"You may enter," deadpanned Oni Lee.
The words were superfluous; the Asian woman – whose modesty was covered only by a thin white bed sheet – who stumbled out of the door before him said enough to Grue. But he nodded still at Oni Lee, before stepping through the door himself.
He looked around the room, only briefly taking in the brightly colored tapestries and other Oriental works of art before he found what he was looking for – his mysterious employer, basking in front of the fireplace with cool disregard.
Even out of costume, and in an intimate and possibly vulnerable setting, he still radiated immeasurable power, from head to toe, like a roaring dragon posed for slaughter.
A lesser man might have cowed, took a step back. Grue's arms folded over his chest and stood his ground.
Rings of smoke hovered in the air. "Cigar?"
"I don't smoke."
Lung acknowledged his comment with more smoke. "We have a lot in common, Grue." Lung emphasized the name with a low, guttural growl.
"Is that so?"
He turned around, finally facing him. The shadows hanging from above covered his face, but the tattoos were not so easily hidden.
"Look down."
He did. He saw what passed for his costume, under a swirling cloak of darkness that covered nearly every inch of him.
"You understand it; so do I." When Grue didn't speak, Lung continued after taking another puff. "We're both professionals. And we both take care of our own."
The way he said the last line made Grue's body tense.
Lung chuckled. "Let's get down to business then. Tell me Grue...have you ever been to New York?"
Grue felt a tap on his chest. He looked down and saw Bakuda – the cape Lung recruited – looking up at him. She looks a lot smaller up close, thought Grue.
"You're the darkness guy, right?"
Grue nodded.
"Thanks a lot, jerk! I couldn't see shit through that cloud; so imagine my surprise when some asshole grabs me by the collar and drags me along to who knows where!"
"If we stayed any longer, the local heroes would have shown up."
"So, what, you want a medal? A nice big cookie?"
"I was just doing my job," said Grue, keeping his tone even.
Bakuda threw her hands in the air and stalked off, yelling, "My fucking hero!" as she did so.
Grue quietly watched Bakuda stomp away in irritation, but made no move to stop her.
"Checkmate."
Brian leaned forward, looking down at the board and at the undeniable strait he had gotten himself into. He had moved at her pace, fell into her trap, and lost because of it.
He had always considered himself average at the game, at least. But after the past few games, once he saw the gap between their skill levels, he started to wonder what 'average' even meant.
He looked up to find a satisfied smirk on her face. "Always thinking four moves ahead," she quipped as she started to re-arrange the pieces.
"You don't say," said Brian with a shake of his head. He took another look at the board. Instead of the usual two full rows of pieces he had expected to see, they were all scattered across the board, in the same positions they were a few turns ago.
Just before he sprung her trap.
"What's all this?" When she echoed his thoughts, he asked, "Why?"
Ren gave him a frown. "Lee's some kind of fucking robot. There isn't any thought in that brain of his. He just moves pieces forward with no rhyme or reason. And Lung never wants to play chess. It's always Go or Shogi or Mahjong." There was an underlying bitterness in her voice when she mentioned those three games which led him to believe that her winning streak did not seem to apply past chess. "You're the only guy around here that has any skill."
"Hard to believe."
"'Course it is. You were up against the best. And now the best is offering some lessons, if only to sate her boredom between jobs."
Brian gave the matter some thought, before shrugging his shoulders. Couldn't be any worse than learning from the old man. "Alright."
At that moment, Brian could have sworn he saw a hint of a genuine smile pass across her face. "Good. Now, where you screwed up was here–" her hand gripped one of the pieces "–with the horsie."
"The horsie?"
Ren shot him the meanest glare he's gotten from her ever since the debacle at Cornell. This time, however, her cheeks were slightly tinted red. "Do you want to learn or not?"
Brian's palms shot up in a conciliatory gesture. "Continue," he said, unable to suppress his good-natured smile.
Ren's stare lingered, before she returned her attention back to the board. "Right. So, you moved the hors- erm, knight, here at C6, when you should have moved it to E6. Afterward, I would have–"
He set down the two large brown bags down at the table in the common room and started pulling out their contents.
Instant yakisoba noodles, a box of fresh cigars, Oreos...
Brian's hands lingered on the large white and green bag.
He had a general idea of who requested what when he was given the grocery list; usually, his guesses were on point. But he could not fathom who would want a large bag of cat food. None of the ABB capes struck him as a cat person.
He shook his head, striking the image of Lung being surrounded by a group of prowling cats, before hoisting the bag over his shoulder and started walking. He'd just ask Ren about it – she's usually the only one here around this hour.
"Hey Ren," Brian said as the door to her workshop swung open, "You know who wanted this–" He stopped mid-sentence, watching as Ren was idly scratching a black and white cat behind the ears while it sat in her lap.
"–cat food," finished Brian.
Ren's attention was sharply placed on him. They both stared at each other; Brian with a neutral face while Ren had a fixed expression of horror.
"What's his name?" he said, hoping to defuse the awkward situation.
There was a pregnant pause, before Ren answered softly, "Riley. Her name is Riley."
"Riley," Brian repeated. "Is she a stray?"
Ren nodded.
"Can I pet her?"
She shrugged nonchalantly. "It's a free country. Do what you like."
