Archive of Our Own ^beta

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What was going on? A few seconds ago, Bob was flying through the sky. Moments before he was being attacked by Buddy. Or whatever he called himself, Syndrome? And now he was sinking. He seemed to have landed in a large body of water of sorts. He must have been thrown far, it definitely felt like it; his back was going to hate this. He realised after a few moments that he couldn’t seem to breathe. Was he drowning? After a few moments of looking around he realised that yes, he was drowning. Great. He hadn’t missed this.

What was that? Something had just appeared in front of him. A small red beeping object. A bomb? The beeping sped up. Yes, definitely a bomb.

Flight or fight kicked in as he tried his best to swim his extremely out of shape and. Not fit to swim bod away. It was no use; his chubby little legs couldn’t swim as fast as they used to. He was starting to think this had been a bad idea. He looked in front of him: a cave! He could hide in that right? Bob didn’t know, usually Lucius had come up with a way out at this point but he was pretty sure there’d be somewhere to hide in here, right? There better be because he was running out of –

BOOM!

Suddenly, a gush of water threw him forwards. He closed his eyes and braced for impact. This was it. His final hurrah. Good luck with the kids Helen. Tucking his legs in he waited for the crash. And he waited. And waited. And waited. Until…

Like he was being booted out a whale, he surged from a hole with a gush of water and landed, quite firmly, on a pile of rocks. This day just wouldn’t end. He coughed up a bit of water and dirt lodged in his throat and propped himself up with his arm. What the hell was going on? Where was he? Who was that? Was this some kind of death trap? Was Mirage some lying supervillain? The questions didn’t seem to stop and neither did that relentless headache. He could really use an aspirin and a lie down right now. But no, he was stuck in this stupid cave on this stupid island and he was probably going to die. Well, no; definitely going to die. He should probably do something about that. He squeezed his head for some kind of relief and thought about his questions from before. Where was he? He lifted his head for a look.

A SKELETON. IN FRONT OF HIS FACE!

He stumbled back into the cave, a fair distance from his new discovery. A skeleton? Great, someone else had died in here, that was a great sign. He leaned in closer for a better look. The skeleton wore a helmet, a helmet he recognised but he couldn’t think how. Slowly, he brushed his finger over the dust to reveal two letters: GB.

“Gazerbeam?”

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"I think the thing I get asked about the most, of course, is my laser vision. People tend to think it's a real picnic to have eyes that shoot lasers, but, um, believe it or not, it's had its disadvantages. If I look at anything too intently, it tends to burst into flames, which can be a real pickle in a relationship scenario. When you're conversing with somebody, a normal person would be able to look them square in the eye. I avert my gaze, which is often interpreted as disinterest, or rather daft or stupid, which couldn't be farther, farther from the truth, I... I'm a man of culture, a man of passion, and I would say a man of humor, which is not widely known. On the outside, I appear calm and cool, perhaps even collected, but on the inside, I'm guffawing away on the steamship of hilarity. I'm not sure if that made very much sense."
—Gazerbeam, NSA Files, 1960

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Vietnam on the news. Frozone surfing above the city. Some hooded gangster selling drugs by the high school; A normal day in Municiberg. Simon had started his day off bad; he’d spilt his coffee on his new shirt and he was meeting a new client today. He really wanted this case to go well although he knew it definitely would not because obviously everyone hates coffee stains on a shirt. He looked up at the sky to see Gamma Jack looking down from his work building, in all his glory. Simon had never liked him, seemed too full of himself, though he had to admit, the man looked badass. “I bet Gamma Jack doesn’t care about coffee stains on his shirt.” He thought as he pushed through the doors of the reception.

Scanning his keycard, he started to realise that actually most people don’t worry about a stain that small so he probably shouldn’t worry about it. Plenty of people walked around with stains on their shirts. Heck, it was summer! Every single one of them had sweat stains on their shirts! However, he knew that wouldn’t work, he wasn’t like normal people. His father used to call him boring but he knew that wasn’t true, at least he hoped. The truth was people were just like his father, they didn’t understand him. However much he wished they did, they never would. Simon was simply different. This was proven to him as he saw the queue to the elevator and decided to take the stairs. He hated the elevator anyway – it meant he had to talk to people. Talking to people was weird and it was also extremely dangerous; not worth the risk at all. Admittedly the stairs were quite long but he had no other choice, it was his duty to keep people safe… from himself.

