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“GHOST, ON YOUR LEFT-”
Ranboo rolled to the right without hesitation, ducking just in time to miss the laser beam that shot over his head. Seriously?? Laser beam eyes? Whoever they were fighting was basically destined to be a Villain. Or they could’ve been a Hero, he supposed, it wasn’t good to put people in boxe-
“FOXTROT, DUCK-!”
His fellow Vigilante did just that, narrowly missing being crispy fried by the Villain stalking towards them. Scorch marks scarred the stone underneath him, and if Ranboo was the sort of person to curse, he would’ve sounded like a particularly frustrated sailor. Instead, he drew back behind the edge of a building, panting hard as he caught his breath. He and Foxtrot were supposed to be on a casual patrol, so backup was still a few minutes away, none of them having expected a Villain to make their debut right on their patrol path.
“Have we got a game plan?” huffed Foxtrot, the ginger bent almost in half as he rounded the corner.
“Uh- duck? I’ve already called in for help, Veer and Echo are on their way, Mozzie and Task are helping Doc with the burn victims from the bombing earlier.”
Ranboo didn’t envy his roommates for that last assignment - he’d seen the aftermath of fallen buildings before, and it never got easier to see bloodied blobs that used to be people, melded with concrete and steel.
When he first approached Doc and told her he wanted to be a Vigilante, he wasn’t quite sure what he’d been expecting - a lot more action, certainly, leaping around the rooftops and fighting Villains like the ones he saw almost every time he was out after dark. A good chunk of the city's Vigilantes came from Doc’s people - who knew that a bunch of kids failed by the system and taken in by an extremely well known Vigilante would decide to follow in her footsteps to defend the parts of the city that the Heroes weren’t paid enough to care about?
Okay that was mean. Ranboo knew it wasn’t really the Heroes’ fault (mostly), that they were ordered to patrol the richer areas more often. It was the corrupt upper classes who funded them, and the government who controlled their actions, who were responsible for neglecting the poorer districts of the city. But still, no matter who was to blame for it, there was a space in the slums that if the Vigilantes didn’t fill, the Villains would, and everyone would rather a cheeky Vigilante who was a little reckless with their ice powers than a human trafficking ring to be running downtown.
But as it turned out, new Vigilantes were kept far away from actual fights - since Ranboo had started training alongside his new teammates, he'd spent most of his time walking people home at night and getting cats out of trees, with the occasional mugger to break up the monotony.
They tended to patrol in pairs - Ranboo usually ended up with Foxtrot, since the other four had known each other before they moved in together. Everyone was mostly very nice, if a little louder than he was used to, and he got on well enough just by virtue of being quiet and non-argumentative. He knew that they whispered about him sometimes - and he couldn't blame them, he knew there were bits about himself that didn't quite make sense without context: things he kept hidden, his past, his present, where he went during the day and late into the night, why he was semi-friendly with a handful of Villains - why Doc paid him just that tiny bit extra attention-
(He knew Veer resented that especially. The boy was a Healer as well - not nearly as strong as Doc, although few were - and he aspired greatly to be her successor. He knew it was unfair - Doc did her best to divide her attention equally, checking in on all her Vigilantes, insisting she healed everything from bruises to paper cuts, using her few precious hours off to sit and eat dinner with them and listen to them talk, but she did favour him over his roommates, despite having done nothing to earn the extra attention, and it grated on Veer. Ranboo had no desire to take over Doc's position when she finally retired, but Veer thought he did, and that was all that was needed for the resentment to fester.)
But he digressed. As he was saying, patrols were usually quiet, so to not only be facing off against a Villain, but a mid-tier one, was unusual. In eight months, he'd fought maybe five or six minor Villains, although he'd certainly run into more than that, and had promptly run for the hills as they'd been ordered to do. (He’d actually ran into Shriek one night - literally ran into him, both of them turning a corner in an abandoned set of warehouses at the same time. Ranboo had managed to knock him flat on his arse, and had been apologising frantically before he even registered who it was he was helping up. It had taken a good minute to clock that- holy heavens this was a Syndicate leader, and for him to make a break for it, but he could’ve sworn he heard the man laugh as he bolted, slapping his hands hurriedly over his ears.)
Doc had laughed her ass off when he told her about this particular incident, and had immediately called up Poker to give the man more blackmail because she was a horrible, horrible person.
Back on the street, the zap of lasers and the scorch marks on the stone must have been enough to convince a bystander to call it in to the Heroes, and Ranboo whipped his head to the side as sirens sounded in the distance, getting steadily closer to where they were trying to push the Villain back against a wall.
"Foxtrot-"
"I hear them," said the fox hybrid grimly, ears twitching back, "We should probably leave before-"
"Ghost! Foxtrot! Psst!"
Ranboo grinned as he turned around, although the expression was hidden under his mask, "Echo!" he said, turning around just in time to catch the falling girl as she stepped off the edge of the building, "One day I'm not going to catch you in time," he huffed, setting her down carefully before spinning around just in time to deflect another laser, the Villain stalking back forward after having been sent sprawling to the ground by Foxtrot moments before.
"Then I'll just land on you instead. Boom, human cushioning pad."
"More like a bone pad," said Veer, hopping carefully down from the roof, "Boo has elbows like razors."
As usual, Ranboo had to fight not to react to the name - he knew that they'd picked it up from Doc, and that they assumed it was a derivative from Ghost, but it still felt like they somehow knew his actual name, which would be endlessly bad.
"Yeah, well- DUCK!"
They barely got down in time, the laser scorching the bricks where their heads were.
"NOW I HAVE YOU, PESKY VIGILANTES!" cackled the Villain, sounding like if a knock off Wicked Witch of the West stumbled into a Scooby Doo episode, "STAY STILL SO I CAN GET YOU-"
Of course, since the four of them weren't utter idiots, they ran for their lives. The Heroes were almost there anyway, and they'd only run the risk of getting arrested if they stayed.
All of a sudden, Veer stopped dead in his tracks. "My staff!" he exclaimed, looking panicked, "I think I dropped it when he fired at us-"
It was a split second decision for Ranboo to push Foxtrot and Echo forward, "You guys go," he commanded, "I'll stay with Veer and we'll go get his staff."
