#hecking heckity heck this grew beyond all expectations?? what

[presumenothing]

superhero confidential [#2]

[ marvel au ]

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WE'RE NEARLY THREE HOURS INTO what is proving to be a very enlightening interview when another holographic screen pops up with a muted ping.

Miyano-san barely spares it a glance before standing up and striding around the table to the door. "Your new wings are done, Hattori-kun, I need to do the flight test."

"Huh?" Hattori-san looks up in apparent surprise, even though I'm certain that this moment has been planned all along.

"I'm going to tell the fabrication bots to paint them red and gold if you're not at the lab in fifteen," comes the reply from the hallway.

One exclamation of extreme dismay later, and we're left with the three of us and a suddenly-awkward silence in the room. I take the chance to swap out my voice recorder's batteries – I have the feeling that I'm going to need them, for whatever's coming up next.

When I look back up again, the two remaining Avengers are apparently having a silent but slightly heated discussion by looks and the occasional shrug.

It's Toyama-san who looks away first, while Kudo-san takes a deep breath, as if he's bracing himself for something. "You know who Ran is, right? Mouri Ran."

It's almost a ridiculous question, in this context.

Among most of the younger generation, the first thing that comes to mind about the good Captain's second-in-command is not the utter scandal (at the time, at least) of her having been revealed to be a woman all along, while the dust of WWII was still busy settling down.

Or perhaps it still is, just in a different sense – her story has morphed into a second Mulan of sorts, a fierce fighter who'd taken up arms to stand beside her childhood friend on the other end of a war. Girls grew up wanting to be that brave, to be just like her, never mind the staggeringly complex politics of the situation.

So to answer the question: yes, I know who Mouri Ran is.

This much is evident, because Kudo-san continues on a surprising turn. "What about the Winter Soldier?"

Now this question, unlike the last, is rather more complicated.

This much is known: somewhere between the events spanning the attack on SHIELD director Yamato Kansuke and the smoking ruins of that same agency in the Sumida River, the Winter Soldier went from an unlikely ghost story to a too-real spectre of death.

Eyewitness reports agree on the salient details: a woman of slender build, metal arm, and long hair. Filling the blanks of history with the SHIELD files gives us the rest: a list of kills confirmed or suspected, stretching back an improbable number of decades.

But that is all we have – facts that sketch the outline of a person, and nothing that fills that gap. We know increasingly more of what the Winter Soldier is, but nothing about who she is.

Not just yet, at least.

I say as much to Kudo-san, who nods, then hesitates for the first time in our time so far. "That was the first time I met the Soldier, yes. But the truth is – "

His voice falters and stops.

"It's alright, Shinichi, I can speak for myself," says a soft voice from the door, and I turn to see Mouri Ran standing there, metal arm and long hair gleaming dully in the low light.

THERE IS NO EASY OR KIND WAY to say this: Mouri Ran, one of the heroes of WWII, has also been the Winter Soldier in the intervening decades since.

None of it was by her will, as both Cap and Widow make certain to emphasise to me several times afterwards.

(There is also no mistaking that the two are acting as something larger than their usual selves, in this matter. They are each the quiet to the other's fire, and it is not at all difficult to see the same people who stared down both the Cabinet and National Diet – and, by all accounts, 117 of the UN's 193 countries – and willed them to blink first.)

At the time of this interview, the wheels of judicial systems both domestic and international have already begun to turn. Japan abolished its statute of limitations on murder in late April of 2010, meaning that cases dating from 1995 and onwards are still up for prosecution, and the possibility of extradition is still not entirely off the table yet.

But any and all trials will be strictly closed to the public, at least until the final verdict is released, and Mouri-san will be accorded all considerations due her status as a prisoner of war under extreme duress.

"I made it a non-negotiable condition of accepting the Accords," Kudo-san explains, in a brusque summary of what must have been an uphill fight against the many parties involved. "If we're going to sign over any part of our rights as enhanced individuals, we also need to recognise what happens when that power and responsibility falls into the wrong hands."

