Chapter Text
As of lately, the weather sucked. There hadn’t been a good storm in ages, only freezing wind and chilly temperatures. This was the first chance of rain in a month, and Stratos planned to make the night his.
Thunder rolled across the sky. Torn between being dark and light, the world was filled with rain, the city being lit up only when bright lightning flashed overhead. Only the sound of thunder and howling wind filled the streets below. Most people had already gone inside and even the rats were searching for a hiding place, but a singular figure walked the city streets, unfazed and striding across the main road with no cars in sight.
Stratos observed the electricity sizzling around his fingertips as it copied the lightning in the sky. He loved dry thunderstorms – lightning without rain, the perfect time to let his powers run wild with no annoying rain obscuring his view. Tonight, he was aiming for the bank. His dayjob only paid so much, and if he had to miss out on his favorite tea for lack of cash once more, he’d go crazy. It wasn’t a creative choice but a plausible one and so he walked, eyes hidden behind a mask and the Stratos suit smugly hugging his skin.
Suddenly, footsteps behind him made Stratos freeze. He drove around, powers already at the ready, but his shoulders sagged when he saw exactly whom he was dealing with.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he groaned, lowering his hands. “It’s you again?”
Of course it was him. Fighting Etho always sucked – he was stuck-up and a nerd and perhaps the most annoying card the town’s Hero Agency had up their sleeve. By what seemed like pure misfortune, Stratos had to deal with him the last three times in a row. When he was assigned HotGuy they could at least joke about it later, but someone like Etho who didn’t care enough to get himself a good alias? Absolutely impossible to make small talk with. That guy had ruined a good night of crime more than once in the past, and it looked like he was about to do it again.
Etho dared to roll his eyes, that bastard. He was in the same old clothes as always – dark boots, dark pants, fingerless gloves too-tight black shirt that looked shitty on him. A black mask rested over his mouth and nose to obscure most of his face, but a headband holding his almost white hair back gave Stratos a clear look at his mismatched eyes. One so dark it seemed black, the other red and paired with a nasty scar, both staring right at Stratos with a familiar ferocity.
“Your annoyance is not needed,” Etho said, voice stern and without emotion. Stratos figured Etho thought he sounded cool when he used overly complicated sentences. “Given that I have won the last few times around, I’ve been assigned to take care of you.”
“You’re on babysitting duty?” Stratos snorted, despite himself. “Lame. Quick, your mysterious aura is disappearing, do something.” He leaned forward and grinned. “That’s the funniest thing I’ve ever heard. You, the high-and-mighty Etho, for a lowly civilian like me? I’m not even doing anything Villain-y, I’m just on a nice walk.”
Etho’s eyes darkened as they flickered down to the stark white Stratos outfit. Black and white, they were. “You’re walking straight towards the bank and have been doing so for give last fifteen minutes. A very unusual walk, if I say do so myself.”
“You’ve been watching me?”
The words came out shaky and Stratos dearly hoped his dread didn’t show. Shit, he’d been too distracted. The Heroes had never surveilled him before, not even HotGuy knew more than what he had told him himself. He couldn’t- what if he led Etho and the whole Superhero team to his house next time? “Don’t do that.”
“I’m not the one to control that.”
Etho stepped closer, casually shrugging his shoulders. “As you’ve so eloquently put it, I’m on babysitting duty. You’re not going anywhere without me knowing.”
Stratos didn’t miss that Etho’s gaze dropped down to his hands, where bright blue static had begun to form without him knowing. Etho took another step forward until the two of them were uncomfortably close, so close he could have pulled that stupid black mask down without having to reach far.
“I’m letting you choose. Either walk home now or try your luck at breaking into the bank with me watching.”
Stratos’ furrowed his eyes, lips pressed together in a thin line. Anything but. A silent satisfaction emanated from Etho as he loomed over him, but his lightning was cracking so loud he couldn’t hear it, drowning out every coherent thought in his mind. The mask on Etho’s face moved, signifying he was about to say something else, when Stratos struck.
His fist socked Etho straight in the jaw. A nasty crunch was heard as he stumbled back, hand holding his jaw in shock. Without waiting, Stratos tackled him, arms around Etho’s torso as the two went down. A sharp wince of pain escaped them as Etho’s back hit the ground, Stratos’ own knees burning with pain. Oh, he’d need to learn how to land better.
“What was that for?” Etho coughed, pushing the palms of his hands forward and against Stratos’ chest.
Stratos was flung backwards before he could answer, dragged across the asphalt by an invisible force. Rubble and stones cut through his sleeves and right into his arms, leaving angry red strokes behind. Etho was by his side in a second, kicking him further down the street with an angry grunt.
Everything was spinning in front of Stratos’ eyes, and he tried not to breathe in the dusty ground as he rolled. He feverishly scurried to his legs, though not fast enough for Etho’s next attack. Stratos was still bracing himself when a shockwave from Etho pushed him down again.
