Chapter Text
It was such a stupid little thing. Smitty never knew what inspired Matt to get artsy one day, but that dumb hat was probably his most prized possession. He wore it everywhere for two years, and the bare threads on the cheap thing showed as much. Matt had stabbed himself at least four times with the needle sewing on it, but he was so proud of himself when he finally finished. Smitty still wasn't sure if the orange blob on the front was a potato or a chicken nugget. He remembered he called it ugly when he first saw it, and then Matt called him ugly, and then they were even.
Smitty hadn't moved it from where it hung off the edge of his cork board for years. He picked it up sometimes to make sure the original bright blue color wouldn't become muted underneath dust. But other than that, it hadn't seen the sun since hanging it up. Sometimes it felt like a disservice. Most times he didn't care. He'd memorized every pale thread, every stain, every broken stitch. He'd memorized how the top of the hat was lighter than the inside from sun damage. He'd memorized the fraying of the velcro and he'd memorized that dumb little smiley face on the blob that Matt had drawn on with a sharpie so he wouldn't have to sew ever again. The hat was like a moment caught in time, and part of him felt like bringing it to the sun would break that illusion. Like those drawn-on sharpie eyes would look around and think what happened to this place? Like they then might turn back at him and ask what happened to you?
Each of the heroes had their own rooms. Comfortable enough yet not quite enough space to not make them feel boxed in sometimes. A bed and a bathroom was all it was; they all shared a kitchen and a couch in the main common area on their residential floor. The others made fun of him sometimes because from the cork board above his desk to his ceiling he had stacked and layered memorabilia from his time as a superhero. Posters, newspaper clippings, letters from civilians. Red, yellow, blue, and his mask dozens of times all staring back down at him. They called him self righteous, and honestly, they were right. That just- wasn't all of it. There was also the element of memory. If ever he was uncertain of who he was, he had the wall to tell him. Starting from the worn blue hat all the way to the photograph taken of him a week ago, midair and chasing a villain.
Just like he had memorized every inch of the hat, he had memorized every inch of the wall. Sometimes Smitty would sit at his desk for hours and just stare at it, trying to define himself. When he didn't know how to be a civilian, he reminded himself that all he had to be was a hero. Follow orders, don't die. Chase danger like a dog after its tail. Thrill was an easy thing to get high on, and then boredom became the real killer. It's why he would spend hours every day staring at pictures of himself like a madman. Smitty hated to be bored. He hated to be quiet. Some days he could hardly go a moment without something loud, something predictable but unpredictable to send enough adrenaline through him to nullify the buzz of anxiety that always sat in his chest.
Now, that's where he stood. Hands braced against his desk, wings fluttering behind him. Staring down the wall and all the past adventures and dangers like they might come back and save him from himself. He knew what he should do. He should go out into the common area and talk to someone. Smitty knew that being around people would cure his issue. They could play a game, or gods forbid even do paperwork together. Anything to avoid the silence. But he felt frozen. He was paralyzed in this waiting. It felt as though he was being stalked, like he was waiting- hoping- for a monster to leap from his closet just for him to fight and have purpose again.
Smitty wasn't sure how long he would have stood there. Wings buzzing every few moments in a vain attempt to dispel his anxiety, back aching vaguely from bending over to grip the desk. Maybe hours, if it weren't for the alarm that went off. Lights flashed in his room, a ringing bell alerting him that he was being called onto the field. Smitty felt like he could breathe again. He felt like himself again, because fuck yes! Here's what I was made for!
He was bursting out of his room in a heartbeat, his wings buzzing to life, lifting him just slightly off the ground to propel him forward. Flying in an arch over the couch, nearly knocking Sovi in the head just for show, and then skidding to a stop landed him in the elevator. Sovi didn't flinch, didn't even turn his head up from his phone, but did look at Smitty over his glasses with an expression so devoid of amusement it was almost impressive. If it weren't Sovi, and Smitty wasn't Smitty, then he would have squirmed uncomfortably. But as it were, he just stared the younger man down with a shit eating grin as the rest of the heroes summoned rushed to the elevator.
Tucker manifested from the shadows, Eli nearly crashed into him, and then they all stood and waited on Flom who honestly looked like he had just woken up despite the fact that it was 4 p.m. Flom made it to the elevator, which snapped shut and dropped them down a floor, from hero residence to the suiting and dispatch area. Well, it was Seven's dispatch area. Being a bug hybrid had its perks.