With Heroes on the alert and Villains on the prowl, looking for opportunities in the chaos, it was too dangerous for Veer to go unarmed tonight, and it wouldn't take more than a few minutes to go back and scoop it up.
"Where exactly did you drop it?" Ranboo asked as they perched on the ledge of a rooftop, watching the Villain get dragged away kicking and screaming by a Hero who had the 'dead inside and my manager is homophobic' retail worker look on her face, the man apparently not having been prepared to fight anyone who wasn't a teenager.
"Just over there-" Veer pointed down into the alleyway, which was shrouded in darkness.
Ranboo squinted, "I can't see it- maybe we should get a closer look?"
Veer stayed silent.
"Veer? I said-"
"I heard what you said." replied the man quietly, with an odd inflection in his voice. "I think that's a wonderful idea. Go get a closer look, Boo."
And then a hand was planted solidly in his back, and Ranboo was tumbling down, down, down, onto the cold concrete below. There was an explosion in his mind, of light and pain, an unpleasantly fleshy thump as his head smacked into the ground below, and a strange heat was flooding the stone, the wetness doing nothing to cool the streaks of fire along his body.
Ranboo was vaguely aware of someone shouting, and being tugged upright by rough hands, but the lights were too bright, and the world was too loud, and it was a relief to sink into the dark calm of his own mind, and drift into unconsciousness.
-0-0-0-0-0-
"Kid?"
Ranboo's attention snapped upwards, looking sheepishly up at Teagon, "Sorry… could you repeat that?" he asked quietly, pressing himself further into the man's side.
Teagon pursed his lips, but the spark of irritation in his eyes faded, and one large hand came up to stroke Ranboo's hair. "I asked if you had everything?"
He nodded, patting the duffel bag that contained all his worldly possessions (90% of which had been donated from Teagon, of course), "I've got everything."
"Good boy." nodded Teagon, and Ranboo let himself relish in the last few moments of contact before he pulled away, Teagon leading him into an unfamiliar apartment building. He sighed heavily at the 'broken' sign on the elevator, before taking the bag from Ranboo and ushering him up the stairs.
The door they knocked on was identical to the others along the corridor, and Ranboo shuffled nervously behind the taller man as they waited for it to open. All Teagon had told him was that he knew someone who would give him a proper place to stay, and that she was very nice. (He very much got the sense that Teagon did not like this person, and that the only reason he'd been that polite about her was Kristen standing in the corner of the room Looking at him.)
"Hi."
The voice was female and flat, with the strangest mix of an Upper and a Lower City accent.
"I'm assuming this is the kid? Or are you just picking them up as you go, now?"
"Watch your mouth, girlie."
The woman - girl? - snorted, "Sure thing, big guy. Give me the kid."
Teagon's grip on Ranboo's wrist tightened, and he held back a pained gasp as he was tugged closer to the man's side.
"You're not as irreplaceable as you think, girlie," he taunted lowly, "You're alive because we have a use for you. Do you understand?"
Ranboo looked up then, just in time to see the woman roll her eyes. She was almost exactly his height, with short blonde hair and sharp blue eyes, and a sardonic smirk on her face.
"Yeah, yeah, I got the whole rundown from about four different people- believe it or not, I know how to look after a kid. He'll be safe here."
"He better be." Teagon bit out, before maneuvering Ranboo in front of him, facing the woman. He blinked up nervously, wanting nothing more than to press back into Teagon's familiar warmth, but being propelled forwards instead.
"This is Ranboo," Teagon introduced shortly. "Kid, this is-"
—
"- Doc?"
"Yeah Boo?"
The blonde rocked back on her chair as she looked over to where Ranboo was entering the room, bag slung over his shoulder.
"There you are!" he said brightly, perching on the edge of the kitchen table where Doc was eating a bowl of cereal at three am, "Poker wanted to know if you wanted to go get smoothies?"
The blonde shrugged, standing up to dump her bowl in the sink, "Sure, why not? You coming too?"
Ranboo nodded eagerly - when he'd first been introduced to Poker, over a year ago, he'd been nervous to say the least. The man was a known terrorist, member of the Syndicate, a murderer of the highest caliber - everything he feared. He'd been understandably nervous when Doc had told him that the man stopped by frequently - and confused, as well: Doc was notorious for hating the Syndicate, even if she continued to heal them (for a hefty price tag, of course); it made no sense for her to allow one of them in her home.
But Ranboo had understood once he'd met Poker - the man was charming, but not oily, convincing, but not sleazy. He was easy to get along with, easy to laugh with, and in a matter of hours, Ranboo probably would've jumped off a cliff if he'd gone first. Doc wasn't the sort to have many close friends - or, uh, any, really - but he fully understood why she chose Poker as one of them. It was easy to forget all the awful things he did when he had an arm around your shoulder and a grin on his lips.
Poker was waiting for them on the rooftop when they arrived, two smoothies on the ledge beside him, and a third in his hand.
"Boo!" he exclaimed, grinning, "You managed to drag our resident recluse out into the open, then?"
Ranboo grinned back as he took the cup, taking a sip of what was indeed his favourite smoothie - banana, strawberry and coconut. "She came willingly once she learnt smoothies were involved. Bribery is always effective."
Doc scowled playfully, accepting her own drink, "Excuse you, I have the highest morals and standards, I will not stand for this slander- oooh you got me a new one? Blueberry and-?"
"Blueberry, apricot and manuka honey they imported in."
"… bribery is effective when manuka honey is involved."
Poker tipped his head back as he laughed, lifting both of his arms so they could settle underneath them. Ranboo leaned into the warmth chest, Poker's arm tucking carefully around him, pulling him closer. He really should be asleep by this time, but he didn't have anywhere to be until tomorrow afternoon, so he should be able to sleep in for the morning.
"Doc?" he asked quietly, stifling a yawn with a sip of his smoothie, "I was wondering…"
"Yeah Boo?"
"What does it take to be a-"
—
"-vigilante? You're a vigilante?"
Ranboo frowned, shuffling his feet as he he stared at the opposite wall, the boy in front of him wheezing with laughter.
"Yeah." he said shortly, "I'm a Vigilante."
