It was a calm night in the city of Townsville, the moon being easily viewed in the night sky, surrounded by fields of stars. Townsville was not a bad city far from it. In fact, it was only assaulted a lot from all forms of monster and beast. At one lair on a volcano rested an evil domain to one of the more well-known villains. In one of the rooms of the lair was a small bedroom. There, the bed had a red blanket resting on it, the walls had posters of various bands, and all sorts of junk were scattered on the floor. A young boy was sitting on the edge of the bed. He was just staring out the window, wearing a red shirt that had black stars on random parts of it, and a backwards red cap on his head, where under the cap was his long orange hair, its length reaching down to his lower back. He was scratched and bruised a good bit, and a bandage was on his cheek, all of which made him look like he came from a bad fight. He was Brick, the leader of the Rowdyruff Boys, a notorious trio of super-powered triplets that harassed the town whenever bored, but however, lately they had little luck entertaining themselves.
Brick was oblivious, for someone was peeking at him from his doorway while he was more interested in staring at the moon, lost in thoughts. Peeking through the door was another boy who was wearing a green coat that had a black skull on it. He had spiky black hair, and had forest green eyes which just stared at his sibling. He was Butch, a more normally aggressive boy of the trio. He looked more cut and bruised than his brother, like he had gotten the worse of it. The problem with being the aggressor and losing was that the enemy got just as brutal as he did. They had lost today, which was nothing new to them. They had tried to play a modified version of baseball where they used streetlights as bats and cars as balls, but yet before they could get far into it, the heroes of the town stepped in and saved the day as always.
Just thinking back on it made the raven haired Butch feel his blood boil. He wondered why Brick could tolerate it all the time. Every time the brothers fought a lot, sure, but he had hidden respect for the red ruff; the determination, the refusal to give up, but knowing when to back down. He was the self-proclaimed leader for a reason. And he kind of respected his brother for it. Butch had something behind his back. It was a small box that had not much on it beyond a small orange and yellow striped pattern to it.
"What's that?" Butch suddenly heard, jumping up from the startle and quickly turning around, slapping his hand over the mouth of a similarly aged boy away from the door. Butch saw the boy face to face. He had messy blonde hair and dark blue eyes, and he was wearing a blue vest that had black thunderbolts on random patterns and angles on it. The blonde was his other brother, Boomer, the not-so-smart one of the group. He was bullied a bit by his brothers for his intelligence, but he wasn't that bad. Usually he treated their injuries. He looked the least injured of the group, but his hands sure showed signs that he had done his best in the fight. Butch took his hand away once he stayed quiet.
"It's a… a present…" Butch reluctantly admitted.
"Oh, cool. Are you going to open it?" Boomer asked quietly, aware of the signal that he didn't want their leader to hear. His brother seemed hesitant while tapping his fingers on the box. He took in a deep breath like he was paranoid of whatever was inside would compromise his tough guy appearance, though his age already did that enough.
"It's not for me… I made- bought! I bought this for brick," Butch corrected himself, and like expected, his blonde sibling's look was a surprised one. They walked a little further down the hall so their brother wouldn't hear. Boomer had a smug smile on his face, recalling all of the fighting the brothers had done today against their enemies and with one another.
"And you said we weigh you down," Boomer hummed mockingly at one of the many insults that had been thrown around from hours ago. Butch looked slightly guilty. Clearly he was not in the mood to put on his usual act. He looked back at the door, the hall being poorly lit. He tapped his brother's chest.
"If you even try anything…" Butch tried to start warning his brother.
"I think it's a great thing. I hate you two fighting so much. I really get tired hearing it that it practically hurts my ears. Maybe this'll make you two like each other for a little," Boomer interrupted, aware the fighting was more or less ruining their cooperation and coordination in fights, so they were at a major disadvantage no matter what they did. Butch smiled, thankful for his remark, though he was still nervous, so obvious that even his thick skulled brother could tell.
"Go on. It'll be fine," Boomer reassured before he wandered off to get to his own activities. Butch walked to Brick's room. He tapped lightly on the door, ready to present the gift, going off the hope that it will go well. If it didn't make them forgive each other, they would at least feel neutral with one another, or that was what he wanted to believe.