Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The steps to a waltz are easy, given enough time and practice. 

6 proper, perfected counts in a box-step format, first forward, then side, and together; back, and side, together-- a leader taking the first, gliding step with their left foot, followers going along with their right foot striding back. Treating partners gently yet firm, standing slightly off-set to prevent either dancer from stepping on an unsuspecting shoe, attuning oneself to the sweeping, formal music that accompanied a dance as formal as a waltz-- a flowing ‘one-two-three, one-two-three’ pulse. Making sure a lady’s dress is properly shown off as partners twirl, and spin, and promenade in a careful, circling counter-clockwise-- all of that is easy. For Green, it has always been easy. 

The process of an undercover mission becomes easy, given enough experience, and with around 3 years of hero sidekick work under his belt, Green’s worked hard to acquire a sufficient amount of experience to know every step, every tip and skill of such precarious missions down to the letter. 

The receiving of the file, knowing exactly what key words prompted the idea of sending someone to blend in with the common masses, the scouting of the location, the preparation of costumes, accessories, and everything of the like to ensure the swiftest, cleanest attire to prevent even the slightest hint of suspicion, the studying of behavior, the subtle changes to speech, attitude, and movements to hide one’s true identity and mesh into a new and temporary version of oneself-- all of that is supposed to be easy.  

After all, Chosen was the one who entrusted him with these specific tasks, seemingly holding a full confidence that Green could handle this type of work without significant casualty, and Green makes it-- he has to make it-- a point to live up to every standard and expectation a man, a hero, like Chosen has for him. It’s the least he can do-- it’s really all he can do-- to repay him for all his benevolence. 

His charity, because Chosen didn’t have to take pity on him. He had no obligation to let Green into his home-- to let Green call his apartment his home-- and no one was there to force him into  taking hours out of his busy days to train Green in everything he needed to know in order to succeed in hero society. No responsibility to sit with him and listen when Green couldn’t sleep, or eat, or even think with everything he’d lost. 

Yet he did, and Green will probably never know why, but it doesn’t change how much kindness Chosen’s shown him for all these years. 

The least Green can do is come home with a victorious, successful undercover mission. That’s what he should always do, what a hero’s sidekick is supposed to do. 

But tonight? 

Undercover missions aren’t easy. And while he makes it look easy, as masking his true self, pulling on the proper expressions at the right times, and shifting his body to move in a certain way in order to keep up a pretense still came naturally for him… coming face to face with Purple really wasn’t as simple as he made it seem. 

In fact, it may have been one of the hardest things he’s faced recently, to reel back his shock and disguise his absolute baffledness at what the hell Purple-- of all people-- was doing here, a ballroom party that promised dancing, grandeur, and certainly not violence. 

Yet situations can change at the drop of a hat, and all of Green’s preparations, his expectations, and hope that tonight would go smoothly without a single hitch can dissipate as if they were never there. Like a burning flame being dowsed in a splash of water-- Green was met with winding coils of a glowing violet, and shocked, surprised eyes beneath the veil of a fallen person’s mask. A person that Green recognized almost instantaneously. 

Even if his disguise was skillfully elaborate, and all his harsh edges had been blurred into something softer, sweeter, the sight of wide eyes that held nothing but pure disbelief, the way his shoulders and ribs tensed tightly as if he was holding a taken aback breath, and the slightest view of something grey and feathery underneath the velvety white cloak he wore were enough details for Green to catch on to just who this random “lady” was. Green’s been fighting and trying to catch Purple for months now-- of course he could recognize him in a crowd of bustling people, regardless of what the guy was wearing. (His wings would probably always give him away in any costume, anyway.) 

And he should have acted immediately, should have moved to intercept this villain, this outlaw associate lurking in the shadows of tonight’s party of sparkling lights. Green should’ve grabbed Purple harshly but subtly by the arm-- ignoring his clearly distressed state and keeping his own cover as much as he could-- dragged him through crowds of pompous guests donned in glittering jewels, taken them out of this whole situation, should’ve rushed to discreetly throw him out of the party, letting him crash down into the scratchy blades of grass housed within the garden outside, and demanded what he was doing here, why the fuck was he in a dress of all things-- a gorgeous one, to be fair, but still strange for someone as vicious as this particular Bird-- what was he trying to do, and start a fight right then and there. 

Beat it out of him if he had to, choke it out perhaps, information on exactly what Purple was planning and-- if someone did-- who sent him here. 

Would it have been a rough approach? Most certainly, yes, but Purple was a criminal, quite possibly a murderer akin to Red, and a clear danger to the unsuspecting guests wandering about. It’d be common thinking, proper foresight to get someone like him out of there as soon as possible, wouldn’t it? 

Maybe Green could’ve finally arrested him that way, throwing him in jail where he belonged. Maybe they could’ve earned both a successful undercover mission-- because Second would still be inside the party, and could easily succeed without Green there-- and a swift capture of a criminal that’s been messing them up for so damn long. (Chosen would be proud then, right? Some of his burden would be lifted, right?) 

But he did none of that, even though he knew he should’ve. 

Instead, Green looked down at this fallen figure, a nervous wreck in all his feathery, jagged points-- Purple, dressed as a delicate, unassuming lady with beauty that seemed to bloom akin to a blossoming flower, wrapped in a lush shade of pink and adorned with a cascade of snow-white fur. Donned in the colors of innocence and purity, even though Green has an inkling he’s hurt more people than he can count on one hand. The sight was uncanny, the feeling even more so. 

The feeling-- of all his jumping agitation, aggression, and twitch for action fading and falling from his mind, dissipating into something tender, milder, as he fixed his mask whilst taking in a breath, fully aware of the curious onlookers, and knelt down to help Purple instead of hurt. Lend support and allow the curious sight of Purple to rise to his feet, and chase off the creep who had been tailing behind. (Chasing off said creep might’ve been more for Green’s satisfaction rather than anything else, as he holds a burning hatred for such kinds of creatures, horrible beings that he wished he never knew of or encountered.) 

It was a split-second decision, borne of the alarmingly short time he had before Purple inevitably realized that Green, in fact, did recognize him and tried something rash, something painful. And frankly? Even with how everything turned out, he still can’t fully decide if his choice had been the completely wrong move.

Because there he was-- Purple who looked, and acted, and felt so different, with his fingers trapped against Green’s palm as he led the two of them to the center of the floor. It wasn’t a lie that the music was about to start, and it was also a safety measure, a quick precaution to join the waltz in the midst of such a large, exquisite expanse. Just to ensure Purple couldn’t swipe or strike at any nearby guests, because he couldn’t do anything impulsive if everyone was watching him, right? He’d blow his cover, that way. (Green also couldn’t do anything if he was in the middle of all the festivities, but at least he still had Second in the crowd, to find Mr. Shiny as quickly and covertly as possible while he handled the potential threat.) 

Those fingers, delicately covered in white, silky lace with a grip loose yet reliant, had begun to uncharacteristically tremble as they stood still in the middle of a bustling, dancing circle of luxury. Obviously, Purple was anxious, but just the thought of it felt wrong, foreign-- too odd to belong to the vicious bird that Green’s had multiple aggressive encounters with. Purple’s hostile, sharp nature seemed to have been mellowed out with the waves of organza and glittering tulle, his ferocity dulled by the coils of spinning violet cascading over his shoulders and framing his face-- a feat so bizarre to Green that he couldn’t help but dare to look up and look straight at Purple’s masked face. He’s sure he had been searching for something, a confirmation perhaps to ensure this really was who he thought this was between his fingers, but the second he made direct contact with Purple’s view, glanced past the grandeur and persona of him Green had engraved in his mind-- everything had vanished. Disappearing like smoke in the night, as his mind turned a blank. 

“I-- I can’t dance.” Purple had blurted, desperately so, his voice uncharacteristically quiet, hushed, and strained for a guy who was usually so keen on shouting profanities and threats at him. It had sputtered out with a shaking surge rather than a clear, harsh sound, similar to the way his fingers were wracked with nervous trembles, and accompanying such an unreal sight were clear, no longer cloudy, violet eyes that shot up, full of anxious panic-- flickering with a gaze that seemed to look to Green for… help? 

And oh, that was new. 

Has Purple ever looked at Green with anything except for a glance leaking of venom? Anything besides defiance and a brutal ferocity?

No, he doesn’t think so.

But his eyes then, had been borderline urging Green to do something-- most definitely an unconscious cry for aid, as he’s sure Purple had some sense of pride, dignity, and a heavy grudge against Green for constantly getting in his way. If Green had thought more logically, perhaps he’d had decided that this gaze was nothing more than a hitch in their usual scene, something he shouldn’t have paid attention to, a mistake he shouldn’t have acted upon to fix-- but still, his own eyes had widened, and his thoughts had raced. Because why would Purple be asking him for help, of all things, of all people? Him? Green? The guy practically hated him! 

And Green…hated him too. After everything Purple’s done and was associated with, Green had to hate him. That was just the way the world worked, right? 

He should’ve just let him go. He should’ve taken the spotlight of embarrassment when Purple inevitably ran off from their spot in the middle, and he shouldn’t have even been there, with Purple in his hands to begin with.  

But… Purple looked so panicked. And that gaze couldn’t have been a mistake, right? In his hands was still someone, a person, asking for help, wasn’t it? Daring to be bold enough, to be vulnerable enough to show evident distress, to look towards another and see if they knew what to do, if they could do anything at all. 

Heroes… are supposed to help people, right? Wasn’t that what Green wanted to be? Someone able to help, someone strong enough, capable enough-- 

Good enough to help. Holding that competence and ability to be a person who could swiftly and expertly deal with unprecedented threats and terrors, being a person people could rely on to  win, to comfort and aid and help and save-- 

It’d be a wonderful thing, wouldn't it? So many times, Green could’ve done something, anything to help the people around him. But he hadn’t been able to, back then-- so now, shouldn’t he do whatever he could to strive for becoming something so wonderful? So worthy? 

And at the end of the day, despite all their altercations, Purple is still a person…right? (He has to be-- why else would his hands feel warm underneath cool silk if not for the same blood flowing through his veins?) 

Yes, Purple is a person, even if he was a criminal on the enemy’s side who Green is supposed to arrest and defeat, who looked so terribly anxious and about to run off the floor with quaking fingers and panic evident in each swirl of those veiled eyes. From the tense way his shoulders were scrunched, the flush on his cheeks, and the fact his torso was stiff, rigid-- Green could tell he couldn’t take in a breath, couldn’t think, maybe, about what to do. 

He’d felt like that when he was younger, perhaps a little too many times to count, and oh, how desperately Green wished for someone to be there by his side. It didn’t even have to be a hero, he remembered thinking, as long as it was someone, anyone there to grab his hands tight, steady him with comforting reassurances and a true, kind smile instead of one full of deceit, to guide him on what to do. 

Tell him, honestly, that it’d be alright. That he’d be alright. 