"And Doc's definitely seen you in all your-" the boy (Viren? Veeren? Veer?) gestured to Ranboo, "Scrawny fish-bone-ness? You look like you'd fall over in a strong gust of wind, dude."
Ranboo tucked his hands further into his pockets, trying his best not to look upset. He knew he was a little scrawny, a little weak, but Doc had said that shouldn't matter too much, that he would built up some muscle and strength in training, and he could adopt a fighting style other than brawling. He'd been hoping for a growth spurt for a while now, as well, to boost him just a little above the 5"9 he'd settled at, but he had a sneaking suspicion that it wasn't going to come.
It didn't bother him, his skinniness - Teagon liked it, always praising how delicate he was, always delighting in how easily he could cart Ranboo around, how far up Ranboo had to crane his head to him in the face - but being underestimated, being judged did bother him.
"I'm strong enough," he muttered, "Plus Doc said it didn't matter if I wasn't the best hands on fighter, that I could use long range-"
The boy - Ranboo was sure his name was Veer - rolled his eyes, "I'm sure she said that. Whatever, dude, it's not my fault if you get crushed because you're like the size of a toddler. What's your name again?"
Ranboo wrapped his arms around his waist, "Ghost. My name's Ghost."
—
"- now, when we first looked you up, we were awfully surprised to have not found a single match in our database, which is of course one of the most thorough in the world. As far as the system was concerned, you didn't exist, which is highly unusual when working with lower level criminals."
Ranboo blinked to himself as he startled awake again, yawning against the temptation to nod his head off on the frankly comfortable bed he was sat cross legged on in the small, white cell. He wasn't sure how long he'd been there - he'd paced back and forth for at least a few hours between waking up here, and the arrival of the interrogator, who had introduced himself as Jared Wilkins, like that was supposed to mean something to Ranboo - but he was beginning to tire, now, and would've killed for a nap.
"In fact, it was Captain Cyclone herself-" Jared motioned to the masked Hero sat next to him, who had remained a silent observer so far, "Who theorised that we might be looking in the wrong area entirely. Maybe, we were looking for an alive criminal, when we should be looking for a dead one. I have no idea how you managed to falsify the records, but Ranboo Belova was a hard person to find."
Ranboo fought the urge to snort. He hadn't had to falsify anything - the system had done that all by itself, in its usual wonderful way of letting the poorest of its citizens slip right through the cracks and into the abyss.
"So, Ranboo," said Jared, crossing his legs, "You know the deal here. Vigilantism carries a penalty of up to fifteen years jail time, which you'll be tried as an adult for, and which I really doubt you wish to happen. Fifteen years is a long time, kid, twice your life up to now. But no matter what lies they've fed you during the radicalisation process-"
Captain Cyclone let out a small noise then, almost a huff.
"- I can assure you we're not some heartless monsters. We want to help you, but you need to help us first. All we want, are some names, some addresses, maybe a few power forms to give our teams the best shot at keeping everyone here safe- You have my word, that if you can do this, I'll be personally pushing for the lightest possible sentence."
Jared leaned forward, steepling his fingers, and stared hard at Ranboo. Ranboo blinked back like a nervous owl.
"Uh- I'm really sorry," he said, rubbing the back of his neck, "But uh- I don't think I can do that. See, I'd love not to go to jail, but also I'd hurt a lot of people doing that, and-"
Jared's face twisted in a moment's anger, before clearing again, "Look kid," he said, "I know you're scared of them - they're a powerful group, and the Doctor is known to have a fearsome temper, but I can guarantee you safety from any revenge plots you fear. This is a tit for tat situation - you help us protect the citizens of this City, and we'll protect you."
Ranboo fought the urge to giggle. Protect the City? What a joke. If they protected the City, then there would be no need for Vigilante's to even exist - and yet they somehow believed he'd give up his friends, his family, those who actually protected the City, just to save himself.
(He couldn't lie and say a part of him didn't want to. Jared was right in one aspect - fifteen years was a long time, and there was people and things he couldn't leave behind. Teagon would be distraught if Ranboo just- disappeared. He couldn't do that to him)
"I'm not worried about Doc and the others, they'd understand, even if I did rat everyone out, it's more the concept of betraying everyone I care about that bothers me."
"Your loyalty is admirable, Ranboo, but blind loyalty to dangerous individuals such as the Doctor-"
"Wilkins, I believe that is enough. I have a strong suspicion that your line of questioning will serve us no further today. Mr Belova clearly has a strong set of morals that he follows, and it would be a disservice to try and trick him out of them. You may leave, now, inform the guards I'll be a while longer."
"But- but the protocol-"
Captain Cyclone cut off the man's spluttering, and pointed towards the door. "Goodbye Mr Wilkins. I'll update the Warden myself later. I'm certain he'll understand."
Jared continued to splutter for a moment, before he apparently realised the futility of his actions, and backed down, grumbling to himself as he picked up his bags and left.
Captain Cyclone waited until his footsteps down the corridor had quietened, before she spoke again.
"You know, Mr Belova, you are either one of the bravest and most upstanding young man I've met, or you have a fantastic poker face, and are playing this entire situation like a fiddle. Do you want to make a guess to what direction I'm leaning?"
"Uh- it would be nice if you thought I was nice?"
Captain Cylone's face was still for a moment longer, before she smiled under her mask, lips twitching upright. "Currently, yes, I'm leaning that way. You seem to care for the Doctor, which unlike most of my coworkers, I can understand."
"You- do?"
The woman nodded, "I've met Doc more than once. She's brusque, certainly, but also one of the most kind hearted people I've ever met, and nothing like the hardened criminal Mr Wilkins was making her out to be. From experience, therefore, the majority of her Vigilantes are similar. She doesn't suffer fools or bullies, and in fact on occasion, she's turned over the of those few in her ranks who slip past the initial filters to me. From what I've seen of you so far, combined with what I know of her practices, you are almost certainly one of the higher caliber of people in this world: people who truly want to help, who want to make a difference in the world. Who want to do good. I may, of course, be entirely wrong, and you could be a delinquent who wishes to watch everything burn, but I'm rather hoping I'm right. What do you say?"
"Uh- I mean- I try my best do to help people, it's harder than I thought it would be, but I'm getting there."
