Alfred F. Jones had a mediocre life. Not that he hated it, but as a child he dreamed of grandiose adventures and now being in his early 20s, reality had caught up with him. He shared an apartment with his twin brother and worked part-time at a supermarket on the same block. Every other night he was out and about enjoying the best the busy city had to offer like many others his age living like they'd be young forever. Like he said, mediocre. He was content.

The highlight of his life was waking up in the morning, strangely enough. For the past year or so he'd actually adhere to the purpose of his alarm instead of the extremely tempting snooze button. He'd roll out of bed and the moment his eyes adjusted to the light he was staring at his phone screen searching for the news of last night's events. News stations, online forums and social media were all talking about the same thing. Reporting on a spirit of the night. An urban shadow. A ghostly knight of karma. Vendetta, AKA the vigilante crusading against crime that appeared a little over a year ago and captured the attention and hearts of the city.

Vendetta wasn't active every night, and wasn't always caught on camera, and even then the footage wasn't always great, but whenever the public caught just a glimpse of the vigilante, that was enough fuel to keep the hungry hoards fed for another week. Alfred would always excitedly switch on the TV and scroll through dedicated forums first thing in the morning with the hope that Vendetta had made another appearance. By now it was a ritual, Alfred had been watching his every move since his debut. Vendetta had gone fully Die Hard on a gas service station hostage situation and when the media got their hands on the shitty security camera footage everyone lost their minds to discover that it wasn't the police who had saved the day. Not that anyone was surprised. The footage was uncovered because witnesses kept talking about a masked figure, intriguing the public and the media smelt a story.

Vendetta had changed a bit since the debut, though it was debated if the debut was even his first time on the streets or just when he got noticed. Alfred was a fan of the theory that it had been longer, but that was irrelevant. The core elements of his outfit stayed the same, always wearing black clothes, a balaclava and a ski mask combo to conceal his identity. At some point he used a stick-like object, something like a golf club or hockey stick but far too thin to be a baseball bat, which would've been Alfred's go-to. But it was hard to tell from what little camera footage was available at the time and Vendetta hadn't been seen with it much since. While his outfit was originally fashioned with garments that could be found in most homes, Vendetta had since acquired Kevlar and a bulletproof vest, knives, and brass knuckles among other not-so-amateur weapons. He wasn't playing around. Alfred was seriously impressed by the dedication.

So far Vendetta had been going a year strong, outsmarting and outmaneuvering police and bad guys at every turn. He was hardly super aggressive and confrontational in his fight style, or at least when it came to big groups... though he had his moments. Those made for awesome edits online that Alfred never grew tired of. The guy knew how to fight and he fought hard. He was just so badass! He was a master at sneaking around and getting the drop on his opponents. The guy was smart and knew what he was doing. It was inconceivable that any day -erm, night could be Vendetta's last. Especially when he'd done so much for the city. Since his debut, the crime rate had lowered quite significantly and gang activity quietened, a fact that was always thrown into debates about Vendetta's alleged crime of just existing. As a superhero fanatic, Alfred was 100% on board for Vendetta being an awesome keeper of justice that the police just couldn't achieve.

It was a bummer his twin didn't share the same excitement for the vigilante. Matthew, for whatever reason, preferred to sleep in rather than froth over the morning news of whatever heroic feat the vigilante did last night. Alfred couldn't say he didn't understand. He too, used to be one with the night and enjoy sleeping in late until he was no longer classed as a functioning member of society.

If Matthew did join, it was at Alfred's repeated insistence and wouldn't hold back his criticisms about the guy. Not for what he was doing, at least. Alfred was so glad that his brother at least admitted Vendetta was doing good. But whenever Matthew saw footage of the guy he'd point out where he went wrong and comment that the guy was sloppy. Apparently, Vendetta isn't doing a good job if he was caught on camera and not instantly taking bad guys down. Matthew had been playing sports his entire life so of course, being athletically inclined he could point out all of Vendetta's flaws like an angry fan at a game. At some point, Alfred just tuned him out and kept his attention firmly focused on whatever news came out about the night before.