He wasn’t alone on his trek up the stairs today though – a small, very small, lady hopped up the stairs in front of him. She had a large black bob, dressed in a full black suit and carried some sort of a teacher’s stick? Simon didn’t know they sold clothes for people that small or made bobs that big. Speaking of the bob, it appeared to have some sort of a smoke coming from it, was she on -

“Stop looking at her!” his mind screamed as he whipped his vision from her. That was too close. He had to remember to be more careful; he was getting carried away recently. She did look very strange though. He kept his eyes on the round the rest of the way up in case of anymore mishaps but he could hear the clapping of her heels against the marble steps as they ascended.

Reaching the top, he was met with a side hug and a head ruffle from his boss, Michael Stronson. Michael enjoyed practically everything Simon hated: eye contact, playfights, being messy and even more eye contact. Saying that though, he was a nice guy, just didn’t know the consequences his actions could have on him around Simon but who did?
“Simon, my man! You ready for your new client?” boomed Michael. Ready? It had been taking up his every waking thought.

“Can we ever be truly ready for anything sir?” Simon joked, although he caught a bit of flehm in his throat whilst saying it, so it sort of sounded like the idea made him sick.
“Oh Simon, don’t be so negative, you think too much!” Michael replied. He obviously hadn’t understood Simon had been joking. This happens a lot. ‘Come see me in my office for a second Simon, I think we need to talk.”

Ugh, he hated these kinds of meetings. ‘One-on-ones’ – the worst of them all. They meant that Simon was stuck in a room with Michael for however long he wanted him. Also, it was never usually good news.

“Listen Simon.” Michael muttered, in a lower more serious register than usual, as they sat down in his office. “I’m going to be real with you. Your client today is… not the easiest. She’s insistent that she isn’t in the wrong for designing a super suit that she admits was made to fail.” This woman was insane then. Who designs a suit that they want to fail? What kind of an idea is that? For a superhero as well, does she have no idea about their importance in society?

“And I know you’re probably thinking, she’s insane, who creates a super suit designed to fail? But as you know we must respect all our clients and she’s paying high for someone to get her out of this lawsuit quietly. Of course, you are our best lawyer so I’ve assigned you to her.” Michael monologued. “Think you can do it?”
“Of course, sir.” Said Simon, confidently. “Great” said Michael. “Because I’m out of here, it’s suddenly got boiling in this office don’t you think?”
Simon nodded nervously before asking, “Sir, why did she design the suit to fail?”

“Something about capes. I’m not sure.” He opened the door and looked back at Simon, almost pitifully. “Good luck!” And just like he had arrived, Michael was gone in a flash, leaving Simon alone with his thoughts. This was going to be an interesting case, how exciting! He brushed himself off and stood up, walking out the office and over to his desk, keeping his head down, only looking up for the occasional nod and wave to his colleagues. Surprisingly, there was already someone sat on his visitor’s chair. He was quick to recognise her as the strange small woman from the stairs. She turned sharply to face him, staring right into his eyes.

“Hello, you must be my new lawyer.” She said sternly. His new client! That added up. Looking at her properly now she did look like the kind to try and kill someone with a faulty super suit.

“My name is Edna Mode.”

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The year was 1941. The date was December 8th. The United States had just announced they were officially joining the allied forces in the Second World War. The Paladino house was stirred.

“You know that this family can’t function without you Pete. You know that!” Simon’s mother screamed across the table. Simon sat nudging his carrots with his fork. The war didn’t bother him; he knew it would likely end before he was of age to be conscripted and he knew that it would never put his or his mother’s life at risk. His father’s opinions were vastly different.

“What, so I’m just supposed to abandon my country? Is that what you’re asking of me Susan?” his father hurled back, his hands waving about like a lunatic. Both his parents were good at getting emotional far too quickly; Simon never understood it. Who ever solved a problem with screaming?

