CW: Attempted Sexual Assault

 

“This is a stupid idea.”

“Trust me! It’ll work.”

“It won’t.” Luis cursed beneath his breath. Gregor was so prone to these flights of fancy; he should’ve made the decision long ago to ditch him. But… he sighed. Luis couldn’t quite bring himself to do it. Gregor’s smile was infectious, as was his profound sense of optimism. More often than not, Luis would allow himself to be dragged along on Gregor’s “sure thing” ideas just to see how they’d turn out, if he’d actually worked the math out or not.

Gregor roughly planted his hand at the small of Luis’ back as they stood awkwardly at the secluded entrance of some estate Gregor had brought him to in Santa Monica. “They’re out of town! We’ll have the whole place to ourselves.”

Luis looked around, inspecting their surroundings. The home itself was a three-story, open floor plan building with tan stucco siding and ornate-looking red tile shingles upon the roof. He crouched in the arched doorway housing the sturdy wooden door and inspected the security system key-pad the occupants had likely set before leaving.

“Well,” Luis admitted, “if they’re going to make it so easy…” A rumble, small at first before expanding quickly, roared up his vocal cords with intense vibration and reverb. Puffing his cheeks up to keep the nearby glass from shattering, he gently whistled into the number pad jutting out next to the door. Several sparks popped out in small, yellow flashes before the system seemed to go dead. Not missing a beat, Luis clambered over to the door and produced a lock-pick set he’d swiped from a security shop back in New Orleans before leaving. Unfurling the leather case, he produced a pick he felt fairly confident would do the trick. He glided it into the lock’s opening alongside his torque, gently maneuvering the two tools in the small space.

“Where’d you even pick that up?” Gregor commented in a low tone, something Luis was always thankful for in the moment.

Only a gentle shrug of Luis’ shoulders was visible as he focused his attention. “Parents had a knack for locking things that weren’t theirs away. Needed to get them back.” 

The third tumbler back wasn’t moving as Luis had expected. He fell back a step, working back from the second tumbler. “Rusted piece of shit…”

Gregor tapped lightly at Luis’ side. “Uh… Luis? Got pigs rolling down the street. We’re out of view, but they could still see us. Not too keen on seeing what eighteen-year-olds get for trespassing, dude.”

Luis bit at his lip. That third tumbler just wasn’t moving. He couldn’t force the door; the chance the homeowners had a secondary system was too big. He kept working at it, pushing with bated breath. After more sustained prodding, it finally gave way and slipped into position. Gregor’s tapping only grew more urgent as Luis continued through tumblers four, five, and six. The sudden white glow of a flashlight on trees in his periphery nearly caused him to lose the position of the torque, but the sudden jolt was all tumbler seven needed to pop into position.

He quickly opened the door, pulling Gregor inside and closing the door as quietly as he could.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Luis looked up at Gregor, who wore a smirking smile while crouching over him.

“Come here often?” Gregor purred.

Luis looked around. “Sure. Why not?”

 

* * *

 

“No, no, no, this is bullshit!” Harpy cursed, though it didn’t carry far in his half-breath voice. 

I — I look like… 

Yes, the resemblance is uncanny. Now hurry your ass behind that dumpster. We look like a drugged-out whore out for her morning stroll.

With passing bystanders beginning to take notice and stare, he forced himself still and adopted a loose posture. He retreated behind a nearby dumpster at a leisurely pace, ducking behind it quickly once he was able. He breathed in and out, utilizing a rhythmic breathing exercise he’d picked up when he was still afraid of heights.

“What is happening to me…” He raised his shaking hands up before his eyes, unnerved beyond belief that what was unfolding was real. Why was he hearing a voice in his head? Where was it coming from? Who was it coming from? He closed his eyes tight and clenched his jaw. Struggling for enough coverage to stop his rear from resting on the pavement, he instead pushed against the dumpster for support and resumed his rhythmic breathing.

“Just… need to change back,” he whispered. He willed his muscles to relax and sighed deeply. Keeping your alter form on felt good, but it was also akin to keeping your fist closed, and, frequently, some release was in order. Harpy exhaled through his nose as he expected the tranquil rush of his alter form to come to an end and allow his default form to come rushing back.

