FEH code - 5310827319

You couldn’t seem to shake the feeling that something would go wrong on this mission.

Something about it, maybe the way it was worded, or the timing, felt a little too convenient— hell, even the rest of the team seemed surprised. A mission that perfectly fit someone’s powers and abilities was rarer than you’d think, especially with a group like the Z-team, where everyone’s skills varied so wildly.

You didn’t know why you felt so antsy, opting to brush it off as a fluke. But your heart still raced in your chest, and to attempt to quell that anxious energy, you exhaled through your teeth, watching Chad as he flicked his fingers together in a motion similar to a lighter, as a small flame lit and vanished with the movement.

Walking along beside him, you raised an eyebrow, letting out a quiet chuckle.

“Planning on smoking?”

“Only if you brought anything.” He smirked.

“Not my fault you don’t have pockets in that suit.” You put your hands up, turning to face him, “Fashion statements aren’t always practical.”

“You fucking take that back.” He snapped, and you only laughed harder at that.

Over the comms, you heard Robert give out orders to your other teammates, and you moved to mute yourself for a moment.

“This feels weird.”

“What, the earpiece?” Flambae blinked, “They’re better than the last ones.”

“No, the job he gave us.” You replied, fidgeting with your costume, “Doesn’t it feel a little oddly specific?”

“Eh. These things happen.” He shrugged, brushing his ponytail back over his shoulder as he continued to walk, “It’ll be easy, in and out.”

“I guess.” You muttered in response, peering around the alleyway as you stopped on the sidewalk, turning your mic back on before asking Robert, “This is the place, yeah?”

“Yeah. Through there and to the left, the place is underground.”

“Weird.” You chewed on your bottom lip as you continued on, Flambae not close behind.

The two of you, cast into darkness as you passed between buildings, finally came across the door you’d been searching before, and your stomach twisted as you reached for the knob.

Flambae’s hand reached it before you did, however, as if sensing your nerves, and turned it with ease before pushing it open.

“After you.” He gestured towards the beckoning darkness, and you nodded in thanks, your jaw still set.

You took it step by step, trying to even out your breath as the sound of it echoed through the upcoming staircase.

Squinting, you grabbed the wall beside you, careful not to trip in the shadows, when the sight of a hand opening up in the corner of your eye made you jump.

“It’s just me, idiot.” He placed his hand on your shoulder, the other illuminating a small radius around you as a small fire bloomed from his palm.

The warmth of the digits on your shoulder seemed to ground you, and you nodded again, taking the last few steps before stopping.

“SDN!” You shouted, his voice amplified by the acoustics down there, “We’re here because of a call!”

“Fuckin’ creepy-ass basement.” He grumbled, swivelling to move his flame around as a torch, “Sounds cool, though.”

“Maybe we should’ve done karaoke here.” You joked, before stiffening at the sight of a silhouette in the near distance.

Flambae leaned over your shoulder, furrowing his eyebrows and squinting at them.

You swallowed, moving away from him to approach the figure.

“Are you the caller?”

They stepped into the light, only barely, their features lit at the very edges while casting the rest of their face into darkness.

They stared at you for a minute, before tilting their head.

“I am, yes.” They spoke slowly and clearly, “You must be one of the famed reformed villains I’ve been hearing so much about.”

“I— I am.” You confirmed, “Do I know you?”

“No. You don’t. But I know all about you.”

Your heart lurched in your chest, and you tried to take a step back, but you seemed to hit a wall. When had you been so close to a wall?

“Don’t try running.” They stepped closer, and you saw the flame beside you brighten.

Flambae, to your right, was already struggling, tugging at the bindings to no avail.

“You let him go.” You snapped, “Whatever creepy vendetta you have against us, you take it out on me.”

“Your friend here is safe.” They let out a breathy huff, “You’re the one I’m looking for.”

You felt ropes snaking their way up your legs, slithering further up your calves and circling around your knees and wrists to hold you in place.

They spoke your name— the real one, not the superhero persona you kept up like the rest of your team, and their hand moved to grip your chin, tilting your head in time with theirs.

“You parade yourself around like you’re some miracle. Like you are the proof that human beings are inherently good. Like some saviour.” They whispered, their breath fanning out from your ear, letting goosebumps rise on the back of your neck, “But I know who you truly are.”

With a flick of their wrist, the cables rose to slide across your throat, before tightening around your neck entirely.

You jolted, your lungs aching for air as you spasmed against the restraints.

“You are a murderer. A criminal and an unredeemable evil. You’re a plague on this world.” They hissed into your face, “You took the wrong life— my brother’s life. Three years ago. And now I want an exchange.”

