Chapter Text
Someone else.
Staying up until nearly midnight and getting up before the crack of dawn probably wasn’t healthy, but sometimes it’s what needed to be done. Sometimes it’s what the job of Lettuce’s second in command required.
Don’t get him wrong, Deputy Ace loves his job. He loves helping others, he loves making Unstable a better place, but he’s always preferred being boots on the ground rather than dealing with bureaucracy.
Lettuce respected this, Ace was very thankful for it. He was sent off on Law missions regularly, was always the one in charge of the team, the one who could insight the most immediate change.
But immediate change wasn’t always what Unstable needed. Sometimes it needed systematic change, which is exactly what Lettuce did. He rallied people, gave them hope, helped them through hardship by offering supports they wouldn’t have been able to get by themselves.
They’d always been that dynamic duo; Lettuce and Ace. Ace and Lettuce. One to see the big picture and one to help better it.
And if that meant Ace barely got five full hours of sleep between raiding the apartment of one of their heroes who turned out to be a traitor and waking up early to prepare for Lettuce’s emergency meeting the next morning, then so be it. He’ll happily put in the hours.
For the betterment of Unstable.
For the world of peace and prosperity Lettuce imagined for everyone.
“Deputy,” Lettuce strode into the stage room, a smile already on his face at seeing the face of his best friend.
“Commissioner,” Ace nodded back with a smile of his own.
“Did you get some good sleep? I tried to get them to wrap everything up as quickly as possible for you to have an early night, but there was a lot of evidence to go through,” Lettuce sighed, shaking his head.
“It’s no worries in the slightest, Lettuce,” Ace shook his head, “I’m sure you didn’t get much more than me.”
“I was unfortunately up all night,” Lettuce turned to his friend. Ace noticed the gaunt, exhausted look only a handful of people were privy to. The way the Commissioner’s eyes sunk, how the faintest tint of purple was visible through the white and red fur under his eyes. What was this, the third all-nighter in a row?
This job had taken years off them both. They both went home and picked gray hairs out, hadn’t remembered the last time they’d gotten a full night’s sleep nor a day they went pain or soreness free.
“But,” Lettuce took a deep breath in, then let it out, “I don’t mind in the slightest.” He plastered a smile on his face. Ace could tell it was fake; an act to make everyone else feel better, an attempt at making the deputy feel better. “Someone needs to do it.”
“And you can’t do it if you keep pushing yourself like this,” Ace argued, “Please, Lettuce.”
“Okay,” His voice sounded almost too small, “Tonight. After the speech. After the execution. Let’s both get a full night’s rest.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
“Now,” Ace walked over, snatching the emerald green robe off the coat hanger. He gently brought it around Lettuce’s shoulders and pinned the clasp. “You have a speech to do. Are you ready?”
“I’m sorry,” Lettuce finally blurted.
“Hm?”
“For last night. I snapped at you and… it wasn’t right. We were both working off fumes, and I should not have taken it out on you.”
“Lettuce?”
“Ace?”
“It’s okay.”
Lettuce took another deep, audible breath.
“You’re the best friend I could have ever asked for,” He lets out a weak chuckle, “I seriously don’t deserve you.”
“Nor I you,” Ace huffed back with an equally pitiful smile.
“And yes,” The caracal shook his head, a movement that translated to his body. The fur not covered by the black Law uniform began to fluff up. He forced another smile onto his face, looking the perfect picture of a future king. “I am ready. This speech could decide the election, after all.”
“You say that as if you have any viable competition,” Ace shook his head, “Basically all the other contestants, save for Clown Pierce, all dropped out by now.”
“It’s better to prepare for the worst than have it happen,” Lettuce shot right back with ever-familiar confidence that somehow only the Law leader could manage, “Murphy’s Law.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
Lettuce took one final look at himself in the full-length mirror. He brushed off invisible dust from his uniform, fluffed out his cape, took a final deep breath, and stepped out, Ace right behind him.
