Chapter Text
243 days before the incident
Coming off of patrol was usually a matter of how fast one could go from fully suited to in their bed, however today was not like every other long day of fighting crime in Hermitopia for one particular hero.
Hotguy smiled as he landed quietly in the small back garden of what anyone else would assume was a perfectly normal townhouse, only metres underground this tiny terraced home was a bunker complex that housed some of the city’s most formidable heroes and their close staff.
In the basement of the house, Hotguy navigated to the elevator - the technology always looked out of place in the basement. Living in a bunker had its downsides, but knowing you were safe was the most important thing. His own bedroom, despite not having a window, was spacious with a luxury en suite. Memorabilia from his debut to his most recent line of merchandise was plastered on each wall, a fresh-faced eighteen year old Hotguy in an abomination of a suit stood next to a poster of his thirtieth birthday celebration merch line.
Once his hero suit was hung up and weapons given to the engineer’s department for their usual daily checks, Scar found something comfortable to wear and headed out to the main area of the bunker.
The first person to find him was Tango, member of the hero trio The Boomers, greeting him with an infectious grin.
“Hey, it’s the man of the hour,” Tango announced, “Happy birthday big guy!”
Scar smiled, “Thanks!” He continued walking with Tango down to the main room of the bunker, “How was your patrol today?”
Tango hummed, “Quieter than usual,” he noted, “but still got to road test Impulse’s new device on a load of mobs in this rundown warehouse in the big industrial park by the Sahara depot.”
“Sounds like good fun,” Scar laughed, “I’ve been up the big office skyscrapers at least three times today.”
Tango sighed, “It’s the universe’s way of saying happy birthday.” All of the heroes knew what Scar meant - heroes who could fly were usually delegated with such tasks by the committee, regardless of the emotional toll it could take on those heroes.
Scar just laughed halfheartedly, shaking his head.
“Hey, you’re thirty-two today, right?” Tango asked, swiftly moving the subject along.
Scar nodded, “Yup, and I feel every minute of it.”
“Just you wait until you get to our age,” Tango chuckled, obviously referring to his trio, all three having at least a decade of experience on Scar, “but you’re right, it’s about now that the news starts questioning if you’re too old to be a hero.”
Scar laughed, but he knew the fact that he was approaching the average age of hero retirement wasn’t an exaggeration. In fact, he wasn’t too far off the life expectancy of the average hero.
“Let them. I’m Hotguy, there’s no way I’m stopping anytime soon.” Scar gave Tango his trademark smirk and wink, almost considering also flexing his arms, but deciding that would be a little overkill.
Tango sighed, “Yeah, you’re pretty much in your prime if you ask me,” he smiled genuinely, “make the most of it whilst it lasts, man.” He patted Scar on the back, the residual warmth from the blaze hybrid’s hands feeling comforting.
They arrived in the main room, Tango taking a seat next to Impulse on one of the large couches. Scar scanned the room, taking in the large number of heroes, some in civies and others suited up, radios by their side, on call. Alongside the heroes were the dedicated staff - engineers, scientists, medics and media managers.
And they all started singing happy birthday. Or something that resembled singing.
Scar laughed, being ushered towards the dining table to sit down, as Cub slowly brought a cake through and placed it in front of him. It was in his trademark orange and blue, and looked like a supermarket kid’s birthday cake. Given Scar’s knowledge on the general baking skill of the heroes, he wasn’t surprised or offended.
He blew out the candles, deciding to wish for another successful year of his career. He watched the smoke rise from the extinguished candles.
The click of a shutter brought his attention to Xisuma, who was holding a digital camera, and Scar automatically smiled widely for the camera. Xisuma took another photo, and one whilst Scar was cutting the cake. It was a nice, comparatively quiet celebration. In all honesty, that was all Scar wanted this year, nothing massive and expensive like his thirtieth was.
For now, Scar would spend his birthday with a couple of off-duty heroes and the professionals that surrounded them. At the moment he was talking with Doc, the head of research and development in the Hermitopia Hero sector, and for good reason. Even a few cans of beer deep into the night, Doc was still freakishly intelligent. He’d been a hero for a few decades when he was young, but after an injury rendered him unable to fight, Doc turned to machinery to help better protect new heroes.
Scar found him fascinating, plus there wasn’t usually a moment where so many of the bunker's inhabitants had a large shared block of freetime like this, so the older heroes waxed poetic about their glory days, and Scar talked about his own current experience of his golden era. False started a talk about the new debuting heroes, and those she wanted to take under her literal and metaphorical wings. Predictably, Bdubs talked about Etho, then started nodding off just after the clock hit nine, arguing fiercely that he was just resting his eyes.
It was a good night, a rest they all needed.
So why, after everything had gone so undoubtedly perfect today, was Scar feeling empty? He laid on his king size bed, the best possible mattress supporting any aching joints and the soft red glow of the hallway night lights, eyes flitting between the hundred or so glow-in-the-dark stars that Bdubs had gifted him a while ago. Why did he feel uneasy? What was wrong?
Hotguy had everything. He was the people’s hero, Hermitopia’s golden poster child and upholder of justice. Scar had saved so many lives, inspired people to carry on living, and helped countless people find their spark.
So, through all of that glory, where had his spark gone?