Wordlessly, each of them dispersed. Each hero was assigned a chamber, built to allow them quick access to their suits, and even quicker automatic help to put them on. Smitty held still as robotic arms donned him his suit with terrifying speed and accuracy. Gray pants over a white shirt that was one piece all the way from his neck to his fingers to his waist. His belt was loaded with the most multiuse weapons out of any of the heroes, his signature throwable spinning blades. Then finally his helmet, an impressive, but frankly quite clunky feat of engineering. A box, essentially, hiding his whole head, with a screen on the front to cast his expressions. It awkwardly pinned down his antennae, but he'd learned to cope with that. In the early days it was just the box, but eventually Smitty asked if they could put a propeller hat on it. Just for fun. So now he had a propeller hat.
The inner mechanisms of the helmet came to life, and he heard the crackle as he was connected to the mission control of the Heroes Association. Finally, he heard the familiar voice of his spotter. "Seven. Come in." Smitty grinned like a maniac for a second at the jump his heart did. That itch for danger, for a moment of excitement, would be scratched. All he knew was that this was the first step to that action he had been craving.
"Seven reporting," he answered. He didn't stop moving the whole time, leaving his suiting chamber and passing the other three. As he did, he heard each of them report to their respective spotters.
"Eclipse reporting."
"Reaper reporting."
"Thundergod reporting."
And while they all went back to the elevator like losers, Smitty hurried to the hanger on the suiting floor, his wings already thrumming. The door that sealed off the suiting area closed behind him, and he waited on bated breath for the hanger door to open. For him to be allowed to take to the sky and fight. He reminded himself to breathe, enough to speak at least. He never panicked in the field, at least not often. But his breathing always got short in the painful moments of waiting. "What's the word?" He knew they would tell him, but he was tired of agonizing patience. He could hear the eye roll.
"You're not going far, but that's not a good thing," they said, and Smitty could imagine them reading over the mission details as they relayed it to him. "Soda Pop and Starcaster were sighted outside of the Research Facility, and are currently fighting the guards there. Communications from the facility have been disabled, but we believe Malware and Leviathan are inside."
Smitty winced. "Right. And that's not good." He heard a bored uh huh from the other line, evidence that they were already used to his shit. "So it's just the four then? No Mockingbird?"
"No, Seven. No sign of Mockingbird."
He waited maybe a little too long before replying "Good." Blue sky filled his vision as the hanger door opened, and the expanse of the city appeared before him. Smitty's feet raised off the ground as his wings began to catch air, and he could feel the vibrations from them throughout his whole body. He felt like a dog on a chain, a dancer behind their curtain before their solo. The chain broke, the music started, and Smitty darted out of the hanger and into the wilds of the city.
The research facility of the Heroes Association was the most mysterious building in the complex. Even Smitty, for all his time here, still didn't quite know what it did. He knew they learned about powers, power distribution, and suppressors. They'd come up with a lot of advice on how to healthily manage powers without overusing them or having them active for too long, for people who didn't have an alternative use for their powers. They'd made great leaps in making stronger suppressors for criminals and the like. Other than that, Smitty wasn't sure what they did or why it was so secretive. But he wasn't here to ask questions. He was just meant to shut up and fight villains, so that's what he did.
Per usual, he arrived first. It was why he was dispatched separately, because he moved faster in air than the rest of the team did on foot. Sometimes he was told to hang back so they could all enter at the same time, but it wasn't the case today, which he couldn't be more thankful for. Soda and Starcaster were outside, but Smitty suspected they were the distraction. They were just a block away, in the streets outside the research facility. Smitty's helmet identified and locked onto them when they were in his view as he came down from the sky.
Starcaster was a shape shifter, though he was limited only to things found in constellations. Now he was in his favorite form, a bear. The research facility was heavily guarded, although it looked like two of the guards were wondering if they were paid enough to run from a huge shape shifting bear in the streets. From a distance, Smitty saw Soda pop into existence, sweeping a leg under one of the guards and causing them to tumble to the ground. Starcaster charged at them, rearing up on his back legs to swipe at them. Smitty abruptly changed his angle, dropping low and quick, and using his momentum to swing around and kick the bear on the side of his head. He heard Starcaster grunt as he was knocked off balance, falling back down to four paws. Smitty hovered above him, unsheathing his two rotating blades.
Then, the bug hybrid felt his powers activate. Every power had either a drawback or a limitation, and his limit was that he had no control over when it happened or what it told him. Yet the familiar calm rushed through him, the knowledge that something was about to go wrong, but that he at least would be safe from it. Hidden under his helmet, his eyes glowed a pale blue. It was like a blanket was laid over him, a warm tingling in his muscles as they prepared themselves, and Smitty tried to predict what was going to happen.