It came late, all those wishes cast over birthday candles and twinkling, passing stars-- but in his current life that he’s grown to love, Green has people now to steady him when he’s about to fall over, whisper soft, kind words to him when he feels like crying, and spiraling, and screaming like he can’t hear himself anymore, friends to grab his hands, give him a hug and smile as brightly as they can just to see him smile, and guide him when he can’t find a single answer in the depths of his mind. 

Yet maybe… just maybe, his life would’ve played out a little differently if anyone at all had offered to help him in his early years, when he needed them the most. Maybe he could’ve avoided so, so many things he never wants to encounter again. 

He doesn’t wish that pain on anyone, regardless of who they may be. 

So with a tighter grip, to ensure Purple couldn’t slip through his fingers, couldn’t run away and brew in his panic, his anxiety, his fear-- Green had pulled him close, and firmly, gently placed his hands in the correct holdings. 

“Breathe.” He had whispered, because he knows what it’s like to have lungs so tight it feels like suffocation. 

“You don’t have to know a thing,” A truth, as Green knows exactly what to do, and he’s willing to pass on this knowledge if only for Purple to stop shaking. 

“Just follow my lead.” 

Let me guide you, and I promise it’ll be alright. 

Green isn’t sure if he can live up to those words, those fleeting swears and promises he tries to communicate with his movements and the way he looks at Purple with a willingness to help and not with hostility, but the music was already playing, so why not dance?

That’s what he took Purple to the center to do anyway, and despite their past, Green found he actually wanted to calm him down, because it just wasn’t right to leave someone like that, another human being, wallowing in their own panic and nerves. It just wasn’t right, and it didn’t sit right with Green-- to let that anxiety overtake someone and do nothing when he had the capability to help now. 

So why shouldn’t he ease the shakes that wracked the other’s body? Why couldn’t he lead him, spin him, instruct him on what to do, where to go-- just so he couldn’t focus or worry about the others murmuring and watching them? 

Because they were enemies? Because they were on opposite sides and Purple is capable of so much hurt and pain and crime? Because he has a job to do, as a hero’s sidekick, he has a mission and a goal and he shouldn’t be wasting time trying to calm someone down-- a criminal who probably only sees him as an enemy and nothing more? 

Perhaps those answers were true, and Green possibly dug his own grave by aiding a person on the far opposite end of the spectrum that governed society-- but at that moment, only for tonight underneath glistening glass and donned in flowing attires of elegance, he wanted to believe that the two of them were nothing but dance partners. Nothing but amiable strangers, and maybe, with the benevolence he showed Purple, there would be no bloodshed when the clock strikes 12. 

…

But dances end. They conclude with a final note of a solemn violin and a drawn out hum of a clarinet, and Green foolishly got too caught up in their moment that was nothing but ephemeral. Had forgotten who the two of them really were, mystified and enraptured by the flowing, winding music traveling gingerly through his ears, surrounding and wrapping around the two of them spinning in the careful steps he guided them through. He separated himself too much, got too involved in the facade of a character he was meant to portray, idiotically hoped for his kindness to be paid back by a temporary truce, and failed to remember the amount of danger Purple brought with him, the amount of chaos he could cause when everything came to a close and the music faded into nothingness. 

The blood helped him remember-- as well as the way his heart had dropped straight to his stomach when he heard the echoing bellows of a gunshot, (because of course Blue was here too, right? How could he have overlooked that possibility?) and he only had a split-second to reel Mr. Shiny out of the way. He couldn’t save the man completely, with how his eye is currently gushing out blood and is most likely permanently damaged, but at least he wasn’t dead. 

What is dead however, is the endearingly nervous, shaking role of a person that Purple had been playing, the one who asked for help, accepted whatever Green could give him, and listened to his careful instructions-- as Purple looks him right in the eyes with that familiar hostility, and large, lethal grey feathers spread out in an arc behind him. 

There's a rustle of wings, and sharp feathers trickle off and sway through the air, falling and settling down on the floor in swift, tense silence. With his mask and cloak now removed, eyes full of pointed determination, thorny intent, and a narrowed, fixed gaze-- Purple is back to being the rogue outlaw Green knew he was. A sight that reminds him of the reality of which they’re placed. 

“..Party’s over.” Purple mutters, and Green can’t help but agree. 

So this was it, then. Back to business, because he still has a mission to complete, a suspect to take back to the police station, a friend to support and protect and he still has to go home-- home where there’s people waiting. People who he should’ve held in higher priority because really-- what was Green even doing? 

When midnight falls, will Green have succeeded in tonight’s goals? Or will he have thrown it all away, just to prove to himself he held the capability to help? 

(Did Purple even see it-- his actions, his words-- as help?)

“GREEN!” A sudden voice cuts through his ears-- and so does the sound of yet another bullet zipping down from somewhere high that Green can’t exactly catch-- as Second is abruptly throwing himself against him, taking him down to the ground as an energy field is generated around them in a swift bubble of a shield. The pressure against him, warm, and the tingle and zap of energy from their close proximity pricks at Green’s skin, pulling him out of his thoughts. 

A bullet-- aimed directly at Green’s temple-- ricochets off of Second’s forcefield, as well as many others that rain down in quick succession. 

“Blue’s here too! I saw her, she’s up on the ceiling!” Second informs, mask already shed, getting up and off of Green while simultaneously checking him over for any scrape caused by his rushed tackle. His mask gets pulled off by Second’s quick hands, eyes analyzing his face hastily yet thoroughly, before he shifts his attention to the wounded man beside them, ripping off his mask and confirming this is in fact the person they’ve been looking for. 

Green blinks quickly, tearing his eyes away from the sight of Purple beyond the neon haze, his figure flying up towards the towering dome above them-- surely moving to retrieve Blue from her elevated position and bring her down to commence a fight. 

Ripping his eyes away, Green swallows in a gulp-- pushing everything, their dancing, the distress, and the feeling of warm yet trembling hands in his, down to where he can’t linger on them any longer, and shuffles over to check on Mr. Shiny. 

Focus on the task at hand. Snap out of it. Get to work. 

“This guy’s their target for tonight, we gotta keep them from taking him out-- for whatever reason they’re doing this for.” He mutters, keeping the man’s flailing arms pinned to the ground to keep them out of Second’s way and view, as his friend holds glowing hands of healing to Mr. Shiny’s face. The wound is deep, bullet lodged fatally into the eye’s canal-- and in the worst case scenario, penetrating the brain. 

It was clear, from how Blue purposefully and cleanly aimed a bullet straight at his skull that Mr. Shiny was the target for the two of them tonight, but the question is why? Why were they trying to kill Mr. Shiny, of all people? Did he do something? Was he more involved in crime than they had initially thought? 

“Shit, what did this guy even do to have both the heroes and villains after him?” Second wonders, healing the wound just enough that blood no longer oozes out of it, but with limited time and resources, they unfortunately can’t remove the bullet wedged inside-- a necessary move if Second wanted to heal the man completely. 

“And wow, I had no idea that was Purple! I literally almost bumped into him earlier! Aghh how did I not realize??” 

Green finds himself scoffing humorously at that, a bit weak yet playful all the same, as Second shakes his head in disbelief. “Well, someone dressed him up real nice, it was probably their intention to make sure you didn’t realize.” 

Contrary to what Green thought Second would do-- that is, laugh at Green’s remark and say something along the lines of ‘Yeah, makes sense’-- Second only blinks at his words, looks right at him while letting go of the man who’s apparently passed out, and blurts--

“Did you realize it was him?” Second’s eyes are serious but not judging, evidently holding a rich curiosity and… a knowing familiarity. Right, Second had danced with Red. And to this day, Green still isn’t sure why. It couldn’t only be because Red asked him to, as despite Second’s mellow nature, he wasn’t a pushover.

“Because if you did, then I’m curious about why you danced with him. Were you trying to do something?” Second finishes, blinking at Green’s surprised expression and awaiting a response. 

What… should he say? They danced because Green just wanted to help, and he needed some method of making sure Purple couldn’t try anything with all these people around. He’s pretty sure that’s the whole truth, but admitting it is a much harder task to be sure of-- because there were so many other actions Green could’ve taken, and what did Second even think about their whole dancing scene, anyway? Was he reminded of Red? Did he think Green was doing something stupid, once he figured out that the “lady” he nearly stumbled into was actually Purple? 

“...I-” Green starts, before there’s a sudden bang-- harsh and resounding in echoes from their position huddling under Second’s arc of protection. Whipping his head back at the alarmingly loud sound, he finds Blue, standing tall with an honest-to-god chair raised above her head. 

She slams the piece of furniture down again, against Second’s energy shield, the waves of vibrations washing over them as they wince at the sudden strike. It rings wrong and heavy in his ears, the echoing bellows of a solid object being hammered against a hollow space, causing his hands to reflexively cover his ears. 

“Hey! Are you just gonna hide the whole time?!” She shouts, slamming the chair down again and again. “Get out of there, you cowards! Especially you, you spider-bastard! You ruined my fucking shot!” 

In contrast to her glittering partner, Blue is dressed casually and plainly, hair tied back in its typical ponytail and fitted in a simple sweater with the sleeves rolled up, pants laced with holsters that house two guns instead of one. (Did they have some kind of supplier, for her to restock the gun she had lost?) 

Green tries not to shudder at her ire aimed directly at him, instead sending her a sharp glare before dropping his hands and checking Mr. Shiny’s pulse. He’s still alive, albeit passed out, as Green glances back to the scene unfolding. 

“Quit it, are you that high?” Purple huffs from behind Blue, his arms crossed over his chest, hair now bound in a quick low ponytail with a random hairband. He steps forward, either about to make Blue stop or try his own attempt at cracking the shield, placing a hand against her upper arm. “It’s not gonna break, even if you--”

Gritting his teeth, Second raises his hands and expands the forcefield to shove Blue back, right as she attempts another harsh strike with the chair-- and it shatters upon their opposing forces, legs and frame breaking off as it falls out of Blue’s hands and causes her to stumble backwards. Purple swiftly dodges the broken, thrown chair as he catches his teammate from crashing to the ground. 

“You should be happy we’re hiding!” Second shouts, standing as his shield increases its area. “You’re just asking for a fight, aren’t you? Why are you even trying to kill this guy?” 

“None of your business.” Purple hisses, steadying Blue before moving her to the side with one extended wing. “You guys are always asking questions, as if we're actually going to answer you. It's getting old, and if anything it just shows how fucking stupid you all are.” 

Green scoffs at that, standing from his spot and walking a little closer, a hand on his hip. That hostility and ferociousness from Purple is back, and he seems to have completely moved on from playing the part of a frail, delicate lady. The return to normalcy is happily welcome, as the familiarity of Purple being his usual aggressive self is easier to handle in comparison to the way he had shook earlier-- a sight that Green wants to forget for now, just to make his work easier. And hey, now that they’re past the pretense of their played up roles for the masses, Green can let loose as well, and freely pay this guy back tenfold. 

“You know, you're really hard to take seriously when you look oh-so-adorable.” Green coos, chuckling to himself at the way Purple's face flushes a blooming shade of pink, and all that vicious bite fades from his expression. 

