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- — -
I don't know who you are.
- — -
The Hero Mercury stared at themself in the mirror. Dark hair, pale golden eyes, and a scar that ran from under one of their eyes to nearly their jaw. All raised and jagged despite its age, the nearly crimson hue contrasting their pale complexion. They were wearing their hero’s uniform, all golds, yellows and purples. The new cloak that the Kings had made them fit snugly on their shoulders.
They picked up their mask from the counter, and easily slid it over their face. It was a bit of a gaudy thing, shaped similarly to a bird with wings to cover their ears. It masked most of their face, covering the distinct scar that split their face in two, and only left their mouth and chin visible.
Mercury grinned at themself in the mirror, chuckling a bit as they watched their reflection do the same. They fitted their earpiece on, looping it under their mask and out of sight. Turning to leave, they slid out the window of their 4th floor apartment, climbing out onto the fire escape.
“Mercury calling in for the night,” they spoke into their earpiece. “Where do you need me Oak?”
- — -
I can't seem to remember you at all, but I know that I lost you one or two forevers ago.
- — -
Mercury ducked into an alleyway, rushing after the figure as they sprinted away from the hero.
“Mercury, come in.” Easton says in their headset. “I need a location to send Mars to.”
“I’m at 9th and 32nd, the alleyway between the bookstore and uhhhh- I think it's a grocer? Hot on the Reaper’s heels.” Mercury responds slightly out of breath from running.
“Got it, ‘Thena should be there soon.”
“They better,” Mercury chuckles, pulling out their crossbow and landing a shot just to the left of the Reaper’s shoulder, thudding harmlessly into the siding next to him.
The Violet Reaper, or better known as simply, The Reaper was part of a group of the most nefarious villains in the city. He was the right hand of Enderian, one of the most powerful villains in the city. Enderian herself was well known for her absolute loath for the Heroes Guild and a penchant to make it everyone else’s problem in a dangerous fashion using her mind-altering abilities.
Mercury suddenly ducks, as The Reaper ahead of them swings his reaver out of nowhere, just barely tearing through the edge of the wings of their suit. “Oh, come on Reaper!” they shout out, trying to add some lightness to the encounter. “I just got this suit man!”
The Reaper chuckles spinning around with another blow, “Well then maybe you shouldn’t have worn wings to a scythe fight Mercury.”
“Would’ve worn my pyjamas tonight if I knew you were going to be out, fighting you is about the same as taking a nap man.”
Usually each fight with The Reaper turned into something of this sort, a blade-swinging fight where the two traded quips back and forth trying to out maneuver each other in both words and weapons.
The Reaper himself had a somewhat lackluster power set, mostly something that seems like a version of enhanced strength, stamina and speed. Yet even though the Guild insisted that The Reaper was simply a supersoldier that Enderian had paid to be her lackey, Mercury could swear that there was something else to him. It’s not like Enderian would just take the cheapest soldier-for-hire that she could find, there had to be something special about him.
They take another shot at him that goes wildly off course as he leaps up on top of the nearest dumpster and pushes off of a windowsill to launch him into the air, across the gap to the fire escape across the alleyway.
“Oh come on!” they shout, “Oak, I have him going up, please redirect Mars.” they say into their headset using code names just in case The Reaper is within earshot.
“Heard that, redirecting Mars now. Hey while you’re at it. Why don’t you try out the new tech the Kings made for you? Chaos said something about you being ‘Birb’ if I remember correctly?” Easton says, the sounds of shuffling papers can be heard in the background of their audio.
“Well, let's see how they meant that then.” Mercury mutters as they find the switches on their belt. They vaguely remember Chaos rambling about it before Mercury had left for patrol that night. They feel at the lettering over each switch, jump, glide, boost. “Here goes nothing!” They switch the one for jump and find themself launched into the air well over the walls of the grocer that the Reaper had climbed over. A pair of wings, or maybe some version of a glider unfolds from behind them. Easily opening up and catching air to propel them back on par with the Reaper.
“Fancy new gadget there Mercury.” He remarks as he notices them gliding and picking up speed to catch up to him. “Catch!”
He chucks a throwing knife from his belt and they swerve out of the way as it sails by their ear. “Nice shot Reaper.” They grin, and pull their crossbow back, a new bolt notched. It fires and slices through the Reaper’s shoulder, a trickle of red blood over his black robe as a small reward.
“Shit.” They hear him groan from below as he clutches at his injury, “Ready when you are.” The Reaper says into his earpiece, as he picks up speed and hurdles over the next alleyway. Mercury swoops after him, their new wings surprisingly nimble. They knock another bolt, and have just barely aimed it when out of nowhere they are knocked out of the sky and tumble to the rooftop below.
The air is knocked out of their lungs, but they barely get a second to recuperate, as they look over their shoulder at the figure that had attacked them. A tall man, his suit nearly a mirror to the Reaper’s all darkened purples and blacks, and a full face mask, though this one was separate from the Reaper’s simple, smooth black shell with veins of purple interwoven into it. This mask was a deep teal colour, with one antler like protrusion coming out of its left side.
“Heyyyy Ward.” Mercury jokes, sucking in air between their words. “Long time no see man. What’ve you been up to?”
Ward stays silent and, using the force field over his forearms, slams them into their chest, knocking the rest of the air free from their chest. Ward was still a mystery to Mercury and the Hero’s guild as a whole. He never talked to any hero directly and the only time anyone heard snippets of his voice was when he talked to the Reaper, or Enderian Herself. Not that hearing his voice was any help to finding his identity and bringing him to justice, due to it being put through a voice changer.
He had simply appeared one day, fully trained and working under Enderian. Mercury wished that they could know whatever dark alley she had pulled him out of to make him like this. Ward also had a very interesting and annoying powerset, as opposed to Reaper, he had short-range teleportation powers as well as the ability to create force fields of many sizes.
“Woah, man.” Mercury kicks themself back onto their feet and blocks the next swinging blow from Ward. “a little heads up next time?” They joke again, before pulling out their trident and making a sweeping attack toward the villain. He teleports out of the way of the blow and knocks them in the back causing them to keel over.
Mercury glances up, trying to find where the Reaper had run off too and spots him two roofs away going head to head with Athena- or Mars technically, and laughs a bit as they catch her socking him in the face.
The strange zwoop-ing sound of Ward’s teleport brings them back to the present and their own fight. They swing again with their trident, landing a hit finally, though you wouldn’t be able to tell on him, as Ward stands and takes the blow with barely any reaction. Great.
Then Ward teleports again and the real fight begins, the two trading blows back and forth, occasionally teleporting or sidestepping away. Mercury manages to get a number of good hits in, but it was hard to feel any sort of satisfaction from it as the villain in front of them barely seemed to register any of the damage he was inflicted.
Mercury only got a reaction out of him when they slammed their trident hard into Ward's jaw. The man took a step back and tripped over the edge of the building into the alleyway below them. Without quite thinking Mercury dives after them, not wanting Ward to break his spine, or gods forbid his skull on the five story drop below them. But at the last moment the man teleports safely to the ground, standing directly behind them as they open their wings and glide to the alleyway.
“Neat trick man.” Mercury turns to look at Ward behind them, sidestepping in case of another attack. It was only when they turned to look did they notice that Ward’s mask was missing, they must’ve knocked it loose with their blow and it could’ve come off in his fall. No matter quite how it happened, Ward was clearly showing his face.
A strangely familiar face, black hair braided, back, one grey and one green eye, slitted like a cat’s. “Theseus-?” The word escapes from Mercury’s lips before they fully process it- before they had realized what they were even seeing.
“What?” Ward’s voice is still garbled, the voice changer around his throat still, he feels for his mask, just now realizing it was gone. He takes a step back away from Mercury, panic showing clearly on his face.
“How- how are you here?” The words feel strange in Mercury’s mouth as they speak, “Theseus- no you’re dead.”
Ward- no Theseus, his brother, clutches at his head and doubles over as if in pain. “Stop calling me that!” He seethes. “I don’t know who you think I am, but I’m not them.”
