze time, just leave before you can catch you,”

“But I-”

“GO!”

Before Bagi knew it, it was only her and BlueBird left in the room. Bagi grunted as she rose to her feet, standing in front of the criminal as the building shook, she hoped that it would all stop soon. BlueBird, a being with blue wings, sat in front of her with a nasty look, almost as if she were unimpressed by her own capture. Eventually the fighting ceased and other heroes joined her in the, now partially destroyed, offices, mainly used for paperwork. Everyone stood around waiting for Bagi to pull off BlueBird's mask and uncover the criminal’s identity. 

“Are you going to do it, or shall I?” Etoiles asked.

Bagi grabbed the gas mask, unclipped it at the back and pulled it off of the woman’s head. A gasp was heard from the heroes. Spiderman?

“Jaiden?”

“Roier?” she asked.

“You are a villain?”

“You are a hero?”

“But that means the guy you set me up on a date with-”

“Uh… shit,”

“Guys, I may have a way to catch another Bolas member,”

Chapter Text

Tubbo lay on the sofa, resting his head in Pac’s lap as he played with his hair. The two had a sibling-like bond, constant teasing yet a lot of affection. They hadn’t turned on a movie… not without Fit, and Pac’s sweet and sour chicken had gone cold on the table in front of them. Fit was probably mad about them refusing health insurance, which was fair, he was trying to help them, but there wasn’t really much they could do.

“Why didn’t you want to be on Fit’s health insurance?” Pac asked suddenly.

“Uh… I ran away from my orphanage… they’ll come and find me,”

“You and I both know that they won’t… so what’s the real reason?”

“I’m legally dead,” Tubbo spat, wanting the words to disappear as soon as he had said them, “You're legally missing, Fit’s legally alive, but I’m legally dead, I pretended to be sick before I escaped… they assumed I had died, a few days later my name was wiped from any legal system,”

“Oh…” Pac sighed, “So is Tubbo Underscore even your real name?”

Tubbo remained silent. Pac was onto him, but he couldn’t find it within himself to lie, to pretend that he was Tubbo Underscore and not Toby Lange…

“Tubbo?”

“Sim, okay, I am not Tubbo Underscore, he doesn’t exist, if I got health insurance there would be no record of me,”

“O QUÊ? ENTÃO QUAL É O SEU NOME?” (WHAT? SO, WHAT 'S YOUR NAME?)

“Isso eu não posso te contar…” (I can't tell you that…)

“Wait? Since when could you speak Portuguese?”

“Uh…” Tubbo cursed internally, he messed up so quickly.

“Were you involved in the Favela accident?”

“Woah Pac, this is a lot of questions at once…”

“Answer one, please, just one,”

“Yes… I was involved in the Favela incident, I was born in Favela and I grew up speaking Portuguese, no I can’t tell you my name, I am legally dead, so there is no point,”

“Would it make it any easier if I told you my name isn’t Pac Tazer?”

“What? I mean... I know you used to be a criminal but you changed your name?”

“It’s Pequi TazerCraft,”

“Huh?”

“Yeah… Mikey and I are brothers so we share the same surname… and well, Pac is a nickname for Pequi,”

“Toby Lange,”

“Nice to meet you,” Pac teased, extending his hand for Tubbo to shake.

“You too,” Tubbo laughed, taking Pac’s hand. 

Tubbo went out again, Fit hadn’t returned home and Pac was sleeping in the bed, so he could contemplate what the fuck had happened the other day. He wore a mask over his face… a simple one, he didn’t want to be caught as the guy who exploded the car park the other day. His skin still glowed blue… it was duller than before and hard to notice unless you were looking but he had a force field and that was sick. He had the ability to protect himself and potentially others, but first he had to control it right?

He tried forcing all his energy into a dome around him. Nothing. He tried holding his hands out in front of him. Nothing. He tried walking into a car. Nothing. Just a bruised knee. Eventually he gave up and walked into a shop. Fit had brought home his signing bonus the day prior and he’d left his wallet at home… so Tubbo was going to buy some stuff, not much, he knew they were broke, but real cheese instead of powdered cheese in their mac and cheese wouldn’t hurt, right? 

He walked into the store, down the aisles trying to find the fridges, the cheese he wanted wasn’t there… so he’d have to settle for cheddar. Pac could even try and make pão de queijo again, last time they had it was a long time ago and they’d all enjoyed it, but then they didn’t have enough money for real cheese again. With Fit’s new job they might be able to have decent food again. Tubbo and Pac had lived in poverty for a while… and whilst Tubbo didn’t mind, he did wish Pac had it better, prison food couldn’t have been good but it was better than starving and well… both Pac and Tubbo had spent days without eating. Once Fit joined their little group they’d been able to afford a new apartment, a new flat, one that didn’t have ratinhos and one that had hot water. Food was still difficult but it would always be for three people who couldn’t get real full-time jobs. None of them had an education, Tubbo didn’t even go to secondary school like both Fit and Pac did. But neither Fit nor Pac had any real qualifications right?

A tear ran down his cheek. Fuck. Cheese. Fucking cheese made him cry. He was being overdramatic. He wondered if Bagi or Cellbit, if they were even still alive, experienced poverty or riches. He hoped for the latter, but… growing up in Favela the chances were slim. He opened the fridge and grabbed the cheddar. The packaging was cold in his hands, grounding him, no more crying, he told himself. 

