Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was just an ordinary day for Bacon. Another boring, ordinary day.
Bacon was waking up for his stupid hero job. He grumbled as he turned off his alarm, which was somehow louder every morning, like it was personally trying to kill him. He sat up. It was cold. A little too cold for normal.

"Whatever," he muttered, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.
He got up. A small wave of nausea hit him and his vision blacked out for half a second.
"Okay... odd..." he thought. His nose twitched. A smell drifted through the apartment. Bacon.
Hmm... Jaron must be making—wait a damn minute.
He stomped out of his room and into the kitchen.

"Jaron, are you seriously cooking the bacon I BOUGHT?" His voice was sharp, angrier than he meant it to be.
Jaron froze, spatula in hand.
"No..." he said,
bacon hearing a very guilty gulp after jaron had said that.
"One day I'm gonna kill you. Mark my words," Bacon said, totally joking. Probably.
"Hey, hey, stop threatening Jaron, Bacon. So not cool, dude!" Planet piped up.
"God, I hate both of you so much," Bacon exclaimed.
"You could never hate us," Jaron said, grinning. "We pay for your Chinese food at midnight."
Bacon groaned. He didn't have a comeback for that one.
"Whatever, man. Not my fault I'm not paid much as a new hero," he sighed, dragging a chair out.
"Which is why we told you to become a villain," Jaron said.
"Idiot," Planet added, like punctuation.
Bacon glared at him. "You're lucky I don't report you to HQ."
Planet smirked. "You won't. You'd miss me too much."
Bacon lunged across the table, tackling him. Planet shrieked like a child while Jaron scrambled to save the bacon from burning.

Bacon made his way to the subway, hood pulled low over his head. Even though he was a new hero, barely known, barely noticed, he was still paranoid.
Possibly because of a certain someone.
But that didn't matter. Or at least, that's what he kept telling himself.
He hopped on the train. Ten minutes until work. Ten minutes until he had to be a "professional." Hopefully he wouldn't be late, considering he'd started the morning by assaulting Planet (playfully. Mostly). It ended with a bruise for him, a black eye for Planet, and bacon burnt on the stove. But hey, Planet started it.
He sighed. He'd have to stop by the grocery store after, restock on bacon, maybe grab some sweets. He hadn't treated himself in a while. He deserved a pastry. Probably.
The train screeched to a halt, jarring him out of his thoughts. His hand gripped the metal bar too tightly. Out of the corner of his eye, something flickered—a flash of orange fabric.
His stomach dropped.
He almost looked. Almost.
But he forced himself forward, stepping off the train like nothing happened.
Alley after alley. Park after park. He zigzagged his way across the city like he always did, "losing anyone who might be following him," the higher ups made that a needed rule. Most heroes thought it was unnecessary. Bacon didn't.
Finally, the hero headquarters came into view.
He was already in his costume.He had found a small abandoned studio apartment, to change into his costume. He had cleaned it out himself. It doubled as a hideout for him, Planet, and Jaron. If anyone found it, he'd be screwed.
His costume was boring compared to more known heroes. A dusty orange hoodie, brown camouflage cargos. A brown plaid scarf. Other heroes had armor, or shiny costumes custom made. But Bacon thought that was too much of a risk. Darker colors were better. As well as wearing less, it made it easier to maneuver around,
For his face, he had black ski goggles and a black gas mask. Simple he knows.
If he ever quit being a hero, he'd steal it.
Inside, he took the elevator to the third floor. Patrol duty today. He sighed, half out of relief, half out of annoyance. At least it wasn't paperwork.
He walked into the weapon room, grabbed a replacement dagger. His old one was missing.
Blame Planet. It was always Planet.

 

Bacon sat crouched on the edge of the rooftop.
Patrol was way better than paper work, it was calm today.
He had his Scarf tugged up against his mask, hoping to create some warmth, it was a bit chilly. It was autumn to be fair. Patrol duty. Five hours of staring at nothing, then lunch, then four more hours of staring at nothing.
He swung his legs idly, eyes scanning the streets below. Nothing out of the ordinary, just people walking, cars honking, life going on without him. Lucky bastards.
A crunch.
Bacon froze. Rooftops don't crunch by themselves. Not unless you're about to have a very bad day.
Slowly, he turned his head. Another crunch. He knew there were a bunch of leaves on the rooftop, but a crunch meant someone.
His pulse quickened.
And then.. he saw them.
A group, fanning out across the roof like wolves circling prey.
His stomach dropped.
"Hmm," one of them drawled. "What do we have here?"
Bacon said nothing. Just stared. He counted them quickly, his mind racing. Kab. Hannah. And oh, fuck... Clown. Flame. Mane.
His throat went dry. These weren't rookies. These were names whispered in training, against civilians. Names that made the pros grit their teeth. And here he was—third patrol in—face to face with them.
"Come on," one of them said. "Tell us your name. Hero, villain, or vigilante?"
Bacon's heart hammered. Say 'hero,' and they'd tear him apart. Say 'villain,' and they'd laugh at the lie. Vigilante... maybe. Maybe they'd buy it. Maybe.
"Holy shit, is he mute?" Mane snapped, tail flicking behind him clearly unpatient.
Bacon swallowed. His mouth worked before his brain caught up.
"No."

Fuck. Fuck. Why did I say that?

"So you can talk." Clown's painted grin stretched wider. "Good. We hate the quiet ones."
"Well? Answer the question." Kab flexed her fingers, her stance shifting like she was itching to strike.
Bacon's mind screamed. Run. RUN.
"I don't have time for this," he muttered, and vanished, teleporting ten feet down into the alley below. His knees buckled on impact, nausea clawing at him, his vision slowly going black but he stayed quiet. Stayed still.
Above him, the villains erupted.
"What the fuck was that?" Mane snarled.
Kab burst out laughing. "Oh my god. Did you see that? He wasn't even impressed by us!" She doubled over, wheezing.
"Yeah, yeah, shut up, Kab," Mane snapped, bristling.
"Wow, Mane. Did the newbie hurt your feelings?" Flame smirked.
"You shut the fuck up too!" Mane roared. "Next time I see him, I'll show him what to be scared of."

Bacon hid in the alley behind a dumpster, lungs tight, every muscle trembling. He wanted to laugh. He wanted to throw up.
Not impressed? He was terrified. Completely, utterly terrified.
Quietly, he slipped away, ducking through the backs of shops and apartment blocks, putting as much distance as possible between himself and the rooftop of nightmares.

And even as the city lights blurred past him, he couldn't shake it—
the feeling that they had let him go on purpose.
Bacon's first instinct was to head straight home. Straight to Planet and Jaron. To get in their apartment, and just pretend like none of it happened
But his feet didn't turn toward the apartment. They carried him toward HQ instead.
Every step felt like walking through wet cement. His mind spun through the names like a broken record—Kab. Hannah. Clown. Flame. Mane.
Too big. Too dangerous. HQ had to know.
He reached the glowing building, its glass front buzzing faintly under the streetlights. His hand hovered at the door.
Just one push. Just tell them. It was the right thing to do.
His reflection in the glass looked back at him—hood pulled low, scarf hiding his jaw, goggles dark. He looked like some nobody kid trying to play hero.
What if they didn't believe him? What if they thought he was exaggerating? Or worse—what if those villains had let him live on purpose, to feed HQ a message?
What if he told HQ and the villains got mad?
Went after him for saying something?
His throat tightened.
If he said their names out loud, there'd be no undoing it. The whole city would know, and he'd be the idiot rookie who sounded the alarm.
Bacon took one shaky step back. Then another. And before he realized it, he was walking away, hood pulled tighter, forcing his breathing to even out.
Home. He needed to be home. With Planet and Jaron. They'd believe him. They had to.
The HQ lights faded behind him as he slipped into the night, his chest heavy with guilt.

He'd chosen wrong—he knew it. But it was too late now.
He quickly started to run towards a park. It was empty towards this time, it was a shortcut. Sure longer than the subway. But anything near people was a call for trouble.
The more he ran teh closer he got.

Then he saw their apartment. He went through the side fire stairs on the left side of the building, slipping in through a window.
Hopefully no one followed. Hopefully no one saw.
He shut the window quickly, hands trembling, breath uneven. The familiar warmth of home should've calmed him—but it didn't.
Noise came from Jaron's room. Bacon made his way over, knocking with a shaky hand.
"Come in!"
He opened the door.
"Jaron... where's, uh... Planet?" His voice cracked.
"On patrol," Jaron answered without looking up.
Bacon swallowed. "Tell him to get home. Please."
Jaron's brow furrowed. He had the earpiece in—the one linked to both Bacon and Planet, his way of warning them if something went wrong. With his network of hacked security feeds, he was their eyes. Their safety net.
But when he turned in his chair, his smirk dropped. Bacon was shaking. Pale. His scarf was still wrapped tight, like he hadn't remembered to take it off.
"Hey..." Jaron stood, voice softer. "What happened?"
Bacon's chest heaved. He tried to speak, but the words got stuck, throat tight, eyes burning.
"I—"
Nothing. Just a shaky breath.
Jaron stepped closer, not pushing, not pressing. "It's okay," he said firmly. "Sit down. I'll get Planet back. Don't worry."
Jaron tapped his earpiece, linking into Planet's channel.
"Planet? Planet, you there?"
Static, then a quiet voice came through. "Yeah? What's up?"
"Hey, uh... get home. Like, now. It's important, promise."
A pause. "...Important how?"
Jaron's eyes flicked to Bacon, who sat hunched in the corner of the room, hands twisted in his scarf, not saying a word.
"Just—trust me."
"...Okay. I'll be there. Gimme ten."
The line went dead.
Jaron walked towards Bacon, sitting down beside him. He hesitated, then pulled him into a hug. Hopefully it was enough to reassure him, even just a little.
Bacon quickly hugged back, clinging to him like he might disappear if he let go.
They stayed like that until the faint sound of a window sliding open broke the silence.
"Jaron? Where are you?" Planet's voice called, muffled at first, then louder as footsteps padded across the apartment.
"My room, Planet."
Planet appeared in the doorway, but the moment his eyes landed on Bacon, his joking tone dropped.
"What happened?" he asked immediately, sharp and serious.
Jaron shook his head. "I'm not sure. He just came back. Scared."
Planet stepped closer, crouching down in front of Bacon.
"Hey." His voice softened. "Talk to me. What's wrong?"
Bacon stayed quiet. His throat burned with the words he wanted to say, but they wouldn't come. He didn't want to admit it. Didn't want to seem weak. His pride screamed at him to stay silent.
But these were his brothers. His family. If anyone could know, it was them.
Planet reached out, tugging lightly at Bacon's scarf like he always did when he was being stubborn. "Come on, Bacon. You don't get to bottle it up. Not with us."
Jaron added gently, "You don't have to be scared alone, you know."
Bacon's jaw clenched. He didn't look at either of them, just stared at the floorboards like they might swallow him whole. His hands twisted the edge of his scarf.
"I'm fine," he muttered.
"Bullshit," Planet shot back immediately. His tone wasn't harsh, but it wasn't letting him off either. "You look like you've seen a ghost. Or ten."
Bacon flinched, his throat tightening. For a moment, he stayed stubbornly silent. But the pressure of both their eyes on him, the concern, the way Jaron hadn't let go of him.
It cracked something.
He swallowed hard, voice low.
"They... they were on the roof."
Planet frowned. "Who?"
Bacon's chest rose and fell too fast. He forced himself to say the names, each one tasting like poison.
"Kab. Hannah. Clown. Flame. Mane."
The room froze.
Jaron's face was drained of color. Planet's mouth dropped open, then snapped shut with a sharp curse.
"You're kidding," Planet said, his voice low, dangerous.
Bacon shook his head quickly. "No. They—" His words faltered. He rubbed a hand over his mask like he wanted to claw the memory away. "They surrounded me. Like it was a game. And then they just... let me go."
Silence.
Jaron finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "That doesn't make sense. They don't let people go."
Planet stood, pacing, fists clenched tight. "Fuck. This is bad. This is really, really bad."
Bacon hunched forward, burying his face in Jaron's sweater.  His voice was muffled, but they heard the shake in it.
"They were toying with me. Like I was nothing. I thought I was gonna die."
Jaron squeezed him firmly, grounding him. "You didn't. You made it back. That's what matters."
Planet stopped pacing long enough to kneel down again, his eyes steady, burning. "If they let you go... it means they want something. From you."
Bacon finally looked up, his eyes wide, raw.
That was the thought that had been haunting him ever since he hit the ground.
They didn't let him go out of mercy.

They let him go because this wasn't over.

Chapter Text

Bacon sat in his room, eyes burning, body heavy. He hadn't slept a blink. Not after what Planet had said.
They let him go because they want something.

But what?

What could they possibly want from him?
He had nothing to hide.

Nothing—
Except...
No.

No, they couldn't know. Only Jaron and Planet knew. There was no way.
Maybe it was luck. Maybe they just didn't care.
Maybe they looked at him and thought he wasn't a threat.
Or maybe... maybe they knew exactly what they were doing.
Time slipped by faster than he realized. Morning already.

He dragged himself out of his room and into the kitchen. Jaron was at the stove, flipping pancakes, and Planet sat at the table, silent, staring down at his hands.
The air was heavy. No one spoke.
"Bacon..." Planet finally broke the silence.
Bacon met his eyes.
"Be safe, okay? We'll come up with a plan to keep you safe when you're back from patrol."
Bacon exhaled, shoulders slumping. "...Thanks. I will."
He sank into the chair beside Planet, the two of them sitting in a quiet that was tense but oddly comfortable, until Jaron slid a plate of pancakes onto the table.
Jaron's eyes lingered on Bacon. "I'll watch you from the cameras. I'll stay on your channel so I can warn you right away if something happens."
Bacon only nodded, not trusting his voice.

Later, he sat slouched in a subway seat, hood pulled low over his eyes. The rumble of the train should've been comforting, but instead it only made his pulse louder in his ears. His anxiety had sharpened since yesterday, every flicker of movement, every cough, every shoe scuff on the floor made him twitch.
The subway screeched. His stop.
Quickly, he got off. Passing through parks and the backs of buildings, he reached the small studio apartment—one he'd found abandoned and claimed for himself. He sighed, eyes landing on his costume. He couldn't ditch patrol without a good reason, and he didn't have one.
He just stared at it.

Later, he sat on the rooftop, feet dangling. Every so often, he glanced behind him, paranoia gnawing at his nerves. Every beep of a car horn, every shout of laughter, every stray noise made his shoulders twitch. He hated it.
"Hey, you okay?"
Bacon whipped his head around. A voice—female.
"Who are you?" His eyes narrowed, teleportation already buzzing under his skin like a threat.
"Seriously? You don't know me?" The figure paused, then gasped. "Oh—wait, duh. You can't see me in the shadows. Hold on."
She stepped forward, the streetlight catching on the strands of hair that slipped out from under her hood, ginger streaked with pink and yellow, bright like a neon sunset. Most of it was tucked away beneath her oversized orange jumper's hood, but enough escaped to show off the wild color.
Her big round glasses with tinted orange-pink lenses hid her eyes completely, reflecting the city glow so no one could really read her expression.

The rest of her outfit was just as loud: the jumper hung loose, cinched by a belt full of knives, with blue shorts and patterned tights that looked chaotic but, somehow, stylish.

"Hi! I'm Squiddo. You've probably heard of me, I'm kinda well-known." She gave a sheepish laugh. "Not bragging! Just... you know, facts. And you must be the new rookie, I've seen you around HQ."
Bacon blinked. "...Yeah. I'm Bacon."
"Nice to meetcha, Bacon!" Squiddo rocked back on her heels, arms crossed loosely. "Y'know, you don't talk much. That's fine, though lots of rookies get the whole silent, scared thing going."

Bacon stayed quiet, still tense.
She tilted her head, studying him. "You don't have to be so paranoid. I saw you flinch at, like, every single sound up here. Take it from me, I've been around for a year and a half. I've run into villains, vigilantes, literally anything you name it. The trick is..."
She tossed something at him. A communicator.
"...just call it in. HQ will send backup."
Bacon caught it, frowning. "...Thanks."
"No problem!" Squiddo's grin widened. "Oh, and hey, since you're new, wanna be friends?"
Bacon blinked. "Uh... what?"
"Friends!" she said cheerfully, like it was obvious. "You don't look like you know a lot of other heroes yet, so... I can show you some basics. Patrol shortcuts. Best late-night food spots. You know important hero survival skills."
"...Uh. Sure?"
"Sweet!" Squiddo clapped her hands together. "And don't worry, I'm not gonna babysit you or anything. I just know how much it sucks being new. Oh, and you have to meet my partner Ashwag sometime. You've heard of him, right? hes well known... not bragging about being best friends with someone so known haha"
Bacon hesitated.
He didn't know what to make of her. She was loud, unfiltered, but she was also powerful—and maybe... safe.

"Yeah. Maybe," he muttered.
"Cool! You'll love him. Anyway, keep that comm on you. I'm channel five. If you run into trouble, call me. Seriously. Don't do the whole 'suffer in silence' thing. So cringe..." she muttered.
Bacon tucked the device away, but before he could respond, Squiddo suddenly flicked a knife out of her belt and twirled it between her fingers. The blade caught the streetlight, flashing dangerously—until she flipped it, hilt-first, and offered it to him.
He blinked. "...What?"
"Relax," she said with a grin. "Just wanted to see if you'd flinch. Rookie test. You passed. Barely."
Bacon didn't take the knife. He just stared at her. "...You're insane."
"Mm, yeah, people keep saying that." She slid the blade back into her belt, but when she pushed her glasses higher, Bacon swore he saw the tiniest tremor in her hand before she masked it with another laugh.

The rest of the patrol passed with her filling the silence, stories about botched rescues, food recommendations, dumb jokes. Bacon didn't talk much, but... he didn't mind listening.
As they parted ways, Squiddo called over her shoulder, "Later, Bacon! Don't get eaten alive, rookie!"
Bacon sighed—not out of relief that Squiddo was gone, but because he felt slightly safer now with his new... friend?
Friend. Weird word for him.
He wasn't used to having many, especially not well-known heroes.

Okay, that just made him sound like a loner...

He sat on the edge of the roof they'd just patrolled together, feet dangling into the air. His shift had technically ended, but he needed a little space before heading back. Home meant questions, and questions meant... an "interesting" conversation.
Maybe I should just stay at the studio apartment.

He didn't know how long he sat there, lost in thought, until a crackle hit his earpiece and Jaron's voice came through.
"Bacon...? Everything alright? You're not back yet."
Bacon immediately answered. "Sorry, just caught up."
"Yeah, no duh, I see you on camera. Get home safely."
"...Mmm, okay," he mumbled.

The living room window creaked as he shoved it open and climbed in, still in civilian clothes, though the scarf was still wrapped around his neck. He liked it, okay? It was a good color.
The place seemed empty. Probably the kitchen.
Sure enough, when he peeked in, Jaron and Planet were locked in a staring contest.
"Guys..." Bacon said.
"Shut up," Planet muttered, eyes wide and unblinking.
"Tsk, no need to be rude. You know I'm gonna win anyways," Jaron teased, his grin twitching.
"Okay, stop it, guys... The plan?"
Planet slowly moved his head toward Bacon, still staring at Jaron... before he accidentally blinked.
"HAH! I WON!" Jaron shouted, pumping a fist.
"FUCK YOU!" Planet snapped back.

"Uh... guys," Bacon interrupted.
"Oh—oh, right." Jaron cleared his throat and faced him. "So. I was thinking I'll just keep you on camera whenever you're on patrol, stay on your channel the whole time."
Planet cut in immediately. "And I was thinking you should tell HQ. But... I'm also fine with Jaron's plan. Reporting it could have... consequences."
Bacon nodded quickly. "Uh, yeah, I'm fine with Jaron's thing. Also... uh." He hesitated. "...I made a new friend."

Both Jaron and Planet froze, staring at him like he'd just announced he'd gotten married.
"Well...?"
"It's not, like, an outside-of-the-job friend. It's... Squiddo. She said she wanted to show me some hero basics and, uh, introduce me to other heroes. Like Ash. And... yeah."
Jaron brightened immediately.
“Wait... that's great! She can help protect you from Hannah, Kab, Clown, Flame, and Mane!"
"Not unless she attacks me first because I'm a vigilante," Planet grumbled.
Bacon shot him a look. "Planet. I'd protect you if she ever dared. You're basically my brother."
"I don't NEED your protection. I'm technically stronger—"
Bacon just stared at him.

"...Oh, wait. I forgot. Ehh. I guess you're stronger or whatever," Planet muttered, pouting.

