Jakey_K

Sorry an update has been so long in coming, but I'm at my mother's place so I don't have my file to hand. Updates will be up on the 30th

XD You're a bad man!

Class work

23.07, Base Camp, Kings Row

Gaze paced the radio room, staring at the map as she went. On the sofa, Baruk and Dax were resting their feet and Wilkins was on the radio.
"Hasn't Raph called in yet?!" Gaze asked, for the seventh time since the hour struck. Wilkins shook his head. Dax got up and put her hands on Gaze's shoulders.
"Maybe you should have another cup of tea. He'll turn up. I'll bet he just found a pet shop doing a special on catnip," she said, reassuringly. Baruk made some comment about Jakey being special on catnip, which earned him a clip around the ear from Wilkins.
"He's probably just gone to a movie with a special someone. He does that right? Date, I mean …"
"I don't know, I've never asked him," Wilkins mumbled. Baruk looked surprised.
"Really? I heard some rumour that the two of you got married while you were drunk." Wilkins winced, oh to be so questioned at his time of life.
"That was just a joke. J's a scamp," he said. The other man put his hands behind his head breezily.
"Sure."
"Damnit Raph! Call in!" Gaze yelled at the radio suddenly. Everyone looked at it expectantly, but Raphael De Arca clearly did not feel suddenly compelled to call in, and it remained silent. Dax steered Gaze into the kitchen and there came sounds of tea making.
"Why are we thinking this is anything out of the ordinary? Jakey does things on his own sometimes. You know cats are solitary animals usually, is what I've heard." Baruk crossed his ankles and regarded Wilkins. The butler reached up to straighten his tie.
"He's injured, and should be resting. And-"
"Too stupid to do it?" Baruk asked, his eyebrows raising. Wilkins made a kind of huffing sound, as he wouldn't have worded it quite like that.
"Raphael to base, do be a sport and pick up the radio." The butler nearly lunged for the mouth piece, to spare himself any part in slander.
"This is base, did you find him, Raph?"
"Is Gaze there?"
"She's in the kitchen."
"Good, no need for emotional displays from such a delicate flower. I didn't find the scallywag, but I did find something," Raphael said it lightly, but it intoned rather more than Wilkins was comfortable with, so he didn't even question 'delicate flower'. Baruk had a puzzling look, like he was trying to fit the fast-mouthed, tough-talking Gaze with anything floral and delicate and failing.
"Are you headed back then?"
"I shall be with you all shortly. Roll out the red carpet or something."
"Hmmm, we're fresh out."
"At least sweep the floor then." Raphael turned the radio off and Wilkins sat back in his chair heavily. He looked at Baruk, who was still struggling with the concept of floral Gaze.
"What do you think he meant by 'something'?" he asked. Baruk shrugged.
"Something's 'something'. Could be anything."
Dax came back in, eying them both.
"Did Raph call in?" she asked quietly. Wilkins nodded and Dax looked half relieved before she noticed the still sombre atmosphere in the room and frowned.
"He didn't find him? That cat sure knows how to hide."
"I heard that when cats know they're going to die, they sneak off to be by themselves." Baruk said, trying to lighten the tone. Dax and Wilkins both looked at him with various degrees of 'I can't believe you just said that'. Baruk nodded.
"True story." Dax rubbed her temples with her fingertips, sighing deeply.
"I'm going to put a jumper on." Having nothing better to say or do, she went to the locker room and got changed into more comfortable clothes that didn't scream 'superhero' all over the flat.
Gaze came into the radio room with a tray of cups and a teapot. She put this by the radio, settled everything nicely then banged the radio with her fist.
"Get your backside back here, De Arca, before I nuke you a whole new set of powers." The two men eased back into their respective seats a bit more, just in case she felt now was the time to break her Defender's Vow to do no harm to people unless they really deserve it and you're arresting them.
"My dear, your wish is my command." Raphael chose this moment to walk in, though he didn't walk so much as sweep in and it was always a surprise to people that fanfares didn't go off at the same time.
"About time! Where have you been, Raph?!" Gaze demanded. Raphael turned his head to incline to Dax as she passed him, and then waved his elegant hands at them all.
"I'm thoroughly glad you asked me that, Gaze, for my search was quite enlightened, if I do say so myself. Sit down and let's take tea while I regale you with a story of great detective cunning." The others all sat down, already calming down at the sound of his cultured voice. Wilkins took a custard cream from the Heroic Biscuit Tin absentmindedly and nibbled it while he poured the teas and handed them around. Raphael smoothed his hair back with his hands.
"Recently, I've noticed that Jakey has taken to removing posters from public message boards and telephone boxes and so on, compiling a list of currently missing cats. At first, of course, I paid no mind, far be it for me to say that a man cannot take interest in the doings of his fellow countrymen … species … yes. I arrived at the same conclusion that Jakey must have arrived at, in that it's very obvious that something in Perez Park is either stealing or killing these cats, as all the disappearances happened in the vicinity of the blockades surrounding it." Gaze pulled a bit of a face at the mention of 'killing', but remained quiet. Dax dunked a biscuit in her tea as she focused on Raph.
"So with that in mind, I slipped off to Perez, and might I say, I've had a thoroughly fearsome day of trawling through mud and slime and … ugh."
"Did you find him?" asked Dax. Raphael sighed and went outside, coming back a moment later with something in his hand.
"I'm afraid I didn't. All I found was this." He laid the small duster hat on top of the radio equipment solemnly and all five of them stared at it, like it had suddenly acquired all of Raph's charm.
"Are you sure it's his?" Wilkins asked, his voice rough. Raphael nodded.
"Hairs stuck in the band, an empty sandwich bag and this." He held up a little plastic bag between two fingers. It smelled strongly of mint. Catnip. Gaze stood up and picked up the hat, looking at it tightly.
"He's alright though. He's alive."
"My dear, there's no evidence to suggest either way. But we can't ignore the fact that he doesn't know when to back away from a fight and he was badly injured. We may have to accept that-"
"Woman's intuition. He's okay. Look at that, it's dirty." Gaze scraped at some mud on the brim with her nail. Raphael looked piqued and was about to say something when Wilkins interrupted.
"As you said, no evidence either way. And Jakey always said he would die the same way he lived; wearing a cool hat. We should shake up our contacts, see if there's any word through the gangs that Jakey K has been taken down or otherwise." He got to his feet and patted Gaze's shoulder. She nodded, like the two defenders had a secret understanding that no-one else in the room was privy to. Dax felt a bit left out, and glanced at Baruk, but his sudden grin and offer of a hug reminded her that really, she wasn't quite that distressed. After all, Jakey was a robust, raging ball of kicking-things-very-hard, he'd be fine.

22:34, "The Pad", Kings Row

"I can't believe the ref didn't call a foul!" Wilkins said over Gaze's groan as one ice hockey player slammed another into a wall on the television. Jakey was sat between them on the sofa, sprawled over in Gaze's lap so she could silk his ears while he read his 'missing persons' files.
"Can you actually foul in hockey?" Gaze queried thoughtfully, picking up a soft brush and trying to sort out Jakey's eternally scruffy hair.
"Well I assume so. There must be rules," Wilkins picked Jakey's tail out of the bowl of popcorn and tried to keep it out. Jakey turned another page, shifting so he put his feet up on Wilkin's knees.
"Must there? Always with the rules, you humans," he mumbled. Gaze smiled a bit indulgently.
"What have you got there, J?"
"Missing persons files." Jakey turned another page, rolling onto his back so his head was propped up on her knee. He showed her the posters and she ruffled his hair, mussing the tabby markings into a speckled mess of russet and black again.
"Aw, you're standing up for the lost cats of the city? That's so sweet."
Jakey looked at the poster to hide his embarrassment.
"Well someone has to," he said off hand.
"Quite right, quite right. Everyone needs someone to protect them." Wilkins watched the game with a vexed expression and hurrumphed loudly when there was some sort of collision, "How can THAT be allowed?! Well really!"