All this comes later, though. What follows is a short transcript of that initial conversation between myself and Mouri Ran, in what will likely be the first of many accounts of her time as the Winter Soldier and beyond.

HH: Thank you for taking the time to speak to me today, Mouri-san.

MR: Just call me Ran, please. I'm sorry if this came as a bit of a nasty surprise, we weren't sure how you would react to the news.

HH: It's – honestly speaking? I'm still trying to process it, but I almost can't believe that I'm actually talking to you in person. You've always been one of my heroes.

MR: [with a slight smile] If it's any consolation, that's a little weird for me to hear as well. Most of the publicity was focused on Shinichi during the war, no one outside of SSR and the Army really knew who the rest of the Howling Commandos were, but then we ended up here and... [she cuts herself off with the wave of one hand] I'm sorry, that's not really what you wanted to talk about, is it?

HH: Well, I think most of us want to know what happened between 1945 and now, but I'd be happy to discuss whatever topic you prefer, Ran-san.

MR: To be frank, I don't really remember all of it – I'm still getting memories back here and there, but most of it's badly scrambled, both in terms of time and place.

TK: Like when you wake up from a long nap and suddenly don't know if it's still the same day, y'know? Except worse.

HH: That must've been very confusing for you, Ran-san.

MR: It was. I had all these notebooks that I wrote things in, I was so afraid of forgetting again. It was really lucky for me that K- I mean, Widow released all those SHIELD files online, otherwise I really would've wondered if I was just going crazy. [turns towards Toyama-san] I don't think I've ever thanked you for that, Kazuha-chan.

TK: That's the first time anyone's ever said that to me! [chuckles] You're definitely welcome, Ran-chan.

MR: Really, I don't know what I would've done without you. All of you. [turns back to me, taking out a piece of paper] It's not entirely complete – my lawyer's instructed me to redact the details until after the trial – but we've been able to piece together the events from then until now. Most of them, at least.

[An annotated version of this document has been reproduced on the following page of this article.]

HH: I'm a reporter, I understand having more questions than answers. I really appreciate you trusting me with this information, Ran-san.

MR: I don't like talking about it, but – [shrugs] Like Shinichi's always saying, there's only one truth, right?

KS: [a little tersely] Yeah.

MR: Shinichi? [reaching for his hand] I thought we'd agreed on this, people are going to find out after the trial and –

KS: – and you want to do it on your own terms, yeah. It's just... [he takes her hand with a sigh] All those years, and I never had a clue.

TK: You were off bein' an ice cube for most of those years, Shinichi-kun, I think you're excused. Don't think even Holmes solved any mysteries while he was dead.

KS: Well, actually –

[All three of them laugh at some apparently shared joke, breaking the tension in the atmosphere.]

MR: You found me in the end, that's what matters. [glances over at me, still smiling] These parts I definitely remember – this tiny scrap of a detective picking fights everywhere, trying to solve every mystery in town. Even though he was sick most of the time. Like having the worst younger brother you've never wanted, I swear.

HH: [laughs] Oh, I can definitely relate to that, I know the type.

MR: Right?

HH: Yeah. To wrap this up, then – is there anything you want to say to the readers?

MR: Just... I'd like to apologise to everyone I've hurt by my actions, both directly or otherwise. I know it won't fix anything, and I understand if you never accept this apology, but – [she bows] I'm very sorry, and I'll do everything in my power to make up for it.

HH: And what would you like to do after this? Anything specific?

MR: Well, there's the trial first, of course. Who knows how long that'll take. After that – I really have no idea, actually. Kazuha-chan's invited me to go crash dojos –

TK: Hey now, I don't crash things, that's Heiji you're thinking of –

MR: – with her anytime, but I've been thinking about travelling a bit with Shinichi and everyone else? See places when they're not halfway being blown up, catch up on the things I've missed.

HH: Wherever the wind takes you, then?

MR: [smiles and nods] Yeah, just like that. I think I've had enough of plans for a while, you know?

