#lostinthewiind

"You did what?" You shook your head. "No, no. It was supposed to be Visi who got cut."

"Her last dispatch put her higher on the leaderboard," Robert explained. "It was between Sonar and Coupe. I had to make a decision."

You furrowed your brows. "What the fuck, Robert? Sonar needs this program; without it, he'll ... he'll ..."

"Go off the deep end?" Robert guessed. "Yeah, I see that now. Which is why I need you to go and talk him down. The two of you are friends, right? He'll listen to you."

"He'll only listen to me if I have something worth listening to," you said, dropping your bag onto the bench beside you. "Don't cut him, Robert. Let me tell him it was all a big mistake. The team needs him. He needs the team."

Robert hung his head, a physical representation of his regret. No, not his regret—if he regretted it, he'd be asking you to go and get Sonar back, not go and soothe his pain. It wasn't regret you were seeing, it was shame. Robert was ashamed of the actions that had resulted from the decision he had made.

"Fine," you agreed. "I'll go find him, but no promises. I'm known for many things, but pep talks aren't exactly my strong suit. That's more your thing, actually."

"Yeah, I doubt he wants to see me right now." Robert scratched the back of his neck. "Just get him to stop scaring people. We've already received multiple calls from the public and it's only a matter of time before we have to dispatch someone to handle the situation less peacefully."

"I'll do my best," you said. "Wish me luck."

"Good luck."

It took about an hour to track Sonar down. After reaching downtown just as the sun was setting, you followed the trail of his destruction—broken store windows, downed lamp posts, cars with caved-in roofs and alarms blaring, scared citizens standing in the streets on the phone with the police and SDN—and eventually arrived to an abandoned warehouse near the docks.

Entering the decrepit building, you stepped over scattered debris and ventured further into the shadows. In the distance, you could hear faint banging and the sound of metal scraping against metal. "Sonar?" you called out. "You in here?"

No response came.

Fishing your phone out of your back pocket, you turned on the flashlight to illuminate your path. The deeper into the warehouse you went, the more the eerie ambiance of the place freaked you out. Of course Sonar couldn't have picked somewhere nicer and more well lit to have his little meltdown.

"Sonar?" you shouted into the darkness once more, your voice echoing around the vast, dilapidated building, bouncing off the walls before fading into nothingness.

Eventually, you made your way to the back of the warehouse, where a large garage door opened up toward the docks. In the distance, the sound of the lapping water was periodically interrupted by the screeching of a half-bat man as he clawed at a pile of wooden pallets, tearing off chunks of wood and sending it splintering along the floor around him.

You had seen Sonar in his hybrid form on many occasions, but for some reason, this time felt different. Before, you had always known the giant bat was on your side. This time, it felt like entering the lair of a wild beast, unsure if it would attack at first sight or not.

Sonar let out another angry screech—the sound loud enough to make you want to cover your ears—as he ripped a plank of wood from the pallet before him and sent it flying toward you. Jumping out of the way just in time, you crashed into a rusty metal shelving unit. The metallic sound bounced throughout the warehouse, just like your voice had, and Sonar's ears perked in your direction.

Wide red eyes settled on you and the destruction ceased. He took one step toward you and then another, his huge chest rising and falling with each breath he drew in.

"Hey, buddy." You stepped closer as well, slowly closing the distance between the two of you. "You done throwing a temper tantrum?"

His crimson eyes narrowed and he bared his sharp teeth, an act that you were sure would be more terrifying if you didn't know the hurting man hiding beneath the beast so well.

"Fuck you." His tone was low and gravelly, an octave or two difference from his regular speaking voice.

You settled your hands on your hips and cocked your head. "I saw what you did out there. Kids are crying in the streets, Victor. You're scaring people."

"Good!" he growled. "If I can't be a hero, I might as well go back to being a villain. I refuse to be left to mediocrity. I'm better than that."

You shook your head, hair falling down around your eyes slightly. You pushed the strands back behind your ear and remembered a time when Sonar had been the one to push your hair out of your face, living proof that there was a gentle side to him.

"All of this because you got cut from the Z-Team?" you questioned. "I know it meant a lot to you, but-"

"Fuck the Z-Team," he cursed. His large hand picked up a broken chunk of wood and he squeezed until it splintered into a hundred tiny pieces in his palm. "I don't need them. I don't need you."

Another step forward. "You don't mean that," you told him.

"I know Robert sent you here. Of fucking course he did. Go back and tell him I'm better without that beta-cuck hero bullshit of a job."

