Barnaby Brooks Jr.'s eyes opened slowly. He groaned, striking the bedside alarm clock with one of his pillows. It was morning already. He rolled onto his stomach, exhaling into the sheets sleepily. A few minutes later a second alarm sounded and with a great, moody huff he pushed himself out of bed.
He shuffled into the restroom, the tile cold beneath his bare feet. He looked at his reflection, pulling his long, blonde hair back. He examined his face, turning his head from side to side. In a few hours he would be standing in front of a crowd of over one hundred people. Reporters from every media outlet would start hitting him with a barrage of questions.
He dropped his arms and stepped into the shower. He turned the hot faucet all the way to the left, ignoring the cold water completely. He stood beneath the steaming water, letting it burn down his back. He closed his eyes, his body was sore from the night before.
A group of NEXT had taken hostages at the mall. They made a bunch of ludicrous demands and HeroTV got its ratings. Barnaby laughed, remembering Tiger's mishap from the night before. He ended up falling sixty stories onto a trailer pulling twelve brand new Mercedes convertibles. He wasn't hurt, but the camera captured his priceless expression of horror. Barnaby laughed out loud, covering his mouth.
"Dumbass." Barnaby muttered to himself, biting down on his bottom lip to stifle the silly grin on his face. Tiger had been so embarrassed afterward. His dark skin was stained pink, even the tips of his ears. The old man had actually pouted. Barnaby wiped his face with water, trying to wash away his own stupid expression.
Wild Tiger. Even the name made Barnaby react in odd ways. His heart began to pound, harder, faster. He swallowed heavily, pushing his palm against the slick wall of the shower. He shook his wet hair, a shudder traveling down his spine and settling in his groin.
Barnaby wrestled with his guilt. Should he or shouldn't he? A few seconds later Barnaby stopped thinking all together. His hand snaked down his stomach slowly. He bit down on his lip, imagining Tiger in the shower at work. He imagined Tiger's beautiful, smooth nakedness. He had seen it many times, to be honest, in the course of working together. But how he imagined Tiger and how he remembered Tiger were very different.
He imagined Tiger sopping wet, his dark hair parting ever-so-slightly over his amber eyes. His cheeks were flushed. His voice was raw and raspy and loud. Oh, God. He imagined him turning around, his hands gripping the partitions of the cheap, generic locker room shower. He imagined that perfect, round ass. It would be covered in droplets of water…
Barnaby's hand moved faster, his hand becoming slicker with every motion. He growled, biting down on his lip. He closed his eyes again. He imagined Tiger in his shower, in his home. He imagined Tiger pressed up against the glass door. He imagined pumping into Tiger. Over and over and over again. He imagined Tiger crying out, spilling his seed over the glass.
And then Barnaby's body seized up. He groaned, his hand slowing down until he eventually stopped pumping. He rinsed his hand without looking and bowed his head. The guilt had returned. He leaned forward spinning the cold water on full blast.
"Thank you for your time. There will be no further questions. Our heroes must return to work."
"Barnaby! Barnaby! Over here!"
"Barnaby! Over here, Brooks!"
"Barnaby Brooks, Jr. I'm Cynthia Cox from Channel Six, do you-"
"Barnaby! Barnaby! We have a question!"
"Wild Tiger," the man spoke quietly, attracting Tiger's attention almost instantly. His eyes met Tiger's and Tiger paused, hesitating before climbing into the sidecar. The reporter lifted his recorder and pushed it toward Tiger with a smile. "What's it like to be Barnaby Brooks' sidekick?"
"Tch." Tiger clicked his tongue irritably. "I have no idea." Tiger turned, sliding into the sidecar and preparing to lower the faceplate of his helmet.
"Wild Tiger!" the man called again, more loudly this time. "Do you think you're qualified to be in that seat?" Tiger lowered his helmet and lifted his hand, extending one finger in rude gesture.
"You're in a mood today." Barnaby teased, revving the engine before speeding off into traffic.
"Sorry," Tiger sighed apologetically, pressing his gloved hand to his helmet. "I just can't stand all that fuss." Tiger settled deeper into the sidecar. "Being a hero isn't about press conferences! It's about-"
"It's about points." Barnaby interrupted. He drove the motorcycle with ease, his red suit nearly blinding with the glare from the sun.
"I don't need you to tell me how it's done, Bunny-chan." Tiger insisted. "I've been doing this a lot longer than you have."
"You've been doing everything a lot longer than I have, Old Man…" Barnaby teased. "Doesn't make you good at it."
"Agh! You piss me off." Tiger complained, gripping onto the sides of the car as Barnaby squealed to a stop. Tiger was forced forward by the sudden cessation of motion, smacking roughly against his seat as he bounced back.
Barnaby parked the motorcycle and removed his helmet, whipping his head from side to side. He pushed the helmet down between his legs and began to finger-comb his flaxen hair. He looked at Tiger out of the corner of his eyes, quickly turning away as Tiger looked toward him. "Saito should work on a helmet that doesn't mess up the hair."
"I sincerely doubt Saito cares." Tiger replied dryly, climbing out of the sidecar and walking around the motorcycle onto the sidewalk. He looked down at the display on his suit and cheered quietly. "The conference took so long it's nearly lunchtime."
"You just ate four donuts." Barnaby reminded him, arching a manicured brow.
"And that was breakfast." Tiger answered with a frown, his face still hidden behind his helmet. "I don't keep track of what you eat, Bunny-chan."
"Old Man, my name is Barnaby." Barnaby groaned, the two men walking up the stairs in near unison. "It won't kill you to call me the right name."
"It might," Tiger said with a laugh, removing his helmet as they entered the building. "I ate four donuts this morning."
"Mornin', Wild Tiger. Mornin', Mr. Brooks."
"Goooood morning, Steve!" Tiger drawled loudly, high fiving the elderly security guard.
"You're too loud." Barnaby chastised quietly, stepping through the turnstile.
"I was just talking. That's my normal voice." Tiger whined, squeezing through the turnstile awkwardly. Tiger jogged to catch up with Barnaby and put his hand on the taller man's shoulder. "Steve just found out his wife has cancer. They've been married 42 years…"
"Oh." Barnaby replied with a somewhat guilty shrug. "I had no idea."
"He's worked here for the last 45 years, but he was planning to retire later, after building a better nest egg, but apparently she's real sick and he…"
"He'll probably die first." Barnaby said, without thinking before he spoke. "Men usually do." Barnaby looked up, catching the fleeting expression on Tiger's face. "I don't mean to be rude, I'm just saying, she'll beat her cancer and that poor guy will probably go off in his sleep."
"Bunny-chan," Tiger rasped. "You're a dark soul." He narrowed his amber eyes and shook his head. "If only your fans knew what a terrible person you are."
"They might like me more," Barnaby drawled, his green eyes burning dangerously. "Bad boys are a thing, right?"
"Dark, dark soul…" Tiger muttered, stepping into the elevator after Barnaby.
The elevator opened and Barnaby stepped out, Tiger following. They walked toward the locker room, a rather obvious distance of space between them. The two men undressed quickly, removing their suits with relieved sighs. Barnaby stretched, using one of the benches to press against. Tiger went ahead and hopped in the shower, rinsing his sweaty body quickly.
"Hey, Kotetsu!" Rock Bison called out, waving as he walked toward his locker. "Have fun?"
"Oh, yeah." Tiger muttered. "Ya know, I think every question was for Barnaby. I'm not even sure why I had to be there." Tiger paused, his soapy hand pressing against the partition of the shower stall. He thought about the reporter at the end and he swallowed uneasily. Let it go, Kotetsu, he thought, shaking his head. It doesn't matter.