7…
6…
5…
4…
3…
2…
1- and he swung to the side, bringing a knee up into the stomach of Soda Pop, who had teleported in the air, hoping to get a strike on him. The villain squeaked, quickly teleporting again before he crashed into the pavement. Smitty still saw him double over, though. He kicked his feet, pleased with himself because he just knew it would be Soda.
"Oh come on!" Soda shrieked, and Smitty couldn't help but laugh at him. The teleporting villain was a pain in the ass, and normally could hit and run without giving the heroes a chance to react. But because of Smitty's prediction power showing up to protect him from danger, he could almost always counter Soda's attack even when he didn't have the faintest idea where he was coming from.
There was a flash from the ground as Starcaster turned human again, armed with Orion's bow. He took aim, the arrows appearing as if they were cut straight out of the night sky. Smitty knew being hit by one of those hurt like a bitch, and holding the bow made the villain have an unusually good aim. Thankfully, he didn't have to worry. The ground rumbled. His team had arrived.
Soda appeared next to Starcaster, grabbing him and teleporting them both down the street in a swirl of pink. It was lucky, because not a moment later a gargantuan war hammer pounded into the pavement, cracking it and shaking the earth. Smitty heard Eli groan as he followed closely behind Flom. "Thunder! Could you please try to minimize the damage to public property?" he begged.
"What am I supposed to do?! Just stop swinging at villains?" Flom sputtered indignantly in response. Smitty flew lower to join the teasing.
"You're supposed to start hitting the villains, Thunder," he chastised. Flom groaned, but whatever retort he came up with was cut off as the voice of Smitty's spotter came through.
"Eclipse has unlocked the door to the facility. Go in, find Leviathan and Malware, and get them out. Quickly. We don't want them getting anything from there."
Smitty hummed in response, leaving the two other heroes to handle the villains in the streets. He darted towards the mentioned door, and saw Soda Pop racing to stop him. Obviously, they had been tasked with keeping the heroes out. He couldn't help but laugh as Eli hurled a wire at Soda's legs, causing him to trip and delaying him just enough for Smitty to open the door, step into the facility, and shut it tight behind him.
Inside the research facility was- foreboding. All the chaos and fighting in the streets seemed universes away compared to this ghostly space. He let out a small woah as he looked around. Smitty had been in here only twice before. Both were for analysis on his powers and how they worked. It was guided, filled with researchers and scientists all chattering and organized and somewhat lively. But now the place seemed barren. A red light flashed on and off, signifying the panic that had called the heroes here. Yet, the alarm that should be with it was disabled, and there was no evidence of who had called. He felt as though he was walking into a cave that he just knew had a bear lurking inside.
There was a soft hiss as Tucker oozed from the darkness, making the only noise aside from Smitty's breathing and a distant but ever present hum. Surely, Tucker had to love this place. His power was traveling through shadows, able to become one with them, and thus invulnerable until he was caught by a light. Smitty had long since gotten used to it enough to not startle. Tucker motioned to the stairs at the end of the hall. He could see the door now hung ajar, despite the fact that every other door down the hallway was sealed. "They're on the top floor, in the server room. I've unlocked the doors for you. Try not to fuck it up." he said shortly.
Smitty blinked at him. "Thanks for the confidence, Eclipse. Reassuring," he deadpanned. Instead of responding, Tucker simply just vanished again. Wow Tucker, legendary conversationalist. Smitty looked back to the ominous open door, red light pouring from the crack and mingling with the lights in the main hallway. No doubt Tucker was already heading that way. His wings fluttered behind him, and his heart skipped a beat as if it was trying to fast forward to the good part. The meat, where he didn't have to tread through all this tension and he could just sink his teeth in without thinking. He craved that freedom, and it was what drove him down the hall.
Rarely did Smitty touch the ground while he was in the field. Sure, it gave him back aches and wing pain, but the advantage of flying was just too worth it. Yet after he flew up the stairwell, he was forced to be grounded in the main server room. The double door entrance to the server room had one door ominously cracked open as well, and he could hear the hum of fans from within. His dominantly white suit didn't do well to hide him from the darkness, but he knew that somewhere Tucker had his back. The anticipation was here again, coating his joints as he walked straight into the belly of the beast. Somewhere in here lurked the second and third largest threats to the city, and in some perverted way it excited Smitty knowing how much danger he just might be in.