00:45, "The Pad", Kings Row

Jakey yawned as he lay awake in his bed. He didn't like it, couldn't get comfortable in it after so long sleeping in trees. However, no-one would hear of him returning to Gemini Park to his favourite tree with his leg in cast, so a human bed it was. He hadn't slept in one since the accident. They'd been much bigger then, somehow, filled with the lumps and weight of a sleeping human. He used to sleep over Suzie's feet, her ankles lost in the thick, soft fur of his underbelly and she used to smile when he purred.
Jakey shook the fond memories off even as he threw back the covers and swung his legs out over the bed side. He grabbed his crutch and heaved up, determined to quell this depressing mood with one of Raphael's swanky, too-posh-to-touch bottles of wine. He made it all the way to the door when he stopped, listening. Outside, he could hear voices. Gaze and Wilkins talking to Raphael himself.
"He needs something to occupy his mind. He got into another fight today." Wilkins voice carried even when he was being quiet, it was that deep.
"He did? How can you tell?"
"Oh please, me and Wilkins have been scraping Jakey up after fights so many times, we know what the signs are."
"Hmm, convincing argument. Where do I come in? I assume you have a reason for asking me over to talk after the rascal has limped off to bed?"
"You're the master of minds here, De Arca. Just … convince him not to go looking for fights until he's well?" Gaze sounded frustrated.
"I'm not sure I should, Gaze. The mind is a delicate instrument and Jakey's is … how shall I put this?" The other two must have been waiting for him to continue, as there were a few moments of silence before Raphael spoke again.
"Incongruous."
"How so?" Wilkins asked.
"He has what is essentially a cat's mind in a human body, however, he is self-aware and introspective in a way that animals aren't. This makes his reactions … hard to predict. I could tell you that the card in my hand is the ace of spades-"
"Well it is the ace of spades," murmured Gaze.
"But Jakey would point out that there is no card in my hand at all. It's a cat thing, actually. They are aware, sometimes, of things we cannot see and tend not to be fooled by things we think we can see."
"There isn't a card in your hand?" Wilkins asked hesitantly. Raphael sighed.
"No, Wilkins, there is not. I only asked you to think there was."
"So you can hoodwink us, very clever, but why does this mean you can't convince Jakey to lie down and be a good boy for a few weeks?"
"Because a) I have no idea how an enforced suggestion will work on him, and b) he may shoot me down when we're playing cards but … I don't feel comfortable using my powers on one of my friends." Raphael sounded terse, there were hinted reservations in his tone but he said no more to reveal these tantalising inner thoughts. There were sighs from Gaze and Wilkins, as if both had been bothered by this detail but had willingly put it aside previously.
"Sometimes you have to be cruel do be kind. Resetting a bone means you have to break it again. Raph, I'm not asking this lightly, but can you see any possibility of Jakey not bringing himself serious, life-threatening damage without us knocking him out or strapping him to the bed? I don't want to do either but … he's manic for a fight already and it's only going to get worse the longer he's out of action." Gaze gave it a last ditch effort, so very like her.
Jakey cast his eyes down and hobbled back to his bed, crawling onto the wide mattress and pulling the covers over his frail, striped chest and arms. So this was how it was. He'd become a burden already. Something to whisper about in hallways. Perhaps Gaze and Wilkins thought he would have been upset to think people were discussing his convalescence this way. They were right; he was very upset.

04:17, Hell's Highway, Perez Park

The morning mist was so thick that Jakey could only see ten feet around him in any direction. The heavy drops of water that hung in the air muted the smells of the place, but he could smell unwashed leather, cigarette smoke and the edge of brimstone that meant Hellions were around. However, it was unlikely they would bother with him, they knew well enough his reputation for kicking them clear out of windows. The gloom was so pervading that Jakey felt the impulse to wash his skin, a habit he hadn't shed with the fur and four legs.
It was troubling to him that he was even out here. He'd had no sleep, though he'd tried, and had ended up looking through his file again. It must have been two hours ago that he'd realised that all the cat disappearances had been around Perez Park. Cleo had mentioned Perez. Did she then know something about it? Was this just an elaborate trap to lure him out into the labyrinthine forest to do away with him? He snorted that opinion out into the mist. If Cleo wanted him done away with, she'd just appear behind him and break his neck.
Jakey's crutch banged against something and he looked down, then blinked in surprise, backing up a step. A clockwork Cog was lying on the ground in pieces. Since it was deactivated, well and truly, he stooped down to investigate it. His lips thinned when he put his hand to the rib-cage and traced his fingertips over the twisted rents through the metal. Looked like claws, or maybe a very good katana user. There'd been more speed than strength behind the blows, making him assume it was a single handed weapon rather than the favoured two handed swipe of a sword user, bringing the full turn of hips and shoulders into it. The cat in him disapproved of the claws, as often the heroes who wielded them modelled themselves after felines, with no regard for the true, favoured fighting style of the animals.
He pushed himself standing again and carried on through the gloom, nearly walking straight into a tree trunk. The mist was thicker under the trees, and all sound had been put on hold. The hairs on the back of Jakey's neck stood up. There was, so faint, weighted under the fog, a whiff of embalming fluids. The smell gave him little warning, as a mere second later, a huge shambling bulk passed by on his left, heavy feet making the air ripple as they thudded on the moss. He held his breath, not wanting to draw the Abomination's attention. It in itself did not alarm him, but it might be accompanied by fouler things, and he certainly did not want to tangle with anyone right now. The dim 'wud' sound of the Abomination walking faded, and Jakey breathed out again, settling his crutch and continuing on.
The fog seemed endless, as if time and space had ceased to have any relevance and whatever world he thought he lived in was just an illusion of a fevered mind. Jakey stopped at the edge of the marshes, tired and his leg aching. He tipped his head back for a deep lungful of thick air, and saw the motion in enough time to throw himself backwards. He stumbled, falling clumsily onto his back as a shadow dropped down. Luck alone dictated Jakey's response, he jabbed the end of his crutch into the assailant's stomach and knocked him back into the marsh with a loud splash that echoed off the fog walls. He scrambled to his front and struggled up, half-hopping awkwardly as he tried to escape, only to hear a slosh and an ominous tsshing sound before something carved into his back, ripping easily through the shirt and jacket. He crashed forward, choking back the yelp of pain and forcing himself to roll as he felt the air change behind him, dodging the dropping knee of the man.
"Good! You're very goo-" The man's appreciation was cut off sharply by Jakey's left heel smashing into his throat, knocking him flying back into the still rocking water. He winced and gasped tightly as his back protested further movement, a slick, wet feeling spreading down the skin and sticking the material to it. He tried to drag himself on his arms, but a wave of sick, dizzy nausea overtook him and he coughed violently. Hot bile burned his tongue and he spat it out, gagging over the taste before his head suddenly fizzled with warm prickles and he slumped, utterly unconscious.

17:51, a cave, Perez Park

"There were a few of Positron's mooks kicking around earlier, nothing much else happened though." A voice broke into the dark, quiet refuge of Jakey's rest. His mouth felt like it had been scoured out with a rasp, then overlaid with a thick layer of fluff. Before opening his eyes, he assessed what he could hear and feel. Pressed against his chest was a warm metal surface, his back was exposed to air that was cool and damp. Thick leather bands held his wrists and ankles and neck. Slightly worse, however, was the scratch and tug of a needle and thread being passed through the lips of the wounds, drawing them closed with an unpleasant pull.
"Keep an eye out, I don't want any of those fools finding this network. Interfering busy-bodies." The voice came from just over his back, a muttered hiss more than anything else.
"Sure thing, boss. Think I hit him too hard?" The last part was jocular, and the voice came from three metres to the left.
"A little."
"Why'd you bring him back here anyway? He's a hero."
"He's special," muttered the voice. A cold hand pressed to the small of Jakey's back to hold the wound still while the thread was tied off and snipped. There came the tsshing of metal claws being unsheathed and a low rumble of displeasure. A cat sound, Jakey's heart skipped a beat.
"He doesn't even have claws. He's not one of us, so why do you treat him?"
"You're right, he's not one of you. He's better than you. All of you," the older voice snapped. There came a yowl and the screech of claws on stone that put Jakey's teeth on edge.
"Better?! BETTER?! That midget is not better than me! I'm the strongest and the fastest! I defeated him!"
"Passechen-"
"I DEFEATED HIM!" Steps marched away and a door slammed with enough force to hurt Jakey's ears. There was a sigh from above and something cold and wet was wiped over his back, making his wounds sting fiercely. Jakey bit down on his lower lip without meaning to, giving away his state of consciousness.
"Ah, so you are awake. I thought you might be. Welcome back," the voice said lightly. Jakey, the ruse now over, opened his eyes, seeing what looked to be lab. He strained to look up at his … doctor? Captor?
"Where's my hat?"
"Hat? You weren't wearing one." The man who answered was not very tall, but not incredibly short either. He was wearing green robes with a gold trim and there was an ornate tattoo on his bald forehead that looked almost like a ship's wheel. However, his eyes did not burn with green fire. That omission threw Jakey off, as everything else screamed Circle of Thorns. The man blinked, and looked down at his robes. Then patted Jakey's head condescendingly.
"Later." With that, he turned and left, closing the door behind him and there was a click and a sigh like a bolt being drawn.
Jakey squirmed in the restraints, but didn't have enough room to put enough muscle into making them do more than creak. His tail lashed from side to side in aggravation and he rested his forehead against the metal. He'd been caught by a Circle of Thorns mage. Terrific. And was pathetic enough to be given medical treatment. What was wrong with him? Didn't the Circle of Thorns know to fear him now? Or was he just a joke they told around pulsating crystals at night? His tail smacked either side of the table and he struggled again, right up until the point where his stitched wounds seared a rebuke up his nerves. He hissed quietly to himself, ears back. This was not a good predicament at all.

