Chapter Text
Toronto Canada
“You're kicking me out?” In a small apartment in Toronto, two roommates argue over a kitchen counter. A dark haired man in a polo tee and his underwear, Wallace Wells stares unimpressed at his uninvited roommate. Scott Pilgrim, said uninvited roommate, distressed redhead, and also currently pant less, mouth hangs open in disbelief, he truly never even thought with his lack of brain cells that Wallace would ever ask him to leave. The silence punctuated with the echoing caw of a crow outside, Wallace snatches his coffee from back from Scott who in a display of typical ignorance took something that didn't belong to him. “Where am I going to go Wallace?”
“One, it's only for a week. Two, not really my problem, at least you won't have trouble packing.” A quick scan around the room would tell anyone that Wallace owned mostly everything in here, Scott owned some clothes in the dresser and his jacket, even the socks he was wearing are Wallace’s. “I got the week off and I want to bring some friends over for a little week-long get together, and having you around is counterintuitive to that.”
“Why didn't you tell me earlier?!”
“I did Scott.” Wallace can remember various times through the last month that he told Scott about his plans, almost every couple of days he would remind him to find someplace to stay but he was received with Scott lack of attention span, or a dismissive acceptance of something said to him that he didn't actually listen to. Wallace even reminded Scott drunk a few times from his hazy memory, or that might’ve been the mop they keep in the closet. ”It's not my fault that you don't have functional ears or a functional brain. And it's going to be nice not hearing about your dream girl every morning.”
“I'll stay in the closet, I won't talk about dream girls, and be super quiet you wont even know I'm here!” Scott had been having dreams of a girl on roller skates through, he’d call them nightmares but according to his dream visitor ‘They're too depressing to be nightmares.’ Whatever that means.
“You can stay in the closet all you want, but not here. Now you have thirty minutes to get your stuff and go, I have to start cleaning and getting all the Scotts stains out is going to take awhile.” Scott dejectedly at the ground, as he shuffles to put his pants on, gathering his few spare clothes in a backpack that also belongs to his roommate, he makes his way to slip his coat on. Scott drags his feet as he heads for the nob and stops, he looks back at Wallace with big doe eyes only a can be shared between dopey morons and wet dogs. Wallace had to give it to Scott, he almost cracked. “Go, Scott.” Scott opens the door and steps into the doorway, looking back with wetter eyes, Wallace only answers with a dead stare. The redhead steps out of the apartment closing the door until there's a small crack, only have his face is visible, his big eyes somehow larger and his frown deepened, The darker haired man, walked up to the door forcing it shut and locking the door, a small ‘oof,’ could be heard from the other side. Wallace waited until he heard the sound of Scott’s beat up sneakers shuffling away in the snow before he let out a breath. “He almost got me with that last one.”
Outside In The Cold
Scott Pilgrim is now homeless. Walking the streets in silent disbelief, he couldn't believe Wallace put him out, they were supposed to be besties in Scotts eyes, a bestie that let him stay in his apartment until he got back on his feet, whenever that was. As he made his way to Stephen's, his mind wandered to his dreams as distraction from this horrible morning. About a month ago he started having those dreams again, the ones about being in a hot, vast desert alone. He started having them after . . . But after the first year they became infrequent, though now something or more appropriate someone has appeared in them, and they had a lot of opinions about Scott’s emotions.
“Dude c’mon, this is the third time this week.”
‘. . . Wha?” Scott looked up, half blinded by the piercing blue sky from his position bent over on the ground, a woman with dyed hair is standing in front of him, silhouetted by the giant moon that sits on the horizon. She kneels down in front of him.
“Listen, I usually just ride past and ignore the wailing but this is just getting sad.” Scott stared at her in shock. ”What's happening man?”
“. . . Are you real or my conscience?”
“Sure, anyways spill.” The mystery girl crossed her arms. “ As soon as we figure this out the sooner I can go back to a peaceful shortcut.”
“. . . Shortcut?” Her eyes squinted in impatience. “Oh, um I guess- . . . I guess this is because of my ex.”
“. . . ,” The woman's start becomes less judgmental and more neutral “How long ago did you guys break up?” The woman said in a controlled voice.
“Like a year ago.” Scott muttered. Looking down again. “Or something like that.” Silence rang between them, nothing but awkward silence until the lady spoke up again.
