#lil mini preview of angst here y'all

[rosesisupposes]

Midnight Marauders

Part 1 of Another Goddamn Hero Story

read on ao3

Story Summary: Roman used to be a Prince. He used to be a superhero. Now, he and his fellow villain Patton are the biggest threat to the status quo of Harmony City, and there’s no pair of heroes more trusted to stop them than Logan and Virgil. What happens when they clash? Another goddamn hero story, that’s what.

taglist: @residentanchor @royally-anxious @bewarethegrammarpolice   @nightmarebeforevirgil @jemthebookworm @arandompasserby  @sparkly-rainbow-salt @astral-eclipse​ @thelowlysatsuma @monsterinatophat @turtally-pawsome @um-yes-hi-hello @idkaurl @immortaldystopia

Chapter Characters: Creativity/Roman; Morality/Patton;

Chapter Pairings: Queerplatonic Royality; 

Chapter Warnings: Asphyxiation/choking, almost-murder by protagonists, theft, description of manic/depressive episodes

The sun was setting on Harmony City, gilding rooftops and glass walls in golden light. It bathed the underbellies of pink and purple clouds, and lit up the face of the dark-haired man sitting on the edge of a roof, dangling his legs off the edge. I’ll never get tired of this view, he thought. It’s the only time this goddamn city looks as good as it sounds.

A choking sound behind him made him whirl, only to see a costumed man collapse, gasping for air. Another costumed figure in grey, white, and blue walked past the man as he fell, smiling. “Sorry I interrupted your moment, Roman, he looked like he was going to push you.”

“Pat, I can fly, I would have been fine,” Roman said.

“No one messes with my family, kiddo,” Pat said with a beatific smile.

“You’re only knocking him out, right?”

“...yes?”

“Patton. Come on, we talked about this”

“Finneee,” Patton relented, waving a hand with a careless gesture. The choking noises stopped, the fallen chest rising once more, but the form didn’t appear able to rise quite yet.

“He’s just a sidekick, he won’t be a risk. Where have you been? I’ve been waiting for ages.”

“Ro, it has been five minutes at most.”

“Like I said, ages. Where have you been?”

“Just checking the perimeter behind us again. I’ve only run into this fine fella right here,” he said, gesturing to the prone form behind him.

“Weird, I wonder where his hero is. Usually they catch up much faster, even if it was just a scouting trip. Guess we’re fine to head home, then.”

Roman stepped off the roof of the skyscraper into open air, hands glowing with red light as he held himself aloft gently for the long distance towards the ground. Between the dusk light and the building’s shadow, his dark costume was only noticeable from the occasional glint of streetlights off his gold belt and embroidered accents. His black-and-red cape fluttered gently with his movement. As Patton leapt off the building and caught up with him, the fabric of his costume flapped more vigorously, pulled to and fro with the wind his partner was generating. Roman looked over and chuckled. Patton’s eyes were closed as he fell in a controlled drop, wind currents wrapped around him. Eddies in the air played around the other man’s form like excited children, whirling away and exploring only to return to his side. His long grey tunic flapped over loose white trousers, held in place at his waist by a pale blue sash. A matching blue eye cracked open as Patton looked back through silver glasses frames at Roman and grinned.

“Worrying about me, kiddo?”

“Of course not, you’ve only done this a hundred times. Why do you like falling off buildings so much, again?”

“Why, Roman, worried I don’t understand the gravity of the situation?” Patton cheesed back.

Roman had heard this exact joke a dozen times, but Patton’s glee in telling it never failed to make him laugh all the same.

They both touched down safely in the alley by the building, hidden in shadows that grew steadily darker. Roman glanced out into the street and scanned for movement. Pedestrians turned the corner up a couple blocks, shopping bags on their arms. A plastic bag blew through the gutter. A delivery truck and a handful of cars rumbled down the street. Here in the financial district, things got quiet as it became night. Roman ticked through his mental checklist of threats and oddities, confirming that all was as it should be for this part of the city. “We’re good, Pat.”

