Work Text:
There are a lot of reasons why someone would cut contact with Jaron.
Time is one of them.
Occupations in life are other.
The whole baggage that comes with existing around Jaron's powers is also something to be put on the scale.
The thing is, Jaron understands why someone he used to call one of his best friends would stop talking with him.
And truly, he really does understand.
It's not Jaron and Rek against the world anymore.
No it's Rek the superhero , beloved by everyone as a public figure, someone whose face is on kids' toys. And Jaron, who scrapes by day after day, pay after pay, freelance after freelance, because it's hard to get a stable job where he doesn't accidentally activate the glaring unregistered power he clearly doesn't have.
Two people in completely different levels of society.
So truly , Jaron understands why on some random day Rek decided he had enough and just- stopped answering him, no more late night calls when Rek was bored on patrol and Jaron was awake because sometimes his insomnia is just like that , no more Rek randomly showing to check on him, dragging him to some fancy restaurant paying for the both of them with his well paid hero job money.
These days, Jaron also barely thinks about Rek. Rek stopped thinking about Jaron first anyway.
So yeah, Jaron doesn't care about Rek, doesn't care about heroes, he just wants to survive, if he is being honest with himself.
If asked he would say he stopped caring after the incident with Ash - Ash's whole situation is something that in bad days helps Jaron to hate his powers a bit less - but truthfully, if anyone ever knew a Jaron when Rek was around, they would know exactly when Jaron stopped caring.
He barely blinked when a well know supervillain started using the almost condemned building he calls his home as a base, he shrugged off when the guy offered to help with rent, he has been living alone all this time after all , he somehow even ended up with a routine with the aforementioned supervillain, the guy does breakfast, Jaron does dinner, and they jokenpo the lunch. It is a good system. He got used to it.
The days he spent there became weeks, that turned into months. And almost a year after barging into Jaron's life and home, Bacon brought Planet.
And yeah, Jaron normally doesn't ask questions, it's safer and easier to get detached that way. But Planet was a hero and Bacon just brought the unconscious hero directly to his -their- apartment.
He remembers that his first instinct upon seeing the bloodied unconscious hero, was to start piling things up, he opened a pack of crackers and just placed it around the couch Bacon put Planet in. A weird ritual if anyone didn't know better.
Bacon was also nervous, he didn't stop Jaron, so Jaron must be doing something right.
The villain would stay at the hero's side, monitoring him, flinching slightly at each spike of lag Jaron conjured by doing his odd stacks around. He lives with Jaron, Bacon was used to it, even if Jaron had never done it purposely in that intensity before -Rek also got used after all.
Jaron eyed Planet, he was covered in blood that Bacon assured him it was not his nor Planet's, his snow white skin practically glowing in the dim light.
Stack, stack, stack, the surrounding blocks of his apartment now filled with the comfortable fuzzy static of lag that Jaron was more than familiar with. But that Planet wouldn't have any pre-build resistance if he decided the best plan was to try to attack Jaron and Bacon.
And yeah, Jaron had many questions; what happened to the hero? Why was he covered in blood? What did Bacon do? What did Jaron do to end up in this situation? Many questions that didn't get answered straight away, because Planet woke up.
And to his confusion, the hero didn't even try to fight, he was clearly tense, analyzing the moldy walls of Jaron's apartment before looking at Bacon and relaxing . Planet slumped on the couch, looking completely drained, no fight in his body. So far from the holier than all figure Jaron would see in the news sometimes.
He whispered a small “thank you,” to Bacon, who was checking over him, specifically, his neck.
Jaron watched, confused, completely lost about what was happening, his hand hovering over his stack of crackers, not sure if he should build more, or start undoing them, as Planet's white, bright skin started flaking, showing a more fleshy tone underneath it, on his neck, there was the unmistakable mark of a burning human hand, Bacon's hand.
Bacon flinched, be it at a spike of lag, or at the reminder of his own actions, your guess is as good as Jaron's, but he turned, movements a bit janky because of the lag, looking at him, the perpetual burning marks on his face doing nothing to hide how utterly tired he also was. “Jaron, Planet is safe. You can take that stuff off.” He gestures at Jaron's handy work.