“That's natural. I can relate with . . . the unresolved feelings department.” She said carefully. She seemed to be dancing around a topic, which was weird to Scott considering she may be his conscience.
“Do you also have a kinda mean ex?”
“We're not talking about me right now.” The lady said curtly. “You need to get your life together man.”
“Get out of my life Scott.”
The echo of a distorted voice snapped Scott from his trance realizing he was already at Stephen and Young Neil's door. After that most nights when Scott would have ‘The Dream’ the mystery girl would appear. They would talk about Scott’s issue of the week which mostly involved her telling him how he sucked at problem solving and how he needs to get over his ex. Scott tried dating well after that new years disaster but everything reminded him of back then, she would also remind him of back then when she called to talk about all her new achievements. That's to say he never lasted past the first date. To which the woman in his dreams called “Really sad.”
‘She really judgy, I guess that's a conscience’s job.’ he thought as he knocked on the door. The second he was finished the door slammed open, a hand grab a fist full of Scotts shirt pulling him through the threshold. The hand belonged to his longtime friend from college Stephen Stills, the anxious guy had only gotten more so after his latest break up with Julie Powers, in the words of his conscience ‘I give them 48 hours.’
“Thanks for coming early for practice,” Scott is dragged to the middle of the room as his base is forced into his hands. “I'll be in the kitchen making some finishing touches so it's perfect because if it's not perfect I swear I'm going to-” Stephen's voice got quieter as he exited the living room into their kitchen, though he seemed to be talking to Scott. The bassist head moved from the hallway to the rest of the people in the room, on the couch was Young Neil, Stephen's roommate who was playing on an old Gameboy Advance, even though Scott thought he was kind of simple minded, and Knives Chau, Stephen’s coworker. She's a teenager who started hanging around once she learned Stephen had a band, she was a nice girl. Scott then realized someone was missing.
“Hey,” The ginger jumped as he turned to stare at his other bandmate and fellow redhead sitting at the drums behind him, Kim Pines. Who was currently sporting resting Kim face, at least she was when Scott was around. “What's wrong with you today, . . . actually don't tell me.” That earned a small chuckle from Knives.
“Wallace kicked me out today.” There was a brief silence in the room, only Stephen’s ramblings from the kitchen could be heard.
“ . . . Scott what did I just tell you.” Kim sighed, “Took him long enough though.”
“It's only for a week!” Scott exclaimed.
“And whose the unfortunate soul that has the dishonor of letting you into their home?”
“Actually I was going to ask-”
“No.” The stern word cut directly into Scotts soul, try as he might Kim wouldn't relent and if he pushed he would suffer more damage than his mental health bar could take right now. He turned towards Young Neil who seemingly was half paying attention.
“Can I stay here Neil? I'll sleep in the closet, and I won't talk about dream girls!” Scott looked at the twenty year old with expectation. Neil stared into space for a moment before turning to the direction of the kitchen. Everyone watches as he gets up and walks into the kitchen, Stephen's ramblings to the universe seem to turn into a muffled conversation with Young Neil's softer voice. After a few tense minutes there's the soft sound of footsteps as Neil appears back in the living room.
“Closets full.” The two quiet words sent Scott to his knees, all color drained from him. As the three of them look at Scott’s mental shutdown, Knives spoke up.
“You could stay with m-“
“Absolutely not.” Kim cut off the teenager. “I don’t think your parents would want a random stranger living with them or in your closet.” Kim walked over to the husk that is Scott Pilgrim, with a gentle kick he lay limply on his side facing her. “Why can’t you go to your parents?”
Scott on the outside continues to silently agonize over his cold street urchin fate, internally Scott didn’t want his parents to ask too many questions, like ‘How’s work?’ Or ‘Seeing anybody new?’ Questions he didn’t and couldn't have answers for. Stephen steps back into the room handing sheet music to Kim and dropping them over the emotionally deceased corpse that was Scott Pilgrim.
“We only have a week until a big show at the Rockit, so we have to practice like our lives depend on it.” Stephen picks Scott up off the floor repositioning him with bass in hand.