Both men stepped further into the alley as Roman lifted his arms, conjuring a wall of light. Red at first, it hardened and darkened into a black, physical construct, shielding them from view. Patton removed his loose robes to reveal his normal t-shirt and jeans, while another glow of red light removed Roman’s costume and left a similarly-normal outfit in its place. They were about to move out into the range of streetlights when Patton pointed at Roman’s face with a small shake of his head. Roman removed his black-and-gold mask with an embarrassed smile. He almost forgot he wore it at least half the time, but he had no interest in blowing his cover. It was the only non-conjured part of his costume, so that his identity could be secret even when his concentration broke.

Letting the wall-construct vanish, Roman led the way as the two friends strode out into the night, heading north and west down one of the diagonal boulevards that spread out from City Center like rays of the now-vanished sun. They chatted softly as they walked, never letting silence fall for more than a few moments as Roman led them through the grid of Harmony City towards their destination. He closed his eyes to double-check his mental map of the city, winced, and abruptly tried to steer Patton up a street heading north. He’d hesitated too long, though - Patton had already seen what Ro had been trying to avoid.

A construction site, still in progress after a year and a half, sat on the border of the north- and south-western districts. After many long delays, the crater that had once stood there was filled and new foundations had been laid. The skeleton of a growing building jutted out like a new tooth in a rotted mouth. The sight made Patton stiffen, resisting Roman’s tug on his arm.

“So they really are trying to rebuild it, are they?” he commented. His tone was too careful, too flat and uncaring, his face too stony.

“Pat-”

“Do they think rebuilding it will fix anything? That a shiny new building will make it easier to forget who died that day?”

Roman broke Patton’s line of sight to the construction, hands on both his friend’s shoulders as he spoke. “Hey. I know it’s hard to see. But we can’t stop right now, remember? What happened there will never be okay, and will never be forgotten. But we can’t do anything about it right now. Later though, I promise. We will.”

Patton stared through Roman for moment, then shook his head to clear it. His painfully blank visage morphed back into his default smile. “You’re right, Ro. I’m just being silly again. I know we’ll take care of it when the time’s right. Let’s go.”

Roman kept a careful hand on Patton’s back as he steered him north, away from the construction and closer to the more residential northwest quadrant of the city. Plate-glass covered office buildings had melted into brick rowhouses and corner stores. Sidewalks swelled wider to sprout trees, each one given its own square patch of earth with an ornamental fence. The sidewalks were fuller, too, of families and residents strolling from circle to circle of light from the antique-style streetlamps. Patton noticed their proximity to their destination first, and nudged Roman with a shoulder. There, surrounded by quaint homes and postage-stamp parks, was one of the enormous chain supermarkets of the neighborhood. Amidst the charm of the district, it looked like a sullen teenager who refused to dress for company, all sharp angles and grey concrete. It had replaced many local bodegas, both as competition and in location, with the owners taking over an entire block and flattening everything that had been there before.

Following the tide of the crowd, Patton and Roman strolled through the automatic doors and grabbed a basket. Looking for all the world like another domestic couple, they chose cereals and fruits and breads, edging in between chatting parents and tired office workers. When their basket was full, they headed straight for the doors to leave, skipping past lines to the registers and passing the theft sensors. Alarms clanged to wakefulness as security burst out of their office, charging at the pair. Patton glanced over at Roman only to see his mask already secure on his face as he smirked back and lifted a hand. A flash of red light swirled around them both as a sudden wind followed it, a moment’s time clothing them both in their costumes. Ruby banana peels dropped from Roman’s bolt of light to land right underneath the security officers’ feet, knocking them flat on their backs as they slipped. They struggled to stand, only to find the air itself preventing them from rising, pressing back against them in a stiff wind. Shoppers and bystanders scattered, screaming until they realized the two supers were focused on the security guards alone. A wall of air prevented the other employees from getting near as long red arm reached over into an open cash register. A fistful of bills made its way back to Roman, but not before a small piece detached and formed a small card.

Catching the cash, Roman gestured and lifted the shopping basket copy he’d just made out of the gliding door. “We’re Gucci,” he called to his friend. “Let’s blow this capitalist mess of a popsicle stand.” Patton grinned and zipped over, his propelling winds blowing receipts into the air. They turned to face the onlookers still staring in shock as they waved goodbye.