Jaron nodded, trusting Bacon in a way any newspaper in the city would advise you not to.
He remembers Planet turning to look at him, the cold, tired eyes of a fighter, of a hero whose hands were literally covered in blood. The hero watched as Jaron broke his stacks, the lag dissipating.
Jaron saw how both Bacon and Planet relaxed now that the pressure was off, he on the other hand couldn't help but feel weirdly exposed, graphic t-shirt and shorts on in his own home.
He blushed, betrayal bubbling in and grabbing him by the throat, making breathing harder with how he couldn't feel safe in his own house. He buried it, he got used to Bacon, he got used to one of the most wanted criminals in the city cooking waffles for him in the morning, he can deal with a hero spreading blood on his couch, and judging his choice of PJs.
Why was this his life?
Bacon and Planet talked, right in Jaron's earshot , technically in his living room, he wasn't asked to get out so he stayed.
He didn't like what he learned. He isn’t sure why he- the civilian was being involved in all of this, but he truly didn't like it.
After that day, Jaron was suddenly way more aware of villains and heroes than he was since Rek left his life.
Planet stayed, because obviously he stayed, the apartment was already cramped before, but at least he got him and Bacon to share the other room. Planet was now the official lunch guy, putting an end to Bacon's and Jaron's interminable jokenpo battles.
It was cramped, stressful and he was still not sure why this is his life. But it could be worse.
He wouldn’t ever admit it, but it was good for him- the company. Even if it was an extremely illegal one, it wouldn't be the first time he blurred the lines of legality and it wouldn't be the last.
And with all of that, Jaron took his metaphorical shades off for the first time in years.
And now often, he would think about Rekrap, about how the glimpses of the hero's eyes he caught on tv were way too similar to the toys kids carried around. Plastic. Fake.
Jaron always had a complicated relationship with his power.
It came late, so Jaron's parents never bothered to get it registered. They are simple to understand and use, but single handedly managed to ruin every meaningful thing Jaron ever had in his life.
There is no better way of explaining it than saying he can create pools of lag by stacking things.
Two books piled together? Lag. Accidentally moved a pillow over another while sleeping? Lag. He can't turn it off, all he can do is dismantle the accidental lag pile and hope no one finds a problem with him.
The ways it ruined his life are many.
Jaron can't hold a stable job because he has yet to find one where he doesn't accidentally stack things together.
He will not talk about the time he tried to get a job at Mcdonalds, who would know making hamburgers could go so bad?
And he may be used to the jerky movements and numb limbs that come from the constantly random spikes of lag, but mostly people don't . There is a reason his best friends are a villain and an ex hero turned villain. It's hard to find people who want to be around him when it's not out of necessity.
And he is fine with it, he truly is.
The only reason his and Bacon’s situationship started was because Jaron lagged the building he lives so much and for so many years that the entire street became classified as a natural lag danger zone (which is incorrect, there is nothing natural about Jaron's lag, not that he will correct local authorities, it made his rent really cheap) making almost everyone move out. A phantom apartment building people don't come close to is perfect for someone trying to lay low.
Bacon needed a safe space, and Jaron accidentally made one, same goes for Planet. They didn't stay because of Jaron, they stayed because of the safety his power brings, which is- a change of some sorts. Not a bad one, just a strange one.
Jaron remembers a time before, where he had what he could call meaningful relationships. You don't realize how much you value something until you lose it.
He has passed by the stages of grief, he has let go of his stupid feelings in the matter years ago. But Bacon and Planet made him think about it. And when Jaron thinks about stuff is when he is prone to stupidity.
It's 1am and his insomnia has hit him again. Instead of his bed, in his apartment with Bacon and Planet, Jaron is standing on a rooftop.
It's a freezing night, he shivers, hugging himself and cursing, realizing his thrifted overcoat isn't that good at keeping the cold air out, principally when he is so highground. A breeze hits him full force, he holds the hat on his head, glaring, annoyed at the sky for almost stealing his good looks.