The walk to the stage was incredibly roundabout. The stage room was supposed to be a quick stop to freshen up before walking out and greeting the crowds that had been gathering around the city center, but it was located on the first floor and the actual balcony that overlooked the courtyard was on the third, which meant they had to wind up two flights of stairs and through a couple more sets of doors before making it to their destination.
The crowds, which had been at an almost gentle hum of regular commotion and previously quieted for a moment when the giant doors behind the stage swung open, then raised to ear bursting volumes with their cheering.
Ace winced at the sudden sound, but Lettuce didn’t falter.
He walked to the center podium, smiling at the crowd, waving his arms in greeting, which only seemed to rile the people up more.
Ace place himself at Lettuce’s direct right, a step behind and below. The perfect prestige of a deputy. A couple Lawmen turned to stand guard at the end of the balcony on each side of the door. Ace could look out below their current position and see the same uniforms standing proudly in the crowd at spaced intervals. While Lawmen were now always present at the City Center or Hero Headquarters, for large events like these they always brought in quite a few more.
He remembers the election debate. It was the most packed the courtyard’s ever been and even more earsplittingly loud.
“Hello, hello!” Lettuce called to the group, voice pumping out to the citizens via the podium microphone, “Citizens of the City-State of Unstable!”
The crowd roared even louder somehow. A distinct chant of, ‘Lettuce! Lettuce! Lettuce! Lettuce!’ broke through the screams for nearly a full minute before dispersing back into the crowd.
Lettuce silently chuckled, putting his hands up to shush the crowd gently, and eventually they quieted.
“Thank you very much for coming out so suddenly, I know this was last minute and I’m grateful for everyone’s time,” He had to pause for another moment as a second, smaller but no less enthusiastic cheer rippled through the waves of people, “I have come to share some amazing news!
“As you probably already know, the Law has recently been cracking down on vigilante activity. Of course, we are not opposed to acts of public service; we as the Hero Commission were originally founded all those decades ago to provide that support needed to properly ensure the life and safety of the public.
“However, many of these vigilantes do not have the proper training or education, and their tactics can often end up hurting more people despite often honorable intentions.
“In this specific case, the party involved might be honorable by all intents and purposes but has shown a long history of cooperating and even befriending the very people that threaten the lives of everyone here.
“We acknowledge this first part fully, and especially with this specific individual’s long line of positive standing with the public, especially over social media, we generously offered them a spot with the Law to become a licensed hero.”
Lettuce was interrupted by a quick cheer, to which he just smiled and politely nodded at them.
“Unfortunately, they decline, which is where I’m here to deliver the sad news.”
Ace could feel the crowd’s anticipation mounting, their volume quieting to an almost uncanny level.
“We now have the vigilante Secretkeeper in our custody,” He finally revealed, “And in accordance with the new law instated four days ago, we will be holding a public execution this evening.
“This is also to server as a warning to all the lawbreakers of Unstable’s criminal underground; the Law will no longer stand aside while you hurt or allow the hurt of our citizens.”
A moment of complete silence. Almost contemplative, almost negative. Ace took a small, unsteady breath in.
Then…
An eruption of noise. Cheering, chanting, celebration. Ace relaxed in relief.
(It was still uncanny to him how easily people were swayed by the caracal; how easily they left their old thoughts and beliefs behind. It was almost unnatural.)
Lettuce soaked up the attention, preening under the spotlight where the deputy would have shied away.
“Thank you!” He gave a short bow, “Thank you very much. Your support means the world to us. None of what we’ve accomplished would have been possible without every single one of you.”
With that, Lettuce steps off the podium with a wave, Ace in tow behind him as they winded back inside, down the stairs.
“Did…” Ace begins, almost unsure, “Did you really offer Secretkeeper a place with the Law?”
“Secretkeeper?” Lettuce scoffs, “Of course not. They’re a threat through and through. Why would I continue to endanger our citizens with such a ridiculous offer? They will never have a chance to join the Law, per say.”