The door opened and a man wearing all black walked inside. He might be like Tubbo, not wanting people to know who he was, so he wore a mask, it didn’t necessarily mean he was going to rob the shop… right? Tubbo had a gut feeling, so he crept around the store… walking to where the cashier was. The man walked through the store, not looking at a single item. The cashier was a young woman, and she looked terrified, but she, like Tubbo, was keeping an eye on the man. He walked up to them, and grumbled something and reached into his back pocket. 

He pulled out a gun. Quesadilla Island needed better gun control laws, Tubbo thought, but it wasn’t the time for that. The gun was pointed at the cashier, and therefore in his general direction too. He couldn’t let the woman get hurt. She didn’t deserve that. 

“Money,” the man demanded.

“I can’t-” the woman said.

The man’s finger flexed as he pulled back the trigger. A gunshot rang out. Tubbo darted in front of her, desperate to make it in time. He had screwed his eyes shut. When he opened his eyes he was welcomed by a world of blue, his skin glowed a deep shade of cobalt, and there was a dome, a force field of protection around both him and the cashier. The bullet had fallen to the floor. This had angered the man, and he kept shooting, bang, bang, bang. Tubbo turned around to face the woman behind him, she was shaking… so was he. She was scared… so was he. 

A flash of blue, lighter than his own, rushed past the window… and then entered the store. Halo. He snuck around the store, Tubbo watched him, hoping the robber wouldn’t spot him. The man seemed to be intent on shooting Tubbo, as he shot the gun about fifty more times, even after all the bullets ran out. Halo grabbed his arm, the arm that held the gun. He punched the robber, who recoiled backwards, into a shelf, which collapsed. Tubbo was glad the person coming to save them wasn’t a hero, he didn’t know if he could cope with their pretentious attitudes but a vigilante, he could deal with that. Halo beat the man up, and when Tubbo said beat, he meant beat, the man was left bloodied and bruised in the corner and yet Halo hadn’t received a single hit on himself, it was art, watching him fight. 

“Hey, are you two alright?” Halo asked.

“Uh…” the woman stutters, “Yeah, because of him-”

“I’m fine,” Tubbo said.

“You can take your force field down now, it’s safe,” 

“I- I don’t know how,”

“You don’t know how?”

“No…”

“Okay… close your eyes and imagine a happy safe place,”

Tubbo closed his eyes, and held them shut. A safe place. A safe place. He could do that. Where was safe? Not his childhood home, that was engulfed in flames. Not the orphanage. Not the streets. Not his old flat with the ratinhos. 

Lying on Fit and Pac’s laps. In their new flat. The first week they had heating, laughing over Chinese food. Pac leaned into Fit’s side, Fit wrapping his arm around Pac, his other hand wrapped in Tubbo’s hair. That was safe- That might be the only time he’s ever felt safe… Suddenly he felt tired, exhausted, like he could fall asleep in their arms-

Cold, hard tiles collided with his body, sending a spike of pain through his back. He groaned, pain aching throughout his body, surely only the part that collided with the ground should hurt.

“Okay buddy,” Halo said, “We are going to get you out of here, and to you miss, you might want to close up for the night,”

“Yes, I will thank you, and thank you sir,”

Halo flung his arm around his neck, and put his own arm around Tubbo’s waist. He carried Tubbo out of the store, the cheese still in his hand, into the nearest alley. Tubbo just let himself be moved by the older man, he had no energy to fight back anyway. 

“Are you okay?” Halo asked.

“Perfect,” Tubbo lied.

“Okay… let me rephrase, you aren’t okay,”

“No shit Sherlock,”

“Language,”

“Did you seriously just say language?”

“Yes, now… um- How long have you known about your powers,”

“Today was confirmation, but um… two days ago-”

“You were the car park explosion weren’t you?”

“Yes,” Tubbo admitted.

“Okay… your power could be really useful and uh- I’m offering to be your mentor,”

“Halo? Halo is offering to be my mentor,”

“Yes,” Halo laughed, “I just- I can’t let the villains get to you first-”

“Or the heroes,”

“Exactly, wait what- do you not like the heroes?”

“Those fuckers- sorry, no hell no, they kill and claim it’s for the greater good, who decides that?”

“I knew it would be a good idea, so what do you say?”

“I’m in,”

Fit sat in the living room, the television turned off, Pac nowhere to be seen. Tubbo cursed under his breath when he realised he’d been caught. Fit stood up and turned to face him, Tubbo sighed and walked towards the older man. 

“Before you-”

Tubbo was crushed into a hug. Which was concerning because Fit EmCee hated hugs and physical affection, except from Pac, and well who could blame him, Tubbo was the same, Pac tended to be the outlier to their rules/boundaries. Tubbo wrapped his arms around Fit, and held him back, unsure of where this was going but sometimes people needed to be held. 

“I know I have no right to question you but… were you safe?” Fit asked.

“Yeah, I was safe-”

“Good,”

“Any reason for the hug bossman?”

“I was worried, and well… Pac’s dead asleep and I doubt you would have told him-”

“Nah I went to the shops to buy some real cheese, I stole your wallet, hope you don’t mind,”

“As long as you are safe I don’t care about some fucking cheddar,”

“Anyways,” Tubbo began, pulling away from the hug, “How was work?”