Captain Cyclone nodded, a faint smile playing in the mouth gap in her mask, "I believe you. Now- as to what I can do here, I'm afraid I'm rather limited. You are still a Vigilante, which does unfortunately break the law, so as much as I would personally like to let you go with a warning, I just can't do that. What I can do, however, is have another chat with the Warden to see what we can cook up between the two of us. I have an idea, but it really depends on whether he has the same vision as me."
Ranboo nodded slowly, chewing on his bottom lip. "That's- thank you, Captain," he murmured, "I appreciate it."
"No worries," smiled the woman, "Now- is there anything I can do for you? Anything you need, want, specific diets or environment while you're in here-?"
Ranboo perked up, "Uh- could I possibly get my glasses back? And the lights lowered or off, if possible. My eyes are very sensitive, and it's giving me a headache. Also- if it's not too much trouble, just like a medical mask or something? And some hand sanitiser. My immune system is kinda trash, and I really don't want to get sick."
"You have a weak immune system? It wasn't flagged on your profile…"
"I mean, I don't know if it's an official thing - my parents couldn't exactly afford to go to the doctors unless it was life and death… I have meds, usually, that help keep me healthy, but obviously I can't get them in here…"
The Captain's mouth twisted in concern, "You're on medication? What type? I can see about getting it for you-"
Ranboo scratched the back of his neck sheepishly, "I don't uh- actually know what they're called? My- a friend gets them for me. He's married to a doctor, since obviously I couldn't just rock up to a hospital. Being uh- legally dead and all."
Well it wasn't quite a lie. Phil did have medical training, he just didn't have the PhD to match. And Ranboo was fairly certain Teagon hadn't cleared the various pills he took with him, but it was fine, because Ranboo trusted Teagon, and trust meant doing what he was told and not questioning it.
Captain Cyclone gave him an odd look, "You- You know what? We are going to unpack that later. For now, I'm going to get your glasses, a mask and some lowered lights, and probably some food while we're at it, and I'll come see you tomorrow. Sound good?"
Ranboo nodded, finally dropping his shoulders in relief. It seemed his situation wasn't as hopeless as he'd thought. Maybe he'd stand a decent chance of getting out of this-
"Thank you Captain." he said, "I- I appreciate it. You didn't have to help."
The smile he received in return, could only be described as sad. "Yes, yes I did. I'll see you later, Ranboo. Sleep well."
And then he was alone.
-0-0-0-0-0-
Considering where he was, Ranboo did get a rather good nights sleep. He was woken up every so often by the guards shifting round, or by a commotion from another cell, but mostly it was peaceful, with the lights turned right down, and nice blankets and everything. He'd slept in far worse places in the last eight years or so - this didn't even make the top ten.
It was still dark when they came for him.
Four guards, all heavily armed, barging into his cell, all guns and cuffs and gruff orders.
Ranboo was dazed as they grabbed him, the power-restraining cuffs that were sat on his wrists like heavy bracelets shoved behind his back and connected, creating possibly the most uncomfortable high-tech handcuffs known to man, as he was dragged out of the cell.
He was thankful that he'd had both his mask and his glasses already on his face when they came, as they allowed precisely no time to pass before shuffling him out into the corridor, forming a square to guard him as they went.
Any time he went a little too slow, a gun would poke into his back, and he'd flinch, eyes wide and nervous. He hated not being able to see who was behind him, and knowing that they were also armed was nerve-wracking.
The door they entered was unassuming, a plain black with a silver handle, but Ranboo was ushered inside like it was the most top secret bunker they owned.
"Thank you for- Jesus fucking Christ- I said escort him, not drag him out of bed!" Captain Cyclone's voice was scolding and harsh, and Ranboo blinked as she appeared seemingly from nowhere to reprimand the guards.
"My apologies ma'am, but it's protocol-"
"Protocol can-"
"Can do something non-violent, which doesn't go against Hero policy, especially in front of your boss."
Ranboo jumped slightly at the second voice in the room, a far lower register: almost a growl, really.
"You may leave us." ordered the second voice, and the four guards behind Ranboo exited very swiftly indeed. The albino blinked in confusion, still half-dazed and groggy.
"Ranboo Belova." the voice was monotone, "Take a seat."
"You're the Warden."
"Indeed. You still haven't taken a seat."
Ranboo stirred himself out of the general state of shock he seemed to be in, and hurried to do as he was told. However, almost as soon as he'd sat himself down in the chair (thankfully with the power cuffs separated back into the two bracelets) he found himself tied rather securely to it. There was a moment of panic as the metal straps shot out, pinning him effectively to the chair, wrists, ankles and waist strapped in, and he thrashed on instinct.
"Was that really necessary? I told you he's been entirely peaceful-"
"Peaceful or not, he's a criminal. Strictly speaking he should be back in his cell, and it's only your persuasive skills that mean he's out."
Captain Cyclone huffed to herself, but didn't respond.
"Ranboo Belova." repeated the Warden, as Ranboo shook slightly in the chair, "Presumed dead for seven years. And Ghost, illegal Vigilante for one. You and your team have been giving us the run around for quite a while, now. But-" he paused, "Unfortunately I must agree with Captain Cyclone, that compared to other groups out there, you've been consistently peaceful when possible, and have caused the least amount of property damage we've seen in quite a while, which is the only reason I'm entertaining her request."
"That, and we're running low on recruits again, which makes you look bad."
Even through the mask, Ranboo could feel the burning look that Warden gave Captain Cyclone.
"What the Captain means to say, is that we have a vacancy we feel you'll be able to fill. As you know, being a Hero is dangerous work, being the front lines between order and anarchy was never going to be an easy job. As much as many youth dream of joining our ranks, few will actually qualify to do so. However-"
"What he's saying, Ranboo," cut in Captain Cyclone, "Is that because you're a Vigilante already, it's being assumed you'll pass our initial qualifications, and your prior experience will give you a leg up on the HIT ladder. It's dangerous work, as he said, and far less glamorous than the news would have you believe, but then again, as is simply existing in the Lower City."
"I- you want me to-?"
Captain Cyclone nodded, "We'd like to recruit you to the program. Under my mentorship."
"And- if I say no?"
The Warden cut in, cold and calm, "Then you'll spend the next fifteen years in a jail cell. Vigilantes are tried as adults, and as such you'll serve the full sentence."