“Theseus, please, it’s Icarus. Your brother- you know me- I don’t know how you’re here but please-”
“I don’t know you!” Ward yells, lunging at Icarus, hitting them upside the head and knocking them to the ground. Another bash to their leg and they stare up at him, half dazed on the concrete. “They lie, they lie, they lie. ” Ward is mumbling to himself as he pulls at his hair, half crouched on the ground.
“ Theseus please. I’m not lying to you.” Icarus rasps, with shaky hands they pull their own mask off, letting it fall to the concrete. “It’s me. You’re my brother.”
Theseus’s head tilts up, and Icarus can see his eyes peering through his fingers spread over his face. He stares, first at the mask on the ground, then to Icarus’s face. “Icarus-?” he whispers, his voice barely audible.
Relief floods through their veins at that, “yeah, it’s me Theseus. Come on- I can help you, we can go to the guild. They can get you out of whatever mess you’re in.”
Then as quickly as his demeanor changed, it flipped back. And he scrambles backwards grabbing his lost mask from where it had fallen on the ground of the alleyway. In a fluid single movement he pulls the mask back over his face. “No.” His voice is cold, so different from the almost gentle way he had whispered his brother’s name. “This isn’t real, they all lie. You’re a liar. I’m not whoever you think I am. And you’re definitely not my brother, I have no brother. Especially not one who would stoop so low as to work for the guild.” He spits, the words full of vitriol and hatred.
“Theseus- Ward- please, we can work this out-” their words are cut off by a strong kick to their gut, and then another to their skull, causing their ears to ring, and vision to blur. Faintly they hear a zwoop in the distance.
When they regain enough of their senses to look around the alleway again, he’s gone.
- — -
I can't remember the sound of your laugh or the tone of your voice.
- — -
“Mercury!” Athena calls, having finally spotted them from the roof, and he quickly clambors down the closest fire escape. Icarus doesn’t move, laying half splayed out on the ground. Their mask is gone, sitting loose a few inches away from them, one of their eyes is in the early process of bruising, dark red and swollen. Blood streaks from their nose, and their eyes are half open, one with an old scar running under it, staring up at the night sky above.
“Icarus-” Athena shakes them, and slowly, thankfully, their eyes shift focus and finally land on her. “Oh thank gods,” he gasps in relief. “What happened? Can you move?”
“Where's Ward-?” Their voice croaks out.
“I don’t know, I got the thing from the Reaper and he just appeared and grabbed him and the two of them disappeared. Probably back to wherever base they have.”
“No, no he was right here- it was him Athena.”
“Who? Ward?”
Icarus sits up shaking their head, grimacing as they do. “Yes. No. I don’t know.” They look at Athena, their eyes still clouded and dazed. “Athena, I think Ward is Theseus”
“Sherb-” He starts, using their nickname. Theseus was dead. Had been dead for five years, though she didn’t quite know the specifics. “That’s not possible.”
“I saw his face, Athena! Don’t tell me what is and isn’t possible here! It was him.”
“Mercury.” Athena says more sternly. “Your brother is dead. You just got the snot kicked out of you in a fight with someone who can be classified as one of your nemeses. You probably have a concussion, it's probably your brain telling you what you wanted to see-”
“Don’t you dare tell me that I hallucinated this Athena!” Icarus shouts, tears welling in their eyes and gesturing wildly at them. “You think I wanted this? For there to be this idea in my mind that he’s still out there without me- that he’s a villain?”
Athena swallows, trying to parse together the right words for this before answering honestly. “No. But we found his body, Icarus, he’s gone.”
The tears trek down Icarus’s face. “I know- I know-” they bend over, head in their hands, “I could have sworn it was him though.”
“I’m sorry.” She wraps them in a hug. “I’m so sorry Icarus.”
- — -
I can't remember your face, not even your name but I know you were there.
- — -
It wouldn’t stop raining. That was all Icarus could think as they ran down the city blocks. It felt like the entire world was on fire and it wouldn’t stop raining. Their shoes had long soaked in, and wet ash covered their pants. The air smelled of smoke despite the pouring rain, filling their nostrils and choking their lungs. At first glance it looked like their eye was bleeding, a gash ran underneath it, deep enough for bits of white bone to show through the dripping red. Blood was splattered onto their civilian clothes, wet with rain and spreading like cheap dye along their yellow hoodie.
The city seemed to be crumbling down around them, flames dancing and jumping from building to building. Entire buildings and skyscrapers were destroyed. Water ran in streams and rivulets down the streets, doing nothing to quench the ever-burning fires.
Finally Icarus found the road, stumbling down the sidewalk to the place where their apartment building once stood. The building, nothing but a pile of rubble, smoke and fire still smouldering in the chipped bricks and broken concrete. “Theseus!” They shout, scrabbling over the ruins, their voice hoarse from smoke and screaming. “Theseus!?”
The older woman that they faintly recognize as a neighbour is moving through the rubble as well, her hands shaking as she combs through the concrete. Ash and dust and mud wet from the rain coat their hands as they dig through the spot that at one point held their brother’s bedroom. Papers flutter in the gusts of wind, soaked in rainwater and blood.
Icarus sinks to their knees, he couldn’t be gone- he couldn’t .
- — -
I know that I lost something, I just can't remember what it was.
- — -
Athena stood at the back of the auditorium, watching the people fill in. Reporters, and journalists all filled the large room. Every once in a while one would glance over at him and get a starstruck expression on their face, seeing that the actual Mars was in the same room as them. And Athena would smile back and give them a little wave before they were swallowed back with the constant line of movement and people circulating.
They were fully dressed up in their Mars outfit, as were the rest of the heroes scattered around the auditorium. Most people chose something flashy as their hero outfit, all bright colours and logos, in opposite Athena’s was something a civilian might wear on a normal day. Black overalls over a cream sweater, with small pink patterns sewn into it. The only thing that really set them apart from a young person you would see on the street was their mask, a half-mask covering from their hairline down, yet still leaving their mouth and chin exposed. It was bisected down the middle with one half being a pale pink and the other a simple white. A crown-esque shape was cut into the top, ringing around their head all gold with pink and black gems.
If you really looked at them, past the frame of someone young- he couldn’t be much older than twenty maybe. And if one got close enough perhaps you would be able to pick out the tiny details in their suit, how there were dozens of tiny pockets in their overalls each holding some different device, or how the white side of her mask had the look of as if it was shattered, a hundred tiny lines criss crossing it like a bolt of pale grey lightning.
But most people- civilians never got the chance to look that close, and the villains that he ended up fighting never cared enough or were far too preoccupied to notice the little details.
She glanced across the room, Galahad was there, standing just off to the side of the small stage, easily visible in his warm reds, yellows and pale browns. On the other side of the auditorium Icarus was leaning against the wall, their newly mended wings splayed out behind them. Supposedly most of the heroes were here tonight, either speaking or just simply to help with security, but she couldn’t spot most of them, other than maybe a moment or two of Strawberri’s red hair before she was absorbed back into the crowd.
They catch Will’s eyes as he walks up to the dais in the center of the stage. He looks back at them, giving the smallest of nods and they nod back, a smile tugging at the edge of her lips. Will looked nice, he thought, a vest over a crisp white shirt and a dark blue tie. His mask, shaped in a vague image of a cat, was new, or newly mended perhaps, far too white to wholly be the beat up thing that Athena had seen him in a few weeks prior.
He took a deep breath, and around the room the undercurrent of chatter died down as everyone reached to find their seats.
Will- Neptune, she supposes she should refer to him as in such a setting- clears his throat and flips a page on the dais in front of him. “Greetings everyone.” He speaks, his tone strange and so formal to how he usually speaks as himself, but a usual for Neptune, a usual for the shoes he has to fill. “On behalf of the Heroes Guild, I thank you all for being here today. I know it is not usual for such a Press Conference to be held, but we have decided that such an announcement be made, and this is the best and fastest way to do so.” He pauses, looking back down at the notes on his dias, “There has been an incident in recent months that causes us at the Guild to believe that one of the villains in our city is more dangerous than we originally believed. Of course all villains are dangerous and should be perceived as such, but most are easy enough to stop or at least curb their destruction with the help of our heroes. We believe that the Villian Enderian is an immediate threat to public safety, and we ask-”
Athena’s focus is cut off as someone next to them taps them on the shoulder. A man, wearing a dark red shirt and a press badge gestures for her to follow him. After a moment’s hesitation they follow after him, weaving around the few other people standing at the back of the auditorium. They catch the door out to the lobby just as it nearly shuts behind the reporter.