The serpentine cord crushing your windpipe tightened further, and you felt the room spin as they continued to speak, like it mattered more than anything else in the world.

“A life for a life. And then we’re even.” They held up their palms, before their hands moved to grab a broken piece of metal from beside them.

It was tinged orange with rust, the edges razor-sharp, like it had been ripped from a structure and perfected.

“Fucker! Let me out! Don’t you fucking—“ Flambae growled, and you could faintly hear the struggle as the rope around your neck loosened only slightly.

Your eyes, dazed and slow with your fading consciousness, watched as they gripped the makeshift weapon almost lovingly.

You hung there as they stepped closer, face inches from your own, as they whispered something you couldn’t quite make out, before white-hot pain seemed to rip through your insides, as the sound of tearing flesh filled your ears, followed by the man beside you screaming and cursing.

The neck restraints let up, and you felt yourself crumple to the floor, feeling the metal be yanked out of your body with a sickening squelch. You lay there gasping, overwhelming waves of agony surging through you with every heartbeat.

You couldn’t move, and your lips couldn’t find the shapes of the words on the tip of your tongue, as your head lolled to the side, seeing Flambae fall to his knees when untied.

He scrambled towards you, and you swore you saw panic in his ever-so-cocky eyes.

“Fuck— you—“ His voice sounded like you were underwater, hearing him from below the surface, as the searing torment overwhelmed your senses.

You saw, out of a blurry, throbbing haze, his hands moving shakily and frantically against your wound as your body slowly stained with the colour of your own life force.

“Stay awake, eyes open—“ He insisted, seeing your eyelids start to flicker shut, “Damn it—“

One of his hands pressed into the entry wound, ripping a suffocated gasp out from your lungs, which made him seem like he was about to break down, himself.

His eyes watered and his chest rose and fell quicker than you’d ever seen it before, and you swore you saw his shoulders shaking with what seemed like hidden sobs as he kept muttering to you, another hand moving to press against the hole in your abdomen as he screamed at your dispatcher through his earpiece.

“SEND SOMEONE!” He shouted, “You— you can’t just— fucking— call medical!”

You felt your lashes grow heavy again, and a strange buzzing sensation overcame the pain. It almost felt like you felt like you were floating, in a strange way.

His eyes changed when he saw you slowly starting to lose consciousness, and you watched as he quickly maneuvered himself closer to your face, yelling and shaking you to try and keep your eyes open.

The last thing you saw before your vision went dark was his forehead pressed against yours.

A faint, steady beep was the first thing that you heard.

That, followed by snoring.

Your whole body felt limp, like you’d been boiled, and a faint ache quickly set in, as you tried to pry your eyes open.

The lights above were dimmed, but still too bright, and you let out a croaky wince as the fluorescent white bar above you flooded your exhausted vision.

It took a fair amount of effort to turn your head, but the sight of a certain someone had you letting out a soft hum. Although, whether it was of affection or not, you weren’t quite sure.

This wasn’t Flambae. Not the Flambae the public got. This was Chad, the one that you knew was yours, dressed in a baggy sweatshirt with his suit still under it, hair down and messy around his shoulders.

Chad, who, at the sound of your hum, shot upwards, eyes wide.

The two of you stared at each other for a moment, before he buried his face in his hands.

“Fuck.” He whispered.

“Do I look that bad?” You rasped, with a grin.

“No, idiot, you look fucking hot.” He snapped, “But you fucking died.”

“I’m alive.”

“Barely!” He scoffed, “You had, like— three broken ribs. And lost so much goddamn blood. I can’t get the stains out.”

“Glad to see you’ve got your priorities straight.” You grimaced, shifting to sit up, but he quickly rushed to hold you back down by the shoulders.

“You’re not going any-fucking-where. Asshole.” He seemed to deflate a little, “You scared me.”

“…yeah.” You exhaled, “Wait, what happened to the—“

“The others tracked them down.”

“Jesus, how long was I out?” You blinked, and furrowed your brow when you saw him look away.

You were tempted to try and sit up again, but you knew hospital painkillers would only take you so far.

“Chad.” You spoke sternly, “How long was I out?”

“Three days, give or take.” He admitted, “You were in and out a lot, I doubt you remember.”

“And you’ve been… here?” Your voice felt quieter than before, like the very notion that he’d stayed that long had stunned you into near silence, “For three days?”

“Yeah.” He snorted, “Are you kidding me? I was there the whole time. Looked at your stitches and everything.”

You watched him for a moment, seeing the exhaustion peek through that cocky exterior. You saw the man you loved, but something about it felt flat. Like he was trying and failing to be himself.