So that was Alfred's life. Obsessing over a real-life hero and compulsively engaging with everything he could relate to Vendetta. Oh well, there were worse celebrities to worship.

It was a night like any other when Alfred heard a suspicious thump coming from the living room, too loud to play off as anything innocent. Suspicious because neither he nor Matthew caused the sound and alarm bells were going off in his head. Alfred wasn't even meant to be awake, he just happened to be unable to sleep and was staring at the ceiling. But thank goodness for his random bout of insomnia because now he could investigate whatever the hell was responsible for that sound at 2 in the morning. He scrambled for his glasses and crept from his room armed only with a wooden chair as a makeshift weapon. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the city lights outside the open window, a window that was certainly not open before.

As the clumpy shadows that made the living room slowly morphed into defined objects, he could make out a dark figure lying on the ground, breathing heavily but not moving. Something nagged inside him as Alfred realised the situation wasn't what it appeared at surface level. Usually a dark figure entering a residence through a window under the cover of night meant a robber or worse, but what kind of robber or murderer broke in just to lie on the ground?

Figuring the guy wouldn't be going anywhere anytime soon, Alfred quickly lunged for the light switch and readied his distance enforcement weapon for combat. Combat that didn't come. Instead, Alfred fumbled with the chair as he recognised the man on the ground. It took a second for his brain to realise, yep, this was real, but there was no mistaking his hero. It was Vendetta! The vigilante Vendetta! And he was clutching at his side. His dark clothes looked wet and the floor was turning red-

"Shit."

His mouth said before his brain could catch up.

"Shit." He ditched the chair to the side and dropped to his knees as he looked over the object of his heroic fixation. He had a lot of questions, most of them being the regular fan ones, some that were heavily debated online, and some of them were immediately relevant. Like, why are you here? In this apartment out of any others? What happened? And, most pressing, are you gonna be okay?

"Shit," he said for lack of anything better to say. His unsure hands frantically waved over the body before him but never touched out of fear of making it worse. Dammit, he needed to stop panicking. What should he do? He didn't know what to do!

Vendetta, as if only just noticing the lights and his company, lifted his arm to cover his eyes.

"Shit."

Alfred knew it wasn't him who said it this time because he was biting his tongue and the voice was far too quiet, strained and croaky to be his. However, it was exactly what he needed to snap him into action. It was his time to be a hero! He knew they had some medical supplies, Matthew insisted they stock up after he took a first aid course which, thank fuck because Alfred didn't know what he was doing!

"Mattie!" He bolted up to get his brother only for something to snag his ankle. He barely stopped himself from hitting the corner of the coffee table and smashing his glasses as he roughly fell onto weak wrists. He rolled onto his elbows and tugged on his ankle, but the hand just tightened. Alfred was about to ask Vendetta what the hell he was doing, Alfred was trying to help him! But instead, harsh wheezing filled the quiet room. It was like Vendetta wanted to say something but couldn't get past the strained coughs as his body shuddered from the effort and struggled to breathe through the involuntary movement. Distantly, Alfred knew that because his breathing wasn't wet, he wasn't about to die. But the sheer raw vulnerability of the gritty display was too distressing for him to be comforted by trivial information.

It only fueled his determination. He needed to get Matthew and the two of them could patch up Vendetta before he bled out and the city was without a hero. That scary thought was all he needed for him to ruthlessly rip his leg back and out of reach. He leapt off the floor and slammed into his brother's door, twisting the handle at the same time as his shoulder roughly collided with it to shove it open quicker.

"Mattie!" He shouted as he darted for the bed, only to trip onto the soft surface as he stopped himself short. The bed was empty. Why was the bed empty? The room was empty. Where the hell was Matthew?