He stands on the edge of the building, looking at the hero tower. He doesn't live anywhere near here, his streets aren't that well taken care of, and you would be really lucky- or unlucky, if you saw a hero patrolling the place, he took a train to get there, he had no reason to be there. But Rek does.
And Rek isn't answering his messages, -he hasn't been answering his messages for years now- and Jaron is tired of waiting, tired of being angry and resigned. So if Rek will not go after Jaron, he will make him.
Rek has a sixth sense for sensing environmental danger, or the so called ‘traps’ as Rek would call them
A funny thing about Rek's powers that used to amuse Jaron to no end is that it accidentally made Rek very prone to just know when Jaron was around. It used to be funny. Jaron never thought he would use it to attract Rek like this.
If he won’t answer his phone, he will answer the call of ‘this is probably a bomb’ going off on a random rooftop.
Jaron sighs, looking at the tower one more time.
“It's worth a try.” He whispers. It's a stupid idea, but after what he learned through Planet and Bacon, he has to check.
Of all the ways he can generate lag, Jaron wouldn't be shy to answer that rocks are his favorite. They come in many shapes and sizes, they are free if you know where to look and he can throw them at people if they get mad at him.
His pockets are full of pebbles and he knows exactly what he needs to do.
Stack, stack, stack.
He can feel the familiar sensation of his limbs going numb, the world turving and spiking, the lag building at each rock he puts at the side of another. He knows his original intent was just to make a tiny lag bomb to call Rek's attention, but he can't help the way his eyes fill with glee doing it, a laugh bubbles out of his throat and the sound comes in delay.
He never truly understood why, but there is a type of peace Jaron can only find amidst the spikes of lags. Perhaps he is in fact the freak everyone thinks he is.
“You, stop right there!”
And with that the moment was over, the voice is cold, slightly laggy, it's painfully familiar and Jaron feels like he was dunked in a bucket of freezing water.
With one swipe of his hands the tower was on the ground, Jaron got what he wanted, he attracted Rek, and now lag would just make talking hard.
“ Heeeey , Rek! Long time no see.” Jaron turns in his heels looking at the place Rek occupies on the other side of the roof, his voice is awkward, he holds a chuckle that gets stuck on his throat when he finally sees Rek’s face.
He expected a lot of things seeing him for the first time in years, annoyance was one of them, perhaps even disgust, anger was something he was bracing himself for, part of him that was quickly crushed even expected perhaps a twinge of happiness, they used to mean something to each other, after all. What Jaron didn't expect was the way Rek's eyebrows scrunched together, the genuine confusion at being so casually addressed by him. It passes quickly, his eyes harshen, his features now unreadable with the mask that covers his lower face, he looks at Jaron like if seeing a bug on the street. He was not ready for the total indifference in Rek's visible features.
“The illegal use of powers is punishable with up to 6 months in prison.” Rek glares at the pebbles on the floor. “The use of it for disturbance of peace goes 3 to 6 years in prison, and mandatory power training for the use of the federation is also included in any of these charges.” He is tense, looking at Jaron like a hawk, but he doesn't approach, wary of Jaron's powers. “You are caught using your powers to cause a disturbance in a highly populated area, what do you have to say in your defense?” It is clear he is ready for a fight. Rek is treating Jaron like any other regular criminal and he isn't sure what to do about that.
“I- well. Rek I just want to talk.” Jaron's voice is soft, hurt. He puts his two hands up, so Rek can see he doesn't carry any weapons with him. “It's me, Jaron. Come on Parker, I know you know me, this isn't funny.”
There was nothing in years dealing with the rejection of his peers that could have prepared him for how Rek just didn't react.
“You got my civilian name from my public records, congrats. I am not falling for that.” The hero was still planted in place, wary of Jaron in a way he never was before. Skepticism drips from his voice. “I don't know what your game is here, and what you want from me, but you have the right to stay quiet, a lawyer will be provided to you at the station. Surrender now, and we will not have problems.”