“Fine, but we’ll probably suck.” Kim headed back to place at the back of the room. Ignoring Stephens cries of displeasure of her usual pessimism. Everything Scott heard was just empty noise, the reality of having to rough it on the cold Toronto was dawning on him and the more he thought about the future the more his heart raced and the pit in his stomach dropped.
“WE ARE SEX BOB-OMB!”
Everything came back into focus. Almost like a trigger word, Scott’s feet were planted, with each tap of Kim’s drum sticks the world clicked into focus as his fingers knew their positions without him having to think about it. Then the music started, the band was a distraction for Scott Pilgrim, a vague reason to continue as he is. But when he was playing it was like a live wire, he felt Kim’s anger, Stephen's determination, music was the rawest form of emotion to Scott, his entire life could be marked and defined by it. The sound of the speakers, scratchy deep vocals, and the pounding of the drums. Young Neil’s attention was on them and Knives exuberant smile told him all he needed to know. He took it all in producing skin buzzing, heart pounding, skull shaking energy. Scott smiled as he kept up with band mates. This is what he needs now, he’ll focus on the future later.
Later That Night
“She home? Alright thanks Neil, see you soon.” Stephen ended the call as he, Kim, and Stephen approached the home of Julie Powers. Young Neil as the second youngest was tasked with walking Knives home before heading to the party.
“I know Scotts not invited, but I'm surprised you're even showing up to this Stills,” Kim chides as the group heads up the steps.
“It's free advertising, also I got my invitation a week ago and Scotts my plus one.” Scott nods, Kim squints knowing that this is purely a spite move, but then shrugs, deciding that she doesn't care that much. The three head into the house as a wave of chatter and music meets them. Shedding his coat Scott turns to his bandmates.
“So are-,” Scott notices that his friends are both gone, seeming dispersed into the crowd of people. “-we are sticking together?” He notes this is the fastest he's been abandoned in any public setting so far. He shakes his head, looking around for any anchor in this sea of strangers he notices a snack table. Scott walks confidently over, grabbing a flimsy party plate and stacking up as much as it can handle, cupcakes, mini sausages, chips in a horrible amalgamation in the redheads hands. He walks over to the side of the room, back against the wall as he prepares to ruin his digestive track.
“Bread makes you fat, remember?” Scott jumped, throwing the food he had into the air. He rushed to catch each piece back on the plate, a rouge cupcake just out of his reach, grabbed by a well manicured hand that catches it before it hits Julie’s freshly cleaned floor. Scotts eyes slowly go from the cupcake up to look at probably the coolest girl he's ever seen, more importantly the girl from his dreams. She had bright dyed magenta short hair paired with amused eyes. She takes a bite of the cupcake, her prize from saving it from certain doom. “Thought you were going to cut back on the carbs after Julie’s comment last week?”
“ . . . You're real!?” In Scotts mind he replayed every dream in the last month where he told what he thought was a figment of his mind of all his insecurities, what he thought was his conscience he fed his weird outlandish thoughts about the most insignificant and juvenile things. Was actually a real person, who absolutely thought he was a loser now. “Do you think-,”
“You're kinda a loser.” The lady punctuated by taking another bite of the cupcake. “I kind of like that about you though.”
“. . . Like in a sexy way?”
“No.” She chuckled, Scott laughed with her in a more deflated manner. “But I am sorry for using your dreams for entertainment, I actually thought we'd probably never see each other ever in reality. And you seemed to enjoy talking about your issues.” Scott stares forward, beginning to munch on his mountain of sugar. They stand in silence for a bit, the lady finishing her cupcake and beginning to snatch food from Scotts pile. “Name's Ramona by the way. Ramona Flowers.”
“I'm Scott, Pilgrim . . . but you know that already. You know so much.” Scott cast Ramona a nervous glance sweating head to toe. “Hey how are you able to get into my head anyways?”
“Subspace.” She says as if that one word explains anything and everything. Scott blinks at her. “It's kind of a place where I can go to get to far away places really quickly.” After a few seconds a lightbulb lights up above Scotts head.
“Like a fast travel station!” Scott exclaims.
“Sure.” She says chewing another cupcake. “Anyways there's actually a highway running through your head, it's like three miles in fifteen seconds . . . I don't know what that is in kilometers but it's a pretty fast shortcut.”
“Man if I knew my head was a road I would have put a toll on it.” Scott knocks on his head with his free hand. “I could've made a lot of money.”
