A/N: For WA Locked Room Challenge. Standard disclaimer applies for both franchises.
Come as Strangers, Stay as Adversaries
It all started as a typical day in the practical joker's life: annoying his friend the senorita, annoying his friend the bookworm, annoying everyone else who wasn't his friend. Things got progressively less typical as he woke up later in the day to find himself in an enclosed space with two other persons. One was a visitor from another world. Or, to be more precise, a dark menace from another alternate reality who had been stuck in the practical joker's world and presently had no means to return home.
The practical joker's friend sneezed. "Aghhh! Look at all the dust." Suiting action to her words, she used her finger to scrape off a layer of dust and made a face at it.
"Looks like no one bothers to clean this pigsty in forever." The practical joker looked around. Then he smiled and pointed to a far end from where they were. "There's a door. Let's get out of here." Without waiting for the rest of his companions, he skipped ahead to the door and pulled the handle. However, the door remained obstinately closed.
"Give me some help here, people," he shouted back at his left-behind companions.
The young lady ignored his request. "Wait! What is that thing?" She pointed up.
Sighing, he ran back to where she was. The strange contraption was strapped on the topmost shelve, with part of it on the floor. The practical joker stood on tip-toe but wasn't able to reach it. His eyes widened.
"It's a bomb! And we have only until its fuse runs out." He craned his neck up. "We'd better say our prayers."
"Oh, thank you, Senor Stating-the-obvious. How about figuring out a way (or more than one way) to stop it from, I don't know, running out?"
The practical joker glared at his friend. "I was just answering your question. That's no call to insult me."
She stuck out her tongue at him. "I'll insult you if I want to. You are as useful as a lawn ornament. Worse, since lawn ornaments are at least pretty on the eyes."
"You obviously have never heard of gnomes."
"Quiet!"
The two friends snapped their mouths shut and turned fearful eyes toward the other occupant of the enclosed space they were locked in.
"Now you. I want your handkerchief." The dark menace held out his gloved hand.
"All right," the practical joker said with an exaggerated sigh. He fished out the requested item. "Can I have it back afterward? Preferably washed and pressed?"
In answer, the masked man stretched the handkerchief, shredding it to pieces.
The young lady covered both ears with her hands. And she wasn't too soon, for the practical joker let out an unearthly wail at the loss of his handkerchief.
Ignoring him, the masked man turned toward the young lady. "Give me your scarf."
She sniffed. "I'm not handing it to you if it's going to suffer the same fate as his handkerchief."
"Give. Me. Your. Scarf."
Shaking, she unwrapped her scarf and gave it to the masked man, who, after giving it an experimental stretch, bunched the scarf up into a ball and taped it shut. He threw it to the lamp attached to the fuse, spilling the oil onto the floor.
"Now you've gone and done it!" the practical joker fumed. "Our ticking clock has just got quartered."
"Wait!" The young lady carefully approached the spilled liquid. "I think it's water."
The practical joker rolled his eyes, but he walked closer. "So it is." He turned toward the masked man, who didn't move. "How did you know it wasn't oil?"
"Lack of an odor," was a rasped reply.
"That is some sense of smell you have. With so many things in this attic, I would never be able to tell."
The young lady gave him an impudent grin. "Obviously. You couldn't distinguish real bombs from fake ones, after all."
"You couldn't either," her friend shot back.
Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick-tock.
The practical joker nervously looked around. "What's that?"
The ground shook from under their feet. The young lady swayed but the masked man caught her by the elbow. Then a white flash brightened the gloomy attic, blocking out everything from view.
The practical joker found himself at his house with his friend the senorita. They were sitting down on opposite ends of his couch and the late afternoon sun was shining through the windows. Nothing appeared out of place. It almost seemed like he had been dreaming about the attic, about a masked man from another world...
"What's the point of him being here?"
...or not. The practical joker blinked, because it was a reflex to needle his friend. "Who?"
His companion heaved a long suffering sigh. "That masked man. He claimed to come from another world, yet he had no interest in moving from his own perch of shadows the entire time he was here."
"Well, there was that time in the attic..."
"We were moved by some incomprehensible power, so he wasn't there by his own volition."
"True enough." Something was a bit strange with their current situation, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.