Bit nervous about posting this, but certain members of the sg have dared me, and this cat doesn't back down from a dare. :\ I need a head-scan, for real. Anyway, it's long, and hopefully, not too boring


12:32, Base Camp, Kings Row

The cup on the table steamed slightly, a curl of pale vapour loitered upwards and dissipated vaguely into the air. Behind dark glasses, a green eye watched it, the pupil narrowing to a vertical slit when the gaze slid past the dark tint.
It was a painfully slow day, the owner of the eye sniffed and picked at the folder under his hand with a nail. Nails. Possibly the most irritating thing that'd ever happened to him. [censored] nails. They were flat, like spades on the ends of long, complex arrangements of bone and tendon. No use in a fight. Not even slightly. Originally, he'd let them grow long, assuming that they'd serve almost as well as his claws once had. The first nail ripped from his finger quickly put a stop to that practice. He remembered the sensation with a twinge of his stomach and sighed, pushing himself upright enough to drink.
Jakey was a hero. That's what it said on his identification. His license, if you will, was to be heroic. He didn't feel awfully heroic today, his leg was still in cast after a run in with sky raiders. He'd told everyone that it'd been his fault, of course, it always got the laughs and grins of "Oh that Jakey, what a card" and "That's our Jakey". No sense blaming anyone else for slipping on a pipe as he'd landed from a jump, after all, if he couldn't land right, then the consequences were of course his fault.
On the table, the radio buzzed and he watched it, hoping that someone was about to ask him to hustle down and join them in a mission.
"Midnight Gaze to base," a voice asked. Jakey unhooked the mouthpiece, eagerness making his striped tail twitch back and forth. He could trust good old Gaze, she'd ask him down to help out.
"Base here, what can I do for you, m'dear?" he responded.
"We've just found a great little teashop. Mark it out on the map will you? It's at the corner of West and St. Francis in Platinum Lake," she said. Jakey held the mouthpiece away so she couldn't hear his heavy sigh of disappointment. He got up and grabbed his crutch, hobbling over to the huge city map that dominated an entire wall of the apartment living room. He picked up a blue drawing pin and stuck it into the place she'd given him, then returned to the radio.
"All done, darling. Say, are you busy right now?" he hoped he sounded casual enough, as though her missions were on par with the weather as topics of conversation went.
"I've just joined some other heroes, one says there's a big deal going on with the Devouring Earth, we're going to put a stop to it."
Jakey's eyes flicked to the window, through which he could only see another wall and part of a fire-escape. His pulse was quickening at the thought of hurtling into battle against the forces of evil.
"Oh really? Well you be careful, or I'll have to run out and save you," he meant it lightly, Gaze could take care of herself, and was frequently the person who scraped him up with a spatula.
"You'll do no such thing, Jakey K. If you come out here with that leg of yours, I'll be the one sending you to hospital."
"What? Even if you're in a heap on the ground?" Jakey asked, one eyebrow raising.
"Especially if I'm in a heap on the ground. I'm a lethal heap." The cat classed that one as too easy to make jokes out of and left it alone. He looked at the file on the table before him, then shrugged.
"I was only joking Gaze, you know I'm never serious," he said, trying to inject as much charm as he could into the words. The grunt on the other end told him it was a wasted effort. Damn that clear mind skill of hers.
"Sure Jakey, sure. Well, we're there, so I best put my head back to work. Be good." She signed off and Jakey slumped in the chair. Be good indeed. When was he ever not good? He got up and hobbled out to the large kitchen and heaved himself up the steps so he could reach the work surface and put the kettle on. The world's cruel joke was that he was actually a cat, but had been cursed with the body of a man (mostly). He was only here in this city because he'd heard that there were many experts on mysticism and the occult here. They'd given him a hero license, convinced his cat-like agility and reflexes would help in the fight against 'Evil' or 'Injustice' or something.
Out the window, Jakey could see one of the billboards on another rooftop. 'Earth for Humans, let's keep it that way'. Jakey looked back at the kettle, as if to hide his upset. He knew several non-humans, it was the way of things in hero work, you met up with people who'd had accidents with their televisions, who'd mutated as a teenager, who'd bonded with energy beings from other worlds … the list was probably endless. Yet there were still people, usually civilians who lived safe lives because these technically non-human heroes were bleeding and hurting and fighting with every fibre of their being, who were species-ist bastards. They'd had no trouble drafting him into service, but his work was to benefit humans.
He took off his hat and peeled off the fake ears, allowing his real ones to twitch in the air. The tail was cute, he'd been told, and nobody minded the stripes on his face and back, but for some reason, the ears were weird. Jakey usually just kept them under his hat and let people think he was quirky. It worked, more or less, and as people, or more specifically, heroes (who tended to be more open-minded about such things anyway), got to know him, they simply accepted him. Despite his gripes with The Man, Jakey reflected that his life was at an alright place really. He had good friends, a home, enough to eat and a job to do. He should be happy.
His attention was recalled when the kettle clicked and he poured water into the mug, watching the teabag tumble about, spilling red brown tendrils in its wake. He carried the tea back into the other room when it was done, sitting down and hooking the earphones over his neck again, listening with half an ear to the cross channel banter of his peers. An emergency call from an unknown hero blurted out that the Babbage had been seen and Jakey ran into a wall of butler before he got out the room.
"Jakey, old boy!" Wilkins' large hand landed on his scruffy hair and held him back a bit, "You shouldn't be up with that leg, you need to rest if it's to get better." Before the cat could object, Wilkins picked him up and plonked him back on the chair.
"I was resting …" Jakey said quietly. Wilkins gave him an amused look, as they both knew he wasn't being very convincing. He sat down and turned the radio down a bit.
"Jakey, you know you aren't going to heal up properly if you don't take it easy. Teleport accidents are rare but-"
"I know, I know. They were never intended for cats. I've heard the explanations already, Will. I even got a letter of apology from the head of Crey Industries." He grinned a bit and waved his hand. Wilkins gave him one of those looks that butlers were famed for.
"I know it's tough for you, old friend, but take your time. How often to we get to relax, huh? And you have an entire month of nothing but relaxation ahead of you. Isn't that fun?"
"I'll go down to the beach and learn to surf!" Jakey declared, throwing up the horns. The butler rubbed his short beard.
"Uh … huh. Sure, why not? Do we have any custard creams?" he went to inspect the Heroic Biscuit Tin and found a shocking lack of said biscuits. This was truly a job for Wilkins, the once royal butler, and he teleported out of the apartment. Jakey sighed and picked up the folder on the table, opening it and reading.
The whoosh of displaced air as Wilkins returned from the corner shop blew a cold chill down Jakey's left ear. He flicked it absently, still engrossed in his reading material. Wilkins put a cup of tea on the table and proudly placed a plate with a doily and a mound of custard creams next to it.
"What are you reading?"
"Hmm? Oh, missing person files," Jakey mumbled, turning a page. Wilkins looked over his shoulder curiously, then frowned.
"Jakey, these are posters for lost pets," he said, regarding 'Wiffle', a five year old tortoiseshell cat who was last seen in Freedom Plaza. Jakey looked up at the tall, older man.
"Your point being?"