You could see the fear of rejection dancing in his dark eyes. Dejection rolled off of him in waves. It was so painfully obvious how hurt he was. All you wanted to do was hold him and assure him everything would be okay.

Throwing caution to the wind, you acted against your better judgement and finally closed the gap between the two of you. Marching up to the giant bat-monster you called a friend, you stopped inches away from his face.

"If you want to scare people, go ahead," you challenged him. "I'm right here. If it'll make you feel better, scare me all you want."

"You think I won't?" Sonar's hand reached up and his long fingers curled around your neck. "You think I have some sort of soft spot for you or something?"

You willed your breathing to remain calm and steady and you felt his grip slowly tighten around your windpipe. "I don't know, do you?"

He didn't respond.

You felt his claws ghosting against the delicate skin of your neck. Your breath caught in your throat for a moment and you wiped the sweat from your palms on your pants.

You felt that familiar rush of the lack of oxygen in your brain and swallowed hard. Once you were sure Sonar wasn't going to actually choke you out, you reached up and placed your palm onto the tuft of fur between his blood-red eyes.

"It's okay to be upset," you told him simply. "I would be upset too."

He let out another bone-chilling screech right into your face, spittle dripping from his fangs as he did. "I'm not upset!" he denied. An obvious lie. "I don't need that stupid job to be a winner."

"I know you don't."

That made him falter. For a split second, his grip on your throat loosened and his face softened. In the blink of an eye, he had realized his own weakness and shaken it off. "Stop talking."

You listened to him, giving him the silence he so desperately craved. Instead, you let you hand drift down to the side of his face. You didn't miss the way he ever-so-subtly leaned into your touch.

He released his grip on your throat and moved his hand to your shoulder, gripping to you now not out of frustration but out of need. He was supporting himself on you, caving in more and more to your presence.

Finally, he hung his head. You watched as his ears drooped and his entire body deflated with one long exhale. You could practically see the anger washing away.

"Turn around," he requested. You did so without question or hesitation.

You listened intently to the familiar sound of transformation—to the sound of Sonar turning back into his true form. There was the rustle of fabric, of him getting dressed again in clothes he had the forethought to bring with him.

Then he was behind you and you could see in your mind the familiar image of him adjusting his bright red tie. You could feel his hot breath on the back of your neck, the sensation sending shivers down your spine.

You opened your mouth to ask if you could turn back around, but before you could get a single sound out, his head was resting on your shoulder and you could feel his body shaking with silent sobs.

Your heart shattered.

"They shouldn't have cut you," you said. "You deserve to be there as much as any of us do."

Sonar was too busy trying to quell the storm of emotions to say anything in response.

"I'll talk to Blonde Blazer tomorrow," you kept speaking, your own feelings bursting at the seams. "They have to give you a second chance. They have to. It's not fair."

"No." It was Sonar's turn to be the rational one. "It's over. They warned us someone was getting cut. It's my own fault for not stepping up my game. I should have tried harder."

You spun around, face to face with the version of Sonar you had befriended over the past couple of months. Dressed in his normal black dress pants, navy blue blazer, and red tie, he looked just how you remembered seeing him a few short hours ago. Right before he had been cut.

"It'll be okay." You cupped his fuzzy face in your hands and wiped the stray tears away with the pads of your thumbs. "When one door closes, another opens. Or some cheery bullshit like that."

He let out a strangled chuckle. "I don't think I'm quite ready for cheery bullshit. But thanks anyway."

"Tell me what to do then." You inched forward. "I want to help."

"Don't move," he instructed. You did as he asked, even when he copied your hand positioning and cupped your face with his trembling hands. Even when he leaned forward and kissed you softly. Even when he deepened the kiss, fangs nipping at your bottom lip.

When his tongue slipped into your mouth, your resolve finally broke and you melted into his touch. A soft moan escaped your mouth, which he quickly swallowed. Your hands trailed down his neck to settle on his shoulders.

"Is this helping?" you breathed out between hungry kisses.

"So much." He spoke directly into your mouth. "Oh my fucking God, so much. Thank you. Thank you."

By the time you finally pulled away from the kiss, you were both out of breath. Your hands were locked behind his neck and his hands were gripping harshly at your hips, sure to leave behind a bruise or two.

"Victor." His real name slipped past your lips. "I never knew ..."

"Neither did I. Until this very moment," he told you. "Maybe getting fired was what I needed to open my eyes. I could honestly give two shits about that job, but leaving you is going to suck."

"I'll miss you." You pressed another quick kiss to his snout. "But you aren't dying. We can still see each other."

