#s/i: florian holcomb

[matchasprouts]

All Ye Mighty - Chapter 3

[ yes i did just copy paste Eddie's whole rant from the script what about it ]

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[ Ao3 Link ]

Florian’s old targets never really fought back like the new ones did. He didn’t come home with the same wounds that he came home with now when he was picking off smaller petty criminals.

He’d learned how to stitch himself up after getting stabbed one night, simply because he refused to go to the hospital. He couldn’t explain the wounds without giving himself away.

The only problem started when the Watchmen were formed, and he had to meet with a group of others at the end of every night.

Tonight was the first meeting. Adrian wanted to talk about pooling efforts to focus on one large group, and Florian already knew it wasn’t going to work out.

After all, they had a Comedian in the room.

Luckily, the Comedian was accompanied by his partner, the Ghost. Hopefully, he’d be able to keep him in check, but Florian was ready to toss either of them should they get too rowdy.

“We’re just waiting for one more person,” Florian spoke up, when he noticed a few people getting fidgety. “He likes to drop in last minute. Please just try to be patient for a moment longer.”

Apparently, Ghost didn’t like being patient, and he was met with a glare from him. He almost said something, but then there was a flash of blue and an uncomfortable tingling in the air before they were looking at Dr. Manhattan and his paramour, Janey Slater.

Florian looked to Adrian now, giving him a small nod and smile so he knew he could get started.

Adrian started his little speech, and Florian took a chance to look around the room. Out of everyone, he figured that Nite Owl II and his partner, Rorschach, would be the most likely to work well in a team. They already seemed set on it, paying close attention to Adrian as he spoke.

Silk Spectre II- who was surprisingly young, considering that this was not a young person’s game- looked like she was only there because she was bored. Like she didn’t have anything better to do. She likely wouldn’t be a great team player.

And then, of course, there was the Comedian and the Ghost, objectively two of the rudest masks to ever take on the job. The Comedian, at the very least, was open about how stupid he thought things were, but the Ghost rarely even spoke.

If anyone was going to quit early, it would be those two.

He snapped out of his thoughts when the Comedian spoke up. “Bullshit,” he spat, taking his cigar out of his mouth to blow out some of the smoke. His partner rolled his eyes, clearly not looking forward to his tangent.

There was a pause, and then, “For a guy who calls himself the Comedian,

I can never tell when you're joking,” from Adrian, his head slightly tilted to the side and annoyance peeking past his carefully constructed neutral expression.

“Watchmen. That's the real joke,” the Comedian continued, unscrewing the cap on his flask and taking a swig of whatever was inside. “It didn't work 15 years ago,

and it ain't gonna work now, because you wanna play cowboys and Indians.”

“Maybe we should agree on no drinking at meetings,” Nite Owl II suddenly spoke up, staring down the flask in the Comedian’s hand. “Rorschach and I have made headway on the gang problem by working together.”

Which was true, from what Florian had observed. The two were a good team, and they’d be useful for the Watchmen.

“A group this size seems like a publicity stunt. I'm not in it for the ink,” Rorschach suddenly cut in, and Florian felt it was time for him to say something.

“If this were a publicity stunt, we would have cameras in here, would we not?” he said, loud enough to be heard, but soft enough that they would be more likely to trust him. “We genuinely want to work together to help solve some of the problems in our city. I mean, how can we live here and do nothing?”

“Brigade is right,” Adrian stepped in, shooting Florian a grateful look. “We can do so much more. We can save this world, with the right leadership.”

The Comedian let out a sharp laugh at that, the suddenness and volume making his partner glare down at him.

“Yeah. And that'd be you, right, Ozy? I mean, hell, you're the smartest man on the planet,” he spat, his expression turning sour for a moment before he was taking another drink from his flask.

“It doesn’t take a genius to see that the world has problems,” Adrian immediately countered. He was doing good with keeping himself calm and composed, but Florian could see the cracks starting to form.

“But it takes a room of morons to think they're small enough for you to handle,” the Comedian snapped back, a scowl now on his face. “You people. You hear Moloch's back in town, get your panties all in a bunch. You think catching him matters?”

“Justice matters!” Rorschach suddenly cut in, taking a step forward and immediately being stopped by a hand on his shoulder from his partner.