13:02, Merchants Passage, Kings Row

His point was that when a cat went missing, it did not matter quite so much as when a person went missing. Wilkins had managed to infer that cats were very independent souls, generally very capable of taking care of themselves, but it still stung a little. Jakey left the apartment to hobble down to the post office with the reports, to put them in their safe deposit box. He couldn't help but wonder how the others saw him. Was he a cat, or was he a 'person'. He shook his head resolutely, to think such a thing of his friends was unworthy of both him and them. They'd come through fire and ice together, fought side by side and proved that species was no barrier to their affections and friendship.
A mew distracted him as he passed by an alleyway, he turned his head and gazed at the small tabby cat who pawed through the spilt rubbish. She must have felt his eyes on her back as she turned her head sharply and glared at him with amber eyes before picking up part of a discarded hamburger and running away. One thing was sure, other cats did not have the time of day for him while he was man-shaped. Well, except for one.
Jakey carried on his slow hobble, wishing he hadn't thought of Cleo, as it never put him in a good frame of mind and shadows became a bit spooky. His sister would no doubt have heard of his accident and probably laughed herself silly about it for a few hours.
He reached the post office after another twenty minutes, a twenty minutes filled with looming shadows that became Cleo and smacked him over the head with grimoires. Well that hadn't happened yet, but Jakey was not one to assume it wouldn't. He reached the post office and hobbled in, people in there looked around, seeing a tiny man in a duster hat, wearing a waistcoat and tie. There were whispers that came so clearly to Jakey's feline ears.
"That's him, Jakey K. He saved me from thugs once!"
"He's so tiny! I've seen him on the box and man, I thought he was at least five foot!"
"Lookit his tail! It's so cute!"
"I heard he's a real cat."
"Give over, he's a midget."
"I heard he was born in Borneo and cursed by a witchdoctor!"
"Well I heard that he was the pet of a rich scientist who died in the same explosion that turned him into a man."
"Think he'll go out with me?"
"You what?!"
Jakey unlocked the safe deposit box and shoved the reports in, having to stand on his good toes to accomplish this, as it was above his head. He wasn't an unfamiliar sight in the city, and always tried to help out if he saw trouble, which was why a woman's magazine had given him the honorary title of "Defender of the Purse". It had been source of much amusement in the super group, not that it bothered Jakey, after all, someone had to knock thug heads together and tell them that the purse didn't suit them.
He locked the box up again and headed out, ignoring further speculations from the citizenry, until a little girl stopped in his path. She was just his height and smiled sheepishly, holding out a homework diary.
"I don't know if you remember, Mr K, but you saved me and my friends from some horrible men a month ago. C-can I get your autograph?" she was going bright red. Jakey blinked, nobody had ever asked for his autograph before. He'd watched enough television to know what one was but it had never occurred to him that people in Paragon City would want his name scrawled on something. He grinned a bit.
"Um, sure. Do you have a pen?"
"Yeah!" she said, thrusting one into his hand. Jakey took the diary and wrote his name on it, trying not to feel like a complete idiot. Fame wasn't what he'd come here for, or become a hero for, but the more people you saved, the more you got recognised. Good for dealing with bad guys, who feared your reputation, but bad for when you wanted to nip into the corner shop for a packet of crisps and a squeaky toy.
"Thanks! And thank you for saving us. You're our favourite hero, Jakey. We wrote to the principal, asking if the school could make a statue of you. My friend, Bernice, did her art project on you! I did mine on a great hero called Captain Cathode!"
Jakey wasn't sure he was ever going to get used to being fodder for pre-adolescent girls' art projects. It wasn't a direction he'd seen his life going in, that was for sure.
"Really? You like Cap then?" he asked, trying to keep the conversation relatively normal.
"Yeah, do you know him?!" the girl asked breathlessly. Jakey nodded.
"Yeah, he's a friend of mine. He always makes sure our telly's working right."
"Wow! That's so cool! I didn't realise how British you sound!" she grinned. Jakey decided that he'd done his heroic PR duty and chatted a bit more before excusing himself with some comment of having to organise a few teams to patrol the streets. It wasn't true, Honourable United always had a habit of organising and disorganising itself as and when it saw fit. He started his long limp back to the cheap apartment that served as their headquarters. There was no particular reason to base in Kings Row, other than with so many other super-groups vying for space, it was just easier to not squabble over a place in Steel Canyon. Besides, he liked the unostentatious decoration on the door; a simple fleur de lis in black and white, the symbol of Honourable United. It had nearly been a lion, but Wilkins had been faster with his paperwork than Jakey, so a fleur de lis it was.
"HELP ME! SOMEONE PLEASE HELP ME!"
Jakey stopped dead, looking upwards from where the scream had come from. There was green smoke billowing from the top of the apartment building to his left and he bared his teeth. The Circle of Thorns were preying on innocent civilians again. Well, they wouldn't for much longer. He hurried to the fire-escape ladder, having to jump up awkwardly and chuck his crutch up the steps and scramble up with a shocking lack of dignity. This was the least of his worries at the moment though, as he rushed up the ladders, sometimes hopping wildly as his immobilised leg hindered his progress. The screams hurt his ears, and he started to be able to hear the mages muttering consolations about how the victim's body was valuable. Just not their soul, thought Jakey bitterly as he chucked his crutch over the lip of the roof and jumped up, grabbing the guttering in his hands. The Circle of Thorns cared only for esoteric ruins, long buried under sea and earth, living like parasites in the bodies of the innocent. Jakey absolutely loathed them. He got his elbows onto the roof and hauled himself up, rolling onto the tarred surface and picking himself up.
"DEATH FROM YOUR KNEECAPS!" he yelled, hopping over and clobbering a mage in the midriff with his crutch. It was only honourable to alert your enemy to impending violence, after all.
"How dare you interfere?" wheezed the mage as he staggered back. Jakey declined to answer. You couldn't explain to a mage why what they were doing was wrong, he'd tried several times, but they just didn't care. All they cared about was power and knowledge. It made him so angry he didn't think before jumping up and kicking the mage's archer around the face with his injured leg.
The pain was excruciating and he went down onto his good knee, bracing himself with his gloved hands. The scene swam in his vision as tears of agony filled his eyes, all he saw was a blur and then a thorn sword slashed down his back, knocking him forward. It stung with arcane, bitter magic and made his tail fluff to twice its size.
"Fool, we will take your body instead," intoned the mage, getting his breath back. Jakey's right leg sent knives twisting up his nervous system and his back burned. He rolled out of the way, getting to his feet slowly. A blast of electricity hit him full in the face and he jolted with the shock. It was like being hit in the chest with a girder and he couldn't breathe for a long, precious second. He dimly saw the blur of the archer lifting his crossbow, then there was a sound like pages turning in a strong wind and both the archer and mage crumpled. It took a while for Jakey to realise that they weren't going to attack again and he sagged, letting his tailed rear end hit the floor slightly too hard. He put his hands on his leg cast and bit his lower lip.
"Really, brother, that was something else entirely," a husky, feminine voice said from the darkness of the shadows. Jakey choked back the whimper.
"I couldn't do nothing," he said faintly. A woman emerged from the shadows, wearing punky clothes, she walked over, her heavy boots wouldn't have looked out of place on a Freak Show.
"The difference between us, Jakey, one of many, is that I don't do stupid things like pick fights with mages with one leg in cast. You really are a fool." She looked down at him, her own tail curling lazily back and forth, the stripes were paler than her brother's. She folded her arms, glaring down at him.
"No, the difference is that I care about people other than myself." Jakey muttered under his breath, wincing as his leg continued to object to the rough treatment. Cleo laughed harshly.
"You waste your time caring about humans." She went quiet for a moment, then crouched down and hooked an arm around the back of his shoulders, then the other under his knees, picking him up, "Come on, hero, let's get you down to street level at the very least." Jakey did not object, he was no match for Cleo in any way, shape or form. She was smarter, faster and more powerful, having bonded with the very same book that had cursed him to life on two legs. Her random shifts between sisterly care and villainous antagonism confused him, so he was content to let her be sisterly for now.
"You know, my offer is still open," she said casually, as she stepped off the roof and floated slowly to the ground to spare him further jolts of his leg. Jakey grimaced, sliding down to the pavement and stabilising himself on his crutch.
"I'm not ready to give up on humankind yet, Cleo. They aren't too bright, but if we don't all work at making a situation better, then we're all to blame for the way things are. I don't want to be a second class life-form forever. Besides, I'm accepted for who I am by my friends. That's a start."
Cleo gave him a hard look, her green eyes seeming to penetrate through his glasses.
"Yet you do not show yourself for how you truly are. You make concessions to them all the time, hide your ears and your eyes. Think about why you do that, Jakey, then tell me about your amazing progress." She was getting that dangerous curl in her tail and Jakey did not answer beyond a small wave.
"Thanks for saving me, Cleo. I guess I'll see you around," he mumbled, turning and hobbling off extra slowly. Cleo made a low yowl noise, then raised her voice again.
"Jakey, the others won't care, but start your search in Perez Park. Go well, and don't be too bloody stupid." Before Jakey could ask her what she meant, there was a sound like fluttering pages and she was gone. He looked at the place she'd been standing and frowned, then turned back to the very long trudge back to base with a lot to think about.