"You're a team, right?" Rock Bison said with a shrug, spraying himself with an aerosol can of deodorant. "It would be weird if you didn't show up."
"That's what I told him." Barnaby said stepping into the shower stall beside Tiger.
"No you didn't." Tiger said with a shake of his head.
"Oh, I didn't?" Barnaby tilted his head to the side in thought. "Well, I thought it."
"Awww, Bunny-chan doesn't hate me nearly as much as he pretends to…" Tiger teased, dipping his head underneath the showerhead as he closed his eyes. The water drenched his hair, streaming down his face, neck, chest, stomach, groin and legs. He gargled loudly, letting the water bubble over his lips and down his chin. He opened his eyes, surprised to discover that Barnaby was looking at him. Tiger laughed nervously, scratching his head with his hand impishly. "S-Sorry. Did I do something?"
"You don't really think I hate you, do you?" Barnaby asked seriously, his arms folded on top of the shower partition. "I mean, the beginning was rough… I couldn't stand you, but now… you're okay."
"There we have it!" Tiger announced to the mostly empty room. "Barnaby Brooks Jr. thinks Wild Tiger is 'okay'!"
"It'll sell newspapers." Rock Bison teased, pulling on a fresh shirt. He turned around, leaning against the lockers lazily, "Wanna catch some drinks tonight?"
"Sure." Barnaby interrupted, stepping from the shower and wrapping a white towel around his waist. "I'm not doing anything."
Tiger and Rock Bison shared an incredulous look. Was he joking or did he really not understand that Rock Bison had been speaking to Tiger? Rock Bison cleared his throat. "That's great. How about 8?"
"Yeah, 8's fine with me," Tiger answered, looking at the back of Barnaby's head. "It'll be great."
Barnaby nodded his head, walking to his locker wordlessly. He redressed, zipping up his shirt before putting on his pants. Tiger clicked his tongue, opening his own locker. "What?"
"Oh nothing," Tiger said dismissively. "I just don't get it." Tiger turned pointed at the towel still wrapped around Barnaby's waist. "What kinda guy doesn't put pants on first?"
"Does it matter?" Barnaby asked, looking down at the white terry cloth.
"It's kinda a universal thing," Rock Bison added, shrugging. "Underwear, pants and then shirt."
"I don't keep track of how you get dressed, Old Man," Barnaby snapped, slamming his locker shut. He removed his towel tossing it at Tiger wordlessly. He stepped into his boxers, pulling them up to just under his hip bone. He glared at Tiger as he pulled his pants up, zipping them loudly. "Happy?"
"Well, not really…" Tiger called after Barnaby as he walked off. "Your shirt was still on first!"
"Ya'll gonna be okay, Kotetsu? The Rookie seems pretty high strung." Rock Bison turned to look at Tiger sympathetically. "And you are very trying at times."
"Hey!" Tiger protested. "And just so you know, our teamwork is better than ever!"
"Nice." Alexander Lloyds chimed. "Real nice, Wild Tiger."
"Uh uh uh uh uh… I can explain… well, sort of…" Tiger stammered looking down at one of the pictures from that morning's press release. He grimaced, bringing the photo to his face for closer examination. It was undeniably him flicking off the camera from the sidecar of Barnaby's motorcycle. "Can't we just say it was Photostore or something?"
"Photoshop and no…" Lloyds continued irritably. "Because you're the idiot who did this in front of every news station in Sternbild."
"Gah! I'm sorry," Tiger apologized, wringing his cap between his hands. "I really am. I messed up. There was this reporter and he just really grinded my gears-"
"I'm not sure that's a word." Lloyds said, crossing his arms.
"What? What's not a word?" Tiger asked.
"Grinded."
"Grinded…? Well… I wouldn't say it really ground my gears, would I? Oooh… maybe I should've said that… Now I'm doubting myself… My entire life is a lie… I have truly let my mother down…" Tiger spoke quickly pacing back and forth before suddenly stopping, his hands on his hips with indignation. "Would you tell Barnaby Brooks Jr. that 'grinded' wasn't a word?"
"You're not Barnaby, you can quit if you want…" Lloyds finished quickly.
"No, I'm not quitting." Tiger snapped, folding his arms over his chest sulkily. "But I'm pretty sure that 'grinded' is a word in many contexts."
"Get out of my office," Lloyds waved his hand irritably. "Start writing a formal apology." Lloyds pointed his finger at Tiger sternly. "I want it by this afternoon. Before you leave!" Tiger spun on his heels, walking toward the door quickly. As he shut the door behind him he heard Lloyds's voice, "The word is ground."
"Grinded!" Tiger shouted, pressing his lips against the door. "That grinded my gears! She grinded on the stage! She ground the pepper on my salad!"
"What on earth are you doing, Wild Tiger?" Lloyds asked, opening the door a sliver of an inch. "Go away."
Tiger stalked to his desk, twisting in his chair dejectedly. Barnaby sat beside him, typing away. Tiger didn't even know what Barnaby could possibly be doing. Sure, hero work took a lot of paperwork, but hours of it? Tiger suspected Barnaby of a secret online life, probably in a chat room picking up chicks.
"What did Lloyds want?" Barnaby asked, turning in his chair to face Tiger. He adjusted his glasses, pushing them back onto the bridge of his nose.
"Grammar lessons." Tiger muttered, swirling his pen across the page of his desk calendar. He looked up and smiled guiltily. "I was getting in trouble."
"For your new hero pose?" Barnaby asked, an uncharacteristically bright smile twisting his handsome face.
Tiger chuckled, resting his head in his hands. "Yeah."
"I thought it was funny." Barnaby said quietly, leaning forward. His green eyes glittered and he grinned, his hand pressing down on Tiger's head. "And he was being an ass."
"Yeah!" Tiger exclaimed in agreement, tilting back in his chair. "You heard that guy?!"
"I would like a list of your qualifications on my desk by Monday." Barnaby teased.
"Ha ha." Tiger laughed humorlessly, shaking his head. "It'd be my resignation before anything else."
"Don't say that…" Barnaby replied thickly, his blonde lashes fluttering innocently. "My years spent in Hero Academy, who do you think I looked up to? Which Hero do you think I watched, and thought… I can do that, faster and without breaking as much shit?"
"Eh, bite me, Bunny." Tiger spun around in his chair and stood up. "I'm outta here."
"What about your apology?" Barnaby asked.
Tiger turned around, walked quickly back to his desk and sank into his chair. He kicked himself around to face his computer and sighed heavily. He unlocked his computer and pulled up the word program. He began to type, chewing on his bottom lip thoughtfully. "Ha! I was right!"
"About what?" Barnaby asked, looking at Tiger in confusion.
"Right here… see…" Tiger pointed to his computer screen. "Grinded. It is a word."
"I think it becomes 'ground' when it's past tense…" Barnaby replied thoughtfully, pushing his glasses up his nose.
"Shut up, kid." Tiger waved his hand in front of Barnaby's face. "If you can't be happy for me, just be quiet."
"You're late." Barnaby said sternly, looking down at his watch impatiently.
Tiger opened his mouth to protest but Rock Bison interrupted him, "Over thirty minutes."
"Antonio, I'm always late…" Tiger said unapologetically. "It's been over 20 years. If you haven't realized that yet, you don't deserve to complain."
"Yes, but I don't usually have to wait 30 minutes with the Rookie…" Rock Bison hissed into Tiger's ear. "Thanks Ko-tet-su…"
"Sorry, I'm late." Tiger surrendered, pressing his hands together peaceably. "First round is on me."
"Top shelf tequila sunrise." Rock Bison ordered, flagging down the bartender.
"Rose wine, please." Barnaby added quickly.