“Tiring,”

“Lots to clean up?”

“You wouldn’t believe it,” Fit laughed.

Tubbo watched as Fit walked into the kitchen and got him a glass of water, coaxing him to sit on the sofa. Had some big event happened and Fit thought he’d be harmed? Gods above he’d feel so guilty if Fit thought he was dead. Eventually he sat by Fit, laying on the man slightly as he drank the water Fit had got him. Whilst Tubbo and Pac had a sibling-like bond, Tubbo and Fit had a parent-child like bond. Fit always made sure he was safe, fed and warm, and upon learning Tubbo’s age when they first met, was horrified that a child was living in their shitty old flat, so Tubbo became his priority, however Fit and Pac definitely had some romantic tension going on.

The next day, Tubbo had an evening shift, so he didn’t have to wake up early. Fit worked evenings every night and Pac worked from home. So, they all got to spend a little bit of time together. Tubbo opened the fridge, expecting to see it nearly empty, only to be surprised with a nearly full fridge, and by full he meant full from a person who has starved themself to keep heat on’s perspective, it wasn’t actually nearly full, it just had multiple choices for food. 

“We have food?” Tubbo questioned.

“Of course we do,” Pac muttered, unlocking his laptop to begin working.

“No, I mean we have options, like orange juice and apple juice, strawberries and raspberries,”

“Oh yeah, I brought groceries,” Fit said nonchalantly.

“With what money?” Pac asked.

“My new job,”

“Surely they haven’t paid you after two shifts,” Tubbo commented.

“No, but the starting bonus was a lot,”

Tubbo took the strawberries out of the fridge and began cutting some up, splitting it equally between three bowls, one for Pac, one for Fit and one for him. A three-way split. Three people. Three children- No Bagi and Cellbit were dead. Long gone. In the grave… except they had no graves, maybe they were- no they were dead. Dead. Gone. Deceased. However you wanted to phrase it, they were. 

He handed Pac a bowl as he passed through their kitchen, and walked over to hand Fit one, whilst the man stayed on the sofa. He knew Pac was thinking exactly what he was thinking… or at least something similar. They’d never had the money for extra groceries, only the stuff for carefully planned out meals to the specific calorie so they wouldn’t die… and well they nearly did. 

Weeks and weeks without food, weeks and weeks without heating, and weeks and weeks without shelter. They’d barely survived the winters when they were on the streets… and well when they first met Fit, he barely did too. Fit was an army veteran, spit out by the system as soon as he lost a limb, given no help, only with Pac and Tubbo to help. They found him sleeping on the street, slowly dying of hypothermia. They dragged him inside their home, which wasn’t much better than the outside considering it had no heating and had the same amount of germs due to the ratinhos. They’d given him all the money they had saved, which had been for about a year of saving, to get him a doctor's appointment for a prosthetic limb. Fit begged to pay them back and well… that’s how they became friends.

Fit turned the tv on, and whilst they technically didn’t have a tv licence, it wasn’t too hard to connect the wires to a channel, specifically the news. 

“Today marks the three-year anniversary of the disappearance of Pequi TazerCraft, an escaped convict from Alcatraz, his brother, Mike TazerCraft was found and had restored his life, now working for the heroes as a mechanic, if you see Pequi please report him to the hero committee and not the police, he could be very dangerous,” the news said.

A picture of Pac flashed on screen. A younger version. A scared version. A criminal version. He was fifteen in that photo, he was imprisoned from 15 till he was 17, and he met Tubbo when he was freshly escaped and took him in, protecting the younger boy from the weather whilst they struggled on the streets. Fit looked up at Pac, then back at the screen, then back at Pac. Pac was frozen like a deer in headlights. Tubbo grabbed Pac’s wrist, snapping him back to reality. 

“Pac?” Fit asked.

“Sim…” Pac admitted, before Fit had even asked the question.

“Are you- You look similar to- No, that guy Pequi TazerCraft looks a lot like you-”

“It is me Fitche, I am Pequi TazerCraft,”

“So that’s why you don’t leave the house,”

“Eu- Uh- Erm, Tubbo me ajude, eu não sei como explicar sem que ele fique bravo,” (I- Uh- Erm, Tubbo help me, I don't know how to explain without him getting mad,)

“Fit… Pac didn’t have any choice?”

“Of course he’d have a choice, everyone has a choice,”

“Because dying or stealing is much of a choice,” Pac mumbled sarcastically.

“What?”

“It was steal or die,”

“Stealing is not enough to get you sent to Alcatraz,”

“It is when you steal from banks…”

“WHAT? You robbed banks?”

“Sim…”

“I’m leaving, I’m going to cool off my head or something, I’ll be back after work-”

“You don’t start work for another seven hours-” the door slammed, cutting Tubbo off.

Pac was sad, that much was easy to tell. Tubbo had known the man long enough. He went into depressive phases, where he didn’t take care of himself, and just stayed in bed, or back when they were on the streets the cardboard they slept on, and wouldn’t move for days. Only Pac couldn’t do that. They had a router for who slept in the bed, and whilst Pac did have extra days due to his leg, and not having a prosthetic, he still slept on the sofa too, and that night was his night. He just lay on the sofa, and Tubbo felt guilty for having to leave him to work. 