Bacon and Jaron burst out laughing.
Planet just grumbled in response, then immediately turned and stared at Jaron again.
Jaron caught it right away. His grin sharpened as he widened his eyes. "Oh, we're doing this again?"
He leaned forward dramatically, unblinking.
"Oh my gosh, here you two go again." Bacon groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "Why are you guys even doing this?"
Neither answered. Just the sound of two idiots breathing aggressively through their noses.
"...Right. Okay." Bacon pushed himself up. "I'm making spaghetti. I'm starving."
"Can you make me some too?" Planet muttered, his stomach growling right on cue. "Haven't eaten since breakfast."
"Me too!" Jaron chimed in without moving his eyes from Planet's.
"Of course," Bacon muttered, already shuffling to the stove. "Guess I'm the house chef now."

He filled the pot with water, the clatter of the faucet breaking up the tense silence behind him. The sound was almost comforting. Safe. Ordinary. So unlike the noise in his head from earlier.
Maybe normal wasn't such a bad thing.
"Don't you dare put mushrooms in," Planet yelled.
Bacon rolled his eyes. "I wasn't going to."
"Good. Mushrooms are disgusting."
"They're not disgusting," Jaron shot back instantly, still unblinking. "They're literally food. Unlike your taste in cereal."
"What's wrong with my cereal?" Planet barked.
"It's all marshmallows! No nutrition!" Jaron finally blinked, but only to roll his eyes dramatically.
"Shut up, it's good," Planet snapped.
Bacon stirred the sauce slowly, hiding his smile. The kitchen started to smell warm, familiar. Garlic, tomato, the faint sting of herbs. For once, it didn't feel like a place where plans had to be made or threats discussed—it just smelled like home.
By the time he brought the plates back, the staring contest was officially over, Planet sulking and Jaron looking way too smug about it.
"Eat," Bacon said simply, setting the plates down.

Both of them perked up immediately, arguments forgotten.
They dug in right away. Jaron practically inhaled his first forkful, while Planet twirled his pasta way too neatly, like he thought he was at a five-star restaurant instead of eating on a beat-up couch.
"This is good," Planet admitted, cheeks puffed as he chewed.
"Duh," Bacon muttered, but there was a faint smile tugging at his mouth.
Jaron pointed his fork at Bacon. "See? This is why we keep you around. Not the whole teleporting, not the secret power- thing this."
Bacon snorted. "Glad to know my superpower is cooking."
Planet leaned back with a sigh, stretching his legs out until they nearly kicked Jaron. "Don't listen to him. You'd starve without us."
"You mean you'd starve without me," Bacon corrected.

The argument should've gone further, it always did, but the food quieted them faster than any lecture.
Jaron suggested a movie and both planet and jaron agreed.
Before long, Jaron's head tipped back against the couch, eyes fluttering shut. Planet followed a few minutes later, his empty plate abandoned on the table.
Bacon was the only one awake.
He sat there a while, the faint buzz of the city leaking in through the cracked window. For the first time all day, his chest didn't feel so heavy.

His thoughts still circled Squiddo, still full of questions and unease. But every time his gaze drifted back to Planet's ridiculous sleeping position, or Jarons quiet snoring, the anxiety eased just a little.
Maybe she was dangerous. Maybe she wasn't. Maybe she'd prove herself worthy of trust, or maybe she wouldn't. That was a problem for another day.
Because right now... right now, he was safe. Safe with Jaron. Safe with Planet.

And that was enough.

Chapter Text

Bacon just stared at Planet and Jaron, already regretting the words that had left his mouth.

All he asked was, "Do you guys want hotdogs for dinner?"
Simple question. Should've been a simple answer.
But no, planet and jaron were anything but simple.

"Dude, a hotdog is DEFINITELY a sandwich," Planet declared, smacking the table like he was announcing the discovery of fire.
Bacon groaned into his hands.
"It's not a sandwich," Jaron shot back immediately, leaning back in his chair with the smugness of a man who knew this was about to become a full-blown war. "It's a taco."
"BRO?? WHAT?? HOW??" Planet's voice cracked, and he actually stood up, pointing at Jaron like he'd just confessed to a felony.
"LOOK at a taco, and LOOK at a hotdog!" Jaron argued, hands waving like he was doing complicated geometry in the air. "Meat inside bread? Boom. Taco."
"That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard!" Planet slammed a spoon against the table. "It's literally called a HOTDOG SANDWICH in some places!"
"That's propaganda," Jaron replied instantly.
Bacon pinched the bridge of his nose.

"What the fuck, guys..."

They ignored him, as always. Planet was now rummaging through the counter like a mad scientist, grabbing a hotdog bun and wedging an actual slice of bread into it. He held it up triumphantly.
"SEE?! THIS—THIS RIGHT HERE—SANDWICH!"
Bacon blinked. "...You just stuffed bread inside more bread."
"Exactly. Double sandwich."
"That's a crime against nature," Jaron muttered, pulling his phone out. "Hold on, I'm googling this."
"Don't you dare," Bacon snapped, swiping the phone right out of his hand. "Last time you did that, we had a three-hour argument about whether cereal counts as soup."
Planet gasped dramatically. "Cereal is soup."

"IT IS NOT!" Jaron shouted, pointing so aggressively his chair nearly toppled.
"GUYS." Bacon's voice was flat, his patience worn thinner than paper. "What cereal do you want? Lucky Charms or Cheerios. That's it."
"LUCKY CHARMS!" Planet yelled immediately, practically vaulting over the table. "But make sure I get more marshmallows this time. I NEED the pink hearts. They make me stronger."
Jaron scoffed. "Oh, of course you would say that. You're like a child."
"Excuse me?!" Planet puffed his chest. "I eat the marshmallows responsibly!"
"Bro, you literally just pour the marshmallows into the bowl and leave the cereal dust behind!"
"That's called efficiency!"
"guys seriously what the hell is wrong with you two, you make me feel like a dad" bacon sighed

Planet side-eyed him and glared at Jaron.
"We aren't done here, Jaron buddy."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Jaron rolled his eyes playfully.
"What time is it?" Bacon asked.
"10:05."
"Oh... I should get on my way to work."
Jaron and Planet went quiet.
"Be careful, okay?" Planet finally said.
"Yeah, yeah. Bye, guys." Bacon smiled faintly before slipping out the front door.

He made his way to the elevator, scarf pulled a little higher up his face. As he waited, two girls stepped in with an orange-haired man—one with striking blue hair, the other brown.
Huh. Another guy with an orange shade of hair. Cool.
They were whispering, voices low and unclear. Bacon kept his eyes on his phone, pretending not to notice. But when the doors slid open at the lobby, he looked up just in time to catch all three of them watching him.

..Okay. That was weird.
His paranoia flared instantly. He pulled his hood over his head as he left the dingy apartment complex, glancing over his shoulder. Sure enough, the same group trailed behind him.

What the fuck...

His hands trembled as he discreetly slipped in his earpiece, heart hammering. His walk sped up... faster, faster.... but every time he turned a corner, they were still there.
Finally, after four more minutes of pressure in his chest, the group split off down another street.

Bacon exhaled shakily. "Holy shit. I'm paranoid as fuck..." he muttered under his breath, disappointed at himself.

Still rattled, he forced his legs toward the train station. His mind replayed the scene over and over—the stares, the whispers, the way his chest tightened as if they knew something.

Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was everything. Either way, he couldn't let it distract him. He had patrol tonight, and the last thing he needed was another round of chaos with Squiddo. Not that he hated her—she was just a lot. After Jaron and Planet's dumb arguments earlier, his social battery was already hanging by a thread.
The train screeched to a halt, jolting him from his thoughts.
He got off at his stop and made his way to the small studio.
After changing into his gear, Bacon slipped into HQ and headed straight to his usual corner quiet, tucked away, safe. He slouched into the chair, tugging his scarf tighter around his neck.
Jaron's voice crackled faintly through the earpiece, grounding him.

"Yo. You good? You seem... off."
Bacon hesitated, thumb tapping nervously against his knee. "...Yeah. Just tired."
He didn't dare mention the strangers. Not yet. Not until he knew if it was real, or just his paranoia feeding itself again.

The HQ was buzzing with life—heroes coming and going, laughter echoing near the vending machines. Bacon tried to focus on the normalcy. Pretend nothing had happened. Pretend the staring wasn't still burned into his mind.

And then, of course, Squiddo appeared.
She popped into his line of sight like she had materialized from thin air, bouncing in her orange jumper with a grin far too wide for the hour. "Baaaacon! You ready for patrol?!"
Bacon jolted, almost smacking his head against the wall. "Holy shit... don't do that."
"What? Say hi?" she teased, her ginger hair peeking from under her hood, glowing against her round orange-tinted glasses. "You're so jumpy, dude. You need coffee. Or, like... ten hours of therapy."

"...Thanks," Bacon muttered.
"Anytime!" she said, already marching toward the door.
He groaned quietly but followed. Patrol was waiting, whether he was ready or not.
They were both on their usual rooftop, the kind of spot Squiddo liked to claim as "their lookout." Bacon sat on the ledge, hood tugged low over his face, while Squiddo bounced on the balls of her feet like she'd just had three sodas.
"Oh! I almost forgot!" Squiddo suddenly gasped, spinning toward him. "You remember yesterday how I told you about my bestest buddy, Ash?"
Bacon blinked, slow and suspicious. "...Yeah."
Her grin widened. "Wellllll, let me get him here! I told him a bit about you and, okay, he wasn't impressed but don't take it personal, he's like that with literally everyone." She waved her hands dramatically, as if that excused it.
"Alright..." Bacon muttered, already worried this Ash guy was going to hate him.
Squiddo whipped her communicator off her belt and pressed the button.
"Helloooooo, Ashhhhhh—guess whooo?" she sang into it.
A flat voice answered after a beat of static. "Hi, Squiddo."
"HI ASH!" she practically shouted, loud enough to make Bacon flinch. "Come to the rooftop on top of that one very nice café! You know the one!"
"...Why?" Ash asked. His tone sharpened. "Are you being attacked?"
"NO! No no no!" she laughed nervously, waving her arms even though he couldn't see. "Bacon! I want you to meet him!"
"Who—?"
Bacon couldn't help but snort at that, hiding it behind his hand.
"Ashhh, the hero I told you about!"
There was a pause, then the voice softened just a little. "Oh. Okay. On my way. Bye, love—"
"ASH. Not now!!" Squiddo yelped, smacking her communicator frantically like that would undo what he just said.
Bacon stared very hard at the skyline, pretending he hadn't heard a thing.
Squiddo shoved the communicator back on her belt, cheeks pink beneath her gradient glasses. "A-anyways! He should be here any second now!"

Bacon and Squiddo sat at the edge of the rooftop in complete silence, the kind that stretched on so long Bacon started counting the bricks on the building across from them just to pass the time.
"Wassup," a voice said casually from behind.
Bacon flinched so hard he nearly slid off the roof.

"ASH!" Squiddo squealed, jumping to her feet.
"Hi, Squiddo. And... uh, Bacon, right?" Ash said, giving him a short nod.
"Yeah," Bacon replied, brushing dust off his scarf. "Hi, Ash. Squiddo's mentioned you a lot."
"Dude," Ash tilted his head, smirking a little, "what kind of name is Bacon? Seriously?"
Bacon rolled his eyes, but not in offense more like a tired 'bro, don't even start' expression.
Squiddo clapped her hands. "SOOO, since you guys don't really know each other, let's do introductions!!"
"...Introductions?" Ash asked flatly.
"Yes!"

Ash sighed, clearly not into this, but relented. "Fine. Uh, I'm Ash. Hero of two years. My favorite color is... purple?"
Squiddo gasped as if he had revealed a life-altering secret. "Purple is SUCH a good color. Okay, your turn, Bacon!"
"Uh..." Bacon shifted uncomfortably. "I'm Bacon. I've been a hero for... a few months, I guess."
Squiddo clapped again, vibrating with excitement, while Ash and Bacon just kind of... stared at each other in silence.
"...Well, anyway," Squiddo said, breaking the awkward tension, "I was thinking we should all hang out! Me and Ash can show you some tricks for patrol and—oh!—all that boring paperwork junk!"
Bacon smiled faintly beneath his scarf, remembering they couldn't actually see it. "Oh. Okay. Thanks."
"OH! OH! BACON!" Squiddo spun toward him so fast her glasses nearly flew off. "Show him your scarf thing!"
"...My what?" Bacon asked, utterly confused.
"Your scarf thing! I figured you had to have a reason for wearing it all the time!"
Bacon blinked. "Uh... no, it's not like that. It's more of a... comfort thing. For anxious moments."

"Oh." Squiddo froze, deadpan expression. "Well that's less dramatic."
Ash raised an eyebrow at Bacon but didn't comment. The silence lingered again, heavy enough that Bacon considered just throwing himself off the building to escape it.
Finally Ash spoke up. "Well. I can teach you a few things. But—what's your power?"
"Short-range teleportation," Bacon said, fiddling with the edge of his scarf.
Ash's eyebrow arched higher. "How far can you go?"
"Fifteen feet."
"...That's it?" Ash blinked.
"Yeah. And only once every ten minutes," Bacon admitted.
Ash folded his arms. "Huh. I've got teleportation too. Mine's thirty feet, same cooldown."
Bacon frowned. "Man, I got nerfed."
Ash smirked. "Pretty much."
'If only they knew about my real power,' Bacon thought bitterly, keeping that part buried deep.

Saying it out loud would put him in serious danger.

"Well, my power is bombs!!" Squiddo yelled suddenly, throwing her hands up like she was announcing fireworks.
Bacon and Ash both turned to look at her.
"...Explosive personality confirmed," Bacon muttered.
Squiddo beamed.

Squiddo leaned forward with a grin that practically split her face.
"C'monnn, Bacon, show him your teleport thing! It'll be cool!"
Bacon froze. "Uh... I mean, I could, but it's not that exciting."
"Not exciting??" Squiddo gasped like he'd just committed a crime. "You literally disappear and reappear! That's the definition of exciting!"
Ash raised an eyebrow. "dude we have the same power, why does he have to show me...."
Bacon sighed, tugged his scarf nervously, and muttered, "yea.... ill do it just so you stop nagging me"

He focused, the air flickered around him
FWOOP!

—he reappeared crouched way too close behind Ash, practically breathing down his neck.
Ash nearly jumped out of his skin, spinning around, screaming like a little girl.
Bacon's face flushed under his scarf. "I didn't—uh—I didn't mean to land here—"

Squiddo fell over laughing, clutching her stomach. "PFFT—oh my gosh, that was the funniest thing ever! You looked like some kinda horror movie ghost sneaking up on him!"
Ash scowled, trying to shove Bacon back. "Seriously, man, boundaries!"

"I told you it wasn't exciting," Bacon grumbled, pulling his scarf tighter. "Now I can't even do it again for ten minutes."
Squiddo wheezed, still laughing.
Bacon just groaned, while Ash muttered something about regretting even showing up.

The next thirty minutes were spent swapping stories from their personal lives—lighthearted ones, but still kept a little vague, funny without giving too much away.
"Dude, I'm starving," Ash groaned, stretching his arms over his head.
"Me too..." Squiddo said, flopping onto her back dramatically on the rooftop.
Bacon only hummed in response, though the thought of food did make his stomach twist.
"Hmm," Squiddo suddenly perked up, eyes widening.
"Ash, you remember that one amazing Chinese restaurant?"
"Yeah...?" Ash answered, side-eyeing her suspiciously.
"Well, Bacon... you like Chinese food, right?" she asked, sitting up again.

"I love Chinese," he said honestly, already drooling at the thought.
"Perfect!" Squiddo clapped her hands together. "Ash, me and you should go grab food for all of us! We can't really eat in front of each other anyway.... y'know, secret identities and all that..." She added that last part with an exaggeratedly menacing tone.
Ash sighed, standing. "Are you okay with that, Bacon?"

"Yeah, I don't mind waiting," Bacon said.
"Okayyy. Remember, channel five if anything goes wrong while we're gone," Squiddo reminded him, already moving toward the fire escape.
"Yeah, yeah. Channel five," Bacon repeated.
With that, Squiddo and Ash disappeared into the night, leaving Bacon alone with his thoughts.
"Hey, Bacon...?" Jaron's voice came softly through the earpiece.
"Yeah?"
"I see villains about six minutes out from your position. Stay cautious—they're circling the area."

"Alright," Bacon replied, trying to keep his voice steady.
The next five minutes passed in tight silence. His chest buzzed with anxiety, every sound in the distance setting him on edge.
Then... something shifted.
The air felt heavier. The rooftop lights seemed dimmer, the shadows stretching unnaturally long across the ground. The whole cityscape looked like someone had turned down the brightness just for him.
Bacon's heart stuttered.

Everything became loud—too loud. Not louder than the static that suddenly screamed in his ears, but enough to make his skin prickle. Bacon staggered back from the edge of the rooftop, chest heaving. His hand fumbled for the communicator at his belt—
—and then he froze.
A sound tore through the air. A shrieking, metallic scrape that didn't belong on this rooftop, or in this city, or in his reality. From the shadows, something gleamed. A scythe. That scythe.
Everyone knew it. Everyone knew what followed when it appeared.
Clown stepped out of the darkness.
Bacon's body locked up. His breath stilled in his lungs. His hands trembled uselessly at his sides. It was as if his whole world stopped moving, suspended in that single horrifying moment.

"...Hello, Bacon."

The voice was a hiss, distorted beneath the painted mask. The mask's grin stretched impossibly wide, frozen in an expression straight out of a nightmare.
Bacon clutched his scarf, dragging it closer to his face. His body betrayed him—shaking, shrinking, unable to hide how terrified he was.
"Aww, what's wrong?" Clown's voice sharpened, twisting playful into cruel. "Scared of a villain? Heroes are supposed to be brave, remember? You don't look very brave right now. Honestly... are you even worth calling yourself a hero?"

"I... I—" Bacon tried, but his voice cracked, words strangled in his throat.
Another figure slid from the shadows. Kab. She leaned lazily against the wall, but her presence pressed on him heavier than the darkness itself.
"Aww, I thought you weren't scared of villains?" Her tone was mocking, but her eyes were sharp. "You sure didn't seem scared when we first met."
Bacon's body trembled harder. His grip on the scarf went white-knuckled.
Kab's smirk deepened. "Speaking of that first meeting..."

"Yeah," Clown cut in, dragging the scythe along the rooftop with an ear-splitting scrape. "Seems you pissed off the wrong person. You've got a target on your back now, Bacon. Better watch out."

Clown stepped closer. The scythe rose, its blade glinting under the city lights. It hovered there, ready to swing—

And then it all vanished.

The rooftop brightened. The static evaporated. The shadows peeled away. The city buzzed in its usual noisy, chaotic peace.

Bacon's chest heaved as he clutched his scarf so tightly it hurt. His heart hammered so violently it rattled in his ribs. His mind scrambled, demanding answers—until realization hit him like a brick.
An illusion.
It hadn't been real. But that only meant one thing.

Clown was nearby.

Bacon's thoughts spun, his breathing ragged, when—

"BAAACON!!! GUESS WHO'S BACK!!"
"Bacon?" Squiddo repeated, softer this time. Her playful tone was gone, replaced by something sharp—concern.
Ash's eyes narrowed further, studying him like he was trying to read past the mask, past the scarf, straight into his head.
"You look like you've seen a ghost," Ash muttered.

Bacon opened his mouth, closed it again. His hands wouldn't stop trembling, so he shoved them into his pockets, forcing himself to breathe evenly.
"I'm fine," he finally said, though his voice cracked halfway through the word.
"Fine?" Squiddo echoed, stepping closer. "You're literally shaking. What happened while we were gone?"
"Nothing," Bacon blurted too quickly. "Seriously. Just... zoned out. Thought I heard something."
Squiddo frowned, unconvinced. She glanced at Ash as if to silently ask are you buying this? Ash didn't answer, but the skeptical look on his face was enough.
Bacon forced a weak laugh, pulling his scarf tighter around his face like it could shield him. "You guys are imagining things."
"Bacon, please, can you tell us what happened?" Squiddo pressed, her voice almost pleading now.
"Yeah, man. Judgment-free zone," Ash added, folding his arms but softening his tone just a little.

Bacon swallowed hard, scarf pressed close against his chin. He wished his hands weren't trembling, wished the heat in his chest would die down before they noticed.
"I know... I know." His voice was low, unsteady. "I just thought I saw something, but it was nothing." He forced himself to look away, hoping the words sounded firmer than he felt.

Squiddo studied him for a long second, lips pursed. Ash still didn't look convinced, but neither pushed further. Instead, Squiddo plopped down cross-legged, rustling through the takeout bag.

"Fine," she said, but her tone was heavy with suspicion. "Food first. But you're not off the hook, Bacon."

Ash sat down beside her, still watching Bacon from the corner of his eye.
Bacon lowered himself to the rooftop edge again, silent. His body hadn't stopped shaking. He knew exactly what he'd seen—and worse, he knew it hadn't just been in his head.