Sweetly, he smiles-- continuing his tiny act of psychological warfare as he walks aimlessly underneath Second’s shield, leveling their gazes. “Honestly, I think this is a much better look for you-- loose, curly hair and a dress fit for a princess! Oh, and the way you clung to me when we were dancing was super in character for someone so delicate. Did you have fun dancing in your beautiful gown?” 

Face as red as roses, Purple sputters indignantly, seemingly trying to form a proper sentence against his fluster. However, all that comes out is a simple, “Shut-- shut the fuck up! I’m-” 

“Ah, ah, ah--” Green chides, waving a finger. “Princesses shouldn’t speak so harshly. It’s… unfit for a lady.” 

Beside him, Second can’t help but chuckle-- clearly trying to hide his face and humor as he looks away to the side. Green smirks at the way Purple’s shoulders tense up in agitation, his face blooms a bright, burning scarlet with his bottom lip being bit tightly in frustration, and his fingers curl into fists that wring viciously against the fabric of his dress, before he suddenly-- growls?? 

It’s a loud, rumbling sound from the back of Purple’s throat, clear enough to be heard-- obviously pissed the fuck off-- and oddly visible with how he bares his teeth at Green, like some kind of animal. And before Green can even process how the fuck he’s making that sound or what that even meant for the two of them laughing at his dressed-up state, Purple is shooting his wings back, propelling himself forwards at such an insane speed that Green would’ve missed if he blinked, and crashing into Second’s shield with a force much, much heavier than a wooden chair. Second visibly stumbles back at the impact, humor lost and face twisting up in exertion as the shield flickers and blips. 

And holy shit, Green’s so fucked. 

“GET THE HELL OUT OF THERE! I’M GONNA KILL YOU, YOU SMUG BASTARD!” Repeatedly, Purple strikes down with both fists, then his elbow, his fists again, and finally a harsh, slamming downward kick against the forcefield-- each hit holding a furious, fiery ire and enough force to get Second gritting his teeth at each strike. 

“GREEN! Why did you say that?!” Shrieking, Second whips his head towards him, visibly straining to keep them out of Purple’s clutches. “I can’t--” He groans, the shield around them only blipping faster and shrinking in size as the onslaught continues. “Shit, he’s gonna kill the guy and us now!” 

Scrunching his shoulders and wincing at each hit, Green lifts his hands up in quick surrender, words rambling. “I didn’t think he’d react like-- like that! Come on, it was funny! You even laughed!--” 

“It was funny!” Blue shouts, chuckling to herself from her spot behind the raging fit that is Purple, swinging a gun around her finger. “But what’s going to be even funnier is your screams when this pretty princess rips you to shreds!~”

“Would you stop with the princess thing?!” Purple yells back, whipping his head towards Blue who only laughs more at his angered state. “I’m not a fucking princess!” Furthering his point, another downwards pummel is struck against Second's shield, Purple violently adamant on tearing through the barrier between them with his own bare hands. 

“Are you sure about that?! Because you could’ve fooled me if you were more well-spoken!” Green shouts back, dropping down on his knees and wrapping threads to wind around Mr. Shiny’s body, pinning his arms against his sides to keep the guy still if he were to wake, as well as make him easier to drag or throw around. “But you just can’t keep your mouth shut, huh?!” 

Another low, guttural growl rips it way out of Purple’s throat, as he jumps back a few steps, whirls around, and grabs one of Blue’s guns-- locking aim and firing wildly at Second’s shield. The bullets bounce and ricochet off the glowing surface, Second only straining further to keep them protected.

“You keep your mouth shut! I’m going to rip that goddamn smirk right off of your stupid, ugly face!” 

Gasping in deep offense, Green jumps to his feet, stomping over to the very edge of the shield as Purple tosses the gun back to its owner and strikes once more at the unbroken-- but rapidly flashing-- surface. 

“Ugly?! I’m fucking gorgeous, you vicious bird! Do you know how many modeling shoots I’ve been in?! I bet you’ve never gotten your photo professionally taken even once!” 

“Hey, maybe we shouldn’t make him angrier?!--” Second tries, before Purple interrupts him. 

“Oh, a model, are we?!” He drops to the ground then, wings still flapping in thrashing agitation as he slams a hard fist against the blipping surface that’s clearly approaching its limit. “Well, you must have been too hideous to continue being photographed like you say, because I’ve never seen you in a single magazine!” 

“I’m retired, you asshole!”  

“Of course you are! I’d never expect someone like you to have a long career!” Purple continues to hit, and strike, and bash against the rapidly flashing arc of energy as their argument continues, and Green’s anger rises to his head-- because even after all his help, making sure Purple calmed down and didn’t look like a fool on the dance floor, here the guy was, claiming that Green is ugly! Talk about being ungrateful! 

“Excuse me?! I should be saying that to you! You’re so aggressive, and rude, and eternally-scowling that I bet no one would want to photograph you!”  

“Green! Can you stop?!--”

“I don’t need anyone to photograph me! All I need is to bash your unattractive, infuriating face into the goddamn ground!” 

“Unattractive?! I’ll have you know, people have called me beautiful since the day I opened my eyes!--” 

“SHUT UP!” Second yells, finally reaching his limit with maintaining the shield, bursting it and sending the residual energy out as a wave of force. Purple’s thrown back from the sudden swell of zapping energy, stumbling across the floor. 

Immediately, once the veil of protection has now dissipated, Blue’s giddy laughter at their argument falls into a dead seriousness, her fingers locking aim and firing with both guns-- one shot aimed at the laid down figure of Mr. Shiny, and another smack in the middle of Second’s forehead. Fully prepared for Blue to fire as soon as she got the chance, Green jumps out to the side, threads released and latched tightly around both Second and Mr. Shiny, reeling and pulling them with him as he dodges the incoming bullets. Racing backwards, he finds the nearby column quickly, shielding him and Second-- who he pulls against his chest, supporting half his weight to allow him a few moments of rest-- behind it, as well as Mr. Shiny, who is dragged against the smooth floor to rest right at their feet. 

“You couldn’t wait a single second?! I’m trying to prove a point here!” He shouts over his shoulder, peeking around the base of the column before whipping his face back-- right as Blue fires out more shots. “I bet you came here to take revenge for us almost throwing your ass in jail!” 

“I wish that were the case, but we have a job to do tonight!” Blue’s voice grows louder, seemingly getting closer, but the figure that rounds the corner and suddenly appears in their view isn’t her-- rather, it’s Purple zipping in with fierce wings, pummeling down to deliver a lightning fast jab straight to Green’s jaw.

It connects, sending waves of aches through his bones, but Second’s quick to recover and reach up in a flash, catching Purple around the torso, pushing off of Green, and forcing Purple away from them with neon sparks glowing around his arms. Against the momentum of his wings, Second hurls him straight towards the winding staircase to the right, causing his back to slam harshly into the railing. 

As Second turns to look at him-- expression weighted with the residual tiredness from the loss of energy in maintaining his shield against way too many blows, bursting it into a wave, and throwing Purple, combined with his clear dissatisfaction of the argument over his face-- Green’s already raising his hands in surrender. 

“No more arguing.” Second grits out, dangerously low as he catches his breath. Green takes a gulp, nodding quickly. 

“Mhm. Yes sir.” 

Sighing, Second runs a hand through his hair-- messing up his slicked back bangs as a few strands begin to fall into his face. “Did you see Red anywhere? Those two are clearly here for Mr. Shiny, but I thought they traveled as a team of three.” 

Green shakes his head, trying to recall if he saw even a speck of crimson anywhere in their vicinity. “He’s not here-- I’m sure of it.” 

From their limited encounters, Green’s already picked up on the fact that Red’s character was a hyper one, always itching for action, loud and obvious-- and someone like that surely wouldn’t be hiding with everything going on. If he was here, Green’s sure he’d be the first one to strike a hit--

Suddenly, there’s a flash of cyan darting into their vision, racing around the column with barrels fully loaded. 

“Surprise!” Blue shouts, as another hail of bullets begin-- Green ducking down low and immediately aiming a forceful upwards kick straight to her stomach. Next to them, Second also moves to dodge the incoming shots, following Green’s strike with an upwards hit of his own at Blue’s wrist-- forcing her gun and bullets to aim upwards instead of being lodged into Green’s face. 

“It’s not much of a surprise if we already know you’re here!” He shouts, gripping onto Blue’s wrist while keeping it upturned and yanking her forwards-- kneeing her in the stomach. There’s a winded cough-- but Blue isn’t staggered for long, ripping her wrist away and making sure to bend her elbow down in a harsh, downwards movement, slamming it against Second’s kneecap as she stumbles back and balances herself. 

“Oh yeah? Well, I still got you, so I think it’s working!" Blue shoots back, sliding her guns back into their holsters and flicking out her knife instead-- an action that gets Green sprinting into moving before Second can throw back a retort or strike. 

Both hands extending threads, he aims one palm towards Mr. Shiny on the ground-- reattaching onto the man’s already bound arms-- and the other towards one of the guns latched onto Blue’s hip as he dashes away from her and Second. While the knife is a clear threat in itself, the guns are what Green’s more worried about. 

Blue’s blood, while lethal in its own right and ever-confusing, had its own drawbacks despite its painful nature. Leaving Blue fully armed with two guns, however-- ones that appear to be different models this time around, seemingly upgraded and more advanced than the first weapons she owned-- was basically a death wish. They had been lucky the first time they had fought and she owned two guns, fortunate that Yellow was able to hinder her vision and knock one off her immediately, and blessed that she wasn’t taking their fight so seriously and was instead focused on enjoying the thrill of a three-on-three brawl. The same was true for their last encounter, as Blue had been too tired and focused on trying to escape to attempt shooting them with the last gun she had left. 

But now? The moment Green or Second lowered their guard, Blue was sure to send them 6 feet under with a single bend of her finger, especially after Green messed up her shot and currently, they were the only things standing in her and Purple’s way of completing their job of murdering Mr. Shiny. It was obvious she was heavily trained in the art of sharpshooting and had no qualms on coming in close range with such weapons, and Green’s sure Second would appreciate not having to dodge a rain of bullets and splashes of blood in his about-to-begin tussle with Blue. 

His threads hit their marks as he drags Mr. Shiny against the tiled floor with legs sprinting towards Purple who seems to have recovered from Second’s throw, letting go of the man once he’s generated enough momentum to toss and slide him across the tiled ground. Mr. Shiny comes to a halt underneath a nearby dining table, safely out of the fray. 

With his left hand, one of Blue’s guns is ripped right out of her holster-- the girl whirling around in a flash to catch her fleeing weapon and attempt to tug it back into her clutches. Green’s threads are unrelenting, and with his momentum and strength combined with Second intercepting Blue’s grip through forcefully prying her fingers off by bending her thumb backwards, the gun is taken swiftly into Green’s possession. 

“Can you guys stop trying to take my guns?! I just got that one, too!” With a complaining huff, bordering on agitation, Blue snatches her hand away from Second and swipes her knife across his face-- creating a thin, sharp cut along his jaw. 