Her nonchalance disappeared however as soon as Brian stepped closer. He had barely touched Riley before he was interrupted. "Not like that, you big lummox! You have to do it right, like this." Her own hand – almost tiny compared to his – arrested his own, guiding it towards the back of Riley's upstart head. Together, her hand on top of his, they brushed against Riley's fur, from her head, all the way down her back.
There were no complaints on either end.
"If you say anything..." Ren started.
"I won't," replied Brian. "It'll be our little secret."
Focused on the task at hand, Brian didn't notice Ren's lingering stare.
"Checkmate."
Ren stared at the board intensely. "No fucking way," she finally said. She did a double take. "No fucking way. What was that?"
"Consider it a surprise," he said with a shrug. He didn't show it, but he was just as surprised as she was.
"Alright, let's go again. Beginner's luck."
Brian shook his head. "I don't think so. I think I might go take a nap. Go for a walk. Savor the moment."
"Oh hell no. Fuck you. You get right back in that chair. Hey, don't walk out on me! Come back here! I want my revenge!"
The door closed without an answer or retort.
Brian felt a cool hand pressed against his forehead.
"What are you doing, Aisha?"
"Just checking your temperature."
"I'm not sick."
"Yeah, right. You totally have the yellow fever."
He took a taste from a wooden spoon. "I told you, I'm not–" Brian paused as something clicked in his head. He added a dash of ginger and stirred.
"Ha, I was totally right! You're not even denying it!"
"It's not like that, Aisha."
"Are we seeing the same things here? Some Asian girl is on the couch. You're cooking dinner. You're even wearing that stupid pink frilly apron!" When he didn't say anything, a satisfied grin grew. "I knew it. Gold is silent after all, bro."
"Silence is golden."
"What?"
"The correct phrase is 'silence is golden'."
"You mean it's not...? Oh, you have got to be kidding me! I've been using that phrase all day and you're telling me I've been saying it wrong the whole time?" Aisha groaned. "Whatever. Just make sure to put a sock on the doorknob or something, alright?"
Brian turned around to smack her upside the head, but Aisha was already out of the kitchen area, laughing along the way.
"My sister didn't bother you, did she?"
"Only to drop off these," Ren said, thumbing towards the large stack of magazines on the table.
Brian only had to look at the top one before groaning. "Sorry about that."
"I've seen worse." Ren slurped her soup. "So what the hell happened, anyway? Last I can remember, we were outnumbered by those Empire assholes."
"You were focusing on scattering the capes. Divide and conquer. Then Cricket hit you pretty hard."
"That would explain the ringing," Ren said dryly.
"You were lucky though. You fell right about the same time Stormtiger was about to hit you. So instead of getting your entire face–" Brian pointed to the bandage wrapped around her head "–he only nicked your forehead."
"And then?"
"I used my darkness to cover our retreat."
A silence fell between the two. Ren lowered her gaze, looking at the blanket draped over her lower body, and the clothing that didn't belong to her. "Why?" she asked quietly.
"My place was closer. You didn't look too hurt, but I couldn't take any chances."
"Not what I meant, you idiot. I'm asking why you didn't just leave me there and guaranteeing your escape. By dragging me along, you risked getting us both captured. And for what?"
They both made eye contact. Neither said anything for a while, letting silence once again fill the space between them. Finally, Brian patted the side of Ren's leg (and making her jump in the process), before he got up from the couch.
"I take care of my own."
As he walked back towards the kitchen, he heard Ren mutter, "My fucking hero," and smiled.
Brian looked around. Paper, tools and other spare parts were strewn around the workshop, cluttering the room in various, mismatched piles. The bag of cat food was just where he had left it, with the top half bent over.
He wondered how a tornado ran through the workshop without anyone noticing.
"I got your text. What's so urgent that you needed me here?"
Ren crossed her arms. "You can see through your own darkness, right?" When Brian nodded, she continued, "Thought so. I want you to flood this room with it. Don't give me that look. I know what I'm doing."
Wordlessly, the workshop was flooded in darkness. It wasn't long before something happened – that something being whatever Ren had cooked up. There was a twinkle above him. Brian looked up, and saw a bright yellow circle take its place. Twinkles soon dotted the majority the area, until his darkness was lit up like the night sky.
"Stars?" he asked, impressed.
"More like spotlights," Ren said in a smug tone.
"What is this for?"
"I studied your power. Took a lot of testing and being stuck in the dark, but I was able to finally figure out a way to get light inside that wouldn't just get immediately swallowed up."
"It lets you see through it."
"Basically. But it's mostly just a distraction."
Brian's eyebrows furrowed. "A distraction?"
"For this." He then felt a kiss on his lips.
When his darkness receded, Ren was looking up at him, face flushed. And he knew the culprit could be no one else. "Always thinking four moves ahead, remember?" she said in response to his question – and his expression.
When Brian didn't say anything about the moment, Ren lowered her head. Muttering something under her breath and pushed past Brian and towards the door.
"Renee."
She swiveled around, marching back to him, finger raised. "I told you not to call me by that name–" She was interrupted mid-rant with a kiss, as soft and fleeting as the one that was given to him.
Ren's indignation was replaced with wide-eyed surprise. Her expression formed the words she couldn't say. What was that?
He didn't show it, but he was just as surprised as she was.
And he liked it.
"Consider it a surprise."
A/N: Wrote this a while back on SV, decided to bring it over here. And yes, this happened. Don't ask how. I'm a madman.