He recalled his brother going to bed, wishing him goodnight as he quietly shut the door. Of course Alfred didn't think Matthew would be anywhere else! It didn't sound like his twin to go out partying or something. And even if he did he didn't need to sneak! Why would he need to sneak out?

Shit, he didn't know where Matthew was but he needed him. Alfred patted himself down for his phone. He'd call Matthew and get him to come back ASAP. He had tunnel vision when his other shoulder hit the door frame as he dashed back through the lounge and into his room. His phone, where was his phone? Right there, still on his pillow. He snatched it up and fumbled to unlock it, his fingers felt numb against the cool surface. His hands shook as it dialled and he heard Matthew's ringtone. Alfred dropped his phone and raced towards the sound. He stumbled to a stop in Matthew's door frame. His room was still dark, but a rectangular glow lit up the far corner. Alfred's stomach dropped and his trembling hands clutched at the door frame. He didn't know where his brother was and his phone was still left on charge. Shit. His need for his brother was suddenly overshadowed by his worry for his brother. Where the hell was Matthew? Was he okay?-

Shit. A thump in the living room reminded him he needed to prioritise. Vendetta was still bleeding out! Alfred would have to do the best he could to help Vendetta and hope Matthew was alright and he could fix Alfred's terrible attempt at medical assistance later. Yeah, that sounded like a plan.

He ran into the bathroom, flicking the light and ripping every cupboard door open to find anything that vaguely looked like it could be medical supplies. He juggled everything in his arms and left everything a mess as he rushed back into the living room and-

"Shit." He lost his footing and crashed right next to his brother. Matthew's unfocused eyes stared lazily at him from the floor.

"I'm so sorry Alfred," he rasped as he forced his words out. The vigilante mask was held tightly with the hand not pressing against his side. "Just leave that there, I can deal with this myself."

Alfred's breathing was starting to match that of Vendetta's. His brother's.

"Mattie, what the fuck," he croaked as he stared.

"I'm sorry, I promise I'll tell you everything later." Matthew whimpered as he pushed himself into a sitting position, despite the literal gushing wound on his side! What the fuck! "Just go to bed, I can handle this."

"No! Mattie, you're Vendetta?! Mattie," Alfred's thoughts were in pieces as he gathered the bandages and shoved the rest into a pile. "Mattie I need to help you. I can't let you do this alone. Just tell me what to do. Please!"

Matthew was going to respond, but to Alfred's panic and increasing horror, he broke into a wheezing fit and uncontrollably jerked. Alfred swore again, pushed his stubborn brother back down and tried to maneuver him out of his clothes. Thankfully Matthew cooperated to remove the bulletproof vest which was thankfully easy to take off. Because Matthew had a bulletproof vest. The very vest was invented to stop bullets! Why would Matthew need to wear that? Were people shooting at him? Shit, yes they were and he watched videos of it thinking it was so cool!

Alfred ignored his flurry of thoughts that kept adding to his worries with each new idea and pushed the vest to the side before turning to the drenched garment that was Matthew's shirt, its dark colour failing to hide that it was soaked in blood. It made him feel sick. Matthew hissed and his face contorted in pain as Alfred reached to grab it. Alfred pulled his hands back and was about to argue that it had to come off when Matthew handed him a knife. A sharp fucking knife.

"Cut it off." He strained and reluctantly removed the blood-smeared hand pressing against his side. Alfred grabbed the knife, his fingers straining as he held it awkwardly and tightly as he used his other hand to pull at the shirt. It felt like he was trying to puppet his body with strings as his body froze up and worked against him. Luckily it didn't take long to get the shirt off... but now he could see how bad the cut was. On his right side, just before his ribs ended was a valley of red. It was a long, deep cut. Alfred swallowed back bile when he saw yellow fat on the inside-

"Doesn't that hurt Mattie?" Alfred squeaked as Matthew used the shirt to put pressure on it. His eyes were screwed shut but he nodded, every so slightly as his mouth pressed together tightly.