just a bit of catnip roll-up, I'm a good kitty. *innocent*

do more please? I will catch mice for your entertainment or something.

Oh god, the humanity, I can't feel my abdomen anymore.

Oh no ... I can feel it now. It hurts. It hurts like too much laughing in a cramped position can.

Curse you. That was my best abdomen!

Epilogue

The phone rang under a pile of music books and score sheets, Matthew lunged for it from his place on the saggy sofa, but Jakey reached it first, snagging the handset off the hook and darting out of reach of Matthew's flailing hand.
"Hello? … Oh hi Venji!" Jakey grinned when there was a thump of Matthew falling off the sofa, flicking his tail out of reach as well. The cat man nodded a few times, picking up one foot as Matthew tried to grab it.
"Oh he's in the shower, exfoliating or something. I think he's got a date tonight. … … Yeah, some guy he met at the convenience store … MRRAAAOOW!" Jakey dropped the phone when Matthew bit his tail hard. The music teacher caught the handset and put it to his ear.
"Don't listen to him, he's a lying filthy toerag!" he yelled, panic-stricken. A collision of four foot high cat man slammed him off his feet and they hit the sofa, going over in a shower of papers and empty cups. The handset dangled on its cord.
"What are you two on about? Hello? Hello? Are you there?" the tinny voice of Strike came through as it bobbed back and forth. Matthew and Jakey fought wildly, biting ears and pulling shirts and rolling into walls and furniture with such wild abandon that they missed the first knock on the door. After the second they both stopped what they were doing, Matthew's hand in Jakey's face and Jakey with a mouthful of his sleeve.
"Was that the door?"
"Mmrrmm?"
"Get off, you raging flea bag." Matthew boosted Jakey off and hurried out of the living room into the hallway and peeped through the spy hole. He gulped when he saw who it was on the other side, then opened the door.
"A-Adam, hi …" he could hear the thump of the sofa being righted and tried to grin innocently. Adam tipped his hat.
"Hey Matt. Erm … I wanted to ask you something. See, there's this … movie on. Supposed to be pretty good, and Gaze is washing her hair or something tonight and I hate going alone so … would … you come?" he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. Matthew opened his mouth for a minute, then closed it again, then spoke.
"Sure, what movie is it?"
"Phoenix Rising."
"Oh yeah, I heard about that. How long we got?"
"Half an hour."
"Alright, come in and I'll get changed into something less mauled." Matthew waved him in and closed the door. Adam looked surprised at the amount of houseplants and stacks of paper all around, he picked one up and looked at the musical score, completely with annotations, it all looked very complicated.
"Jake's in the living room, being a rascal again." Matthew motioned to one of the doors off the hall, then disappeared through another, closing it softly behind him. Adam peered around the frame.
"Hey J, what are you up to?"
"Tormenting Music with his unrequited love for you. Why?" Jakey was now back on the phone to Strike. Adam's eyebrows raised.
"His what for me?"
"Venji, open your eyes, he's stupidly in love with you. Duh! What? You saw a cat stuck where?" Adam assumed the last part to be directed at the man on the other end of the phone. He looked thoughtful, turning to look when Matthew emerged from his room, wearing jeans and a tee-shirt. Matthew frowned a bit.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"Not a thing, everything's just fine. Everything's … great." Adam smiled, letting Matthew lead them out. He put his arm around the smaller man's shoulders and hugged it tightly, grinning.

"How long's it been?" Lady Rapture asked as Arktos carried another barrow of stone past to tip it in a side tunnel. The quiet cave had become a veritable construction site, filled with heroes wearing the same super group colours. Those who had mastery over stone or gravity were using them to clear the way, while those with great strength picked up shovels and got to work. A group of close combat specialists were leaning on their shovels, drinking hot tea and soup provided by the newer members or those who couldn't get to the digging, resting after their shift.
"Seventeen hours." Arktos tipped his barrow. Strike came over with two mugs of soup.
"They think we're getting closer, apparently someone's probe thingy can see dim heat signatures and Midnight Gaze has a 'feeling'." He handed them their soup and Lady Rapture sipped it delicately.
"Are we close enough for me to be able to teleport them out?"
"Soon, they're just trying to get a fix for you," Strike pulled a thermos out of his belt and started to drink. Arktos rumbled.
"I'm glad there isn't a squabble over who gets to beam them out. It would be most uncivilised."
A few moments later, Midnight Gaze strode over with Jakey K, both were leaders of the super group, and technically in charge here.
"Lady Rapture, we've located them and cleared a space for you to deposit them, could you come with us?" she asked, looking stylish despite the dusty conditions and general aura of concern. Lady Rapture swept to her feet, flashing a smile at Gaze's diminutive companion before nodding. Gaze led her to the cleared space, several of the groups varied healers were hanging by, but with Gaze there, it was unlikely they'd be needed.
Lady Rapture took her position in the limelight and spread her hands out.
"Recalling Music Teacher to our presence," she made a motion like she was grabbing at the air, black purple vapour hissing up from her hands and nothing happened. She huffed in an aggravated way. On the sidelines Raphael De Arca raised an eyebrow.
"Too much rock in the way, maybe?" he looked at Gaze, who frowned and shook her head.
"That stubborn, weakling, craven coward," Lady Rapture managed to keep her teeth together, so it came out as a hiss. She didn't know quite how Music avoided being teleported, but it annoyed her that he did and would and just had. Stuff him then. She took a deep, calming breath and centred both parts her mind, the Nictus wanted to try Music again, he amused it and it wanted to play. Rapture ignored it's request and focused on Midnight Avenger. She yanked with her hand and there was a rush and roar of displaced air and he dropped onto the floor, filthy from head to toe and coughing, his tie was slightly askew and his hat was battered and full of holes.
"Venji!" Jakey grinned and bounced over, hugging the man around the head before Gaze physically prised him off and helped her twin brother to his feet, saying quiet words only for him and guiding him over to get some water and blankets.
Lady Rapture was almost tempted to leave Music there, would teach him to ignore her summons, the ungrateful wretch. The Nictus insisted it wanted to play, so she pouted a little, then spread her arms again, the vapour curled and there was a whoosh and a thump and a squeak as Music Teacher popped out of the air in a cloud of nictus. He looked pale and filthy and smelled of bourbon.
"Muse!" Jakey pounced Music and hugged his head as well. Music hiccupped, and let his flatmate pull him to his feet and guide him over to get hydrated and warmed up. Lady Rapture tossed her hair back.
"You're welcome!"
"You know they probably can't talk from lack of water, right?" Strike appeared at Rapture's side, hands folded behind his head. Rapture pouted in a pristinely gorgeous way.
"That's not the point."
And how it wasn't.