Tiger's mouth hung open for a moment before he smiled, "And I'll take a bottle of Soju."
The bartender nodded, bringing the gentlemen their drinks quickly. Tiger looked over at Rock Bison, Barnaby sitting between them. Tiger almost chuckled, it was rather humorous. He pat Barnaby on the back and leaned forward, grinning across the bar at Rock Bison. "I had a dream last night, it was fantastic. I never thought much of Matilda Bronwick until last night."
"Yeah?" Rock Bison said, requesting another drink. "You think much of 'er now?"
"Oh, yeah." Tiger confided, nodding his head slowly. He poured another glass of Soju and wriggled his brows at Barnaby. "This stupid cow likes Paola Pueblo. He thinks that ass is real…"
"It is real. She's a proud and sexy Latina…" Rock Bison insisted, smacking his hand against the table. He leaned closer to Barnaby, nearly crushing the younger man. "What're you into, Rookie?"
"I don't agree with the sexual objectification of women." Barnaby answered coolly, snapping his glasses back in place. He sipped from the wineglass, his eyes drifting from Rock Bison to Tiger and back again. "I kind of have to know a person before I…"
Tiger and Rock Bison sat back, both sighing heavily with disappointment. "Come on man, that ain't bar talk." Rock Bison waved the bartender over, "Let's get our friend something a little more wild than wine. Something that'll fuck him up… in a good way."
"I don't want something else." Barnaby said simply.
A few minutes later however, Barnaby was drinking a cute, little icy, blue drink. He smelled the liquid, the scent a mixture of sprite and orange. He shrugged and took a sip. It was a little sourer than he cared for, but it wasn't bad. He took another sip and then another until only the ice was left clinking in the glass.
Rock Bison was on his fifth drink, Tiger had just finished his third whole bottle and Barnaby was waiting for his second 'Booty Call' when the conversation took a strange turn. "Well, I've never had a sex dream…" Rock Bison said slowly, shaking his head as if in shame. "I mean, I've woken up sticky, but it wasn't from a dream or nothin'. Really disappointing. I keep waiting… one day, man, one day…"
"You aren't jerking off enough," Tiger said matter-of-factly. "You gotta jerk off right before bed or immediately when you wake up. It promotes healthy brain activity."
"I think you jus' made that up." Rock Bison said, his words slurring together slightly.
"No, it's science." Tiger argued. He thanked the bartender as a fourth bottle of Soju was placed in front of him and then turned toward Barnaby. "Bunny, Bun-ny, you're with me right?"
"Sure." Barnaby said, his pale cheeks stained pink. He sucked on the straw, his eyes settling slowly onto Tiger's face. "I usually jerk off three or four times a day."
"Huh?" Tiger exclaimed loudly, leaning back on his stool. "Three or four times… a day?!"
"He's young." Rock Bison said dismissively. "Must be nice." Rock Bison stood up, the stool scraping the floor noisily. "I'm gon' go take a piss. Be right back."
"What do you even masturbate to? I mean…" Tiger leaned closely to whisper. "If you aren't sexualizing women, I think I caught you in a big, fat lie."
Barnaby looked at Tiger as if he had been insulted. He leaned forward, his forehead pressing against Tiger's. "I jerk off thinking about men."
Tiger choked on the Soju, spewing the liquor all over his shirt and the bar in front of him. Tiger's amber eyes widened and he turned on the stool, his knees knocking against Barnaby's leg. Tiger slapped the table and peered into Barnaby's face, "Are you serious…" Barnaby laughed, looking down at his hands. He opened his mouth to speak but Tiger's laughter halted him. Tiger slapped his knee, his eyes crinkling and his nose scrunching. "Oh my God. I thought you were serious for a minute. You almost gave this old man a heart attack."
Tiger straightened up in his chair, his right hand twisting the wedding band on his ring finger. He looked at Barnaby out of the corner of his eye and shook his head. Barnaby cleared his throat, pushing his drink away. He pressed his palms against the bar, as if to stand, but at the last minute changed his mind. He turned back toward Tiger and smiled. He laughed, and even though he was nervous, the sound was throaty and seductive.
"I'm not kidding." Barnaby said, nodding his head slowly. He combed his hand through his hair tensely, his green eyes focused solely on Tiger. "It wasn't a joke." He looked down, staring at the gold wedding ring twisting around Tiger's finger. "I'm only sexually attracted to men."
"Bunny-chan," Tiger said slowly, his hands wringing in his lap. He smiled crookedly and pat Barnaby on the shoulder. "Ya know. None of us heroes would ever care about something like that…" Tiger chuckled to himself before looking back at Barnaby. "Seymour might. He's a real prick sometimes." Tiger scratched his goateed chin. "He'll be pissed you didn't say anything before."
"It's no one's business." Barnaby said calmly, watching Tiger squirm under his intense gaze.
"That's right." Tiger agreed, waving his hand. "You only tell who you want to tell…"
"I feel better after telling you, actually." Barnaby confessed. "I felt so guilty."
"Hey, Bunny-chan," Tiger said, his voice bouncing over Barnaby's nickname affectionately. He smiled kindly and reached out to pat Barnaby's hand. It was awkward and something deep inside of Barnaby relished it. "No need to feel guilty… I mean… it's totally cool… I can understand why… it's just… you know, you can be completely honest with me…"
"Thanks, Old Man." Barnaby said, a strange seed taking root in his belly. He wanted to see more. He wanted to see Tiger raw and vulnerable and exposed. Barnaby scooted toward Tiger, drawing as close as he dared. Tiger looked up into his eyes, his innocent amber eyes nearly taking his breath away. "I feel guilty because I get off to you."
"You really don't need to feel g- What? W-w-w-w-w-w-w-what?" Tiger stammered uncontrollably, his handsome face twisted into a shocked and embarrassed expression. His bottom lip curled up and he bit down on it, his amber eyes wide. He swallowed, his delicate throat trembling from the movement. His hand covered his mouth, a deep scarlet blush creeping across the top of his cheeks and under his eyes.
He looked beautiful. Barnaby inhaled sharply, the pressure shifting in his jeans. He savored every inch of Tiger's face. The sensual mouth covered by the modest hand, the wide open, watery eyes that could no longer meet his gaze, the pink cheeks that burned with embarrassment, liquor and maybe something more…
"I'm only kidding, Old Man." Barnaby said, pushing himself up from the stool. He dropped a twenty on the bar and turned, walking toward the door. He heard the stool behind him scrape and he twisted, watching Tiger stumble to his feet. He gave a little smile and waved, "Goodnight, Tiger."
Rock Bison returned a few minutes later. The men settled their tabs and went on their way. "Cheeky little shit," Tiger fumed, pushing his hands into the pockets of his slacks. He walked alone, the streetlamps illuminating the cracked sidewalk beneath his feet. He had a sudden and inexplicable craving for pancakes.
He crossed the street and popped into one of the many 24 hour diners in Sternbild. He slid into a booth, adjusting his mask as the server approached. She smiled down at him and then looked around, almost as if she expected Barnaby to show up any moment. "How're ya, doing? My name is Melissa and I'll be your server, just one?"
"Yep, just one." Tiger sighed, taking the laminated menu from the server. "I'll start with a coffee, please, and, ah, I don't need to look, I just want some pancakes."
"Shortstack or the Super Lumberjack-a-stack?"
"Uh, hmm, short stack is fine." Tiger answered with a polite smile.
"Eggs?"
"Uh, ah, well, sunny side up?"
"Toast? Grits? Hashbrowns?"
"Toast."
"Wheat or white?"
"Ah, wheat please."
"Sausage or bacon?"
"Oh, well, bacon, I suppose."