For a second or two, Jaron thinks he is dreaming. Rek doesn't recognize him, doesn't recognize his powers, and is threatening to put Jaron in a Jail cell, for what? Breaking a stupid law trying to contact his ex best friend that apparently doesn't remember him? Jaron wants to ask who stuck that stick up his ass and if they have a working cell phone they could lend Rek.
But instead he just giggles, nervously, almost maniacally. He feels broken , he has been a living, breathing, broken mess for a long time now.
“Rek was your childhood nickname.” He points out. “Deciding a hero name spiked your anxiety, so you just panicked and submitted Rekrap in the forms.” He would know, he and Branzy watched the train wreck that was Rek applying for hero training. It was his dream . Jaron never dreamed it would end like this. “Parker, buddy. Come on, you are kidding me, right?” Tears pricked his eyes, this isn't true, he saw what they did to Planet, he heard his horror stories, he is still in denial about the fact Rek is in the same boat.
Rek tenses, clutching his head, but Jaron has seen all he needed to. He kinda regrets not telling Bacon or Planet he would be doing this, Planet's powers would make the next step of his plan way more easier.
That's not Rek, that's not his Rek, and there is nothing he can do about it… for now.
Jaron puts a hand on his pockets grabbing a handful of pebbles.
Rek may not remember him, but he isn’t dumb. His eyes widen, he raises a hand to his ear and only has time to shout a rushed “Jumper!” before everything exploded in lag.
Jaron held the pebbles on his hands, messing with them, creating pile after pile that were the same but fundamentally different from each other, the lag was so sudden it hurt , his limbs were jello, the world was a rush of constantly freezing and unfreezing reality, but he is used to it.
From the rooftop on his left he could see the hero JumperWho dashing in his direction, she stumbled on her own ghost block, catching herself, clearly expecting the lag, but not truly ready for it.
Rek was running in his direction, and Jaron knew he needed to go now.
He turned on his heels again, there was a reason he was standing so close to the edge before Rek came.
It's a stupid idea, something he hasn't done in years.
Jaron jumped from the roof.
He didn't see how Rek's eyes widened, how Jumper let go of her ghost block dropping in the air, a futile attempt to catch him.
But Jaron doesn't need to be caught, he inclined his body, his fall slow and janky enough for him to be able to kick the wall of the building, one, two, three, enough times he felt confident he wouldn't break his legs. Tricking the universe into stealing his momentum.
He landed on the ground at the side of a trash can, his legs caught him, some pebbles flew from his hands, and for all that he fell from the roof of a 5 floor building, his joints were strained, sore, but not broken beyond repair. So that's good in his book.
He took a second or two to catch his breath. When he jumped he wasn't really sure this would work, it had been way too long since he did something of sort.
His heart was beating wildly out of his chest, and the adrenaline plus a badly timed spike of lag, was enough to remind him he was still not done. He started running, acutely aware the heroes were still after him.
Now Jumper was coming from his right side, it was just his luck that Rek would be partnered with a hero made for chasing.
Jaron coming here may had been an impulsive decision, moved by his insomnia and by thoughts that have been tormenting him for years, but he isn’t stupid, he didn't know he was going to come here today, but he was planning this for some time now, he did his research.
JumperWho, a hero with a power focused in mobility, can jump into plain air with the use of “ghost blocks” that only she can see.
She was hot on his tail, Jaron's lag slowing her down just a bit, but not enough, he couldn't see Rek, he isn’t stupid to think he lost him yet, though. He needs to think and do something faster.
Running with lag is like running on a floor full of molasses while having your knees occasionally stabbed with knives. Jaron's only advantage is that he got used to the molasses and knives a long long time ago.
This isn't enough when the one after him looks to be clearly adapting to his lag spikes. Jumper is barely stumbling when chasing him, he ups his lag, gritting rocks under his fingers, feeling his powers taking hold of the entities on his hands. Why is she not reacting? He knows it hurts, he is hurting after all, how can someone not even flinch at the sensation?
His power isn't combative, isn't augmentative, it is an annoyance at its best and it can be used defensively if you stretch the notion of what you consider a good defense. Jaron was in way over his head when he decided he needed to see Rek.