He opened his eyes and gazed longingly over his body.

Two bumps on his chest stared back. Harpy frowned. He idly poked at his teeth, confirming he hadn’t changed back. That was new. 

Not... a good sign.

Would you look at that? Still tits! Maybe second time’s the charm, bud?

Harpy let his head drop back against the dumpster, causing a loud clang to erupt from the metal. Several raccoons leapt out onto the pavement and skittered away..

Well. It’s official. I’m insane.

Low-toned laughter tore his introverted thoughts outward. Several figures were approaching from the other side of the alley. As they approached, they signaled Harpy’s presence to the others, drawing all of their eyes to the half-dressed girl Harpy now resembled.

He cast his eyes towards the ground, an uncharacteristic move he couldn’t help but be conscious of. Hopefully the group would pass by without issue, but he suspected fate had deigned that unlikely to happen.

One of them called out to Harpy. “Hey, what’re you doing around here, baby?” Fear, an emotion Harpy had kept such a tight control over as long as he could remember, began entangling itself like a creeping vine through all of his muscles and effectively immobilizing him where he crouched.

W-what’s… what is this? Why am I so afraid of a bunch of punks?

The group of guys, all no older than nineteen or twenty if Harpy’s steadily downcast eyes weren’t deceiving him, surrounded Harpy in a half-circle around the dumpster. The leader wasn’t hard to pick out; the others deferred to him as he yanked Harpy to his feet with a tug of his wrist.

“You trying to have some scary group pick you up, sweetie?” He smiled what seemed on the surface to be a genuine grin, but it never quite reached his eyes. “Being half-naked in an alley is a great way to meet some skeezy people.”

Alternatively, it’s also a way to meet new punching bags.

Harpy stared up at the imposing man before him. While not as tall as Miracle Maiden, he was still sizable and had a foot in height on him. Harpy struggled weakly against the man — he could still feel something resembling his normally enhanced-strength welling in his muscles, but remained where he stood, something deep within him unable to assert itself. The man pulled Harpy close to his chest and peered down at him with lecherous eyes. Harpy grimaced and tried to pull away. Why was he freezing up? This is exactly the kind of bozo Harpy was glad to wipe the bartop with, be it first thing in the morning or the last call of the night. All it would take was one punch to the throat or — hell, the crotch or nose, too, for that matter. But his body just wasn’t responding.

“Stop…” Harpy whispered.

The man abruptly let Harpy stagger backward, releasing his grasp as his nose wrinkled up. “What the fuck? Are those your teeth?”

Harpy’s hand hurriedly covered his mouth as he backed away from them.

“And those weird eyes — are you an Alter?” His friends grumbled in agreement.

Harpy swept his eyes over the group and responded with a timid nod.

The leader, a young man with black and brown hair, appeared to chew at his lip. “I don’t normally do Alters.” He shot a mirthful glance back towards the others. “But for you… let’s just keep that mouth shut and I think we could have some fun.”

Let’s see if you’re still having fun when I’m ripping your dick off and feeding it to you!

Harpy’s head throbbed with the sudden surge in volume of the voice. Shaking his head, he tried to clear whatever voice was haunting him. Unfortunately, the nameless asshole cornering Harpy seemed to misunderstand.

“Don’t worry.” They closed in on Harpy again, seemingly indifferent to their darkening surroundings as they boxed him against the dumpster. “It’ll be fun!”

“Oh, I agree.” Harpy immediately stiffened at the sound of a familiar voice. He took notice of their darkening shadows. The light in the alley waned, subtly at first before magnifying into a somber midnight gloom. The group finally took notice, their attention leaving Harpy as concern took hold. Ever the opportunist, Harpy slipped away from the others as a small wave rippled across a nearby wall, leaving it awash in inky dark shadow.

Shit.

Tentacles of dark smoke and paint shot from the rippling wall, pinning the boys against the adjacent one. Their terror-filled screams risked drawing even more attention from nearby bystanders until the tentacles wrapped their way over the boys’ mouths. The form of a man, stocky and small, emerged from the tar-covered surface. He was cloaked entirely in darkness, his facial features perpetually just out of reach of daylight’s grasp. His name was Aphotic.

