Keith had walked only for two minutes towards the direction of his apartment when it happened. Two large sets of hands were on his shoulders, and he was shoved behind a local flower shop where the lights were few and no witnesses were around.
Keith watched, unimpressed, as two burly men demanded for his wallet, which, by the way, was empty because Pidge had been a little shit that day and stole all the tips.
It's a shame. If this had been two years ago, or if they were some guys that could actually be dangerous, then Keith of course would be tense and ready to lash. But these two were just ordinary thugs - nothing Keith's civilian form can't handle.
He stops the tips of his hair from flaring out when one tries to grab him greedily, instead missing. The familiar fire within him was starting to grow, but he dampened it, ignoring the flames pulsing through his veins and demanding to be let loose and free.
Three beats of silence passed. Then they lunged.
Keith, even before becoming Red Comet, had always been a good fighter. He was handy with moving with his instincts and reacting quickly, so in less than twenty seconds, one man was already down and knocked out from a brutal punch in the nose.
Keith stood, knees bent and his feet slightly bouncing to keep him mobile as he scrutinized the second man. He was bigger than his friend, uglier, and was now starting to take something out of his back pocket.
Keith tensed when he caught sight of the glinting knife. The blade was wicked sharp and just one slip up could end in some serious injury. While Keith would love nothing more than to summon his inner fire to his hands and show this bastard who not to mess with, Keith wasn't stupid.
This man, how idiotic he may be, was still a person with memories. How would Keith be able to handle it if this moron blabbed about the strange black haired boy who could create fire from nothing? The connection would immediately be made, the media would be in a frenzy - and everyone around him would be in danger.
Just the thought of Shiro or Pidge or even - blue eyes, bright grin, warm laughter - being hurt because of him made Keith's chest tighten and the breath in his throat catch. No. Using his powers and exposing himself was absolutely not an option.
He just needed to be careful, he thought, eyeing the blade. The man - Keith wrinkled his nose slightly when he smelled the recognizable stench of intoxication in his breath - swiped, and Keith dodged, brows furrowed deeply as he tried to figure out a way to disarm the drunk without hurting himself.
He took a breath, shoulders tense and legs ready to pounce, before a yell caused both of them to fumble.
The air was getting colder, too cold and too fast for it to be normal. Keith, unaffected by the chill, watched as the man in front of him started to shiver. The knife he held was shaking slightly from his hand, and he grunted before suddenly throwing the knife in Keith's direction.
Keith screamed.
But it wasn't because he had gotten hurt - in fact, the knife never got within an inch of him, because currently it was buried into the shoulder of a hero who had jumped in front of him.
"Fuck," Bluestar spat, and blood was starting to trickle down his suit, staining the dark blue. He gritted his teeth, and completely ignoring his injury, Blue took in a deep breath before letting it whoosh out in a great flow of freezing wind.
The man immediately froze, just enough to render him motionless.
Bluestar panted, swaying slightly in his spot as he clutched a shaking hand towards the knife still deeply in his shoulder.
"Your shoulder!" Keith cried out, brows furrowed as he rushed forward and inspected the damage. Stupid Blue, he thought in his head. The dumb boy acting like some knight, what was he thinking? Now he was hurt! As much as it pained him to admit it, Keith could feel the sickening bubble of undeniable worry clog his stomach.
"Come on," he said, more calmly this time. "I can patch you up but - "
Bluestar, merely sending him a tired grin, rolled his eyes into the back of his head before collapsing.
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