The Comedian chuckled at that, shaking his head. Florian could see the Ghost’s hand twitch, like he was two seconds away from smacking him in the back of the head. “You’re causing a scene,” he hissed, but his partner ignored him.

“Justice. Justice is coming to all of us. No matter what the fuck we do. You know, mankind's been trying to kill each other off since the beginning of time. Now we finally have the power to finish the job,” he said, sticking his cigar back in his mouth as he stood up.

“Ain't nothing gonna matter once those nukes start flying. We'll all be dust,” he continued, moving his hands in a “poof” motion to accentuate his point. He moved over to the board with the map on it before continuing.

“Then Ozymandias here…” he started, as he pulled out his lighter, flicked it open, and lit it. No one moved to stop him as he held it under the map, setting it alight. “... will be the smartest man on the cinder.”

He left after that, followed closely behind by his partner, who was already scolding him in a hushed, but harsh tone.

“Maybe… maybe this isn’t gonna work out,” Nite Owl II spoke up, and Florian quickly realized that it wouldn’t be easy to salvage the situation.

He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it when he heard Janey instead, telling Dr. Manhattan that she wanted to go home. So, in a flash of blue, that’s presumably where they went.

That was okay. They didn’t need Manhattan. “Please just listen to me,” Florian all but begged the duo in front of him, still holding out hope that they could be convinced. “The Comedian is a jaded old man who says shit like that to feel relevant. He’s an attention whore but- but this could really work out. You two work great together, and Ozymandias and I have been partnered for half a year now, I really think we can do this.”

The two of them stared at him for a long moment, before glancing at each other. “We could… give it a try, at least,” Nite Owl II finally said, offering a slightly awkward smile.

Florian gave a significantly more genuine one in reply. “Thank you, really. You have no idea how much this means.”

They said their goodbyes after that, and Florian discovered that Silk Spectre II must have slipped out while they were talking.

“Well, that could have gone better,” Adrian said as he made his way toward Florian, removing his mask as he went. “I don’t know why we invited that asshole.”

Florian chuckled softly at the word, entirely unused to Adrian cussing. “We didn’t. We invited his partner, and he just had to come along for the ride.” Adrian gave a soft hum at the explanation, even tapping his chin lightly.

“Well, I don’t suppose it’d be too late to rescind the offer?”

That got a sharp laugh out of Florian, one that made him quickly cover his mouth. Unfortunately, it also sent a piercing pain through his side, where the injury he’d gotten before tonight’s meeting was. He’d ignored it to make it through the speech, but now it was coming back with a vengeance.

He let out a sharp wince, immediately catching his partner’s attention. “You’re injured? For how long?” Adrian asked, taking a few quick steps forward to get to him and immediately looking for the wound.

“Since before the meeting,” Florian replied, surprised when he didn’t flinch when Adrian’s hand found his side. When he drew it back, there was blood on the tips of his fingers.

He let out a dissatisfied hum. “Come on, you shouldn’t just ignore your needs because of a meeting,” he said, grabbing Florian by the wrist and pulling him toward the locker room.

It was rather sweet that Adrian was so concerned, seeing as they used to refuse to hang out with each other after patrol- there was always the looming fear that if they became friends, they could become targets. But it hadn’t happened yet, and they were only getting closer.

“Take off your top, I need unobstructed access to properly stitch it up, should it need them,” Adrian told him after sitting him down in the locker room, and he just nodded.

Adrian had never seen him head on without his shirt, but he trusted him enough at that point. Really, the worst part was pulling his shirt over his head after his jacket was off. The stretch made him hiss, but it was over soon enough.

He didn’t notice when Adrian came back and froze at the sight of him, simply focusing on getting a good look at the wound. It didn’t take long for him to look up though, first glancing at the first aid kit.

“I don’t think it’ll need stitches, just a clean up and some bandaging,” he said, smiling up at Adrian, who cleared his throat and made his way over. He kneeled down next to Florian and popped the kit open, pulling out some alcohol wipes first.

He worked in silence, focusing on the wound and how much he was trying not to look at Florian’s chest. He’d never considered himself to be physically attracted to his partner- though, he’d probably admit to being emotionally attracted to him- so this was… a new development.

“You okay, Adrian?” Florian finally spoke up, snapping Adrian out of his thoughts as he finished up with the bandages.