“Stop trying to shoot us and maybe we’ll let you keep your guns!” Gritting against the blood dripping down his jaw, Second sends Blue tumbling back with a fierce right hook. She hits the ground but doesn’t stay down-- rolling over and jumping to her feet with a swift gash against her own palm. Blood splashes out at the action, and from the sizzling bubbles and steam that escape the litters of droplets that hit the tiled floor, it was obvious she was in her “toxic state”-- as Yellow called it. 

“Her blood can switch”, Yellow had murmured, when they had the night to themselves and spent it in the blonde’s room, reading over her notes on what they knew about Blue. “Right now, we can’t tell exactly what causes it to change… but I have a feeling she can’t use both on the same day. Because if she could, wouldn’t she have just burned off your threads when you had her caught?”

If she was right-- as Green’s learned that Yellow often is-- the scene behind him only meant that Blue wouldn’t be able to heal any wounds the two of them managed to inflict on her. In a battle of attrition, even if Blue was frightening deadly with her acidic, scarring blood-- Second and him had the higher chance of winning in their battles. Blood loss affects everyone, especially someone whose ability relies on blood, and surely with enough time, Blue would succumb to her own fatigue. Green still remembered the lack of strength she had in her thrashing legs when they had her tied up and bound in a net on the pavement, the fact that if Red and Purple hadn’t come when they did-- Blue would be in police custody. 

But forget that-- and really, Green shouldn’t even be thinking about Blue, her blood, winning, and whatnot-- because here comes Purple, in a violent and brutal flurry of grey feathers and glittery pink. 

A sweeping right hook is aimed towards the side of Green’s face, grazing against the skin of his cheek as he throws his head back to dodge the hit as much as possible, and sends a tendril out to attach to a decorative column on the far left. The gun he’s acquired from Blue is hastily wrapped in threads from his other hand, around its grip, and tied to Green’s waist as he wraps the same extended thread around his torso and detaches it once secure. A quick fix for the fact his suit didn’t include pockets or holsters-- and Green is adamant on not using such a deadly weapon, even if Purple was going to beat the ever-loving shit out of him. 

“No longer playing the part of a lady, huh?!” Green yells as he cuts through the air, reeling himself in and away from Purple who races after him with wings spread wide and fist raised once more. Lifting his free hand up, Green shoots a tendril out to aim at Purple’s waist, winding it tightly around his torso and ensuring it’s secure before maneuvering himself in mid air to land on the side of a nearby decorative column. 

“You’re infuriating! Do you ever stop talking?!” Purple shoots back, coming in close and aiming a downwards pummel against the crown of Green’s head. 

Bending his knees and angling his legs towards the floor, Green swiftly ducks his head to dodge Purple’s hit and kicks off the column’s surface-- aiming himself to land on the tiled ground beneath. As he does so, he keeps his threads tight around Purple’s waist, using both hands to hold onto the tendril and yank down hard. 

His weight against Purple’s, as well as the momentum from his kick-off from the column, drags flapping grey feathers downwards, and in one swift movement, Green grabs a hold of the back of Purple’s shoulder and slams him into the smooth, shining floor. 

“Unfortunately for you, I can talk for hours about your magical transformation! Who dressed you up so pretty? Do you actually have more skills than just being inclined to crime and beating people up?!” 

Again, Purple growls at him-- a peculiar rumbling sound that Green still doesn’t know what about him makes such a feat possible-- before picking himself up off the floor in a flash and socking him right across the face. It’s harsh, fast, and at such close range that Green nearly loses his balance before he grits his teeth-- tasting the twinge of metal on his tongue. Recovering fast, he shoots his hand into the top of Purple’s hair, wringing his fingers between strands and twisting it down. 

Purple cries out in pain at the action, slamming his hands on Green’s shoulders, pulling him in, and attempting to knee him in the stomach-- except with the puffiness of Purple’s skirt… it doesn’t actually hit. Green barely feels a thing, save for the gust of wind traveling with the guy’s leg. 

Shocked, Green barks out laughter-- loud and shocked-- as a pinkish red flush washes over Purple’s face. Obviously embarrassed, flustered, and not at all expecting that to happen, Purple doesn’t react fast enough to Green capitalizing on his surprise, as he’s able to slip out of Purple’s grasp, place both his hands on Purple’s raised knee, and push down while kicking off his feet-- flipping forward over him to land behind this flustered princess. 

“I’m guessing you’ve never fought in a dress?!” Sending a harsh kick right into Purple’s back, smack in the middle of the base of his wings, Green sends him tumbling forwards-- earning a gasp in surprise. “That was hilariou-- mmph!” 

Sharp and flapping feathers suddenly closing in and encasing Green in a bubble of grey snaps him out of his humor, as Purple closes his wings backwards to trap Green in place. A stray feather even lodges its way into Green’s mouth, which he quickly spits out as the wings release, and he’s suddenly met with Purple whirling himself around, and sending a sweeping side kick straight towards his temple. 

“You try being in such a ridiculous outfit! I can barely move!” 

Well, that was a lie-- as Green barely has a moment to react and throw his forearm up, blocking Purple’s strike. The force of his kick is strong enough for Green to have to strain his arm and exert a significant amount of strength to push it back, away from hitting right against the side of his head at close range. Clearly, the guy could still move-- and fast too! If he didn’t block him, Green might’ve been knocked out! 

Grunting, Green pushes Purple’s leg away with a burst of strength, and attempts to use both hands to grab onto his ankle to either swing him away or knock him off his balance. Before he can do so, however, Purple is leaning back and stabilizing himself from behind with flapping wings, bringing his other leg up and briskly sending a pushkick roughly against Green’s windpipe. 

The air is knocked out of him as Green stumbles back, lungs fighting for their lost breath as he casts a glance towards Second. 

He and Blue have moved towards the center of the space where the two grand staircases winded upwards towards a higher floor, tussling in hand to hand combat with Blue utilizing her blood rather than the gun she has left. 

Second’s able to intercept a strike from Blue aimed at his throat with a hand veiled in neon green energy, a small covering to protect his skin as he catches her fist, twists it, and with a kick aimed at her torso-- tosses her off to the side. She recovers quickly, stabilizing her footing before charging back towards him with her bloodied palm. 

“It’s just you two, tonight?!” She yells, as Second swerves out of the way when she attempts to reach for him. “Where’s Yellow?! Is she not a big fan of parties?!” 

“Where’s Red?!” Second shoots back, refusing to answer and kicking her hard in the shoulder. Before he can pull his leg back, Blue’s grabbing his ankle tightly, burning through both the fabric of his dress pants and the skin underneath. He hisses in pain, kicking his leg out of Blue’s grip before stumbling back. In a flash, Blue flicks a splatter of blood straight to Second’s face that he barely dodges-- burns littering his cheeks, around his nose, and on his forehead. 

As Second takes a moment to recover, Blue zips off to the side, dashing towards the table where Mr. Shiny’s defenseless body is currently resting, already drawing her gun and preparing to fire.

Thinking quick, Green jumps and throws his head back to dodge another strike Purple sends his way while simultaneously tossing a tendril out towards Blue already in motion to pull the gun’s trigger. The threads reach out and wrap tightly around Blue’s neck in semblance to a noose-- lines digging deep into the skin of her neck and choking her breath. 

There’s a strangled gasp and a bleeding palm reaching up to burn through her restraints, but Green’s faster-- reeling her in and simultaneously sweeping his arm over to the left, striking Purple at the side of his jaw with a closed fist while push-kicking him away, and pulling with all his strength to drag Blue across the expanse of the tiled ballroom floor. With his point of contact being her neck, he uses his entire body’s force to throw and collide her against Purple-- snapping his threads as the two of them tumble and roll across the ground. There’s a shocked, concerned yelp and winded coughing as he does so. 

“Sec! Are you good?!” He shouts, racing over to Second already healing over his burns. His leg’s fully healed, and the wounds on his face are already glowing at the edges with neon green energy, closing up and fading away.  

“I’m fine! Thanks for grabbing her, she almost shot him.” 

Green nods, before raking his eyes around the messy ballroom with decorations trampled by the panicked crowd. He clicks his tongue. “God, this is a mess. Mr. Shiny must be some kind of two-timer for him to have criminals sent out to kill him at his own party--” 

Out of nowhere, a glass shard zips through the air, nearly cutting Green’s neck if he hadn’t whirled out of the way just in time, and looking back-- Blue’s back to her feet, his threads around her neck burned off and discarded. The middle of her neck is red, heavily irritated and marked deep with the lines of Green’s threads having dug harshly into her skin. Purple’s stanced behind her, wings spread fiercely and ready to attack.

Coughing, she rubs at her throat in pain before fishing out her knife-- glistening in the lights from around-- and in one swift movement, slashes Purple’s dress.

It’s a large, sweeping slice against the glittery pink fabric, as Blue rips off a long, thick piece of satin from the top layer of Purple’s dress and winds it tightly around her hand that isn’t cut. She glares daggers at Green when they make eye contact, and he subtly takes a gulp in trepidation. 

“You like choking people, huh?” She mutters, as the fabric against her hand is only held tighter. “Well, guess what? If you’re gonna choke me…I’m gonna choke you!” 

…Oh fuck. 

With that, they’re all charging towards each other once more, Purple using the cut Blue made to rip his dress clean down the center to give his legs more mobility as he shoots high up into the sky, grabbing hold of a dangling garland lined with sharp, pointy crystals. Green follows him up, dodging a lightning-fast Blue attempting to jump at him, shooting his tendrils up and hastily reeling himself in-- meeting Purple in the air and sending a rough elbow strike towards his neck. 

It hits-- but so does the jagged edge of the crystal decoration Purple wields in his hand that he’s ripped from the garland, creating a large slash against the cheek of Green’s face. Leaving a mottled bruise at the side of Purple’s neck and feeling the warm drops of blood cascading down his cheek, Green attempts to put distance between them by kicking off of the guy’s chest and attaching and swinging to the left. However, Purple isn’t thrown back enough by Green’s kick-off, as he races after him and manages to grab a tight hold onto Green’s swaying cape. 

Wings flapping wildly and fingers wringing mercilessly into fabric, Green is abruptly dragged around in a whirling circle as Purple spins him around by the cape of his outfit in a dizzying haze. Not wanting to tangle or potentially choke himself with his own threads, Green snaps his tendrils from the metal frame above-- right in time for Purple to finish his spiral of torture and send him hurling down towards the floor. 

It’s with such speed, overwhelming force, and momentum that Green is sent tumbling towards the ground around 50, 60 feet beneath them that he barely has a moment to send out a tendril to connect him to anything at all-- just to avoid the risk of breaking his entire spine from his descent. The only thing he finds above him, besides Purple watching him with a cold gaze as he drops through the air, is the massive, glistening, and ornate crystal chandelier dangling from the center of the glass dome. 