"Sure thing, Mr. Wild."
"Thanks," Tiger replied feeling absolutely exhausted. He scratched his chin and exhaled heavily. Can't I just get pancakes?
The food took a while and, after three cups of weak coffee, Tiger didn't particularly even care for pancakes anymore. He sprawled out in the booth, letting his head rest in the crevice of the window. The blinds swayed against the top of his head but he ignored it.
When his food came he sat up, smiling at the server politely. "Thanks." He unwrapped the napkin from his silverware and pressed his hands together. "Itadakimasu!" He dumped the syrup over his pancakes and began to eat, his hunger returning with a vengeance.
"Good evening, Wild Tiger."
Tiger looked up at the male reporter, his cheek puffed out from being overstuffed. He chewed quickly, pushing the pancake to the side of his mouth. He narrowed his eyes and spoke with a full mouth, "Whuh do ooh wont?"
"What do I want?" the reporter asked with smile. "I would like an exclusive."
Tiger swallowed with difficulty. He took a swig of the lukewarm coffee and wiped his hands on his napkin. "You'll have to go through Apollon for that."
"I have to go through Apollon for Barnaby Brooks Jr." the man said with a tight smile. "He's very popular and very busy. You aren't… Come on, just 45 minutes tops. One little interview."
"I'm not really into that sort of thing." Tiger explained, piercing the yolk of his egg and smearing it over his toast. "I'm not interesting enough for 45 minutes anyway."
"Look," the man said reluctantly, smoothing down his wavy brown hair. "I'm not young anymore. I'm not getting the breaking news stories. I'm not going overseas. I'm getting fluff pieces about singing cats and knitting grandmas…" the man looked down in embarrassment. "I could really use a good piece."
"Well," Tiger hesitated, looking down at his plate of half-eaten food. "How about tomorrow? I could swing by your office after work or…"
"No, no!" the man insisted excitedly. "Please, I want you to be comfortable. Let's meet somewhere, say, like a bar?"
"Ah," Tiger exclaimed happily. "That I can manage! I know a great place close to the station it's-"
"Mr. Wild Tiger, I already have the perfect place in mind." The reporter began to scribble an address on the back of a business card. He handed it to Tiger with a wide smile. "I can't wait to interview you."
"Sure, sure." Tiger said, waving his hand dismissively. He turned the card over and read the name embossed on the off-white card, Richard Max. "I'll see ya tomorrow, Richard."
The reporter stood and Tiger was surprised by how stocky the man was. He looked more at home in a boxing ring than hunched over at a desk. He shook Tiger's hand and walked out of the restaurant, disappearing into the dark street a moment later.
"Good morning." Tiger called, strutting into the room excitedly. He buttoned his vest again and filled a cup from the water cooler. "It's a lovely day."
"You're late." Barnaby said without looking up. He sat in front of his computer, the screen glaring off of his glasses, clacking away at the keyboard.
"What do you even do every day?" Tiger asked in exasperation. "Are you writing a romance novel? What? Please! Please tell me how to look busy, Bunny-chan."
"I'm working," Barnaby replied, looking up at Tiger. "I'm reexamining everything we have on Jake and Maverick. I'm trying to find the missing piece. There is something here. Ouroboros isn't invisible."
Tiger wanted to scream. He was attempting to act as naturally as possible. He didn't know how to process the night before. He swallowed the water and tossed the cup in the garbage can. Just keep moving. Just keep talking. Just keep breathing.
Barnaby turned in his chair, looking up at Tiger with an unreadable expression. His eyes were red, probably from drinking too much the night before. Tiger could see the slight hint of stubble growing across Barnaby's strong chin. Barnaby didn't feel normal today either, and somehow, that realization soothed Tiger's stomach. Tiger smiled tightly and sat down at his desk. He shuffled through the stack of paper, the smile fading as he realized they were all invoices. The top invoice alone was for over $1,628,316 of damages.
"Crusher of Justice is very befitting."
"Shaddap, Bunny." Tiger croaked, sinking further onto his chair.
"You probably hold the record for breaking the most things in Sternbild." Barnaby teased, eating a handful of almonds.
"Well, I did back in Oriental Town." Tiger muttered, covering his face with his cap.
"Oriental Town?" Barnaby asked curiously.
"Home." Tiger said simply as he began to twist the gold wedding band around his finger.
"You're a country bumpkin." Barnaby realized with a grin. "Explains why you're always late."
"And you're a rich kid." Tiger retorted. "Explains why you always just do as you please."
"I've always found that phrase irritating." Barnaby mused. "How would you know what pleases me?"
Tiger found himself blushing and he looked away quickly. Why would that make his face grow hot? Why would he take such a normal, innocent line and twist the words into something humiliating? Tiger cleared his throat and unlocked his computer.
Tiger spent the entire day in Microsoft Excel, creating a ledger for the month's total damages. He didn't need to; he knew all too well that they would definitely be letting him know soon enough. But it kept him busy and, when people walked by his desk, that's what they wanted to see.
"Thank you for your hard work," Tiger said, more out of habit than anything, bowing to Barnaby politely. "It's quittin' time."
Barnaby pushed his glasses further up his nose and watched Tiger expressionlessly. He stood up and grabbed his jacket, shrugging it over his shoulders. "You were late. You should stay and make up that time."
"But then I'll be late for dinner," Tiger said, his face twisting into a playful pout. "And the cycle will just continue…"
"Do you have plans for dinner?" Barnaby asked, his green eyes narrowing as he spoke. "Or does standing in your underwear, eating fried rice, alone in your dirty house count as a date?"
"You're so mean." Tiger complained, pushing his hands into his pockets. He looked up at Barnaby with a peculiar expression, his cap shadowing over the top of his handsome face.
"I'm not mean." Barnaby said simply. "I just don't sugarcoat anything."
"Good evening, Bunny-chan," Tiger said, stepping around Barnaby and walking toward the door.
"Wait!" Barnaby called out. Tiger paused, turning to look at the younger man with interest. Barnaby swallowed nervously but maintained his cool exterior with ease. He smiled and approached Tiger, nearly pressing his body against the older man's. "Wanna grab a bite?"
"Ah, well," Tiger looked down in thought, his finger tapping his cheek. "Sure. Where'dya wanna go?"
"Is there any good Asian food here?" Barnaby suggested, watching Tiger's face light up excitedly. "I've been meaning to try some. I've never really had anything beyond your fried rice, at least not from authentic places…"
"Well, it's not quite Oriental Town good, but there is a little Korean barbeque place off of G Street and Legend Park Drive." Tiger explained quickly. He took off his cap and scrunched it in his hands as he spoke. "The beef tongue is so good. Ah, yes, I would die without gui."
"Sounds good." Barnaby said, smiling softly. He watched Tiger silently as they walked. He couldn't help but stare at the older man in the elevator. He followed behind him as they left the building, inhaling the wind that carried Tiger's musky scent. So many times he fought the urge to reach out and take Tiger's hand into his. Barnaby stepped closer, pretending to accidentally brush against him. Tiger turned and looked up and he smiled beautifully. And Barnaby's heart felt as if it was in a tightening vice.
"Are you okay, Bunny-chan?" Tiger asked, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk suddenly. People began to groan and complain and Barnaby pushed Tiger to the side and out of the way with an irritated huff. Tiger shook his head and crossed his arms. "What's the matter… something's the matter…"
"Nothing's the matter." Barnaby insisted, pressing his side against the brick wall of the building. He faced Tiger, their bodies only inches apart. Tiger's body ran warm and the heat filled the space between them. It was intoxicating and Barnaby's head began to swim. He felt dizzy, almost, and as if his eyes were the last thing above water. "I'm just hungry." He lied, shaking the hair from his eyes. "It's making me lightheaded."