A foot met his back, Jaron shouted, falling into the ground, his pebbles fell onto the ground, his lag was broken, his palms scraped against the pavement, Jumper's boot was making pressure on his spine, and Jaron is acutely aware how easily she could break his bones if she wanted. The hero was pinning him to the ground. This isn't good.
“Rek, Ro! Got them!” She shouted in what Jaron assumes is her communicator.
Panic flooded Jaron, this can't be happening, breathing was hard, he wheezed, his struggle only made the hero put more pressure on her hold. If he didn't break anything in the fall, this is the moment.
“I can take them for you, Jumper.”
Jaron tensed, the voice wasn't Rek's and obviously wasn't Jumper's. He remembers Jumper's voice. ‘Ro’ Roshambo, another hero he saw being partnered with Rek in the news.
A pair of hands twisted his arms behind his back, it hurt, he grunted with the strain put on his joints, Jumper took her foot off his back, and at least he could breath.
He saw feet coming into his peripheral vision, yellow and blue boots, making his situation way more real.
“Good job guys! You did so great! And we got the villain!” Rek sounded happy, smug and pleased. Not even to call him by the name. Villain, is that what he is? In the end, is that all he is for society?
And this was what broke the camel's back. Jaron started thrashing, trying to get rid of the hands holding his arms, if he could touch a single pebble, make a single stack, anything to get him out of there.
He doesn't want to go wherever Rek and his new friends want to put him in. He wants to go back home. Back to throwing insults at Bacon with Planet, back to discussing insignificant things with Bacon, while Planet watches, entertained by the forever banter. He wants to come up with a stupid idea (not like this one) just to have Planet and Bacon tell him he is an idiot, but to help him anyway, even if busy with their lives of villainy or however you prefer to call it.
You don't realize how much you value something until you lose it, and now Jaron just realized he may never go back home again.
The hands holding his arms became four, then five, then six, more hands, more fingers, holding him down, clutching his arms, pinning his legs, shoving his face against the floor, putting pressure on his shoulders so he stays in his place on the ground.
“Stop resisting.” Roshambo's voice came from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. “Jumper! Where are the power cuffs? I could accept a hand right now.” He snorted at his own joke, as Jaron kept trashing, panicking.
Roshambo, a hero made entirely of disembodied hands , there was no clear answer on the internet if he truly is just a bunch of hands, or if he has a true body somewhere.
Hand after hand, pinning him down, gloved fingers trapping him, it was way too much. Jumper approached him, he could hear the jingle of metal, the power handcuffs that Roshambo asked for.
He can't- this can't be the end.
Everything was a blur, he couldn't breathe, he couldn't move, he could only stare ahead, perhaps trying to get a last glimpse of Rek before he was shut in a cage for all eternity. Roshambo's hands were still shoving him against the ground.
Unfortunately with panic, comes the lack of care, comes the loss of control.
He saw the moment Rek realized what was going to happen, before even Jaron realized, he saw how the booted feet jumped, creating distance, movements ingrained in his brain, ready to run before a single thought passed in his head.
Jaron remembers a time where Rek would dismantle his piles a second after they were made, so fast to realize what Jaron did, even before he realized himself.
There were hands touching his arms, touching his legs, touching his face, all belonging to a single person, but then Jumper touched him, ready to seal his fate and everything went to hell.
A thing about Jaron, and about his powers that are more akin to a curse than a set of cool superpowers, is that he would really like everyone to believe that it only affects inanimate objects, that piling rocks and lagging the universe is the extent of all the damage he can do. An annoying power that can hurt you a bit depending on how sensitive you are to lag, but that's all.
What Jaron wouldn't want you to know is as he came to discover, being one himself, is that living beings are one of the best conduits for lag that there is.
One of Jaron's only saving graces is that, different from when it is with inanimate objects, lagging living, breathing things comes with an on/off switch. Probably a way of protecting himself against what happens when something that feels becomes a conduit to one of the most disgraceful phenomenons in the universe.