“Mérci beaucoup, thank you, you delightful guys, gals, and nonbinary pals! You’ve been a lovely audience,” Roman announced. “My compliments in particular to these brave souls, dedicated to defending the monetary gains of this gentrifying conglomerate of a grocery store, may your bosses recognize your efforts and give you all raises- ahaha I’m sorry, I can’t say that with a straight face, goodness. My compliments and admiration also to the lovely person who hit a high C note in their scream, please quit your job and pursue your well-deserved career on the stage at once. And to you all, if you’d ever like to be dazzled once more, I have, of course, left our calling card. Goodnight, Harmony City!” With a twirl of his cape that showed off the intricate gold embroidery, Roman followed Patton out the door, towing his glowing red basket of groceries as they both soared into the night sky, laughing in triumph.

As they vanished, the air pressure released the security guards. They scrambled to their feet and ran to the cash register that had been emptied. All that was left were some singles and an ornate card as big as the shaking hand the first guard to reach it used to pick it up. A black background was emblazoned with a bold, curling red M on one side and a stylized white hurricane on the other. In embossed writing read a greeting that was as cheeky as the villain that had conjured it.

“You’ve Had the Pleasure of Being Robbed by Gale Force and the Crimson Marauder.”

D.R.E.A.M. Index #337413 Classification: Class Z.2.iv [Secondary Tier Villain, unknown] Name: Crimson Marauder Status: ACTIVE Civilian Name: Unknown [Unregistered]             //Unconfirmed report that his first name is “Roman” Affiliation: Villain Partners/Sidekicks: DI#337437 - Gale Force; Primary Foes: DI#265351 - Commander Eagle, DI#337236 - Silver Sparrow             //No particular rivalries since Incident 15-Z-0632; has fought most heroes in the city Powers: Psionic Construction             //Appears to create constructs along the red light spectrum only unless it is a previously-created object being stored in a psionic pocket dimension Costume: Black Suit with Red Blocks, Gold Belt, Black and Red Cape with Gold accents; Black-and-gold mask Age: Approx 25 yrs [uncertain] Height: Approx. 6’ Pronouns: He/Him H.E.A.R.T.S. Class N/A Note: Formerly known as Scarlet Prince, see DI#337321; Origin and family unknown

The pair of thieves were still laughing at another successful heist was they soared south over the city, heading home with their newly-secured food. Roman spotted the space they called home and they banked as one, zooming into to land under an overpass in the neighborhood called Sycamore Heights. Once it had been indeed a high ground covered by those graceful trees, but those days were long past. Now it was the ‘rough’ neighborhood that parents cautioned their children to avoid, where car windows were rolled up as they passed through, and any crowds vanished as the streetlights came on.

It was also Roman’s home, and had been for his entire life. He stretched out an arm as they approached the overpass. What had previously resembled a dark black concrete slab grew a door in a flash of red light. Checking their surroundings, Roman waved an arm to welcome Patton in ahead of him.

The interior revealed itself to be a small sitting room, kitchen, and bedroom. An entire home was hidden inside the dark block, complete with knick-knacks and clutter. Patton took the basket of groceries and deposited them in the tiny fridge, whirling air into a cold front in lieu of electricity.

Roman flopped onto the deep red couch with a sigh, his costume vanishing in a flash as he removed his mask.

“Another successful grocery run. I liked how you pinned the guards this time, Pat. It kept all the civilians back neatly without hurting anyone,” he said, eyes closed as he leaned back onto the cushions. I’m proud of you, he thought, but didn’t say out loud. He knew from experience that too much hinting that Patton’s typical methods were overly violent did not go over well.

“What can I say, Roro, I just want them to feel the pressure of their jobs. Literally!” Patton said, grinning as he shed his costume. He also fell onto the couch, wriggling over until he lay with his head across Roman’s lap. Roman smiled down at him. Even if his friend scared him occasionally, he was so glad to have met him. Life on the streets as a super had never been easy, but having a partner he could trust with his life made it just a bit better. And having a partner like Patton who spent 90% of his time in a blissfully sunshine state of mind was even better than he could have imagined. All Patton seemed to want in return for his perpetual optimism and protection were daily cuddles, and Roman was only too happy to oblige. Even with the high of a heist well done, the night was creeping in and with it, the dark cloud of alone again.