"You wouldn't mind being seen with someone so pathetic they got kicked off of the Z-Team?" He cocked a single browbone.

You laughed. "As long as you wouldn't mind being seen with someone so pathetic they're still actively on the Z-Team."

"I wouldn't mind at all."

"Neither would I," you said. "Even if you did just rack up a whole new slew of felonies."

Sonar winced. "You mentioned something about children crying in the streets?"

"Don't ask." The tips of Sonar's ears drooped, a physical indicator of his shame.

"Oh, you know I'm going to anyway." You pressed your hand to your chest and drew in a deep breath. "How on God's green earth did this happen?"

Sonar hung his head even lower, which you had previously thought impossible. "Coop seduced me."

"I doubt that's what actually happened."

"Boobs were implied."

"Again. Doubtful."

Sonar reached up to adjust his tie, quickly realized it was impossible with only one hand, and quickly gave up. "Can you just get me out of here? I'm starting to lose feeling in my hand, and not in a fun kinky way."

"But this is such an amusing view." You pulled up a nearby stool and took a seat, ready to draw this out a little longer for pure entertainment purposes before cutting to the chase of the real reason you were there. "This is such a good start to the shift."

"You're an asshole, you know that?" Sonar strained against the handcuffs for good measure. As expected, the restraints didn't budge. "Did you really just come down here to bask in my suffering?"

"Now, now, I'm not that much of an psychopath." You shook your head. "You caught me. I have ulterior motives."

Sonar's browbone quirked upward. "An ex-villain taking advantage of someone else's misfortune for their own personal gain? Colour me shocked."

"Stuff it, furball," you warned. "Or I'll handcuff your other hand and leave you here."

Sonar's shoulders slumped, something you rarely saw of the individual who was so full of misplaced confidence and blatant arrogance. "Can you just get to the point then? I'd like to get out there are start doing some real hero shit sooner rather than later, or haven't you noticed I'm edging the bottom of the leaderboard?"

"Oh, I've noticed all right." You crossed one leg over the other. You took a moment to let the silence hang in the air before introducing your slightly embarrassing topic of conversation. "I wanted to talk about last night, actually."

"Last night?" Sonar repeated. "Babe, I barely remember what I ate for breakfast this morning."

You grimaced. "Call me another pet name and you'll lose more than just feeling in your hand."

"Okay, Jesus, chill out." Sonar raised his free hand in defense. "What about last night?"

You furrowed your brows, trying to figure out if he was being intentionally clueless. "You really don't remember?"

He shook his head. "I drank a lot. And did some coke in the bathroom. Don't tell Malevola."

"Pretty sure she already knows considering you came out of the bathroom looking like you were hit in the face with a snowball," you told him.

"Fuck."

"Yeah." You nodded. "Maybe look in the mirror next time. Or better yet, don't have a next time."

"You sound like Malevola."

"I've been accused of sounding worse."

Sonar balled his handcuffed hand into a fist a couple of times, clearly trying anything to get the circulation back. You were pretty sure his fingers were tingling by that point and needed to get to the point of the conversation.

"So you remember drinking and doing blow in the bathroom. Do you remember anything else?" you asked.

"Clearly not or I would have mentioned it." He rolled his eyes, his frustration starting to simmer. "What's with the interrogation? What, did we sleep together and I forgot or something?"

You felt your breath catch in your throat. When you didn't shoot back a witty retort, Sonar's white eyes widened. "Holy shit, no fucking way." He gasped. "We banged and I forgot? I must have been all kinds of fucked up last night."

"No, we didn't sleep together." You collected yourself and quickly set the record straight. "It didn't go that far."

"But we did something?" he guessed based on your response.

"Kind of?" You buried your hands in your face. "Fuck, I feel like some stupid teenager. I couldn't sleep at all last night, my brain was too busy replaying it over and over again."

"Replaying what over and over again?" Sonar was on the edge of his seat, literally teetering on the edge of the workout bench he was sitting on. "Will you cut the cryptic shit and just tell me?"

"You pulled me into the bathroom with you, confessed your love for me, and kissed me," you told him. "How can you not remember that?"

"I feel like I shouldn't have to explain the effect of copious substances on a person's memory," he said. "But that doesn't sound like something I'd do."

You furrowed your brows. "Then you threw up, slapped me on the ass, and walked away."

"That sounds more believable." Sonar nodded along. "What can I say? I'm a textbook heartbreaker."

"You're a textbook fuckwad, Sonar." You stood up, anger beginning to blossom. "You're telling me all of that was a drunken whim?"