 

Far from the street, a quiet chatter floated across another rooftop.
Mane lay flat on his stomach near the ledge, his eyes glued to one person below. Bacon.
That was his name—the hero who embarrassed him in front of his friends. The one who made him look weak.
"Hey, Clown," Flame said, nudging the masked villain beside him.
"CLOWN!" Mane suddenly shrieked, whipping his head around.
Clown tilted his mask, its carved grin gleaming under the city lights. "What? You yell my name like that, I expect an encore."
"WHAT did you show him?" Mane demanded, his voice sharp and cracking with anger.
Clown twirled his scythe lazily. "Relax. Nothing much. Me and Kab gave him the usual—some threats, a little shadow play. He was shaking like a leaf. Normal villain business."
Mane froze, then turned on him with a death glare that cut like a blade.

"You didn't include me?" he growled.

Clown tilted his head, mock innocence dripping in his tone.
"Well, no. He was already scared shitless with just me and Kab. Didn't exactly need the whole circus act."
"So much for a hero," Kab muttered from behind, smirking.
Mane's fists clenched as he turned back to watching Bacon. His jaw twitched.

"Dude, I don't get it," Flame said, flopping back against the roof. "Why didn't he use his communicator? Or his power?"

"Because he was obviously more scared this time than the first," Hannah said with a roll of her eyes.
"I agree with Hannah," Kab chimed in almost immediately.
"BRO, you always agree with her!" Flame shouted, throwing his arms up.
Kab smirked. "Not always."
"Yes, you do," Hannah deadpanned.
"THANK you!" Flame pointed at her.

Clown let out a shrill, grating laugh that echoed across the rooftop. "You're all pathetic. Honestly, i feel like im babysitting children."
"Shut up," Flame snapped, sitting forward. "You literally made an illusion just to spook one guy and then bragged about it."
Clown leaned close, voice singsong. "Didn't you cry last week because Kab ate your fries?"

"That was DIFFERENT!" Flame barked, "Those were MY fries!"
Kab and Hannah broke into laughter, shoving each other playfully while Flame fumed and Clown cackled.
But Mane didn't laugh. He didn't even flinch.

The rooftop noise blurred into background static as he stared across the city at Bacon.
The scarf.
The nervous hands.
The way he kept glancing over his shoulder like prey already sensing the predator.
Mane dug his nails into the concrete ledge until his knuckles turned white.
Pathetic.
This was the "hero" who dared humiliate him?
The one who made him look like a fool?
A low, unsteady chuckle slipped out of him, ignored by the others. His eyes never left Bacon.
Next time, Bacon wouldn't just tremble.

Next time, Bacon would break.

Mane's grin curled, teeth sharp in the city dark.

Clown leaned back against the rooftop's edge, twirling his scythe lazily. "Well, well, look who decided to join the silent club," he drawled, eyes flicking toward Mane. "You've been staring at him for what... five minutes now? Or is it ten?"

Mane didn't respond. He didn't even blink.
Kab smirked, leaning closer to Clown. "You know," he said in that teasing, predatory tone, "you're starting to make it obvious. Staring that long... you've got a crush, don't you?"
Mane's jaw tightened imperceptibly. His knuckles dug harder into the ledge beneath him, but he didn't speak.

Flame snorted, flopping onto his back and crossing his arms behind his head. "Ha! He totally does. Look at him, all intense and broody. Poor guy's heart's probably racing right now, and he doesn't even realize it."
Mane's eyes narrowed, a quiet growl vibrating low in his chest. He was more annoyed than angry, aware that the villains' words couldn't touch him here, couldn't break his composure.
"If I ever—" he muttered under his breath, teeth gritted, "get my hands on him... he's dead."

Kab's smirk widened. "Ooooh, hear that? Someone's got murder in his heart. Or is it... love?"
Clown chuckled, letting the tip of his scythe scrape the concrete with a sharp, echoing shing.
"Honestly, Mane," he said, voice light but teasing, "it's really unsettling watching you like this. So quiet, so focused... like a predator. You're giving the rest of us the creeps."
Mane's gaze didn't waver. He was unshakable, even as their teasing continued, but the annoyance prickled at him like fire. "I'm not..." he started, swallowing the rest of the words before they could escape. He wasn't about to admit anything. Not here. Not now.

Flame leaned up, grinning. "Oh, come on, don't be so grumpy. Admit it—he's got your attention. I can see it!"
"Yeah," Kab added with mock innocence. "You're just so quiet because you're busy thinking about... what's his name? Bacon?"
Mane's lips pressed into a thin line. The name felt foreign on his tongue, yet it burned in his mind. "I'll... kill him when the time comes," he muttered, voice barely above a whisper, but sharp enough that the villains caught it.

Clown leaned forward, letting the mask tilt into a grin. "Ooh, promising, are we? I like it. Makes the game much more interesting."
Kab laughed softly. "You're really intense when you want to be, huh? I'd say he should watch out... but we all know he will."
Even as the others bickered and teased, Mane's focus never wavered. Bacon was oblivious to the danger above, but Mane's silent fury, sharpened by annoyance and a hunger for control, promised one thing: when the moment came, he would be the predator—and nothing could stop him.

 

Bacon sat in silence, glancing between Ash and Squiddo, who were already staring at him. Their eyes were patient but expectant, like they were waiting for him to say something he wasn't sure he could.
"Oh! Oh, sorry..." Squiddo said, shifting awkwardly on the rooftop.
"It's okay..." Bacon muttered, feeling a faint warmth from their attention.
"Bacon," Ash said firmly, his voice carrying just enough weight to make him straighten slightly.
"Yes?" he answered, trying to sound steady.
"Did you—" Ash started, then suddenly stopped mid-sentence, brow furrowing in thought.
"Wait... I forgot what I was gonna say," he admitted, a small frustrated laugh escaping him.
Squiddo's laugh rang out again, light and teasing, and despite himself, Bacon let out a small laugh too. It felt almost like breathing after holding it in too long—brief, shaky, but freeing.

He glanced at the watch tucked under his hoodie, the digital numbers glowing faintly in the dim light. "Patrol's over in two minutes," he said, trying to sound casual.
"Aww, man..." Squiddo pouted, letting a hand drop into his pocket. Then, like a spark lighting in his eyes, he exclaimed, "Wait, actually never mind—that means we get to go home and eat this Chinese food!"
Bacon allowed a small, genuine smile to creep onto his face. It was fleeting, but enough to make him feel something like normal again.
"Well, we should get going," Ash said, standing and reaching for the bag of food he had grabbed earlier.
"Hmm, I guess so," Squiddo said quickly, hopping to his feet.
"I'll see you tomorrow, Bacon," Ash said warmly, his voice carrying a small note of reassurance that made his chest tighten.
"You too. Bye, guys," he replied, nodding once, trying to sound casual even though his stomach twisted nervously.

For a brief, shining second, the anxious knot in his chest seemed to loosen. He felt... almost normal. Almost safe.
And then it returned, sudden and suffocating.

The prickling sensation crawling up his spine. The weight in the back of his eyes, like hundreds of invisible eyes were drilling into him. Someone—or multiple someones—was watching him. Every instinct screamed it.
He spun his head slowly, eyes scanning rooftops, fire escapes, alleys, and shadowed corners of the street below. Empty. Silent.

No one.

And yet the feeling didn't leave.
A shiver ran down his spine. His fingers clenched against the edge of the rooftop. Every sense screamed danger, even if his rational mind couldn't see the threat. Every shadow seemed alive, every flicker of movement in the distant city made his pulse spike.
Bacon swallowed hard, heart hammering. He tried to shake it off, tried to tell himself it was just paranoia. But deep down, he knew better.
Somewhere out there, in the city's dark corners, they were waiting.
And the quiet rooftop, the brief moment of peace with Ash and Squiddo, felt miles away.

Back on the chaotic rooftop, the small talk never seemed to stop.
"Dude, Mane, at this rate you're gonna develop a sixth sense with all that staring," Flame said, flopping back against the ledge.
"Seventh," Kab muttered, glancing over at him.
"What...?" Hannah frowned.
"what? there are six senses?" Kab blinked.
"No, there isn't—???" Hannah protested.
"Bro, that's not important," Flame said, waving a hand.
"What is important is Mane's weird, stalker-level obsession with that hero." clown said
"Mane, maybe take a break from... you know, creeping?" Flame added.

"No," Mane shot back, eyes narrowing at Clown. "Don't tell me what to do."

"I wasn't telling you what to do," Clown shrugged, voice casually amused. "Just making a suggestion."
"Bro, I don't get why you're staring at him," Flame said. "If you want him to look at you, just yell or something."
And as if on cue, Hannah stuck her foot out at the exact moment Kaboodle was walking past her.
Kab yelped, tripping hard and flailing her arms.
Clown shrieked like someone had shoved a knife under his ribs.
"OH—WHAT THE FUCK!" one of them yelled.
Everyone except Mane whipped their heads toward Clown, who was clutching his mask dramatically and hopping back a step.

"Dude... you yell like a girl," Flame snorted, barely able to keep a straight face.
Mane's head snapped toward the direction of the hero, and his eyes narrowed. "WAIT! He's looking at us!"
All heads turned. Bacon's black-goggled eyes were fixed on their rooftop, wide and alert, scanning every movement with unnerving calm.
"Fuck..." Mane muttered, planting his hands on the ledge to get up. He leaned forward slightly, trying to plan a move but still frozen by the hero's presence.
"OH MY GOD, he saw us!" Kaboodle squeaked, scrambling to her feet. "That was your fault, Hannah!"
Hannah smirked, stepping back casually. "Excuse me, I thought you could handle walking. You owe me a smoothie now."
"Shut up, both of you," Mane muttered under his breath, still staring at bacon.
Clown, still clutching his chest, let out a dramatic gasp. "I am never trusting my life to you two ever again!"
Flame leaned forward, grinning. "Come on, admit it—you love chaos."

"Bro, no," Mane growled softly, voice low but sharp, "I swear, if I get my hands on him... he's dead."

Kab muttered something under her breath, probably a sarcastic comment about Mane and his silent stalking, while Hannah just shook her head, clearly amused.
They all looked back at bacon, then Bacon vanished from view.

Mane's eyes stayed on the empty spot, lips pressing into a thin line. "Typical," he tsked.

"Well... now that Mane isn't staring at the hero, can we, like... get food or something?" Kab said, brushing herself off and heading toward her bag with a grin.
"Kab, shut up," Mane growled, finally rising to his feet.
"Fuck you, man," Kab sighed, rolling her eyes.

The rooftop settled into a quiet, tense hum of movement—Clown muttering about loud noises, Flame chuckling at every minor misstep, Hannah shaking her head at her prank gone right, and Mane silently plotting the next move.

Chapter Text

Bacon hit the pavement with a stumble. His vision tunneled for a second, breath ragged. He'd teleported off the rooftop just in time, but the world still spun around him. He leaned against a graffiti-tagged wall, scarf pressed to his mouth, forcing his lungs to work properly.

Fifteen feet. That was all he could ever get. Then ten minutes of being completely normal... completely breakable.

...Well, not really.

He walked his way to the studio, Inside he
sank into a beanbag for five minutes, trying to calm his mind before changing back into his civilian outfit.

The subway station wasn't far.
He walked fast, shoving his hands in his pockets, trying not to think about the rooftop.
He hated how loud the city sounded after teleporting. Every car horn, every buzz of a streetlight felt like it was pressing against his nerves.
By the time he slumped into a subway seat, scarf loose around his jaw, his hands wouldn't stop shaking.
He pulled them tight against his knees and tried to swallow the truth down.

It was just an illusion.
Just a trick.
But illusions mean Clown was close.
Way too close.

Jaron was asleep at his desk when Bacon came home. Head tilted, pen still gripped like he'd been mid-note before crashing.
Bacon stood there, the question on the tip of his tongue.

Why didn't you warn me?

Why didn't you tell me they were on that roof?

But the answer was right there in front of him.
He sighed, kicked his shoes off, and dropped onto the couch. He wasn't going to tell Jaron about the rooftop. Or Planet. Or anyone.
He just wanted to melt into the cushions and pretend the night never happened.

The front door clicked later that night, and Planet shuffled in. His hoodie was damp with sweat, hair sticking up everywhere, and his shoes squeaked against the floor.
"Yo," Planet muttered, noticing Bacon awake. He collapsed onto the couch beside him like a dead weight.
"Still alive?"
"Barely," Bacon mumbled.
Planet groaned. "Some idiot tried to rob a store with a broomstick. A broomstick. Like, bro, what was the plan? Sweep me to death?"
Bacon snorted despite himself. "Did you stop him?"
"No, I let him finish the floor first." Planet cracked a grin.
"Of course I stopped him. Calm down, scarf boy."
Their dumb banter stretched out, soft and grounding. Planet rambled about patrol, about drunks and stray cats and how boring most nights were, and Bacon let himself sink into it. He didn't mention the rooftop. Planet didn't ask.
Somewhere between sentences, they both fell asleep, back-to-back on the couch like brothers guarding each other in the quiet.

 

Thursday. Patrol night.

 

Bacon adjusted his scarf at the meetup spot, still groggy. Squiddo was already bouncing in place, tossing one of her small bombs up and down like a tennis ball.
"Bacon!" Ash waved. "Okay, so, uh, don't freak out, but I invited some friends."
"Why would I freak—"
A blur leapt over, landing in a perfect crouch. A girl with a huge grin straightened, brushing off her knees.
"Hi! I'm Jumper! Nice to meet you." She bounced in place, unable to stand still.
Behind her strolled a boy with his hands in his pockets, eyes half-lidded, expression smug. "Minute," he said lazily. "Like sixty seconds. Y'know. The best unit of time."
"Great," Squiddo deadpanned. "We've got a calculator on the team now."
"Rude." A smirk crossed his face. "I'm way hotter than a calculator."
Ash groaned. "Ignore him. He thinks he's funny."
"I am funny," Minute shot back.
Jumper just laughed, already chatting like she'd known them forever. Minute kept tossing in dry comments.
They weren't like Ash, Squiddo, and Bacon, already tight-knit, but they clicked well enough.

With five heroes, the patrol route stretched wider, riskier.

Jumper filled the silence with stories, such as the time she became a hero and ended up losing 2 cities over. Squiddo cracked jokes. Minute kept pretending he was too cool to care.
Bacon walked with them, smiling faintly, but the knot in his chest didn't leave.
"Guys! I have a great idea," Jumper said, darting ahead.
Ash hummed.
Squiddo smiled brightly, already agreeing to whatever Jumper was about to say.
"So you have to trust me! There's this secret place I found... mysterious, forbidden, crawling with hidden dangers..." she said menacingly.
Squiddo clapped her hands in support.
"I have a feeling this won't end well..."
"I'm just joking! Calm down. I was actually thinking we should go to the park. There's this spot with the cutest stray cats ever."
"I LOVE CATS!" Squiddo shrieked.
"Squiddo... calm down," Ash said, concerned.
"I'm too cool for stray cats... but where is it?" Minute muttered the last part.
"The park! I literally just said that. Anyway—I know a shortcut. FOLLOW ME!"

They turned a corner into an alley. And stopped.
Five silhouettes waited at the far end of the alley.
Flame. Kab. Hannah. Clown. Mane.
"Oh," Ash said flatly.
"...wtf," squiddo muttered.
"I didn't know they were here..." Jumper muttered, her voice sharpening into something venomous as she stared at the villains.
The air froze. Streetlight buzz was the only sound.
Mane's golden eyes locked directly onto Bacon. His throat went dry.
"Do we... fight them?" ash whispered.
Nobody answered.

Then the world snapped.

Flame threw a wall of fire that roared across the pavement. Jumper launched over it, flipping midair. "Guess that's a yes!" she shouted.
Kab darted forward, blur-fast. Jumper cut her off with a push.
Hannah's thorns snapped outward, razor vines scraping asphalt as they whipped for Squiddo. She shrieked, tossing down a bomb that popped in a blinding flash.
"Ha! Bet you didn't see that coming!" Squiddo shouted, though she nearly tripped on her own smoke.
Clown's laughter echoed as Ash lunged—but the knife sliced nothing, just another illusion melting like water.
Minute cracked his neck. "Fine." The world slowed around him like someone pressed a cosmic pause button. Fire crawled in the air, thorns inching instead of whipping. He slid between them with effortless grace, dodging everything like he'd choreographed the fight himself.

Sixty seconds later, reality snapped back. He staggered, catching himself on a lamppost. He groaned in discomfort, quickly trying to keep himself steady while fighting flame.

 

Mane's golden eyes locked on Bacon the entire fight, unblinking.
Bacon had been dodging, keeping out of reach but he felt it. That weight. Like a lion pacing in tall grass, waiting for the exact wrong step.

Then Mane moved.

The pavement cracked under his claws as he launched forward, his tail slicing the air behind him. The sound alone—a mix of a growl and thunder rolling through the street froze Bacon's spine.
He panicked, snapped his focus, and teleported.

He blinked into existence six feet behind where he'd been, but his landing was sloppy. His boots slid against loose gravel, and he toppled backward, hitting the ground hard on his elbows.
Mane slammed into the spot he'd just left. The impact rippled outward in a shockwave that made nearby windows rattle. Asphalt spiderwebbed beneath his feet as he landed low, crouched on all fours like some nightmare cat. Dust rose around him.
Slowly, his head snapped up. His golden eyes glowed in the haze, pinning Bacon in place.
Bacon froze. His scarf shadowed most of his face, but his wide-eyed terror radiated through every inch of his body. And Mane... Mane felt it.
A grin stretched across his face, sharp teeth gleaming under the streetlight.

"Cute trick," Mane growled, voice rumbling low like a lion's purr right before it lunges. "Do it again...."

Bacon's throat closed. He couldn't teleport again. Not for another 12 minutes, at least. His chest heaved like he couldn't pull air in fast enough, every instinct screaming at him to run, but his legs wouldn't move.
Mane stood up and took a step forward. Slow. Deliberate. His claws shined in as the street light hit his area. His tail flicked lazily, predatory.
Bacon's back pressed into the concrete. He scrambled for balance, palms stinging from the fall, but the distance between them shrank anyway. Six feet. Five. Four.
The fight around them blurred into background noise. Clown's laughter, Squiddo's bombs, Hannah's vines—it all faded to the sound of claws tapping asphalt and the pounding of Bacon's heartbeat in his ears.

Mane crouched lower, muscles coiling like springs. Ready to pounce.

And Bacon knew... if he jumped, if he reached, there'd be no dodging it.
No teleport,
no bomb,
no teammate fast enough.
He'd be done.

Planet, and jaron. They wouldn't know till after a few days. Hell, they might not even know if HQ decides to not release information.

"Enough!"

Flame's voice ripped across the battlefield, fire erupting skyward in a blazing column. Heat licked over Bacon's skin, and Mane froze mid-step, head snapping toward the command.
For a moment, Mane didn't move. His teeth stayed bared, his eyes still locked on Bacon like he hadn't quite decided whether to obey.
Then, with a sharp exhale, he straightened. Still crouched low, but backing off, golden eyes never leaving Bacon's trembling frame.

"Well, look at that..." Mane growled. "It's your lucky day. Don't think that luck's gonna stay with you."

Mane's gaze locked on Bacon.
When he finally turned to leave, the ground still cracked under his weight. But the promise lingered, heavy as the smoke Flame's fire left behind.
The villains regrouped, retreating under Flame's orders. The night grew quiet again, save for the hiss of fading fire and the ragged breathing of every hero left standing.

Bacon didn't move for a long moment. His palms were scraped raw from catching himself, his back pressed hard against the ground like if he shifted an inch, Mane might spring back out of the shadows.

Squiddo finally broke the silence.

"...Okay, uh. Did anyone else see that?"
"See what?" Jumper asked, bouncing lightly on her toes, still buzzing from adrenaline.
"Mane. That." Squiddo gestured wildly at Bacon, who was still catching his breath. Squiddo flailed her hands. "That. THAT. He wasn't just fighting. He was, like, locked in on Bacon. Like he wanted to eat him alive.... Kinda gay if you ask me." She muttered the last part under her breath, but everyone heard.

Ash frowned, scanning the cracked asphalt where Mane had landed. "Yeah. He didn't even blink when Bacon moved. That wasn't a fight, that was—" He stopped himself. "That was something deeper."
Jumper's smile faltered. "Oh. Oh that's... yikes."
Minute, who had been unusually quiet, tilted his head, eyeing Bacon. "Not to be dramatic, but he was staring at you like you were dinner. And you looked..." His voice trailed, uncharacteristically serious for once. "...terrified."

Bacon swallowed hard and tugged his scarf up higher over his face. "I—It's fine. I'm fine."

"Fine?" Squiddo threw her arms up. "Bro, I thought he was about to maul you. If Flame hadn't said 'enough,' you'd be—"
"Squiddo." Ash cut her off gently. His eyes, though, stayed on Bacon, sharp and concerned.