“Abandon your country! Pete, you are abandoning your family! This is your place! This is your family!” his mother cried. She was becoming hysterical at this point, tears running down her face.

“And the war is my duty!” his father screamed. Silence grasped the room by the neck. A look appeared on his mother’s face – she knew she could not win this argument. She huffed for a moment, let out a scream and stormed out into her bedroom. Simon looked over to his father, who stared back at him, fire in his eyes, before going back to poking at his food.

“Eat your veg Simon.” his father muttered as he sat back down at the table.

“I don’t want to, it’s too hot.” Simon whispered. Hs father sighed and returned to his food. Looking over at him, Simon felt a hint of remorse. He understood his father, more than his mother did, maybe it was because they shared genes. His father, just like everyone, owed a duty to the country, but surely, he also owed a duty to this family? Simon wasn’t sure but he felt that his father wouldn’t agree. A question he did feel comfortable asking his father nagged at Simon’s mind as well.

“If you go to war, will you and mum divorce?” Simon muttered. Simon’s dad seemed startled, like he wasn’t sure what to say. This surprised Simon, usually his dad knew the answer to all his questions. It filled him with odd sense of pride to see his dad like this – he had finally stumped him.

“I’m not sure son.” His dad said, almost defeatedly. Dread filled Simon’s body; all sense of pride had gone. Not because his parents were breaking up, he knew he could handle that, in fact it would probably be better than the state of their family right now. He was worried because he knew, deep down inside of him, that he had caused this.

Obviously, he hadn’t caused it directly. It wasn’t like he had told his parents to fall out of love and break up. But he was the only reason his father had to stay. Simon knew full well that if he didn’t exist then his mother would be fine with his father going to war; she would get some alone time and he would get to live his dream, serving his country and carrying out his moral duty. Or even better they would have already broken up, moved on and become happy in their new lives but no, they were stuck with the glue that forged them together for the rest of their lives 11 years ago: Simon.

“You need to eat something Simon, how about some toast?” his dad said, pushing himself from his seat and into the kitchen. Simon nodded; toast sounded nice.

“Great!” his father said, his mood improving. “What do you want on it?”

“Peanut butter and chocolate!” Simon chirped - his favourite. It was definitely an odd choice to put together but it had the best taste. Everyone disagreed with him in his class but it was fine. He didn’t need their opinions. He wanted them but he didn’t need them. His dad sighed and popped the bread into the toaster, grabbing a newspaper to read whilst it did its thing. Simon’s dad did not understand him, he never had, but then again nobody ever had. He used to think his mother did but it turned out she just loved him. It was nice but no amount of love could ever truly “get him”. His teachers didn’t get him either – they said he was “too hot to handle” or “just too much pressure”. One teacher had said she even felt like his stare burnt into her eyes. Cry-babies. Although, if he was being honest, he was a bit too much with his teachers sometimes.

The truth was, he was ahead of his age. His mid just worked differently: faster, smarter and... weirder! Yes, there was no getting around the fact that Simon Paladino was a weird kid. A smart kid but weird.

His dad walked over to the table and set a plate down in front of him. Peanut butter and chocolate just liked he had asked. It looked a bit burnt though; his dad must have forgot to take it out in time. At least he had tried, that’s all you can ask for from a father, right? Well, it definitely all you could ask for from Pete Paladino, that’s for sure.
“Is that alright?” his father asked, noticing the look on Simon’s face. Simon nodded. His father’s marriage was falling apart he didn’t need the fact that he was bad at making toast on top of that. Simon took a bit into the toast as they sat there in silence, the only sound coming from the munching of the bread. His father stared blankly out the window, lost in thought. Lost in life as well. He looked over at Simon and smiled.

“It’s gonna be alright son. I promise.”

Simon knew that wasn’t the truth.

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Simon sat in the leather office chair; the air thick with tension – he could feel his leg shaking in anticipation. Burn marks stained the carpeted floor from where he had been staring. He had never been up this high in his building. Hell, he had never been up any higher than the fancy toilets on floor 9. He felt out of place here and though that was anything new, this feeling was different. He felt… important.