Tubbo arrived at work in uniform, confused when the tables had chairs stacked on them, with Bad inside taking them off the tables and setting up. This was the late shift, everything should be set up already… Jaiden was scheduled alone that day, she owned the cafe, why wasn’t she there. Thankfully Bad had a key, Tubbo didn’t, not yet, he walked inside, waved to Bad and began helping to set up. 

“Where’s Jaiden?” Tubbo asked.

“I- I don’t know,” Bad answered, “She’s been M.I.A for hours, wouldn’t answer her phone,”

“Hm… so the cafe has been shut all day?”

“Yep, for eight hours,”

“Shit…”

“Language,”

Language. Halo said Language last night. Bad was a similar build to him and- no. Bad was not Halo. He couldn’t be, Bad wouldn’t hurt anyone not even for the greater good, he saw the way the man interacted with children, he couldn’t possibly be an illegal vigilante, that’s not possible. No. Bad wouldn’t commit the crime of being an illegal vigilante.

“Sorry… anyways you ready for angry customers?”

“Ugh, no,” Bad complained, “But we have to, I’ll try to contact Jaiden after,”

The two began their daily routine, only for both the early shift and the late shift, Tubbo was going to try and leave early to get ready for his meeting with Halo, but he felt bad doing that to Bad, so he was going to stay, especially after that. He wondered where Jaiden was. He hoped she was safe; he liked Jaiden, she gave him a job despite him technically being too young to work at the cafe. The rules stated were only workers 18+ because they did sell alcohol, only in the evenings, but she allowed him to. 

He got into his routine, zoning out whilst working perfectly, sure he’d burn himself on the coffee machine a few times, but that just shocked him out of his state. Bad looked at him, slightly concerned but kept going. Tubbo kept sending Bad all the customers who were complaining, and Bad took them. The man didn’t like Tubbo receiving verbal abuse, and whilst he didn’t like it himself, he always took it. Bad would gladly take verbal abuse and let the literal child have nice customers. After the fifth time Tubbo burnt himself, Bad raised an eyebrow, a silent question, asking if he was okay. Tubbo just nodded and turned back to the customer, handing over the caramel latte. 

Eventually they closed the shop, after their eight-hour shift, ending at ten pm. They began wiping the tables down and stacking the chairs on them. Tubbo glanced at the shift list, Jaiden was on the early again the next day. He pointed it out to Bad, who said he’d walk by in the morning and see if she was there, if not he’d shoot Tubbo or one of the other employees a text and they would cover her. Both of them were getting increasingly concerned about her, she hadn’t responded to any texts in eight hours and well she normally responded straight away, even in the early hours of the morning. 

Tubbo wiped the coffee machine down. He sighed, and a tear fell down his cheek. Nothing in his life was normal. Not anymore. He got powers. Fit found out about Pac’s past. Jaiden was- is missing. Why couldn’t life be normal? Why couldn’t he have a routine, a schedule that didn’t change. Why did the Favela incident have to happen? If it hadn’t he would have a sister, a brother, a mother, a father, maybe an education and a solid job, instead he- instead he had poverty, instead he had trauma, instead he had become a failure. 

“Are you okay Tubbo?”

“Yeah…” he sighed, tears still running down his face.

Bad wrapped his arms around Tubbo, and that was all it took, he began sobbing in the older man’s arms. Bad was a parental figure, to pretty much everyone he knew, and well Tubbo didn’t have parents. Bad was always put on shifts with him, because Bad would protect him. Tubbo shook within his arms, sobbing uncontrollably. Bad whispered into his hair, trying to calm him down, trying to get him to breathe.

“Thanks,” he sniffled.

“It’s okay Tubbo,” Bad said, “It’s okay, it’ll all be okay,”

“I-”

“You don’t need to explain yourself, go home, get some rest and I’ll see you tomorrow,”

“Okay…”

Tubbo picked up his bag, took his apron off, and ran home. He crossed the roads without looking, he didn’t really care anymore, the rain sticking his clothes to his skin, but also concealing the tears that stained his face. If Fit and Pac- No. He- He couldn’t choose. Not between them. 

Pac. He’d known for three years. They’d survived together through thick and thin. Pac was his older brother, the closest thing he’d ever have to one. Pac was his everything, his safety, his friend. 

Fit. He’d known Fit for less time. Fit had a stable job, had forced him to take care of himself. Fit was a mix, between a father figure and an older brother, perhaps a brother forced to grow up too soon. Fit was his everything, his safety, his friend. 

He couldn’t choose between them. He never would be able to, but he couldn’t survive on his own. He nearly died from attempting that. Maybe Halo would take him in- No. Halo wouldn’t. They’d just met and that would be weird. He’d just have to hope, and pray that the two overcome their argument, besides Fit said he was clearing his head, not that he was leaving, he had a good heart, he wouldn’t leave the two to fend for themselves… but if he called the police- or the heroes, Tubbo would be forced to pick. Safety and security with Fit, but no Pac, no love, no late-night conversations. Or. Running and scared with Pac, but no Fit, no broken morals, no self-hatred. 

“Pac?” he called as he entered the apartment.

“Sim,” a voice croaked out.