The group exchanged glances, the tension settling heavy between them. None of them had missed it, Mane's golden eyes, his grin, the way he ignored the rest of the fight just to close in on Bacon.

Finally, Jumper tried to shake it off with a nervous laugh. "Welp! That was horrifying. Definitely not gonna dream about lion-boy crouching on all fours like he's auditioning for a horror movie, nope. Totally fine."
"Not helping," Ash muttered.
"Just saying," Jumper replied, forcing cheer back into her voice, "if he stares like that again, Bacon, maybe teleport into him instead of away. Might short-circuit his creepy predator brain."
Squiddo smacked her arm. "Don't give him bad ideas! He'd splat like a pancake!"
"Better a pancake than a chew toy."
The humor barely cut through the unease, but it was something. Still, as they regrouped and began heading back, Bacon kept catching their glances. Concerned. Unsettled.
Because they'd all seen it.
Mane wasn't just fighting.
He was choosing.

 

The five of them ended up on a rooftop a few blocks away, the city glowing soft and golden beneath them. The sounds of traffic and nightlife felt almost too normal compared to what they'd just faced. For once, nobody spoke right away... they just sat, catching their breath, the silence pressing heavy.
Bacon sat cross-legged, tugging his scarf higher over his mouth. His hands wouldn't stop shaking, even though he kept hiding them in his sleeves. Every time he blinked, he swore he saw Mane's eyes again. Locked. Unblinking.
Ash was the first to break the quiet. He dropped down beside Bacon, leaning back on his arms, voice steady but low. "You did good, you know. You kept your head even when he went for you."
Bacon shook his head quickly. "I froze. I shouldn't have—"
"You moved when it counted," Ash cut in. "That's what matters."
"Yeah!" Squiddo piped up from the edge of the roof, where she was dangling her legs over the drop like it was nothing. "You blinked six feet away from a lion-boy who was about to make you into a chew toy. That's a win in my book."
Bacon didn't answer. He just pulled his scarf higher.
Minute, sitting with his arms draped over his knees, watched him with that same uncharacteristic seriousness he'd had back on the street. "He was staring at you the whole fight. That wasn't random. He picked you. Did you... perhaps do something to make him angry?"
"Minute," Ash warned.
"What?" Minute shrugged. "He noticed it, we all noticed it. Not saying it doesn't make it less true."
Jumper rolled onto her side from where she'd been sprawled flat on her back, staring up at the stars. "Okay, but can we all just admit how absolutely nightmare fuel that was? Mane on all fours, eyes practically glowing, head snapping up like—ugh." She shivered dramatically. "Looked like he was about to audition for some creepy nature documentary."
That finally dragged a weak laugh out of Squiddo, and even Ash's mouth twitched. Bacon didn't laugh, but the corner of his eyes softened just a little.
"You're shaking," Ash said quietly, too low for the others to catch.
Bacon bit the inside of his cheek. "I can't stop."
Ash didn't press, just shifted so their shoulders brushed, a quiet anchor to help comfort him.
Squiddo noticed, hopping down from her perch to plop beside Bacon on the other side. "You're fine," she said, more like a declaration than comfort. "Creepy lion boy's not here, and we'll kick his ass next time. Together. Promise."

Minute stretched with a yawn, leaning back against the chimney. "Honestly, I'm not worried. He can stare all he wants. He's not touching you while we're around. Your one of us, and we always take care of ours."
"Yeah!" Jumper chimed in, lifting her hand like she was volunteering. "And worst-case scenario, I'll just jump us out of there. Seriously, you've seen my legs, I could clear half a block easy."

Bacon blinked at her, caught between disbelief and amusement. "...You're not serious."
Jumper grinned. "Oh, I'm dead serious. Picture it, me piggybacking four of you at once, bounding across rooftops like a demented kangaroo. Terrifying. Beautiful. Unstoppable."
That broke the tension for real—Squiddo doubled over laughing, Ash shook his head with an exhale that was almost a laugh, and even Minute snorted. Bacon didn't laugh outright, but he let out the tiniest exhale, the fear in his shoulders easing for the first time all night.
They stayed like that a while, five figures on a rooftop, chatting in broken bursts, letting the city noise fill the gaps. The danger wasn't gone. Mane's stare still lingered in all their minds. But at least for tonight, they weren't alone.

 

Bacon barely remembered how he got home. Subway? Walking? Teleporting halfway and then trudging the rest? It all blurred. By the time his head hit the pillow, he was out cold.
When his eyes cracked open again, the apartment was filled with late-morning light. The blinds were crooked, letting in sharp stripes of sun across the floor. The air smelled faintly of burnt toast—Jaron's failed attempt at breakfast, probably.
Bacon rubbed his eyes with the back of his sleeve and dragged himself out of bed. His scarf was still bunched up at the foot of his mattress, wrinkled from how tightly he must've held onto it in his sleep.
In the living room, Jaron was knocked out in his chair, head tilted back at an angle that looked like it should've snapped his neck hours ago. His laptop screen glowed faintly on the desk beside him. Bacon swallowed, guilt pricking at him. He could've woken Jaron last night. He could've told him about the villains being across the street. But instead he'd lied by omission. Kept it locked down where it buzzed and clawed at his insides.

"Morning."
Planet's voice came from the couch. He was sprawled out, one leg dangling off the side, his mask tossed onto the coffee table. He looked just as tired as Bacon felt, but his eyes were sharp in that way that made it impossible to dodge.
"Hey," Bacon muttered, heading straight for the kitchen. He poured himself water just to have something to do with his hands.
Planet watched him for a moment before asking, "Patrol last night?"
Bacon froze mid-sip. "...Yeah. Nothing big."
"Uh-huh." Planet sat up slowly, stretching his arms. "That's funny. Because the way you're holding that glass, you look like it's about to explode in your hand."
Bacon winced. He set the glass down, leaning hard against the counter. "...It was fine. Just... tense."
Planet tilted his head, studying him. "Bacon." His voice was low, patient but firm. "You don't have to carry it by yourself."

Bacon opened his mouth, closed it, tugged at his scarf. "...They... They fought us..." His voice cracked. "I got so close. So close to dying. I almost..."
Planet stood, walked over, and without asking, draped an arm around his shoulders. Bacon stiffened at first, but the weight was grounding.
"You didn't die," Planet said simply. "You're still here."
Bacon pressed his lips together, the words buzzing in his chest but refusing to come out.

"C'mere," Planet muttered, tugging him toward the couch. Bacon let himself be pulled, collapsing onto the cushions beside him. They sat there, shoulder to shoulder, quiet.
Jaron stirred in his chair across the room, mumbling in his sleep, but didn't wake.
Bacon sighed, scarf muffling the sound. "...You think it'll ever stop? him coming for me..?"
Planet leaned back, eyes on the ceiling. "...No. But it'll get quieter. And you won't be alone while it does."
That made Bacon's chest ache, but in a way that was almost bearable. He let his head drop onto the couch cushion, too heavy to hold up anymore. Planet didn't move his arm away, just shifted so Bacon could lean against him.

By the time Jaron finally jolted awake and mumbled something about burnt toast, both of them were already asleep again.

"Guys? Dude, how long was I out for..." Jaron muttered

Chapter Text

It was Friday.
Just one more day and then a break, even if it was only a single day, he could be normal again.
Bacon wondered what Jumper, Ash, Squiddo, and Minute had done after they all split up.

Did they freak out like he did?

Did they have someone to talk to, like he did?

Did they even get home safe?

That last question froze his heart.
He shifted upright from the couch. Planet was sprawled next to him in a ridiculous sleeping position, mouth hanging open. Bacon couldn't help but grin, quietly pulling out his phone to snap a photo.
For blackmail, obviously. He wanted Chinese food again.
He walked to the bathroom, splashing his face with cold water and brushed a hand through his messy hair.

His reflection stared back at him — pale, faint shadows under his eyes. The lack of sleep and the weight of his anxiety were catching up.
Luckily, no one at HQ ever saw his real face... otherwise they'd probably laugh at him. A rookie already cracking.

But no. HQ wasn't like that. They were meant to be accepting.
Except Minute...
But with him it was all jokes.
Still, Bacon sighed. He couldn't trust them yet.
Not fully.
Not after everything.
He pulled his phone out of his pocket. 9:47. With a small groan, he shoved it away and wandered into the kitchen. Grabbing a sticky note and a pen, he scribbled:

Went to work. Not leaving you guys. Don't call 911 again.

No need for another incident like the last time.
Keys in hand, he paused by the living room — Planet was still out cold. He peeked into Jaron's room too. Asleep, safe. That made him smile, even just a little.
Then he slipped into the hallway.
On the way to the elevator, his breath hitched.
The same orange-haired guy from before was walking down the hall.
For half a second, panic lit his chest — Him again? Is he following... But then the man turned a different corner, disappearing without a glance.
Bacon exhaled, pressing himself back against the wall.

Don't start accusing innocent people, Bacon.

He stepped into the empty elevator.

 

At HQ, suited up, he drifted through the halls until he spotted Squiddo sitting alone.
"HI, BACON!" she chirped the second she noticed him.
"Hey, Squiddo," he said, rubbing his neck. "Uh, you on patrol today?"
"OF COURSE! I'd rather get fired than do paperwork." She said the last part with total seriousness.
Bacon muttered, "Like they'd ever fire a hero..."

Squiddo only nodded solemnly, almost sadly.
"Oh! Minute's looking for Jumper right now, and Ash is showing a new guy how to work the printers."
Right on cue, Minute and Jumper came bounding around the corner.
"Hi Squiddo! Hi Bacon!" Jumper beamed.
"Hey," Bacon replied.
"Wassup," Minute said, flat as ever.
Squiddo quickly filled them in on where Ash was.

"Man, I remember when I was new," Minute said, shaking his head. "I was so scared I almost cried on my first patrol."
"Same!" Jumper piped up.
"Except I wasn't really scared, more like... hyped."
Minute pointed at Bacon. "You're lucky, dude. You got us when you started. I would've killed to know heroes so famous back then."
"Haha... yeah," Bacon said. He didn't feel lucky.

Not with a target on his back.

After a few minutes, Ash finally reappeared.
"Sorry, they didn't know how the printer worked, so I had to show them."

 

"You know what we should do?" Jumper suddenly bounced on her heels. "We should go back to the secret cat park!"
They'd been walking across rooftops, trading stories and jokes, the city spread out beneath them.

"Jumper, last time we tried that, we almost got attacked," Minute grumbled.
"Okay, let's vote. Who doesn't want to go?"
Minute raised his hand.
Nobody else did.
"Votes over!" Jumper cheered. "Follow me!"

Squiddo practically skipped behind her, beaming.
They weaved through alleys and trails until Jumper led them behind an abandoned wooden shed tucked into the edge of a forested park.

"Ta-da!" she announced proudly.
Dozens of cats lounged in the clearing — big, small, scrappy, fluffy.
"Oh my gosh, I LOVE THEM!" Squiddo yelled.
"They all have names," Jumper said proudly. "I gave them nametags and everything."
Squiddo dropped straight to the grass. Within seconds, cats circled her, sniffed, then curled right into her lap like she was a throne.

"Dude. Cats love me!" she grinned.
"Just like me..." Ash muttered.
Bacon caught it, blinking in confusion.
Meanwhile, Jumper skipped over and plopped beside Squiddo. Cats immediately piled onto her too.
The rest of them stood nearby in a loose circle.
"Pfft, cats love me. I'm literally irresistible to animals," Minute bragged.
As if on cue, a cat lunged straight at him, scratching his hood and mask.

"Oh, fuck—HELP—"

The others doubled over laughing while Jumper calmly lifted the cat off.
It instantly melted in her arms, purring like nothing happened.
Minute slumped to the ground, defeated.
"Damn, Minute, didn't know you lost to cats," Ash said.

"...It was a strong cat," Minute muttered.

The laughter faded into comfortable background noise. That's when Bacon felt something brush against his boot.
He glanced down.
An orange tabby, bright-coated and unbothered, had padded over to him. Unlike the others, it didn't hesitate or sniff or test the air first. It simply sat down at his side, curling its tail neatly around its paws, as if it had been waiting for him.

Bacon blinked.
The cat blinked back.
It didn't purr, didn't move, just... stayed there. Solid. Present.
And the strangest part? It didn't leave.

Even as Squiddo squealed with joy at another kitten climbing her shoulder, even as Jumper coaxed a half-dozen cats into her lap, the orange one remained pressed to Bacon's leg. Guarding him. Choosing him.

He shifted uncomfortably, but the cat didn't budge.

His chest tightened with a quiet, irrational thought: Why does this feel familiar?

Whatever. It was probably nothing.
Just a cat, Bacon.
A cat can't remind you of anything.

But even as he tried to convince himself, the knot in his stomach only grew tighter. His thoughts began to spiral, darker and heavier with each beat of silence—until a sound cut through them.
Not the light crunch of grass from wandering paws. Not the soft thuds of cats weaving between them.
Something else.
Heavier.
Human.

They all stiffened.

Bacon's pulse spiked. Villain?
Their heads snapped toward the noise—muscles coiled, ready.
"...Hello?"
The voice was small. Trembling, almost.
A child's.
A girl, no older than seven or eight, peeked around the edge of the clearing.
"Hello, sweetie," Jumper said instantly, her tone warm and disarming as she crouched down.
"What are you doing here? Are you lost?"

The girl shook her head quickly. "No..." Her eyes darted between them before pointing straight at Squiddo. "Her. I want a photo with her."
Squiddo blinked, then grinned wide. "Alright, buddy!"
She hopped up, crouching down a little to the girl's height as the child pulled out a phone.
Squiddo flashed a peace sign, tongue sticking out just enough to make it goofy. The girl beamed and snapped the picture.
From behind, Minute leaned forward.
"What about us? Especially me."

The girl frowned, tilting her head. "...I don't know you."

The silence broke with laughter—loud, unrestrained. Bacon even startled himself by letting out a sharp laugh he hadn't expected.

"Okay, wow..." Minute muttered, clearly wounded but playing it off.
The little girl, apparently satisfied, skipped back toward the trail.
Squiddo trailed a few steps behind her, arms folded but eyes sharp—ready to react if anything felt off. They watched until the girl reached a bench where her mother and siblings waited, waving her over with open arms.
Only then did Squiddo relax, jogging back to the group. "She's fine. Just wanted her hero moment."

The tension bled from the clearing. The cats went back to weaving between ankles, climbing into laps, demanding attention.

Bacon sat back down slowly, that orange cat curling into his side once more. He let out a shaky breath. Not a villain. Just a kid. You're fine. You're safe.
For now.
"Dude, Minute, that kid owned you," Ash laughed, nearly doubling over.
"Dude, shut up. I'm literally more known than everyone here," Minute shot back, crossing his arms.
"Yeah, yeah, keep pulling the famous card," Squiddo giggled. "Wonder how the news would react to your ego."
Minute rolled his eyes dramatically. "The news goes crazy over anything we say—even if it's just hi. They'll twist it into us betraying the heroes or something, all for drama."
That earned a round of laughter from the group.

"Bacon," Jumper said suddenly, her voice softening, "since you're kinda new-ish, try to stay away from public appearances where you have to answer questions. The press always twists our words." She sighed. "Trust me."
"Will do," Bacon nodded quickly.

As if I'd ever talk to the news, he thought. That would just give villains more to work with.
He shook his head, pushing the thought away.

The orange cat stretched across his lap, staring at him with wide, unblinking eyes. Bacon's hand hovered for a second before finally resting on its back. Warm. Steady. Familiar in a way that made his chest tighten. He considered what it would be like to take the cat home, but... Jaron and Planet would cause chaos. He wasn't sure the poor thing would survive it.

"Guys?" Jumper's voice broke through his thoughts.
"Yeah?" Ash responded.
"You know... about yesterday..." She trailed off, fiddling with the hem of her sleeve. "I just—I think we should stay together more often. We're stronger when we're a team. And I think..." Her grin came back. "I think we make a pretty good group."

Immediately, Bacon's thoughts flashed to their group. Mane. Mane.
His chest tightened. Why did that name always crash through when he was finally starting to feel safe? He shook it off, forcing himself back into the moment.

"I agree," Squiddo said instantly, no hesitation.
"Yeah, don't see why not..." Minute muttered, pretending to be casual.
"Me too," Ash added.
Bacon swallowed. "...Yeah. That's cool."
But the thought hit him anyway, sharp and cold.
What if this is a joke?
What if they're just humoring me?
What if they're planning to betray me?
His chest tightened.

No.

He shook it away, forcing himself to focus on the warmth of the cat against him, the laughter still hanging in the air, Jumper's grin.

They're safe. They actually want to help me. They want to be friends.
He tried to believe it.

After a few hours of hanging out with cats, playing around, and watching Minute nearly lose his dignity to a tabby (twice), some of them decided it was time to head home.
"Wait! Wait, wait!!!" Jumper frowned. "Just an hour or two more! I know this cute spot you guys will like! Star watching! Calm down before going home?"

Minute sighed dramatically. "I wanted to go home and relax, but... star watching does sound like a nice way to recover from my brutal battle with cats."
Ash looked at Squiddo, who nodded instantly.
"Yeah, sure," he said.
"I don't mind," Bacon added with a shrug.
They set off through the park, a few kids spotting them along the way. Some asked for photos, some just stared wide-eyed.
Bacon was stiff, unsure what to do with kids pointing at him like he was someone important.

"Dude, as much as I love helping kids, they don't know personal space," Minute muttered. "One licked me."
They all burst into laughter.
"Thought you liked attention?" Ash teased.
"Yeah. When they're not licking me." Minute shot back.
Eventually they made it to a tall rooftop, sprawling out across the flat concrete, bodies turned toward the sky.

"This is beautiful," Squiddo whispered.
"Mm... just like you," Ash whispered back, quiet enough that no one heard but her.

The group settled into a soft silence, until Bacon realized... he was supposed to be home thirty minutes ago.
Jaron hadn't called through the earpiece though, which meant he was probably watching through the cameras instead, covering for him.
Bacon pulled out his phone, dimmed low, and sent a quick text to the group chat with Jaron and Planet:

Sorry, forgot to tell you guys. I'll be home later. Hanging with some heroes.

Jaron's reply came instantly: Yeah I'm watching you. Fuck you. I gotta do overtime now.

Bacon snorted under his breath.
"Dude, Bacon? Seriously texting your girlfriend mid-shift?" Minute teased.
Bacon groaned. "It was my roommate. Trying to stop him from freaking out."

"Mmhm. Roommate. Nice excuse," Jumper giggled.
Bacon sighed and slipped his phone away.

 

"I was thinking about this earlier," Jumper said suddenly. "What did you guys want to be? You know, before powers. Before hero work."

"I wanted to be an artist," Squiddo said first. "I still draw, but... I wanted people to know me for it. To have my art out there."
"I wanted to be a history teacher," Ash admitted. "Don't know why. Guess I always thought history mattered."
"Boring-ass job," Minute cut in.
"Shut up, Minute. What did you wanna be?" Ash shot back.
"An astronaut," Minute said proudly. "Soaring through space. First man on Mars. and then claim the whole planet for myself."
Ash groaned, laughing.
"I wanted to be a gymnast," Jumper added. "Anything to do with it, pro, teacher, whatever. I just loved it."
They all turned to Bacon.
He hesitated. "...I don't know. Maybe an architect. I used to draw houses with my roommates."
"Bet they were all boring boxes on rectangles," Minute teased.
"You wish, Mr. Colonizer," Bacon fired back.
Laughter rippled through the group.

Then silence again.
A safe, easy silence under the stars.
For once, Bacon felt calm. The weight on his chest eased, his heart slowed. He almost believed he could stay here forever.
And then—unwantedhis mind flashed to another night sky. To a rooftop. To a grin painted red and white.

Mane.

He blinked, forcing the thought away, focusing back on the warmth of his teammates beside him.
For once, he told himself. Just let yourself be safe.

But in the dark, when the city's noise faded, his mind whispered the name he didn't dare.

Mane.

He closed his eyes

"Bacon, don't fall asleep. I'm close enough to see your eyes through your shades."

"Oh my fucking gosh, minute im gonna kill you—"

Chapter Text

Bacon stood on an unusually high rooftop, the city's noise rising up to meet him. The rush of traffic below, the endless hum of voices, the way people shoved past each other on the crowded sidewalks—it all blended into a kind of white noise that almost felt calming.

That calm shattered with a sudden crash behind him.

"Ow!" a voice groaned.

Bacon didn't even flinch. He already knew who it was. Slowly, he turned.

"Seriously, dude?" he asked flatly.
Planet lay sprawled out across the roof like roadkill, a pure mess of a galaxy hoodie and white hair sticking out at wild angles. His mask—white with two dumb black squares for eyes and no mouth—did nothing to make him look less ridiculous.
"We're supposed to not get caught," Bacon said, rolling his eyes. "But clearly you want to."