The primal, base level, animal instinct to run from danger wasn't exactly something that could be carved from him. Evidently it could be overshadowed, because he hardly hesitated before entering the hushed room. He was a predator stalking another predator, and he would charge headfirst into teeth and claws just to keep himself from being back to staring down his cork board and wall of posters. Smitty never felt the cold weight of fear anymore, rather just the thrill of wondering when will the tension finally break? Each moment it kicked his heart into a higher gear as he slowly prowled through the isles of server towers. His eyes traced the ground, looking for reflections, and simultaneously cursing the aluminum floor for not hiding his own reflection. Despite knowing he couldn't fly in the confined space, his elytra were still slightly raised in preparation for his wings to flare out from under them. He stalked, waiting for one slip up, one wrong breath, one glance that might give away where the villains were hiding.
In the end, it was those reflective aluminum floors that gave it away. The server room was dark, save for the blinking lights from the towers, but all of those were a cool white. When he saw the tint of deep blue and green, he knew he'd caught Malware. He wasn't sure if he'd been seen yet, but he wasn't actively being attacked, so maybe not. Smitty turned his blades over in his palms, trying to figure out how exactly he was going to do this without bringing serious damage to any of the towers. He inched forward ever so slightly, trying to get a view that wasn't just a reflection. All of that anticipation pounded behind his eyes, leaked through his chest like there was a tree growing in his lungs with a dozen little roots that were slowly constricting him. If something didn't happen soon he feared they may petrify him.
But it was just those inches that made a difference. There was a quiet gasp through teeth that seemed thunderous, despite the way it was essentially drowned out by the fans. Smitty heard it, and it was all he needed to know that he'd been spotted. Maybe it was fucked up, but the straight elation he felt knowing that all his patience was finally paying off was a feeling he never got sick of, even after all this time. There was no point in sneaking now, and Smitty charged, facing down the valley of towers where the two villains were tucked.
Malware's powers were still a slight mystery, but had something to do with technology. He had stolen documents, messed with suits, and deactivated cameras. He was curled in front of a specific tower, blinking blue and green from his eyes as his powers deactivated. Though Smitty was hardly focused on him, because standing defensively between them was probably the most annoying little fucking bitch Smitty had ever met in all his ten years of hero works and probably all his 27 years of living. Leviathan, the second most wanted villain, and complete and utter pain in his ass. Now, he watched the fins raise on the fish hybrid, and the electric blue light up his eyes through his glasses. Smitty smiled rabidly under his mask, knowing the cartoony expressions cast onto his screen couldn't portray his giddiness accurately but still hoping it pissed Leviathan off. That slightly sick joy of gods, I can't wait to punch you.
"Well hey there!" he chirped. Leviathan started to groan, which turned into a low growl.
"Yeah, fucking good to see you, prick."
Their stare down only lasted a heartbeat after that. Smitty pulled his arm back to throw his blade, and Leviathan charged at him. The hero's wings flared out, allowing him to fall back and dodge the sweep of claws. This was the buzz Smitty had been looking for. Where he didn't have to think, he could just hit, block, run circles around a villain or even have a villain run circles around him. He tracked the electric blue of Leviathans eyes in the dimly lit room, focusing in on them and searching for any bit of satisfying fury as they traded blows like a rehearsed performance.
Leviathan wasn't as offensive as usual, and Smitty knew why. Malware stood behind him, still shaking off the afteraffects of his powers- whatever they were. Malware had a power with a drawback, but the Association had yet to figure out exactly what it was. Sometimes he seemed unaffected, sometimes he seemed disoriented. Now was one of those times where the two villains were trapped in place until one recovered. Smitty always hated this. He much preferred a more open space with wild chases and shitty one liners thrown around. He hated that his flow state was broken when he found the faintest hint of fear in his enemies eyes instead of mutual competition.
Leviathan was quick and competent in his fighting, and Smitty was struggling in the close quarters, attempting to avoid the server towers. Rarely did Smitty get caught by the villains powers, but with nowhere to run, he was struggling. Water sloshed as Leviathan grabbed a palm full from some secret stash in his big ugly coat. It wasn't much, and it dripped as he hurled droplets at Smitty, but it was enough. Without being able to dodge to the side, the water landed on Smitty, and then crackled alight with electricity. The hero never screamed anymore, but he couldn't help the gasp and the hiss as his muscles seized. Leviathan could conjure electricity, but only through water. It was a convenient limitation, but when one was unfortunate enough to fall victim to his powers, it sucked. "That's not even fair, you asshole," he ground out.