"Mattie," he said hesitantly as his shaking hands pressed down to help keep pressure. He was no doctor, but his brother had lost a lot of blood and the cut was really fucking deep. "I don't think we can fix this."

"No hospitals," Matthew ground out as he squeezed his eyes shut and dug the back of his head into the floorboards.

"But what about lifelong damage!"

"What about a lifelong sentence! I can't help people from jail!" Matthew snapped, uncharacteristically sharp and Alfred shrunk back. Sure, that was true, but if it healed wrong then his brother would be fucked up for the rest of his life!

Somehow reading his mind, Matthew met Alfred's eyes.

"I have underground contacts, I'll be fine."

Alfred nodded, choosing to believe that. Cool, Matthew had underground friends who could help him and not Alfred. He supposed at least they would be qualified. But why did Matthew come here first then?

"Alfred," Matthew grit and all of Alfred's attention was on that soft yet desperate voice. "Under my bed, get the green box."

Alfred shot up and darted for Matthew's room, quickly locating the box and returning before anything could happen to his brother. He flipped it open to see all sorts of things. Medical supplies that were too suspicious to put in the shared bathroom, like pills and... medical sewing supplies. Alfred's mouth went dry.

Matthew clumsily transferred the ruined shirt to be pressed with one hand as he grabbed a bottle of pills with the other. He held it up to his face, eyes squinting as he read the label because where the hell were his glasses? Certainly not on his face! Alfred really hoped Matthew wasn't running around without any visual aids! Alfred forgot about Matthew's shitty eyesight when his brother, apparently content he had the right bottle, popped it open and swallowed a bunch of pills dry. Alfred made a strangled sound, a sound that was meant to be some words of concern but he didn't know what to say.

"For the pain," Matthew breathed, meeting his eyes as he tossed the bottle back in. "I'm going to have to stitch it shut."

Alfred could only sit there and make a noise of shocked disapproval as Matthew was pulling things out of the box.

"You're going to-?" He cut himself off as he shuddered and pressed a hand against his mouth. He always thought Vendetta was super cool and loved watching all the daring footage of him he could find, but now he was wondering just how many times Matthew patched himself up after? All alone while Alfred was sleeping obliviously in the room next to him. And Matthew was planning on doing it again tonight.

"I can." Alfred voiced as he snatched a cloth soaked in whatever stuff Matthew clumsily poured on it and after a brief glance, Matthew hesitantly nodded and held the shirt away from the cut. Very lightly, Alfred dabbed the cloth down and tensed his jaw as he brushed the aggravated skin.

"You can be harder," Matthew whimpered, "It's already clotting-"

He breathed out and shut his eyes and Alfred could see that it wasn't bleeding so profusely. A lethargic stream of thick blood oozed to the floor, but he could also see how pale his twin was and how much blood he already lost. Despite his mind screaming at him not to, Alfred pushed the cloth down and rubbed along the wound. When he was done the once white cloth was coated in wet red and dark flaky brown. Matthew was readying the needle and his wobbly hand brought it down to the cut.

"What are you doing?" Alfred shrieked and grabbed it off him, almost knocking the thread from the loop with his haste. "You can't do it!"

Matthew was shaking too much, but Alfred realised his own hand wasn't any better and forced himself to be steady. His brother needed him. Right now he needed to put on his best face and make sure everything is okay. Matthew grunted like he was going to resist before going lax.

"I can do it, but it's probably better if you do. You can't feel the pain, so just ignore me and get it done." He grabbed a spare towel from the box. "Don't stop." He requested before jamming the towel between his teeth. Alfred's breathing picked up when he was confronted with what he had to do.

"Don't you have numbing cream?" He choked as he desperately dug through Matthew's stash. He turned to the loot from the bathroom and breathed a sigh of relief when he found a tube. He emptied half the tube and slathered it thickly around the cut. Hopefully, the more cream meant the more it worked. He could tell Matthew was getting angsty at having to wait so long and quickly finished before reluctantly readying the needle. He bit his lip as he pushed it in and threaded it. He nervously looked at his twin to see him rigid as a board as he pressed his head back into the floor and his breathing picked up. Alfred sucked in a deep breath and carefully kept working. Fuck, it was so morbid the way the flesh pulled together. In and out, he pulled the skin together as neatly as he could and finished quickly.