His powers.
Stratos summoned a batch of lightning in his hand, hurling it towards Etho as he jumped up. Etho managed to dodge, barely, but when he tried to grab him Stratos gripped his forearm and pulled. Etho stumbled forwards, groaning as Stratos returned the favor of a well-placed kick into his stomach.
“That was low,” Stratos spat, eyes wild with anger. They had some space between them, circling each other like dirty street cats. He didn’t particularly dislike street cats, but Etho and his messy hair and twitching fingers reminded him of a very pathetic one right now.
Just as he was about to say something else, Etho pulled his legs out from under his body with a flick of his wrist. Using his shockwaves, he shoved him down the street, furthering the distance between them. Stratos’ eyes widened as he slammed into a trash can, metal denting under the impact. Alarm bells rang as pain flooded down his body, hot and suddenly everywhere. His right elbow, the one he’d tried to cushion his fall with, was burning especially nastily. Stratos needed to get closer for his electricity to travel over to Etho, and Etho was not letting that happen.
For the hundredth time, Stratos stood up again, limp like a ragdoll. Etho was keeping his distance, but his eye – the dark one, without the scar – was twitching. Stratos held his elbow with his free hand, breathing hard and standing and staring. A throbbing was creeping its way from his arm towards his head. He had maybe two or three strikes left, then that was it. He couldn’t act hasty.
Stratos observed Etho’s movements carefully, all while taking one slow step after the other. There – Etho tensing his arm had given it away. He abruptly raised his palm, but this time, Stratos was prepared.
He dove to the right, side-stepping the telekinesis. Before Etho knew, a few hefty bolts of energy were coming his way. For a second, they were face to face, close enough for their hits to land and their slashes to strike. When they separated, Stratos’ hand was curled around a strand of white hair and his head was throbbing, curtesy of a rather nasty punch against his temple. His opponent didn’t look much better, body surely more bruise than man, though he held his head high in anticipation of his next move.
“The hair pulling was unnecessary,” Etho noted, wiping away blood from the corner of his mouth. A small trickle was making its way downwards from his neck to his collar, and Stratos watched the blood drip. He shifted his weight and shrugged. “Not your thing, then?”
“No,” he snarled. A meaningful silence spread between them, pregnant with the barely suppressed sounds of Stratos giggling. Finally, after his smug smile couldn’t get any broader, Etho realized, eyes wide as dinnerplates. “You know that’s not what I meant!”
Loud laughter erupted from Stratos. “Look at your face! You are so red!” He doubled over with laughter. “Should have seen your face when you-“
He couldn’t finish the sentence. Etho had sent another wave his way, pushing him against a wall, which caused Stratos to let out an ‘oof’ sound. The impact had been enough to knock all the air out of his lungs, but Etho didn’t make any move to attack again, so Stratos decided he could rest for a little while. After a heavy coughing fit, he finally caught his breath enough to shoot Etho an annoyed glance.
“What was that for?”
“You know what,” he answered, very calmly. “You possess the humor of a middle schooler.” Suddenly, he glanced down at his wrist, grimacing at the time. “It’s late. Are you going to try your luck breaking in somewhere or no?”
“Why, you want to get home to Mommy before it’s all spooky and dark out?”
Etho ignored the shit-eating grin on his face as he glared at Stratos, walking towards him in long, heavy strides. “Wise words for a bleeding man.”
“Says you.” He gestured towards Etho’s nose. Etho didn’t bat an eye as he wiped the last traces of blood from his face, wincing as his fingers brushed against his nose. Without the red, his eye looked even brighter against his pale skin. “I don’t have a problem drawing this out. However, if the Hero backup deems you unable to walk, they will have to get you to a station where you can be questioned.”
Stratos coughed again, pushing tufts of brown hair out of his face. Honest, he’d like to have sat down for a little longer (if only to calm his racing heart), but he knew Etho didn’t bluff. His help would surely be on its way. It wouldn’t matter that Stratos hadn’t broken in anywhere, he’d damaged city property by socking that stupid Hero in the jaw, and if he would get questioned about his injuries, the fuckers over at the police station would surely ask about other, more incriminating things as well. So, there was only one option for Stratos – walk away and pretend his everything didn’t hurt like shit.
Etho shot him a satisfied smile as Stratos pushed himself upwards and walked past him. Their shoulders knocked as he passed, sending a bolt of pain down to his elbow. Etho didn’t always let him get away this easily, but despite that Stratos had always managed to escape his grasp. Legally speaking (Grian had taught him this) Heroes weren’t allowed to arrest Villains by themselves, so Etho would either have to restrain him until police came around and do a ton of paperwork or do the opposite of that. Today seemed to be a lazy day for him.
“See you later, then,” Stratos smiled, winking at Etho as he dragged himself away. Etho smiled back, sugar-sweet and unfairly pretty. “I fucking hope not.”
As he turned away from him, a heavy droplet of rain landed on his shoulder.