He hated this dark tide that refused to stay receded. Some days he felt quite literally on top of the world as he reached new heights in his flight and construct creation alike. He’d be seized by the inexorable urge to create, and create, and create, surrounding himself with new and more ambitious constructs as the haze of euphoria roared through his veins. Those days burned in red and gold, the way it should be. Just like the day he manifested his powers, when he’d filled his old room and spooked his… well. Those days were his favorite. Even if he sometimes got carried away, and felt unable to stop moving at 100 miles an hour. They were still preferable to the days when the air itself was a weight, when it was all he could do to drag himself out of bed. The world on those days looked as bleak as his head felt, all greys, no reds at all, not outside his window or at his fingertips. The only reason his home didn’t melt away on those days was because of how long it had persisted in this exact form. All other constructs lost their form, unable to maintain without his concentration or energy. He needed Patton the most those days, to make him eat, to keep him from vegetating into nothing. Pat would pull him into his lap and sing nursery rhymes both traditional and of his own invention, throwing in puns and blowing paper animals to dance around their tiny shared room.

Roman was glad he didn’t need to be in a depressive episode to get this sort of treatment, because he loved how soft his friend went when he was in this mode, a caretaker role that felt maybe like a parent, maybe an older brother. Patton’s toothy smile moved more naturally, not acting like a perpetual fixture, but a true demonstration of emotion. His voice danced and dove and trilled along stories of fairies and talking animals and pastel women from space. But his use of his powers was the most different. When Patton was in what Ro privately called ‘Puffball Mode,’ his power was no longer a weapon that could be wielded anywhere, even within others’ lungs. It wasn’t a tool or means of transportation. It was just joy. It was a puppy, flopping around the room and picking up everything that looked bright or shiny. It was a butterfly, paper wings flapping gently before coming to rest on Roman’s nose. It was a warm breeze that smelled like childhood and dreams that had yet to be abandoned.  

They had fantastic powers that set them apart from the vast majority of society, but Patton and Roman were, above all, the owners of many broken things. Their lives had prepared them for this, of course. You don’t survive a life of poverty or foster care without knowing how to fix broken things, without knowing just how far you can push their use before their purpose completely fails. Shoes with holes. Teddy bears without their stuffing. Books without covers. Hearts that have been shattered. Hope that’s been all but lost.

Roman wrapped his arms tighter around Patton as the ginger-haired man removed his glasses and snuggled into his partner’s chest. Yes, they were both broken. That didn’t bother Roman one bit, though. What mattered was that together, they were just a little less so, and together, they’d show a city that called them villains just what it meant when those with the most experience came to fix a broken world.

D.R.E.A.M. Index #337437 Classification: Z.1.iv [Primary Tier Villain, unknown origin] Status: ACTIVE Name: Gale Force Civilian Name: Unknown [Unregistered]             //Unconfirmed report that first name is “Pat” Affiliation: Villain Partners/Sidekicks: DI#337413 - Crimson Marauder Primary Foes: N/A             //No particular rivalries, has fought most heroes in the city Powers: Air Manipulation - Broad Spectrum; Additional Powers Unknown Costume: Grey calf-length tunic, slits up to waist with loose sleeves over loose white trousers; light blue belt; matching blue symbol of a hurricane across the chest. Does not wear a mask.             //First appearance - no costume, just a blue work polo, cream slacks, and gray sweater Age: Unknown             //Estimates range from 18 to 26 Pronouns: [Unknown]             //Believed to be he/him H.E.A.R.T.S. Class N/A Note: Highly volatile, responsible for deaths of DI#265351 and DI#337236, see Incident Report 15-Z-0632; Family and origin unknown

author notes: Welcome to Another Goddamn Hero Story! 

This chapter title is from Dancing’s Not A Crime by Panic! at the Disco and if you would like to understand any future references in this story I highly recommend memorizing the entirety of their album Pray for the Wicked because I’ve been listening repeat for about 3 weeks and it’s perFECT.