"What do you think about him not wanting to move anywhere otherwise?"
"Eh...not everyone is thrilled or curious or happy to have a chance to get stuck in another world?" he offered.
"Definitely true. Senor Dark and Moody just wanted to return home. I hope he visits a doctor once he gets there."
"Doctor? What for?"
She looked at him as if he was the most stupid person around. "For his throat, of course. Poor man must have lost his voice when he crossed worlds. He barely spoke and when he did, it sounded like something got stuck in his throat."
"You really shouldn't be criticizing other people's voices, you know."
"So? I might not be able to say some word correctly." The practical joker scoffed at this and only stopped when he earned her displeasure glare. "Does that automatically disqualify my opinions on other people's voices?"
"Of course not. However, I'm sure that masked man's voice is fine. The growl is just for intimidation and to disguise his identity. Although I'm a bit at a loss why he thought he needed to do that with us since we weren't his enemies and, living in a different world, probably wouldn't know who he is even if we saw his face."
"For the same reason our masked man hides his face, I suppose. To protect us. All these masked heroes seem to be cut from the same self-sacrificing cloth."
"And that annoys you. Why?"
"They both have hazel eyes, you know." She sounded anything but displeased.
He rolled his eyes, which were definitely not hazel, therefore could not be eyes of heroes, according to his companion.
"How could you even tell that? And if you were obsessively watching their faces, I would feel my skin creep on their behalf."
"I'm not obsessed!" Then she apparently composed herself and gave him a look bordering on superiority, as if she knew something he didn't. "When the eyes are the only part of the face uncovered, one tends to focus on them."
"I didn't know mouths and chins are not considered part of a face anymore."
In answer, she slugged him lightly across the face.
"What's that for?" he complained, rubbing his slightly injured mouth and chin.
"A taste of vulnerability? That ties into my next grievance. Why that part of the face is exposed? It should be protected like the rest of the body."
"I doubt his black clothing would protect our masked man from bullet wounds," said the practical joker in a deceptively mild voice.
"All right, I phrased that badly. I just think if you injured either of them on the exposed part of the face, his identity would be compromised."
"That's a sad thing to consider. Secret identities given away by the wound inflicted on them while they are costumed."
"Exactly. And then there is their penchant for the theatrical."
"That is not even similar! One is perpetually smiling and one is perpetually frowning."
"As I said, theatrical." She shrugged as if that explained everything, and he didn't think it did, not even for one second.
"Either of those is an unnatural facial expression to maintain perpetually."
She tilted her head. "You just proved my point further with that admission."
The practical joker laughed. "You caught me out. No one would feel like smiling or scowling all the time, so that is a fake, theatrical move put on further to hide his identity. Not that I don't think our masked bandit actually enjoys taunting his enemies with that smile of his."
"And that poor man, he was really angry in that costume of his. It must have been very uncomfortable to wear."
"Perhaps. Either way, he needs to lighten up."
"Senor! How terrible!" She sounded as if he'd threatened to injure her beloved. Oh, there might be no 'as if' about it: that man was probably her beloved.
"Oh, he can scowl if he wants. I mean his costume should be lighter, less heavy."
"That will make him more susceptible to damages. I bet that costume of his probably could stop bullets."
"Well, our masked man manages fine on a light clothing. If he ever got shot, I never heard of it."
"You don't know what transpires in that world. America seems wilder than our corner of the world."
"He's American?"
She put a finger on her chin. "Part of him is."
He shrugged. "Well you should know, considering who you are."
"Who my... Aghhh...!" She threw up her hand. "Do we really want to go there?"
"I sort of went there already with your voice."
"Not my voice, exactly. Just my pronunciation."
He shrugged again. "Same difference."
She put her hands on her hips, looking mulish. "No, Senor Know-it-all. One is a physical trait. The other is a trained trait."
"You're not helping your case with that distinction, you know."
She hit her forehead. "Aghhh!"
"Exactly. But I'll be nice and help you out of this mess of your doing."
She gave him a look that seemed to say, 'I'll believe you when I see an evidence of your niceness.'
He ignored her surly mood. "You said that brooding masked man of yours is part-American. What's his other part, then?"