“Yes, I’m fine,” Adrian replied with a reassuring smile, one that Florian returned. “Make sure you change the bandages regularly until you’re healed. I can walk you home, if you’d like?”

They hadn’t been to each other's houses yet, but Florian just smiled and put on his shirt. “I’d like that,” he said, offering a hand to Adrian.

Decidedly, this was a bad idea. Adrian knew what happened when he got attached to people, and Florian’s apparently obliviousness would do him no favours. He was running head first into rejection, and he knew it would hurt anyway.

But, for now, he was simply going to focus on how Florian’s hand felt against his- cold, soft despite his day job, and small.

It was a simple thing to focus on. But it helped. And he liked holding his hand.

Maybe he’d get to do it more often.

[matchasprouts]

All Ye Mighty - Chapter 1

[ WHOO ADRIAN FIC MY BELOVED, I STARTED ONE A YEAR AGO AND NEVER GOT ANYWHERE BUT I'VE GOT THIS NOW ]

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[ Ao3 Link ]

“What do you mean I should become a masked vigilante? Do you know how often I’d get my ass kicked?”

Florian, at this point, was used to the masks that now populated New York, having seen them all over the news and in person a few times. He’d openly admit that his favourite was Mothman- he always liked the idea of flying.

He was not, however, used to his friends suggesting he should become one.

The reason why was obvious: his “gift”. He wasn’t born with it, as far as he was aware, but something did trigger it in his childhood. It was simple, he didn’t really have much control over it, certainly not enough to start fighting with it.

‘Telekinesis’, the doctors called it. Rare, but not totally unheard of. Usually formed at birth or through trauma. Decidedly, according to his therapist, it was trauma.

It didn’t bother him much, like it did other people with the condition. It helped around the house, that was for sure. Plus it was a great party trick.

But, a lot of people thought he should be using it for more.

He knew better than that though. Every time he even considered it, he was reminded that he couldn’t control it when he woke from a nightmare and found his nightstand a foot off the ground, or the floor length mirror in the corner of his room shattered.

Heroism simply wasn’t feasible, he would much rather leave it to the professionals and law enforcement.

And he told his friends that. Always reminded them that he couldn’t control it and, even if he could, he wasn’t strong enough for something like that. He didn’t know how to fight, he could hardly take a joking punch without bruising, and his low iron made him bleed easily.

Plus, he was still in the binding stage. There was no way he’d be able to fight in a binder without hurting himself, and he didn’t want to be labelled as a woman if a reporter ever caught sight of his chest.

Funnily enough, one of his friends retaliated to that by making him a suit that made his gender unclear, which meant that- paired with his deeper voice thanks to HRT- would make people automatically assume he was a man.

That didn’t suddenly convince him though, but he did keep the costume in the back of his closet, as a ‘just in case’ kind of thing.

Really, the only reason he ended up changing his mind was because he got mugged on his way home one day, and very quickly realized that he genuinely had no idea how to defend himself.

He still wasn’t sure if his attacker survived when he threw out his arms and sent them flying back. He heard the crack when they hit the wall behind them, and saw the blood that adorned the brick when they slumped to the side.

Not wanting to deal with explaining that it was self defense, he ran. And when he got home, he started looking for a place to learn how to fight.

His friends, while they knew he was taking self defense classes, didn’t know why. They didn’t get to know his plan, not when he knew they wouldn’t be able to keep his mouth shut. Besides, them knowing who he was was dangerous. If he made enemies and they knew about his friends, he couldn’t imagine what they’d do.

So he kept it from them. It wasn’t hard, he’d been lying about not remembering his past since before he knew them. It was practically second nature at this point.

By the time he could defend himself well enough to put on the mask, a man called Ozymandias made his debut.

His golden armour was, admittedly, a little gaudy, but the purple cape worked well with it. If Florian had to guess, he’d say the whole aesthetic was a tribute to a handful of historical figures- Alexander the Great and Ramses II (otherwise known as Ozymandias), it seemed.

Good, maybe he’d be able to get along with one of the masks when he made his own debut; a fellow history buff seemed like a likely friend. Or, at the very least, a partner to work with.

He waited about a week before making his own debut, not wanting to take any attention away from Ozymandias right after he introduced himself to the city.

Since his first ‘mission’ was a fire- one that was very easy for him to put out, as he learned that his telekinesis could easily pass as pyrokinesis- the papers took to calling him ‘Brigade’, like a fire brigade. It fit. He liked it.