And Harpy and he had history.

The fear gripping Harpy’s chest redoubled, nearly knocking him off his feet. He tried to flee towards the street, but found the lapping dark waves blocking his path. Resigned, he pulled the hood of the sweatshirt over his head and ducked around the other side of the dumpster. Aphotic was a feared hero — if you could call him that — and had proven himself to be a consistent thorn in Harpy’s side. Significantly more aggressive and unconcerned with collateral damage than Miracle Maiden, he always seemed stocked with well-tailored clothing and nifty gadgets Harpy hadn’t yet been able to source.

Aphotic approached the boys, attempting a menacing gait dripping with bluster so obviously fake Harpy fought the urge to point and laugh.

“Now, boys, are you hurting this little lady?” he growled.

They shook their heads emphatically, prompting a sigh to pass his lips. The group flew up the side of the building in a dark cloud, dragged by the loose clothing and scruff of their necks before detaching from the rooftop edge several stories above, hung aloft by shadows curving in toward the alley interior.

“Well, that’s a shit lie. If you don’t tell me the truth, I guess we’ll see how much give the concrete has.”

“Aphotic!” Miracle Maiden’s deep, feminine voice echoed down the alleyway, drawing all eyes on her. Miracle Maiden’s gaze passed over me protectively before eyeing the others. She was still dressed in her workout gear, though she did have her hood drawn up loosely.

“Ah, Maiden,” Aphotic casually replied.

She stepped through the shadows, wincing only slightly as the shadowy mist broke from the pressure of her stride. “Put them down, Aphotic.”

“Fine, fine.” Aphotic twirled his finger idly, seemingly releasing the group from his grasp towards the ground. Harpy had to give her credit where credit was due; it was impressive to watch as she bounded forward into the air and caught all of his would-be aggressors without so much as breaking a sweat. She let them fall from her shoulders onto the pavement after landing back on her feet.

“Get out of here.” Her voice was cold, direct. It was the one she used for intimidation. Harpy himself had only rarely heard it. They wasted no time in scrambling back the way they’d come, though not without screaming several profanities toward Harpy and Miracle Maiden.

Miracle Maiden walked back over and lifted Harpy from his crouched position to his feet. Though he’d never admit to it, he felt grateful that her larger frame partially obscured him from Aphotic’s view.

“I had that handled, you know,” Aphotic said as shadows quickly retreated back into his body. “Trash like that doesn’t deserve to get away with warnings.”

She couldn’t help but loom over Aphotic, somehow casting him ever deeper in shadows. “That’s not our job, Aphotic. We don’t hurt people beyond reason, and we certainly don’t maim them.”

Aphotic’s tone grew sour. “Then what is the job? People like them are just going to keep hurting people like her,” he nodded toward Harpy, “if we don’t take preventative measures.”

Miracle Maiden subtly drew Harpy close. “Our job is to make sure they don’t hurt anyone else and face the legal consequences of their actions. In their case, they hadn’t actually done anything, right?”

Aphotic‘s posture indicated his growing frustration. “No. But they were about to rape her! Even you’re not too dense and blinded by your sense of morality to see that, right?”

Miracle Maiden cast a quick glance at Harpy before continuing. “Even so, no crime was committed and they won’t try this again around here. Right now, that’s the win.”

“It’s bullshit,” Aphotic grumbled. He stepped over and took a renewed interest in Harpy. “Are you okay, ma’am?”

Harpy quickly nodded, hoping to exit this exchange as quickly as possible without Aphotic making his true identity. Whereas Miracle Maiden and Harpy’s rivalry was more teasing and somewhat playful, Harpy absolutely despised Aphotic, who felt similarly towards Harpy. If he figured out who Harpy was here, in the best of circumstances there’d be considerable collateral damage as Harpy flew off. As he was, though? Harpy wasn’t entirely sure he’d live to know what happened next.

Miracle Maiden squeezed Harpy. “See? She’s fine. Is that right, Har—”

“Yes!” Harpy nervously squeaked. “I’m fine. Thank you!” He held his hand out to Aphotic. “Heather.”

Aphotic slowly shook Harpy’s hand. “You two know each other?”

“Oh, uh,” Miracle Maiden stuttered, clearly not expecting the question.