"Your cheeks are pink." Tiger pointed out. His eyes were soft and wide with concern. His mouth was drawn ever-so-slightly to the side. His hand fidgeted with that God forsaken wedding ring. "And you're being really quiet. Maybe you're getting sick?"
"Or maybe you talk too much and I haven't had an opening." Barnaby reasoned, looking down at his feet to avoid the pain in Tiger's eyes. Tiger was a grown man and he shouldn't be so sensitive in Barnaby's opinion.
"I'm ignoring you." Tiger said with a shrug. "Let's get some food in you so you can stop being so bitchy."
Barnaby opened his mouth to protest but he hesitated. Across the street, a man stood, watching their exchange. He was dressed conspicuously, a large coat, sunglasses and a hat pulled low over his face. The man was unmoving, seemingly oblivious to the pedestrian traffic that struggled to get around him. Barnaby was rather unsettled until he realized the man had a camera slung around his neck. It wouldn't be the first time a photographer had followed him. Tiger began to walk again and Barnaby followed, but when he turned to get another look at the man, he was gone.
When they arrived at the restaurant the host greeted Tiger warmly, sitting them in a cozy corner booth. Barnaby smiled and looked around the beautifully decorated space, complete with live plants, hand painted screens and fans, antique dolls (which were rather creepy to be honest), and a center fountain with bamboo and dripping water.
"Wow." Barnaby said, looking down at the menu as if it were an insurmountable task. "It's pretty in here."
"Yeah," Tiger agreed. He didn't open the menu. It made Barnaby nervous.
"So, hmm," Barnaby began to panic. He felt so anxious that he thought he might get sick. "What are you getting?"
"Why don't we get the combo gui?" Tiger suggested. "It serves four and we eat a lot…"
Barnaby sighed in relief. He nodded, placing the menu back down on the smooth, marble table. "Fine by me."
"It'll come with Kimchi, tofu, bean sprouts…" Tiger began to explain the meal and Barnaby settled more comfortably onto the bench. When the food arrived, seasoned but raw, Tiger was the one to prepare it. He explained patiently, and without being asked, how to properly eat everything.
They chatted noisily as Tiger drank Soju and Barnaby enjoyed a glass of wine. Barnaby couldn't admit it aloud, but he loved tipsy Tiger. Tipsy Tiger was more relaxed, funnier, and sillier, less likely to realize he was being stared at. But tipsy Tiger was also more seductive. The way his eyes became hooded. The slight drawl in his raspy voice. The way his lips wrapped around his cup. That his lips were wet and swollen the more he drank. The way he twisted his wedding ring, pulling it up to the knuckle and then pushing it back down again.
"Oh, shit." Tiger exclaimed, smacking his forehead. "I forgot, I gotta go."
"Go where?" Barnaby asked, shaking his head. Tiger had been drinking a lot. Tiger couldn't go anywhere at this point. "It's late and you're drunk, Old Man."
"I have an interview." Tiger explained, pulling his wallet out from his pocket. He fumbled with the bills, leaving over a hundred dollars on the table.
"An interview?" Barnaby shook his head with skepticism. "Lloyds didn't mention anything and it's nearly 10 o'clock at night."
Tiger searched for the card absently. "Hmmm… his name was Max… Something Max…" There was a startling beeping noise and both of the heroes looked down at the devices on their wrists. "Ah, shit."
Barnaby groaned. He had simply watched Tiger becoming more and more intoxicated. He knew that Tiger shouldn't drink so much, but he never suggested the older man stop. And now Agnes was summoning them. Barnaby shook his head and grabbed Tiger by the collar of his shirt. "Come on."
"W-w-w-w-wait!" Tiger stammered, gesturing to the server as he was pulled away.
"Hurry, we've gotta stop and get you a coffee." Barnaby instructed, holding Tiger up straight by force alone. Barnaby left Tiger waiting outside as he went into a convenience store. A few moments later he returned with a black coffee and a sports drink.
"Heroes," Agnes' voice interrupted. "There is a high level NEXT. He is destroying City Hall…" Barnaby turned off his communicator and then Tiger's, pushing Tiger into the alley behind the restaurant.
"If you turn that off, our suits won't get here."
"You're drunk, Old Man." Barnaby snapped, pushing Tiger up against the wall. "You can't go until you're sober."
"But your points-"
"I know…" Barnaby growled, his green eyes narrowing. "So sober up."
"Eh burr muh tonguh." Tiger sipped the scalding coffee slowly. Barnaby was too impatient; he pulled at the collar of Tiger's shirt, popping the buttons off haphazardly. Tiger protested as Barnaby removed his vest, tearing his shirt and exposing his muscled chest. "Hey! What the hell are ya doin?"
"Cool air will help." Barnaby explained. Tiger nodded in understanding, holding the cup of coffee more closely for warmth. He took another sip, a chill spreading over his olive skin. Barnaby took a step closer, watching the prickled flesh appear before his very eyes. Barnaby swallowed thickly and his pants grew uncomfortably tight. "Feeling better?"
"Yeah," Tiger admitted. "Feeling fine now."
Barnaby pressed his palms against the brick beside Tiger's head. He lowered himself, leaning in so closely that he could feel Tiger's breath fanning across his cheek. Tiger's amber eyes were expectant, unsure, curious. Barnaby licked his lips and turned the communicator back on.
"Agnes?" Barnaby whispered, still unbearably close to Tiger.
"Where have you been? I've been trying to get in contact with you for over-"
"We're ready for our suits." Barnaby said.
"Two minutes."
"Okay."
Barnaby lowered his wrist as the transmission ended. He watched Tiger wordlessly. Tiger was pressed against the wall, his clothes ruined, his skin prickled with gooseflesh. His breath came in sporadic bursts, his tongue darting across his lips subconsciously. Barnaby cursed, pushing away from Tiger.
"Bunny-chan…" Tiger breathed.
"What?" Barnaby asked stiffly.
"Yesterday…" Tiger began unsurely. "What you said at the bar… Are you really gay?"
"That has nothing to do with you being an alcoholic, Tiger." Barnaby barked, looking anywhere but at Tiger.
"I'm only asking because it feels like there's…" Tiger paused, wracking his brain for the right words to say. "There's something keeping us from getting along."
"We get along." Barnaby argued, folding his arms. "What are you talking about?"
"Uh…" Tiger rolled his eyes, gesturing with his arms. "You are trying to beat me up in an alley."
"What?!" Barnaby nearly choked on the word.
"You throw me into the wall, ruin my clothes… You tell me I'm an idiot every chance you get…" Tiger crushed the flimsy cup in his hand, coffee streaming down his fist and pouring onto the ground. "I can only take so much pushing before I push back, Barnaby."
"I'm not trying to hurt you, you fucking moron." Barnaby fumed, rounding on Tiger. He pushed Tiger's chest, forcing the slighter man backward.
"Then what the fuck are you doing?" Tiger fired back, his hands wrapping around Barnaby's wrists. His grip was strong and pain exploded down Barnaby's arms. Barnaby fought the urge to cry out, instead pushing with all his weight forward.
"I don't know what I'm doing!" Barnaby shouted, knocking his shoulder into Tiger's chest. The force of the blow freed his arms and Tiger was thrown to the ground. His stomach twisted into knots. Tiger sat on the ground silently, his head down. Barnaby swallowed and extended his hand, offering to help Tiger to his feet.