Planet shot up into a seated position. "No I don't! I'm being very sneaky right now!"
Before Bacon could even answer, Jaron's voice crackled harshly through both their earpieces.
"Planet. I will strangle you."
Bacon burst out laughing.
Planet immediately twisted around, eyes locking on a security camera perched across the street. Without hesitation, he started waving at it like a maniac.
Jaron's long, audible sigh filled their earpieces.
Bacon shook his head, sitting down on the edge of the roof. A second later, Planet plopped down beside him.

"So," Planet said, dragging the word out.
Bacon glanced at him. "You wanna get Chinese later?"
"I'm gonna hit you," Planet replied instantly.
Bacon just shrugged, then flopped backward dramatically. His head smacked the rooftop with a loud crack.
"—Ow, fuck."

"OH, kitty!" Planet shouted.

Bacon sat up immediately, alarm sparking in his chest. "No. Planet. No."
But it was too late—Planet was already sprinting in messy circles after a small black cat.
"Dude... what? how the hell is a cat up here? We're on a roof."
"I watched it climb the pipes. Probably smelled you," Jaron said in his usual deadpan.
Bacon groaned. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"You stink," Planet answered cheerfully.
"I do not," Bacon shot back.
Planet didn't hear him—he was still chasing the cat like his life depended on it. The cat, naturally, looked one second away from tearing him to shreds.

 

"BACON! HE'S GONNA JUMP OFF WITH IT!"

 

Bacon's head snapped up. Sure enough, Planet was inching dangerously close to the roof's edge as the cat prepared to leap across to the next building.
"Planet—!"
He sprinted forward and tackled him before he could lunge. They both went down hard.
"AHHH, I'M BEING ATTACKED!" Planet shrieked at the top of his lungs. "BACON HELP!!!"
"Dude—I am the one who's got you!" Bacon yelled back, pinning him.
Jaron's laughter filled both their ears, raw and unrestrained.
"Dude, you're gonna get us caught and thrown in jail," Bacon muttered, still pinning Planet down.
"I will not!" Planet said, deeply offended, flailing his arms like a kid.
"Speaking of being caught," Jaron cut in, his voice calm in a way that made Bacon's stomach twist,
"Guess who's about five minutes away. Parrot. Big-shot hero."

Planet froze. "...You're saying that like you don't care if we get caught."
"Well, if you'd let me finish..." Jaron drawled. "Go to the rooftop next to you, behind Planet, hide by the roof entrance. If he gets too close, I'll tell you when to jump."
Bacon and Planet exchanged a look.

"Cool. Totally casual. Just—normal Saturday hiding from a top hero," Planet whispered.
"Planet, shut up and move," Bacon hissed, already dragging him toward the ledge.
They climbed down to the next rooftop, sticking to the shadows. The city below carried on like nothing was wrong—traffic, chatter, neon lights—but Bacon's pulse hammered in his ears. Planet nearly tripped over an AC unit, smacking it with his elbow, and the metallic clang rang louder than a gunshot.

"Shhh!" Bacon shoved him against the wall beside the roof entrance.
Planet's mask turned toward him. "What? He didn't hear that."
"EVERYONE heard that."
"I'm sneaky!"
"You're a disaster."
"Boys," Jaron's voice snapped in again, clipped this time. "He's on the block. Stay down."

Bacon pressed tighter against the wall, forcing Planet to do the same. From their perch, he caught the flicker of movement. Parrot gliding above the roof, eyes scanning rooftops. His feathers... were they actual feathers? shifted like armor with every gust of wind.

Planet leaned close, whispering, "what if i meowed"
Bacon shot him a glare. "shut up."

Jaron chuckled in their ears. "He's getting closeerrrrrr."
Parrot's gaze lingered. Just long enough for Bacon's lungs to lock.
Planet whispered, "He saw us."
"He didn't," Bacon whispered back, every word sharp.
"I think he did."
"You think too much."
"Bacon, I'm literally the brain here—"
"Neither of you are the brain," Jaron cut in, his tone sharp but shaky, like he was holding back laughter. "And shut the hell up. He's circling back."
Bacon's heart skipped. Planet's hand twitched toward the ledge like he was itching to do something stupid.
"No," Bacon hissed, gripping his sleeve.
"...Fine," Planet muttered. "But if we get caught, I'm blaming you."
Parrot swooped lower, the sound of his wing cutting through the air. His boots hit the next rooftop over with a heavy thunk.

Jaron's voice snapped: "Jump. Now."

Bacon didn't hesitate. He grabbed Planet's hoodie and yanked them both over the edge.
"AHHHHHHHHH—" Planet's scream tore out instantly.
"Shut up, shut up, shut up—!" Bacon hissed, trying not to scream himself as they plummeted.

They hit a rickety fire escape halfway down, the metal groaning before buckling just enough to break their fall. From there they tumbled into a mountain of cardboard boxes in the alley below. The crash was loud, painful, but not rooftop-loud.
Bacon groaned, rolling onto his back. His elbow throbbed, his ribs stung. But he was alive.
Next to him, Planet was already laughing, wheezing through the mask. "Dude—dude—we just fucking—" He broke into uncontrollable cackles.
Bacon couldn't help it—he started laughing too, breathless, nervous relief bubbling out of his chest.

"Shut up before he hears—" he tried, but his voice cracked mid-sentence, and that only made Planet laugh harder.
They both laid there, shaking with laughter in a pile of crushed cardboard.
Bacon untangled themselves from the garbage, brushing crushed noodles and dust off their clothes. Bacon was still grinning, against his better judgment, when Planet suddenly yelped.
"OW! what the fuck!"
Bacon whipped around. Planet had tripped over a half-buried combat boot in the trash pile, sprawled face-first onto the concrete.
"My ankle!" Planet groaned, rolling onto his back. "Dude, I sprained it"

Jaron's voice cut through their earpieces, flat with judgment. "You survived the fall but lost to an abandoned boot. Congratulations."
Planet flailed an arm at the nearest alley camera, groaning dramatically. "Don't roast me, help me!"

Bacon crouched beside him, stifling another laugh. "...You good?"
"No! I think the boot won!" Planet said sarcastically, sprawled in the trash.
Bacon just sighed. "Unbelievable..." He glanced toward the nearest camera. "Jaron, any blind spots?"
"Mm. Behind that dumpster," Jaron answered. "No one will see the light there."

 

Bacon hooked an arm under Planet and dragged him behind the dumpster, ignoring his dramatic groans. Dropping to one knee, he placed both hands gently over Planet's ankle. Immediately, his palms began to glow with a soft orange light.
"Wowie," Planet whispered, eyes wide behind his mask. "I forgot how cool your healing looks."
"Yeah, yeah." Bacon kept his focus, but the familiar wave of exhaustion tugged at him fast. His vision blurred at the edges, heavy and dark. He blinked hard, forcing it back.
Planet wiggled his foot experimentally, then broke into a little laugh. "I feel better!"
"You're welcome," Bacon said, a small smile tugging at his lips.
"Oh—yeah. Thanks, I guess," Planet replied, his voice playful, but softer than before.

"Alright," Jaron cut in, sharp as ever, "get out of the alley and go four blocks west. Parrot's heading east."
Planet and Bacon dusted themselves off and wandered until they found a quiet stretch of rooftop. They sank down together near the entrance, tucked safely in the shadows.
Without a word, Planet let his head rest against Bacon's shoulder.

"Ten bucks someone sees us and thinks we're a gay couple," Planet said flatly.
Bacon nearly choked on his spit.

"What—what???" He whipped his head toward Planet.
Jaron didn't miss a beat. "Dude, Planet, you are so... interesting."
Planet sighed like he was disappointed in both of them. "Gosh, can't a man have a big imagination nowadays?"
"Dude..." Bacon started, but quickly gave up.
"Bacon! Bacon! BACON!!!" Planet suddenly sang at full volume.
Bacon groaned.
"What."
"You know!" Planet perked up instantly. "One time when I was on patrol with Spoke and Leo, we got chased by uh... Minute!"
Bacon raised an eyebrow, despite himself. "...Go on."
"Okay okay," Planet said, "We were on the street—risky, I know—but then this little kid showed up. And Spoke just walks straight up to him and goes: 'Hey, can I borrow your scooter?' The kid says no, right? Totally normal. But then Spoke tells him that if he doesn't hand it over, he'll be on the naughty list forever."
Bacon blinked. "...No way."
"And the kid believed him!" Planet threw his hands in the air. "So Spoke takes the scooter, winds up, and chucks it straight at Minute!"
There was a long pause. Bacon just stared at him, horrified and confused all at once.
Finally, he put both hands on Planet's shoulders and said, dead serious: "How are you alive."
Planet tilted his masked head. "What?"
"How. Are. You. Alive."
"Uh, because I breathe?" Planet said, tilting his head like Bacon was the dumb one.

Bacon just squeezed his shoulders tighter. "That's not an answer."
Planet wriggled free, grinning under his mask. "Well, now that I told you a story—you gotta tell me one!"
Bacon hesitated. "...Uh, okay. Uhm. One time when me, Ash, Minute, Squiddo, and Jumper were on patrol... Jumper led us to this little stray cat park. She swore it was the cutest thing ever. And it was, I guess, until this kid walked up—like six years old, tops. She goes, 'Can I get a photo with Squiddo?'"
Planet snorted, already grinning.
Bacon continued, "So Squiddo's like, 'Yeah, buddy!' and does a whole peace sign pose. And then Minute—of course Minute—goes, 'What about me?' And the kid... she just frowns at him and says, 'I don't know you.'"
Planet burst into wheezing laughter, doubling over. "No way—no way that actually happened!"
"Oh, it did," Bacon said, trying not to laugh himself. "Minute looked like he was about to cry. The girl just skipped off, totally unimpressed."

"Minute got roasted by a toddler," Planet cackled. "God, I would've died to see that."
"You keep laughing like that and some heros gonna hear you two," Jaron cut in dryly through their earpieces.
"Also, can you guys get home,I swear I'm so tired of deleting camera footage so you two can hang out."
"Love you too, Jaron," Planet said sweetly, waving at another camera.
"STOP WAVING. I GET IT."
Bacon covered his face with one hand, groaning. "You're impossible."
Planet nudged him with his elbow, still giggling. "Admit it, though. You like my stories."
"Not as much as I like the peace and quiet without your stories," Bacon shot back, though the twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed a smile.
"Yeah, yeah," Planet grinned.
"Hey—down on the street, left alley. Some guy's trying to mug another," Jaron cut in.
"Not it," Planet said immediately, finger tapping his mask.
"Dude, what?" Bacon frowned.
"You go save them. I'll watch, then give you notes after," Planet smirked.
"Oh my god, fine."

Bacon slipped down the fire escape two steps at a time, dropping into the alley between the mugger and his victim. He stood there in silence until the man lunged. Bacon dodged easily, twisted his arm just enough to sting.
"Listen," he whispered, voice low and sharp. "You're gonna walk to the station and turn yourself in."
The mugger sneered. "And if I don't?"
Bacon twisted harder. Pain flashed across the man's face.
"Okay, okay!" he yelped. "I'll go!"
"I'll be watching," Bacon warned before letting him go. The man stumbled away toward the street.
Bacon sighed in relief...
"Wow! Scary Bacon, ouuuuu," Planet teased right behind him.
Bacon shrieked, whipping around. "Planet, what the fuck?! Where did you come from?"

"I watched him climb down right after you started whispering," Jaron chimed.

"Yeah, I was curious what you said to make him bolt," Planet added.
"Whatever. Jaron, track him, make sure he actually goes to the station."
"What's the magic word?" Jaron asked smugly.
"...Please," Bacon muttered flatly.
"Okay," Jaron sighed.

Planet's voice softened. "You did good. I just... wish you had that same confidence when it's them."
Bacon's shoulders slumped. "I know. It's just... hard, knowing they could kill me any second. That they're actively hunting me."
"It's okay. Jaron'll warn you if they get close, so you can run."
"Yeah, that's what he said last time," Bacon muttered. "And then he fell asleep."
In my defense, I barely slept the night before!" Jaron protested.
"Yeah, yeah." Bacon rolled his eyes.
Later that night, Bacon and Planet sat on a rooftop for the fifth time that day.
"Dude, I'm so boredddd," Planet groaned.
"Yeah, me too... Wanna get food?"
"Let's go to the super-duper secret hideout."
"Yeah, whatever."

They slipped through alleys and shadows until they reached the studio apartment, climbing in through the window. Inside: three beanbags, a tiny coffee table, drawers stacked haphazardly against the wall.
Bacon shut the window, tugged the blackout curtains into place, then pulled off his mask. Planet dropped onto a beanbag and yanked his off too.

"You look so stupid," Bacon said.
"You're just jealous I get all the men."
"No, you don't," Jaron cut in.
Bacon chuckled, swapping into a brown zip-up and baggy cargos.
"Typical boring color scheme," Planet sighed.
"Dude, you only wear purple and blue."
"Yeah, because that's original."
"You look like a blueberry-grape smoothie," Bacon shot back.
"He's not wrong," Jaron added.
"Blah, blah, blaaa," Planet groaned dramatically.
Bacon flopped onto the beanbag beside him, scrolling his phone.
"Go change, I wanna grab food."
"Fine, impatient ass."
Planet returned in a purple hoodie and black sweats.
"No way you called me basic in that," Bacon said.
"Blah, blah, blaaa," Planet repeated, grinning.
They wandered down the street, ducking into shops, buying random junk. Planet nearly toppled into a fountain. Jaron warned them about a villain nearby, killing their Panda Express plan.

 

"Dude, I'm so mad. I wanted Panda Express."
"Pizza instead?"
"Sure, whatever."
The small pizza shop was half-full, another group crowded in the corner. Bacon glanced once—his stomach dropped. The elevator people. The ones he thought had been following him.
He inched closer to Planet.
"Hey, let's get it to go. Jaron'll be pissed if we eat without him."
"Yeah, true. He'd definitely get mad," Planet said.
Bacon risked another look. The group was staring straight at them. He jolted, and just as fast, they snapped their gazes away. Pretending.
Planet grabbed their order, and they slipped out fast, heading back toward the apartment.

"Don't pretend I don't know you were planning on getting pizza without me."
Both of them jumped. They'd forgotten to take out their earpieces.
"Holy shit, Jaron," Bacon hissed.

Chapter Text

Mane leaned back on the couch, the glow of a small white lamp throwing shadows across the living room.

Flame was sprawled in the armchair opposite him, mask tossed on the coffee table between them.
Around the room, their crew moved in their usual rhythm, bickering over snacks, trading jabs, laughing too loud for people who were supposed to be planning something dangerous.

The place didn't look like the home of wanted villains. It looked lived-in. Warm, almost. Stacks of mismatched mugs in the sink, posters tacked crooked on the walls, a blanket half-hanging off the couch like someone had crashed there and never bothered fixing it.
To outsiders,
they were the wanted criminals, evil, chaotic, the blindfold brothers. A name spat by heroes and whispered by civilians. But here, under their own roof, they were just... them.
Mane rubbed the edge of his temple with his thumb, his thoughts drifting when he didn't mean them to.
A face flashed uninvited in his head. Bacon.
The stupid shades.
The way he..

 

"Yo." Flame snapped his fingers in front of him. "You zoning out again? We're actually trying to plan here."
Mane's jaw tightened. "I'm listening," he lied, shoving the thought away.

But he wasn't.

The rest of the group, Kaboodle, Hannah, Clown, and Branzy were already bickering about something pointless.

 

Kaboodle was loud, strong, and, if Mane was being honest, a little stupid. Not in a way he hated, though. She had this knack for knowing exactly what to say at the right time, and that made her dangerous in a different way.

 

Hannah sat close by, her best friend, basically Kab's sister in everything but blood. Mane didn't mind her. She was funny, random, and her power? Useful as hell.

 

And then there was Clown.
The name alone made people shiver. Scary. Evil. Heartless.
Mane knew better. He knew Clown. Under the mask, he was just a guy who wanted to spend time with his boyfriend and live a life most people would call normal.

 

Speaking of...
Mane's eyes slid to Branzy,
the quiet figure by Clown's side. Branzy was... complicated. Was he a villain? A vigilante? A hero playing double-agent? Or just some civilian who'd wandered too close to the fire?
Mane didn't know.
Nobody did.
Clown's trust in him was absolute, and that was enough. For now.

 

Finally, Mane's gaze landed on Flame, sitting right next to him on the couch. Flame wasn't complicated. He was his brother—not by blood, but by bond. The one who had saved him. The reason he was here. That was all that mattered.

 

"MANE!" Kaboodle's voice cut through his head like a blade.
He flinched, snapping his head toward her.
"Are you okay? Seriously." Flame leaned forward, brows furrowed.
"This is the tenth time you've zoned out," Branzy added, worry edging his voice.
Mane straightened, forcing a calm tone. "I—I'm fine. No need to worry."
"You don't seem like it!" Hannah frowned.
"I promise you guys, I wouldn't keep anything big from you," Mane forced a small smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"Dude, seriously—talk to us if you're worried," Clown added.
"Yeah, yeah, I know." Mane rolled his eyes, trying to push away the hollow feeling in his chest.
"Okay..." Kaboodle said, changing the subject. "Which hero should we go after next?"

Mane's mind dove to Bacon before he meant it to. Bacon and that stupid brown scarf. The one Mane wanted to strangle...and the one he wanted to steal and keep. Heat crawled up his neck. What the hell was wrong with him?
He shoved the thought back down so hard his jaw ached.

"How about Parrot?" Hannah offered.
"I was thinking Zam," Flame said.
"Can't do that, Mapic would tear you apart," Clown sighed.
"Oh! speaking of Mapic, where has he been?" Kab asked.
"Stalking Zam, or off with Wemmbu," Branzy said with a small smile.
"Of course," Hannah sighed. Mane found himself smiling at the image of Mapic nervously traipsing after Zam. Cute, really. A small, ridiculous warmth, then the prick of being single returned.
"How about Jumper or Squiddo?" Clown suggested.
"Aww, I kinda like Squiddo—her energy's contagious," Hannah said. "Would love a good duel with her though."
"I like Jumper. She's so...jumpy. Name fits," Kab grinned. "Me and Hannah should do a 2v2 with them sometime."
"I'd watch that," Branzy said, amused.
"Okay, Ash or Minute?" someone asked.
"Ehh, Ash's usually with Squiddo—hard to catch him solo," Mane added. Flame nodded, quiet.
"Minute's power is annoying!" Flame snapped suddenly. "Last time I fought him he dodged everything—instant. So unfair." They all laughed at Flame's fake indignation.

"Ooh, Mane, you're gonna love this—Bacon!" Kaboodle said, eyes lighting up.

Mane's face went dark in a way he didn't like. Something else threaded through it, too—a guilty, stupid heat that made his mouth dry.

"Yeah, as if I like getting close to him," he scoffed.

"You were literally gonna jump on him and tear him apart last time!" Kab protested.
"Yeah, because I was angry," he snapped too quickly. Then, forcing himself calmer, he closed his eyes and leaned back.
"I'm a peaceful person now. Extremely calm, and peaceful."
"As if," Flame muttered. "You still wanna kill him or torture him."
"That would be...nice," Mane heard himself say, and the word echoed in the room, half joke, half promise.
They laughed, pushed back into plans and trash talk and schemes, but Mane's eyes kept returning to that impossible, aggravating, infuriating thought:
Bacon,
and the way the scarf looked when he tugged it up, and the way he trembled even when he didn't show it.

Dangerous.
Annoying.
Intrusive.

Mane hated it. And for the first time in a while, he wasn't sure hatred was the right word.
"Whatever — doesn't matter!" he said, forcing the heat away.
"Can we go patrol?" Kaboodle asked, twisting a strand of hair around a finger.
"Ehh, don't feel like it," Clown said, already slouching.
"Are you saying that because Branzy can't come?" Flame teased.
"What!! noooo! I just—yeah, you're right," Clown huffed.

Branzy grinned like he'd been waiting for this. "I always suggested to Clown that I should get a costume and come out with you guys a few times, but he's always like,
'No! No Branzy, you'll die!'"
He mimed a panicked voice and the room dissolved into laughter.
Clown's face flushed. "I'm gonna kill you, Branzy."
"As if," Branzy sang.
Kaboodle brightened.
"Okay, but what if for once Branzy comes out? He's a villain for a day. We'll be extra careful. Pinky promise!" She held up a hand like it was sealed.

Clown looked torn, weighing it, then finally nodded.
"Okay—but if Branzy gets hurt, I'm killing all of you." His tone was flat, but the smile tugging at his mouth gave him away.
"Oh yay!" Branzy cheered.
"Wait! what should your villain outfit be?" Hannah asked, folding her arms in mock-seriousness.
"How about this...hear me out, white dress shirt, black vest with purple stitching, and hmm"
"Black cargos?" Mane offered, deadpan.
Hannah's eyes lit up. "Oh, that's perfect!"