"Now what?" He hastily asked as he dumped the needle.

"Glue," Matthew grunted as he removed the towel from his teeth. Alfred quickly located the glue and heavily applied it between the raw stitches. He just finished when Matthew was handing him something else. Alfred took the cloth and cleaned the area while Matthew rifled for something else and handed him some butterfly stitches.

"Is this going to be enough?" Alfred was aware his volume was too loud but couldn't get himself to quieten.

"It'll do," came his twin's contrasting voice, straining to be heard as it gave into exhaustion. "Have to keep it closed."

Alfred said nothing as he urgently applied them and Matthew passed him a roll of bandages, a cloth and some clips.

"Keep the cloth here-" he explained as he pressed it against his side. "Wrap the bandages around as tightly as you can."

Alfred couldn't think of a worse idea than moving Matthew but his brother was already reaching for the couch and grabbing the pillows off them.

"What are you doing?!" Alfred pushed his brother back down and confiscated the pillows.

"Trying to help," Matthew grit out and tried to grab the pillow back before giving up. "Put it under me."

Alfred carefully slid them under Matthew's head and back, grimacing every time he jostled his brother and caused him to wince. The bandages were soft and he didn't stop until the whole roll was around his twin's torso. He had concerns about how Matthew was going to breathe, but every time the bandages weren't tight enough Matthew would insist he pull them tighter. Alfred used the clips to fix them in place before slowly sitting back and looking at his brother. He swallowed thickly and opened his mouth to demand answers-

"Tomorrow," Matthew breathed and sluggishly slumped his arm over his eyes. "I'm so tired."

"You can't sleep!" Suddenly Alfred's heartbeat was in his ears and he was ready to shake his brother awake. Was it too late? Was Matthew going to die! Where's his phone! Alfred would rather his brother be in jail than dead!

"That's hypothermia, Alfred." Matthew drawled, his words just as sluggish as he was. "I'm so sorry."

"Yeah, you should be." Was Alfred's instinctive response, something he'd say in a normal context but felt strange to say now. Even though the wound was taken care of, for the moment at least, Alfred couldn't ignore the worry eating away at his insides. For the past however how long, completely unknown to him, his twin had been going out and doing all these dangerous things and could've died. Alfred forced himself to calm down.

"You'll be telling me everything tomorrow." He remarked as he packed up the medical supplies. "Uh, should I move you?"

Matthew let out a groan that indicated 'no' as his breathing evened out and his head rolled back.

Alfred's body refused to cooperate as he cleaned up the scene. He used the discarded shirt to mop up slick blood and scrubbed his hands in the bathroom and watched it go down the drain. Matthew's medical stash felt really heavy - or Alfred was really weak as he slowly put it on the coffee table with the rest of the medical stuff. He paced the living room and shut the window, and then the blinds because shit, if Matthew was Vendetta and someone did this to him then he can't let them finish his twin off. He didn't want to leave Matthew, but he couldn't move him either. So Alfred grabbed his pillow and bedsheets, brought them into the living room and set up a makeshift bed next to his sleeping brother. He slowly lowered himself beside him to not disturb him and rubbed his own tired face raw with his shaky hands as he took off his glasses.

Actually, he was glad his twin could fall asleep so quickly, even if Alfred would be kept awake all night. That slash looked like it was agonising. At least by being next to him all night he could make sure he was still breathing.

He carefully spread the thick covers over the two of them and laid back, his thoughts swirling violently in his brain as he forced his body to go still. Paranoia, curiosity and apprehension kept him awake on the hard cool floor. Morning couldn't come soon enough. He needed to know why his twin did this, and why he kept it from him.