Chapter Text
“The word on the street is that Terrex is a teammate, or perhaps colleague, of the villain Flare,” a reporter says, and Aye jumps.
He’s only got the news on because the house feels quiet when he’s home alone, but now he turns up the volume and fixes his eyes on the screen; in the corner, a fight plays out between the Solis duo and a large, hard-to-make-out… dinosaur?
Yeah, that’s a T-rex, huh, but the tail is kind of weird-looking.
Solis and Shade work together, Aye watching, the reporter summarising the blows-
“This is the kind of teamwork that makes this duo such a pillar of strength,” she says, and Aye huffs through his nose, “Really, really nice stuff.”
As the fight comes to an end, she circles back to, “The villain emerged in the middle of one of Solis’s regular patrols – the government spokesman has alleged that the Sun Hero is being targeted by yet another villain. The fourth such incident in the past month-“ and that’s Aye, on the screen, all in orange and smiling with more confidence than he was actually feeling.
Then there’s another face – that old lady who kept making multiples of Shade that tried to punch him, who the screen labels Clonemistress – another, this one just in a labcoat and labelled Tin-Opener, and Aye doesn’t remember that one at all.
Who the fuck, he wonders, would call themself Tin Opener.
“In other heroic news, the city’s little brother Hero Kid successfully-“ cuts off, as Aye changes the channel.
He doesn’t, in fact, have any connection to those people. Aye’s been bothering Solis and Shade on their patrols, it’s true, dropping in and shooting fire at the back of Shade’s head then fleeing, but that’s all, he hasn’t even really talked to Shade since- he swallows, remembering the way Shade crumpled there, on the ground.
The way Solis didn’t even look.
He clenches his hands into fists about it even now, but he hasn’t done anything to them, really, since then.
Is someone else targeting Solis and Shade?
“Unacceptable,” Teacher Waree pronounces, and Aye looks at his hands. “This is the third time, Ayan.”
“I’m sorry,” he tells her.
She says, “Is it night classes?” softening her voice.
Ayan shakes his head and repeats, “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again, teacher.”
“You can’t sleep in class, Ayan, you’re one of the brightest…”
It was decided because we’re superheroes- Aye pushes his egg around his plate with a spoon. Shade doesn’t name the decision as Solis’s or the government’s or the media’s or anyone’s, anyone at all, and Aye can’t stop thinking about it.
To be so absolutely sure – it’s right, it was decided – he can’t wrap his mind around thinking that way.
He’s not so sure about anything, even things he’s certain of.
Aye’s mission is the only thing he can do, but-
Shade whimpering on the ground, people on the news saying the new villain Flare, so much of it trips him up and makes him-
“Aye,” his mother says, nearly a bark.
He looks up at her.
There’s worry in the lines of her face.
He scoops up half the egg, puts it in his mouth, and smiles.
The worry doesn’t go away.
Aye’s map isn’t pretty.
His tracker data is plotted on three different maps, actually, incriminating but necessary as he stares over them, trying desperately to make it all work in his head.
He thinks – maybe, maybe – he knows what corner Solis and Shade make their base in. South of the city, there’s a spot that the tracker data definitely seems to circle, and it’s far enough from their regular patrols that nobody who wasn’t tracking them would expect them to make their base there, which as far as Aye’s concerned is very nearly proof.
It would be stupid to go.
The necklace is burned and warped and Uncle Di’s leg was nearly charcoal, and the money behind them has to provide them with a serious level of protection, something that would probably do worse if Aye just attacked it, but he knows where.
Probably.
That was a decision made nearly as soon as he knew where, actually. It burned, because it makes the tracker feel stupid, feel pointless, but as soon as he had it Aye was struck with the certainty that if he followed that trail, he’d die too.
But now, there have been three different visits to another building.
Well, circling another building, almost – it seems as though they’re being as cautious as him, investigating it, and Aye laughs to himself at the thought that Shade might be worried about warrants, now.
The thought that his words might actually have had an effect.
Me
Does it have anything belonging to the children?
WON’T ADMIT TO HAVING A NAME
This is one of the CoM’s training centres.
No important data there, it’s only nominally a lab, the CoM won’t defend it themselves.
They also believe that the “hero” is investigating that one – there’s a file on it.
Aye stares at the themselves until it’s burned into his eyes; he doesn’t believe it, is the thing.
Oh, that the Children of Memory aren’t worried about Solis and Shade finding anything important there, he believes that. That they, therefore, won’t bother defending it, he believes that too.
No, Aye doesn’t believe his contact is actually at all separate from the organisation.
He might be paranoid, but-
It doesn’t matter either way, to his investigation, is the thing.
Whoever they are, his contact has gift-wrapped Aye a meeting- no, a confrontation with Solis and Shade, and at this point, he’s been frustrated with his own cowardice for fucking weeks.
If Shade has been there, like the tracker says, three separate times, there’s a good chance he’ll go back. A Children of Memory one – Aye verified it too, and this trail was, if anything, easier to follow – must seem connected to Aye, at this point. Shade might even be scouting it out for Flare, trying to find him or something.
He’d hate to disappoint.
It’s the fifth night he’s waiting – Teacher Waree has actually stopped calling him aside for falling asleep in class, now! – and Aye is really starting to wonder if the tracker’s been compromised.
He’s humming to himself, tapping his fingernails on the walls, when-
There’s someone approaching.
Someone whose heat signature twists and bends through an impossibly small space to enter – Aye nearly giggles.
“Mr Shade!” he calls out.
Shade, who is approaching a filing cabinet like he wants to copy Aye, copy Flare – he turns around slowly, looking weird to Aye’s mixed senses.