Ranboo went white. Whiter.
"O-kay."
Warden looked at him, "Is that an agreement?"
Ranboo looked at him fearfully, "I don't wanna go to jail… but I'm not telling you about the others, either. So if being one of your Heroes means that-"
"I'm afraid-"
"That that will be no issue."
Warden sighed. Captain Cyclone grinned.
"The changeover is effective as soon as you've signed the contract, Ranboo," she continued, "Read it over carefully, please, and you're allowed to negotiate, but don't expect us to cater to everything."
Ranboo felt sick as a sheaf of papers was pushed over to him, and the wrist cuffs unlocked. He- he was going to betray everything they stood for. Well- not everything, since he wasn't exactly going to start murdering people, but he was selling his soul on a contract to the people who had ruined his life in the first place.
He scanned the document over - there were a lot of secrecy clauses, a lot of rules, and a bunch of figures that he didn't quite understand, but was something to do with his salary.
The contract was for five years, but he'd expected something along those lines. Nothing really jumped out at him as he read through, although he wasn't a fan of all the rules that basically joined together to say 'you have no privacy and you never will'.
And then he got to the bit about housing arrangements.
"I can't stay here."
It was the first he'd spoken in a good twenty minutes, and both Heroes looked up sharply from the phones they'd been tapping on.
"What do you mean?" asked Captain Cyclone carefully, "Ranboo, you know you can't stay with your old group, right? It'll be dangerous, for one, not to mention illegal. And you don't have any other family-"
"I have a- A friend." Ranboo stumbled over his words. Teagon wasn't just a friend, Teagon was everything. But he wasn't quite sure how to put that in words, and as such 'friend' would have to do. "He's like a teacher, really. And I stay with him and his family a lot. If I stay here, they'd worry about me. And they'd come looking for me, and the clause up here says I'm not supposed to have anyone know that I'm a HIT because it could compromise me, and they'd get really worried and probably a bit cross because I can't explain why I won't stay at their house anymore and-"
"Hey- hey, kid you're alright, breathe for me, yeah?"
Ranboo did as he was told instinctively, sucking in a breath, cutting off his ramble. "Sorry." he said softly, hunching down in the chair.
Captain Cyclone was half reaching out across the table, and even Warden had leaned forward as he focused on calming himself down, his hands forming knots on his lap.
"It's alright, Ranboo," said the woman, equally soft, "I- didn't realise it was such a big deal to you. I'm sure we can find something to work around it, hmm? A compromise to reach. Is there anything else you don't agree with on the contract?"
Ranboo bit his lip. Looked at the ground. There was a lot he didn't like on the contract.
How long it was for. The fact they could legally seize and search all his possessions whenever they liked. The trackers. But he'd already spoken out enough already, he couldn't risk making them angrier.
"No." he said quietly, chewing on his lip properly now.
Captain Cyclone looked unconvinced, but before she had the chance to say anything, Warden was speaking again.
"Accommodations are a difficult one, I'm afraid, since you're a criminal and all. However- if your main residence is the Tower, you notify someone whenever you're leaving and provide a reason and a time frame, and you notify once again if plans change, then in combination with the tracker, I am willing to allow you the opportunity to have minimal freedoms. You're required to spend at least four nights a week here, and never in the company of your old group, but I can't foresee any arguments from the Board if I explain it's to help keep your integrity."
Ranboo perked up immediately, his shoulders loosing a little of the tension. It wasn't what he'd wanted, really, but it was probably the best he was going to get.
Warden scribbled a note in the margins of the papers, "I'll have these reprinted with the adjustments, and then you can sign them, and we'll get you settled in. What would you like to be addressed as within the Tower?"
He looked expectantly at Ranboo, head tilted to the side.
"Ghost. I'm still Ghost."
Warden sighed. "Very well. Welcome on board, Ghost. Don't give me a reason to throw you in Pandora's Vault."
-0-0-0-0-0-
Once the papers were signed, Ranboo rather feeling like Faustus signing his soul away to the devil, everything moved rather quickly. Warden disappeared somewhere along the way, leaving it just him and Captain Cyclone moving through the building, the woman resting a guiding hand on his shoulder that he did his best not to flinch away from.
First stop was apparently the medical center, where he was introduced rapidly to a handful of Healers who he had no hope of remembering their names, but who all apparently knew him. According to Captain Cyclone - who had insisted he call her Puffy, if he was to be her mentee - he'd been taken there almost as soon as they'd brought him in, to patch up the various wounds and the nasty concussion he'd gotten when he'd fallen off the roof.
He bit his tongue at that part. Fallen. Sure.
They weren't as good as Doc, was the first thing he noticed, in terms of sheer power, but they were far more organised, the clinic working like a ship, people moving briskly around the room, all seeming to know exactly what they were doing without having to talk about it first. Doc's clinic was- chaos, usually. She technically had an actual clinic, a building where she would bring anyone with an appointment, but her usual place was on battlefield, pulling people out of the wreckage, dragging them back to the makeshift white tent that marked her as a healer.
Doc's power was- well it was a little bit messy. Golden ichor dripping from her fingers, smeared across wounds, knitting bone and flesh and skin back into people, reattaching limbs, healing severed connections, shoving organs back into place and then shoving more gold down your throat to clear any internal injuries and prevent infection - the general rule of thumb was, if you were alive, Doc could fix you.
It didn't work for everything, of course - Ranboo had seen too many people propping up a clammy-fleshed body, desperation in their eyes, hope that maybe Doc could fix them too. And then there were the sick - she could fight off infections, but she could only relieve a failing organ. Could reconnect a severed artery, but couldn't destroy a tumour, no matter how sorely she wanted to. And nothing could halt the passage of time. He'd seen countless greying business quite literally throwing money at her to help them, to stave off the steady approach of death, tapping his scythe in time with a clock, only for her to look at them with pitying eyes and tell them to apologise to their children and make their peace.
If Doc was sheer, raw, untrained power, being hurled at all the cracks in the world in attempts to stitch them up, then the Healers here were masters of their trade, slower, steadier, but with the right tools and the patience to smooth over the cracks like they never even existed. It was strange to see a clinic without the never ending gold stains on the walls, strange to see the unhurried, calm demeanor and the kindly smile on the nurse's face as she handed him a bottle of vitamins and nutritional supplements, explaining that he weighed a little less than they'd like, and it was important that he keep up with them.