“I see.”
“I do have some questions for them. Their ability may be useful if monitored closely, and their cooperation may buy them a life in prison rather than anvil execution, but it will never buy them freedom. They’ve committed too many crimes for that, and the Commission nor the Law has no use for criminals in its ranks.”
“I see.”
“I was up most of the night with our Information unit. They’ve dug up all their records. I haven’t gotten a chance to look at anything, nor even approach them face-to-face with any proposition, but what do you say we change that right now?”
“Right now?” Ace echoed, almost numbly.
“We have time. The rest of the day, I reckon, though I sure hope it doesn’t take quite that long. I would love to announce their cooperation to the public rather than an execution,” Lettuce sighed, half real half faux acting that still had yet to pass from the media appearance. “A change of heart, the headlines would eat it up.”
“Is there anything you’re asking about specifically?” Ace doubted he’d have nothing. It was very unlike Lettuce to be unprepared, but there was always a first for everything.
“In fact, I do,” Lettuce brightened, “How much do you know of the Invisible Knight that’s been cropping up?”
“I know that they’ve recently been reclassified as an anti-hero. And that they were considering bumping them all the way down to Villain?”
“Yes, all true. Well, I have… interesting news from a couple birds.”
“Parakeet and Cockatoo?”
“Oh, come now, Ace, why are we still referring to them in code?” Lettuce chided him, tutting, “Parrot and Theo have been very cooperative since they couldn’t participate in the election anymore.”
Maybe not of their own volition, Ace considered darkly. He knew he shouldn’t be feeling bad for a couple of lawbreakers, but he couldn’t help it. They had genuinely good intentions and he admired them for it. It certainly didn’t erase the face that Parrot had left the Heroes, much less what Theo had done, but it was a start.
“In fact, I was visiting them just yesterday, right before we found that key piece of information for the raid, and wouldn’t you know they had a familiar visitor,” The caracal continued, his tail swishing with every step downwards, descending with his right-hand man to the basement floors, “Sadly he was already leaving, a shame, really. I would have loved to fully make sure Mr. Pear was doing okay.”
Ace blinked, pausing on his current step before descending two at a time to keep up.
“Flame was there?”
“And he was apparently looking for someone!” Lettuce paused to swipe his card. He held the door open for his deputy with a pleasant smile, “Our dear Invisible friend, strangely enough.”
“What for?”
“He seems to have come to the interesting conclusion that our Mystery friend is Gambit,” Lettuce widened his eyes dramatically, like the sheer idea of it was already ridiculous. Ace knew he was acting; even bad leads were leads in this profession, after all. “Well, at least that’s what he told me. Parrot informed me that it was a lie; that Flame’s real suspect was someone else, though he cared not to specify who. Apparently it was Parrot who believed that line of thinking.”
“Do you think this ‘someone else’ may be Secretkeeper themselves? Or maybe even someone associated with them?”
“You’ve read my mind, Ace,” Lettuce gave him a genuine smile, eyes sparkling with pride, “Because with the possible involvement of Gambit, Secretkeeper suddenly became an even more major player.”
Lettuce did not need to slide his card at their next stop, instead he was waved in quickly by the Lawman guarding the door.
Ace’s eyes flicked around the interrogation control room. He was disturbingly familiar with it, both in a state of emptiness when it was just him, Lettuce, their prisoner, and perhaps one more, but also in its current state; flooded with people working the site. The majority of the scattered computer workers stood when Lettuce entered, giving rushed bows, warm wishes, and clipped updates before hunching back over their screens.
“Commissioner,” One of Lettuce’s most trusted friends, one of probably three including Ace himself, stepped forward.
“Nemesis,” He greeted back with a smile, “How have things been going thus far?”
“We’ve gotten absolutely nothing,” Loppezz replied back with a slight frown, “We were hoping you could do your thing?”