It’s clearly an unstable point of contact, as chandeliers weren’t meant to hold anything besides their own weight and only set in place by a simple fixture along the metal frame-- but it’s all Green can reach at the moment before he literally falls to his death. His body moves faster than his mind does, as when he reaches this conclusion, his hands are already raised and threads have been released to race towards the gleaming chandelier above, hoping that he’s fast enough to prevent snapping his bones on the smooth, waxed floor. 

Thankfully, his line connects, sending waves of aches down his palms, fingers, and forearms from his own weight, momentum, and gravity of falling fighting against his threads’ grip-- and he swings messily from the unstable decoration above. He’s barely able to get himself into a more upright position in the air before the chandelier tears off from its fixture on the ceiling, plunging towards the ground as Green snaps his tendrils before he’s dragged along with it and fatally injured by its weight. In a brash, echoing, and sharp clatter, jagged edges of glass, crystals, and metal pieces scatter in chaos. 

“Woah! I got you!” Suddenly, Second appears in front of Green who drops down from a couple feet in the air compared to 60. He’s caught over Second’s shoulder, the air knocked out of him at the action. “Did Purple throw you from the ceiling?!” 

Catching his breath, Green drops off of Second’s frame, rubbing his arms. “Yes! Even after I helped him, the bastard still wants to kill me! Just because I teased him a little, too! God, he’s so stingy.” 

That earns a surprised chuckle from Second, as he pats Green’s shoulder. “I told you to stop arguing with him, didn’t I? And hasn’t he always wanted to kill you?--” 

Out of nowhere, Blue appears in Green’s view, and before he can warn Second of the incoming danger, she’s already rushing in and placing a corrosive, bleeding hand straight to the nape of his neck and tugging him back. Crying out in pain, Second attempts to grab her leg as she climbs and jumps over him, but isn’t able to connect to even the passing wisps of flowing, vibrant hair. Kicking off of Second’s shoulder, Blue slams both of her feet straight into Green’s stomach-- who failed to back away far enough to evade her. 

Winded, he keels over with a pained gasp, as Blue pummels him smack at the side of his head and sends him tumbling to the ground. As they fall, Blue forces his shoulder downwards to turn him over so Green’s colliding into the floor stomach flat, pinning him down on the floor as she winds the stretch of fabric tightly around his throat-- choking him out.

Coughing and gasping, Green can hear Second fast approaching, yelling at Blue as he lifts his head up and back to try and get some kind of air into his lungs. The sound of Second’s footsteps halt, and are instead replaced with the flap of wings-- Purple intercepting and keeping any aid away from Green who’s actively losing his breath. 

“Are--” He wheezes, trying to push or roll Blue off of him to no avail. For someone so nimble, she’s conveniently heavy as Green fights to be released. He claws at the fabric ensnaring his breath, trying to find any kind of rip to break the fabric open-- but there’s no opening, nothing for his nails to catch onto and tear through the fibers. Dauntingly, he can’t even reel himself away, as Blue surely would just hold on to him if he did so, using him like some kind of skateboard. 

“Are you really that mad--” Another cough, as Blue presses harder into his back, pulling her grip tighter. “--about me, choking you?!”

“YES! Your stupid strings hurt like hell! And you messed up my perfect headshot!” 

Fuck-- fuck, Green really can’t breathe right now. The breath he used to spit out unnecessary words seemed to be the last stores that his lungs held, as his voice is failing him and his vision is beginning to swirl-- signs that he’s about to faint. 

And wow Blue has a really, really strong death grip. 

Finding the last of his energy, he focuses all his strength into his back and core, bending his spine, arching his back and kicking his legs over to strike Blue at the back of her head-- a move that he’d seen Blue do when Yellow was on top of her. It’s sloppy, messy, and his foot slips against her scalp when it makes contact-- but it’s a kick nonetheless, one that gets her to release her grip ever so slightly and give him the leeway to continue the momentum of his back arching and leg kicking over. 

Pressing his palms down on the floor and shoving his head down, Green tumbles forward with his legs kicking up, forcing Blue to get off and let go of the fabric lest she want to be caught underneath him. The second Green is upright, he sweeps his leg out to the side, striking Blue clean across the face to make her stumble back on the floor. 

A gasp, as Blue holds a hand to her face. When she drops it, there’s a harsh scrape and large, bleeding cut from the heel of Green’s shoe blooming horizontally across the bridge of her nose. “That’s my move! How’d you do that?!” 

Unwinding the fabric from his neck and tossing it away, Green clutches at his throat, gasping for air. “You… you’re not the, only one who--” He rasps, picking himself up as his breaths steady. “--got acrobatic training!” 

“Oh yeah?” She chuckles, getting up on her feet. “Well--” 

Blue’s cut off by a warbling yelp, as she ducks down just in time for Purple to be tossed over her head with Second following suit-- jumping over as he grabs ahold of Purple still mid-air and throws him into the ground. Flapping his wings wildly, Purple manages to combat the weight of being thrown with his own counter-force of his wings, and he swiftly maneuvers to be beside Blue. 

“Are you okay?!” Second skids over to his side, checking Green over.

He’s about to respond, about to tell Second that he’s fine aside from being slightly more afraid of being Blue’s target of ire-- before there’s abruptly two chairs flying through the air and racing towards their faces. 

“Go!” Purple shouts, but it isn’t to them-- rather, he’s yelling it to Blue who runs in the opposite direction, towards Mr. Shiny. 

“HEY! Get back here!” Again, Green is releasing threads out at Blue trying to kill their target, latching onto her ankle and tripping her to fall forwards. Beside him, Second takes care of the flying chairs by generating his warhammer in a flash and swinging it against the incoming projectiles. 

Utilizing her knife and ability, Blue presses her blood against Green’s thread attempting to restrain her and cuts her other hand in preparation for another tendril. She continues running, and Green continues trying to shoot out as many threads as he can to try and grab her, keeping her away from Mr. Shiny. 

Purple suddenly dives down-- grasping tightly onto Green’s lines and wringing it between his fingers, pulling hard to try and drag Green closer to Blue to give her more time to burn off his threads before he tries reeling her in. It’s nearly effective-- if not for Second swooping in and swinging the flat of his warhammer against Purple’s ribs.  

There’s a pained grunt, as grey feathers are tossed wildly to the side. “Enhanced strength and then a warhammer out of nowhere-- what even is your ability?!” 

“Why are you even asking?! I thought you hated questions!” Second shoots back, finishing one last swing with his hammer before dissipating the energy and kicking off the floor in an electric flash. He makes contact with Purple attempting to swerve out of the way-- grabbing ahold of his flapping wings and ripping his feathers out when the guy attempts to kick and punch him off. 

Relatively stagnant, Green continues his never-ending battle of trying to reel Blue back towards the three of them and immobilize her, a seemingly futile effort as she keeps on burning his threads, and slashing various parts of herself so that Green doesn’t even have anywhere to latch on to. Her arms are out of the question-- as there’s cuts at the tops of her shoulders that have blood dripping down onto her arms, and her palms are both gashed open. Her waist is also slashed at its side, shallow, but still dripping with blood. And her legs, while unwounded, are agile enough to dodge his attempts and also in convenient reach of her bleeding palms.

Green… could go for her neck again-- but he’s pretty sure Blue would literally rip him to shreds if he did so. 

Ah, but she’d rip him to shreds regardless, right? Along with Mr. Shiny, he seems to be the target of both her and Purple’s murderous intent tonight. 

…

Fuck it. 

He releases tendrils out once more-- aimed at her neck when her head turns as she continues towards Mr. Shiny, and the second he does so, Blue’s already whipping around and firing a shot that lodges itself deep into his thigh. 

“Don’t even think about it. Want me to choke you again?!” 

Green stumbles over, losing balance in his shot leg but keeps his hand steady to extend his tendril when Blue jumps back from it-- allowing it to hook on to the collar of her sweater. In the same movement, he uses his other hand in tandem to wrap yet another noose around her neck at a speed she fails to react to, this time pulling it back tightly to allow the hook of his tendrils to prick into her skin. 

“Definitely not! But there’s no way I’m letting you kill our guy!” He shouts, reeling her in before she can get the chance to burn off his tendrils again and swinging her overhead towards the back. As he does so, Blue takes the chance to splatter as much blood as she can against his unguarded frame-- burns finding their place on the tops of his shoulders, the surface of his forearm and scattering across his cheek. 

“Your guy?! He’s-- ours!” Blue chokes out, before she’s ultimately flung into range of Second, who catches her swiftly when Green’s threads detach, and in yet another swing-- launches her flying into a cluster of dining tables, chairs, and decorations. Blue isn’t able to grab onto anything, not even Purple attempting to reach out for her, before she’s sent crashing and tumbling into harsh wood, glass, and tablecloth. 

“BLUE!” Purple shouts out, head turned to see Blue down and laying in the mess of tables-- blood dripping from a deep gash against her forehead. When she turns over to her hands and knees to get up, one of her arms gives out on her-- appearing to be broken from the way it bends in an obviously wrong way. About to head towards her struggling state, he’s stopped by Second tackling him to the ground. 

“Green, go tie her up! I’ll--” Second starts, before Purple’s squaring him right in the jaw when he gets his hand free from Second’s grasp-- following his strike with a doubled-legged kick straight into the middle of his ribs. 

“Like hell you’re gonna tie her up! Don’t fucking touch her you privileged little freak!” In a flash, Purple’s slamming a fist straight into Second being kicked off of him, snapping his nose and causing blood to gush out. Immediately, once Second’s off of him, Purple’s up on his feet and grabbing the closest chair he can find-- breaking off one of its legs over his knee. The wood he holds in his hands is jagged at the edges, razor sharp with splintering points. 

The rest of the chair is hurled away from him-- towards Green who comes racing up to try and stop whatever Purple’s doing with a broken chair leg. As Green dodges the incoming furniture-now-turned-projectile, he isn’t fast enough to prevent the sharp wooden tip of the chair’s leg from being driven with a brutal force deep into the middle of Second’s stomach. 

Second-- who was still in the motions of catching his breath from Purple’s hits and trying to pick himself up-- is immediately halted by the pierce of the stabbing object, eyes wide and shocked as he looks up towards Green. In that moment, his breath is also shocked into stalling, his legs seemingly running on autopilot as all he can focus on is the blood that sprays out when Purple mercilessly rips the chair’s leg out from Second’s torso, exposing the wound to the open air. 

And everything-- all the lingering feelings Green had about helping Purple and smiling at him with friendliness instead of hostility-- it all goes crashing out the window, fleeing into a dead weight of regret when he finds Purple glaring at him as Second drops to the floor with knees buckling; staring at him with a look that shows not even the slightest ounce of pity, the slightest whisper of restraint. 

And Green knows now, is completely sure, that helping Purple was the completely wrong decision. 

“SEC!” He screams out, heart pounding and already releasing a tendril to attach to a point behind the two of them-- reeling himself in as fast as he can.