"So what if it was? It's not like it meant anything."

Your silence was deafening.

"Oh."

You folded your arms across your chest and huffed. "Yeah. 'Oh'. Listen, I'm not saying I want to have your babies or anything, but you get a couple drinks in a girl and then confess your love for her and it makes her think. I just wanted to clear the air about last night; about what it meant, if it meant anything at all. Which clearly, it did not."

"You sound angry." Sonar seemed even more dejected than he had after being handcuffed to a piece of workout equipment.

"I'm not angry." You forced yourself to take a couple of deep breaths. "Just confused."

Silence took hold of the room once more, bathing the two of you in waves of contemplation.

"Clearly, some sober inside thoughts became drunken outside thoughts last night," Sonar confessed. "I'm not so much of a egotistical maniac that I won't admit when I've got ... feelings ... for someone."

"So you meant it?" You inquired. "What you said?"

Sonar shrugged. "I don't remember what I said, so I can't really confirm or deny. But I do think you're a hot piece of ass."

You sighed. "Charming."

"You already knew what kind of person I was when you went and started getting all hot and bothered thinking about my undying love for you," he said.

Your expression soured. "Yeah, I know what kind of person you are, all right. Ex-villain, cokehead, scammer."

"Even so, you couldn't sleep thinking about the fact that I allegedly told you I loved you."

"There's nothing allegedly about it. You said the words 'I love you' like four times."

"Be that as it may, you liked the thought of it."

You scoffed and stepped away, physically taken aback by Sonar's words. "I did not say that."

"It was implied."

"Like Coop's boobs were?"

"Exactly."

"Okay, I'm leaving." You started for the exit, regrets about having this conversation at all suddenly running wild in your mind. "Find someone else to unlock you."

"We've been here for over 2 hours and you're just now asking me to have a drink with you?" You cocked a brow. "You're being suspicious."

"No, I'm not." She shook her head as she waved to try and get the bartender's attention. "I'm being friendly."

"Which is suspicious," you told her. You immediately knew she was up to something; the members of the Z-Team were rarely, if ever, friendly just out of the kindness of their hearts.

As Malevola's gaze once more settled on something—or someone—across the bar over your shoulder, she appeared to give up the act. Her usual resting-bitch-face resumed it's almost permanent position on her face. "Just take one for the team and give him a chance," she said, confusing you even further. "He's been insufferable. Let him have this. Please. For all of us."

Before you had the chance to ask any follow-up questions, Malevola pushed away from the bar and Sonar slid into her place. "Hey," he greeted, his elbow narrowly missing the counter from where he meant to lean against the surface. You watched as he fumbled to regain his posture. Once he was settled, pool cue in one hand and a drink in the other, he smiled. "Hey." He started from the top.

You narrowed your eyes at your co-worker. "Hey," you responded in turn. You tried to find Malevola in the crowd but she had vanished, probably watching whatever was going on from a safe distance. "What's up?"

"Nothing much." He was trying way too hard to play it cool. It was hard to watch. "What's up with you?"

You held up your empty glass from the drink you had finished a while ago. "Probably gonna head home."

His concerned expression matched Malevola's when you had told her the same thing. "What? No. It's still early."

"It's almost midnight and we have work tomorrow," you reminded him. "Plus, I'm tired."

"Boo." He shook his head.

You chuckled. "Did you just boo me? In real life? Did that really just happen?"

He shrugged, still trying way too hard to be nonchalant. "Maybe."

"You're being weird." You ran the pad of your finger around the rim of your empty glass. You had known Sonar to have the odd blunder when trying to come across as cool, but whatever this was was something completely different. "Why does everyone have something against me going home?"

"Oh, uh, no reason."

"Really?" You quirked a quizzical brow.

"Just stay and have one more drink," he practically begged. "Please?"

You rolled your eyes, finally giving in. At this rate, you could finish one more drink quicker than you could convince the group to let you go home. "Fine. One drink." You grabbed your bag off the counter. "I'm going to the bathroom. Order me whatever you're having."

"Done." He saluted. He actually saluted. Maybe he was just really drunk? That had to be why he was acting so unlike himself.

Heading to the back of the bar, you were grateful that there wasn't a long line for the toilets and slid into one of the single person bathrooms. After relieving yourself and washing your hands, you had just opened the bathroom door again when you came face to face with Sonar. His eyes were wider and brighter now, as if he had consumed copious substances in the short time you had been apart. You knew he had done coke earlier, but based on his expression, you wouldn't have been surprised if he had just done another bump.