Jaron is used to lag. He is used to the stabbing feeling, the stuttering of reality, being spliced and replaced and back to the same place again and again, he is used to his limbs being made of jello and lead at the same time. There is a difference between getting used to the sparks of a thunder and being turned into a damned lighting rod.
Jaron screamed. Pain, horrible, white hot pain, consumed his entire being. The universe using him as a twisted conduit, lag filled the streets, lag filled the sky, his voice distorted, coming out in delay, his screaming just a bit too far from where his diaphragm is.
Jumper, who was at his back, joined his screaming symphony, instead of the laggy delay that was Jaron's, hers came in fast and short bursts, like sped up audio coming from a human made of flesh and bones.
Whatever was holding her from feeling the pain of the lag earlier was clearly not ready for what Jaron was able to do.
Hands started falling from the sky, Roshambo clearly losing control over them, the hands holding Jaron convulsed, letting him go, there was no screaming coming from Roshambo. Jaron wondered if each hand counted as an individual stackable item, if Roshambo was able to feel each of them like a different source of lag. Like a different source of pain.
Quick question; would you prefer to die impaled by a sword, or pierced by ten thousand sewing needles?
It was like a knife cutting his guts open, bleeding his eyes dry as the sky raised its light to him for the last time. Death would be kinder than this .
Jaron wasn't a person anymore, he wasn't a being as much as he was a molecule, he was the universe, breathing and living, stuttering as it failed to work properly. He was the ant and the boot. He transcended pain and humanity and became something else.
He was reminded he wasn't separated from every other thing, as he screamed for an infinity of years. Everything was too much as he became nothing.
Is this how the pebbles felt?
Something slammed into him, Jumper was thrown off his back, and so were most of Roshambo's hands.
The lag came to a stuttering end.
And Jaron was a person again, breathing, wheezing, he was glad he didn't eat anything before going there as he dry heaved on the floor.
But for all that he wanted to slump on the floor and pass out, he was overthrown by an even stronger feeling. He wants to go home.
One hand, and then another, limbs made of lead, and joints made of jello, Jaron pushed himself up, legs wobbling in a dangerous way, he could fall at any moment, he refused to. He turned his head, looking behind his back. There were hands scattered in the alley, some twitching, still reacting to the pain, still alive. - Good, this isn't the day he killed a man. - Rek was kneeling by Jumper, checking her vitals. He glared at Jaron, by his eyes alone Jaron could see he wasn't doing so great, being so close to it but also being the one who dismantled the living breathing pile of lag.
This is his moment, he can run.
No words were traded, no more blank unrecognizable stares were shared. Jaron turned his back to Rek, he put one leg after another, stumbling, walking, running .
Rek didn't pursue him, too occupied with his fallen friends.
It didn't hurt, it didn't sting. If he repeats it enough times he may as well believe it.
The rest of his night was a blur. Jaron somehow got to the metro, he blinked and the metro turned onto the streets close to his apartment, blinking lights and roads that have seen better days, and then, he was home . An apartment that stunk with lag and jankiness after years of abuse in a way Jaron doesn't even need to move a finger anymore to make it happen.
It was only there, standing in the middle of their living room, Bacon and Planet sleeping in their respectives bedrooms, unaware of the events which just happened, that Jaron truly let everything sink in.
His legs gave out under his body, and he didn't even try to get up off the ground after that.
He just ruined his own life.
Jaron just ruined his life in the most stupid and unnecessary way.
He thought about Rek; who looked at his face without a semblance of recognition.
About Planet; who used to be in the same place as Rek. A respected hero, adored by everyone. A husk of himself.
About Bacon; the so feared villain. Number one enemy. The one who discovered the whole scheme going on with the heroes. The one who is working so hard to fix everything. The one who saved Planet.
He put a hand on his face. Looking at the moldy ceiling between the gaps of his fingers.
Yeah, Jaron. The villain.
He laughed.
It's not like he had anything better going on for him in life, anyway. May as well embrace it.
He will tell the news to Bacon and Planet in the morning. For now, he will just let himself pass out on the floor.
He will save Rek. Even if he needs to become a villain for it.
He knows Rek, the true one , would do the same for him in a blink of an eye, after all.