In a flash, Purple slashes at Second once more-- cutting him clean across his unguarded back when Second tries to turn away from him, tearing the cloth of his tailcoat and leaving a shallow, burning scrape. Right after, Purple turns on his heel to charge into Green-- intercepting him by grabbing on his line, winding it around his wrist before Green can detach it, and slashing him near his throat with the sharp leg. 

Throwing his head back, Green earns a shallow, thin cut over his throat rather than it being completely slit open, swinging underneath Purple’s arm and racing towards Second-- panic swirling in his chest when he finds him hunched over, trying to heal his wound with a heaving breath-- blood continuing to spill out from between the fingers he presses against the stab. 

He has to get to him-- Second can heal, of course he can, but he’s tired, he’s used his ability so much and Green’s lived with the guy long enough to know that he has a limit. He’s seen it before-- Second collapsing into a deep slumber, passing out from overusing his ability from healing one too many wounds or holding shields longer than he has to. Green’s witnessed Second’s ability drain him, as it was so heavily heavily reliant on his internal energy, letting it out in electric waves, charging it up to enhance his strength and speed, projecting it into solid planes, expelling it to generate weapons and tools, giving it away to heal others and forcing his own body to work harder by healing himself. 

And to the left, standing in the mess of tables and chairs, Blue’s back to her feet. Heavily wounded with a broken arm and dripping blood, sure, but still standing. If Green can’t get to Second, can’t get him out of the way in time when he’s literally bleeding out-- Blue is sure to land a hit on him with the gun she still has in her possession. 

This is why he hated guns so much-- deadly, lightning fast, and near-impossible to dodge when one’s guard and awareness is dropped. Blood is always spilled when guns are involved, and Green can never fully wipe away the blood he’s witnessed from relentless bullets. Bullets that are so loud so brash and wrong and terrifying-- 

With flapping wings, Purple suddenly catches on to him-- arms looping around his torso the moment Green’s able to enter a foot into Second’s space, desperately reaching out to him as he’s dragged backwards. 

“LET GO OF ME! LET GO!” He screams, thrashing wildly and elbowing Purple behind him multiple times at the sides of his ribs and trying to swing his legs out. 

Purple responds in kind to his struggle by refusing to let go of him with a tight one-armed grip and another stab with the broken chair’s leg-- straight into the back of Green’s shoulder. With a shriek of pain, Green thrashes even harder to grab and steal the splintered wood from the other’s hand, using a reverse grip to jab it into a flapping wing that enters his vicinity-- slashing grey feathers deep and painting them red. Purple smacks the wood out of his hand with a grunt of pain, holding onto him with a grip akin to a vice as his arms snake from his torso to his neck. 

Purple moves to choke him out-- aiming to either snap his neck completely or suffocate him enough to pass out, as Green increases his struggling and attempts to send threads to any object he can grab. A couple of wine glasses, silverware, and glass decorations are reeled in with his hands to smash against any part of Purple he can reach-- but with the guy behind him, Green isn’t able to get a clean enough hit, and the two of them continue to whirl around and struggle. 

The bullet wound in his thigh saps half of his legs’ strength-- a detail that Purple capitalizes on as he kicks the back of Green’s knee to buckle his legs-- and his heart drops straight to his stomach when he finds Blue staggering out of the mess of tables, slowly drawing her gun with a pained expression. At her side, her broken arm lays limp, blood still trickling off its gashes. 

“Blue, don’t you fucking dare! STAY AWAY FROM HIM!" 

His yells are blatantly ignored, Blue not even sparing him a glance as she continues to step forward and slowly level her aim, right at Second who is trying his best to scramble from the floor and get away. There’s a flurry of neon particles hovering around him and his face is strained from the effort he puts into trying to converge a shield for himself-- a futile effort as blood drips from his middle with every movement he tries, and when he actually does manage to get to his feet, Blue’s firing three more times. Thankfully, the shots aren’t in immediate fatal areas and Second’s able to project just enough energy to generate a tiny shield in front of his head to ricochet one of the bullets, but the other two lodging into the side of his torso and the shin of his leg force him to fall back to the ground. His miniscule shield dissipates as he hits the floor. 

Second’s body is working on autopilot to heal his various wounds-- judging from the dim neon light shining against the red of his blood, but it’s too slow, too staggered from him already being fatigued from their earlier scuffling, and if anything-- it’s only draining him more and lowering his defenses. 

Any threads Green attempts to send out in his frenzy don’t meet their mark as Purple continues to swing him wildly around in his attempt to take Green to the ground and immobilize him-- and for a moment, the thought of snapping the threads around his waist and drawing Blue’s gun to shoot at her crosses his mind. It scares him-- that he’d even think of resorting to such a deadly tactic with a weapon he was so against, but what was he supposed to do? Second-- if he didn’t recover or move in time-- is about to be shot dead by her!

Suddenly, and snapping himself out of his thoughts, violet strands of hair fall into his reach during their struggle, and Green wastes no time in grabbing onto flowing spirals and tugging on them so hard he’s sure to rip Purple’s hair right out of his scalp. 

There’s yelps and cries of pain as Green manages to tear a handful of hair into his palm before he’s whirled around, tossed to the ground so hard he bounces with his head slamming straight into the tiles, and is immediately pinned down on his back by Purple overtop of him. 

A combo of an uppercut followed by a sweeping cross punch is slammed straight into his jaw-- causing blood to fly out of his mouth. Between punches, there’s a hand grabbing and tugging at Blue’s gun still tied to his waist. 

“God, why won’t these stupid things break?!” Pulling as hard as he can, Purple attempts to unwind and release Blue’s gun from Green’s restraints-- continuing to pummel his neck, the sides of his head, and his chin between his efforts. Temporarily dazed from his head slamming onto the ground in the previous throw, his bleeding thigh, the ferocity of Purple’s punches, the weight of the guy on top of him, and the fatigue of previous injuries starting to settle in, Green’s attempts at kicking the guy off, rolling to the side or even blocking his punches with his own hands fail to save him from the blows. 

This can’t end here-- not like this, not tonight. Not tonight where he and Second promised Chosen they’d be able to handle this, that they’d succeed and get the guy into custody, that they’d be fine. Not when he and Yellow are still waiting for them-- not when it was Green’s fault that Purple even had the chance to attack. 

Green’s the one who made this mess. He can’t let Second suffer because of it. 

So with gritted teeth, ignoring and pushing past the pain aching all over his body, he refocuses his swirling, hazing vision-- biting down on his bottom lip to keep himself aware-- and throws his hands down towards his waist to snap the threads tying Blue’s gun to him. He grabs it before Purple can, and lifting up his hips with all the strength he can muster with a bleeding leg, he shifts Purple’s weight to fall forward as Green strikes him clean at the side of his head with the barrel of the gun. 

“GET-- OFF!” He screams, his voice raspy and raw-- as he capitalizes on the moment Purple’s head is whipped to the side from his hit, swallowing down his pride, fear, and restraint to press the gun’s muzzle flat against Purple’s shoulder and pull the trigger. 

The bullet zips out with a brash, ear piercing sound as Purple's blood splashes on his face-- and Green feels sick. 

With a cry of pain, Purple backs off of him with a last, final kick towards Green’s ribs as he rolls over and scrambles into standing. His balance is off, with barely any of his weight being supported by his injured thigh, but he forces himself to keep steady, stand tall and find Second in the midst of his pain. 

Thankfully, he’s still alive-- still breathing yet bleeding with his stab wound and four more bullet holes lodged into his left arm, the side of his torso, his right shoulder, and the shin of one of his legs. With his right arm, he holds random pieces of glass shards he’s collected from the ground that cut into his palm-- tossing them messily towards Blue who doesn’t come towards him, but instead moves towards Mr. Shiny while swerving to dodge the shards racing at her. 

Green ignores her-- ignores the fact that she’s nearly at a close enough standing where she could easily draw her gun and send Mr. Shiny into his grave, and chooses to run towards Second instead. 

“Give that back!” 

Purple ironically helps Green in making it towards his friend, as he barrels into him with a swerving force-- kicking both legs hard into his back to cause him to trip forward and crash into the ground while ripping Blue’s gun out of his grip. Green lands wrong on his ankle as he tumbles to the floor, spraining it as his fingers release the weapon easily. He feels nauseous just holding such an object after what he did with it, and he’s close enough to come into contact with Second. 

There’s a beat of nothingness, before Purple flies off towards Blue locking aim against Mr. Shiny, and no other hits are made towards them. 

“Sec-- Sec! How’s the bleeding? Are you okay? Are-- please tell me you’re fine, I--” Green rambles, down on his knees and nearly leaning on Second with his hands placed on the other’s shoulders, gaze darting around everywhere to find blood dripping off  him. It’s frightening-- how the stab in Second’s stomach still hasn’t healed over, and the bullet holes littering his limbs heal at a sluggish, slow pace. 

Why hadn’t he healed already? Why is he still bleeding? Was his ability not working? Was he too tired? Can he breathe? Is he running out of energy? Is he about to pass out, or collapse, or bleed out with Green right here, or, or-- 

“Green--” Second laughs, laughs like Green isn’t about to spiral into a breakdown of a panic from all the blood pooling out of Second, someone who usually is never injured because he can literally heal himself. Softly, Second bumps the top of his head against Green’s, a comforting gesture as his chuckles turn tired and clearly fatigued, his eyes blinking rapidly as if to keep himself awake. 

“Calm down, I’m, I’m fine. For now.” He takes a breath in, clutching onto his stomach as his eyes rake over Green and his injuries. 

“Why won’t you heal yourself?” Green blurts, unable to tear his eyes away from all the blood. “Do it quickly, before they come back--!” 

“Shh.” Second shushes him immediately, shaking his head. “You first. Can you come closer? I can’t--” Second hisses in pain when he tries to lift his left arm up to reach for Green’s face. “Ow, fuck- wow, that hurts..” 

There’s sudden echoes of gunshots sounding out-- two, three shots fired in quick succession, and Green’s sure that Mr. Shiny is a goner, sure that their mission for tonight has ended in a messy, bloodied failure. 

But none of that matters-- not right now, because he’s already failed and since they’re both injured to the point where all Green wants to do is lie down and wallow in his own blood, bruises, scrapes, and regret, he shuffles closer to Second on the floor. 

“Well… there he goes.” He mutters, as Second lifts a hand up as high as he can to bring neon, glowing energy to the beatdown of Green’s face. The myriad of wounds and hits on his face simmer down from a burning pain to a faint tingling. “..Think they’re gonna kill us next?” 

A hum, drowsy and oddly calm. “He isn’t dead yet.” Second turns his head towards him, giving him a reassuring smile. “Neither are we.” 

What?

“He isn’t dead yet?” Green repeats, befuddled as he whips his head towards Mr. Shiny, Blue, and Purple. The man is deathly still, and blood begins to seep out on the floor around him. Purple and Blue have already started moving towards each other, Blue tucking her guns away into their holsters with her still usable arm and Purple ruffling his wings out. 