Mane only said it because he knew Bacon wore cargos, the stupid brown ones, and the thought curled at the back of his throat.

Flame shot him a look; Mane raised an eyebrow and held it there.
"Okay, wait! I think I have an old white dress shirt I never used," Flame said, sounding proud.

"Alright, get it then," Kaboodle said, clapping.
"I can make the vest—well, I'll need the vest" Hannah already had stitching materials out like a magician with a trick.
"Hannah... where on earth did you get that?" Clown asked, genuinely baffled.
Hannah just smirked. "A lady never tells her secrets."
"I have a black vest," Mane said suddenly, flat.
"Dude, you do not seem like the person to wear a vest," Branzy laughed.
"Yes I am. I am wearing one right now," Mane snapped, only marginally joking.
"That's more like combat-ish!" Clown protested.
"Whatever," Mane muttered, and the conversation slid back into friendly chaos.

 

They stood on the roof, silhouettes against the city glow. Branzy crouched at the lip, eyes hidden by black shades tracking people below. Clown's tone tightened. "Okay, now don't get too close," he said, worry going through his voice.
Branzy looked up at him, expression impassive behind the mask.
Mane felt that old thrum again — an animal twitch in his ribs — the way the rooftop smelled like dust and electricity and danger.
Branzy's shadow looking exactly like Bacons,

Mane's thoughts snapped, unbidden, to the brown scarf and 'hidden' eyes he'd wanted to wipe from his memory.
He wanted to catch Bacon. Not a shove, not a scare — catch him where he couldn't vanish. Find his life and unravel it. Make him spit out everything that left Mane looking like a fool. Because that was what humiliation felt like, and Mane didn't like it. He didn't like being small in anybody's story.
That thought spun, and for a second Mane knew it sounded insane. But even as he chastised himself, another, sharper feeling slid in behind it: wanting more than to punish. It was rough and unfamiliar and made his jaw ache. He pushed it down, hard; there would be time for that later.

 

"Mane oh my gosh!" Hannah barked suddenly
"What?"
"Look! LOOK!" she hissed, jabbing with a trembling finger.
Mane followed the line and his chest tightened. There, a block over, under a pool of sodium light, Bacon lounged on a low wall, scarf up, hands tucked, and next to him, easy and somehow wrong, was Planet.
The vigilante's galaxy hoodie and streaks of white hair poking out. It made Planet look like a bad postcard from chaos; he lounged like he owned the roof, legs dangling, it looked like he laughed at something Bacon said, throwing his head back and falling backwards. The sight should have been fuel: a hero with a vigilant, a breach of tidy categories. It made Mane's skin prickle.

 

"Who is that?" Mane asked, voice too tight.
"That's PlanetLord," Branzy answered without looking away. "Vigilante. Runs with Leo and Spoke. Very chaotic."
"Are they fighting?" Flame asked, leaning forward.
"No. Looks like... hanging out," Branzy said.
"Odd," Kaboodle said. "Aren't heroes supposed to chase vigilantes?"
"Well no duh, they're vigilantes," Hannah rolled her eyes.
"Rude," Kab muttered.
"Don't you dare be planning to attack them both right now," Flame said quietly, reading the shift.
"No," Mane heard himself say. "It's better."
"What is it?" Clown asked, intrigued.
"You'll see." Mane's voice was low and too confident to be fully true.

 

They lingered, watching. For a second, Mane saw Bacon's true nature, calm, unafraid, not carrying the weight of the world. Just... having fun. The sight made Mane's blood boil, but it also cracked something open inside him. Something sweet. Something jealous.
His hands curled into fists. The plan sharpened: not an ambush, not a burst of rage, a patient thing. He'd study. Learn Bacon's routes. The little comforts he clung to, that stupid brown scarf, this vigilant. He'd find the soft points, then decide. Break him, if he had to. Or drag the truth out of him piece by piece.

 

"Stop trying to be mysterious, bro. You look stupid doing this 'super evil thinking' thing," Flame cut in.
Mane whipped his head toward him, blindfold tilting, giving Flame the nastiest glare he could manage without words.

 

"Stop looking at me like that," Flame said flatly.
"Stop insulting me!" Mane snapped, pouting despite himself.
"Not my fault all you think about is that dude! Sometimes I wonder if you just wanna kiss him. You do all this evil crap just to get closer to him, don't you?" Flame teased.
"Wha—shut up!" Mane exploded, immediately pouncing on him. They tumbled across the roof in a tangle, Flame screaming for help as the rest of the group filled the silence with laughter.

 

"You two are definitely something..." Branzy sighed, shaking his head.
"Something awesome," Flame wheezed, trying to shove Mane off.
"More like something embarrassing," Hannah said, giggling.
"Embarrassing?!" Mane barked, sitting up with his hair sticking out at every angle. "I am the least embarrassing person here!"
Kab snorted so loud she almost choked. "Bro, you literally pouted two seconds ago."
"I did not pout!" he defensively said
"You definitely pouted," Clown said, completely deadpan, which only made everyone laugh harder.
Mane threw his hands up. "I hate all of you."
"No, you don't," Flame said smugly, finally wriggling free.
"Yes, I do! All of you!" Mane pouted, still sprawled on the floor.
Hannah immediately snapped a photo, grinning.
"See? You're pouting again!" Kab said.
"I am not!" Mane barked.
Hannah held up the photo. "Yes, you are."
"Delete that—my image will be ruined!" Mane snapped.
"Nah, I'm keeping it," she smirked.
A cough broke their laughter.

 

They turned. Parrot and Minute stood at the edge of the roof.

 

"Hey..." Clown said quickly, moving in front of Branzy.
"Who's that?" Parrot asked bluntly.
"Who?" Mane echoed, feigning innocence. He forced himself to be calm; if Branzy got hurt, Clown would never forgive any of them.
"Don't play dumb," Minute cut in. "Who's the extra?"
"None of your business," Flame said, already bristling.
"Then we'll find out the hard way," Minute replied.

Flame hurled a fireball.

"Run!" Kab shouted, yanking Branzy toward the ledge.

They scrambled down, Clown throwing up an illusion to keep Parrot and Minute busy. The others didn't stop running until they landed in a dark alley.
"Fuck! we were so close to getting caught," Flame groaned.
"When is Clown coming back?" Branzy asked nervously.
"Don't worry," Hannah said. "He'll either scare them off or slip away if they call backup."
"Yeah, he never gets stuck," Kab added.
Branzy still looked uneasy.
"Let's just head back to my house, " Mane muttered.
"Our house," Flame corrected.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

 

By the time they reached home, Clown was already on the couch, mask on the table, blood smeared across it.
"Dude, what the fuck—how are you here already?" Mane groaned.
"I'm just like that." Clown grinned.
"Get off the couch, you're bleeding everywhere!" Mane snapped.
"Nah."
"Whose blood?" Flame asked.
"Parrot's. Got his leg with my scythe. Didn't kill him, though. They ran."
Branzy sat down next to him, pulling off his mask.
"How do you guys even wear these things?"
"Me and Flame don't," Mane muttered.
"Then I wasn't asking you," Branzy shot back.
One by one, Kab and Hannah tossed their masks into the pile.
Clown continued to talk about the 2v1 he did, bragging about the good slice he got with his scythe,

"I'm starving," Flame groaned.
"You're always starving," Mane said automatically.
"Are you calling me fat?"
"yes."
"Let's get pizza," Hannah offered.
"That place we went to? Best stuff ever." kab asked

 

Minutes later they crowded into a corner booth, Flame practically drooling over fries.
"Dude, you weren't kidding," he mumbled around a mouthful.
"Can I get one?" Kab asked, eyeing his basket.
"No," Flame snapped darkly. "Last time I gave you one, you ate them all."

 

The doorbell jingled. Mane glanced up and froze.

 

Two figures walked in: brown hair, brown jacket, baggy cargos. Beside him, white hair, purple hoodie.
The group noticed Mane stiffen. Their eyes followed his.
"Why are we staring at those guys?" Flame whispered.
"Just curious," Mane muttered.

The brown-haired man looked back, sharp and cautious. Mane's stomach lurched. He ducked his head, pretending to scroll through his phone.
The others did the same, the table suddenly too quiet.
A few minutes later, the two slipped out with their food. Mane caught only the muffled sound of one laughing before the bell jingled again.

 

Mane let out a sigh.

"Dude, you watching every brunette now? Guess we know your type," Hannah teased.
Mane only scoffed.
"At least deny it! You're making it so obvious!" Kab pressed, grinning.
Heat rushed to Mane's face. He immediately covered his nose and cheeks with one hand. "I do not like any brunettes!"
"Aww, little Mane figured out his taste. So grown now," Flame teased, flopping dramatically against him.
"Get off! I hate you guys, I swear!" Mane groaned, burying his face in his hands.

 

The whole booth burst into laughter, their noise filling the corner of the restaurant.

 

"Oh! and then after that! Clown and I decided to take a shortcut through a park, right? While we were running, we ended up cutting straight through this birthday party. Totally ruined the vibe... but whatever! We were weaving past kids, trying not to trip, when out of nowhere I hear the girliest scream of my life, worse than Mane's!"
"Rude," Mane muttered.
"I look back," Kab went on, grinning, "and Clown is just sprawled on the ground. Laid out like roadkill. A big rock under his foot! One of the kids starts cracking up, and Clown... Clown looks this seven-year-old dead in the eyes and threatens him!"
"The little kid was about to pee himself!" Kab added, still laughing.
"No one shall laugh at me," Clown said seriously. "My image is too important to allow that."
"Oh my god..." Branzy sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"I told him to stop threatening kids because they don't know any better, but his ego is too big."
"Rightfully so. I am far too powerful," Clown declared, grabbing another breadstick dramatically.
"You literally tripped on a rock," Flame deadpanned.
"A strategic fall," Clown corrected.
"That's not a thing!" Hannah laughed.
"It is when I do it," Clown said smugly, crossing his arms.
Mane snorted into his drink. "Imagine being taken down by a pebble."
"I'll take you down next, blindfold boy," Clown shot back.
"Try me." Mane leaned back in his seat, smirking.
"Okay, no fighting in the pizza place," Branzy said quickly, waving his slice like a referee flag. "Last thing we need is to get kicked out before I finish my fries."
"Of course you'd say that," Hannah teased. "You've been guarding that fry basket like it's treasure."
"Because Flame keeps staring at it like a starving wolf ever since he finished his own" Branzy shot back.
"Because I am starving!" Flame groaned. "I told you I was super hungry before we even left the house!"
"And I said you're always hungry," Mane muttered.
"Exactly! Which means you should respect it!" Flame said, pointing at Mane as though it was a valid argument.
They all laughed again.

From the other side of the table, Kab leaned back with a grin. "You know who would've loved this? Mapic. Bet he's sulking at home stalking Zam right now."
"Oh totally," Hannah said. "He wouldn't even eat! he'd just sit there ranting about how cute Zam looks when he's mad."
"That's so accurate it hurts," Branzy laughed.
"Eh, his loss," Flame said through a mouthful of pizza. "More food for us."
"Yeah, but now he's missing out on Mane blushing over brunettes," Kab teased, giving Mane a nudge.
"Shut up, thats not relevant!" Mane barked, immediately covering his face with his hands again.
"Classic," Hannah said, pulling out her phone like she was going to snap another photo.
Mane peeked through his fingers. "Don't. Even. Think. About it."
"Too late," she grinned, already pretending to line up the shot.
"Delete it or I'm setting your phone on fire," Flame threatened, holding up a spark in his palm.
"Touch my phone and I'll actually kill you," Hannah shot back.

"Guys, please," Branzy sighed, sinking into the booth. "Some of us are just trying to enjoy our peaceful, normal dinner without threats of arson and murder."
"Then you chose the wrong people, little old Branzy," Clown smirked.

"How do you even call someone old and then little?" Hannah questioned.
"By saying it with your mouth, duh," Clown said, laying his head on Branzy's shoulder.
Flame pretended to gag at the sight.
"Gays..." Kab muttered jokingly.
"like you and Hannah?" Mane blurted out before his brain caught up. His eyes went wide. "Oops."
"HANNAH IS MY SISTER!" Kab shouted.
"MANE, WHAT THE FUCK!" Hannah barked, her voice sharp.

"I'M SORRY!" Mane shrieked, scooting away as Hannah stood up, thorns already bristling from her hands.
"PLEASE, I DIDN'T MEAN IT!" Mane yelped. He turned to Flame. "HELP ME!"
"Your fault..." Flame shrugged, already reaching across the table.
As the chaos got worse, Flame casually stole a fry from Branzy's basket, then, without shame, stole the whole thing.

A few minutes later, they all stood outside the restaurant.
"Dude, that was so not my fault," Mane muttered, brushing himself off.
"YES IT WAS!" Hannah snapped. "You're the reason we got kicked out of the restaurant!!"
Flame stood off to the side, still holding the basket of fries he was definitely not supposed to take.
Clown, holding hands with Branzy, squinted at him.
"Aren't those your fries?"
Branzy immediately looked at Flame, glaring. "How ironic—you complain about someone stealing your fries, and then you steal mine."
"I deserve these fries," Flame said solemnly, clutching the basket to his chest like treasure.
More yelling erupted to their left. Mane was on the ground, curled up dramatically as Hannah poked at him with her thorns, not enough to hurt, just enough to terrify him.
"FUCK YOU, MANE!" Hannah yelled.
"I'M SORRY!!! SAVE ME!" Mane cried out, rolling around like it was the end of the world.
"Hannah, leave the poor guy alone," Flame sighed, chewing a fry.
"This once," Hannah growled, backing off with a final glare. "But watch your back!"
They started walking down the street, still loud, still messy. Mane nearly got smacked again.. Twice, before Kab and Hannah finally relented. Clown and Branzy trailed a little behind, fingers laced. Flame stayed smug with his basket of fries.

Mane shoved his hands into his pockets. "I really do hate all of you," he muttered, though the corner of his mouth betrayed the tiniest smile.
"SHUT UP!" Hannah yelled.
"Leave me alone!" Mane cried, his voice cracking.

The group erupted again, their laughter echoing down the street.

 

On the walk home, Kab and Hannah wouldn't stop teasing Mane. Clown and Branzy were subtly flirting, and Flame was just being himself — trailing behind, munching on fries like they were treasure.
Kaboodle glanced back, spotted him a step behind her, and smirked. She stuck her foot out. Flame tripped.
"NO—YOU ASSHOLE!" Flame yelped, eyes practically tearing up as the basket tumbled.
Kaboodle had a mischievous grin plastered across her face.
"Guess karma came back for stealing mine," Branzy giggled.
"Why, world, what have I done to deserve this? Am I in hell?" Flame groaned dramatically, dragging himself up. He immediately latched onto Mane's arm like a drowning man.
"Save me from those DEMONS!"
"Didn't you call yourself the immortal demon yesterday on patrol? Handle it yourself," Mane deadpanned.
"You traitor," Flame gasped, staggering back like he'd been stabbed.
He launched into a long, exaggerated monologue about betrayal and vengeance that lasted the rest of the walk, to everyone's amusement.

 

By the time they finally made it back, the group collapsed into Mane and Flame's living room, sprawling across the couch and floor like they owned the place.

"I regret ever meeting you all," Flame groaned, flopping face-first into a pillow. "You are traitors, every last one of you. Sent from HQ to destroy me. They knew I was too powerful."
"Yeah, sure," Clown snorted, rolling his eyes. "Keep writing your little fanfiction in your head."
"I will get my revenge," Flame declared, pointing dramatically at Mane. "Especially on you, my ex-brother. A full brown traitor!" He kicked Mane lightly with his foot.
"Ow! Bitch!" Mane yelped, clutching his knee.
"Fuck you!" Flame snapped back.

"I wanna watch a movie," Kaboodle announced from where she was sprawled on the rug.
"Me too!" Branzy chimed, already kicking his shoes off.
"Fine, I guess," Clown added, dropping next to him.
"Dont let kab pick!" Hannah said immediately, raising her hands.
"Why not! I never get to pick!" Kab complained.
"Yeah, because last time you picked and we got stuck watching that three-hour bunny documentary," Hannah shot back.
"It was educational!" Kaboodle argued.
"It was boring as hell," Mane muttered, pulling a blanket over himself like he was done with everyone.
"Fine then, what do you wanna watch, Mr. Complains-a-Lot?" Kab snapped.
"...Fast and Furious," Mane said dead serious.

The whole room went quiet.

"Of course," Flame groaned into his pillow. "This guy wants to watch cars."
"Cars are cool!" Mane defended.
"You're not cool," Hannah fired back.
"Fuck you," Mane pouted, sinking deeper into the blanket.
"Aw, don't pout, you'll ruin your villain image," Branzy mimicked mane.
"Shut up," Mane mumbled, cheeks going faintly pink.
Clown leaned into Branzy, smirking. "Honestly, though, seeing Mane pout is funnier than any other comedy movie."
"FUCK YOU," Mane snapped, tossing a cushion at him.
"JUST PICK A MOVIE OR I SWEAR I'M SETTING THE COUCH ON FIRE!" Flame barked.
"Do it, I dare you," Mane shot back, glaring.
"Don't test me," Flame warned.

 

"Can we watch the Minion movies in order?" Clown ventured, like it was the most reasonable request in the world.
The room blinked at him.
"The Minion movies?" Kaboodle repeated, incredulous.
"You know what — sure," Flame sighed. "Clown never chooses anything, so fine. Minions it is."
"Yay!" Clown said, delighted and faint.

 

Two movies and some serious popcorn casualties later, the room had dissolved into a warm, rumbling quiet. Everyone drifted off like upended plush toys — Kaboodle snoring, Branzy curled against Clown, Hannah's foot twitching as she dreamed, Flame half-on, half-off the couch. Mane was the only one still awake.

 

He eased up from the couch so carefully it could have been a ceremony. The house hummed around him, the fridge downstairs, the thin hiss of the heater, distant city noise that felt politely far away. Mane padded to his room, dropped his jacket on a chair, and moved to the window like he did when he needed air without people asking if he was "okay."

He climbed the sill, swung his legs onto the roof, and sat with his back against the cool brick. The night unfolded above him: a scatter of indifferent stars, a slice of neon, the city smelling faintly of oil and someone's late fries. He let the quiet settle in and thought of

Bacon.

It had been simple at first — annoyance, the need to fix humiliation with rage — but the memories clung and softened into something else. How could a rookie with a short-range teleport and a faded brown scarf unsettle him so much? The name Bacon lodged somewhere behind Mane's teeth and wouldn't leave.
The way the hero had flinched.
The scarf.
That ridiculous, stubborn comfort he wrapped around his face.
Mane's head was a tangle of curiosity and irritation. He was sure of two things: he wanted to know more, and he didn't entirely trust the reasons why.
Not now, he told himself. Not the big messy plan. Tonight was just watching, learning from a distance, letting the thought sit and rot or bloom — he couldn't decide which. He'd watch. That was all.

 

"Yo."

 

Mane glanced down to see Flame leaning out his window, hair a mess, eyes still a little hazy from sleep.
"What."
"You're loud with your thoughts. Could practically hear them from downstairs," Flame muttered, climbing out and joining him on the roof. He plopped down next to Mane, pulling his hoodie tighter against the night breeze.

"So? What's eating you?"

Mane stared at the stars for a long moment before answering. "...Bacon."
Flame groaned dramatically, leaning back on his elbows.
"Of course. Figures. Out of everything in this world, you're up here thinking about a guy named after breakfast food."
"Shut up," Mane muttered, but he didn't sound angry. "It's not—like that. I just... he's not some rookie. Not with the way HQ keeps him around. There's something else to him. Something they're hiding or he's hiding. And if I figure it out, maybe we can use him. Maybe he's the key to slipping into HQ again."
Flame blinked at him, then gave a low whistle. "So you were plotting."
Mane's lips curled into the faintest smirk.
"Not plotting. Strategizing."

"That's just plotting but with bigger words," Flame said flatly, then bumped his shoulder against Mane's.
"But hey—if you've got an idea, I'm not gonna shoot it down. Better than you sulking all night."
"I wasn't sulking," Mane muttered automatically, though his face warmed.
"Sure, sure." Flame tilted his head back, eyes half-shut. "So what's the plan, genius?"

Mane hesitated, then leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees.
"...Use Planet as bait. Bacon's soft for him, that much is obvious. Lure him out, test him, see what he can really do. If he's worth the risk, maybe... maybe we use him to get into HQ. Grab files, burn the place down, whatever keeps people safer from that corrupted mess."