“You… you really did scare me.” He admitted, softer than before, leaning forward as his hair fell off of his shoulders, “I thought you died. You pretty much did, actually, and…”

Chad trailed off, and he instead slipped one of his hands into yours. You noted that it was the one missing fingers, although it could have just been how tired the both of you were.

“I’m not dead.” You mumbled, and you saw a smile try and work its way onto his lips.

Covered in dust and debris, you stepped through the doors of your local SDN branch once more, after another mission well done.

Somehow, you’d been on a roll these past few days. You’d prevented injuries in your teammates and yourself, kicked ass nonstop, and all you wanted to do now was be around your husband.

You and Chad’s marriage hadn’t been a public one— both of you agreed, despite his showboating tendencies, that keeping it to yourselves with a small ceremony, involving a close friend and maybe a few family members, was the safer choice.

After all, the less dirt villains had on you, the better. At least, that was your reasoning. You were somewhat sure that Chad just agreed because he was itching to sign the papers, but a promise was a promise.

As you stepped into the elevator, brushing a pile of concrete powder off of the shoulder of your suit, you hummed along with the faint, low-quality bossa nova that always played over the ancient speakers. Absolutely nothing could kill your mood.

When the metal box rose enough for you to stride into the bullpen, surrounded by desks and cubicles, you made a beeline for the break room, spying the rest of your teammates all arguing about something while scarfing down their respective meals. You checked your watch, seeing the time. Thankfully, that last dispatch hadn’t taken you over into your lunch break.

With a competence that you felt only came with experience, you wove through clump after clump of desks, dodging moving chairs and coffee runs like it was some extra-credit obstacle course.

As you reached the shuttered break room doors, you heard the din of a stupid yelling match through the glass, recognizing the aggravated voices of Colm and Flambae as Sonar continued to spew the stupidest references he could think of, in his usual game of which teammate he could ragebait the hardest.

You snuck past the entrance, making a beeline for the fridge as you dug through the fridge for the leftovers Chad had brought in for the two of you.

Dumping out the contents of the tupperware onto a plate and sticking it in the microwave to be ignored until it was at a consumable temperature, you leaned against the countertop to tune in properly to the argument. Even after so much time together, you found Chad was unintentionally at his funniest when he was completely pissed off.

“Okay, but hear me out on this—“ Sonar held out his hands, looking like he was about to share the secrets to the universe itself, when he was interrupted by a grape, plucked from the abandoned fruit arrangement in the middle of the table, hitting him square in the forehead.

“Fucking shut up!” Flambae exclaimed, arm still extended from the expertly tossed fruit.

“Yer' makin’ no sense, lad! Ya’ sound concussed!” Colm added, “Who the fuck are ya’ talkin’ about?”

Sonar opened his snout to speak again, about to spit out some other jumbled nonsense, when another grape struck him, this time on the tip of his nose.

“What the fuck? I’m speaking my truth.” He huffed, sitting back in his chair and taking an angry bite out of his sandwich.

The shrill beep of the microwave went off, and you removed your meal, moving to flop down next to Flambae before quickly sneaking a kiss to his cheek, as you made sure the rest of the team was looking Sonar’s way instead of yours.

He smiled, elbowing you before stealing a small piece of vegetable off of your plate, flinging it at the half-bat as he begun his tirade once again.

It bounced off of his eyebrow, making you snicker behind your balled up hand, as Flambae pumped his fist in victory.

“Okay, asshole, let’s talk about something else, then.” Sonar sassed, leaning forward from where he sat, “What’s with you two kissing each other on the cheek, sharing lunches, all that shit?”

You watched your husband as he bit back a smirk, seeing the cogs turn as he decided to play dumb.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re romantic with each other, not just in a friendly bros kind of way.” Sonar scoffed, “And you do it a lot.”

“I’d hope so,” You raised your eyebrows, “We’ve been married for two years.”

The room fell into completely stunned silence for a moment, as if someone had hit ‘pause’ on the whole situation, before your teammates erupted into a mishmash of shocked yelling, questions that were way too personal to answer on the clock, and scattered insults that you knew were affectionate.

Everyone seemed to be speaking simultaneously at that moment. Everyone, of course, except Prism, who had her camera on with a sly grin spread across her teal lips.

Sonar, noting her lack of outrage, swivelled his head towards her with an interrogative pinch in his brows.

“Wait, why aren’t you freaking out?”

“I was there, bitch!” She laughed, “I helped Mr. Tooth-gap over there pick out a suit that didn’t make him look stupid.”

“Fuck you!” Flambae called out, although you saw the smile in his eyes.

“You didn’t tell us you two were married, though!” Malevola chimed in, sounding equally outraged, “We’re, like— your fucking family!”