Invisible if you can only perceive light, again.
“Flare,” Shade says, sounding resigned and quiet.
Aww, and there was Aye, thinking he wanted to meet – but Aye has put on his armour as Shade, and intimidating the heroes is an always-good, so he grins. Poor Shade.
Walks up to him, stalking like a cat, and raises a hand in mock-threat; Shade actually steps back in horror.
Cute.
When Aye laughs, Shade’s face becomes perceivably hotter, it actually – he laughs at his own thought, flares hotter.
He coos, “Aww. Blushing?”
Shade pretends not to hear him, and demands, “Why are you breaking in here?”
“Ha!” Aye laughs.
It’s true, to be fair, that the tracker has never been inside the building before – maybe their investigation wasn’t just cautious at all, maybe they were setting up a fucking sting so they’d have an excuse to enter, but Shade wanted to be here too, set the whole thing up.
“I’m breaking in?” he asks, incredulous at the nerve, “What about you, hero?”
“I am a hero,” says Shade, sounding far more uncertain than he must mean to, voice all trembly, making Aye’s stupid heart pang, “The lab asked for monitoring in case of villainy.”
That’s for sure not true – unless Aye counts his probably-one-of-them contact, and Solis and Shade as the villainy, of course, but that’s a stretch even for him. Either way, they didn’t ask Shade.
“Liar,” he whispers to the still-invisible, still cowering sidekick in front of him.
Shade seems frozen; he’s cradled, or maybe caged, between Aye and the filing cabinet Shade wanted to break into, and his face is still hot, so hot, it’s like bright red in not-quite-Aye’s-eyes.
“What makes you think I’m a liar,” Shade trembles at him, “Are you working with the lab?”
He laughs again.
It’s at the partial confession that Shade isn’t working with the lab, but it’s also at the fact that Aye doesn’t know how to answer him; is he here on the Children of Memory’s orders?
“Maybe the lab works for me,” he deflects, “You don’t know – you’ve broken in. Stealing information, Superman?”
“They’ve refused to report results to the government,” Shade tells him, and Aye almost holds his breath as he listens despite himself – oh, Shade is biased, but there’s money behind him, and Aye wants to know anything he can about the Children of Memory, “Why would they, if they’re not hiding-“
“-They aren’t required to do that, Shade,” Aye prods.
It’s no good if Shade ends up on a rant about, like, the existence of private scientific institutions, he wants to know when the Children were asked to report results.
Disappointingly, Shade’s next words are, “But what are they hiding?”
Shade doesn’t know more than Aye.
Ugh. Shade and his talk of not needing a warrant, last time, setting Aye up to come here this time.
“We have a right,” Aye says, tired, annoyed at him and at them, meaning the words for both groups because fuck it, the Children are probably listening, “To privacy and against government interference, and scientific research especially needs to be free of that interference, it’s about truth and-“
“-Nobody wants to interfere!” Shade bursts out, distressed. “Not in anything that isn’t wrong. Is the lab not doing anything wrong?”
He sucks his own teeth.
Shade’s so naïve.
It’s cute.
Aggravating.
And besides, he thinks about the last lab, more than a month ago, thinks about Solis and that filing cabinet and the look on his face when Flare first revealed himself, and he says, “Oh, Shade. Do you really believe that your boss doesn’t want to interfere?”
Shade shudders into visibility.
He’s all masked, still, and his face is hot enough that the details are pretty hard to discern, but that must be a show of how much he doesn’t want to think about Aye’s question, and it makes Aye sad.
So Aye raises a hand, gentle, to Shade’s cheek, despite himself.
He can feel Shade trembling.
“There you are,” he tells him, fondness and worry leaking into it, “Forgot to stay invisible, Shade.”
He strokes Shade’s face with his fingers and wonders if he’ll admit it, that Solis has his own interests and his own plans; wonders who, out of Solis and Flare, Shade is more afraid of.
Then, sudden, bewildering, Shade bursts forwards, Aye raises his hands to defend-
Aye is being kissed.
Shade’s lips are dry on his, and his mouth is a little parted – the kiss is harsh, teeth clanking together, and Aye gasps into the sensation.
“Shade,” he says, wondering.
He can see Shade’s eyes, behind the mask, shimmering and wide and terrified, and his heart is beating hard and he thinks stupid, I’m stupid. Lost.
Goes up on tiptoes, and kisses Shade again, softer.
There are tears against his own face.
Shade pushes him away, then, and it would be a hard push except Aye’s fought Shade and he knows that it’s not even as strong as he’d use for a testing blow – Aye lets him, though, backs off with his hands in the air.
There’s a pause, silent, crackling with it.
“How did you end up with Solis, anyway?” Aye asks, quiet, sitting down cross-legged on the floor.
Shade mirrors him without seeming to mean to.
Aye adds, “Does he have something on you?” because there’s all that fear on one side, all that disregard on the other, and it’s enough to make him wonder.
“No, my parents-“ and Shade cuts himself off.
“He’s your dad?” Aye asks.
Shade scoffs, “No.”
“Then what-“
“-I don’t want to tell you.”
It seems like a lie.
Aye likes him, is the problem. The main one.
“Does anyone know who you are?” he asks, meaning the boy behind the mask – meaning more than that.
The answer should be yes, if Solis knows or did something to Shade’s parents, but he’s not surprised that Shade hears the question underneath and shakes his head, asks, “Does anyone know you?”
He smiles, and for a moment thinks of taking the mask off.
“Did you ever meet someone called-“
An alarm wails – red lights flare – was it on purpose?
Aye has to flee.