“I’m back… but I’ll be leaving again soon,”

“Por quê? Você também vai me deixar? (Why? Are you going to leave me too?)

“NÃO! Não... Eu só... Jaiden desapareceu, Bad e eu vamos ao apartamento dela procurá-la, então, se ela não estiver lá, provavelmente a polícia ou algo assim...” (NO! No... I just... Jaiden disappeared, Bad and I are going to her flat to look for her, so if she's not there, probably the police or something…)

“Você? Você vai à polícia, alguém sem identidade?” (You? You are going to the police, someone without an identity?)

“Sim,” Tubbo sighed, “Mas Bad fará o relatório, mas somente se ela não estiver em seu apartamento,” (But Bad will make the report, but only if she is not in her flat,)

“I hope she’s there,”

“Me too,”

Chapter Text

Cellbit dropped the weapon on the table, and all the villains jumped. They were all shocked that he was dropping such a thing with no care for it exploding, only to look upon it and realise something was strange. Finding the vial had been confusing, he’d looked in all the crates trying to find the weapon labelled as A-36, the identification Philza had forced him to memorise beforehand. Spiderman had even helped him search for it. 

“It’s a vial of blood?” Totem asked.

“Where’s Bluebird?” Vegetta asked, looking around the room for the villain.

Duck looked away, refusing to meet any of their gazes. Cellbit noticed this immediately but nobody else did, nobody but Phil. The older man ushered everyone out of the room, but Cellbit stayed, refusing to budge. Philza nodded, allowing him to stay. Duck stayed and sat in her chair, Baghera was shaking, fear in her eyes as she removed her mask to face the two of them.

“Sargent- she- she got Bluebird,”

“How?” Philza asked.

“She froze time… and handcuffed her to a desk, I tried to save her but she begged me to leave,”

“Merda-” Cellbit cursed.

Cellbit collapsed into his sofa. His villain clothes still on, holding his sweat against his skin, sticking slightly. That day had been so stressful, first he had a date, which went well and he was excited to see Roier again, he was genuinely interested in the man. Beside him his phone buzzed and he wondered who was texting him so late, probably Philza.

Unknown : Hey, this is Roier, I really enjoyed our date and would like to go on another one

Roier? Roier had texted him? But how? Their date ended and Jaiden was already at the Bolas base. She never took her phone to work, too cautious so she wouldn’t get tracked or stalked. So… that would mean- não. Não. Roier was a hero. It was the only way- And he knew Cellbit was a villain. Merda. What could he do? Should he even respond? He didn’t know. Should he inform Philza? Everything had gone to shit in one day, less than twenty-four hours. 

He just wanted to be held, maybe by Bagi, maybe by Toby, in that pile of limbs that the three used to fall asleep in, only that was eight years ago… he wasn’t twelve anymore, he was twenty and he would have to get his act together. The Favela incident really fucked up his life. He swallowed. 

Roier was a hero. Which hero? He couldn’t be Wastelander, he didn’t have the build for that, nor Craft, but that was because Craft was Mike. Couldn’t be Sargent or Iron Lady, they were both women. Couldn’t be Etoiles or ElQuackity as their identities were public. So, he had to be Spiderman, Scribe, Ghost, General, or DJ. He had a clawing feeling in his chest that he was Spiderman, the hero he had fought so many times, trying to kill. Merda. He- he couldn’t kill him anymore. But what if Roier wasn’t Spiderman? What if he wasn’t even a hero?

Eventually he decided to text back. He could try to play this situation, maybe manipulate Roier into getting Jaiden back, and then they could avoid him. Cellbit’s identity was complicated. In prison he was known as Cell, and on his lease he was known as Bit, his neighbours and everyone who knew his ‘identity’, except for Philza and Baghera… and well now Roier and Jaiden, thought his real name was Bit. Cellbit was dead, yet alive. Cellbit died. Then Cell lived. Then Cell died. Then Bit lived. Yet he, to anyone he truly trusted, would still be Cellbit. 

Cellbit : Hey Roier! I’m glad you want to hang out again, I really enjoyed myself, are you free tomorrow? There’s this bar I’d love to take you to.

Roier : Sure! I’d love to go

Cellbit swallowed. He could be arrested. His plan was risky. But necessary. Informing Bolas wasn't necessary. Bolas was formed for emergencies; this was not an emergency. 

Cellbit put on a nice shirt, and trousers, grabbed his keys and walked out the house sighing. He could be arrested. Again. He could go back to Alcatraz. Again. He could- He would not become Cell again. He refused. Never again. The taste of blood when he bit his tongue was enough to make him wince, he would never revert to cannibalism again, yet being nicknamed Cannibal didn’t help. He never chose his name. Civilians and heroes did. No villain chose their name. Bluebird was a blue bird hybrid, CrowFather was a crow hybrid, Totem was immortal, every villain got their name from their abilities or some big event. They never chose. Cellbit would choose any other name. He had cried when he was first given the name, trauma had hit him like a truck but he had moved on, and had learnt how to respond to the name. 

He sat at a table in the bar, waiting for Roier- for Spiderman. Maybe he’d be arrested, maybe he wouldn’t be. He sat down and watched the door, waiting for the man to enter. He had ordered beers for the both of them, hoping that Roier would like it. They could at least enjoy themselves before Cellbit was arrested. 