She smiled. "Ah, he's part robot, perhaps?" At his raised eyebrow, she added, "Look at him, he might scowl ferociously, but it's all he seemed to know how to do. Pre-programmed, you know?"
"Maybe he's a vampire? With his penchant for blending in with the night?" Two could play at this game.
"No fangs. Well, there are, but not the vampire-ish kind."
"How would you know what kind of fangs vampires have?" Somehow, he was unreasonably miffed at her obsession with the masked man's teeth (conveniently ignoring his own obsession with their own masked man's perfect white teeth: the dental work for those must be atrociously expensive. Jealous, he was not). But, not wanting her to notice his dark mood, he gave her a grin he knew she would find annoying. "Maybe you already got bitten and was just saying that to get me off track. Or the bite did something to your memory."
"I'm surprised you aren't afraid to be alone with me if you clearly believe that."
He shook his head. "Someone has to be the adult in this situation. Clearly we can't rely on you to be that person."
She shook her head, exactly mimicking his action. "I'm not the one resorting to not calling non-insulting names when things don't go my way."
"Oooh, literal. So I'm childish."
"You said it, not I."
"So I did." He gave a serious look. "Now that I've admitted defeat, can you actually reward me and tell me what other part forms that complicated masked man?"
"Complicated, is he? Sorry to disappoint you, but masked vigilantes are not complicated. They just want justice and peace at no or low cost to the majority of the population."
"You sound like you speak from experience."
"Perhaps I do."
The practical joker decided not to pursue that line of conversation. Imagining his friend as a masked vigilante in a revealing outfit and getting herself maimed or killed wasn't exactly a comforting thought.
"You never did answer my question."
She was quiet for so long he thought she might not answer. But then she smiled.
"I don't know if it's physically in his blood, but I do detect some British influence in his upbringing."
He nodded. That made sense. "With his sophisticated weapons, that man is definitely wealthy. A scion of some old name. The family probably assigns him a personal servant, much like the bookworm or I have."
She raised her brow at the 'bookworm' but didn't comment on it. "Oh, definitely wealthy. Like you or your friend, he doesn't have the scent of people who toil for a living." She frowned. "But he doesn't have a gun. Well, not any that can end someone's life."
"You got him to show you his toys?" He demanded, incredulous. "Him? Whose favorite past time seemed to be beating up criminals with his bare hand?"
"Well, I am not a threat. And I sort of implied that I wanted to learn to protect myself."
"Did he teach you?" He was curious, despite himself.
She sighed. "Of course not. His world might be more sophisticated than ours, but, like our masked man, he still thinks of women as something that would easily break."
"Well, I don't. You're way too durable to break."
She stuck out her tongue at him. "I'm not. And if that's how you normally compliment a senorita, no wonder you are still unattached."
He rubbed his neck. "I'm not. But let's go back to him. I did wonder how he arrived here. Did he follow a portal to our world? Or did something from our world kidnap him?"
"There was no ransom," she said impudently.
He made a show of putting up his hands in defeat. "All right, Senorita Literal. You know what I mean, anyway."
"I'm surprised you didn't ask him."
"Would you willingly make conversations with someone who always glowers at you?"
"We've been over this. I believe he's a different person out of the mask."
"He's probably more gloomy without the mask to hide underneath."
"Wrong answer. Our masked man's alter ego is probably no happier than the mask he wears."
"But our masked man is...ah... special."
She narrowed her eyes. "I don't think I like that insinuation."
"You aren't supposed to like it."
"Fine." She threw up her hands. "I'm leaving."
"Don't let the door-" He got up. "What do you think you're doing?"
She attacked the front door a bit more. Until she apparently realized that it was not giving up and allowing her to leave.
"I'm locked in the house with you," she said, looking pointedly at him. "I can think of a few worse prospects."
"Look on the bright side. You admit that I'm still not your worst prospect."
"Only barely. So don't be getting that bloated head. Actually, put it to good use and find me a way to leave."
The practical joker crossed his arms. "Not complimenting me will get you nowhere. I'm not the one inconvenienced here, you know."
That only got him a rolling eyes in response. She grabbed a window's sill but was unable to go through the window.
"Something strands me here. Actually, I think it must be someone." Her eyes took on a feverish light. "Call your friend back."