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[cotncandyboifics]

1989 [High School AU]: Chapter 9

AO3 Link

Masterpost

Chapter 1 ~ Chapter 2 ~ Chapter 3 ~ Chapter 4 ~ Chapter 5 ~ Chapter 6 ~ Chapter 7 ~ Chapter 8 ~

Pairings: slight Logince, eventual Prinxiety & Logicality

Word count: 2,043

Story summary: Roman Prince is your stereotypical Jock, with everyone swooning after him. Every day a crowd of people follow him around, only to disperse at his personal whim. In reality, he's lucky to have such good acting skills that help him cover up the disdain he has for his life. He only wishes he could use his skills properly.

Patton Whitelock's always there to lend a helping hand, no matter who you are. If you need a favor or just need someone to talk to, go to him. In reality, he's been taught from a young age that kindness should be held above all else. No one suspects that he took it the wrong way.

Logan Montgomery is the smartest boy in the Senior class. He's stern, and most people are too intimidated to speak to him. In reality, he despises most all of his fellow students. He sticks to his studies and doesn't stray, for fear of being stuck in his father's shadow his whole life.

Virgil Black is the most emo kid in school, let alone 12th grade; everyone knows to leave him be. In reality, he's very fortunate. He has two parents who love him dearly. But everything beyond his life, everything within his mind, is utter chaos and turmoil.

what will happen when they're assigned a biology project together?

General CW: food, swearing, implied s-lf h-rm, non-graphic descriptions of s-lf h-rm scars, graphic and non-graphic descriptions of anxiety attacks and panic attacks, drug abuse, minor character intoxicated on heroin, non-graphic drug overdose description, sickness/description of sickness, blood, non-graphic descriptions of needles, (will be added to as I write more)

Chapter CW: swearing, food/meal mention, (let me know if i missed anything please!)

Author notes: the massive amounts of gay panic. this chapter was fun to write

...

Roman returned to find his room far less lively. The tall nerd and the short puffball have seemingly disappeared! Of course Roman knew they'd likely just gone home, but what fun is life without a little exciting drama?

The only one left was Virgil, who was curled in on himself on Roman's bed, a pillow in his lap and phone in his hands yet again. Roman sighed dramatically, sprawling out beside his darkly dressed counterpart.

"Is this what they meant when they said 'get a room?'" He commented after a long boring silence, waggling his eyebrows when Virgil looked at him with wide eyes.

"Oh shut up," Virgil looked away, slamming his pillow into Roman's face in a fit of deja-vu.

"Oh come on! Look up the word joke in the dictionary, Jack Smellington!" Roman said exasperatedly. Virgil shook out his luminescent hair, which was now out of his hood and proudly on display. Roman couldn't convince himself to look away.

"As much as I appreciate being compared to one of my favorite Disney characters, that was a bit- what?" Virgil looked at him confusedly, and that's what finally got Roman to look away.

"Nothing." He said shortly. He considered apologizing, but he figured that would make him look worse. Virgil just laughed lightly, not awkwardly. Mostly to himself about Roman's dorkiness. Roman felt his face heat up, and hated himself for it.

"Well, I should probably get home..." Virgil flopped back onto Roman's bed, stretching his arms out above his head. his shirt lifted slightly to follow, and Roman caught a glimpse of his navel, as well as some impressively sharp hip bones, and the very gentle start of a V-line. He forced himself to look away that time. Getting caught looking at someone's hair is one thing, but... but that, was something else entirely. Roman was already in dangerous waters, and he knew it.

"Ehem, well, I know you denied me last time," Roman began, flopping down beside Virgil and looking up at his pride flag, "but the offer of a ride is still up for grabs. Unless you'd rather be stuck on the bus at night for half an hour." Roman crossed his arms over his chest, and Virgil sat up to lean over him. He nearly opted to retort and deny the offer more snarkily than last time's failed attempt, but...

Roman's eyes. He'd never been close enough and calm enough simultaneously to really look at them; they were a deep melted milk chocolate brown, and held nearly imperceptible flecks of shining red. Virgil's eyebrows knit together, and he leaned closer to look into Roman's eyes more properly.