The lobby is quiet- it's strange because the auditorium seemed quiet as well, the near quiet sounds of hundreds of people unnoticeable until they were gone. Athena takes a deep breath as the lobby door swings back shut behind them, and turns to the reporter.
“Oh thank the gods,” the man says, “I was half worried you wouldn’t’ve followed me, but then I was like, ‘oh that’s Mars, he always does what's right, he’ll follow me here’ and you did! And now I’m talking to you, out here-” his ramble tapers off.
“Do you need something?” Athena asks, trying to figure out why he would pull them out of the press conference.
“He doesn’t.” A voice says from behind them. She whirls around to see The Violet Reaper standing behind her. He leans on his reaver almost casually, like they were old friends just having a talk. “Lim, you can leave him now, we have no need for it anymore.” He says with a wave to the reporter next to Athena, and without a word the man crumples bonelessly to the ground.
“What-? What did you do to him?” Athena lunges toward the Reaper, but in a smooth gesture he swipes the reaver up until it rests just under their neck.
“Now- I wouldn’t try anything if I were you. You stand right there and listen to what I have to say. Really you should be thanking me, I’m saving your life right now,” he speaks.
Athena freezes, staring up at the taller man, “i-is he dead? Did you kill him?” he asks, making a loose gesture to the reporter.
The Reaper chuckles, “of course not, I’m not wasteful. I simply needed him for a moment, and now that time has passed. He’ll live through this if we do.”
“What are-” their words are cut off by the reaver being brought closer to their skin.
“Listen.” The masked man growls, “in about twenty seconds, your little friend Neptune’s press conference will be cut short. The entire building will explode, your chances of surviving it goes up drastically if you are not in that room. So I simply ask you to not ruin that, by trying to be a hero and rush in there.”
“You’re exploding the building?- For what reason?”
“We need something. And this is the best way to get it.”
“And why don’t you want me to get hurt in this?”
“Because, despite what the others say about you Mars, I don’t think you deserve to get dragged into all of this. I think you’re better than that.”
“Please- let me help them, let me do my job-”
The Reaper looks at them, and somehow she can tell that he’s looking them in her eyes despite his mask. “Athena- you deserve to live.”
Then the whole building shakes, and an explosion knocks them back.
- — -
Maybe we were friends. Maybe enemies. Maybe a little more than strangers.
- — -
Icarus leans against the wall, trying their best to look like they’re paying attention to the words that Will was saying, despite already knowing his speech word for word and having helped write it. Their eyes drift around the room, scanning over the menagerie of different people. Most were reporters- or photographers, or maybe journalists. There must’ve been as many cameras filming and flashing away with photos as there were people in the room.
Icarus was glad they weren’t the one speaking up there in Will’s position. They themself had done their fair share of press conferences, though they were mostly small things, talking to a group of reporters directly after a foiled plots, overturned bank heist, freeing hostages. They weren’t sure if anything of this magnitude had been pulled together since- well since Neptune died.
The original Neptune- Alerion, the person who Will took his hero name from, in homage to his mentor, his parent.
Icarus barely remembered that assembly, their mind too blurred with the events that came beforehand. They remember the bright colouring of their newly crafted suit, the strange feel of previously unworn clothing. They remember their father had held himself, talking to the mass of people in the room, the clicks of shutters and flashes of cameras.
They remembered the clamouring once Jupiter had stopped speaking, and the strong hand of his on their shoulder, leading them safely off of the stage.
They shook their head, dropping that day from their mind. They needed to stay in the present, not whatever past, unhelpful memories their brain kept tugging up.
They scan the room again, watching as Neptune continues his speech. Athena must have moved from their spot near the door, they note, his earlier position being left vacant. They fidget with their wings, the new weight on their back unfamiliar but not unwanted.
They weren’t even paying attention when the stage exploded.
—
Icarus wakes up on the floor, a layer of dust and rubble covering every surface in sight. Half the ceiling has collapsed in over the stage leaving streaks of dying sunlight to shine through the dust choked air. They take stock of themself, of what is hurt or injured, mostly bruises it feels like, and their lungs ache from the debris in the air. They pull up the loose collar of their suit to cover the lower half of their face, obscuring it entirely and filtering bits of the worst of the dust.
They pull themself off of the floor, and glance around, trying to see just how bad everything is. The auditorium seems strangely still, except for the faint sound of footsteps crunching in the rubble. The hero turns around to the noise to see a figure in teal and black walking down the stage’s stairs toward them.
Ward, Great, just another thing they needed to add to this mess. “Fancy seeing you here, Ward!” they call out, trying to work their voice around the dryness caught in their throat. They take a step back without meaning to, subconsciously trying to get as much space between them and the villain as possible. Not that it mattered, not with Ward’s powers allowing him to close that gap in an instant.
Any other attempt of joking around to make light of the situation dies in their throat, as they realize the full extent of what was going on. They were alone in a ruined building that should be full of heroes but was terrifyingly empty of any help for them at the moment. And they were staring down one of the most dangerous villains in the city who also happened to kick their face in less than a month ago with horrifying efficiency.
Ward pulls out two force fields from the void around his hands, giving himself a weapon to work with. Despite themself Icarus takes another step back. Their mind yells at them, begging them to think of something, to have some great giant ‘ah-ha’ moment where they realize exactly how to use their powers to get out of here and save the day. But it doesn’t come. There is no fizzle and click in their brain to amazingly put all the puzzle pieces together.
So they do the only thing they can, stooping to the ground and pulling up a longish bit of debris, maybe what used to be the arm of a chair. Focusing they shift the material of the object to steel, giving them some semblance of a weapon at least. “Quixis, don’t mess me up now,” they whisper under their breath before sprinting at the villain in front of them.
Ward easily blocks their first attack with a forearm, and suddenly disappears, reappearing behind them, kicking their legs out from under them. Icarus spins around and surprisingly enough lands a hit on his hip, hitting his armour with a satisfying crunch . Ward retaliates by a knee to their chin, sending them sprawling backwards and they knock their head against the remains of a chair behind them.
Icarus clambors back up to their feet and dives recklessly at Ward, somehow managing to knock the villain backwards and onto the rubble piled floor. Seeing this as the tiny shard of hope for them, they start wailing on the man without care, simply trying to incapacitate him before anyone else gets hurt or killed. This villian- someone who wears a face so similar to their own brother, who has done so many things under Enderian- who was the cause of this entire situation.
Icarus hits the force field that Ward has protected himself with again and again, watching as tiny, satisfying cracks start to appear on its surface. Then it’s gone, and it's like a switch was flipped with Ward, he teleports up again, back behind Icarus. And creates a large field around them, a shimmering, semi-translucent bubble. What the hell was he doing-?
“-ercury!” The shout comes through the force field, half muffled. Without thinking they turn to see Strawberri across the aisle, with Will slumped next to them. His suit covered in ash and blood, but his eyes open and lucid, staring at the bubble. Strawberri summons a surge of plants toward them. The vines clawing against the force field, unable to find purchase. Ward, his focus still not moving from Icarus, snaps and the vines touching the bubble begin to burn and char.
They watch, as Will lifts a bloody arm up to them, and the last thing they hear is the shattering of ice and glass before the scent of a potion hits their nose and makes everything go dark.
- — -
Maybe we played together once or twice, one or two forevers ago.
- — -
It’s cold, that's the first thing Icarus notices as they come back to their senses. It’s cold and they hurt , it seems like every inch of their skin must be bruised with the ache. They try to move but are immediately cut off by binds around their wrists and ankles. Great, they’ve been kidnapped by people who care enough to use the gods damned ankle binds . A great day for heroes everywhere.
