Cheap fuckin’ piece of…Sky threw his head back with a sigh, lock clicking a third time before it finally caught properly against the door, the deadbolt proving just the same level of quality as everything else SDN had to offer him. Four dollar fuckin’ deadbolt.
His shoulder pressed against the door once it shut, Sky letting himself lean up on it a second longer than he needed to. The quiet of his apartment settled in around him before he let his legs move any further.
Food went down on the table first, all his stolen jerky resting up against the juice and the noodles in a neat little row on the same particleboard that came with the place. It was the Swedish kind with the weird name that came along with everything Blazer’s people had delivered to his door.
Real generous, though.
He couldn’t deny that much.
They may have called it a Re-Integration Package but, from the wording in the manual, it definitely didn’t seem like it was a common handout to every single member of the Phoenix Program.
A sigh slid out of him, shoulder itching more and more the longer he stood there. The wound could wait though, at least one more minute. …could it, though? Even still, old habits ran deeper than simple hunger and Sky knew he had to deal with the injury before it started dealing with him — no matter how small it was.
That lesson had been drilled into him by the Brawler those first few months and he didn’t have a reason to doubt it now. So, with that in mind, Sky dragged his feet down the hall until his hand slid up to the light switch the second bare sole left carpet and met tile.
The bathroom light buzzed on as he leaned over the sink, hoodie already peeling off his shoulders and gi top pulled down. He looked down with a wince, the action more from fabric sticking to dried blood than any actual pain there at all. The stab had barely registered when it happened and it was even less of an issue now, the itching from before still going as the wound knitted itself shut bit by bit.
Slower than it should have, sure, but that was a given.
Despite that, it was still closing up faster than it had any right to on a normal body.
Water ran down from the tap, hot as it could get in those first few seconds.
Splashes of pink fell in the sink as he began cleaning up the wound with his bare hands, a trickle of re-hydrated blood circling the drain slow and lazy. It wasn’t the first time he’d patched himself up in a sink and it was familiar in every way — different sink, different city, same exact spiral going down the same exact hole.
Should probably call this in.
It only took a second of flipping the thought over in his head — and another to be certain — as he stared at his own reflection in the mirror. Half his face still sitting in shadow, the thought of what he’d actually have to deal with; Robert’s typing, another incident report, and having to deal with the blonde again…
Yeah, we not doing that.
Besides, whoever was even sitting at a desk in the Torrance branch at nine in the evening probably had better things to do than to take a call from him.
Yeah, nah.
He could go without filling out paperwork for a scratch.
– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –
The microwave hummed loud, black plastic bowl turning over and over on the glass while the machine counted down on his noodles. Five minutes passed by quick enough and Sky dropped onto the couch that still smelled just like the showroom even a whole month later. Remote in his hands, Sky clicked the TV on just seconds after the microwave finished its last beep.
“—orts of an attempted robbery…”
Local news was already running, some anchor with hair that hadn’t known movement since the beginning of his career talking over B-roll of a familiar looking gas station parking lot.
Wait… Sky leaned in, blinking. That’s not even the right store.
Stock footage of some other gas station convenience store stood out on the screen while the anchor kept talking. "—dentified man reportedly intervened, subduing the suspect before fleeing the scene prior to police arriv—"
Unidentified.
Sky snorted out his nose, plastic fork stabbing down into the bowl before the noodles even started to cool. Unidentified man, huh?
No name, no SDN, and no mention of the blue lanyard the convenience store clerk had stared at like it was another gun. Hm… Part of him had to wonder if it was because of the fact SDN paid the media off for good PR or if the guy just didn’t mention that bit… Guess we’ll never know.
Still, though…‘I told you people, I'm not paying a subscription.’That same angry face flashed in front of his eyes, the flip of fear curdling into something mean and ugly the second the badge caught the light. All of a sudden, Sky was the big bad threat the whole time and the guy with a broken nose was just a nobody.
Another pull off the apple juice was enough to soothe his other scratch — the one in his throat at least — the swallow going down as the memory faded. Whatever, man. A hand found its way into his pants pocket, fingers around the switchblade he’d lifted off the mugger on the way out of the store. Pulling it free, he turned it over once under the dim blue light of the TV; eyes on the bad handle while he felt up the worse balance — all the weight sitting wrong toward the tip.
Sky tossed it up.
One flip was caught clean, one more spin over his knuckles — muscle memory still doing its thing even on garbage steel. Rolling his eyes, Sky tossed it down onto the coffee table with a clatter that felt appropriately disrespectful. Dollar-store serial killer shit.