Ranboo nodded solemnly, listening carefully to every word, but he already knew they'd be flushed down the toilet as soon as he was alone. He didn't need supplements, he was healthy enough already.
They presented him with new clothes as well, simple jeans and a shirt, folded on the top of a large basket that he'd later unpack to find extra clothes, soap and hair wash, a toothbrush and toothpaste, and a little bundle of snacks, with a sticky note on top that declared them a helping hand from a friend. There was even a little smiley face.
No one looked twice at them as they walked through the Hero Tower, despite the fact that Ranboo was both bare foot and walking next to one of the most famous Heroes in the last decade. Puffy elected to ignore the shining elevator in the center of the corridor, and instead pushed open a set of double doors, leading to a tall staircase. Strangely enough, despite being very high up already in the Tower, from the view out the windows, this appeared to be the ground floor of stairs and they started to climb.
"The stairs are separated." Puffy seemed to read his mind as he huffed to keep up with her, "Every floor here has a separate security level, the stairwell will rise between those levels. The higher up you go, the higher a clearance level you need. However, a high security level doesn't necessarily give you permissions to go to more places - only your floors. I have the second highest, I believe, clearance, and I'd still need to get a temporary authorisation if I wanted to access for example the armory."
"What clearance do I have?" Ranboo asked quietly, fighting the urge to groan as they rounded the corner to yet more stairs.
"You'll have freedom to move around your pod," Puffy replied, a slight apologetic tone in her voice, "But I'm afraid you'll need an escort if you wish to go anywhere else. Usually HITs have a little more freedom, but-"
"But I'm a criminal and therefore cannot possibly be allowed near so much as a plug socket on my own?" Ranboo guessed dryly.
"Exactly. Dangerous things, plug sockets."
The younger grinned slightly. Of all the mentors he could've gotten - the sullen Python, the maniac Carnelian, the pyromaniac Flame- he thought he rather got the better end of the deal. Captain Cyclone seemed cool.
"What's a pod?" he asked curiously as they finally leveled out, four flights of stairs later. The doors once again opened at Puffy's touch (DNA sensor? cameras in the stairwell?), and he ducked quickly through after her.
"A pod is- essentially a small apartment." explained Puffy, "There's several floors worth of rooms for various Heroes. Those with their own homes tend to only have singular rooms, and they can use the general cafeteria and communal bathrooms, but for people who live here full time, like I do when I'm on shore-leave and you will, we assign you to pods. Generally speaking, there's supposed to be ten to a pod, with a room each, a shared kitchen, a few bathrooms, and a common area to spend time in, and four pods to a floor, with a more generalised communal area which will contain a gym, a larger common room, and a gaming room by popular demand, but since we're currently a little low on recruits, there's only one pod currently occupied, and it's barely half full."
Ranboo nodded, wide eyed at the explanation. That was- he was rather glad the numbers were currently low, as the idea of living on a floor with forty people was a little daunting. Five or so, he could deal with - that was basically the same as being back at his apartment with the others-
This time, Puffy had to use a keycard to open the door. "If you want to put your basket in your room, I can take you to meet the others in a moment?" she offered, and Ranboo hesitated only a moment before nodding.
The corridor was- uncannily similar to almost every corridor he'd been in in the Lower City. Cleaner, definitely, missing the cracks in the paint and the bullet holes in the walls, but there was something about the lighting, about the worn-down carpet, that made it feel familiar.
"It's nice, isn't it?" Puffy was quieter now, almost thoughtful, "It's designed to resemble a lot of the architecture from back in the 50s, when the Lower City was being built. A lot of our HITs come from homes like yours. We find this makes them more comfortable than all the shiny white plastic that we pay millions to interior decorators for ."
"I like it. Feels like home."
Or one of his homes, at least. Ranboo had a few: the apartment, Poker's house, Teagon's arms-
She pat him softly on the shoulder, a comforting gesture, and he almost tripped over himself twisting from the touch.
"Sorry!" he said, eyes wide, "I wasn't expecting-"
Her eyes were wide too, for just a fraction of a second, and then they shifted into something cautiously warm, "It's alright, I apologise, I shouldn't have touched you without asking. I was going to stop you - we've reached your room."
He swallowed, and took a breath before stepping back towards her, trying to stop his shoulders from hunching up so high. "It's alright." he repeated, "No harm done."
Before she could doubt his word, he was pushing open the door, stepping into his new room. It was- nice. A little jarring, maybe, to step from the familiar corridor into one of the most neutral, sterile bedrooms he'd ever been in, but the room was nice. Two shades of grey on the walls, one lighter, one dark. A wooden bed frame, fit with crisp white sheets and a grey bedspread. A chest of drawers, a nightstand, a wardrobe and a desk. All in either white, grey or wood.
"Feel free to decorate how you like." said Puffy, from where she was standing in the door frame, far enough back that he could probably still barge past her if he needed an out, "I'm sure one of the others would be happy to help you paint."
"Am I- going to be able to get my stuff?"
Puffy sighed, "Officially, no." Ranboo deflated. "However- if you were to happen to find some bits and piece when you're allowed out tomorrow morning to reassure your- friend, that you're alive, then you should also know that everyone is usually too caffeine-buzzed on a Monday morning to care if you're carrying a cardboard box or two."
Ranboo nodded slowly, a grin slowly stretching across his face, "Thanks Puffy."
"Anytime, duckling. Now- are we going to brave the dangers of your roommates?"
"I guess we can…"
"Chin up, chick. I promise that no one bites." She paused in thought, "Actually, I think Finch bit someone last week, but that was Python, and therefore I wasn't too worried."
"She bit Python? And she's not dead??"
"Well, it's generally considered rude to kill your younger sister, so-" Puffy shrugged, walking back away from the door and down the corridor, where Ranboo was suddenly aware he could hear loud voices.
He took a moment to absorb that. Python apparently had a sister? Who was a HIT?
He hung back behind Puffy as the elder knocked on the door where the voices were loudest, someone pausing a moment to yell "COME IN" at the top of their lungs.