The door swung open and in walked a man who needed no introduction, his CEO, Ronald Walkin. Behind him came two others – a man with slicked back black hair and a fancy blue suit and a smaller plumper woman. Simon recognised the smaller one from around the building but he didn’t recognise the other man – who was he?

“Simon! Good to see you!” Ronald cheered, patting him on the back and turning to show the blue suit man their apparent friendship. Simo sat confused; he’d never met this man his life, why was he acting like they were best friends? Ronald smiled for an uncomfortable amount of time before sitting down next to the man. Lifting his hand, Ronald ushered the small lady out, who Simon now assumed was his secretary, and lant forward onto the table.

“Well, come on Simon! Introduce yourself! Don’t get shy now!” Ronald said to Simon, before turning back to his friend. “He gets shy sometimes!”

“Could you give us a moment Ron?” the blue suit man finally spoke, but he kept his eyes fixed upon Simon, who nervously darted his gaze across the room. He could feel his pupils warming up. It was like the man knew his weakness as he stared deep into his soul, threatening to expose him for his weird freaky eyes. When was he allowed to leave this place! His disassociation was snapped by Ronald standing up and nattering nervously.

“Of course! I’ll be right out your way! Be good Simon! You know what’ll happen if you don’t! Haha, alright, good times, bye!” The man’s eyes didn’t move and his mouth did not speak a word as Ronald left the room. The two sat for a moment, before he broke the silence.

“My name is Robert Deavor, nice to meet you.” He said, reaching out his hand for a shake. Simon took it and replied. “Nice to meet you too, I’m Simon. Simon Paladino.”
“Sweaty hands you got there Simon. Nice and hot.” Robert said, releasing his hand and shaking it. Simon blushed. How stupid he looked; sat there blushing with his sweaty hands. Knowing his luck, he probably had a coffee stain on his shirt again. “Just like your eyes, hey?”

Simon paused. “What?”

“Your eyes. Hot.” Simon sat there, struck with horror. Did this man seriously know?

“What, you thought you could work for Edna Mode and she not figure out you have powers? Don’t be ridiculous Simon!” Robert said, lifting himself from his chair. Simon’s mind raced. Edna Mode? His client? She figured him out? All he did was burn her hair a little. Surely that couldn’t be enough to figure his powers. Simon looked up and Robert, who had a dangerous look in his eyes.

“Listen Simon, I work in a very special industry with some very important people whose lives depend on me keeping their identity hidden. You can trust me to keep your secret.” Ronald assured him, leaning closer to Simon’s face. “Do you think you could show me?”

Simon stood up quickly, overstimulated and scared, and backed towards the door. “Listen Mr Deavor, I think you have the wrong guy. I don’t know anything about superheroes or hot eyes or anything. I’m just a normal lawyer. I’m just a normal –“

Simon was then interrupted by Robert promptly picking up and launching the leather office chair at Simon’s head. Without a second thought, Simon saw red and collapsed to the floor. He held still for a moment. Was he dead? Slowly, he opened his eyes to see a mind-boggling sight: Robert Deavor stood, staring at the leather chair, now sat in the middle of the room, sliced in half and burnt to a crisp. Crap. This was his fault.

“Amazing…” Robert muttered, stood absolutely starstruck. After a moment, he turned to see Simon, reaching his hand towards the handle of the door.
“Simon! Wait!” Simon paused. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I apologise. All I ask for is for you to take my card.” Robert said, holding out a small slip of paper. Simon hesitated but then Robert said it, like he had read his mind, the only thing that could have changed his decision.

“This is your duty, Simon.”

A FEW MOMENTS LATER

“You’re going to need a new chair, Ron.” Robert announced to Ronald who was stood eagerly outside.

“That’s fine! Did everything go okay?” Ron questioned as Sion quietly followed behind Deavor.

“Mr Walkin… I quit.” Simon announced. Ron gasped. Robert smiled.