He didn't realize what he'd done until he'd started to reach down, almost putting his hand on Roman's cheek, and Roman made a small squealing noise to go with his completely tomatoed face. Virgil gasped slightly louder than he'd meant to and immediately recoiled.

"Shit, sorry, I just..." he considered shutting his ridiculous mouth and trying to move on, but he figured he couldn't leave that one without some kind of excuse. "I just haven't really looked at your eyes before. Not like, really, I mean. They're... nice. I like the little red bits." His voice grew much quieter as he spoke. He was facing away from Roman, and thank god, because if Roman could see his face he'd see peach-colored cheeks and a childish smile. And how very uncharacteristic of Virgil that would be.

"Thanks," Roman finally managed to huff. He stood slowly, trying to gather himself, and walked over to his desk, grabbing his car keys. He jangled them in his fingers, raising his eyebrows and silently asking Virgil if he'd take him up on the ride offer. Virgil, who had barely managed to discipline his face before Roman turned to him, just smiled very slightly and nodded.

Virgil grabbed his backpack, and Roman led the way from his room and out the front door to his ridiculous shiny-red mustang, which happened to have white racer stripes. Virgil thought this was pretty funny, but kept a sarcastic tease to himself for once in his life.

Virgil texted Roman his address from the passenger seat. While the bus ride to Virgil's house from Roman's was about 20-30 minutes, the car ride was less than 10. Roman considered putting on some music, but decided against it, considering what happened the last time they were alone with just music and each other. What the heckity heck is happening here?  When I imagine... love... this is what comes to mind. He cringed at himself, surprised and disgusted that he was admitting that. This doesn't feel the same as it does with Logan though... so then, maybe I truly love Logan, and Virgil just inexplicably makes my heart flutter? Of course, the only other possibility is so much worse-

Roman's thoughts were interrupted by Virgil shouting "RED LIGHT!!!" very suddenly, and Roman slammed the breaks.

"Jesus Princey, are you trying to kill me!? Is that why you were so hell-bent on driving me home??" Virgil's voice was mostly panic, but laced with some half-hearted sarcasm. He clearly had more panic and less sarcasm in it than he'd meant to. He was holding onto his seat and the door beside him for dear life, looking at Roman with wide eyes, his chest heaving comically. Roman was too dazed to laugh.

"Shit, I'm sorry," He looked up at the street light, which was in fact red. "I got lost in thought for a minute. I won't let it happen again while I'm responsible for you. My deepest apologies." Roman would have normally faux bowed and reached out for Virgil's hand to kiss his knuckles, but unfortunately Virgil was making him feel... well, bitterly jittery and not very glittery. Or maybe, too glittery. He didn't know anymore; all he knew is he had to leave his thoughts for when he got Virgil and then himself home safe.

"Lost in thought?" Virgil let that little comment slip sooner than he could corral himself, and almost brought his hand to cover his mouth, but far too late. Roman just looked at him anxiously, sighing.

"Yeah. I guess so." Roman wasn't normally this dismissive, and Virgil knew far better at this point than to press.

Before they were even on Virgil's street, he broke their awkward silence with an extremely unexpected "thanks for driving me home, Ro. You didn't have to, and I really appreciate it."

Roman was shaken to the core, partially by Virgil's sincerity and partially by the nickname. "Oh, uh, well, no need to thank me now. I nearly killed you once, and you aren't safe and sound at your destination just yet." He smiled softly over at the taller emo. Virgil just returned the smile.

A few moments later came a quiet "really though." Virgil's capacity for sincerity wasn't very extensive, and if anyone knew that it was Roman. He felt a blush creeping up his neck, and couldn't think of a good response.

Finally Roman turned onto Virgil's street, adhering to the 10 mph speed limit. He cruised to a stop in front of... what was apparently Virgil's house.