For once, Flame didn't joke. He let the silence stretch, the hum of the city filling in the gaps. Then he said, quietly,
"That's dangerous, you know. Even for us."
"I know." Mane's voice was firm. "But if it works, it could change everything."
Finally, Flame huffed and leaned back, stretching out on the roof. "Fine. But if you're dragging us into another HQ mess, I'm picking the code name this time."
Mane snorted. "Like hell you are."

"Too late. Operation Bacon Bits. Already decided."

Mane shoved him, but the push lacked any real force. Flame just laughed, the sound warm against the cool night air. For the first time that night, Mane let the corners of his mouth twitch into something close to a smile.

 

"Thank you for listening," he murmured, almost too soft to hear.
Flame glanced at him, then shrugged with a faint grin. "Of course."

 

The roof settled into silence, the city buzzing quietly beneath them. For a little while, neither of them needed to say anything more.

Chapter Text

Bacon lay flat on the couch, one arm flopped over the edge, scarf bunched under his cheek. The clock on the wall said something between three and six. He didn't bother checking closer. Too early to call it morning, too late to call it night. The kind of hour where the city sounded alive and dead all at once.
Planet was asleep on the other couch, one leg hanging off, snoring faintly. Jaron had passed out at his desk again, face half-buried in his arms, papers scattered like he'd been mid-lecture to no one before crashing. Both of them looked calm.

Unbothered.

 

Bacon stared at the ceiling until the cracks blurred. He tried closing his eyes, tried slowing his breathing, but sleep wouldn't come. Every time he hovered near it, the memory returned—Mane's words, Mane's eyes, Mane's voice. A shiver cut down his spine.

He sighed and let his head roll back.
He didn't know how much time had passed before he felt movement. Blinking, he pushed himself up on an elbow. Planet was shuffling groggily off the couch, hair sticking up on one side, blanket trailing after him.

"Hi," Bacon muttered, voice rough.
"You look horrible," Planet said flatly.
"Didn't sleep."
"You just were?"
"Just had my eyes closed."
Planet gave him a long look and sighed. "Go to sleep."
"Can't do that." Bacon's own sigh scraped his throat.

Planet dragged a hand over his face, muttering something about stubborn idiots, and padded toward the kitchen. Bacon lay still, eyes fixed on the dark ceiling.
His thoughts started to wander. He pulled out his phone, thumb flicking through random apps—old games he hadn't opened in months, a feed full of news he didn't care about, grainy pictures of people's breakfasts. Anything to keep his mind from chewing on itself.

He knew he should sleep.
He wanted to sleep.

But with the sun starting to rise, it felt impossible. Like the day was already pushing him forward whether he was ready or not.
With a frustrated sigh, he tossed his phone across the couch. It landed facedown with a dull thud.
A rustle came from Jaron's desk. Bacon turned his head just in time to see him sit up, rubbing his eyes, hair sticking out at weird angles.

"Oh hey, man," Jaron mumbled, blinking toward him. "You good?"
"Didn't sleep. Dunno why." Bacon rolled to his side, voice flat.
"You should. You look like a zombie." Jaron smirked faintly at his own joke.
Bacon gave the smallest smile back—barely a twitch, more for Jaron's sake than his own.
"You sure you're gonna be good today?" There was a thread of worry under Jaron's voice, one he was trying not to make obvious.
"I'll be good. No worry." Bacon blinked hard, eyes burning.
"...Okay." Jaron didn't sound convinced, but he pushed himself up and wandered toward the kitchen anyway.
Soon, the quiet hum of Jaron and Planet's chatter filled the apartment. Something normal, something steady. Bacon couldn't bring himself to join in.
Instead, he groped for the remote, clicking on the TV.

The anchor's voice droned on:
"More critics argue that heroes hide their corruption behind the word 'protection.' But what about vigilantes—are they truly any better?"

Bacon scoffed under his breath, thumb tapping against the remote before setting it down again. It was easier to keep the noise going than sit in silence with his own thoughts. Still, the words hit harder than he wanted to admit.
Being new-ish to all this was bad enough, but being seen with heroes like
Minute,
Jumper,
Squiddo,
and Ash
only made it worse. Every time a camera flashed, the story already wrote itself: "Bigshot heroes adopt a newcomer." "Charity case rookie." The headlines painted him like some kid they dragged along to make themselves look generous.
Like he couldn't handle villains on his own.
The worst part was... he knew none of them saw him that way.
Not Jumper with his bright optimism, or Minute with his endless teasing, or Squiddo who always treated him like he belonged, or Ash who, even in his confusion, tried to include him.

They weren't the problem.
The problem was the world watching from the outside, ready to slot him into the role of "rookie underdog," never his own person.

 

He hated it.

 

He hated how it made him doubt himself.
He wished he wasn't known at all.
Or if he was, that it wasn't because of them—that the only reason his name came up was because of what he'd done, not who he stood next to in the photos. He wanted to earn his own title. To be talked about because he tried, because he pushed himself, because he mattered. Not because he was the one standing a step behind heroes with brighter reputations.

But even as the thought burned in his chest, his stomach twisted. Because he knew the truth, the one he couldn't say out loud. He wasn't ready for villains. Not really. Every fight rattled him. Every time someone raised their weapon, every time their voice sharpened with the intent to kill, his heart stuttered. He could fake it—he could smirk, he could throw back words, he could stand his ground—but it was still an act, wasn't it?
And the act was exhausting.
The world called him "new blood." A fresh face. The rookie. And maybe they were right.
Bacon shifted, pulling the scarf higher under his chin even though no one was watching. The weight of it was familiar, at least, grounding. He stared at the flicker of the TV screen, but his thoughts slipped past the news, slipping somewhere else entirely.
Mane.
He clenched his jaw.

 

Mane hadn't seen him as charity.
Mane didn't treat him like the rookie tagging along for scraps of validation.
No, Mane had looked at him like usual prey. Weak, maybe, but never pathetic. Never a pity project. His words had cut, sure—but at least they'd been sharp. Real.
And somehow, that stung less than being smiled at for the cameras.

 

Bacon shook the thought off. That was dumb. Extremely stupid. He was running on fumes; that was all. Lack of sleep had him thinking in circles, dragging enemies into places they didn't belong. This was his day off. One day to breathe, to be himself, to not obsess over propaganda and villains and fights he might never win. He needed to sleep.
He closed his eyes. Counted the seconds. Tried to let his body sink into the couch cushions. It didn't work. His brain refused to quiet.

 

"Bacoonn? Want waffles?"

 

His eyes cracked open. Planet shuffled in from the hallway, hair a mess, one sock on, rubbing at his face.
"Mm. Not hungry," Bacon mumbled.
A complete lie, and they both knew it.
"You either get up, or I'm dragging you." Planet's voice was flat, like this wasn't up for debate.
"Fine." Bacon pushed himself up, stretching his arms until his shoulders popped.

The kitchen light burned a little too bright for his tired eyes. Jaron was already at the table, hunched over his phone. He didn't even look up when Bacon entered.

"Bacon," Jaron said casually, still scrolling.

"Do you know why Mapic stalks Zam so much?"

 

Bacon blinked, still half-asleep. "...Why?"
"I came across a video, people are making conspiracy theories. Some say they're secretly in love." Jaron delivered it completely straight-faced, as if this was breaking news.
"That's... interesting?" Bacon rubbed his eyes. "I mean, I could ask Squiddo, but I doubt she knows either."
"I think Mapic has a crush," Planet chimed in, opening the fridge like he'd been waiting to say it. "Every time Zam's on patrol, I see Mapic hanging around like twenty feet away, just watching."
Bacon sighed and pulled a plate of waffles toward him. He sat heavily beside them, cutting off the conversation with the clatter of fork against plate.

 

"guysss," Jaron said, finally glancing up.
"What, Jaron?"
"...Nevermind."
Bacon glared. "I hate when you do that."
"I just—" Jaron's mouth twisted. "I have an idea, but you and Planet won't like it."
"I like every idea you have," Planet said with a grin that was a little too automatic.
"Yeah, sure," Jaron muttered, side-eyeing him.
Planet frowned.
"Whatever it is," Bacon said around a mouthful of waffle, "I'll probably agree."
"Well..." Jaron leaned forward, blurting it out all at once. "I really wanna be a vigilante with Planet."
Bacon nearly choked. "What?"
"WHAT?" Planet almost dropped the milk carton.
"I think it's a good idea!" Jaron said quickly, words tumbling out. "I mean, I'm stuck in here most days. And I want to actually do something! Please?"
Planet dragged a hand down his face, clearly fighting the urge to say whatever was in his mind.
Bacon just stared, chewing slowly, thoughts racing. Jaron was smart. Smarter than him in a lot of ways. And he was a better fighter—Bacon knew it. If anyone could survive patrols, it was Jaron. Still, the idea of letting him out there, into that world, made his chest tighten.
"...Okay," Bacon said finally, setting his fork down.
Jaron's head snapped up.
"Really?"
"Yeah. What about you, Planet?" Bacon forced a small smile.
"If Bacon's agreeing, then... maybe it's not a bad idea," Planet admitted, though his grin wobbled at the edges.
"Oh my gosh! I thought you guys would shut me down!" Jaron threw his hands up. "I mean, maybe not Planet, but Bacon—"
"I trust you," Bacon interrupted. "Just don't die. Seriously."
Jaron lit up. "I won't! Oh my gosh, Planet—you can finally introduce me to Spoke and Leo! This is gonna be amazing!"
And just like that, the two of them were off, talking rapid-fire about everything they'd do, who they'd meet, how they'd start.

Bacon sat back, listening to their voices tangle together, a knot of excitement and plans he couldn't stop.
His fork hovered over his plate, appetite gone.
All he could think about was how he was supposed to keep them safe—both of them—without making it obvious he was watching their backs.

 

And beneath that, quieter but still there, was the thought he'd shoved away earlier.

 

Mane.

 

He didn't know why, but he always circled back. No matter how many distractions he handed himself—waffles, chatter, news, jokes—once they ended, once the noise died down, he came back to the same point. Mane's blindfolded eyes. Mane's smirk. Mane.
Bacon took another bite of waffles despite the weight in his stomach. Chewed. Swallowed. Sighed.
"I'mma go try and sleep," he muttered, pushing his chair back.
"Okay, goodnight, Bacon," Planet said, soft smile too casual to be convincing.
"Night," Jaron added without looking up from his phone.
Bacon slipped away down the hall, closing his bedroom door behind him. He leaned against it for a second, listening to the faint muffled voices beyond before locking it.
The bed creaked under him as he flopped down. He stared at the ceiling. Tried to let silence settle over him. Tried to convince himself that maybe, maybe if he stayed perfectly still, everything in his chest would untangle.
But it didn't. The silence made it worse. His thoughts ran too fast, looped back too easily. Being a hero meant having a target painted across your whole body. And his wasn't just any target. His was a lion-shaped, blindfolded nightmare with teeth and claws and a very clear obsession.
Bacon laughed once, low and shaky, at his own thought.
"Lion, wanna-murder-you-for-no-reason target." He whispered it like a bad joke, but it didn't make it feel lighter.
He rolled onto his side, staring at the locked door. He didn't want to be in this room anymore. The walls pressed in. The ceiling felt too low. He needed out—air, movement, distance. Just for an hour. Then he'd come back, slip into bed, and pretend he'd been asleep the whole time.

Decision made, he shoved the window open. Cool air hit his face, sharper than coffee.
The drop was twenty feet. Easy enough, teleport fifteen, eat the last five, heal later.
He swung out, dropped.
Teleported.
Landed with a soft thud and a bruise he ignored.
For a moment, he stood in the shadow of the building, scanning windows. Planet and Jaron's blinds were still drawn. Good. No one had seen. He shoved his hands in his pockets and walked, keeping low, dodging familiar sightlines until he reached a rooftop a few blocks away.

 

Bacon pulled himself up, breath fogging faintly, and sat with his legs dangling over the edge. The city sprawled below, headlights sliding through streets, laughter spilling faintly from a bar, a couple kids chasing each other across a dimly lit park. The hum of life carried up to him in threads.

It was peaceful. Almost cruelly so.

His eyes caught on a family walking together—two parents, a kid holding their hands.
Something in his chest twisted sharp. He had Planet and Jaron, sure.
They were close enough to be family, and most days that was enough. But the ache never really went away.

 

The ache for the blurry face in his memories, the voice that had once called him brother.

 

He pressed the heel of his hand to his chest, sighed, and forced the thought down.
It didn't matter.
It couldn't matter.
Not when Mane's shadow stretched over him like it was only a matter of time.

"Hiii," a familiar voice sounded in Bacon's ear, a few feet behind.

Bacon's heart stopped. His breath caught halfway out.
Teleport was off the table—three minutes, maybe more. Three minutes he didn't have.

Stall.

That was the only thought that lit up in his head. Stall until you can run.
Bacon turned slowly, forcing his body not to jerk, not to look like prey even though every nerve screamed otherwise. His eyes landed on the lion's shape—leaning casual against a vent pipe, smirk curling sharp enough to cut.
Mane tilted his head.
"You always pick the rooftops. Cute."
Bacon's throat tightened. He didn't answer. Just stared.

Silence stretched, heavy and uneven, filled only by the sound of traffic below.
Mane stepped forward, lazy, unhurried. His voice dropped into something quieter, something meant to stick.
"You know you're easy to find, right?" He smiled, almost too wide. "I always know where you are."
He sat down, two feet away, like they were just two friends sharing a view. "Let's chat. No fighting. Yet." He showed his teeth when he said it.
"Okay," Bacon muttered, the shakiness in his voice obvious.
"No need to be scared. I won't kill you.... You're necessary in my plan." Mane propped his chin on his hand, watching him like he had all night to waste.
"What plan?" Bacon asked, though he knew the answer.
"Ah, ah, ah. Can't tell you." Mane wagged a clawed finger, grinning. His tail wagging behind "It's a surprise." He laughed, clearly savoring every second of Bacon's unease.
Bacon stayed silent. His heartbeat was a hammer in his throat.

"Well..." Mane dragged the word out. "I have my own question. A few, actually. And you're going to answer them. If you do, I'll answer one of yours." His tone made it clear it wasn't an offer.
It was a demand.

Bacon nodded stiffly.

"Good. Let's start simple. What's your power?" Mane asked, tilting his head, an ear twitching.
Bacon blinked, confused. Mane already knew. He was baiting him, trying to catch him in a slip.
"Short-range teleportation," Bacon said carefully.
Mane clicked his tongue. "Teleportation, sure. That's the pretty bow you wrap yourself in for the cameras. But I've seen you, Bacon. You're slippery, even when you shouldn't be. Something else is tucked away in there, and you're a terrible liar."

Bacon's stomach knotted.
He forced his gaze onto the skyline, willing his face not to betray him.
"That's it," he said. "That's all I've got."
Mane leaned closer. Two feet shrank into one. His breath brushed Bacon's ear when he spoke, low and sharp.
"You know what I love about you? When you think silence will save you. But silence is just another answer. A confession you don't even realize you're making."
Bacon's hand twitched against the concrete. Just a little longer. His power would be back soon.
Mane finally sat back, grin sharp, eyes glinting. "Fine. Keep your little secrets for now. I'll pry them out when it matters. But don't forget, you promised to answer me. And I don't like being lied to."
Bacon's chest rose and fell too fast, but he pushed the words out anyway. "You said if I answered, you'd answer mine."
Mane laughed. Low. Warm. Like it didn't belong here, on a rooftop in the middle of a standoff. "Right. Go ahead. Ask."
Bacon hesitated, mind blank with static. He should've asked about the plan, or the HQ, or something that could actually matter. Instead, what came out was raw, unfiltered—
"Why me?"
And just like that, the air between them shifted.
Mane blinked once, slow, then let out a soft laugh that didn't match the weight of the question. "Why you?" He repeated it like it was foreign, like it tasted strange on his tongue.
"You're going to have to be more specific, Bacon. Why you what? Why you're alive? Why I don't break your neck every time I see you?"
Bacon's chest tightened. He stared down at the street below, the little toy-lights of cars moving, the city breathing without caring about either of them. He hadn't expected Mane to just... lay it out like that.
"I don't get it," Bacon said finally, his voice small. "You've got—" He waved a hand helplessly, like the whole villain world could be summed up in one gesture. "You've got power, people who follow you, a plan you keep shoving in my face. You could ruin anyone. So... why me?"

 

Mane tilted his head, studying him with that lazy predator's interest, the kind that made Bacon's skin crawl and heat at the same time.

"Because anyone isn't interesting," Mane said simply. "Anyone doesn't look me in the eye and talk back when they should be begging. Anyone doesn't shake and still show up. You make it fun."

"That's not—" Bacon bit his tongue. His pulse roared in his ears. "That's not an answer."

Mane leaned closer, close enough that Bacon could see the faint scar that cut through his eyebrow, the way his smile didn't quite reach his eyes.
"No, it isn't. Not the one you want, anyway."

 

Silence stretched between them. Bacon's hands curled into fists against the edge of the roof, knuckles pale. He didn't know if he wanted to stand and run or stay perfectly still and disappear.

 

Mane broke the quiet with a murmur, almost gentle. "You want me to say I hate you. That it's only about power, or leverage, or some neat little excuse you can box me into. But I don't hate you, Bacon." His voice dipped lower, velvet hiding teeth. "Not anymore atleast."

 

Bacon's breath hitched. For a second, he thought Mane might actually touch him, close the last inch of space like it meant nothing. But Mane didn't. He just sat there, grinning, as if daring Bacon to move first.
And all Bacon could think was how much worse it was. Worse that Mane didn't hate him. Worse, the lion in his chest wasn't roaring for blood, but for something else entirely.
Mane's grin widened, sensing bacons thoughts spiral.
"Why be a hero at all?" he asked
"...Because someone has to." Bacon's voice came out lower than he meant. "People need help."
Mane leaned closer, searching his face. "And who helped you?"
Bacon's chest tightened. His tongue felt heavy. "Next question."
That only made Mane smile wider, like he'd won something anyway.
Bacon forced his voice steady. "What do you actually want? Big picture. Not just with me."
Mane looked at him for a long moment, sharp eyes unreadable. Then he shrugged, almost careless.

"I want to rip the shit out of the so-called 'heroes.' Tear their shiny tower down. Show people what they really are. That's the plan."

Bacon held his stare, stomach twisting. Mane wasn't lying. That scared him more than if he had been.
Mane leaned back again, stretching like a cat. "Alright, another. What's your worst fear?"
Bacon froze. His mind scrambled for something safe. "Losing a fight."
"Liar." Mane's voice came out with a quiet certainty that made Bacon's skin prickle.
Bacon glared but didn't argue. His chest was too tight. He cut in quickly, "Then tell me yours."
Mane tilted his head, smirk gone. "...Being forgotten." His voice was flat, almost too honest, before he flicked it away with another grin. "But enough about me."

Bacon stared at him, throat dry. He wanted to push, but Mane was already moving on.
"One last," Mane said, tone shifting, weight dropping heavier into the air. His eyes didn't leave Bacon's.

 

"What is... Planet to you?"

 

Bacon's stomach plummeted. His hands curled into fists on his knees. He opened his mouth, closed it again. The question wasn't harmless. It was a knife pressed to his chest, because he knew exactly what Mane wanted from the answer—and what it meant if he gave it wrong.
Mane just waited, too patient, too focused, the moon catching in his sharp eyes like he could see straight through the mask.
"Saw you with him," Mane went on, voice syrup-smooth. "A vigilante. Not very... hero-like, hm? Makes me wonder what HQ would think if they knew their little rookie was keeping someone they want locked up, safe."
Bacon's throat worked. He wanted to swallow but it felt stuck there, heavy and sharp.
Say nothing. Don't give him what he wants.
But the silence stretched, and Mane just tilted his head, waiting, savoring.
"He's" Bacon started, then stopped. The word slipped before he could stop it.
He scrambled. Covered. "He's no one. Just.. just someone I ran into. Doesn't matter."
Mane's smile widened, all teeth, no warmth.
"You're lying." He said it with the kind of certainty that made Bacon's skin crawl.
"Your eyes do this little flicker thing. Cute, really."

Bacon's pulse slammed in his ears. His hand twitched, almost reaching for the window ledge beside him.

Three minutes had crawled by long enough.
He could teleport.

Mane leaned closer, voice low, almost kind if it wasn't so cruel:

 

"Don't worry. I won't tell HQ. Not yet. Secrets are more fun when they sit and rot."

 

That broke something in Bacon. His chest felt like it was caving in. His brain screamed out out now.
He didn't answer. He didn't breathe. He just clenched his fists, blinked—
—and vanished.
Reappearing a rooftop away, knees buckling from the sudden lurch in his chest. He stumbled, sucking air like he'd been drowning. His whole body shook.
He didn't look back. Couldn't.
But in his head he still heard Mane's laugh, carrying across the distance like smoke:
"Run while you can, Bacon. I'll always find you."