"The bookworm?" he asked, even though he began to have an inkling of what caused his uneasiness with the current situation.
"No. The one whose body I'm presently occupying. She is lost in my world."
"Well, did you at least get a tour of what that world looked like for your trouble?"
The practical joker was still dazed. He called his friend in his mind and a bright light appeared, depositing the masked man into the room they were all in. "His friend" touched "the masked man" on the elbow, apparently causing the two to switch bodies again and the masked man was gone in a flash of the same bright light, presumably back in his world.
"Thank you for worrying about me," she said, rolling her eyes.
"I was worried." He put his hand over his heart to emphasize the truthfulness of his words.
"Then what took you so long?"
"Would you believe it's him? He didn't tell me, so I had no way to know that I wasn't talking to you."
"You, the practical joker, admit to being gullible? I never believed I'd live to see the day."
He pursed his mouth. "He was just that good." But he recalled their conversation. It had been ...very diverting. He smiled. "But then, I never believed anyone could be traveling between worlds, either."
"Touche."
"Well, did you see any interesting sights or do anything interesting while you were lost in his world?"
"I wasn't lost!"
The practical joker shrugged. "Lost was his word. But never mind that."
"I suppose I did see a wondrous sight of his city down below. But being on a built structure so tall did funny things to my balance."
"So his world has high buildings. Did you get sick from being on one?" he asked in all seriousness.
"I almost did, actually. Only my effort to maintain his image calmed down my inside."
"How did it feel, being literally in a hero's skin?" He recalled a comment on the rough, guttural voice, made by the man himself no less, and wondered if she remembered to use it if she had to.
"Frankly, Senor, I didn't really feel any difference. It is true that he is incredibly amazing in his many skills, but deep down, he is only a person who is only trying to do the right thing, just like many of us."
"Oh, good that you aren't obsessed with him. He himself made you sound obsessed."
Now a blush stole over her face. "He did have a basis for that. I might be admiring him a bit more than he's comfortable with." Then she turned serious. "It can't be helped. I admire everyone who has the courage to stand up against injustice."
"Really, Senorita. For all we know, he could be a criminal with that kind of clothing."
"So could our masked man," she countered swiftly.
He was so focus on winning their argument that for a moment it didn't even register that she blithely offered their masked bandit up as a possible example of a criminal.
"We at least get to witness how our masked man conducts himself. We don't know how that man conducts himself." At her glare, he added, "in his world."
"If the news in his city were accurate, he is doing more good than harm. The authorities even depend on him to fight crime and they mostly turn blind eyes to the fact that he is a vigilante."
"The opposite from what happens here in almost every way. Why don't we use that word for our masked outlaw?"
"'Vigilante'? I don't know. The word seems to connote revenge more than 'doing good for the welfare of our community outside of the law', I suppose."
"All right. I bow to your wisdom. And don't glare because I mean that sincerely." He put up his hands.
"I'll believe that when I see it." Disgust dripped from her voice.
The practical joker burst out laughing.
His friend didn't disappoint. She predictably pouted.
"What's so funny?"
"He said something similar when he was you, and had on a nearly identical expression."
She blushed again. "I didn't realize that he observed me that closely."
"Neither did I. I thought he didn't care about us, about our world, and just wanted to be gone."
"He is a fine mimic."
Casting a glance toward a darkening on the horizon, the practical joker stretched his arm. "Ah, I'm so tired. Let's see you home so I can go back to my beauty sleep."
"I can walk by myself."
"I know you can, but allow me to be a gentleman for once."
"Then I accept your escort. Just refrain from speaking, if you please. After all that's happening, I'm not in the shape to handle your wicked teasing further."
So they set out together toward the senorita's house. As for whether the practical joker could refrain from speaking while making that walk, that was another story.
The End
A/N: So this is a very self-indulgent story with no explanation given for events that occur. I just wanted to do something really lighthearted (and hopefully parody-like) but I doubt I succeeded. Oh, well. And if you saw a lot more errors than usual, I'm sorry. I was pressed for time for the challenge (yes, I know I should allocate more time for it). Despite reading this over many times now, I'm sure some mistakes are still present, so please don't hesitate to point them out if you see them.
At any rate, thank you for giving my story a chance. :)