Shooting back a quick shot, Sonar tossed the glass over his shoulder—ignoring the glass shattering against the wall behind him—and pushed you back into the bathroom. Stumbling backward, your back had just pressed into the opposite wall before Sonar was locking the door again and attacking you with his mouth.

The kiss was a messy affair. His tongue was dancing around the inside of your mouth and his fangs were biting into the soft skin of your lips, drawing the smallest amount of blood.

Fisting your hands into the wrinkled fabric of his suit jacket, you pushed the crazed bat-man away from you. "Sonar," you breathed out. "What the fuck? What are you doing?"

Sonar's lust-filled eyes sobered for but a moment. "I'm ... kissing you?" it came out more like a question.

"Yeah, I figured that much out for myself, dipshit!" You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and cringed slightly at the smeared blood on your knuckles. "Why are you kissing me?"

"Because I'm in love with you."

"You're what?!"

His once confident expression faltered. "I thought you knew. Everyone convinced me you already knew. You're telling me you didn't know?"

"Well I know now." Your feelings had done a somersault, a backflip, and a cartwheel all at once over the past thirty seconds.

"Oh God. Oh my fucking God." Sonar suddenly looked very ill. "You didn't know. And I just ... we just ... you don't ..."

"What made you think assaulting me in the bathroom of a shitty villain bar was the best way to go about confessing your love for me?" you inquired.

Sonar gripped the sides of the sink hard and bent over, his knuckles turning white. "I thought you were into me too. I didn't mean to assault you. It was supposed to be hot." He doubled over even more. "I'm going to be sick."

"Please don't throw up in the sink after telling me you love me," you pleaded. "Not many things shake my self-confidence, but that'll do it for sure."

To his credit, Sonar didn't throw up in the sink. He threw up in the toilet, shoving you out of the way and dropping to his knees just in time to avoid blowing chunks all over the floor.

"Let it all out." You patted him gingerly on the back, crouching down beside him. "There, there."

"I'm sorry." You had never heard Sonar apologize for anything in your entire life. But he seemed like the genuinely regretted his actions, and even if he hadn't, you were pretty sure the amount of pity you felt for him in that moment would have forced you to forgive him anyway. "Man, I really fucked this up. I was just so nervous, so I had a couple drinks ... and did some cocaine. Then I had a couple more drinks."

"Yeah, I saw," you assured him. "There's glass all over the floor outside the bathroom now."

"Did I look cool?"

You thought for a moment, eventually deciding to spare his feelings. "Sure, buddy. You looked super cool."

Sonar sat back from the toilet and leaned his head back against the wall. "What about the kiss? Was it good?"

"Don't push your luck," you warned.

"Yeah, I figured as much." He sighed. "Sorry about your lip. I got a little excited." He reached out and ghosted the pad of his thumb over your bottom lip where his fangs had drawn blood. Your heart fluttered for a fraction of a second.

"Don't worry about it," you told him. "Surprisingly, I've had worse kisses."

"Not the worst." He nodded to himself. "Nice."

"Barely," you said. "Just barely not the worst."

"A win is a win."

You laughed as you stood up and offered your hand. "Okay, looks like it's time for both of us to head home. Come on, Sonar. Get off the bathroom floor. It's disgusting down there."

"Victor," he corrected as he took your outstretched hand in his and pulled himself to his feet. "Call me Victor. Please."

"Victor," you repeated. "You feeling better, Victor?"

"Physically or emotionally?"

"Physically?"

"Then yes, feeling better."

You nodded. "And emotionally?"

"Might take me a little longer to recover from this blow to my ego."

You laughed again. "Hey, to be fair, I never said I wasn't into you."

Victor's eyes lit up once more, much like they had when you had first opened the bathroom door. "Really?" He approached you, arms snaking around your waist, hands giving your ass a quick slap and a tight squeeze.

"Pretty sure this is also assault," you told him matter-of-factly. You pressed your finger to his lips. "And even if I were into it, there's no way I'm kissing you after you've just vomited. Even I have standards."

"Good call." He backed off. "You have a nice ass though."

You couldn't help the chuckle that escaped. Somehow, his floundering was kind of adorable, in a really sleazy, pathetic sort of way. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." He unlocked the bathroom door and threw it open wide, showcasing a long line of angry patrons who had been waiting to use the facilities. "Time to finish this night on a higher note than it started."

"Which means?" you inquired.

"When in doubt, illicit substances will always hold me close and whisper sweet nothings into my ear."

You blew out an exasperated breath. "Never change, Victor."