It’s dark, their eyes struggle to focus and adjust to the near pitch darkness around them. Their mask is still on at least, a small mercy. They try for a surge of power, to change something- anything around them. To turn their binds to fucking cotton candy for voids sake. Anything to get them out of here as fast as possible.
Nothing happens.
They try again, focusing more on the tiny threads of stuff around them, trying to nudge them, knock them hard enough that their existence shifts. Nothing happens. It was only then that they noticed the thick metal cuff on their upper arm. There had been talk among the guild about power suppressors, things that could weaken or even shut off someone’s abilities entirely. Icarus had seen a few different prototypes, creations by a gang they had helped to take down. A cuff worn on the arm or leg that supposedly did just that.
No. no. no. no. They couldn’t have lost their powers, sure Quixis could be a little bitch sometimes, and sure they couldn’t always control whatever happened but it was still theirs. Their powers were still part of them- had been part of them for as long as they could remember. To have them not work felt like having an appendage removed, like someone had cut off their hand. A strangled sound claws its way out of their throat.
They try to remember the last thing that happened, the press conference, everyone talking- Ward .
The explosion. The fight. And now here.
Icarus wracked their brain trying to figure out whatever the hells they possessed that they would want. That Enderian would want.
A light flicks on from the other side of a door in front of them, a thin sliver of light slicing through the crack under the door. Shadows move in front of the light, and muffled speech finds its way through, though mostly indecipherable by the time it reaches Icarus’s ears.
Finally the door swings open, the sheet of light that fills the room bright enough to cause them to squint. A switch is flipped on, filling the room with bright incandescent lighting, Icarus nearly burrows their head into their chest in an attempt to hide from the bright lighting.
Just as they do though, their head is pulled up from behind, a hand gripping their hair tightly, forcing them to face forward at the person in front of them.
Enderian. Her familiar black mask covering her face in a downward diagonal, leaving one of her green, catlike eyes visible. “Well look what the cat dragged in.” She murmurs, looking Icarus up and down. “The great hero Mercury themself.”
“Enderian.” They respond curtly. “Not that I don’t love our chats- or should I say me talking at you while beating you over with a stick, and you simply ignoring me. But can we cut to the chase here? Look, I got an appointment later that I really need to get to, and I’d love it if you could do the whole blowing up buildings and kidnapping thing later? Great, thanks.”
They try to not let the fear seep into their voice as the reality of the situation really sinks in for them. They’re alone, injured, without powers or any way of calling for help in close quarters with one of the most well known villains in the city- oh and did they mention that she has mind powers?? Yeah she has mind powers.
“I see your insolence proceeds you, Mercury. Very well. We can do this the easy way or the hard way.” Her eyes turns cold. “Where is Jupiter?”
“I mean hopefully in the sky still, right? Cause I mean if we lost a whole entire planet that’s gotta be a problem right? Like have you-” Their half joking rambling gets cut off by Enderian roughly grabbing their chin and forcing them to look at her.
“Mercury. I am going to assume that despite all odds, you are not stupid. So let me give you another chance at this. Where is the hero Jupiter? Where is Fable?”
Oh. That’s what she wanted.
“You and everyone else would also like to know. Look, I know as much about that mess as you do. Don’t you think it would’ve been nice if he left a note or something before dropping off the face of the planet? He didn’t. I have no idea where he is.”
Enderian’s face draws into a thin line, she stares at Icarus for a long beat. “So, I see we are doing this the hard way. I was hoping we could be civil about this, but I see you are not mature enough for this sort of conversation. I will have to find this information myself then.” She moves and undoes the strap around Icarus’s mask, letting it fall away revealing their face.
No, gods please no.
She tilts her head to the side as she inspects their face. “You really must be his child, you look just like him.” Icarus’s blood runs cold as she reaches forward, her fingertips just brushing their forehead.
At first it feels like nothing, a small prodding at their brain, at the very edges of their thoughts. Then it's more forceful, a stab here, a shove there. Icarus tries not to cry out in pain as at one point it feels like their mind has been cleaved in two by an axe.
Then she was in. The small barriers they had tried to put up were no use.
It hurt to have her in their head like that. It burned like her hands were covered in acid and each memory of theirs that she touched was now being eaten away, leaving a path of pain and corrosion in her wake.
Finally, they scream, as their brain is burned from the inside out.
“My, my. It’s messy in here.” Enderian tuts. “You should really figure out how to clean up your messes, little hero.”
“Wasn’t- expecting to have company.” They grit out, tears running down their face from sheer pain.
“Well,” another shock of pain, “You certainly could make this easier for me, just simply point me in the direction I need to go, and I will be out of your hair so much faster.”
Icarus can feel blood as it begins to run from their nose, dripping over their lips and down their chin. They can taste the salty, metallic flavour with each time they breathe. “Find it yourself.”
“You truly are so stupid aren't you Mercury? Or I guess I should call you Icarus?” She chuckles holding up a memory, “Stupid heroes never learn.” She crushes the memory in her hands and then everything is gone.
- — -
My mind is rotting the more that it grows.
- — -
“Icarus.” Their father speaks their name bringing them back to focus. “Icarus, you must focus. You will never learn to control your abilities without focus and practice!” He scolds.
“It feels like I won’t ever learn how to control them, Quixis hates me too much.”
Fable sighs, holding his temples. “Why must you call it that? Your powers are a part of you. They are as much you as the hair on your head.”
“Sure doesn’t feel like part of me.” Icarus mutters.
“It is simply because you do not have control over them yet. You must focus, and perhaps one day you will fully control them.” He holds out a hand to pick them up off of the padded mats they sit on.
Icarus takes it and allows themself to get hauled to their feet.
“We begin again.” Fable states, his voice growing flat.
The fight is over in a few moves, their father easily avoiding each attack and flickery change they attempt to throw at him. It takes less than a moment for the hero to slam Icarus back onto the ground, knocking the air out of them despite the padding.
“Again.” He says, pulling them back to their shaky feet.
“Dad, we’ve been going for like 6 hours. Can we call it a day?”
“Icarus. You are my child, my son . If you wish to become a hero you must gain control over your powers and yourself. What would the public think if they saw the child of Jupiter who couldn’t hold their own? That would give a shining black eye of the Guild as a whole. You will not get anywhere without practice.
“Dad-”
He scowls at them. “We begin again.”
- — -
My memories return to me like fighter jets from the war, full of holes.
- — -
It's dark again when Icarus is aware of the world around them. Tiny slits of light shine on the ground from some source behind them. They stare at the bits of light, half dazed as they try to remind themself where they are.
Oh right. They played chicken with Enderian and apparently lost- definitely lost, they note, noticing the tracks of dried blood down their chin that dripped down their suit and splattered the ground around them. As well as the discarded Mercury mask off to the side, its front covered in spatters of blood.
Lovely.
Their mind feels a jumbled mess, though they aren’t entirely sure if it's due to Enderian’s meddling around in their memories or their general disorientation at their predicament. They sift through their thoughts, re-orienting toppled memories, and wiping down the shelves. For a moment they try to think of what might be missing in their brain, what of anything Enderian might’ve or could’ve broken or removed from their mind before realizing what an impossible task that really was.
The door in front of them clicks open, jolting Icarus out of their own thoughts. Thankfully it wasn’t Enderian again, coming through the door, unfortunately it was Ward. His mask still on his face, though he wasn’t wearing his usual gear, instead wearing almost casual wear, with a hoodie pulled over his head, covering his hair.
“Ward.” They greet, and immediately regret it as all they can taste in their mouth is blood.
“Mercury.” Ward nods, his voice sounding different.
“So what, Enderian sent you to finish me off or something? Couldn’t even do it herself?” Icarus jokes, hoping deeply that it was a joke- that somehow Enderian might need them alive so they wouldn’t die here, cold and alone, to the hands of this person who reminds them so deeply of their brother.
“No.” He says, dropping a bag off to the side of Icarus’s chair and starts messing with the restraint over their right wrist. “Our lady has decided that she needs more time with you. And requested that you don’t starve under our care.” He frees one of their arms and rummages around in the bag before pulling out a bottle of water and a sandwich, wrapped in plastic wrap and placing them on their lap.