“It's a pretty good shortcut. Here how about this, in exchange for not telling you I was real and also for going through your head all the time, I’ll owe you a favor.”
“A . . . favor?” The ginger muttered.
“Within reason, but yeah if I can do it.” Ramona looked up at Scott whose eyes were large and sparkling. He looked at her as if she was a gift from God himself. “Do you . . . want to cash in that favor now?” Scott nodded his head slowly up and down. “Ok, what is it?”
The Streets of Toronto
Scott exits Stephen's house having retrieved his small bag in a sprint, he takes a piece of paper from his pocket, on it the address of his new place for the week.
“You want to stay on my couch?”
“Please, I promise I’ll be quiet, I'll even sleep in the closet!”
“Dude what?” Ramona stares at him in confusion. “But, sure. Why not.”
“Really?!”
“Yeah, I think I can call you a sort of friend at this point and if you try anything I can break your wrist.”
Scott rubbed his wrist absent mindedly. With how casually she said that Ramona could most likely break more than just his wrist. The night is quiet, the only sound being the crunch of snow between Scott’s feet and the hum of the street lights. He stops, leaning against the outside of a corner store exasperated, forgetting to ask for bus or cab money, he had to run all the way to Ramona’s. The young man takes a deep breath, the cold air filling his lungs expelling it in clouds of visible vapor. It felt kind of nice. Laying his back flat against the brick he stares in the silent empty night.
“Whatever.” A deep voice cuts through that silence, Scott's head snaps to the alleyway next to him. The raspy tone catching his attention, he slowly peaks around the corner. Far down the alley is an imposing figure illuminated dramatically by a dim light, standing well above Scott’s height with a width of about three of him. The tall man stands still, his broad back facing the redhead, from where Scott could see he seems to be on a call. He continued to stare at the large figure as he began to notice something moving on the roof above the mystery man. What he could make out as four people dressed in dark robes seemed to be silently watching the guy who Scott was going to call ‘Alleyman,’ in his head. Alleyman didn't notice them, seemingly focused on his call. Their posture began to change, getting closer to the ledge directly over Alleyman, then suddenly jumping off the roof going directly for him. Scotts body reacts before his brain does. He breaks into a dead sprint down the alleyway, the crunching of the snow alerting Alleyman, as he turns slightly towards the red head, sunglasses glinting at Scott as he builds speed. Scott goes from the ground to the wall as he runs towards what he now sees as ninjas holding cameras.
“Your costumes suck!” Scott hops off the wall, meeting all four ninjas with an aerial round house knocking them backwards further down the alley. Alleyman stood stock still as he watched Scott land in front of him, not stopping as he chased after his assailants. Before any of them could hit ground Scott was on them again grabbing two in each hand by their robes he spun them in a circle building momentum. A gust whipped through the alley as Scott spun faster and faster until he threw them into the ground, exploding into coins on impact. The Alleyman watched the loonies bounce into the air around the younger man glittering in the dim light as they fell into the snow. Scott as soon as the fight was over seemed to switch gears. “Oh cool, bus money.” And began digging through the snow for his easily gained loot. The ginger seemingly forgot all about the guy he saved. “Six, seven, eight bucks! I can get a snack and ride the bus.”
“Hey.” The voice and the noise of a flip phone closing got Scott’s attention as he turned toward the Alleyman. In Scott’s eyes he was even more impressive from the front, a chiseled face with a cool beard that Scott could never pull off, on his neck was a tattoo with the number “2,” on it. He took off his sunglasses to stare at him with confidant piercing eyes. A black t-shirt and the sickest leather jacket was all that protected him from the Canadian winter. As he spoke his mouth went from a flat line to a slight smirk. “That was good, you took care of them pretty quick.”.
“Um, yeah it’s no big deal. I’m kinda good at fighting so . . .” As he talked to this guy a warm feeling seemed to pool inside of his chest, Scott didn’t know if this was from the fight or if it was his body reacting to the cold weather. “I-I mean I’m really good at fighting, so . . . glad I could help.” The man brought his hand to his chin thinking about something as they both stood there. Alleymans eyes locked with Scott’s, the longer it went on that warm feeling grew to his ears. He seemed to make an approving noise as he pointed at Scott, shocking the ginger out of his trance.