Through slightly blurred vision Smitty watched Leviathan fall back, grabbing Malware- "I'm comin' bro, oh my god-"- and dragging him to the exit. Smitty couldn't help but wonder where the fuck Tucker was as the two villains made a break for the door, which had mysteriously been shut. Their momentum stopped as Leviathan paused to rip open the door. It was enough, because as soon as the door opened, Tucker materialized behind them and pushed the two of them down the stairs.
Smitty barked a surprised laugh as he heard a strained "Motherfucker" from Leviathan and a tumble that was no less than comical. He felt steady on his feet enough to hurry over to his teammate's side.
"That was a good one, Eclipse," he praised, glancing down at the squirming tangle of limbs that was the two villains.
"Hook, line, and sinker," Tucker agreed.
Smitty wheezed for dramatic effect. "Hah! Fish pun. I get it." Tucker's mask covered his entire face, but Smitty could feel his exasperated stare piercing into him anyways.
"Can you two stop kissing each other's ass and focus on the task at hand?" The voice of his spotter came through, and if the way Tucker tensed ever so slightly said anything, his did as well.
Smitty huffed, leaping over the railing to drop down the stairwell after the villains. "A guy can't have anything anymore," he mumbled. His wings buzzed to save him from the fall, and he flew out into the hallway, looking towards the exit where Leviathan and Malware were sprinting. The red light flashed on and off still, tinting his whole view. Malware was slightly ahead of Leviathan, and they ran like they were escaping with something. Instead of chasing them, Smitty raised his blade, locked onto Malware, and threw it. The little thing spun like a boomerang, going downwards and burying itself in Malware's calf. The cat hybrid fell hard, catching himself against the exit door. Smitty flexed his palm, and saw the red circle light up on the circular disk part of his weapon. Then, like some sort of magic, it pulled out of Malware's calf and flew back to Smittys palm. "Come on guys, leaving so soon?" he quipped.
Leviathan hissed as he threw Malware's arm over his shoulders. "You know Seven, we didn't really feel welcome here, so yeah, we're heading out," the villain spat back, forcing open the door. Blue sky spilt into the research facility, and Tucker appeared halfway down the hallway as the shadows he was hiding in dissipated. Smitty swore under his breath, knowing that despite everything the villains were slipping through their fingertips.
Leviathan and Malware tumbled out to the street- literally, as it shook from a seismic wave from Flom. Tucker was closer, and chased after them on foot. Smitty flew down the hallway after. He watched his teammate step into the street and then immediately let out a strangled cry, convulsing. Smitty burst out the door after him, not touching the ground and quickly realizing that Tucker had stepped in a puddle and Leviathan still had the reaction time of an unswattable fly apparently. Smitty streaked over the top of his teammate and after the villains. Leviathan handed off Malware to Soda Pop and the two of them vanished in a flash of pink. Starcaster shifted back into a bear and stood at Leviathans back as the two of them were left to face down the heroes.
This wasn't an uncommon situation, exactly. Soda was their escape route and usually Malware was the first to be evacuated. Smitty flew lower to the ground, just to get close enough that Leviathan might see the straight delight in his eyes. Now, when there was no one in immediate danger, there was that delicious glint of competitiveness in Leviathan's expression that reflected back at him. The fish hybrid growled, the dorsal fin along his spine raising. Smitty tilted his head as the other heroes closed in, the fierce gaze between him and the villain unbroken. "You feeling cornered yet?" he said, too smugly for his own good. Leviathan panted, his claws flexing as he lowered himself in a fighting position.
"Yeah yeah, bring it on you bitch"
A full out brawl in the streets was what the Association always warned them to avoid at all costs, but that's what it turned into anyways. Leviathan and him could not stay away from each other's throat for more than a pause for dramatic effect. Starcaster, in a pinch, could keep the other heroes chasing their tails. Whether by flying as an eagle or mowing them down as a bull, he could never win but could at least avoid being caught. Nobody bothered Smitty and Leviathan. It was an unspoken rule to not break apart their fights, or one would call the other a coward for the following month.
Yet, if Starcaster's face was the closest thing to rebound off of, and doing so also happened to knock the villain off course from attacking one of the heroes? Who was Smitty to turn down that convinence? And if electrified water from Leviathan happened to shock the other heroes a few times, then unfortunately Smitty was too focused on his target to notice. Their powers could cushion some of their combat, but him and Leviathan always ended up fighting hand to hand. Leviathan's spiked gloves and Smittys handheld blades, Leviathans quick and fierce style versus Smitty's flying and heavy kicks, and all the cringey one liners and quips they could toss at each other.
"You really can't land a single hit today, huh Seven?"