He watched as the familiar man entered with a smile on his face. Cellbit smiled and waved at him, receiving a smile back. Roier sat down opposite him and smiled at the beer. 

“Gracias,” he thanked.

“De nada, so… how are you?”

“I’m alright… how are you?”

“I’m okay thanks…”

Roier seemed hyperaware of Cellbit’s every move, every flinch and every word. Cellbit took note, if he could throw Roier off his scent… obviously he already knew but maybe he could convince Roier that he worked as a cleaner or something? Perhaps it would be futile but perhaps it could be useful. The two carefully danced around each other, not daring to mention Jaiden, or work, or superheroes and villains, but Cellbit couldn’t let Roier know that he knew. He had to come up with a plan in his head… and fast. 

“So, how’s Jaiden? Is she sick, she hasn’t been at work?”

“She’s fine,” Roier mumbled, “Just gone away to visit family, did she not tell you?”

“Não, not that I can remember at least,”

“Hmm… yeah,”

“Roier, are you sure you are okay? If you aren’t enjoying the date you can leave- I won’t be offended… you’ll never have to see me again-”

“NO! No, it’s not like that it’s-”

Bingo. Cellbit had gotten what he wanted. All he had to do was play with Roier’s heartstrings a little… Heroes don’t care about people but themselves, and maybe their immediate family. Roier wanted to date Cellbit, he had admitted it himself last time they went on a date, so… he could make him feel guilty, perhaps even make it so his judgement is clouded, meaning he can escape capture. He’d already escaped Alcatraz once, although that was mainly due to Pac and Mike, and that was the prison most notorious for no escapes, until they came along, and had great defence against powers. 

People were easy to manipulate. They always had been, and always would be. This, for Cellbit, was a blessing and a curse. He’d manipulated many that he didn’t regret, but he had also manipulated others… others like Pac. He really wanted to apologise… but he likely would never get the chance. 

“My boss… the pressure is on and I-”

“Your boss? Where do you work?” Cellbit asked, removing any inkling of information that would reveal that he already knew.

“GGN headquarters…”

“You're a hero?”

“No! No… I uh-”

“What do you do then?”

“I cook, I work at the canteen there,”

“Oh…”

A smile flashed onto Cellbit’s face. Working in a canteen. He knew it was a lie. He wasn’t stupid. He just- It just reminded him of his mother, she used to work in their school’s canteen, before the Favela incident. Roier tilted his head and smiled, silently asking why Cellbit had that reaction. Cellbit wished they could have worked out. A hero and a villain? No way in hell would that ever work out, but Roier was sweet, and nice and he genuinely seemed to care when they were on their first date. 

Roier. His mother. What a comparison to make. Kindness in both their eyes. Genuine care. A feeling weighed heavy on his chest, yet he wasn’t quite sure what emotion it was- whether it was good or bad or neutral. 

The date continued and actually went well, Cellbit forgot that Roier was- was a hero. The thought was bitter, like a lemon but maybe… maybe it could be a lemonade, sweet like Roier, all the sour gone, left with a nice taste. Cellbit cringed, it was almost like he could see a future with the man- the other villains would never accept it… Roier would never accept it and worst of all he couldn’t accept it. He was a villain. Roier was a hero. They could never be. He didn’t even know which hero his date was. They had ordered more drinks… and well Cellbit had planned on going at as Cannibal that night, but being intoxicated probably meant that he shouldn’t. Maybe he would just sit on a rooftop, and breathe in the fresh air, and try to think of a way to save Jaiden. 

The date ended. He walked Roier back to ‘his flat’, Cellbit knew all the heroes got their own flats at GGN headquarters, so he wondered why Roier lived there. He waved goodbye and walked back out of the building… he wasn’t arrested? That was… odd. Had they discovered that he was a villain yet? How did Roier receive Cellbit’s number… unless Jaiden gave it to him before the date and he- and Cellbit was wrong about the entire thing. But no. Cellbit’s gut was never wrong. Roier was a hero. He had to be. Otherwise, what happened with Jaiden didn’t- couldn’t- shouldn’t make sense. 

The wind rushed through his hair, sending a chill down his spine. Wearing his villain clothes and walking into a graveyard to grieve probably wasn’t the best idea, it could get his identity figured out but- but it was worth it. He needed to see his parents. He couldn’t visit Bagi or Toby so… he had to go to his parents.

The night was cold. The cool air bit at his skin, despite most of it being covered. He knelt beside the gravestone. Mr and Mrs Lange. Papai e mamãe. They were parents. They were lovers. They were children… although Cellbit never met any of his grandparents. The two died far too young, Cellbit was twenty then… and they died in their mid-thirties, he had fifteen more years until he was their age- Maybe an early death would come for him too, it seemed to run in the family. Toby literally died at age eight. Bagi at age twelve. They were gone, all of them. 

A tear ran down his cheek. Then another. And another. And another. Fuck. He was crying. A sob clawed its way up from his throat. Life was good. For a day. And then it all went crashing down again, like it always did. He wiped his tears away. He couldn’t cry. He could cry when he was safe, and he wasn’t sure if he ever would be again. Maybe when he died he’d be safe. 