Tiger looked up, his face expressionless and calm. "Ya know, when I was little I would throw tantrums. I would get angry and rage and break things. I was different from everyone. I felt like a freak. My mother and my brother, hell, they suffered. I was terrible to them." Tiger paused, watching Barnaby closely. "I said things I didn't mean. I lashed out. I refused their help, their love, their advice. I isolated myself and blamed them." Tiger climbed to his feet, ignoring Barnaby's hand. "I was angry at myself for being me and so I punished everyone else."
"Barnaby, it's okay to be different." Tiger said, offering a kind smile. "It's okay to be homosexual or bisexual or whatever…" Tiger placed his hand on Barnaby's shoulder. "You're my partner and my friend and I don't think anything is wrong with you."
"Wow. Okay."
"I don't care." Tiger promised. "This won't change anything."
"You've missed the entire point. I was telling the truth last night." Barnaby breathed. He approached Tiger slowly, his hand reaching up and caressing the older man's soft cheek. He pressed his lips to Tiger's, kissing him deeply. He took a step back smiling sadly, "This changes everything."
With a tremendous whirr, an expansive vehicle came to a stop in front of the alley. Doors shot open and two robotic suits were lowered to the ground. Barnaby took one last look at Tiger, who still stood shocked and speechless, before suiting up.
"Bunny, wait! Wait! Please! Bunny!" Tiger called after Barnaby, chasing him down the hall. "Just hang on a minute. Stop walking…" Tiger ran ahead of Barnaby and threw out his arms, barring Barnaby access to the locker room. "Hey, look at me. Talk to me. Can't we talk about this?"
"No." Barnaby said.
"Bun-ny." Tiger whined, pressing his legs against the wall. He used all of his remaining energy to block the locker room, holding steady despite Barnaby's body pushing against his.
"Move."
"No." Tiger replied defiantly. He was out of breath. His body was insanely sore. Every muscle twitched and screamed as he struggled to remain in place. "You're not leaving tonight until we talk."
"I'm not mad at you for only getting thirty points tonight." Barnaby snapped. "I may have slipped to second place, to fucking Sky High, but yeah, I'll be fine." Barnaby glowered, his face inches from Tiger's. "Now move, Old Man."
Barnaby charged through, nearly tripping over Tiger as he forced his way into the locker room. He didn't stop to check on Tiger, he didn't turn around. He went straight to his locker and began to undress. He walked to the shower, turning the cold water on full blast.
There was a commotion outside of the locker room as the others finally arrived. Sky High and Origami Cyclone were in the locker room. They were chatting about the fight and about points and a hundred other menial things. Suddenly, Origami Cyclone gasped, "Oh, are you okay, Wild Tiger?"
"You're bleeding and you are bleeding a lot." Sky High added. Barnaby's head snapped up. He stepped forward, the water streaming down his face and body in ropes of droplets.
Tiger was sitting on the floor in a rather childlike position, his legs folded beneath him, his hands in his lap and his head bowed. He looked up as Origami Cyclone and Sky High addressed him. Blood streamed from his nose and dripped down from inside his mouth. He raised his hand, swirling through the blood before examining his fingers.
"What happened, Mr. Tiger?" Origami Cyclone asked, his beautiful, violet eyes open wide in concern. "Didn't you see triage before leaving the scene?"
"I fell." Tiger answered simply, looking up at Sky High and Origami Cyclone as if he might get in trouble.
Fire Emblem and Rock Bison walked into the locker room. They gave Tiger, Sky High and Origami Cyclone a wide berth, watching them with interest. Rock Bison opened his locker and then turned around to look at Tiger, "You okay, man?"
"Wild Tiger has gotten hurt in a fall and he has fallen down." Sky High kneeled beside Tiger, hooking one of his strong arms around Tiger's slight waist. He lifted Tiger to his feet easily. His arm remained around Tiger, holding him tightly. His blue eyes scanned Tiger and he shook his head. "Are you seriously hurt? Do you have a concussion?"
"How would he know?" Fire Emblem rolled their eyes as they began to undress. "If he's concussed he probably hasn't evaluated his condition…"
"He's not that old." Barnaby replied, wrapping the towel around his waist. "Falling down shouldn't be such a huge concern."
Tiger looked up at Barnaby, a peculiar look crossing his oddly blank face. He lifted his hand and pointed an accusatory finger. "Bunny pushed me."
"Oh my God." Barnaby groaned, covering his face and walking toward his locker in shock.
"What? Oh, my. Handsome, why would you do that?" Fire Emblem asked, their nails combing through their short, pink hair.
"What's going on, Kotetsu?" Rock Bison asked, narrowing his eyes threateningly. "Do I need to crush the Rookie?"
"This is getting complicated and, once again, I say this is getting complicated." Sky High said, releasing Tiger slowly.
"Will you stop repeating yourself? Gah! You are so annoying!" Fire Emblem growled. "We understood you the first time, Keith."
"Sorry," Sky High muttered sadly. "I'm working on it."
"Kotetsu, what happened?" Rock Bison repeated, his large, heavy hands balling into fists. This could be problematic, Barnaby realized. It would be at least another hour before his Hundred Power returned. Rock Bison would have him folded into a pretzel before he could cry 'uncle'.
"Nothing happened." Tiger answered at last. He looked at Barnaby and then at Rock Bison. "I'm going home."
"You should see one of the medics before you leave." Origami Cyclone suggested. "It looks like your lip got torn a bit at the top."
"Eh," Tiger said, finally managing a smile. "It'll be healed before morning."
"Be careful on your way home, Tiger," Sky High called after him, giving an uneasy wave.
As soon as Tiger disappeared around the corner the four other people rounded on Barnaby. Fire Emblem sprayed their self with a strong fragrance, their lips pursed in disappointment. "Are you bullying our man-child, Rookie?"
"Huh?" Barnaby shrugged, looking around at the others in surprise. To be honest, they usually took his side and not Tiger's.
"What didja do?" Rock Bison asked, crossing his arms and flexing his thick, attractive muscles.
"He was trying to stop me from coming in here. He wouldn't move so I just kinda went over the top of him." Barnaby confessed, suddenly feeling very childish and small.
"You should have checked to see if he was okay," Origami Cyclone chastised.
"You can't just leave another Hero on the ground." Sky High added with a heavy nod.
"I really, really don't need you guys patronizing me." Barnaby pulled his shirt over his head and unfolded a clean pair of jeans. "He wouldn't move. I pushed him. So what?"
The Heroes didn't know what to say. They couldn't possibly, Barnaby thought, since they had no idea what was really going on. Barnaby finished dressing and slammed his locker shut. The row of lockers shook and a slip of paper from one of the other lockers fluttered to the ground.
The Heroes looked at one another unsurely and then Sky High walked forward, bending down to retrieve the item. He turned it around, staring at it with a peculiar expression. He looked up at the other Heroes in the room and shook his head. "What is this? Is this what it looks like?"
Fire Emblem grabbed the paper and read aloud, "You are a disappointment. You should have come. Now you'll be sorry." Fire Emblem frowned and handed the note to Rock Bison. "This came from Tiger's locker."
Every eye in the room turned to Barnaby. They wanted answers and suddenly Barnaby felt sick. "I don't know any more than you guys do." Barnaby took the note from Rock Bison and traced his thumb over the typed words. "This was done on a typewriter."
"Well Mr. Tiger didn't write it." Origami Cyclone whispered. "So, that means it was meant for him…"
"Wait," Barnaby said, shaking his head. "He was supposed to meet someone. He said he had an interview tonight."
"An interview?" Fire Emblem said unsurely. "But that would be through Lloyds and-"
"He said this one wasn't." Barnaby spoke quickly, wracking his brain for more information. What had Tiger said his name was? Barnaby's hand shook, the paper wobbling noisily.