He was quick to make a name for himself, focusing on things he knew he could do well. Putting out fires, taking down the occasional small time criminal or mugger. One time, he even pulled a cat from a tree, and very quickly became a running joke amongst the people who considered masks to be insane.

His reputation quickly became that of a weak but generally kinder mask. He’d yet to kill a criminal, hardly even beat them up past what was needed to tie them up. Hell, he’d even managed to talk a bank robber down once without even touching them.

It was about a month or two into his new side job that he actually met Ozymandias, and at a gala-like event no less. He hadn’t felt entirely comfortable showing up to an event like this, especially since he was supposed to show up in costume (and did), but he could handle it.

Ozymandias was the one to approach him, simply giving him a gentle smile when he almost jumped out of his skin at a sudden hand on his shoulder, sending a nearby chair flying into a wall.

That was enough to get him to grab the fellow mask’s hand and drag him away from the scene, unwilling to explain what happened.

“Leading me away already? Why, Brigade, you’ll give the media all kinds of ideas.” Ozymandias teased, making him freeze in his tracks. Decidedly, this was a good place to stop. He was extremely happy for the fact that his mask covered the top half of his face, because the blush on his cheeks was going to kill him.

Once he was over that, he realized he’d never heard Ozymandias’s voice before. He furrowed his eyebrows, quickly placing what he thought his accent was. “German?” he asked softly, talking more to himself than anyone else.

He looked up when he heard a low hum. “You’ve got good ears. Do you always guess accents when you meet someone new?”

Ah. He could feel his face flush again. “Oh-! No, no I don’t. Or, I try not to. I’m just- talking makes me less nervous, so I vocalize my thoughts in places like this. Sorry.” He heard a soft chuckle, and quickly realized that Ozymandias wasn’t upset like he thought.

“Well, no matter your nerves, I’m glad to finally get you alone. I’m curious, why is it that you stay away from things that would give you more publicity? I think the worst person I’ve seen you go against was that… Captain Carnage?”

Florian cringed at the mention of Captain Carnage, remembering all too well how he begged to be beat up. He’d pretty much just thrown him a bone when he sent him flying far away from him, and then had to deal with him for the rest of the day until The Comedian showed up and kicked his ass.

He still appreciated the Comedian for that, even if he’d never thank him (apparently, showing him any sort of kindness either made him assume you wanted to fuck him or that you wanted to fight him).

Finally, he realized he’d yet to respond to the question. “Oh, uh, I just know my limits. I’m not a very good fighter, I very much rely on catching people off guard and keeping them moving until they tire out.”

Ozymandias hummed at that, bringing a hand up to lightly tap his chin as he observed Florian. “How would you like to work together? We can be partners. I believe it’d be good for you to have someone watching your back. You never know the kind of trouble you could get into.”

Oh god, that was basically an invitation to get into that kind of trouble!

Of course he took it. He thought Ozymandias was hot.

“Well, I guess you’ve got yourself a partner now,” Florian replied, smiling as he shook Ozymandias’s hand, making it official.

He really couldn’t have imagined the domino effect that would have.

[matchasprouts]

All Ye Mighty - Chapter 2

[ starting a polyship fic now that this chapter is done <3 can't wait for that gay mess <3 <3 ]

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[ Ao3 Link ]

Vaguely, Florian really wanted to ask his new partner in crime-fighting why he tended to go after drug rings a lot. He’d definitely noticed it since he began working with him and, while he wasn’t complaining, he had to admit that it was a little curious.

But he never asked. Plenty of masks had specific types of people that they went after. Rorschach favoured petty criminals, kidnappers, and the like. Nite Owl II mostly went along with this, but seemed to target a lot of thieves as well. Silk Spectre II also had a type- traffickers, whether human or drug related. Really, the only one he’d seen without a real target seemed to be the Comedian.

Personally, Florian enjoyed going after the people who’d commit hate crimes. Didn’t matter the crime, if they attacked someone for their differences, he was sure to find them.

And, like himself, Ozymandias never asked. Hell, he never even asked how he found these people.

They shared a level of respect for each other that Florian hadn’t seen in a lot of partnered up masks. The Ghost and the Comedian despised each other, Rorschach would often stalk Nite Owl, and Silk Spectre would ask questions that no one should really be answering for their own safety.