"Oh yeah? Watch this, buddy!" Smitty punctuated his words by striking Leviathans arm with his blades, hard enough to see a bit of blood stain the thin strip of exposed skin between his glove and his jacket. Thankfully, too, because it would have been really embarrassing if he missed that.
Soda came back for Starcaster. Smitty saw it out of the corner of his eye, mostly because the sensors in his helmet locked onto him. Even then, the rest of his team didn't join the fight. Even then, Leviathan didn't let up. Smitty loved seeing the villain's eyes, even tinted through his glasses, because he could see the hint of rabidness as the edges of normalcy begin to fray in combat. The villain caught Smitty's thigh to stop a midair kick, turning and attempting to yank him face first into the ground. Smitty bent his knee to kick Leviathan in the stomach instead, twisting free and swinging at him from above, blade in hand. Leviathan blocked it, and Smitty felt a small shock travel through him from the contact. There was blood on the villain's wrist, which had proven to be enough water to use from his power.
Recovering, Smitty dropped down on him, planting a foot on the villain's chest but not quite falling out of the air. Leviathan stumbled backwards, his back hitting the wall of the research facility. Yet he reached up and grabbed Smitty's calf, his sharp hybrid claws sinking into Smitty's leg, trying to reach blood to activate his powers. Despite the beginnings of protest in his wings, Smitty pushed harder into the villain, his foot close enough to Leviathan's throat to start to choke him. A stalemate that didn't have to be a stalemate. Smitty could yank his leg away, Leviathan could shove him off. But neither of them dared bare the weakness of self-preservation. The spectators around wondered who would cow first. The mismatched red and blue of Smitty's animated eyes met the electric blue through tinted glasses of Leviathan's, and it was very clear that the answer was neither of them.
That was until, like a well-oiled machine, Soda Pop appeared in a bubbly cloud of pink. The momentum of how he was moving before he teleported carried him through the air. He ran into Smitty's leg, knocking him off of Leviathan but also ripping the villain's grip off of him. It nearly sent Smitty to the ground, and he let out an embarrassing squawk as his fiercely buzzing wings thrust him forward. He caught himself, and he heard Eli yell hey from behind him. Now the villains were fair game. But it was too late anyways. Leviathan and Soda had ducked out from under him, Soda had grabbed Leviathans arm, and they were gone by the time Smitty whirled around.
For a second, he was nearly lost. The oppressive blanket of normalcy had been dropped somewhere back up at the entrance of the server room, and now all his ugly insides were uncovered and he felt unsafe out in the bright sun and the open street. But then Eli trotted up to him, waving a hand and tilting his head. Smitty's eyes followed Eli's pink glove like he was rewinding the clock keeping all of Smitty's "appropriate" behavior ticking. "Seven? Seven? Come on, hello?? Seven??" Eli stopped asking when Smitty smiled. He knew a big yellow half circle was cast onto his screen, unmistakable and present.
"Wow! That was- that was intense!" he laughed. As he lowered himself to the ground, he saw the three exchange glances. He knew he was talking too loud. His voice was a little too performative, his laugh was too dramatic to be real. Even through their masks, he knew that the others were either concerned or annoyed, but at least collectively agreeing to say nothing about it.
"Yeah, and they still got away," Tucker grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest before nearly folding in half when Flom elbowed him.
"You're such a bummer, we literally did our best," Flom protested. Tucker rubbed his side, looking like he was going to answer for a second, before thinking better of it.
"We'll get them next time, guys," Smitty promised, still too loud. They'd always get them next time. It was always next time.
"Yeah, and anyways, Reaper is hurt." Flom said. Eli's cat ears pinned like he didn't want anyone to mention that. Smitty's smile fell, and cracks splintered in his performance, because that wasn't something he could skirt over.
"Look, I'm fine-" Eli started, then paused, his ears twitching upwards. Smitty knew why, as the voice of his spotter- and all of theirs- rang through his helmet.
"Seven, Mockingbird has been spotted on Fateless bridge. No disruption, just a sighting. Go check it out." And oh gods, if Smitty's stomach didn't do a funny little excited twist at that. His elytra lifted so his wings could buzz to smooth over the jump of his heart. The others looked at him curiously.
"Alright. I've been recalled," Tucker huffed.
"Same."
"Yeah, me too."
To send Smitty after Mockingbird alone could have been called a cruel joke, but it made him excited, if anything. He was able to keep those bindings of normalacy away from him for longer, knowing he may just be able to go after another villain. "Ah, I've been called to patrol. So. Yknow." He shrugged. "You guys go get healed. I'll be right behind you. Pretty much."