 

Bacon got up and ran.

He didn't think, he just moved. Off the roof, down the fire escape, cutting through side streets, his boots slapping against wet pavement. He ducked into alleys, doubled back, twisted through gaps between buildings like a hunted thing.
His lungs burned, but the only thought pounding in his head was away.
Anywhere Mane couldn't see him.
Anywhere Mane's voice couldn't crawl into his ears.
He ran all the way to his studio apartment, slamming the window open and throwing himself inside.
He barely got the latch shut before collapsing to the floor, back pressed against the glass like it was the only barrier between him and being devoured.
He was shaking so bad his hands wouldn't stay still. His chest heaved. He wasn't scared for himself.
He was scared for Planet.
Mane wanted to use him for something big. And Bacon could see it, clear as blood on pavement. Mane would use Planet to get it. If not today, then soon.

The thought nearly undid him.

Maybe... maybe Bacon should just give himself up.
Walk straight to Mane, let him win. At least then Planet would be safe.

That's what he wants.

The thought slammed into him just as hard. Mane wanted him broken. Wanted him desperate enough to hand himself over like an offering.
"No," Bacon rasped out loud. His voice cracked. "No, no, no."
He pressed his palms hard to his face, threw off his mask like it was choking him, and let the darkness behind his hands swallow him. But the shaking didn't stop.
His eyes stung. The first pinch of tears burned hot at the corners before he could blink them back.
"Don't," he whispered to himself. "Don't—"

Bacon pushed himself to say strong, he wiped away his tears.

He couldn't let Mane win.
He couldn't.
But right now it felt impossible, like fighting a tide that would never stop dragging him under.
Planet was his brother. Blood or not. And if Mane ever touched him,  if Mane ever got his claws in him, Bacon would burn his own body out to ash before he let that happen.
He just wanted to keep him safe.

 

Why couldn't anything go right?
Why couldn't he do one thing without it backfiring and putting Planet in danger too?
Why hadn't he just given in when Mane first showed up? Why had he fought back, why had he made himself a bigger target?

All he'd done was drag Planet into the crosshairs.
He rocked slightly where he sat, exhaustion pulled him down. His body sagged. He didn't mean to fall asleep, not like that, knees up, face buried, arms wrapped around himself like the world might cave in.
But he did.

 

When his eyes blinked open again, the room was dim. He didn't know what time it was, only that it must've been at least an hour.
His stomach lurched—he should've been home.
He scrambled to the window, wiped his face quick with his sleeve, and forced himself to climb out again. His muscles screamed at him, but he didn't care.
He sprinted across the quiet streets until the apartment came into view.
His chest was tight the whole way.
If Planet or Jaron noticed he was gone—if they pushed, if they asked—he'd shatter.
He'd tell them everything. And he couldn't.

Not yet.

Not when it would put them at more risk.
He crept up the side of the building, climbing a rusted abandoned ladder that rattled beneath his weight.
He slipped back through his window, easing it shut behind him.
His room was exactly the same as when he left. Bed unmade, clothes on the chair, everything still. Maybe they hadn't noticed.
Bacon tiptoed across the room and sat on the edge of his bed. His hands were still shaking, but slower now, quieter.
He forced himself to change clothes, ruffling his hair until it looked messy from sleep instead of running through the streets half-broken.

He lay back, stared at the ceiling, and let the exhaustion drag him under again. This time, he really slept,
not exhausted from overthinking sleep.

Sleep.

 

A small knock pulled him back to the surface. His chest seized tight. He sat up too fast, heart racing.
"Bacon?" Planet's voice through the door.
He froze, then forced out: "Yea."
"Finally you're awake!" Planet's tone lifted. "We bought you Chinese... uh, cause we thought you might've liked it since you weren't feeling well this morning."
Bacon blinked, the pit in his stomach growing heavier. Food was the last thing he wanted. His mouth was dry, his body empty, but his hunger was gone.
"Coming..." he said, soft.
"Living room, okay," Planet called, footsteps fading down the hall.
Bacon dragged himself up, unlocked the door, and walked slowly to the living room.
The smell hit him first—soy sauce, fried rice, sesame oil. His favorite meal sitting hot on the coffee table.

He swallowed hard.

"Thank you..." He sank down next to Jaron, head falling against his shoulder like it weighed a ton.
"No problem," they both said.
Planet plopped down on the other side, head landing on Jaron's other shoulder.
Jaron groaned. "I am not a couch. Get off me."
"Noo..." Bacon mumbled weakly, refusing to move.
"I hate you two," Jaron muttered, but he didn't push them away.
Bacon peeled himself off long enough to start eating. Bite after bite, even if his stomach turned with every swallow. He only made it halfway before setting the container down.

"Mmm... I think I'm sick," he lied, searching for an excuse.
"Aww," Jaron said, immediately wrapping an arm around him.
Bacon leaned into it, letting the hug hold him together.

 

They ended up in a pile, all tangled on the couch. Jaron hugging Bacon, Planet sprawled across the other half of him, their warmth pressing close. A movie flickered across the screen, painting the room in soft light.
Everything should've felt safe. Everything should've been enough.
But in the back of his mind, circling like a predator waiting for the lights to dim, was one thought.
One person.

 

Mane.

Chapter Text

Bacon sat in a loose circle with the others, heroes all sprawled across the concrete rooftop in whatever positions gravity or boredom allowed.
Jumper was halfway through a story about some argument she overheard between
"two random heroes whose names I swear started with like...—you know what Doesn't matter, they were FIGHTING about conspiracy theories!"

Everyone laughed.

Except Bacon.

He'd usually be laughing too.
But today every giggle and shove between friends felt like static in his ears.
He felt...
wrong.
Not guilty exactly — he didn't regret hanging out with Planet — but the guilt of being seen hanging out with Planet.
Of knowing someone had used that against him.
If he told the heroes about Mane, about the threats — they wouldn't see him as brave for surviving it.

They'd see him as tainted.

Disloyal.

A traitor.

 

Bacon sighed very quietly.

He looked over his shoulder out of habit — because that creeping feeling of being watched wouldn't leave him — and paused when he saw a figure several rooftops back.

No way he'd come back again.
Not today.
Not after yesterday.

 

Bacon squinted harder.
His heart dropped. His blood ran cold.

Mane.

Again.

Bacon turned back around like he'd seen nothing at all, posture stiff but steady. Any reaction — even the smallest flicker — would draw attention. If the others noticed, if they looked back and saw Mane too...
Then Mane could expose everything.
Planet. Him.
And then — and then —
Bacon forced the thought away before it could spiral. He inhaled slowly through his nose, held it, then let it out.

He would keep Planet and Jaron safe.

Anything it took.

Even if that meant pretending nothing was wrong while his stomach twisted itself into knots.

 

Jumper shouted something. Minute threw a bottle cap at Squiddo. Someone cackled. Someone swore.

Their voices all blended into one fuzzy blur. Bacon nodded absently at something someone said, but his mind was already drifting — locked tensely on the presence behind him.

 

Mane crouched behind a ventilation pipe.
He saw the exact moment Bacon spotted him. The slight head turn, the freeze,
the resigned decision to pretend.
Mane Just watched.

 

Patient.

 

He could wait for the right moment.

He was good at waiting.

But something bitter crawled up his spine anyway. Something unfamiliar. Heavy.

Guilt?

Tch. Disgusting.

 

He'd used Planet against him. Held him above Bacon's head like a leash. And the way Bacon had looked at him —
not angry.
Not defiant.

Just...
scared.
Cornered.
Mane looked away briefly, lips twisting.
If he were in Bacon's shoes?

 

He wouldn't be.

 

He'd never let himself get bound by rules or expectations. Never bow to HQ. Never nod for cameras while pretending to believe in their perfect little system.
Heroes. HQ. Systems. All of it — bullshit.
Robots in fancy outfits.

 

But Bacon...
Bacon tried to believe. Even when he was clearly drowning under it all.
He still tried.
Stupid. Admirable. Infuriating.

 

Mane's tail swished lazily along the metal.
He'd never admit it, not even to himself — but he liked watching him.
Liked observing the little things others were too loud or self-absorbed to notice.
He liked that Bacon didn't fight on impulse like the rest. Didn't immediately swing, scream, or throw a punch just because someone wore a different color suit.
He watched first.
He listened.
He talked.
Not argued. Talked.

 

That alone set him apart. That alone made Mane curious.
But it was more than curiosity now. Something else tugged at him every time Bacon was near. Something he didn't care to name.
He knew Bacon tapped his fingers when anxious — soft, steady. He knew he smelled like cinnamon and coffee — warm, grounding.
He knew when Bacon didn't know what to say, he just went quiet. Not out of weakness, but because he'd rather think than lie.

He liked that.

He liked knowing these small secrets.

He liked that Bacon was his enemy — not theirs.

 

...Because truthfully?

Bacon wasn't an enemy at all.

 

"I don't feel like being a hero today," Squiddo groaned loudly, flopping backwards.
"Me too," Jumper threw her arms up dramatically. "I HATE Mondays. Let's go back to my secret cat park!"
"I want to see Minute get verbally destroyed by a toddler again," Ash grinned.
"Oh my god. One time," Minute muttered.

 

They all got up, stretching. Bacon followed a second later.
Jumper led the way, and Bacon trailed behind them quietly, glancing back every few steps.
Mane was always five rooftops behind.

Is this what Zam feels like?
Bacon wondered. Always being followed by someone who refuses to be gone.

They stopped near a park and — of course — kids appeared like pigeons.

Great.

Just what he needed.

 

The others were immediately swarmed for autographs and selfies. Bacon stood awkwardly at the side, hands in pockets, pretending to check his shoes.

 

"Excuse me?" a tiny voice said.

 

Bacon looked down. A small girl holding a stuffed dog stared up at him with deadly seriousness.
"What's your name?"
"Uh... Bacon," he muttered.
"Like the food?" she gasped.
"Yeah."
"I like bacon! Do you taste like bacon?"
"No," Bacon smiled, "but I wish."
She gasped. "Will you be my friend?!"
"Yeah. I'd like that. What's your name?"

She immediately launched into a monologue about her school, favorite snacks, and how her stuffed dog was named "Chair." Bacon nodded patiently, occasionally adding "Wow!" and "No way."
When the girl finally scampered off to rejoin her parents with Chair, Bacon turned back to the group

and froze.

Every single one of them was staring at him.
Not with judgment.

In awe.

 

His face went hot enough to fry his own namesake.
"Didn't know you were good with kids," Minute snorted, nudging Ash with an elbow like Bacon had just performed some forbidden magic trick.
"You should be a teacher," Squiddo giggled. "I would've killed to have a teacher named Bacon! Imagine roll call. 'Mr. Bacon?' Instant respect."
"Uh... yeah," he muttered, ears definitely red. His hands suddenly had no idea what to do. Pocket? Crossed arms? Wave??
"Seriously! You were so patient with her! Some heroes hate the kids," Jumper said, sounding genuinely impressed.
"They hate the kids?" Bacon blurted, disgust curling over his features before he could stop it.
"Mhm," Ash nodded. "I personally don't talk to those heroes. If a twelve-year-old with glitter stickers scares you, retire."
"Yeah... kids don't know any better," Bacon agreed quietly, surprising himself with how firm his voice sounded.
"They're just... honest."
"Right?" Squiddo chimed. "My best friend is this cute six-year-old I met on patrol once. She's nine now. I go to her birthday every year."
Jumper gasped like that was the cutest thing she'd ever heard.
It truly was.
Minute rolled his eyes but couldn't hide a smile.
Even Ash's expression softened, even though his expression was always soft with squiddo.
Bacon stared down at his shoes, pretending not to care—
—but something warm and small bloomed in his chest anyway.

They weren't laughing at him.

They were just...
admiring.

 

"Hey, Squiddo?" he said.
"Mhm?" she answered while placing a chunky cat in her lap like royalty.
"I got a question. About Zam."
"Ah." She nodded seriously.
"Proceed. I know everything. The wise squiddo shall answer any question of this Zam indiviual"

"Zam and Mapic... what's going on there?"

"Oh! Easy. Mapic is in LOVE with Zam."

"Okay no," Minute cut in. "Zam told me if he sees Mapic one more time, he's going to break every bone in his legs."

"That's flirting," Squiddo said confidently.

"No, okay," Ash added, "I talked to Zam. Apparently they got into some fight, Mapic threatened him, and Zam said something flirty back, so now they're trying to find each others' identities to kill each other."
"Also Mapic's looking for his brother," Jumper chimed in. "And Zam definitely knows who it is but won't tell him."
"Oh yeah!" Ash nodded.
"That's... interesting?" Bacon muttered.
"Doomed yaoi," Squiddo whispered reverently.
"What?" Minute said flatly.

Bacon snorted.

Before the chaos could continue, Minute perked up. "Oh — by the way. The villains got a new person this week."
"Name?" Ash asked.
"No clue. They bailed before we could fight. Clown stayed though."
"Did you guys win?" Jumper blinked.

Minute gave her a dead stare.

"Okay. Sorry. Dumb question."
"Maybe we should add Parrot and Zam to our group!" Squiddo said suddenly.
"Do we really want a crazy Mapic on our tail?" Ash raised a brow.
"I mean... there's more of us than them," Squiddo shrugged.
"Yeah but I don't wanna spend every patrol fighting for my life," Minute groaned.
"Please?" Squiddo begged.
"...Okay," Ash relented.
"What about you guys?" she asked the rest.
Jumper gave a thumbs up. Minute nodded. Bacon hesitated.
Then shrugged.
"Sure."

 

He immediately regretted it.
More heroes meant more backup.
But more backup meant more people to see what he was hiding.
He glanced around casually like he was just stretching his neck.

He didn't see Mane.

But he felt him.
He didn't try to look harder.
He just let out a slow breath and kept stroking the cat, pretending his pulse wasn't picking up.
"Oh, you know what!" Squiddo suddenly announced.
Bacon didn't even lift his head.
Here it comes.
This was about to turn into one of those ridiculous arguments — the kind Planet and Jaron had.
The ones that started with something tiny and spiraled until someone was yelling about moral integrity and sandwich theft.

 

Mane crouched on a rusted roof beam across from them.
He didn't like this.

Not the cats.
Not the laughter.
Not the way Bacon looked so calm.
He was too far away.
Too far to hear his voice.
Too far to smell his cinnamon-coffee scent properly.
Too far to reach out.

 

His tail thumped the metal absentmindedly.
He watched Bacon choose a cat and pet it.
Something hot and tight stabbed in his chest.
Jealousy?

He scoffed internally.
Jealous of a cat?

 

...Could he be pet too?

 

He paused.
He was half-lion. Lions were cats.
He imagined Bacon scratching under his ears.

 

His brain promptly blue-screened for ten full minutes.

 

When he snapped back, Bacon was standing — waving goodbye to the others.
Mane perked up instantly.

Perfect.

Time for another conversation.
He was already missing Bacon.

Miss?

He froze at the word.
Then exhaled slowly.
Yeah.
He missed him.

 

He clicked his tongue, annoyed at himself — then stood, scanning for a path down.

 

Mine.

 

Bacon didn't bother waiting for the others to stop waving.
The moment he was out of their line of sight, he teleported, straight to the next rooftop over. Fifteen minutes after the last one.

Like running without running.

He just needed to leave. Needed distance. From the cats. From the laughter. From pretending everything was okay. From the way Mane's eyes had burned through him all afternoon without ever touching him.
His boots hit the roof harder than planned. He stumbled, caught himself.

Then froze.

A soft thud landed behind him.
No flash of teleport. No ripple. No cape.
Just... footsteps.
Slow. Steady. Heavy. Confident. Like whatever was behind him knew he heard — and didn't care.
He didn't have to look.

 

Mane.

 

Of course.

 

Bacon's pulse jumped, hands twitching like they didn't know whether to fight or disappear. He could teleport again — but cooldown had eight-ish minutes left. Too long. If Mane lunged—
Don't think. Just walk.
So he did. Forward. Careful. Measured. Like prey pretending it didn't see the predator.
Maybe if he didn't—

"Seriously?"

Bacon froze mid-step.
The voice was dry. Unamused. And way too close.

"You're gonna pretend I'm not here? That hurts. Wow."

Bacon turned. Slowly. Every muscle tense.
Mane stood ten feet back.
Hands in his pockets.
Tail flicking lazily — like he was trying to look casual, but couldn't quite pull it off.
His mouth was sharp. Annoyed. Maybe... hurt?
No.

Bacon refused to believe that.
He said nothing. His heartbeat was too loud. If he spoke, it'd come out broken.
Mane clicked his tongue and stepped forward.

"Relax. If I wanted you dead, you'd be a rooftop stain already."

Bacon didn't relax.

"...You followed me," he muttered.
"You teleported away from me," Mane shot back instantly.
"That's...normal? You're a villain."

 

"And you're mine."

 

Bacon's breath stopped.
Mane blinked under the blindfold, as if realizing too late what he'd said. His jaw tightened.

"I mean—you're my rival, obviously," he corrected. "Hero versus villain. Classic dynamic."

"...Right."

Silence.

The wind blew past. Cool. Sharp. Not enough to settle the heat crawling up Bacon's neck.
Mane stepped forward again — still keeping distance. But listening. Ears angled toward him. Ready to hear every twitch of sound he made.

 

"You didn't tell them," Mane said quietly. "About yesterday."

Bacon stiffened. "If I did—They'd call me a traitor. Because of Planet. And... why should I?"

"Because you're supposed to," Mane scoffed. "Hero protocol and all that. 'Report all villain contact.' Extra points if said villain corners you on a rooftop and asks personal questions."

Bacon looked away. "...Didn't feel like talking about it."
"Didn't feel like... or didn't want to?"
Bacon's jaw clenched. "You think I wanted any of that?"
"I think," Mane's voice softened, "you didn't run when you could've."
His heart slammed. "...I couldn't teleport."
"You could've screamed."

"...Didn't want to."

Mane went completely still.
His ears twitched. His tail stopped moving.
Then — very suddenly — he turned away and dragged a hand through his hair, muttering something under his breath like why would you say that out loud you idiot.

Good, Bacon thought weakly.
Let him be flustered for once.

 

Mane exhaled, steadying himself. When he turned back, his expression was reset. Calm. Dangerous again.

"Anyway. Five minutes. You and me. Walk and talk. Then I'll leave you alone."
Bacon narrowed his eyes. "Why should I trust you?"
"I've never lied to you before."
He hesitated.

Mane tilted his head. "I don't lie. Even to heroes."

"...Fine," Bacon muttered.
He started walking again.
Mane followed a few paces behind.
...
"If you told them about Planet," Mane said casually, "would that really make you a traitor?"
"Yes," Bacon said flatly.
"Tsk. Vigilantes are barely villains. They're better than half your registered heroes."
"You think I don't know that?"
Mane went quiet at that.
Silence stretched. Footsteps and wind filling the gaps.

 

Then—

 

"Y'know," Mane said, too relaxed, "you're fun to watch. You also smell good."
Bacon tripped. "Excuse me?"
"What? You smell like cinnamon and coffee. I know a lot about you."
"...Okay?" Bacon said, not sure what to do with that.
"I have a question. Not about Planet."
"...Ask."
"Are you ever going to tell them?" Mane asked. "About me finding you. About this."
Bacon thought. "...Probably not."
"Why?"
"They'll think I—let you. Or did something. They'll push. And I'll slip. About Planet."

"Speaking of Planet—"

Bacon stopped walking so fast his shoes scraped concrete.

"Can you not," he said, voice cracking before he could stop it. "Just—keep him out of this. Please."

 

For the first time,
Mane didn't have a comeback.

 

He didn't smirk.
Didn't tease.
Didn't make it worse just because he could.

 

He just... stood there. Tail still. Shoulders tense. Like Bacon had landed a hit he wasn't ready for.
When he finally spoke, his voice was low. Rough.

"...I'm not promising anything."

Bacon's chest tightened.

"But," Mane added, eyes flicking toward him beneath the blindfold, "I'll think about it."

That shouldn't have meant anything.
It shouldn't have mattered.
It did.
Because Mane didn't think about mercy.
He didn't consider pulling a punch.
But for Bacon — he was.
And that was somehow more terrifying than any threat.
They walked again.
Mane opened his mouth.

"One more question—"

"Five minutes are over," Bacon cut in. "You said you'd leave after five."

Mane stopped walking.
He clearly hated it.

"...Fine. Only because I keep my word."
He turned to go.

Bacon let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.
Mane walked several steps away.
"...Mane,"
Bacon said before he could stop himself.
The villain froze.
Waiting.
"I..." Bacon started.
But whatever words existed got stuck.
So Mane saved him.

"Tomorrow," he said without turning. "Tell me then."

Then he walked away for real.
And Bacon stood there, unsure if his heart hurt because Mane left.

 

Or because he almost asked him to stay.