There were five people in the room, three on the sofa, two on the floor, all with fixed gazes on a massive screen at the front of the room, showing a quartered game of Mario Kart. Ranboo flinched back slightly as a resounding cheer came from a blonde in a bright-green hoodie, as she threw her controller up in celebration, a small 1 showing in the corner of her screen.
"SUCK MY CLIT, MECH!"
The one who was presumably Mech, made a face of mild disgust, "You're not my type, Leah, you know that."
The girl - Leah - stuck her tongue out as she kicked him, "Suck it anyway, fa-"
Puffy coughed. Leah rolled her eyes. "I'm gay! I can say that!"
"Just because you can, doesn't mean you should. Especially not in front of both a small child and your new teammate."
Ranboo hunched down as five pairs of eyes snapped towards him.
Leah frowned, "I didn't know we were getting a new one? Is he a stray you picked up or some rich kid who daddy wants to make a man out of." she looked him up and down, "Because if it's the latter, you're gonna need a lot of testosterone to fix that pathetic wet cat vibe."
Puffy dropped her head into her hands. "Finch. Please. I'm sure Ranboo will explain at some point if he wants to, but until then, just don't scare him please. Otherwise you'll be on toilet scrubbing duty for another week."
Finch - and Ranboo understood now, having met her brother, why she acted this way - rolled her eyes again, but thankfully stopped talking.
The boy from earlier - Mech? - grinned, standing up. "Nice to meet you," he said, extending a hand for Ranboo to shake, "I'm-"
He was cut off by Ranboo's shriek, the taller leaping backwards as Mech's arm came off.
The others in the room started howling at his horrified expression, and even more when Mech casually popped what he now saw was a prosthetic back into place. "Sorry about that," he grinned, "It's tradition."
"Your- your arm-"
"Congratulations! I have an arm! You're correct!" Mech clapped, a faint whirr sounding as he moved the fake arm. "Do you want to know what happened to it? Because I have an entire list we can through if you don't want to accept 'I lost it'. Let's see-" There were more giggles as Mech tugged an entire scroll out of his pocket, the paper rolling comedically down and away from him, "It got eaten by a shark! I didn't eat my vegetables. I didn't listen to my parent. It got stolen by an improbably large pelican. I fell into a wood chipper as a child. I'm actually fully android. I-"
"Gadget. Please." Puffy sounded a mix of amused and exasperated, "I have a meeting in half an hour, I'm trying awfully hard to get Ranboo settled in before I abandon him to your mercy."
"Sorry Cap," chirped Mech- or was it Gadget? - not sounding particularity sorry, "Hey Ranboo, I'm Tubbo, Gadget, Mech or the Mechanic, depending on how fancy you want to get. Use one, none, all- I don't care. You can point to me from across the room and yell 'ITS THAT ONE' for all I care. Leah, on the other hand, will throw things at anyone who isn't related to her or her supervising officer if they call her anything other than Finch, because she's special like that-"
Right on cue, Tubbo ducked as a shoe flew over his head, hitting the wall. He straightened up after a moment, and continued, "The one who's scowling like you just killed his grandma is Purpled. He has an actual name somewhere but he's hidden all the records. He doesn't actually hate you, that's just how his face is built. The small child is Astro, before you panic, no he's not a HIT, his parents work here and he likes to hang out with out when we have no training. And the normal looking one is Fred, he's just a guy, honestly, he's very well adjusted and would be deemed by society as 'normal'. I'm convinced he's actually an alien, because there's no way someone in this economy can be mentally stable, have a good relationship with their parents, and be queer. It's just not happening."
"He tried to throw vinegar on me last week!" added Fred cheerfully, waving at Ranboo from the sofa, "He thought I might melt. Like one of those green gas things from Doctor Who!"
"ITS A SLITHEEN, FRED."
"Actually," said Ranboo quietly, "Slitheen is just the family name. The species is different."
Tubbo turned so sharply he thought the smaller might break his neck. "You watch Doctor Who?"
"Yeah, a bit, I-"
"I CALL DIBS. HE'S MINE. BACK OFF BITCHES."
The last thing Ranboo saw, before he was dragged away by Tubbo, bewilderment across his face, was Puffy pulling off her face to rub at her eyes. "I'll catch up with you tonight!" she called as they went, "Tubbo, don't break him please!"
"NO PROMISES!"
What the hell had Ranboo gotten himself into?
-0-0-0-0-0-
a few days later
Ranboo was hurrying, as he walked down the familiar path to the music studio, his phone clutched in his hoodie pocket, the screen turned off. His old one was lost somewhere in the streets, likely smashed and now stripped for parts, but he'd managed to get back almost all the numbers he'd lost, mostly with the help of Doc, who had been waiting for him in the apartment when he went back Monday morning to collect his stuff.
They were gone long, as he'd suspected - everything but his own room was barren, no trace that they'd even existed. Doc had been sat in the kitchen when he entered, mask on the table, and deep circles under her eyes. Her arm was bound up in a sling, and he noticed with panic that a deep set of purple bruises adorned her throat, like somehow had lifted her straight up like some sort of rag doll. She'd refused to elaborate, and said only that she would go to Bad's Bakery later, to pick up some healing food, and he'd been left worried and anxious even after her hug.
She said she hadn't heard from Teagon, when he asked, and he was thankful for it. Teagon had never liked her, and he was worried what he'd do if he thought Doc was responsible for his disappearance. She'd acted like his return was guaranteed, but he could see the sheer relief in her eyes. There had been nothing she could for him aside wait - Doc had more than just him to think about, after all, and she wouldn't have been able to launch a rescue even if she'd had that sort of firepower.
He'd packed up a single box worth of stuff. His favourite things - his best clothes, most of his jewelry, treasured memories and photos, were kept in his room at Teagon's house, and so it was only really necessities and a few stray mementos he wanted to keep. Everything else would be redistributed to the others, to be used by someone new.
He'd meant to text Teagon that night, but when he returned to the Tower, Puffy checking the box for contraband and signing him in, Tubbo had dragged him over to the gym to show him the new swimming pool they'd installed the year before, and they'd spent the afternoon kicking through the warm water. Then he'd been going to text on Tuesday, but Puffy had turned up early that morning to start training with him, and then he'd napped after lunch, and Astro, the adorable eight year old who hung out around their pod had asked him with wide, wide eyes if he would pretty please come and play Mario kart with him, and Ranboo had felt bad saying no to those eyes.