“What are you talking about, Sec? She shot him! Three times! How could he survive--” 

“Two in the chest, one… one in the leg.” Second corrects, as the wounds on Green’s face close up, cease their swelling, and fade into nothingness, and Second slowly gestures for Green to give him his ankle. 

“She didn’t take--” He pauses for a moment to shake his head, his eyes blinking ever more rapidly. “--it’s not a headshot. I have at least 2 minutes.” 

2 minutes. The typical minimum amount of time to stop someone from bleeding out due to a chest wound. Did Second intend to heal Mr. Shiny after the two of them left? In the state he’s currently in??

“You should heal yourself first!” Green argues, as the pain in his ankle is alleviated and Second drags him closer by the wrist to heal the stab wound at the back of his shoulder. “You’re bleeding all over, there’s no way you’re gonna be able to heal him before you pass out!” 

There’s a puff of tired laughter, and Second’s eyes light up with determination despite his drowsiness as their gazes meet. “What, do you doubt me? Don’t.. Don’t think I can do it?” He jokes, as Green’s stab closes up. “You’re gonna… make me cry, Green. I’m gonna tell Cho on you.” 

Weakly, Green cracks a smile at that, grabbing Second’s hand and patting it soothingly. “I didn’t mean it like that.. I’m just--” His smile falls, as he lowers his head. “I’m sorry, this-- it’s my fault, I should’ve--” 

Overhead, there’s an abrupt flap of wings, and looking up-- the two of them find Purple taking off in the air, carrying Blue in his arms. Both of them look down at Second and Green with cold gazes, but all that previous agitation and murderous intent is lost as the two no longer see them as threats. Blue and Purple’s job was done, anyway, and it was clear they wanted nothing more to do with hero sidekicks. 

“You’re healed.” Second whispers to him, as Purple continues to fly out towards the exit-- at a slower pace than before due to the wound on his wing-- confident that there would be no more hits to him. Glancing down at his body, Green finds that he’s back to good shape, no longer littered with bruises or scrapes or blood-- save for the splatters staining his stark-white suit. Residual aches linger in his bones, but he’s healed enough to move, steady enough to run if he really pushed himself. 

And with a nod of encouragement, eyes that glint with trust and resilience, Second pushes him forward with a warm, firm hand-- towards the fleeing pair. 

“Go get them.” 

Reinvigorated and grateful for all of Second’s efforts, Green jumps to his feet, back into action as he sends both his hands in opposite directions. One releases threads out towards Mr. Shiny’s bleeding body, catching on and reeling the man in to hand over to Second-- and the other shooting out threads that aim towards the frame of the ballroom’s exit, where Purple and Blue fly through. 

“I don’t doubt you, Sec, I wouldn’t dare! I’ll see you later, alright?!” Reeling himself in towards the exit after delivering Mr. Shiny over, Green cuts through the air with a final look and yell towards his best friend. There’s a knowing nod and grin sent back at him, and a moment later-- Green’s swinging out into the open, night wind. 

His thread detaches as he finds himself amongst the garden outside of the ballroom expanse, and running out through cobblestone roads, lush greenery, and floral arrangements-- he finds exactly who he’s looking for high in the sky. Purple’s flying through the air without a single glance back, both him and Blue completely unguarded. Green races after them on foot, trying to keep up with the flapping pace of grey feathers as he exits the courtyard and jumps over a fence to continue traveling down the empty streets of the city landscape. It’s midnight by now-- and residents with common sense know to be in their homes at this hour. 

Glancing up to the sides, Green latches on to the closest streetlight to reel himself upwards, swinging himself to land on the roof of the nearby building. He’s placed himself at a near equal elevation with Purple as he sprints across rooftops, jumps, and reels himself over to the next building in front of him-- aiming to come close enough to latch onto Purple flapping by. 

In his arms, Blue notices Green first. 

“Are you still coming after us?!” With a grunt of pain, she turns and draws one of her guns with her unbroken arm. “We already got the guy, leave us alone!” 

“I’m coming after you guys because you got him! Did you think I’d just let you get away?!” Leaping over to the next rooftop, Green ducks down and rolls swiftly to dodge a bullet zipping towards him. He comes naturally back up to his feet just in time to  spring over to the next incoming building.

“I thought you'd be hanging back with your friend!” Purple yells back, swerving to the side as he dodges a tendril shot out at his ankle. “You seemed to be more worried about him than doing your actual job, anyway!” 

He lets his dodged thread extend towards the other side of the street, attaching onto the streetlight across as he kicks off the roof he's currently on and reels himself in. As he glides across, his leg is flicked outwards to strike Purple at the side of his ribs-- disrupting his flight as he scrambles to keep himself balanced. 

“Of course I was more worried about Sec! You tried to kill him! What kind of person stabs someone with a broken chair leg?!” 

Touching down on the next building, Green detaches himself and continues sprinting against the roofs. From his kick, Purple's hold on Blue has shifted to his detriment, as his hands graze against her open, bleeding wounds when he tries to steady himself. 

“Agh- fuck!-” Purple curses, when Blue nearly drops from the sky as his hands reflexively jerk back from the burns seeping into his skin. He doesn't let her fall, changing his hands to be around her arms as she yelps and squirms around-- another fatal move as Purple grabs directly onto her broken arm to try and drag her upwards. 

“Ow-ow-ow-ow!! Purp’, my arm!!” 

“There's nothing else to grab on to! Hold on-- I-” 

“Nothing to grab on to, huh?! Well grab on to this!” 

Taking advantage of their struggle, Green's able to come into close enough range to launch himself from the building he ran on, slamming straight into Purple's back as he practically sits on the guy to pummel the back of his head-- forcing his wings to lose their momentum and sending all three of them racing towards the ground. 

“Get off!” Blue yells, exerted with pain as she climbs over Purple’s shoulder as much as she can while still being held by him, wildly swinging the barrel of her gun to strike against Green. 

When he dodges her hit, she locks aim immediately to try and shoot him down. She fires-- 3, 4 bullets out at Green who has to twist, turn, and maneuver his body as best he can in this vulnerable position to dodge the most lethal bullets. An almost successful attempt as he doesn’t die, but earns a graze against the side of his torso, a cut along the skin of his clavicle. Right as his blood splashes out his wounds, Purple’s throwing him off his back with a surge of strength-- barrel rolling in the sky while holding onto Blue with gritted teeth. 

Before he can be thrown too far out of range, Green’s throwing out tendrils to latch tightly onto Purple’s ankle-- reeling himself in to be dangled from Purple’s leg and his wings flap desperately harder, trying to keep him and Blue in the air. 

With Green’s added weight, they’re close to nearing the ground--Purple’s wings seemingly unable to flap any harder and lift them any higher with one of them being injured-- so Green grits his teeth, pushes past the pain, and continues to reel himself in as close as possible. Close enough where he comes face to face with Blue and her gun that’s aimed right at him, and he snaps his threads just in time to grab onto Purple’s bleeding wing and slam a palm against the barrel of Blue’s gun to aim it upwards into the sky and not at his vulnerable forehead. With Green’s tight grip, pressing painfully deep into the gash between grey feathers, Purple can no longer fly steady, and the rate of their descent towards concrete rapidly increases. 

A shot fires out into the clouds from Blue’s gun being parried, and Green prepares to level another hit or block another blow before everything-- stops. 

And there’s a hand on his neck. 

“Woah there, Princess, you got something caught in your skirt.” 

There’s a voice-- new, foreign, and laxly low-- sounding out from the hand snaking around his neck that holds Green in the air so tight his feet dangle aimlessly and his breath’s ensnared in an instant. Craning his head downwards as much as he can, straining against the grip that only tightens when he does so-- he finds a man with vivid, tussled vermillion hair, equally vibrant eyes and sharp, pointy teeth. 

Where has he seen those features before? His hair, his build, his eyes, just the general look of the guy seemed so… familiar. 

Before Green can think any longer, the man smiles, amused as there’s winded coughing at his side. Over the man’s shoulder, Purple’s been caught with his stomach pressing into the other’s frame-- coughing and catching his breath that’s been knocked out of him. He slowly lifts himself up from over his shoulder, exhaustion and a shallow fluster written on his face.

“Don’t call me that. I’m taking this shit off the second we get home.” 

Purple moves to drop off of the man’s shoulder, but Green’s thread is still attached to his ankle-- tight and restricting and still connected to his palm. A detail that Green tries to focus on rather than this strange man who appears before him, as he tries to hastily reel Purple in closer, and hopefully release the vice-like grip on his neck. 

Yet the moment he even starts to do so, there’s a staticky, glitchy, and sharp red and black blade being flicking out from the vermillion man’s free hand, and with the slightest touch to his tendrils, it’s gone. 

Gone-- as in, Green’s usual unbreakable threads dissipate immediately where the man’s blade touches, black blips of unknown origin completely erasing it from existence. The frightening static even starts to travel up the remaining thread that is still attached to his hand, which Green quickly snaps off to prevent it from reaching him. 

What was that-- his ability? What kind of ability was that?! Strong enough to burn through the fibers of his tendrils with just a tap, and bringing with it a wave of danger that tells Green he has to get away. 

There’s a chuckle, as the man shifts his grip from Green’s neck to the collar of his suit and brings him closer to his face once Purple shuffles off of his shoulder. And in their close vicinity, staring deep into the guy’s eyes that are alight with the hues of raging flames, finding nothing but prideful enjoyment at the way Green freezes in his grip, and feeling the hairs on the nape of his neck stand on edge at the muted staticky blips of the blade that’s moved to be held inches away from his throat-- 

Green knows exactly who this could be.

Surely, this man had to be The Dark Lord-- right? The criminal serial killer that Green’s seen blurry, obscure depictions of and had to rely on written details alone to visualize. The villain that Chosen’s been searching for day in and day out. 

Obviously, the description matched-- with his blazing neon red hair and sharp eyes, and the way he easily towered over Green in terms of height. And who else could possibly exude this amount of danger with just a simple blade and a devoid look in his eyes, and possess an ability that allowed him to generate such a lethal weapon? 

Green still remembered the description of The Dark Lord's ability inside the document they were all given-- short, vague, and with a name that was both curious and confusing. Hellflame/Corrode, it had read, and he can recall Yellow muttering how the two names didn't seem to hold any relation. 

The blade that was just in play disintegrated whatever it touched, vaporized Green's threads like it was nothing. 

Corrode sounds like a fitting name for the ability of such a weapon. 

Suddenly, there’s a hiss of pain-- sounding out from behind The Dark Lord. Green doesn’t dare to rip his eyes away from ones reeking with peril, and thankfully he doesn’t have to-- as The Dark Lord is turning his head to glance over, allowing Green a broader view.

“Sorry! Sorry, are you okay?! What happened to your arm?” Red appears before him, hands out in a panic as Blue is dropped gently to the ground by a ghastly, glowing bear. He must’ve summoned the animal to catch Blue being tossed out of Purple’s grip as The Dark Lord caught him, preventing her from hitting the concrete below yet apparently still aggravating her broken arm. He takes this all in, connecting the dots and deeming it sensible, but the more pressing thought at hand in Green’s mind is--

Was Red with The Dark Lord? Why? How? Were they all acquainted with him? 