About half a bag of crumpled up beef had already been sprinkled into the yakisoba by the second bite, a concoction that tasted far better than it sounded on the end of his fork. The taste of Teriyaki beef on top of Teriyaki chicken flavored noodles — sodium on sodium — would probably give some nutritionist in LA a heart attack but they didn’t have his taste buds so… mmm, fuck ‘em.A laugh came out of him around a mouthful of Teriyaki2. Free knife. Free jerky. Real productive night, Sky. He bit back a snort, the risk of choking too real even with superpowers. Top-tier hero work out there.
– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –
Unfortunately, ‘top-tier hero work’ did not lead to top-tier sleep, blue eyes open as he lay flat on the floor of the living room.
He’d been to his bed and back, the sheets messed up from hours of rolling around underneath and atop the sheets. As much as he wanted to blame the mattress — the softness swallowing him up with so much comfort it felt like getting buried — Sky had learned real quick into his stay in this place that sometimes the floor just did a better job of holding him up.
It was solid, at least.
Beige carpet scraped against his bare back instead, rough enough to catch at the waxy ridges of scar tissue running along his shoulder blades, and somehow that felt better.
Torrance at three in the morning felt like a graveyard. It made sense, though, with less than a hundred or so heroes running around the place. Only that many heroes meant there couldn’t be more than three or four hundred villains, so barely any trouble to deal with.
Nothing; no sirens, no distant thud of an energy blast to rattle the windows, not even any chatter bleeding through on a hero band he didn’t have anymore.
Just the hum of a refrigerator working overtime to keep a carton of chocolate milk cold enough to still be good in the morning and somebody else’s TV running on the other side of the shared wall.“-aking a collage for Rupert. We've been firing on all cylinders lately and I just wanted to let him know I c-”
He couldn’t complain about that, though, considering his was still on too; pale blue light thrown across the living room while some cartoon called Family Guy kept going.
“-oesn't think so. Right, Annabelle?”
Whether the baby was supposed to be gay or just weirdly British, he genuinely couldn't tell even five episodes in this time of night. Some small stupid part of him found that confusion — and the show — funnier than it had any right to be. It’s no Archer or The Boondocks, but…
He wasn’t even looking at the TV, his back to the carpet and both his eyes aimed firmly skyward. The popcorn ceiling stared back at him as he counted the little bumps in place of sheep — Six hundred twelve — only losing his place everytime the laughter got too much to keep down.
He’d lost count the first time somewhere around two hundred and just started all over from one; same ceiling, same bumps, same routine.
“Oh no! They's doing gay jokes without me!”
A soft laugh escaped into the empty room, another joke referencing something he didn’t have full context for but still… still funny someh— Bzzzt-krk-bzzt!He was on his feet the instant he heard the sound, movement faster than thought as Sky crouched low with weight on his back foot. Pure reflex had his center of gravity low and hard to hit, instinct guiding him as his palms flared…
As his palms tried to flare, a thin flicker of pale blue aura across his knuckles before it guttered back into whatever tank he had left.He didn’t even think about it, no time or effort spent on that when his attention was on something more important. A portal?The sound wasn’t quite the same but it was familiar enough that his bare feet carried him over across the carpet. Sky pressed an ear flat against drywall, paint chilling one scarred cheek as the noise of buzzing static resolved into actual words as his pulse hammered loud in his ears.
"...and if you call right now, we'll double the offer! That's two Slap Chops for the pri—"
Both eyes slid shut as Sky’s forehead came to rest against the drywall in place of his ear, hands hanging loose at his side. An infomercial.
Just an infomercial; some guy on the other side trying to fall asleep to the noise of ads for kitchen gadgets. No portal, no war, nothing at all — just someone else’s insomnia bleeding through the thin walls.He turned around, back sliding down the wall until Sky found the floor again; knees coming up tight against his chest. …wanted it to be real.
The thought was as true as it could be, sitting in his own head with nothing else to help him laugh it off or push it down into something manageable. As much as he hated the idea, he’d wanted the wall to blow open and a Rikti or a Shivan or something with teeth to rear right at him so he could fight.
Anything other than sitting on a strange floor watching strange television in a strange city that didn’t need him.“Go to sleep, man.” His head fell back against the wall, the thump loud against his skull. “Just go to sleep.”
He didn't.
Instead, he just sat there, back to the wall and knees to his chest until gray light crept its way past behind the blinds; infomercial finally giving way to the morning news.