Again, the three exchanged that glance, like there was something that was setting Smitty apart from them. Like they weren't a team, but it was the three of them, then him. He didn't like it but he preferred it over being questioned. Flom heaved his huge battle hammer over his shoulder with a grunt.
"Alright then. Stay safe," he nodded. He put a hand on Eli's shoulder to force the cat hybrid to follow him. Eli glanced over his shoulder, but went with Flom reluctantly. Tucker lingered the longest, staring at him, then sighing.
"Yeah. Just- come back once you've finished your patrol. Please," he said, quieter. Smitty could feel the strings that held Seven in place straining under the sheer concern in his voice.
"Sure thing, buddy!" He answered cheerily. The cracks widened as Tucker looked down, nodded, then stepped back and sank into the shadows. For a moment, Smitty didn't move. He stared at where Tucker was and tried his hardest to cover the cracks, to ease the tension on the puppet strings before he fell apart. He nearly craved his cork board now, he needed that reminder of what he was supposed to be. It rang out in one word that dashed through his mind. Mockingbird.
Smitty looked in the direction of where he knew Fateless bridge was. Even though there was a distinct protest in the root of his wings, he didn't flinch as he took to the sky. The city was on a coast, split by a river. Several bridges crossed it, and among them was the remains of Fateless bridge.
He crested above the final few buildings of any notable height closest to the river, and began gradually descending as he flew, putting him on track to land right on the bridge. The sensor in his helmet jumped around, looking for any sign of the city's number one threat. As he got closer, though, he didn't see his winged nemesis. His sensor did lock onto a subject, though.
Balanced a little too precariously on the rusted steel ramins of the collapsed bridge's frame was Frogger. A vigilante, a familiar mask. In his years, Smitty had busted countless kids with flashy powers who decided to take superheroing into their own hands. The Association wasn't light on vigilantism, it put the people in danger, but moreover it threatened the Associations image when they were good at it. Frogger was an example of the latter. The vigilantes weren't trained, they weren't bound by laws and a code people didn't understand. They showed up unexpectedly, did good work, and left without taking credit. Usually. Regardless, people loved them. The Heroes Association despised them.
Oh, how Smitty had tried to resign himself to the idea of just hunting the vigilantes. He could never quite do it. Indesicion tore him. On one hand, the mask that started back at him from his cork board and wall was the face of someone who followed orders. Someone who listened to the snarling voice and the bigger dog and just caught the rule breakers. On the other hand, Frogger was so good. So stupidly, painfully, genuinely good. It felt cruel, every moment he would give a chase or give the vigilante any fear of being caught. Even if Frogger’s team was brasher than he was, they were all still doing good for whatever fucked up reason they may be doing it. Smitty knew if he really tried, he could have them locked down in the prison within an hour of spotting them. Yet, the thought never came without sickening guilt.
He didn't zip towards Frogger. His blades stayed clipped to his belt. Instead, he slowly hovered down the middle of the road towards the bridge. This road wasn't used anymore, he knew. There was a barricade that ended about a half a mile back, and from there the road had slowly decayed. pieces fell off the sides, cracks split through the middle that little green weeds eventually grew out of. At the end of it there wasn't even any road left, having been washed out. But thousands of feet visiting the near-famous ruins had pounded a dirt path almost wide enough to make up for the missing road. It led into the chained off entrance to one pair of support pillars and steel body that remained of Fateless bridge.
It wasn't long enough to cross the river anymore. When Smitty was a child, he could sit in the middle of the bridge and watch the sun set perfectly centered over the water. There was not a view like it in the rest of the city. Even now, when the corpse of the bridge had been dead and rotting for fourteen years, the sun still lovingly wrapped it in a golden hue to soften it's frame and edges like it was apologizing for what had been taken.
Smitty didn't forgive it.
Frogger didn't startle, he just sort of turned his head when Smitty got close enough. "Oh! Hello Seven!" he greeted, as if they were old friends. It made something in Smitty's chest turn. Not even an hour ago he was relishing in the violence he caused, in the pleasure of pushing an enemy who reflected himself back at him to their very limit, and now the thought of even unclipping his weapons seemed awful. He didn't deserve to put a stain on the day of someone who had never been anything but good hearted. But if he didn't shoo Frogger back to the shadows, they might call someone else, and he didn't want to risk that.
"Hey, Frogger," he said, quietly. "I got a call about Mockingbird being here. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that?" Not a threat, really. More just carrying out the protocol. Frogger kicked his legs like a child on a chair that was too big for them.