And then it had been Wednesday morning, and he was due at the music studio for 4pm sharp for his violin lesson, which Puffy had approved well in advance, when they were working out his schedule, and he'd dared only to send a brief apologetic text saying that something had happened, but he'd be there that afternoon, and because he was a coward, he'd shut his phone off the second he saw the 'typing' bubble appear.
The music studio was the same as ever, as he entered. He wasn't sure why he'd expected it to be different - it had only been five days or so, since he'd last been here, but his life had changed so drastically in that time that somehow he'd expected everything else to have changed as well.
He knocked on the door of the studio briefly, more of a courtesy than a request to enter, and pushed the door open, looking up to see-
His head smacked into the wall beside him, one hand wrapped around his throat as Teagon slammed him backwards, the other hand inches from the side of his face.
"Where the fuck do you think you've been, boy?" he snarled, and Ranboo's head swam as he was knocked harshly against the wood again, his skull rattling even as his hands flew up on instinct, to pry the squeezing fingers away. Teagon only lifted him higher, his feet clearing the floor now, leaving him choking, wheezing for air.
"Teag-" he tried, only to be shook once more.
"You know how many times I've called you?? No message, no note- you up and fucking left- I thought were you dead, you ungrateful brat."
He squirmed frantically, face turning red, and then starting to splotch purple as his throat was crushed in the grip of the elder.
"'m- so-rry-" he gasped out with the last of his air, vision turning blurry, "Pl-ea-se-"
Teagon snarled again, but finally dropped him, Ranboo falling straight to the floor as he hacked and coughed, leaning his head between his knees as he tried his best not to pass out.
Teagon remained standing, looking down at him with what Ranboo could only assume was utmost disgust. A boot landed on his ankle, then, pressing down just a little beyond his usually high pain tolerance.
He gasped, and Teagon pressed down harder, making him yelp.
"You have two minutes to explain." His voice was cold and unforgiving as steel, "Or I break this one first, then the other, and you can spend the rest of the lesson on the floor."
Ranboo shuddered, finally looking up. Teagon's eyes were sharp, and his lips pressed in a thin line. "What are you waiting for, boy? Talk."
His words were punctuated with a rock of his foot, and Ranboo yelped again, his tongue tripping over his words.
"I- I got arrested-" he choked out, trying to stop his hands from shaking. The boot let up a fraction on an inch, Teagon's face showing something he didn't see often - or ever. Shock.
"I was- I was out at night, with some friends-" he continued, making sure to stick to the truth. Always the truth, "And there was this villain guy- there were vigilantes there too, fighting him, and I guess they thought we were part of it? Cause they grabbed me, hit me over the head I think, and then the next thing- the next thing I remember I woke up in a cell-"
Teagon's shock had smoothed itself back into neutrality, but it was clear this hadn't been what he was expecting to hear.
"They questioned me for a bit, there was this guy- he wasn't very good, I don't think. I kept telling him I couldn't tell him anything, and he didn't believe me. But the other woman did, because she told him eventually to leave and- she said she believed me and she was going to try to help."
The truth, the truth, the truth. He couldn't tell them anything. Not because he didn't know it. but because it went against everything he stood for.
"And then?" Teagon's voice was unreadable, but his boot was slowly lifting away from his ankle.
"And then I think- I think they realised they messed up, and that I couldn't help them, but also that they couldn't just let me go right away? The woman felt bad, I think, so she spoke to her boss and I- sorta got a job. An internship type thing. But everything's really secret and I'm not supposed to be telling you this but I can't not tell you this-" he was babbling, aware that his two minutes was rapidly running out, "-and they made me move into the Tower because they said it would be too dangerous for me to stay out, and I've only been allowed to go out once to get some of my stuff and I have to constantly check in so they know I'm not- trying to kill someone? I don't know what they think I'm gonna do, but everything's very under control, and my phone got broken when they got me and I haven't been able to text you until today and then I got worried you were gonna be mad and I turned my phone off and-"
"Enough."
He snapped his mouth shut, looking up at Teagon with wide, pleading eyes. The elder looked back at him, and for a moment, Ranboo thought it might not be enough. He readied himself for the break, for first the snap, and then the burning, burning pain of his ankle.
Instead, Teagon slowly lowered himself to the ground next to him, kneeling flat on the floor, and Ranboo found himself tugged onto his lap, arms lifting to wrap around his neck, shakily sighing out as Teagon pulled him close. One large hand settled on his lower back, the other tangling in his hair, and he fought the urge to sob, finally safe.
"I'm really sorry, Teag." he whispered into his neck, hiding his face.
Teagon hummed, "I know you are. I'm still angry. You shouldn't have been out late in the first place, you shouldn't have gotten yourself caught in the crossfire, and your first priority should've been calling me." Ranboo pushed closer, trying to make himself as small as possible, "I'll put you over my lap, later, and you can limp back to your new little friends. But… I'm glad you're alright, kid. Don't scare me like that again. I thought I lost you."
Ranboo swallowed, knowing that this was a far better alternative than loosing ankle privileges, but still slightly indignant that he was going to be spanked like a child for something that wasn't even really his fault… except for the not-texting-part. That was very much his fault.
"I'm sorry," he repeated, "I'll do better, I promise."
"Good boy." Teag's hand tightened on his back, the other hooking under one of his legs, and Ranboo squeaked as the elder picked them both up, lifting him as easily as he would a bag of potatoes over to a chair in the corner, "We can sit for a bit, before we start. You're shaking."
It was familiar, being arranged on the elder's lap like this, face buried in his chest, arms wrapped around his waist. "It's been a long few days…" he murmured, "I really missed you."
Teagon started to run his fingers through his hair, "I missed you too." he rumbled lowly, "Don't fall asleep on me, now."
Ranboo, whose eyes had started to slide closed, shifted guiltily. "Sorry."
A few moments more silence. And then- "Love you, Teag."
"I know you do, kid." he breathed out, and a kiss was pressed to Ranboo's head, "I know."