She’d pulled that on him once, asking if he was married yet or if he had any kids. He shut her down quick, telling her that it was none of her business what he did with his life unmasked. She never tried to pry into him again.

And then there was the media. They seemed obsessed with masks who had partners, often implying that they had some sort of relationship outside of work. The amount of times they’d asked him and Ozymandias if they were dating was too many to remember, and saying ‘no’ had become such a routine that he cut it off before they even got to ask.

As tiring as all of this got, he didn’t regret putting on the mask. He felt better about where he was in the world by the time he finally made it home in the early hours in the morning, satisfied in the knowledge that he was making his city a better place.

Sure the bruises took forever to heal, and he often had to stitch himself up before collapsing into his bed, but he was also learning. Ozymandias had taught him a lot more about how to effectively fight than those self defense classes ever had, and he was gaining a better hold over his gift.

Plus, his success rate was growing, without the help of his partner. Despite working mainly together, Ozymandias liked to keep a lot of his targets secret from Florian, so he often had to spend a lot of his nights alone. He usually went after petty criminals on those nights, or went after his own favoured targets. Eventually, he added a new kind of people to that list- abusers.

He’d seen it happen. Watched the man lead what seemed to be his wife into that alley. He’d heard him yelling at her.

His reaction was purely instinct at that point, but by the time he was done with the man, his wife seemed relieved. Happy, even. She thanked him over and over again, even hugged him tightly and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.

And he smiled at her, told her that everything was going to be okay, and that she needed to get the police for him. She did so without question or complaint, running off for the nearest police station.

That was a satisfying night. It was the first time he’d allowed himself to be proud of his work, as he watched the man be taken into police custody. The media was on him immediately like a swarm, unfortunately, but he thought he handled it well enough. It’d been a long time since cameras were on him without Ozymandias by his side.

He did not, however, take to the streets for a while after that.

It wasn’t that he was injured, it was because he felt the need to re-evaluate what he was doing. He’d heard the complaints from the police, he’d heard that a lot of them had been losing their jobs due to masks doing them for them.

As a man who had never once trusted the police in his life, he genuinely didn’t care.

The corruption was always going to be there. Florian had seen what masks had done to people. He watched the Comedian beat the life out of a man, witnessed the Ghost throwing someone out of a window to their death.

Not to mention Dr. Manhattan. As long as he was here, people were going to do whatever the hell they wanted. What was the point of being what society considered good if your life was going to be short anyway?

A lot of people threw themselves at masks now. They did what they could to not get caught, of course, but they no longer cared if they were found.

“Do you think we’re making crime worse?” Florian finally asked, while he and Ozymandias were alone in the soon-to-be Watchmen HQ locker room. The team hadn't been put together yet- their first meeting was quickly approaching- so it was just them in there.

“I mean, we’ve been working together for half a year now, and hardly anyone is scared of us. It feels like we’re all just going through the motions. People who want to do bad things just will, and they’re not even surprised anymore when they get caught,” he continued, staring down at his binder for a long moment before sighing and pulling it on.

He heard a soft hum from Ozymandias, glancing over at him. “I believe you’re right,” his partner replied, his grip on his button up tightening for a second before he was putting it on. “I can’t remember the last time a criminal ran, or attempted to keep from being discovered. We no longer scare them.”

“That’s disheartening,” Florian muttered, pulling a t-shirt on over his binder and patting his chest to ensure it looked flat. “We’re supposed to be keeping the peace, but our existence is doing the exact opposite. What the fuck’s up with that? What are we doing wrong?”

Ozymandias didn’t answer. Vaguely, Florian figured he couldn’t. Sometimes, even the smartest man in the world didn’t know what to say.

Finally, Florian was done changing into his civilian clothes. The only reason he changed like this in the locker room is because he and Ozymandias were always alone in there when he changed, and he felt like he could trust his partner.

“Brigade-” he heard, as he went to leave. He paused, turning to the man with a smile.

“You can call me Florian. No point in pretending when you’re the only person I trust.”

Ozymandias was quiet for a long moment, before returning his smile. “Then you may call me by my name,” he replied, knowing that Florian already knew he was. Why wouldn’t he? Adrian Veidt was all over the news.

“Be safe out there, Florian.”

“I can try.”

But trying wasn’t always good enough.