“Yep!” Harpy breathed hoarsely. “Good friends.”

“Yes!” Miracle Maiden suddenly seconded. “She’s a friend of mine.”

Aphotic looked Harpy up and down. “Well, my point still stands. Your friend was about to get jumped by a bunch of guys, Ms. World Champion. You sure you don’t want to break at least one of their bones? Teach them a lesson?” His gaze was, oddly enough, centered on Harpy instead of Miracle Maiden.

“I, uh…”

“Are you an Alter, too?” he asked.

Partial truth. That’ll get him off our back, at least.

“Yeah… happened pretty recently,” Harpy replied as truthfully as he needed to.

“Speaking of, we should really be going.” Miracle Maiden ushered Harpy toward the street as people started to gather. “Remember what I said, Aphotic.”

Shaking his head, Aphotic moved towards a growing portal of shadow on the wall next to him. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll keep it in mind.” He slipped into the shadow itself, disappearing from sight. The shadows dissipated, leaving only the brick facade behind.

Left with no choice but to let Miracle Maiden corral him back toward the apartment, Harpy grumbled beneath his breath. Once back inside (and after being flown up the stairs), Harpy was sat on the couch once more. Miracle Maiden locked the apartment door again and sat opposite him.

“Harpy…” She gave him a disappointed glare.

Harpy scowled at her. “What? You didn’t think I was going to stay —” A series of coughs interrupted his retort. She hurried over and placed a protective hand over his back.

“Stop…” he growled.

She helped Harpy regain his composure, her large eyes tracking every inch of him; for what, he wasn’t sure. 

“Harpy, I just want to help. I don’t mean to make it seem like I’m holding you captive, but something is definitely wrong. You understand that alter forms don’t just change like this, right?”

Harpy scowled at her, but nonetheless nodded his head in agreement. “Yeah.”

“Especially the whole inverse thing. Far as I understand, that’s usually reserved for people who have, like…” She raised her fingers in air quotes, cringing all the while. “Gender stuff? God, sorry if that sounds bad. I really try to listen so I can be a good ally but sometimes it's hard for me to wrap my head around and I’m worried asking questions will make me look like a butthole.”

Harpy’s features scrunched together. “Did you, a grown-ass woman, just say…” He paused, taking a moment to catch his breath. “Butthole?”

Miracle Maiden rolled her eyes. “Shut up. I get enough crap from Jester. My mom just was very particular about language, okay?”

Harpy spread his limbs out over the couch, disregarding her reasoning.

She hesitated for a moment, looking as if she wanted to ask something but was worried about doing so.

“What?” Harpy finally groaned.

“It’s just — your feet.” Miracle Maiden pointed at the ground toward Harpy. “They’re bleeding.”

“Huh.” Harpy pulled his left foot up for investigation. Droplets of blood oozed from the padding on the bottom, coming from what appeared to be a gash with a small, reflective chunk embedded within. “Must’ve stepped on glass.”

Miracle Maiden made an annoyed sound before unceremoniously picking Harpy up into her arms. “Dude, please don’t bleed on my carpet. I might be the savior of the planet like three times over, but I still have a security deposit, yeah?”

Harpy, in the midst of pushing against her in protest, sulked and crossed his arms. “Fine. Bathroom?”

As she carried him to a bathroom at the end of the hall, Harpy found his thoughts turning inward. When his wings had failed to open, there was no longer the carefully cultivated absence of fear he’d worked so diligently to maintain. In fact, he noticed with a nervous twinge, fear had been rearing its head far more today than it had in years. 

It doesn’t make sense. Swiping Liberty from the Louvre a few years back was tricky, but not scary. Fighting Maiden with the Hope Diamond in just a small leather hip pouch above the Empire State was annoying, but I wasn’t quaking in my boots. Hell, even everything with Vegas had almost gotten me killed… still might, even. But I was never scared then.

A small prick of sweat made itself known just above Harpy’s left temple as Miracle Maiden set him down on the edge of the bathtub. He'd hadn't felt fear in years. But as she began approaching the glass shard lodged in his foot with tweezers and antiseptic, Harpy was helpless to deny that he was frightened beyond belief, and had no good answers for why.