"No I- I can't say I do, Seven." He seemed to think for a beat before perking up. "Ooh, but I did think of a new deli meat idea, it's called sliced horse. Do you want to hear about it?"
So stupid. It was so stupid, it was how Frogger always was. It amazed Smitty that the vigilante had somehow managed to stay alive on the scene for as long as he did. Underneath his mask, he had to purse his lips and hold his breath to stop himself from laughing. Even then, he still sounded a little winded when he spoke. "No, I think I'm good, honestly." Smitty should have put his foot down there. He shouldn't have let the interaction drag on. But if he drifted forward gradually to stand on one of the steel beams, grip a vertical one for balance, and look out at the setting sun? Well, forgive him, it was pretty.
"You're going to hang around but not hear about my sliced horse?" Frogger asked, and he sounded almost genuinely upset. Smitty did laugh this time, a sharp breath through his nose.
"Is that all you were doing here, sitting and pondering sliced horse?" he questioned, amused, despite himself.
"Well, what else am I supposed to be doing?"
Smitty huffed, as if he were annoyed at even needing to explain it, even though it wasn't any skin off his back. "I don't know! This is a memorial! Ponder-" and then suddenly, he got quiet. Like something finally, finally, broke through the cracks of the mask. "Ponder that," he finished, albeit weaker. He could see the vigilante's head turn. Frogger's mask covered his eyes, but Smitty imagined pupils darting over him, trying to figure out what could possibly be wrong.
"I do!" Frogger protested. It was still pointlessly and humorously indignant, but now his tone wasn't as sharp. His voice was usually pitched up an octave, and Smitty could always tell when he was taking things as a joke, because of his voice. But now it was lower and smoother, like he knew what it was like to carry heavy things. "I just don't like to worry about remembering things. They happened so long ago, it's not like you can change them, so…" he trailed off with a shrug. Smitty felt something ugly curl in his stomach. He couldn't define it, but jealously was definitely in there somewhere. Gods, how he wished he could say things like that and mean it. Without what he was remembered as, Smitty knew he'd be nothing right now.
"Yeah, well," he swallowed. "I have a lot of things I don't want to forget. And a lot of things I need to remember. So." It was a little unfairly aggressive. Where Frogger had trailed off, Smitty ended his sentence firmly, like it would prove he was more certain about what he was saying. He wasn't, really. He knew his logic was flawed, and probably entirely wrong. But it was all he had. Who he used to be, who he was supposed to be, it was all he had to define him. Frogger didn't answer that, seemingly quelled by Smitty sudden mood swing, and the guilt instantly struck the hero again.
"You should go, Frogger," he ordered. How a person with a mask covering their eyes managed to have such an intense stare would always escape him, but Smitty could feel Frogger's gaze boring through his helmet. "Before someone else shows up."
Frogger kicked his legs a few more times before sighing and dropping to the base of the bridge. He trotted carefully around Smitty, like he was waiting for the hero to change his mind and lash out. "Bye, Seven." Maybe it was kindness, maybe habit, maybe something else, but the vigilante still saying a farewell only twisted the knife. Green swirled around his ankles, and then Frogger leaped. More horizontally than vertically, but still covering impressive distance away from the hero in one smooth motion. Smitty's eyes didn't follow him, but he heard a yelp and a crash as Frogger fell, got back up again, and hurried away. Silence followed.
Smitty didn't move from his perch on the bridge. He watched the sun set, the sky turning from gold to pink to a dark purple. Eventually, he licked his lips and spoke. "Could you-"
"Footage is already edited and cut." His spotter answered in a heartbeat, shutting Smitty up. He heard a sigh crackled through his speakers. "You owe me a raise."
Smitty smiled, tired in his own way. "Thanks, Ty." It was met with a grumble of acceptance.
"I'm leaving, alright? Don't get yourself into any more trouble, and uh… come back to the tower soon." his spotter prompted.
"I will. Goodnight." He said, and he heard a click as Ty shut off the communications. Now was one of the very, very rare occasions were Smitty was truly alone. No one watching, no one listening. Just Smitty and the aged rust and dying sun. Every moment he spent out here felt like they were slowly eating through his suit, peeling his mask away from his face. He craved to be back at his desk like an addict. It felt hopeless, out here. He felt empty. He had no direction, no reminders, nothing to tell him what he was supposed to be, and without it he was so lost.
The sun tried to set gently. But every ray of light that darkened felt like a spotlight going out. And at the end of the play, when the curtain fell, Smitty was nothing more than the role he was assigned.