Icarus eyes the food warily. “And I’m supposed to assume that’s not poisoned?”
Ward gives a dry chuckle. “If we wanted you dead we could’ve done it much easier than that, Mercury. Cen– Reaper could’ve taken you out easily about a dozen times since you got here, not to mention poisoning you would be a waste of resources.”
It was the most words that they’d ever heard Ward speak at once, and it was only then did they realize why his voice sounded so strange, it didn’t have the usual level of distortion under it, for whatever reason he wasn’t wearing his voice changer.
He even sounded like Theseus.
They stared at the food in their lap, a sudden knot in their throat.
“It’s chicken.” Ward says.
Begrudgingly Icarus opens the water bottle and takes a sip. The cool liquid washes the bloody taste from their mouth, and they greedily chug more. Once the bottle is about half gone they stop to breathe, and carefully unwrap the sandwich. It’s basic, but tastes delightful despite being just chicken and bread. Once it’s gone they look up to see Ward silently watching them.
“Thank you.” They didn’t know why they were thanking him, it wasn’t like they were friends, if anything in this situation they were complete enemies.
Ward collects the trash and rebinds their wrists, he looks like he’s about to leave before he turns. “Your brother-” he starts. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
The knot builds in Icarus’s throat again, “it was a while ago, back when Neptune died.” They say in a way of explanation, though they weren’t sure why they were explaining anything to Ward, they didn’t owe him anything, especially not considering he was the reason they were in this mess.
“Ah, many were lost then.” Was all Ward says before closing the door and leaving Icarus back in the dark once again.
- — -
But the more that I repair the spots that are damaged the more I neglect to reinforce the spots that were hit.
- — -
It's a bright spring day, Icarus loosely holds their brother’s hand as they make their way to the park. Mostly just to keep the kid from running off into the busy traffic that whirrs all around them.
“When I grow up, I wanna have powers just like you!” Theseus chirps next to Icarus as the two walk. “I’m gonna be able to do anything! And fight bad guys like dad!”
“Mhm-” Icarus mumbles, not even quite paying attention.
“Or! Maybe I’ll get powers like Athena! An’ then I’ll be able to break stuff super coolly and then I’ll just be able to beat up bad guys in one hit and then they’ll all go ‘oh no! I’ve been hurted!’ and then they all run away!”
“Why do you even want powers, Theseus?” They finally ask, the pair stopping at a crosswalk. Icarus watches as the red numbers blink on the indicator across from them, counting down the time until they can cross.
He frowns, “Cause powers are super dupery cool? An’ all of the hero people who save the city have powers! An’ Mama had powers, an’ dad has powers, an’ you have powers, an’ ‘Thena has powers.”
“Powers aren’t all that cool, Theseus.” Icarus explains, watching as a car slows to allow them to cross the street. “It takes a lot of work, and there are so many other cool things to do other than being a hero.”
“But, you’re a hero!”
“Yeah, but I’m just in training.” They sigh, just a small exhale, barely noticeable in the bustle of the city all around them. “And even then, it isn’t what it’s all cracked up to be.”
- — -
That took down the memories that never returned at all.
- — -
Icarus is awoken by the door opening again and light pouring into the room. They didn’t remember passing out, but they remembered Enderian walking through their mind again, searching for any speck of information on Fable that she could find in their mind.
Every bone and muscle of their body aches, they peer up at the door to see Ward again, a bag slung over his shoulder.
“Long time no see.” They cough out, clots of blood dislodging themselves from their throat.
Ward is quiet, undoing the binding to free their arm and dropping a sandwich and water into their lap.
“No talking this time?” They ask, trying to find any speck of emotion through his mask.
The villain says nothing and simply watches them, having stepped back to the side of the room.
Icarus looks back to the food and takes a bite of the sandwich, trying to ignore the taste of blood that lingers with every bite. The water isn’t much better, though they take a couple swishes and spit it out off to the side, the liquid now tinged a pinkish-red hue.
Somehow the bottle tips from their hands, it's across the room, the liquid from it splashed across the floor.
“Shit-” they hear Ward hiss. He was right in front of them, how did he get there? He must have teleported, Icarus decides, even though they didn’t hear the telltale zwoop that accompanies Ward’s teleports. He’s holding Icarus’s face, and despite his mask, they can feel the piercing gaze of his eyes into theirs.
They shake their head, and Ward’s hand falls, the man taking a few steps back from them. “What the hell was that about?” They cough out, “you don’t strike me as the touchy type, Ward.”
“You zoned out or something, I was making sure you were okay.”
“They send you here to be my doctor?” Icarus jokes stiffly.
“No, but it's in our lady’s best interest that you don’t die.” He corrects.
“Great, that's just what I wanted to hear.” The next few moments are in silence as Icarus clears the blood out of their throat and mouth.
After a minute or two he breaks the silence, “what was he like?”
Icarus furrows their brow, trying to figure out what he was asking, “what do you mean?”
“Your brother, the one who died, what was he like?”
“Oh.”
They couldn’t remember the last time they had talked about Rae, truly talked about him. It seemed like their little brother was always in their thoughts, more so in the past months, but other than that discussion in the alley with Athena, Sherbert could count on their fingers the amount of times that they had said Theseus’s name in the past years.
“He was smart-” they finally start, “really smart. He breezed through science and history and all those sorts of classes in school.” Once they started it felt like an unstoppable rush of words, all dammed up from years of silence. “He would be able to throw around facts and information like it was nothing. One time he had this project for his class and he covered the walls of his room in sticky notes to keep the facts and timeline straight in his head.” They chuckle a bit at the memory.
“Did you care about him?” The question is strange, and Ward’s inflection as he says it is flat, like a robot nearly.
“Of course- he was my brother. We fought from time to time but he was family. I don’t know if it was possible for me not to care about him.”
Ward nods before quietly handing them a damp cloth, “you have blood on your face.” He explains.
They wipe the dried and fresh blood off from where it had caked onto their face, slowly staining the white cloth pink.
“Look- it's in your best interest to just let her find whatever you’re hiding. We all don’t want this to go on longer than it needs to.” Ward says, packing away the rest of his stuff.
“If I actually give her anything is there any reason for you to still keep me alive?” Icarus asks, bitterness seeping into their words.
“It’s not healthy for you to keep pushing your mind like this, Mercury. If you continue like this, you might not get any choice in the matter.” The door closes behind him with a small click, as the latch catches once more.
- — -
There is an undeniable knowledge that I lost something and I will never get to know exactly what it was that I have lost.
- — -
Ward stared at the wall of his room. He tried to sift through his thoughts, trying to figure out what was real and fake in his mind.
The hero- Mercury- must have some power, one they hadn’t known about before. That seemed to be the only explanation for these strange flashes of memory and feelings he kept having.
It had started when he lost his mask in that fight, when they had called him that name. That name that felt so wrong in their head but sounded so correct on their tongue, so right for them to call him.
So they covered it up with truths, Mercury lost their brother during the fight of the fall of Neptune. Their brother who they seemingly cared for, who seemed to have some visual resemblance to him, leading to the confusion when they had seen Ward for those few, terrifying moments without his mask. It probably didn’t help that both of them had been in the heat of the moment, both halfway through beating the other up on the concrete of that alley.
Still, it felt so wrong, every moment they had been near Mercury since they were here- it felt wrong to continue the ruthless way he had been trained to act on the battlefield. Not when Mercury was now so clearly a person, not some faceless anonymous hero that they were before, or a conglomeration like The Guild is.
And the longer they were here, the more that Ward worried about them turning out like the last person that Enderian interrogated. Whatever they were hiding it couldn’t really be worth their life to them. Could it? Worth their mind? Their sanity?
All to protect some hero that had abandoned them all?
All to protect some Guild that did nothing but take and take until there was nothing left?
None of it made sense.
Just as his thoughts began to spiral deeper a knock at his door shook him out. “Yeah?” He calls to whoever is on the other side.
“It’s me. Can I come in?” A familiar voice says.
He sighs with a small bit of relief, “yeah come in.”