“Of course I can,” The commissioner nodded curtly. He accepted the manilla folders she held out for him, already flicking one open to scan through the information inside. Ace let his own eyes flick it over; it seemed to be basic life information; parents (unknown), hybrid status (seraphim angel), age (barely fifteen), and pointers to deeper pages for a full medical history. “Is this all?”
Loppezz shrugged. “I only scanned the first page. That’s all you really need.”
“Oh Loppezz,” Lettuce frowned playfully, tutting, “You should know by now that any information is useful information.”
“Lettuce,” Ace interrupted them before they could dive into a full conversation about the usefulness of certain pieces of information, “Am I free to go?”
“Of course, Ace, I’ll message you when I’m finished here if the execution is to be a go or not.”
“Thank you, sir,” He nodded stiffly before turning on his heel.
He made quick work in getting out of the dungeon, taking the steps up two at a time.
He never liked being down there for too long.
Someone else.
Eggchan was pulling at the blocky metal cuffs they’d trapped his wrists in when someone entered. He instantly paused in his attempt to look up, meeting eyes with LettuceK, the Hero Commissioner.
He swallowed. Lettuce just gave him an almost pleasant smile.
Egg watched wearily as he scooted out the chair opposite the one he was strapped to, laying out multiple manilla folders onto the table and flipping the first open.
“Well, then, Mister Chan,” He mused, “Quite the predicament you’ve found yourself in.”
“Yes, sir,” Egg tried to smile. It didn’t exactly work out.
“I mean,” He glanced up at the seraphim, eyes twinkling with amusement; the type of unnatural glee that didn’t fit the blank interrogation room, “Quite a track record you have, ay Secretkeeper? I mean, vigilantism, harboring and aiding dangerous and most wanted villains and criminals, and even colluding with Gambit, who’s on top of the list? That’s at least a lifetime in prison. To be completely honest we already have your execution scheduled for later today especially considering your involvement with Gambit.”
Egg swallowed dryly, feeling the sudden temperature drop in the room.
(He had faith in Wemmbu, he’d come to rescue him, but today? That was also a bit soon…)
“Fox got your tongue?” Lettuce purred. Egg suddenly felt the enormous urge to pull away from the predator in front of him, run away from this dank room and hide behind a best friend who was much more competent than he.
“No, sir,” His voice trembled slightly.
“Listen, Mister Chan, I can get the execution rescheduled, maybe even cancelled in lieu of a lifetime of maximum security-” Egg wasn’t sure which was worse “-but that is, of course, depending on how cooperative you’re going to be.”
“Cooperative…?” He responded, eyes tracking the way the caracal stood, the way his tail flicked in almost excitement.
“Well, I’ve heard some fascinating rumors about how our newest Invisible Knight might be a villain in disguise! Can you imagine that?” His smile didn’t faulter, the question almost mocking, “Though, of course, I’m pretty sure you do with your quite extensive knowledge into hero-villain affairs.”
The question went unsaid but completely clear: answer fully and truthfully or else.
But Egg was frozen solid. He couldn’t. He couldn’t rat out Wemmbu; not Gambit nor Mystery, he couldn’t give up his best friend to someone who wanted nothing else but to tear him up for fun.
He was sure Wemmbu wouldn’t mind, would be way more interested in Egg’s own safety and wellbeing than his own, but he couldn’t bring himself to say a word to endanger his friend.
“Such a shame,” Lettuce gave a small, displeased sigh, finally deciding that Egg had been silent for too long, “They always choose my least favorite way.”
He only had a moment to ponder on who ‘they’ was before rough, gloved hands grabbed the back of his eyeball and slammed it to the table.
Someone else.
Egg could barely walk; his weight was supported mostly by the two Lawmen hitching him up by the armpits. Scrambling his feet to try and walk as normally as possible just agitated the multiple wounds spanning up and down his legs, the ones he waved off in lieu of saving potions.
(“Who would want to spare a criminal a comfortable walk to their own execution?”)