Avenger felt supremely guilty, Music Teacher was a bit caustic sometimes, but his gruff front always disappeared when someone was in pain or hurt, and he was usually so kind and gentle-natured that Avenger hadn't even considered the idea of him having a painful past. He half wished he hadn't brought it up, as it clearly still upset him. How did someone start to cope with the fact they'd killed their own mother? Maybe he really was insensitive and Music Teacher's history was written clearly for anyone else to see. He couldn't quite credit that though. Everyone had their sob stories, their secret shames. You couldn't be super-powered and always have a clear conscience, the power always escaped your control at least once. Least, that's what he thought. A slight moan drew his attention back to the slightly shorter man. Music was shivering and from the sounds of things, was having a bad dream. Avenger hadn't really noticed the cold, then he noticed his breath pluming before him and he pulled a face. He reached over and pulled Music against him, wrapping his jacket as far around him as it would go. When his hands touched the bare skin of Music's arms, he was shocked to find them almost icy, he rubbed at them slightly. Had it really gotten so cold? Night must have fallen.
"No … Oscar … stop …" Music mumbled, his slim body shuddering in Avenger's arms. Avenger wondered who Oscar was, then realised he really was spooning Music, as he'd predicted. It almost made him laugh. Then Music jolted awake, banging his head on Avenger's chin.
"Ah, what?" Music looked down in befuddlement at the arms curled around his own and the purple jacket spread over him. Then of all things, he blushed darkly.
"A-Avenger, what are you doing?"
"You were freezing, thought I should warm you up a little." Avenger managed to keep it light, many people would see innuendo in his position, but he really did mean it innocently and would like it to be received as such.
"Er … th-thanks?" Music lay there quietly, listening to the flow of blood through Avenger's veins, the beat of his heart and the gurgle of his empty stomach. He frowned slightly, straining his ear as he turned his head to press his ear to Avenger's chest.
"What are you doing?"
"Shh, your sound's off." Music closed his eyes to better focus on the minute disruption he could hear, a slightly higher pitch to the blood flow, "You have cholesterol lining some of your piping. Want me to deal with it?"
Avenger opened and closed his mouth, stunned that Music could actually hear that, and that he even had cholesterol. He had a healthy diet, more or less. Most of the time.
"Er … sure." He was further surprised when Music turned over in his arms and undid two of the buttons on his shirt, removed his glove and pressed his palm to his sternum. A feeling of warmth radiated from where the cold hand touched him, melting through his body in waves. It was soothing and relaxing and Avenger half-wished he could purr like Jakey, as that would exactly express how the warmth made him feel.
"There, it'll wash out your body in a few days," Music said, taking his hand away from his chest and pulling the glove back on before doing up the buttons again. Avenger frowned slightly, he'd noticed what looked like scarring on Music's hands, quickly hidden by the gloves. He chose not to ask about it just yet.
"Thanks, what did you do?"
"I vibrated it, breaking it down into safer chemicals that your body can cleanse itself of and dissipated the energy produced. Nothing fancy." Music hadn't rolled over in his arms yet, still facing him. Avenger looked thoughtful.
"That's pretty precise. How sensitive is your hearing anyway?"
"It's not just my hearing, it's my whole body. I'm just … sensitive to sounds, even ones I can't pick up with my ears, they still make a vibration that I can feel."
"Does that mean you can echo-locate?" Avenger thought that would be the coolest thing ever at that precise moment in time.
"I guess so. Haven't had cause to try. I can hear Nictus and Kheldians too." Music said the last bit quietly. Avenger knew of course what he was talking about, heroes encountered the energy-based aliens frequently, usually in a human host body. They were originally the same race, but the Nictus were more aggressive in their tactics, and frequently took the bodies of unwilling hosts, ironically enough, with the same assumption of superiority that humans used against most other life-forms.
"How?"
"They give off a particular frequency, I can't tell the difference between them yet, I just know when someone has one," Music yawned, still a bit tired. Avenger could feel cold air between them and tugged him against his chest, adamant in his desire to keep the other warm and no amount of cholesterol or spot the alien was going to distract him from that. Music squeaked slightly, blushing.
It must have been an hour later, or maybe two, there was no real way to tell.
"Who's Oscar?" Avenger asked finally, the way Music tensed up in his arms indicated that this might be another rocky ground. Somewhat appropriate for the setting.
"No-one." Music muttered.
Another hour passed.
"Who's Oscar?" Avenger asked as if he hadn't asked before.
"He's no-one."
A few more hours passed.
"So, who's Oscar?" Music just buried his face in Avenger's shirt and reached a hand up to show him his middle finger.
"You're not going to shut up until I tell you are you?" his voice was muffled in the shirt. Avenger grinned.
"No."
"Fine. He was my lover." Music hoped that'd be the end of it. Avenger looked thoughtful.
"What did he do to upset you?" He felt Music tense up in his arms, but when he didn't answer he went on, "I know I'm not the most sensitive guy on the block, but people don't usually have nightmares about people unless they've got troubles."
Music groaned.
"I wish you'd just let the rocks crush me, I really do."
"Did he hurt you?" Avenger didn't have much rationale for being protective of Music, other than he was timid about fighting yet still rushed into the fray if one of his friends was in danger. As someone to whom being invulnerable was order of the day, he admired those who would put themselves at risk for someone else, despite the very real danger of them being hurt or killed outright. It was as heroic as could be.
"Could say that," Music's voice was quiet. Avenger looked down at him questioningly.
"What happened?" Music pulled off his gloves in answer and showed Avenger his hands. Old, gnarled burn scars littered the palms, and on the backs were long thin scars like knife wounds.
"Wh-why?" Avenger was appalled, taking one of the hands and looking it over.
"Doesn't matter."
"Of course it matters, the [censored] attacked your hands! That's criminal!" A glittering ran over Avenger's skin as he thought about what he might like to do to someone who could treat a friend of his so callously. Music was a musician, he needed his hands to support his livelihood. To attack them and injure them so badly was craven and cruel to the extreme. He wanted to smash this 'Oscar's face in, see how much he liked it.
Music was worried, the only times he'd seen Avenger this angry was usually before something got smashed up. He put his hands on his chest and closed his eyes. Immediately a wash of warmth curled through Avenger, then followed by an acute, almost spasm, of good feeling. It was like a head rush of pleasure, and Avenger unwound immediately.
"What … the hell was that?" he asked, feeling lazy and good and warm and cheerful. Music scratched his cheek.
"Um … I stimulated the pleasure centre of your brain to release endorphins."
"You can do that? That felt nice," Avenger grinned, feeling silly. He hadn't forgotten 'Oscar', but he would have to wait for his pummelling, right now was too warm and blissful.
"How the hell do you find out how to do all this stuff anyway?" Avenger asked after a while. Music blushed.
"Well … that one I came up with after reading the karma sutra." He really wanted another drink, and reached around Avenger to take his hipflask back.
"Cool. Hey, are you groping me? The cuddling wasn't an invitation." Avenger chuckled merrily and rolled onto his back, putting the hipflask out of Music's reach. Music squeaked, yanking his hand out from underneath him and shaking it ruefully.
"Oh c'mon, just give me my JD back."
"Oh I see how it is, you give me happy zap powers so you can get your hands into my underwear. Low, man, real low," Avenger said, grinning like an idiot. Music scowled, sitting astride him and twisting to the side, trying to peel him off the floor so he could work his hand under.
"It's not in your underwear, don't flatter yourself." Avenger shifted, reaching his own hand under him.
"It is now."
"Don't make me really happy zap you, Avenger, you'll be a giggling mess before five minutes is up and I'll win."
"You can call me Adam." That threw Music, and he paused in his hunt for his hipflask, one hand under the small of his back and the other braced on the sand. He looked at Avenger's grinning face. Heroes did not tell each other their real names if they went by an alias, it was part of the unwritten rules. For the names to be exchanged meant something, that a closeness had been established that went beyond the deep trust of a team.
"M-my name's Matthew …" Even in his wildest fantasies, he'd never envisaged a scenario where Midnight Avenger would tell him his real name.
"I hope they get us out of here soon, I'm busting for the little heroes room," Avenger, Adam, said. Music, Matthew, sighed, feeling like the moment had passed with declarations of desired bodily functions.