Centross pushes the door open, his Reaper cloak still on, the fabric still grimy with blood and dust from whatever mission he must’ve just come from. “Are you okay?” he asks, the words feeling like they’ve come out of nowhere.
“What do you mean?” Ward questions, “You just got back from a mission covered in blood and you’re asking me that?”
Centross pulls off the bloody layers of his suit and drops the fabric on the floor before sitting at the desk across from him, “of course I’m asking you if you’re fucking okay Ward! You’ve been acting so weird since the whole Mercury thing and you barely talk to me anymore. You just spend all of your free time here staring at your walls! I’m fucking worried about you man!”
“Look- it’s just that my mind’s been all messed up recently. Something Mercury said fucked with me and I can’t get myself to stop thinking about it.”
“What did that fuck of a hero say? What lies are they planting?” His voice is low and threatening, and Ward knows the man is all but ready to go and give the hero down the hall a piece of his mind.
“I don’t know! It doesn’t make sense, but in some strange twisted way it does! The night when I fought them in the alley and I lost my mask right? They saw my face and called me a name- something other than Ward and it feels so horribly familiar and I can’t stop thinking about it!”
“What-?” Centross’s voice softens out of confusion, “What did they call you? Did Mercury know you before?”
Tears prick at the corners of Ward’s eyes, “that’s the thing- I can’t remember what they called me! They said something, I know that, but I don’t even remember what the name was! I don’t know why.” He gasps for air, trying to get words out faster than he can breathe, “But when I talked to Mercury- they thought I was their brother.”
Centross’s face is still and quiet, listening as he explains.
“Apparently Mercury had a brother- who was a teenager during Neptune’s fall, and he died then. And somehow I look like him, or enough like him that they mistook me for him.”
“So what are you saying? You think that you before was some hero’s kid? You think that Mercury is your brother?”
It takes until Centross says it- really says it, that Ward realizes that yes, that was what he really was saying. The small parts of his brain sliding into place. He thought he was Mercury’s brother.
Oh.
“It feels insane- and I don’t even know if that’s what I’m really saying- I don’t even know what’s real here.” His voice feels so quiet and insignificant, “they’ve started having seizures.”
Centross reaches out and grabs Ward’s hand, giving him some grounding gesture to hold on to. “Seizures? Are you sure?”
“Twice now, they’ve just been completely gone while I was there. Probably more when no one is. She’s killing them.”
“We don’t know that, Ward-”
“You want to just say what happened last time was an accident?! You want to act like it didn’t happen?! Because it fucking happened Centross! I hate it, and you hate it, but it happened! ”
“Enderian was doing what was necessary.”
“She killed a civilian.”
“Who had a lead!”
“Does it matter?!”
“It does! We are working toward a goal here Ward! So what if a few must die for the good of the many?! And no matter what your brain thinks their relation to you is- Icarus is still a hero! They still did all of those things for the Guild. We need the information that they have.”
“But why do they have to die for it?” Ward whispers, his voice barely loud enough to be heard.
- — -
It is a cruel burden.
- — -
Athena walks up the stairs to his apartment, each step feeling like autopilot. There’s music playing in her headphones, but they don’t register the sound, it's all nothing but static. Their hands fumble with their keyring, yet still somehow slotting the correct key into the door and quietly pushing it open.
The apartment is dark, they expected it to be as it was nearly 4 am. She slides her backpack off and sets it on the table by the door and pulls their headphones off, the music barely audible and still playing as they drop it next to his backpack. He pads across the hall and into the kitchen, the streetlights from outside casting pale wisps of light through the window.
He pours himself a glass of water, and makes himself a sandwich that they know they won’t eat, but makes anyway. The plate makes a small noise as they place it on the coffee table of the living room, alerting the small, void coloured, puddle of a cat that lounged half asleep on the couch. Cheshire lifts his head up with a small “ mrrp?”
“Hey Cheshire.” Athena says softly, sitting on the couch next to him, careful not to interfere with his spot. The TV is on, as it often is, Jamie’s small way of telling Athena that she wasn’t home alone. A nature documentary plays on screen, the narrator quietly narrating about volcanoes and birds. Despite themself, they flip through the channels settling on a news channel going through the morning news.
“This morning now marks the 6 day manhunt for the Villain Enderian after the explosion last Friday.” The woman rambles on the screen. “This has been only one of the latest attacks on the city by Enderian, claiming the lives of 16 journalists and injuring 50, as well as what has been called a kidnapping of one of the top heroes, Mercury. Very few leads have been made on this case and Mercury’s whereabouts are still unknown.”
Useless . The tiny voice in the back of Athena’s mind chastises her as she watches as the camera pans over the still rubble of the destroyed building, yellow caution tape still visible and flapping in the wind around the site. You’ve been looking for days and found nothing? Useless. He shakes his head and moves to take a sip of water, trying to push the thoughts out of their head.
“-asks that if you have any information on the situation, to please call the hotline at the bottom of your screen as soon as possible.” The anchorwoman says, before the channel flips to commercials, advertising the newest fast food meals and fashion trends.
Without them really noticing, a small crystalline tear drips off of their chin and landing on the blanket below them. What if they’re dead? The voice calls in the back of their mind, not for the first time. What if they’re dead, and you weren’t there to help?
What if you could have stopped it?
Another tear rolls off of their face, then another, as they near silently cry at the notion. The idea that somehow- it was their fault. They could have done something, they could have tried to dissolve the reaver from Reaper’s grasp, freeing their throat. They could have sensed the trap and not fallen for it. They could have stood by Sherbert in the crowd, teasing them over their newly fixed wings.
They could have been there.
They could have been in the room, fighting tooth and nail to help. But they weren’t. Because dumb, stupid Athena had to fall for the fucking trap, had to be lured out of the room. The worst part was that they barely remembered the explosion. All they could remember was the feeling of being pulled out of the rubble by first responders.
“‘Thena?” Half startled, he glances toward the sound. Jamie stands in the doorway of the living room, still in his pyjamas, his hair mussed from sleep. “Are you okay?”
Athena can’t find the words, the words to reassure their boyfriend that everything was alright, that they were alright. To reassure him that it was perfectly fine to be crying on the couch at 4 am. So they just sit there, trying to wipe the crystalized tear tracks off of their cheeks.
“Oh-” Jamie crosses the room and sits next to her on the couch. Enveloping their smaller form in a warm bear hug, Athena melts into it, soaking up the warmth from their partner. “Do you want to talk?” he asks them, and she can feel the rumble of his voice as they speak.
“What if it was my fault-?” They whisper into his chest, her voice wavering.
“Athena, how could you ever think that?”
They pull back out of the hug, “I wasn’t there! I could have been there, I could have stopped it!”
“You don’t know that.”
“What if we never find them- or what if we do but it’s too late? I- I cannot lose them, Jamie. I really can’t.”
“You won’t lose them ‘Thena, We won’t lose them. We’ll figure something out. There’ll be some lead, there has to be.”
“I hope so.” Athena leans back against their partner, feeling the gentle rise and fall of his chest as they breathe. The TV flickers across from them, the news having moved on to other stories, the weather, the traffic, something other than the fact of their missing friend.
“You should get some sleep.” Jamie mumbles into their hair, “you’ve been awake a while.”
They feel exhausted, down to their bones. So, so, exhausted. “Okay,” she whispers back, moving to turn off the TV, the room darkening without its flickering light. Jamie grabs his hands and pulls him off of the couch, leading them down the hall to their room. Behind them, they can hear the faintest of footsteps as Cheshire pads after them.
The bedroom the two of them share is dim, shafts of light from the streetlamps outside stream through the window across from the bed, pattering the ceiling above in lines of softened yellow lighting. He curls up on the bed, not bothering to take off his civilian clothes that he still wears. Jamie pulls a blanket over them and lays next to him, an arm comfortingly over her. Cheshire slots himself into the small valley in between their bodies.
She stares up at the ceiling and listens to the faintest sounds of traffic on the street outside. Jamie fades off to sleep next to them, his breathing rumbling with every exhale in a calming familiar way. The minutes on the alarm clock on their nightstand change, again and again, and finally they drift off to sleep in the warm arms of their partner.