“You're hired.” The sound of a cawing crow filled the air.
“What?” Scott asked, his head tilted. The man gave a small chuckle.
“You're going to my PBA.”
“PBA?”
“I’ll see you tomorrow for your first day.” The man approached him, that warm feeling growing to his face as he came within inches of Scott, Alleyman reached out, his large hand grappling Scott’s wrist almost completely wrapping around it, he felt something an echo of what he felt when he played music as his skin touched his, a live wire. Pulling his hand forward Alleyman reached into his jacket pocket pulling out a wad of cash and placing it into Scott’s hands. “Here's your signing bonus.” He let go of Scott’s wrist and turned and began to walk away. As he reached the edge of the alley, the man turned back. “Hey, you. What is your name?”
“U-um, Scott Pilgrim.”
“Scott Pilgrim.” Alleyman repeated, trying the name out for himself. Scott watched in awe as Alleyman nodded to him and continued walking again into the night. Scott stood there in stunned silence, his breathing a little more heavy. He looked down at the wad of money given to him, he sat there counting it for some sort of distraction his this weird feeling, though as he counted that warm feeling was replaced with sheer shock.
“Holy shit!?”
Ramona’s Apartment
“Holy Shit.” Ramona Flowers sat next to Scott on her couch, the money laid out and organized, in front of them sat about fifteen hundred loonies worth of cash. Scott seemingly staring into space. The entirety of the day took its toll on him all at once. “And he said this was the starting bonus?”
“Y-yeah?”
“And what is the job he gave you?”
“Alleyman said I was going to be his PBA?” Ramona pondered for a few moments.
“I have absolutely no idea what that means, it sounds made up.”
“Yeah.”
“I mean with having this much in cash he could be a drug dealer, he was in an alley right?”
“Yeah.”
“Scott are you lis-“ Ramona cut herself off as she looked at her house guest, his cheeks flushed, his eyes unfocused as distant. She let out a sign and got up from the couch. “Alright I’ll grab the blankets and make some tea, you just relax.” She pokes Scott’s head, his body seeming to go with the motion as he becomes horizontal on Ramona’s couch. She comes back a few moments later to find Scott fully asleep curled up, she proceeds to cover him with a blanket. She looks at the table covered with cash and squints, holding to a suspicious feeling bubbling inside of her. She closes her eyes and lets out another breath. “We’ll see where this goes.” Turning towards the kitchen to finish her tea.
???
On the couch, Scott snores into the night, his dreams not of an arid desert, depressing school days, or even of his ex. He is in that alleyway again. He and Alleyman are staring at each other, as the large full moon above illuminates the alley clearly.
“You dreaming about me, Pilgrim?” The smirk from earlier returns to the man's face.
“Uh, maybe?” That warmth pools in Scott again, starting in his chest growing its way to his ears and then finally his face. The man starts walking toward him, Scott rooted in place watching with each step as that warm feeling grew hotter, until they were an inch apart. He takes Scott’s wrist again, that electrical feeling returns as the man brings Scott’s hand to rest on the side of his face, his skin smooth, contrasted by the rough texture of his beard. The redhead’s thumb went back and forth between the two, going in small circles, Alleymans other hand rested on Scott’s hip, the smaller man's hand reflexively moving to cover it. At that moment Scott’s body was filled with that energy full force, a skin buzzing, heart pounding, skull shaking current of electricity running between him and the other man. Earthshaking confidence is what all Scott could feel from this connection, it was overwhelming. The taller man chucked.
“Then let’s make it a good one.” He leaned down his face getting closer and closer to Scott’s, every part of his body was on fire, his arms, legs, each toe searing by the magma bubbling in his body. The man was centimeters away from his face, he felt like he was going to burn to cinders.
“Ah!” Scott shot up, throwing the blanket off him, all he could do was try and take deep breaths, trying to cool his body down anyway he could. Slowly the world around him started to become clearer. He was in Ramona Apartment, on Ramona’s couch. He turned to look out the window to see the Sun just begin to crest over the horizon. He stays there still trying to contain this feeling. Scott can’t tell how long it will take before the heat dies, minutes, hours before he can think again. And once he can think again one thought comes to mind.
“I don’t know his name.”