“Broken.” Blue grits out, as she settles herself down into sitting on the ground, cradling her arm. She sighs, looking back up towards Red-- who Green is now noticing has blood smeared across his face. “Thanks for the catch.” 

“Mhm, take it easy, okay?” Grinning, as if there wasn’t blood covering the right cheek of his face, staining the collar of his hoodie, and painting the bends of his knuckles, Red pats Blue’s head gently, fixing her hair in the process. Turning over to the side, he kneels down and pops back up into standing as he picks up a random cake box from the floor. “Look, we got cake! It’s--” 

Red cuts himself off with a gasp, eyes locking onto Green’s and dashing up to The Dark Lord’s side, eagerly and comfortably-- even bumping into the man’s shoulder as he bounds over. The man pays no mind to the gesture, and doesn’t even look the slightest bit offended-- like this was normal. The familiarity between them is unnerving, but even more threatening is The Dark Lord’s gaze returning to Green’s in a snap, lifting him higher into the air before slamming him back-first into the cement, hand returning to his neck. 

Any remnants of lingering air in Green’s lungs is immediately cast away-- as The Dark Lord pins him to the ground and chokes him even harder than before, something that Green didn’t even think was possible. He claws uselessly at his neck, trying to send out threads that are immediately dissipated and cut the second they’re shot out by the mysterious, terrifying black blade. 

“Hey, Green! You look nice, white’s a good color on you!” Red laughs by the man’s side, squatting down with the cakebox resting on his knees as he takes in all the details of Green’s ruined suit. “Oh, but I guess it’s more red than white now, huh? Are you trying to match with me?” 

“L-let-- go..!” Ignoring Red’s teasing, he digs his nails deep into the skin of The Dark Lord’s fingers, scraping at his skin. 

It’s a futile effort, one that doesn’t even get the man to flinch-- pushing Green to try again in sending tendrils quick enough to the nearest building and reel himself far, far away. Yet the blade is brought out once more, lazily and with no effort snapping every thread he releases. Flailing as much as he can-- which isn’t much as The Dark Lord leaves him almost no room for movement overtop of him-- Green manages to get a sloppy, weak kick against the side of the guy’s torso. It does nothing, the man only raising an unimpressed eyebrow up, and-- 

There’s a sudden slash at Green’s calf, a sharp blade ripping a gash through his dress pants and slicing his skin. 

“AGH!--” He cries out, wincing and hissing at the sharp pain, forcing his gaze down as much as he can to find Red with a knife in hand and cakebox discarded to the side, glaring at him with something cold, cruel. 

“Watch your leg.”  Red mutters, oddly protective of The Dark Lord who pridefully chuckles at his actions, using his free hand to pet at Red's head. 

“Take it easy, now. That kick was absolutely pathetic, I didn’t even feel a thing.” He turns back to Green, coming back up into standing as he drags him off the ground and forces him onto his knees, making him kneel before him. 

“Wanna see what a real kick looks like?” The Dark Lord offers, and the second Green blinks-- he’s tossed upwards by the hand dragging his neck, and a crushing, unbearable weight hammers directly into his ribs that echo in a resounding crack. 

Flying across the street at an unfathomable speed, Green’s slamming into the nearby parked car, denting its doors and metal frame, bashing the back of his head against shattering glass windows, and setting off its alarms. Blood sprays out of his mouth from the impact, and he coughs and sputters relentlessly, drops of crimson dribbling out of his mouth, falling in splatters against his clothes. He’s slid against the car and back down onto the floor, his limbs feeling overwhelmingly heavy, and the bellows of the car’s sirens ringing over and over in his ears until Green’s head is pounding with waves of aches. He silently hopes that his hearing aid was still intact, as Yellow had worked so hard on it. Judging from the way he can still hear the blaring alarms, it seems to be in good condition. 

A trickling sensation tingles down the side of his head, and when vermillion enters his vision once more-- The Dark Lord slowly approaching him as Green’s vision begins to swirl and fade-- he wonders if this was truly how he was meant to go out. He couldn’t move his arms, or legs, or even lift his head up from the way everything feels weighted down as if they were lead, and he’s almost completely positive there’s a clean crack down his skull. It didn’t help that his ribs felt shattered, didn’t help that he couldn’t even breathe without tasting blood. 

Was Second okay, back at the ballroom? Had he managed to heal himself after tending to Mr. Shiny? If the man was still alive, and Second was well enough to take him into custody-- that meant a success, right? 

“Wow, are you sure you’re a sidekick? ‘Cause you look like shit after just one blow.” There’s a mocking tease spit out by The Dark Lord who leans over him, a hand resting against the destroyed car’s frame and head looking down. In his hazy vision, Green can barely make out the man’s face, and instead lets his gaze fall down to the sidewalk across, finding Purple watching them. It’s straining to try and figure out his expression, but Green’s sure it’s something akin to indifference. 

Purple didn’t care about him, anyway. (And Green had only killed himself by caring for Purple.)

“Hm, but I guess it makes sense for someone like you to be his helper.” Straightening himself out, The Dark Lord takes a step back and flicks out his blade once more. “Always had the habit of picking the worst people to be by his side--” 

Out of nowhere, there’s a familiar sound of an energy singe, an audible takeoff from somewhere down the street, and a flicking, neon glow appearing in Green’s dizzying vision. 

“GET AWAY FROM HIM!”

In a flash, Second is barreling towards The Dark Lord-- fearless and ferocious, but seemingly running on fumes as his charged attack hits but doesn’t stun. Doesn’t stagger The Dark Lord at all as he blocks Second with a raised forearm, and in one swift movement, brings his other hand around to pummel Second directly at the side of his head-- with enough strength that Second’s neck twists painfully to the side-- and brings his leg up to kick him away in a burst of force, sending him barreling and tumbling down the street. 

“You get away from me.” The Dark Lord spits out, words laced with a bitter venom as he glares at Second crumpled in the street, struggling to get up and heavily disoriented. He takes one last glance down at Green before turning away, seemingly satisfied. 

“Come on, get moving.” He commands, pushing a hand against Red’s back to force him forwards. Glancing towards Blue and Purple, all he has to do is tilt his head, and the two are already following suit. Purple spares one last gaze at Green, but his vision has already begun to static out, and he doesn’t bother with trying to decipher what could possibly be behind the other’s gaze. 

The four of them leave, turning the corner into the darkness and letting Green and Second rot in the city streets. 

“Gr- Green--” Voice sounding far away, Second’s staggering towards him, exhausted and nearly about to faint. He appears to have landed wrong on his leg, as he drags it behind him, and there’s a blooming, mottled bruise beginning to seep out blood at the side of his head. There’s miniscule, tiny sparks of electricity that arc off of him, but when he drops to his knees at Green’s side, there’s not even the slightest feeling of a tingle. 

“..hi..” He greets weakly, as Second leans heavily on his side, holding a shaking hand towards his head. “You.. okay?” 

“‘m head’s.. spinnin’.” 

Blinking slowly, he tries to nod. His head barely moves. “Mhm.. me-- too..” 

Healing the two of them simultaneously and expending what seems to be the last reserves of his energy before he passes out, Second envelopes them in a glow of healing energy, particles floating up and around them. It’s slow, but Green eventually feels the burning sensation in his chest alleviate just a tiny bit. Eyes slipping closed, Second’s head falls lax on Green’s shoulder, but the energy continues to flow steadily-- a sign that he isn’t asleep just yet. 

Shuffling carefully around his wounds and Second leaning on him, Green’s able to fish out his phone from his suit pocket, the screen messily cracked. Tonight’s mission hadn’t been monitored by Yellow on comms, as their mics and earpieces were safely at home, being tinkered and upgraded. Green wishes he hadn’t been so confident about tonight’s mission, to the point where he and Second agreed they wouldn’t need such devices if they were together. 

With a struggle and squinted eyes against the harsh brightness of his screen, Green finds Yellow’s contact easily, and uses the last of his strength to hold his phone to his ear. It rings only once before she picks up. 

“Green, hey! Chosen was just notified that the police have Mr. Shiny in custody, but he’s in critical condition. Are you guys alright? Where are you?” 

“Uh..” He starts, dumbly as he shakes his head, drops of blood coming into his vision. “In.. in the s- street? I.. Sec and I--” 

Upon hearing his words, there’s immediate concern seeping into Yellow’s voice, as her tone drops into urgency. “Green, are you injured? Where are you hurt? Hold on, I’m getting your location-- don’t hang up, okay?” 

Humming a response that’s slurred and barely there, Green tries his hardest to keep his eyes open, his ragged breathing steady, and the grip around his phone strong-- but Second’s apparently run out of steam, passing out completely on Green’s shoulder as the healing energy encircling him begins to fade. Second’s ability could heal himself internally even when passed out, but for Green, it seemed like he was on his own now. 

The pain comes crashing back in throbs and aches all over his body, especially in his head that continues to seep blood, and soon enough-- Green drops the phone onto the concrete and finds himself delving into darkness. 

When he wakes, it’s to the feeling of someone carrying him down cold, windy streets-- and up above, the moon has taken its place high up in the starry, dim sky that shows it’s still nighttime. Straining to turn his head, he catches sight of strands that are a deep, rich black in hue, belonging to the person who’s currently holding Green against his chest and secure in his arms. It’s Chosen, somehow here in the city when he’s supposed to be at home, but before Green can mutter even the slightest words of surprise, there’s a cough and a flurry of blood ripping its way out of his lungs and mouth. 

“Green!” A yell filled with concern hits his ears, and as Chosen drops to the ground to place Green sitting upright-- leveling a steady hand against his back-- he finds Yellow standing next to him with a overwhelmingly drowsy Second being supported with one hand over her shoulders. 

“Yel-- low?-” He sputters out, trying to let air enter his lungs. Yellow’s dropping to the floor slowly, keeping Second supported as she comfortingly places a hand on his shoulder. 

“Shh, just breathe-- don’t say anything. We’ll get you treated soon, okay? You’re fine, everything’s fine..” Words rambling, Yellow sounds like she’s trying to convince herself rather than Green, and the way her fingers reflexively tighten around his shoulder only further his belief. 

She’s right, Green should stop talking and just focus on breathing and prevent aggravating his injuries further, but there’s something he has to say first. Chosen needs to know who they just ran into. 

Taking a deep breath, he turns towards Chosen as much as he can, feeling his ribs scream at the action. His frame starts to shake from the pain, but he keeps himself steady. 

“Chosen-- I, I gotta tell you.. some- something-” 

“Not now.” Chosen interjects immediately, generating calming ice in his hand to press against Green’s definitely bruised back. “Tell me after--” 

“We saw The Dark Lord.” 

It’s blurted out messily, recklessly as Green’s losing his breath, and the moment he utters that one sentence, that one glaring detail-- Chosen’s freezing in his place, eyes blowing wider than Green’s ever seen them. 

“You… what?” 

And the air turns cold.