- — -
Maybe it was good,
- — -
Icarus gasps as Enderian removes herself from their mind. “I know you know something, little hero.” She admonishes, her voice hard and resentful. “Even if it’s not directly, I know it's in there, even if it's hidden away from you. I’m going to find it.”
Any words, or somewhat witty comeback that Icarus would have thrown back at her days ago is gone. All they can do is slump over limply in their chair, the restraints the only thing keeping them from entirely falling over.
She’s going to kill you . The thought swirled around in their head, somehow filtering through the mess of memories in their brain.
They heard footsteps, the way her shoes clicked against the floor, leaving them alone in the room again. Pain wracked their skull, burrowing deep between their eyes. Icarus cried out as it spread through their mind like a fire burning them from the inside out before finally leaving them blissfully quiet and gone.
—
They blink, suddenly very aware that they were lying on the ground, so strangely different to the chair they have been stuck to for so long. Someone is touching their wrist, their hand warm against their cold skin. “It’s slowing down.” A voice says.
A small sigh of relief, a different voice, “good.”
“What do you want to do?”
“I don’t know, Centross, you were the one who got me. Do you suddenly care if they die or not now?”
The hand pulls away, “Yes. No. Look, I don’t know-”
“Because you seemed to not give a shit last time we talked.”
“Well you care!” The scuffle of footsteps. “And I know that it would fucking destroy you again, so sorry for trying to have that not happen.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah- still begs the question of what we do from here. What do you want me to do, Ward?”
“Can we get them out? If She finds out-”
“She won’t.”
A deep breath. “Okay. How do we do this then?”
- — -
Maybe it was bad,
- — -
Ward doesn’t seem to breathe until they step out of the loading dock door. Icarus barely does either, their entire mind focused on each step they take, trying not to very obviously lean onto Ward’s form next to them. Their vision blurs at the edges, fading in and out from black. They can feel as warm blood runs down their arm underneath the rain jacket that Ward had given them. Getting the power suppressor had been a bit more difficult than they had hoped.
It’s raining outside, sheets of water cascading in patterns across the pavement. Ward leads the two of them off of the loading dock and down the street. The second the building is out of sight he wraps an arm around Icarus’s torso. “Hold on tight.” He says quietly, before the world dissolves around them.
The space around them moves, while seemingly Icarus stays still. Even so it feels like an inversion on a roller coaster. Despite their every effort, they collapse into Ward’s grip.
“Shit- sorry, but there's a few more of those until we’ll be far enough away.”
“-t’s fine.” They grit out, the words feeling strange in their mouth.
The majority of the rest of the journey is lost to them as Ward sends them through a collection of teleports, supposedly getting them further and further away from their original location. Finally they stop and Icarus struggles to center themself in their body, to stop the world from moving around them.
“Sit.” Ward says, their voice sounding distant and distorted. Icarus complies, letting themself fall into the bench under them.
“Where ‘re we?”
“By the docks, you should be okay here.” He glances around somewhat nervously before taking his mask off and fitting it over Icarus’s face. Fabric still obscures the lower half of his face, leaving his eyes exposed. Blood covers his face, originating in the space that used to be the strange sickly green eye. It appears to be gone, leaving streaks of half dried blood to pour down his cheek.
“Your eye-” They start. What had happened? Did he get into a fight?
“It’s fine.” Ward sternly brushes their worry off. “Look, you didn’t see me tonight. I don’t care whatever you tell them, you didn’t see me.”
“But-”
“No.” He looks into their eyes. “They already want to kill me. Nothing you say will stop that. Not even if I’m your brother. I need you to promise me you won’t say anything. Promise.”
They look at his face, so terrifyingly familiar and hurt. “I promise.” They choke out.
He pulls back, “good. Thank you.” Glancing around he steps further back. “I have to go, you need to find your own way from here, Mercury.”
“Icarus,” they find the word coming out of their mouth, “my name is Icarus.”
Maybe Ward said something too, but if he did the sound of pounding rain and crashing water blotted it out. Leaving them alone on the bench, trying to figure out where to go from here.
- — -
Maybe it was insignificant, but it was yours!
- — -
The workshop was a mess, fabrics, various leathers, and metals covered nearly every square inch of tablespace. The only somewhat clear spot of counter space was the area in front of the monitor and even that had an assortment of plastic takeouts piled in the corners of the desk.
Ocie leaned back in her chair and halfheartedly surveyed the room, trying to decide if any of the current mess was going to be cleaned up in some way or if that was going to be Future-Ocie’s problem. A glance at the clock reads 2:17 am. So yeah, definitely Future-Ocie’s problem.
A ping goes off on her computer, pulling her attention away from the mess on her hands. She rolls her chair closer and wakes up the screen. The alert in the corner of the screen lets her know that someone is at the door. She sighs, wondering who it could possibly be at two in the morning. Another ping goes off, letting her know that the door opened, and she lets out a small exhale in relief. It must just be Chaos then, letting themself back in after a late night snack run or something similar.
She swivels her chair back around and kicks it across the room, careful to not roll over any bits of loose fabric on the floor. Getting to the door she gets up from the chair and peers out into the hallway. Strangely enough Chaos’s door is still open and she can hear their music as it leaks out into the hall. Ocie wanders down the hall and peers into Chaos’s room, to find them leaned over their desk entranced in their work and nodding along to the beat of the music.
If Chaos was already here, then who let themself in?
Cautiously, Ocie turns to the elevator, pulling the knife from her pocket. In theory it was probably someone from the guild, up late and wanting to make use of their time or the workspace, but even so most people would have asked or even sent a quick message letting Ocie or Chaos know that they were on their way.
She crosses the space between Chaos’s door and the elevator in a dozen fluid steps. Watching it the whole time, the display above letting her know just how close the elevator was to their level. It stops, pausing for that brief moment before sliding the door open.
Inside, slumped on the floor was a body. It was wearing mostly black, a dark rain jacket with the hood slipping from soaking wet hair. Grasped in one hand was a dark, featureless mask, the front covered in a spatter of crimson, matching the streaks that followed the figure down the walls of the elevator. The face was uncovered, a mess of damp hair hanging in front of their eyes, yet even so there was a deeply familiar scar running down their face below one eye.
“Holy shit, Icarus-” dropping the small penknife in her hand, Ocie rushes to the elevator, slamming on the button to keep the door open. “Please be alive.” She whispers to herself, feeling for their carotid pulse. Their skin is cool and damp under her fingers, but she barely catches a pulse as it thrums through their neck.
The body startles under her touch, Icarus’s eyes flicker open to look up at her. Ocie doesn’t miss the brief flash of fear that glazes over their eyes before disappearing again. “Hey Ocie.” They give a halfhearted grin. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pass out in your elevator.”
“How- how are you here? What happened?”
“Enderian.” They say by way of explanation, “It’s okay though, I think I still have all of my brain cells. Or at least the important ones.”
“Give me a second, I’ll call the Guild. They need to know you’re alive.” She fumbles for the phone in her pocket, before quickly sending a code yellow to the Guild, and asking for medical help as soon as possible.
“Take all the time you need, Ocie. I’m not going anywhere.” Icarus mumbles, their head lolling back on the elevator wall.
A text comes back from Will, letting her know they were on their way. Ocie sighs in a bit of relief. “They’re coming, Sherb, just gotta wait a second.”
Pain crosses their face, and the walls around the pair flicker, the colour rapidly changing in a familiar way aligning with Mercury’s powers. The hand grasped around Ocie’s wrist clamps down tighter, into a near death grip. “Shit- Ocie, I’m sorry.” Icarus whispers before their grip loosens and they go limp on the floor.
“Icarus? Sherb, wake up. Please- help is coming. Sherbert, wake up.” Ocie pleads, gently shaking their body.
The flickering of their powers stop, leaving Ocie with the very still body of the hero Mercury.
- — -
And no, you can never have it back.
- — -
The ceiling above them is a bland off-white. The type you only see in offices or hospitals. They weren’t sure how long they had been staring at it, looking, but seeing nothing. Noise filtered in and out around them, the sounds they knew were words came at them in a jumbled mess, audible but indecipherable.