"I spy, with my little eye, something beginning with 'R'."
"Rocks."
"Yeap. Your go."
"I spy, with my little eye, something beginning with 'M'."
"Me!"
"That's not the word I'm thinking of."
"Midnight Avenger!"
"Your go," Music Teacher said, his arms wrapped around him tightly. His body was so tense from the cold that now even shivering was painful. As predicted, his abdomen was painful and his bruises were darkening. He wanted to heal himself, but was frightened over what the sound might do to the delicate balance of rocks above them. He watched his breath plume from his mouth. How long had they been like this? Lying on cold sand, smothered by cold rock, entombed in a cold mountain.
"I spy, with my little eye, something beginning with … 'Q'."
"Quartz," Music Teacher's eyes drifted closed, the cold was draining away his energy.
"Nope."
"Quantum gun?" Music doubted he could see one of those, but gave it a try anyway, then he got it and reached over to smack Avenger's shoulder with his hand, causing the other one to laugh.
"Unfeeling *******. Queen?"
"Yeap!" Avenger pretended the hit had hurt, mostly to mollify Music, and rubbed it. Music rested his head on the sand, looking up at the rocks above. Were the others alright? Had the steep curve of the cave protected them from the shockwave?
"So why'd you become a hero anyway?" Avenger asked, breaking the thick silence between them. Music looked at his hands for a moment.
"Because … because I should," he said quietly. Avenger turned his head to look at him.
"You should?"
"I have … a gift, you might say, or a curse. And once upon a time, in a land far, far away, someone died because I didn't have any control over my gift. I was only a little kid, but … they still died, and I was still the one who killed them." Music looked very hard at the stones above. They were going to kill him, not now, but soon, and he'd rather die with a clear conscience now he had the time. Avenger looked surprised, then hesitated before speaking.
"Who did you kill?"
"My mother." Silence settled again, then Avenger drew a quiet breath.
"What happened? Do you even remember it? You were two, three?" He sounded like he wasn't sure he wanted to know, but was asking in case Music wanted to talk about it.
"Seven. And I remember. Can't really forget something like that. God, I need a cigarette and bottle of Jack Daniels." Music reached up and rubbed at his face, scraping his fingers through his beard to clear it of some dust and sand. Avenger was quiet, watching him reach into the back pocket of his utility belt and pull out a slightly dented hipflask. Music unscrewed the cap and took a swig before offering it over. Avenger took it silently and drank some of the bourbon, feeling as in need of it as Music did after that confession.
"My father was a telecommunications expert with the Royal Marines, stationed out in Indonesia. My mother was from New Delhi, and they'd met, fallen in love and married when he'd been stationed there. Anyway, there was an earthquake, and as my mother ran to grab me out of the shaking house, I was so scared I just … screamed. She flew backwards into the wall and broke her neck. Killed her outright." Music's hands shook as he took the flask back and he gulped a few more mouthfuls.
"Jeez … what happened after that?"
"Nothing. Half a building fell on my father so … he never even found out. I was sent back to England and then sent to an orphanage in Scotland. Stayed there until I was sixteen." The sudden alcohol on an empty stomach both warmed him and went straight to his head, loosening his tongue, "S'why I can't use it against people. When I found out I could use it to make people better, I just … had to do it. I didn't want to have a gift that was only good for murder. But sometimes I get scared and I can feel it rising up again and sometimes it just bursts out before I can stop it." Avenger regarded his profile, then reached out to rub a tear from his cheek, it had left a trail of cleanliness in its wake. He felt somewhat responsible for the tear, as he doubted Music would have started talking about it if he hadn't been so curious.
"How'd you end up in Paragon if you lived in Scotland?" Hopefully this would be a less painful subject to talk about. Music shrugged.
"Band I was with came out here looking for fame and fortune. I sort of dropped off the listing for … various reasons. Just drifted here really. After the war, rent was dirt cheap, and there's a surprising number of people who want to be tutored in piano and guitar," he swigged from the flask again. Avenger took it off him, if only because dehydration might be a serious issue soon.
"So what made you take the final step and become a hero?"
"Nothing really. Just watching the news, a hero'd been killed and … I wondered if I would have been able to save him. If using my abilities would have helped him live. The chances are slim to none, but it was enough to get me thinking, that since I'd gone to the effort of teaching myself a bit of medical know-how, nothing fancy, just first aid stuff really, and … what was I talking about?" Music hiccupped a bit, and the smell of bourbon laced the air. Avenger took the cap out of his hand and screwed it on, hiding the hipflask in his own back pocket.
"First aid and heroing."
"Oh, yeah. So I just figured I might as well give it a go. Got on the train to Atlas Park, stood in a queue of must have been twenty other hopefuls, got registered and was whisked off to some basic training."
"Forgive me for saying so, but … you're not particularly adept at fighting. How did you get through basic training?"
"I got a few guys to help me. Apparently the skill to form a team and lead it successfully through a series of tasks is a talent they feel merits the Hero License." Music hiccupped again, now it was the alcohol making him sleepy as well as the cold. Avenger propped his head on one hand.
"Just one more question."
"Shoot."
"Why do you have a hipflask of Jack Daniels in your utility belt?"
"Dutch courage. Got none of my own, after all." Music's voice was trailing off, and it wasn't long before he staggered into a world of dreams.

"Think you can move a bit, I've got pins and needles in my knees," Avenger asked after a long aching silence. Music Teacher considered their options.
"You sure they'll stay up?" He motioned his head to the rocks above.
"Only one way to find out." Avenger shifted and there was an ominous clunk above. Music Teacher whimpered a bit, having nowhere to run to. His heart hammered in his chest, but then Avenger grinned.
"Our survey says yes! Okay, if you scoot that way, we can probably both lie on our sides. Hope you don't mind being spooned." Music Teacher grimaced, doing his best to scoot. Perhaps Avenger meant to be reassuring, seeing the farcical side of their dilemma. Music Teacher wished he could share it, he was rather too aware of the mountain above. He was certain anyone looking at it would see a huge grin on the side of it as it tried to crush unfortunate heroes. With some delicate manoeuvring, in which knees were held as away from tender regions as they could be, the pair of them ended up on their sides. Not spooning, as Avenger had threatened, rather lying with their backs pressed to the rock all around.
"You're filthy, Music." Avenger reached out a thumb to rub at the black dust around Music Teacher's eyes, "want to play noughts and crosses?"
"You what?" Music Teacher gave him an incredulous look. Was it just that Avenger was invulnerable that he managed to not be terrified out of his wits over his prolonged, but very impending doom?
"Well, it'll help pass the time right?" Avenger smiled. Music Teacher sighed deeply, then coughed again. Passing the time to their deaths playing childrens games. Why not indeed? He nodded and Avenger drew the grid in the sand between them. Music Teacher put a circle in the middle.
"You wouldn't be here if you hadn't jumped under a pile of falling rocks. Nutcase," he muttered. Avenger put a cross above the circle.
"Well, all of us would be here if you hadn't yelled the others back down the tunnel. How'd you do that anyway? Never heard you do that before," he kept his tone light, conversational. Music Teacher shrugged.
"I used to do it more when I was just starting out. But it just hurts my throat too much, so I stopped doing it. It takes more oomph to throw someone with the resonance than to injure them," he said quietly, putting a circle on the left of the cross. Avenger moved to put a cross in the bottom right, blocking off the diagonal.
"Oh yeah, you're a natural aren't you?" He regarded Music Teacher thoughtfully while he put a circle in the middle left.
"Guess you could put it that way. I just filled in that box on the registration form because I didn't think I was any of the others. Why, what are you?"
"Oh, I'm a mutant." Avenger frowned at the grid, then grumbled as he realised whatever move he made now, Music Teacher had won.
"What's that like? Being a mutant I mean?"
"What kind of question's that? What's it like being you?" Avenger took his hat off his head and inspected it for damage. He looked cross as his finger found its way through a hole and wiggled at him from the inside. Music Teacher gazed at the game between them.
"Lonely," he said it so quietly it was almost lost in the sound of distant rocks settling and their mutual breathing. Avenger only just heard it, and even when he turned to look at him, it was as if he was wondering if he'd heard correctly.
"Why are you lonely?" he asked. Music Teacher wanted to say that he was in love, and there was nothing he could ever do to get the other's attention, and that he was ugly and a coward and had a hundred other faults so dire that nobody would ever love him. He managed to keep this to himself, just shrugging slightly.
"Relationships don't last," he mumbled. They'd last a bit more if he didn't have such a repugnant personality, sex could only forgive some of his flaws. Avenger patted his shoulder a bit awkwardly.
"Well, maybe you've yet to find the right girl," he tried to sound upbeat on it. He wasn't really the counselling type, Music Teacher would be better off going to his sister about this. He winced internally. The right girl was certainly not about to enter his life, nor was he even looking for her.
"Er … Avenger … I'm not into girls," he said quietly. He didn't know why he'd even said it. Don't ask, don't tell was his favourite way of dealing with it, as it was mostly everyone's favourite way of dealing with it. He wasn't ashamed of it, he just didn't want any unnecessary aggravation.
"Okay, right guy then." To Avenger's eternal credit, he didn't bat an eyelid. Music Teacher was slightly thrown off by it, as customarily people would tentatively ask 'so, you're [censored] then', as if he had other reasons for not being into girls. Like maybe he was an ordained priest, or had lost his balls in a childhood accident, or found only ceiling tiles to be arousing. Perhaps all three were more social acceptable in some circles.
"And you have a flat mate, and all of us, right? You won't be lonely forever, Music. Promise." Avenger grinned, like he really believed it. Music Teacher let his head rest on the sand. He might as well play the game of Hope for a bit, it would help pass the time.