“Put your mask on,” a voice commanded, “I have no intention of learning your identity today,”

Cellbit did as he was commanded, and stood up, walking away from the grave. He’d sensed another person around, likely a hero, although they didn’t normally venture to Favela. He sighed, cracked his knuckles and prepared for a fight.

“Nor do I intend to fight you,” Spiderman said, hopping down off a tree. 

“Then why are you here?” Cellbit grumbled, “Because unless you are going to release Bluebird, I don’t want to hear it,”

“Do you know her identity?”

“No-” Cellbit lied through his teeth, “We have secret identities so if one of us is captured the rest won’t be,”

“Clever…”

“What-”

“What was the weapon?”

“Huh?”

“The weapon that you stole…”

“It was a vial of blood,”

“Have you tested it?”

“Não, not yet, why?”

“I- joder, no puedo creer que esté a punto de decir esto, I believe it may be the DNA of an experiment, of… a family,” (fuck, I can’t believe I am about to say this)

“But only one?”

“The others were lost… destroyed… I think- it’s hard to research with Cucurucho breathing down my neck to arrest you,”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“I- I don’t know, but- I feel like I have to,”

“Have to?”

“Like my spider tingle, it told me to, and well it’s never been wrong before,”

“Never?”

“Never,”

“I’ll get CrowFather to test it as soon as possible,”

“Please, por favor, don’t let them use it if I’m correct,”

“Why?”

“Just don’t, have a good night Cannibal, I hope I’ll see you again soon, perhaps behind bars,”

“In your dreams, menino aranha,” (spider boy)

“It’s hombre araña,” (spider man)

Cellbit continued on his shift, the alcohol having worn off as he didn’t drink much, it was nearing five in the morning. Craft and Wastelander should have finished their shift at two, Sargent, Etoiles and Spiderman should be officially on duty now, and Ghost, Scribe, and ElQuackity would work later and the rest of the heroes should have the day shifts. He doubted Spiderman would attack him that night, the rest of the heroes still would though. 

He swung his legs as he sat on top of a building, debating what to actually do. Sure, he was a villain but he wasn’t a bad person, he wasn’t going to steal from the small shops that relied on every single penny but he would steal from multimillion pound corporations such as the federation. 

A flash of blue and darker blue appeared in his vision. Pac and someone else! Excitement ran through his body, a chance to apologise- only that blue was too much like cyan and the other was too dark to be anyone he knew… it wasn’t him. So, who was it? It looked like Halo… and someone… he wasn’t sure who. Curiosity struck him, he jumped off the building, landing gracefully, he followed the pair, keeping to the shadows. 

Halo has trained him. Before he even went to prison, two weeks after the Favela incident, Halo began training him to survive and well… he wasn’t sure if he’d ever see the man again. Admittedly he had wanted to join Soulfire instead of Bolas but well the opportunity arose to join Bolas and well at the time he wasn’t sure if a) Soulfire would accept him and b) If he’d even be offered a chance with Soulfire. So, he joined Bolas. But he missed Halo, the man was his mentor, and Halo even knew his identity, like his real name, but he doubted that Halo knew that he was Cannibal. 

A young boy, a bit shorter than him, stood beside Halo. He appeared to have a costume already… probably manufactured by Halo himself. The demon did like to protect identities, and children. Cellbit was a child when Halo protected him, this new person was clearly a child too. 

“I know you are there Cannibal,” Halo called.

“Halo,”

“What do you want?” 

“I was interested…”

“In what?”

“Well, there’s someone with you… someone I do not recognise,”

“This is Creation, I’m his mentor, just like I was yours-”

“You-”

“I remember Cannibal but I won’t reveal your identity, despite my disappointment in the path you took,”

“I-”

“You went to prison before I could complete your training,”

“Oh… well-”

“You trained Cannibal?” a voice asked, from the boy next to Halo.

“Yes, when we was a little younger than you,”

“How did you know how old I was?” Cellbit asked.

“I’m a demon hybrid, I know a lot,”

“So, a new member of Soulfire?” Cellbit asked.

“Not yet, but perhaps one day,” Halo grinned.

“I only discovered my powers recently…” the boy admitted.

“The blue blast,” Cellbit whispered.

Halo and Creation nodded. Confirming his suspicions. He’d seen it on the news after his interaction with Craft and Wastelander and ignored it, he hadn’t even thought it could give him a new person to fight, unless Creation would decide to not be a nuisance. He had an odd feeling about the man, but it wasn’t necessarily a bad feeling. He glanced at Creation, then at Halo, then at Creation again. A familiar feeling rushed through his head. Almost as if he knew the man-

“Do I know you?”

“I doubt it,” Creation responded, “I don’t know your civilian identity and you don’t know mine so… there is no way of knowing,”

He was right about that. Cellbit nodded. He wasn’t going to fight Halo, nor Creation, not yet at least, only if they got in his way and right now they weren’t. He wondered what Creation’s powers actually were, because all he knew of was a destructive blue light, not any actual abilities or hybrid form.

Cellbit walked into Bolas headquarters, and began examining the blood under a microscope. It was definitely from someone who had powers, fragments of blue swirled in the blood, his eyes widened at the sight. He couldn’t smell the blood, not trusting himself enough to be around it, he wore nose plugs. He tried using his powers on the blood, to remove all the oxygen to see it without, yet… nothing happened. His powers didn’t work. That was odd. He tried again, focusing on the red blood cells, and the haemoglobin that held the oxygen… nothing, that was impossible- was he losing his powers.