They ran their fingers over the sheet covering them, smoothing it again and again in a soothing way, trying to ground themself to wherever they were. The air around them smelled sharp and antiseptic, mixing with the scent of blood clinging to their nostrils. Distantly, they are aware as light is shone into their eyes, the muffled talking closer than before.
Then they were alone again. Something beeps close to their head, a constant, rhythmic beeping. Keeping time with the beating of their heart in their chest that they are now so painfully aware of. Maybe they cry, they can’t tell. Maybe they don’t feel anything, and just lay there, a husk of themself until darkness pulls them back under again.
—
Icarus opens their eyes, blinking back the blurriness. They were in a room, late evening light shines through a window along the wall, leaving slats of amber light along the floor. It smells of nitrile gloves and antiseptic. Hospital, their brain supplies somewhat helpfully.
A figure shifts in their chair across the room, a book sitting on the table next to them. “Seven?” Icarus croaks out, hating how tired and hoarse their voice feels.
The person turns at the sound of their voice. He’s tall with plates of dark gunmetal covering parts of his skin, down his neck and along the outside of his arms. Their hair is a nearly greyed out silver and pale grey eyes. “Sherbert, hey-” Seven moves across the room toward them, “you’re safe, you’re in the hospital. Will’s right outside.”
“Will’s here?” Icarus turns to try and see out the half ajar door, only able to catch movement on the other side. “What- what happened?” They try to pull apart the last things they remember- the rain, the mask, someone else had helped them. How did they get here? It all becomes too fuzzy.
“You got to the Kings’, Ocie found you and called for help. We don’t really know how you got there. Though I doubt it was a coincidence that it happened the same night as Enderian’s arrest.”
“Arrest?”
“We got an anonymous tip a bit after Ocie found you. An entire warehouse, cleared out, and Enderian was injured enough it was easy to get her into custody.”
“Was there anyone else there?”
“Some dead bodies, the one living person that was found managed to get away from Athena. Everyone’s okay though. We also found your mask in the basement.”
Icarus takes a sharp breath- the room, the chair, their mask long discarded on the floor, still smudged with blood when they left. How did they leave? Someone helped, someone must have helped- but all they can remember is the mask, the mask that the stranger had worn in their memories. The mask that they themself had worn in the rain on their way to the Kings.
“Icarus,” Seven’s voice softens, “What happened?”
“I- I don’t know, Seven.” Their voice wavers, “I can’t tell what’s real or what’s fake in my mind anymore. It’s all such a big mess- I don’t know what happened. I know I was there, I was there and someone helped me get out but I can’t remember their face, I don’t know who it was. I can’t even remember what She wanted.”
“It’s okay,” He wraps them in a stiff but familiar hug. “It’s okay Sherb, we'll figure it out. I’m here, you’re safe.”
- — -
I think I lost myself too, one or two forevers ago but even if I did- I can't remember who he was.
- — -
Icarus stares at the reflection in the mirror. Dark hair, pale golden eyes, and a scar, running from under one of their eyes to nearly their jaw, still raised and jagged despite its age, bisecting their face in two parts. It had been two months since their last encounter with Enderian, since they had gotten out, since she was arrested. Even still, some days they could barely recognize themself in the mirror. Having to remind themself that that was them. That they had a face, a name.
That they were more than the stranger in the mirror looking back at them.
They pull back from the mirror, from their reflection and leave the bathroom. The clock next to their bed reads eleven forty five. Icarus pulls a sweater on, and grabs their bag before heading out from their apartment. The streets outside are bustling as usual, and the air feels crisp. They move downtown, letting the movement of the fall foot traffic flow around them.
Icarus is just turning the corner, when someone runs into them. For a brief second, as the man pulls away from them, they catch his face. Long black hair tied back in a bun, and two distinctly grey eyes. “Theseus-?” The words slip out of their mouth before they can stop it. There was no way it was him, it couldn’t be him.
The stranger- their brother steps back away from them, a look of recognition flashing over his face, before he dissolves back into the crowd of people around them. Icarus looks around, trying to catch another glimpse of familiar hair in the crowd, to no use. Then, their phone vibrates.
[Unknown Number]: Sorry. Starbarks, corner of 5th and 24th, 3 o’clock?
Icarus: who is this?
Icarus: Theseus?
There is no reply. Icarus looks around again, just hoping to find something to explain this.
Fine. They check their watch, they had just over three hours. It wasn’t their first time chasing ghosts after all.
—
Starbarks was a quaint sort of coffee shop located at just the edge of the chaos of the main thoroughfares of the city. Icarus had never actually been a patron there themself, but had passed it every once in a while on their patrol loops. A bell chimed as they opened the door, causing the person behind the counter to glance up and flash them a friendly smile as they entered. They smiled back, trying to push down the nerves building in their chest.
“What can I get for you?” The barista asks as they approach the register, he’s tall with dark skin and striking amber eyes, coils of hair are tied back in some sort of mix between a braid, ponytail, and bun.
“Um-” They glance at the menu, trying to figure out what they actually would want here, “Iced Chai?” They say, ordering the first familiar thing they see out of the sea of different coffee types.
“Iced Chai, alright,” He smiles, “That’ll be out in a second, feel free to take a seat anywhere.”
They nod and pick a booth near the back, where they are still able to see the door and counter as they sit. The cafe is not very busy, only a few patrons dot the tables in front of them. Icarus takes a deep breath and checks the time again, 2:57. They were still technically early.
They had just gotten their drink, when the door chimed again. A man with long dark hair entered, and caught their eye before moving to their table. “H-hi?” He mumbles, “is it okay if I sit here?”
“Of course, take a seat.” Icarus tries their best to stop their voice from wavering with the words. He is so terrifyingly familiar, Ward, Theseus, both at the same time. His eye, the one that had been so blood covered and missing, was seemingly repaired, giving him two greyed out eyes as opposed to the catlike green one that Ward had earlier.
“I- I’m going to be honest, I don’t really know what to say. Or how to say it. But, I’m sorry about Enderian, are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” Icarus says almost bitterly, “I’m fine, is your eye okay?”
“It’s fixed, or as fixed as it’s going to be.” He says a bit vaguely, he stares off into nothing for a moment before taking a breath, “look, I honestly didn’t think I was going to see you again. It’s a big city, and the chances of us being in the same place at the same time like that- well it was small, but not zero I guess. And everything with my memory has been, strange to say the least. I still don’t remember everything from before, and I don’t know if I ever will.”
Icarus deflates a bit at that.
“But I know I was your brother,” he continues, looking down at the table, “or some version of me was, at some point. And I know I don’t know how to be your brother- I don’t know how to be anyone’s brother. But- I’d like to try, to have some semblance of a family? I don’t know, the way you talked when I was Ward, it felt like you really missed him, and I know I am not the same, but if you’d have me-”
“Yes, of course- yes.” Icarus interrupts, “Theseus, I don’t care who you were, you still are my brother. No matter what.”
Some of the tension drops from his shoulders. “Thank you,” he whispers.
The two talk, for a long while. Trying to fill the cracks that have been created between their lives. It wasn’t perfect, Icarus had a small feeling that nothing between them ever would be perfect again, or if it was even perfect to begin with. But he was here, and alive. Their brother was someone , not just a lost face in a sea of names that had disappeared around them.
“I- I haven’t actually been calling myself Theseus.” Their brother admits, deep into their conversation.
“Oh?” Icarus asks.
“It just feels a bit strange, like if I did, then I would claim that I was still him. And I’m not.”
“So then what have you been calling yourself? If not Theseus and not Ward?”
“I looked into our family members, and I’ve sort of been calling myself Rae, after our grandfather Raemond. It feels like it fits, maybe better than Theseus did.”
They smile a bit at that, their grandfather was a kind, smart man, not unlike Rae. “It’s a good name,” they admit.
He nods, and the conversation switches topic again, the two brothers talking late into the afternoon. Until the cafe closes and the pair part ways, promising to stay in touch.
Icarus walks back to their apartment, “I have a brother again.” They whisper to themself, “his name is Rae.”