It became easier to just go limp than to fight against their hold.
He’d given up hope that Wemmbu could save him; one day was too little time to plan a good rescue plan, much less one where they’d both get out alive and uncaptured.
(Maybe part of him wished his best friend would just not even try- he had been dead weight throughout both their mask careers and Wemmbu might have an easier time without having to constantly save him.)
The Lawmen halted, his legs gently hitting the base of a large, heavy-duty cauldron.
At least he thought so, his vision was really fuzzy (some miniscule splinter that had stuck to black gloves tore through the fragile coating of his eye, slicing straight through it like a warm knife to butter. Even after an enchanted golden apple his right side’s peripheral vision had yet to return, and probably never would. An unintentional accident, but permanent all the same).
He saw the vague outline of a large, vertical structure. Tilted his eye back to see, barely made out the outline of an anvil at the top; the promised method.
At least it would be quick, he reasoned with himself.
With a heft and no further ado, he was lifted up and into the cauldron, pushed into a kneeling position by the shoulders, then falling a bit further in once his support was taken away. The guards didn’t leave, just stepped back to either side of the structure.
He supposed they were right in their assumption that they didn’t need to hook the sections of chains around his arms to the hook at the front of the cauldron, he wasn’t going to try and escape. Didn’t have the energy.
The Hero Commissioner said a few words to an assembled crowd. Egg couldn’t focus in on the gathering; his head felt too light.
Wemmbu, he prayed to whatever deity could hear him that his best friend would understand him after the fact, thank you for being my friend.
He closed his eyes, took a breath. His last, probably.
It took him a moment to register that the smash he heard wasn’t his own skull getting caved in- it was someone else’s.
Egg jolted, eye swiveling around until he found the culprit.
Wemmbu, invisible to the world save for his armor, switching Crucible (his secondary mace, the one not commonly associated with his villain persona) out for Mystery’s sword.
“Secret, get out, get out,” Wemmbu frantically yelled at him while running his blade through the closest alive Lawmen’s chest.
Except his limbs felt like lead. Like moving them in any discernable direction was an impossible task. He tried anyways, falling forward and slamming his shoulders on the sharp edge of the cauldron with a gasp as he felt multiple scratches and cuts that had been barely scabbed get pulled open again.
“Cut the line!” The commissioner snarled, voice distorting between the screams of the crowd (since when was that happening? Egg hadn’t noticed).
“EGG!”
He felt a pair of hands close around his upper arm, felt them tug him free. His mind was too fuzzy to be healthy; he couldn’t move his body besides falling limp into the invisible arms of his best friend.
A tiny, almost indiscernible snip.
Then a whoosh.
The person holding him jerked, pulling the rest of his legs free, screaming something he couldn’t quite make out.
Egg just let himself melt into the armor. He was safe now, that’s all that mattered, he was safe and Wemmbu was here.
Then an almost muted clang as metal crushed something soft between metal. Egg was tugged back an inch before the person holding him could steady them. It suddenly felt less heavy; just for a moment.
Then the pain hit.
His mind sharpened, just enough to light up his whole back. He gasped for a sudden lungful of air, breathing in the metallic scent of blood.
“Egg,” Wemmbu inhaled, his grip trembling.
The seraphim felt the waves and waves and waves of pain course through him. He hunched over in the arms that held him and wretched. Stomach acid and blood painted on top of the blood and brain matter already present. He heaved once, twice, thrice until nothing else could come out, body convulsing.
“Egg,” Wemmbu said again, voice shaking.
The seraphim looked up. Barely saw his best friend, barely saw his surroundings. His focus was fully on the cauldron.
On the white appendage splattered with blood, crushed by the anvil that was inches away from the rest of his body.
On the fact that said wing wasn’t anymore attached to his body anymore.
Egg was used to blood. You had to be when Gambit was your best friend.
But he wasn’t quite used to his own.
He puked up another violent splatter of blood, then everything went black.