“PORRA!” he screamed.

Nobody was in Bolas headquarters, no-one except Philza, but that’s because Phil lived there, so nobody would hear him, unless Phil had returned from his run early. To Cellbit’s surprise that was exactly what had happened, Philza walked in the room, a look of concern plastered on his face. 

“You okay?”

“My powers aren’t working,”

“WHAT?”

“The blood, I can’t remove the oxygen from it,”

“Is there any oxygen still in it?”

“Sim,”

“Okay… let’s sit you down, and we can test someone else’s powers on the blood because maybe the blood had power-dampening abilities,"

“Yeah… yeah, maybe,”

They called Baghera. She had the ability to control water, and that included blood due to its high-water content. However, her abilities, relating to blood, weren’t as strong as Cellbit’s. She finished fighting with a vigilante and joined them in Bolas headquarters. They locked eyes. She began trying… It worked. The blood flowed around her hand. She smiled, unknowing of the dread pooling in Cellbit’s chest.

“So, why’d I need to control blood? Cellbit is right here,”

“I- can’t,”

“What? Why?”

“My powers aren’t working…”

“Oh…” 

“It’s okay Cellbit, we will get to the bottom of this issue,” Philza reassured.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. If he lost his powers then he could be overpowered by Spiderman or Craft… or any of the other heroes, he was strong sure, but without powers he’d be easily defeated, and how was he supposed to protect those he cared for if he had no powers? How was he supposed to steal and donate money? How was he supposed to live his life?

“I’m going home-”

“What? No, Cellbit we-”

“SHUT UP BAGHERA,” he yelled, “I just- I’m sorry,”

He collapsed onto his sofa, yet again, tears running down his face, staining the cushion, he’d wash it later, but in that moment all he wanted to do was sob, and sob he did. A choked cry rang out, filling his flat. Crying was pathetic. Crying is how you get killed. 

He’d learnt a lot as a child. Firstly, how to survive and how to fight, and how to kill from Halo. He’d learnt how to steal, how to escape, and how to manipulate, more than he could, from Pac. He’d learnt how to be part of a team, how to support others, and how to use his powers properly from Philza. Halo. Pac. Philza. Those three men, he owed everything to. 

Halo. He wouldn’t be alive without. He nearly died several times during that training… and sure he’d eventually started calling the demon ‘papa’ and who could blame him? He was young. Far too young to have lost everyone who cared about him, the demon, Halo, had filled his need to be loved, and whilst Halo likely didn’t love him, he did nurture him, and made sure he stayed alive. 

Pac. The man whose leg he ate. The man he owed a million apologies and some to. Pac had been arrested after Cellbit, having evaded arrest for multiple years but eventually being caught due to some heroes. He was smart, too smart, smarter than Cellbit, although the man would never, ever admit it. He wondered where Pac was? And if he could convince Mike to let him see the man.

Philza. The man who took him in when nobody else would. The man who taught him to use his anger. He was a friend, a father figure and a good man. Philza cared for Bolas, and he wasn’t a true villain, he wanted things for good reasons but went about them in negative ways, just like Cellbit, and well he couldn’t see an issue with that.

He slipped onto his desk and began researching. Researching Mike’s phone number. He scavenged the internet, eventually cross-referencing phone numbers of Mike TazerCraft and Hero Craft. He landed on a number, and sighed before deciding to message. 

Cellbit : Eu sei que você provavelmente vai dizer não, mas tem alguma chance de eu ver o Pac? Quero me desculpar, mesmo que ele não me perdoe. (I know you'll probably say no, but is there any chance I can see Pac? I want to apologize, even if he doesn't forgive me.)

He waited for a while, desperate for a response, checking his phone, searching the internet trying to distract himself, hoping he didn’t get the wrong number, or had text someone else in his contact list, but no he hadn’t. The ticks in the corner turned blue. Mike had seen it. Or someone else, depending on whether he’d gotten the correct number or not. Typing appeared. Then it disappeared. Then it appeared again. Was Mike deleting his messages? Was he overthinking this as much as Cellbit was? Was he asking for Pac’s permission? 

Cellbit squeezed his phone, waiting for a response, waiting for something, anything, even if it was a no. He didn’t deserve to apologise, he knew that, Pac deserved to live without his presence but it might be good for the both of them, Cellbit owed the man so much, and he could never, ever repay that debt, but he could at least attempt to make it better. 

Mike : Não posso, não vejo o Pac desde que escapamos da prisão (I can't, I haven't seen Pac since we escaped from prison)

Cellbit : Que? 

Mike : Nos ofereceram para nos tornarmos heróis em troca de todas as nossas acusações serem retiradas, eu aceitei, ele recusou, não vejo o Pac há alguns anos (We were offered to become heroes in exchange for all our charges being dropped, I accepted, he refused, I haven't seen Pac in a few years)

Cellbit froze. Mike. Pac’s brother. Hadn’t seen him either. But that meant that Pac had been M.I.A for a while, multiple years now, with a missing leg. He made a decision. He’d search for Pac, but not before meeting up with Spiderman.