“Yes Ron, I think it went perfectly…”

Chapter Text

“Simon! Are you listening?” A voice called from outside his head as he was snapped back to reality – the cold desk he lay on shocking him up to see the classroom, his History classroom to be specific, and all of his peers staring at him; their bead eyes lurching and leaning over Mrs Henningway to see what was going on.

“Back to your work everyone!” she shouted, noticing all of her students distracted. “And Simon, step into the hallway for me please.” Crap.

Simon slowly lifting himself from his chair, looked straight down and made his way out the classroom. He could feel the judgement radiating from everyone in the room as he stepped into the hallway and collapsed onto the hard metal lockers. Head in his hands, he let it all out – tears streaming down his face. His hands grew warm and sweaty as he burrowed his face into his legs. What was going on with him?

He was to assume that it was because of last night. His parents had got into their biggest fight yet; screaming and crying filled the house until about 3AM when his mother kicked his father out and told him to “just leave then!”. However, thinking about it didn’t make Simon feel sad. In fact, it made feel relieved, like it was the only good thing going on in his life right now. His life was going to become a lot easier if last night meant his parents were going to break up. His sadness grew from within him. Something was going on inside him that he couldn’t control and it was causing him to breakdown. The tears ran as he thought about the nights of sleep he had lost this week, the lessons he had not concentrated in and the constant ringing voice in his head telling him he was changing. He didn’t want to change; he was different enough already. He couldn’t afford to change any more.

The door swung open as Mrs Henningway stepped out to see Simon sat on the floor, broken down and crying. She paused for a moment, shocked – she had never seen this much emotion from Simon before.

“Simon… what happened?” she muttered as Simon wiped the tears from his eyes and got to his feet. He took a second, trying to compose himself, before running into her arms and pulling her into a hug. She stood perplexed, before wrapping her arms around him and holding him like her own child. He cried in her arms for a moment before looking up.

“Could you call my mother to come and pick me up please?”

Ten minutes later, Simon was sat in the lobby of the school’s building – a sick bowl in his hands and his eyes darting around the car park, looking for his family car. Suddenly, he heard the bell of the door go and heard heavy footsteps going towards the reception. A low male voice spoke for a few seconds before his dad turned the corner to see Simon. His father looked scruffy, like he hadn’t slept, which made a lot of sense to Simon. He had probably gone to the pub after the incident last night and gotten extremely drunk.

His father said nothing whilst they both left the school, got in the car and started driving home. They sat in silence. Simon’s eyes diverted to outside the car window. He watched the people outside – a lady walking her small scrawny dog, a couple on a date, a homeless man begging by the supermarket. His dad coughing diverted his attention back to inside the car. His father was staring at him as he drove, an upset look in his eyes.

“Let’s get some ice cream Simon.”

The rest of the day could only be described one way: the best day Simon had with his father ever. They visited Sion’s favourite science museum, walked down the pier and finished it with getting some expensive ice cream - his Dad said it was a special treat. For a few hours, Simon forgot about his sadness and enjoyed his time. As they sat on the edge of the pier with their ice creams, his father having Vanilla because he claimed the other flavours were “too fancy” and Simon having his favourite Peanut Butter and Chocolate, Simon felt truly happy. The cool breeze of the night and the golden glow of the sunset making him feel like he could be in heaven.

“Son, I need to tell you something. Do you think you could hear me out for a second?” his father turned to him. Simon nodded. His father sighed before gripping his son’s shoulder and speaking.

“I have to go away for a while Simon. For a very long while. And I might not come back. That means you’re the man of the house for a while. Do you understand what that means? Just like how going away is my duty, your duty is to look after the house and to look after your mother.” Simon nodded, taking in his father’s words, who noticed the overwhelmed look on his son’s face. “It isn’t too much of a duty but a duty is a duty. You must be loyal to it because whatever you do Simon, and remember these words, you never give up on your duty.”

Those words had power to them, Simon could tell his father meant them. They engraved in his head. You never give up on your duty. His father looked down at him.

“Let’s go home Simon.”

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hello, i'm now a quarter way through this fic. if you like what you've read i would really ppreciate a comment, kudos and TELL YOUR FRIENDS. okay cool thanks !!!