"First things first," Sky High said calmly. "We call the police. This isn't the first time one of us Heroes has received an odd letter… Blue Rose has had many stalkers… Just last year Origami-"
"We don't need to talk about it." Origami Cyclone interrupted with a shudder. "Everyone remembers."
"I'll call," Fire Emblem offered, pulling out a sparkly, pink phone. "You should get ahold of Tiger, Antonio."
Rock Bison nodded, "Yeah, sure. I'll call and maybe swing by his house to check things out."
"I can help," Origami Cyclone insisted impatiently.
"You should go tell Blue Rose and Dragon Kid." Sky High suggested. "We can all benefit from being cautious and aware."
"Okay." Origami Cyclone replied, not bothering to hide his disappointment.
"I'm going to go find him." Barnaby said suddenly. He didn't wait for a response before running from the locker room.
Tiger saw the cow on the caller id and pressed ignore, tossing his phone onto the coffee table. He only wanted to speak with one person and he could wait. He was older if not entirely wiser and he wasn't afraid to wait him out. If Tiger was anything, he was persistent.
There was a knock on the door and Tiger exhaled heavily. He hadn't expected him to come over so soon. He stood and walked over to the door. He pushed open his front door, crossing his legs and leaning against the wall lazily. "Oh, uh, hi, uh…" Tiger muttered. "I am sorry, I was on my way and we got the call and then… wait, wait, wait! How did you know where I live?"
Richard Max frowned deeply, removing a small black object from his pocket. He removed a cap, exposing two silver prongs. By the time Tiger recognized the weapon it was too late. A spark of blue electricity began to flow and Richard pressed the stun gun against Tiger's stomach. Tiger cried out, his body stiffening before he collapsed onto the floor. Richard leaned down, continuously pressing the stun gun against Tiger. Spit frothed from Tiger's mouth and his eyes rolled into the back of his head.
Richard replaced the stun gun in his pocket and shut the door behind him. He looked around the house, even opening the fridge and helping himself to a beer. He took a few sips and then went upstairs. He pushed open the bedroom door and jumped onto the bed. He rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling.
After a moment he sat up, yanking the duvet from the bed. He carried it downstairs and spread it out on the floor. He shuffled over to the stereo and switched to cd mode. He turned the music up to the highest volume and walked away. With a sigh, he rolled the still unconscious Tiger on top of the duvet and pulled the corners together. He carried the bundle awkwardly to the front door. He pushed it open with his foot and, fumbling with the self-lock, pulled it closed behind him.
"I told ya, Barnaby, just let me do it!" Rock Bison growled irritably.
"Tiger!" Barnaby yelled, breaking through the door. The frame slivered, scratching a deep gouge across his forearm. "Tiger!" He walked over to the entertainment center and turned off the music. "Tiger?"
"God, that music's been blaring for almost an hour." The neighbor complained, fidgeting with the curlers in her hair. "Mr. Wild Tiger is never this inconsiderate."
"Did anyone else come here? Was anyone hanging around his townhome or was anyone around today that shouldn't have been?" Rock Bison asked, inspecting the frame of the door.
"Oh, no, not really. I haven't noticed a thing." She nodded her head, tugging on the collar of her nightdress. "And I bird watch…"
Barnaby came back down the stairs, taking two at a time. "He's not here."
"Perhaps he stepped out for a bit and the player just turned on… by itself… They can do all sorts of nifty things now…" the neighbor suggested.
"Just be calm." Rock Bison said, grabbing Barnaby's arm. "Maybe he got a little drunk and locked himself out of the house."
"Drunk? In 45 minutes since we saw him last, sober. Drunk? When there is one beer sitting out, and it doesn't even appear to have been drank at all." Barnaby snapped, pushing his glasses up his nose.
"Barnaby," Rock Bison growled so only Barnaby could hear. "We know nothing. If this broad hears a rumor like this, she's gonna talk. She talks and it gets on the news, it gets on the news and the Kaburagis hear about it over breakfast."
Barnaby swallowed slowly and took a step back, nodding his head. "He must have stepped out for something. I do apologize for my partner's lack of tact. No one should ever play music that loudly, especially late at night."
"Oh, no, it's no problem, Barnaby." The neighbor assured him.
"I'll walk you home." Barnaby said, offering her his arm.
"Oh, what a fine young man!"
Barnaby walked the old woman home, smiling as she gave him a peck on the cheek. He walked back to Tiger's house, his hands pushed in his pockets. When he got there Rock Bison was on the phone. While he was busy, Barnaby gave himself permission to explore.
The house was Asian contemporary, which surprised Barnaby, and it would have been in impeccable taste if it had been a little tidier. He trailed his hand along the full size bar, letting the glasses clink together. He opened a narrow door, it was the laundry room, he stepped inside and picked up the iron sitting on the drier. He smiled once he saw the rack of identical dress shirts waiting to be pressed. He shut the door to the laundry room and circled back around the kitchen. He walked upstairs, Rock Bison watching him curiously as he spoke on the phone.
Barnaby walked into Tiger's room. It was white and crisp and clean. It was an attractive room, but it looked a bit unlived in. Barnaby had a sinking feeling that Tiger spent most nights in the recliner in front of the TV. Barnaby skipped the bedroom; it seemed void of Tiger completely.
He walked into Tiger's bathroom and the scent was like Heaven. Barnaby stood, his hand pressed against the linen cupboard. The bathroom was clean but disorganized. There were hair ties, headbands, brushes, razors and lotions over every inch of the marble counter. Barnaby imagined Tiger in a ponytail and had to cover his smile with his hand.
Barnaby sat on the edge of the tub and didn't move. He looked around the bathroom, avoiding his reflection in the mirror. It was an odd feeling to be in such an intimate place without Tiger being there. His hand bumped against Tiger's toothbrush and Barnaby barely caught it before it slid down the tub wall. He placed it back in the soap dish and shook his head.
"Barnaby," Rock Bison said quietly, stepping into the bathroom. "The police are on their way. They asked us to stay outside until they arrive."
"That's a joke right?" Barnaby asked with a humorless laugh. "Do they think we need their protection?"
"No," Rock Bison sighed. "They don't want us tampering with a crime scene."
Tiger groaned as he gained consciousness. He wasn't in pain, not really, he just had a bad taste in his mouth and was probably suffering from a hangover. He sat up and looked around the small, dark room in confusion. He wasn't in his home. He wasn't back in Oriental Town. He blinked slowly, his hand scratching his lower stomach. He picked at the small scab forming and suddenly everything came together.
Tiger stood up, the metal bed frame scraping the concrete floor. He stumbled as something caught around his ankle, keeping him from moving forward. He looked down, staring at the chain in anger. Who the fuck would chain him to the bed? Who the fuck even thought a chain would keep Wild Tiger attached to a bed?
Tiger twisted, pushing against the cheap frame of the bed. He kicked with all of his strength, without using his Hundred Power, bending the frame a little more with each kick. The frame snapped and Tiger yanked on the broken piece, deciding it could be useful.
He walked over to the door, the chain dragging along behind him. He tried the knob, it was locked. Without a pause, he pushed the piece of broken frame into the jamb of the door. He pushed against the door with his knee, using the metal to stab through the door.
At last the door splintered open and Tiger climbed through, the chain dragging behind him noisily as he stepped into a narrow hallway. He looked around cautiously, passing several unmarked doors identical to the one he had broken through.
There was a strange flashing of light at the end of the hall, and what sounded like voices. Tiger approached slowly his back pressed against the wall. He peered around the corner, realizing immediately that the light and sound were coming from several large television screens. The televisions were each playing separate highlight reels from HeroTV. To the right were computer displays, and on every screen was Tiger himself at nearly every angle imaginable.