It wasn't what Roman was expecting at all. Not that his... notion, that Virgil's house looked something like Gru's house from Despicable Me, was something he thought was realistic. He just hadn't known how else to imagine it. Instead of anything close to dark and sinister, the outer walls were made of some gentle tan planks all stacked horizontally. There was a light turquoise front door with a rounded top, and to its left a large window covered most of the street-facing wall. In the window, Roman could see a round inviting table with a mother, a father and a young boy sharing dinner, all smiling and seemingly caught up in their nightly banter. They were all laughing and seemed so... happy. The house itself seemed to emanate a calm happiness.

"Is this...?" Roman gestured vaguely toward the house with the address Virgil had given him.

"Yep. There's my parents, and my brother. I guess I just missed the start of dinner." Virgil reached down between his ankles to grab his bag.

"Talk about clashing aesthetics." Roman smiled mischievously at Virgil, hoping to lighten the mood without sounding like a complete jerk, at least.

Virgil caught onto this, looking over and offering him a breathy laugh. "I know. It's almost a crime for me to live here."

Roman giggled, and they found themselves stuck looking into each other's eyes once again.

"W-well, I'd better-" Virgil turned and made to open his door, but something possessed Roman to lean over to Virgil and grab his shirt, accidentally pulling him far too close to his face. They both yelped simultaneously at the close proximity, and Virgil leapt back as far as his seat would allow him, grabbing it similarly to how he'd done when Roman had nearly driven through the red light earlier.

Virgil almost said something, but some noise outside stopped him. He turned to seek its source, giving Roman a view past him as well.

"Virgil, honey, is that you?" his mom called from the doorstep. She held Atticus on her hip, and Virgil's dad towered behind them in the doorway. all of them were waving. Virgil waved back deftly, and opened the car door. He turned to Roman once again, who looked as though someone had just stomped on his heart and twisted their foot viciously.

Virgil couldn't bring himself to smile at him, but offered instead something he hoped sounded kind. "See you in class tomorrow. And... thanks again for the ride."

With that, Virgil got out and shut the door behind him, and Roman watched as he reunited with his picture perfect family, unable to move for some god forsaken reason.

"Is that one of your friends from that biology project, Virgil? He's so cute!" Roman could hear Virgil's mom squeal at her approaching son.

"Mom, leave it be, will you? he's-" Virgil's voice was cut off as their front door was shut. Roman eventually managed to take a single deep breath.

He twisted in his seat to face forward again, gripping the steering wheel with whitening knuckles and staring blankly at the mustang logo in the wheel's center. What. Was. That.

...

Roman's ride home was fast. At least, it felt much faster than the ride to Virgil's house. He didn't come close to running any more red lights, and before he knew it he was twisting the keys out of the ignition and then stepping through his front door.

He couldn't shake the daze that was clouding all of his senses. He wasn't intercepted by either of his parents on his route from the front door to his bedroom, so there was nothing to distract him from his... distractedness. He flopped onto his bed, laying on his back the same way he'd done less than half an hour ago when Virgil had almost...

That's when the haziness suddenly sped up, and the fog in Roman's brain rapidly became a hurricane. He was so confused by his own feelings that he had to squeeze his eyes shut to will away a sob. He didn't know what he was doing anymore. He pushed the palms of his hands against his closed eyelids, trying to distract himself with the aching pain and sparkling stars they brought to his eyes.

Meanwhile, Virgil had eaten dinner, thankfully and willingly accepting the pleasant distraction of his family's company. His mom was an excellent cook, and Atticus was extra animated about the stories of his adventures at school that day. He and his best friend had apparently played by the creek during recess, and found a tadpole to poke and prod. Virgil found his brother very endearing when he told his stories.

However, as all things are, his distraction was only temporary. Soon he found himself having finished the washing up after dinner and slowly trudging his way up the stairs to his room. The moment he shut his door behind him, all of the feelings that had been kept down since he'd gotten out of Roman's car crashed into him like a 20 foot wave. He leaned back against the shut door, sinking down to sit on the floor and hold his knees.

Roman and Virgil, clueless of each other, had the exact same thought at the exact same time.

Fuck. Why do I feel this way?