Originally posted on the Honourable United Forum, a little bit of light-hearted relief after a few, emotionally fraught fictions were shared. It's 'cute' apparently

Cave In

The caves stretched on and on, their drab grey stone and cold volcanic sand dragged on everyone's mood so the group who walked through alleviated their boredom with banter. Sometimes it was witty, if they were lucky, otherwise it was mostly just dumb, but nobody minded. It just reminded each other that they weren't alone. The group looked relatively normal, but they were heroes. Not the dictionary sense, these were heroes who could comfortably put 'super' before it and come away smiling. From the mighty strength of one who called himself Arktos, to the alien possessed duality of one who called herself Lady Rapture, the invulnerable skin of Midnight Avenger and the hyper-sensitive eyesight of Strike, they were all great and powerful. At the back of the group, floating several feet off the ground came the one called The Music Teacher. The inaudible cushion of sound he rode on made the sand below displace slightly, like a breath of wind, barely noticeable.
"I can almost understand why someone would want to blow these tunnels up. They're as boring as sin," Strike muttered, pulling off his baseball cap to shake rock dust off it, as if that was going to stop it acquiring more. Lady Rapture, the most diminutive member of the group at a bare five foot, giggled.
"Strike, darling, sin is never boring if it's done right." The inky depths of her eyes sparkled with vapour momentarily, as the energy beast within stirred.
"And she should know, she's sinned with the best of them," said Midnight Avenger - just Avenger to most - affably.
"And the worst, darling." Rapture skipped ahead and vaulted onto Arktos' broad, bearlike shoulders. She perched there and tossed her hair back with the utter confidence of a woman who knows she's devastatingly attractive. At the back, Music Teacher grumbled something.
"What's it take to find a little incendiary device around here?" Strike asked finally, his boots sinking into the soft sand as they clambered up a slope. Music Teacher's bare feet soared past his face and he watched a little enviously as the other man glided over the rise. Flying did not always get the best reputation in hero circles. Perhaps it was envy on the ground-pounder's side, but those that flew, or Fliers, were seen as arrogant. Certainly, a lot of Fliers looked down upon the Sprinters, Zappers and Jumpers with disdain. How lowly they were, running and teleporting and leaping through the city. A Flier had the whole sky to play with.
"Don't go too far ahead, Music, don't want you getting hurt," Avenger called lightly. Music Teacher rolled his eyes.
"I'll scream if I get into trouble," he said. And he would. Nobody had ever called Music Teacher a coward, but they had certainly never called him a titan of courage before either. Unlike most other heroes, Music Teacher's only defence was sound, but he had spent most of his years refining his sonic manipulation ability into encouraging the body to heal. The right frequency of vibration could work miracles on the flesh, he'd learned this years ago, and now used his skills to heal his fellow heroes, even if he had little offensive capacity other than yelling at someone so hard he made their ears bleed.
Away from the never-ending banter, innuendo and gossip of the group, Music Teacher closed his eyes. Previously they'd noticed his mood, though perhaps only Lady Rapture had perceived the cause of it. Perhaps it was because she was a woman, or maybe she was more observant than she came across as. Music Teacher was in love, and he didn't want to be.
His music didn't suffer when he was happy, it just became lighter, more buoyant to suit his mood, but this love was one he felt prohibited from. He tried to force himself to consider the psychological ramifications of his work on a relationship. When he'd been just a tutor for kids wanting to learn music, it'd been easier. He'd had a few relationships, none particularly serious. It had been okay. He'd only felt this besotted once before, and even then, he'd been young and foolish and idealistic. This was a more mature love, and it threatened to devour him.
"Do you see any bombs?" Arktos called after him as they continued to clamber their way up against the flow of black sand. Music Teacher paused in his flight and cocked his head. There was a sound that came to his hyper sensitive ears. He frowned tightly, listening. Up the rise, Arktos' bald head and the top of Avenger's hat came into view as the two men crawled over the top. Once they were up, Arktos immediately turned to hold his hand out to Strike and received the huge, heavy duty gun from the sniper. He handed it to Lady Rapture who fell over under its weight with a squeak. Avenger started to walk over to Music Teacher, dusting off his hands and knees.
A bending sound above, a crack.
Music Teacher's eyes flew open as the vibration through the air touched his skin. He twisted midair and suddenly howled. In the close quarters of the tunnel, the sonic wave multiplied and echoed over itself, creating a wall of pure sound. The sand was thrown up in a cresting wave before it. Avenger's eyes widened and he braced for the impact, throwing his arms up before his face. The sound wave hit him, coloured sparks being thrown off as the energy was forced to part by his invulnerable skin and bone. Behind him, having had no warning, Arktos and Lady Rapture were thrown wildly over the edge. Strike yelled in shock when the wave smashed overhead, throwing the sand he was clinging to into a full downward slide.
Music Teacher felt the small pain of the howl in his throat, opened his eyes and saw Avenger, there wasn't enough time to verbalise a warning, the vibrations from the detonation above were drumming down on his skin, raining promises of a swift crushing death.
Something hit him around the middle and he felt the slam of the ground on his back, then the world was filled with sound that tore through his body, sound too loud for just his ears to cope with. It lasted for an eternity of heavy, crushing cacophony, and then silence thick with the sound of displaced air.
He was still alive. Discomfort proved it. He was also in the foetal position, with weight above and sand below. Dust raked his throat and he choked, spluttering and coughing.
"Guess we got the wrong tunnel," came a voice that was practically in his ear, pushing its way past the ringing. Music Teacher opened his eye, hissing and blinking out the dust, then looked up. Avenger was the weight pressing on him, the rocks held up by his back, a faint glimmering danced between them. Music Teacher coughed when he drew a startled breath. Avenger really was indestructible. Fancy that.
"You okay?"
"For a man buried under half a mountain, sure," Music Teacher let his head rest on the sand, just existing. He had some bruises, and where Avenger hit him was going to flare up into a nest of pain when it stopped being numb, but he was alive. When he'd first heard the groan of stone above, he hadn't expected to see the next thirty seconds of his life. Now, however, here he was. Still breathing. Trapped under megatons of the Heights, trapped under Midnight Avenger until someone dug them out. This was not shaping up to be a brilliant day.

If you take hover, you sacrifice a lot of mobility, and that serves as a scrapper's best weapon. It's all very well for a tank to sit around being heavy in the middle of a fight, they can draw people to them and take the multiple aggro, but if you lack that sheer hp, then mobility is your friend.

Of course, I'm an SR scrapper, so I'm all about movement, XD