Tiger stepped into the dark room, his stomach twisting into nervous knots. Every inch of the wall was plastered with pictures. Barnaby in his suit. Barnaby at press conferences. Barnaby's publicity shoots. Barnaby's magazine spreads. Barnaby walking down the street. Barnaby eating at a café. Barnaby standing by the large windows of his second story. Barnaby sleeping.
"What the fuck…" Tiger hissed, realizing belatedly that his communicator was missing. He stepped closer to the wall, his hand trailing along the photos of himself. His eyes were gouged out of every single picture. Tiger swallowed uneasily and turned around, startled to discover a man sitting in a chair in the middle of the room.
"Wild Tiger." Richard Max wheezed, his voice muffled by the strange mask over his mouth. It looked more like a gasmask than anything and it gave Tiger the creeps. Richard gestured to a second chair beside his own. "Have a seat. Let's begin your interview."
Tiger shook his head and took a step back. "What do you want? What are you doing? Where are we?" Tiger's hands balled into angry fists. "How dare, How dare you go into Barnaby's house like that! Those pictures! It's disgusting!"
"Don't even speak his name!" Richard shouted, his voice nearly defeaning. The screens rolled white and the lights dimmed. His eyes flashed blue and Tiger cursed.
"You're a NEXT." Tiger realized.
"Yes. And I'm a better NEXT than you…" Richard muttered. "Yet you're the one! You're the one beside him!"
"This is about Barnaby?" Tiger asked. "You fucking shocked me and kidnapped me because I work with Barnaby?!"
"You're so fucking ungrateful." Richard snapped. "Barnaby Brooks Jr. is the best Hero. And he deserves the best sidekick!"
Tiger laughed nervously. Richard's voice held an unusual power. The volume was unbearable and made Tiger's head feel as if it might split open at any moment. "Barnaby and I both have the Hundred Power…" Tiger explained impatiently. "We were matched up because of that."
"I don't want to hear it!" Richard barked. "Sit down and let us start the interview!" The noise was agonizing. Tiger was forced down on his knees, his hands over his ears. Richard gestured once more to the empty chair and Tiger crawled forward, pulling himself into the chair uneasily. Richard smiled and pulled the video recorder from his lap, situating it on his shoulder.
"Okay, okay," Tiger said. "Let's do this interview."
"Why did you and Barnaby go out to dinner tonight, instead of coming to this interview?" Richard asked, aiming the recorder at Tiger.
"He told me he wanted to try an Asian restaurant." Tiger answered, his fingers clutching the arm of the chair.
"You didn't care that you'd be late? You don't care about being timely?" Richard yelled.
Tiger flinched in his chair, feeling as if he was being crushed every time Richard spoke. "I didn't think it would take that long… and then when I was leaving the station called. There was a NEXT attacking City Hall."
"He carried you from the restaurant." Richard breathed. "And then he kissed you."
"W-w-w-w-well," Tiger stammered.
"WHY DID HE FUCKING KISS YOU?" Richard demanded.
Tiger was knocked backward, the chair splintering. The screens in the room exploded, sparks flying and spiraling to the floor. An emergency light flickered before casting the room in a sickly green glow. Tiger glowered at the other man, wiping the blood from his nose and mouth. Tiger pressed his hands against his bleeding ears as he climbed to his feet. "Listen, you freak. I don't know what the fuck is going on in that sick fucking head of yours, but it's ending right now."
"You aren't in charge here." Richard stood up, charging toward Tiger.
Tiger's eyes flashed blue and he landed a direct hit. To his horror the attack seemed to have no effect on Richard. Richard grabbed Tiger's head in his large hands and opened his mouth in a scream.
The scream sent pure agony slicing through Tiger. The sound waves were so strong Tiger felt his heart skip a beat. He lost all ability to stand and was held up by Richard's cruel grip on his hair. Richard screamed again and the wall behind Tiger crumbled, the entire building shaking. Tiger gasped, unable to breathe, and then Richard tossed him, throwing him against the row of broken computer screens.
Tiger coughed, spitting blood into the air. He rolled off of the desk and landed on the concrete floor. He laid facedown for a few moments, trying to regain his breath. A photo fluttered down beside him and he picked it up, barely turning his head.
It was a photo taken a few weeks earlier. That day Barnaby and Tiger had stopped for lunch after a photoshoot. It was sunny and warm. They ate tacos in the park before the weather took a nasty turn. It started to rain heavily and they had to run for cover. The photo was blurred around the edges, clearly zoomed in. Tiger was looking down at his hands and Barnaby was staring at Tiger. Barnaby's smile was beautiful. It was a smile Tiger wasn't entirely sure he had ever seen. There was a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach as he realized that Barnaby was looking at him with that smile.
"Are you dead, Wild Tiger?" Richard asked. He extended his foot, attempting to kick Tiger.
Tiger grabbed Richard's foot, knocking him off of his feet. Richard collapsed onto the floor next to Tiger, his breath knocked out of him. Tiger rolled over, straddling Richard's waist. He lifted his elbow, punching Richard with as much force as he could muster. Richard could only cough and try to cover his face as Tiger delivered blow after blow.
"GET OFF OF ME!" Richard snarled, punching Tiger in the throat.
Tiger was knocked backward, crashing into a pile of broken glass. Tiger hissed, pulling a large shard from his palm and tossing it back on the floor. "You're a real pain, Richard Max."
"Not for much longer." Richard huffed, climbing to his feet. He looked at Tiger and shook his head. "Barnaby doesn't need two sidekicks."
"I won't let you near Bunny." Tiger exclaimed, stumbling as he pulled himself back on his feet. "If you like him so much…" Tiger groaned as he pulled glass from his thigh. "You should realize this will only hurt him. He doesn't need someone dangerous like you around him…"
"No. He doesn't need you!" Richard shouted the last word, the force of his voice shocking Tiger like an electrical current. Tiger's body shook and jerked and then he fell to the floor.
The power had been out for over two hours. Barnaby paced back in forth in his bedroom, his fingers constantly redialing Tiger's number. He growled in frustration as Tiger's voicemail message played and he cursed until the beep. "Hey, Tiger, it's me. I don't know where you are. I don't know if you left on your own. I don't know if you're safe…" Barnaby paused and inhaled sharply. "Please call me back. Even if you don't want to talk, just tell me I'm an asshole and you can hang up."
Barnaby pushed the phone into his pocket and sank onto the edge of his bed. He buried his head in his hands and muttered to himself. "Come on, Tiger. Please…"
Barnaby held his breath, the hair on the back of his neck raising. He stood, tiptoeing toward the hallway. He could swear that he heard his front door open. Barnaby hurried back toward his table and blew out the candles. He stopped at the landing of the stairs and peered into the darkness blindly. There was another sound, like shuffling paper and Barnaby froze in place. "Who's there?"
There was no response. Barnaby whipped his phone from his pocket and turned on the flashlight. He ran down the stairs, catching a glimpse of movement in the dining room. He ran around the table and, just as he realized the table was covered with photographs, Barnaby heard the front door click shut.
Barnaby dialed quickly, his fingers scrolling through his caller id sloppily. He pressed call and tapped his foot, looking around his house fearfully. "Keith…" Barnaby pressed his back against the wall of his dining room and sank down to the floor. "I need you to come to my house. Right now. No, I'm not okay… well.. No, I don't need an ambulance… I… I'm calling the police next… no, he's not here. Someone was in my house… I don't know… there's all these pictures… No, I don't know, yes… Just come… Thank you, Keith…"
Barnaby hung up and instead of calling the police he tried Tiger's number again. He pressed call and he held his phone in his hands nervously. The phone rang and then, in the kitchen on the counter, a phone lit up, playing Tiger's silly little ringtone.