Chapter Text
For a moment, Grian flew.
In a single, suspended second, he hovered between the precipice of life and death, a long, extended fall beneath, and the safety of the next rooftop before him. The sky was bathed in a golden light, the setting sun casting molten gold across his skin as he hovered in the air.
A breath, lungs releasing their hold as he closed his eyes.
Then gravity took hold again, and he snapped them open. Bend the knees, tuck in the head, extend the hands and—
The rubber of his shoes hit solid plaster, the balls of his feet slamming into the ground and propelling him forward into a roll. One rotation, then another, and he was back on his feet again, the momentum of his fall carrying him into a sprint as soon as it was safe to do so.
His satchel thudded against his back, his breaths coming in short gasps once again as he checked his watch. A chain link fence rose before him, and he broadened his stride, one, two, before leaping as high as his body allowed him, fingers snapping a hold on the chain as his feet scrabbled for purchase. A moment later he caught himself enough to push up and over, the world spinning around him for a moment before he caught himself in another roll, landing clear on the other side.
Vault over the AC unit, slide under the ventilation ducts. Hug the wall on the clear stretch of roof to avoid the chopper crossing overhead, and—shit, the highway crossing was approaching, he’d almost forgotten about it.
Glancing around, he turned away from the wall as soon as the sounds of the chopper’s blades began to fade. Below him, the building he’d been racing across dropped off sharply to the roar of vehicles two dozen floors below.
He jumped.
Another moment, suspended in the air. Flight, for just a millisecond.
Then his hands made contact with the power cord suspended over the gap. His gloved left went first, the padded kevlar gliding smoothly against the ribbed aluminum, his uncovered right fitting neatly on top. Air screeching past his ears, he arced down to a building on the other side of the street, a few stories shorter.
He tucked up his legs, dangling hundreds of feet in the air before the drop was replaced with plaster once again. He dropped once the going was safe, rolling to a stop a bit harder than he intended, the shock running right through to his bones. His next few steps were shaky, but he regained his bearing quickly enough, vaulting up to the next building, which rose a few feet higher than the previous. Hands striking against the top, he pulled himself up with a grunt, feet kicking up and over to make the jump.
It was a clear shot to the end now, just a set of stairs to the top of the building. He took off into a final sprint, taking the stairs three at a time until he hit the end. Slapping the handpad at the top of the railing, he slowed to a complete stop, hands on his knees as he struggled to catch his breath.
Grian sighed, blinking the sweat out of his eyes as he collected himself. Gazing outwards, he slowly straightened, fiddling with the glove on his left hand as he took in the sight before him.
The city was beautiful in the evening. The sun was touching the horizon now, and the golden rays that had covered the skyscrapers earlier were beginning to turn an orange-red, glinting off the glass in speckles of burnt offerings. The chopper he’d spotted before was hardly more than a dot in the sky by now, too far away to be of any worry, and the roar of traffic was starting to ebb as the streetlights and neon billboards began to turn on with the onset of night.
Still, he looked closer. The skyscraper he’d just scaled was a far cry from the tallest in the city, but it gave a good vantage point, so why couldn’t he see—
“Beat ‘cha.”
A hand slapped his shoulder, and Grian stiffened on instinct, hand twitching for his belt before he caught himself. Scowling good-naturedly, he turned around and gave the man standing behind him a punch to the arm.
“Don’t do that,” he shot back, but he was smiling, and the grin he got in return was worth it. The man behind him was a few inches taller than him, with bright red sunglasses and slicked-back, bright blond hair. A long-sleeved red shirt sat under a black vest hosting an array of pockets, with red cargo pants and black combat boots below. Just like Grian, there was a red Kevlar glove on his left hand.
“I really hope you didn’t think that you beat me,” Tango laughed, waving his hand.
“Oh, come on. I wasn’t that far behind, was I?”
“What time did you get?”
Shrugging, Grian pulled out his phone, tapping it open and pulling up his recent texts. Clicking on the automated number that sent in his track times, he smirked as he read the number on the screen.
“16:14, that’s pretty good.”
“Yeah, that must be a personal best for you,” Tango nodded, smiling at him as together, the two men began to walk steadily across the rooftop. It was sparsely decorated, just a few AC units and fans rumbling about, enough that Grian could easily spot the yellow duffel bag tucked in next to the main AC unit. He jogged forwards, unzipping the bag and grinning as he grabbed some of the water and granola bars stuffed inside.
“Looks like Doc didn’t eat us out of house and home this time ‘round,” he laughed, and Tango joined in briefly, taking a few of the supplies offered to him. “X told me he was taking Bdubs and False through this morning, and you know how they eat.”
“Like a pack of wild hyenas,” Tango replied, nodding as he returned to their original topic. “Yeah, I beat you by a good minute there, but you’re still getting used to the track. Great job on the highway crossing, by the way. You put my heart in my throat when I saw you take that jump; I didn’t start doing that until I’d done this route for a good few weeks.”
“It’s all about confidence, my friend. This is like the sixth time you’ve taken me through that route today, and getting a running start really shaves off those seconds.”
“You’re too competitive for your own good, man. This is my territory, you aren’t going to start beating me just because I’ve been touring you around.”
Grian paused, taking a swig of his water before he replied, winking. “Doesn’t mean I can’t try.”
And Tango laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. “That’s the spirit!” The hand tightened, and the other man pulled him closer as he continued. “Never say that to X though, he’ll get on your behind over an attitude like that.”
Grian swatted him away, shaking his head. “I know, I know. I have common sense, believe it or not.”
“You’re a Runner, G, that kind of guarantees you don’t have any.”
They were nearing the edge of the rooftop now, a small gap separating their skyscraper from the next. Grian let Tango go first, taking a bit of a running start to clear the meter-wide gap. Grian followed a moment later, making the same jump with ease. His water bottle went into his satchel, which was then returned to its spot on his back as they approached a sheer wall, the building rising sharply for a few stories or so. Grian frowned, glancing up as he tried to spot any handholds, but Tango made a gesture with his hand, two fingers pointing to the right, and they turned away, heading towards the edge of the building where a street prevented them from crossing as well.
“Ledge, pole, AC unit,” Tango instructed him, waving to the side. Grian nodded, and the other Runner moved away, letting him go first.
Ah, so that’s how it was going to be. Grian put his tongue between his teeth, carefully following the edge until he met where the building rose in front of him. Sure enough, the lower roof he was on extended past the rise, giving him a few extra inches of space to reach the pipe that was running up the side of the building. He followed its path, and though it stopped a few feet shy of the roof, it ran into an AC unit that definitely was in reach.
“Alright,” he breathed, cracking his knuckles. Slowly, he toed the ledge, back to the wall as he eked out on a walkway that was thinner than his shoes were lengthwise. There was a distant honking from the cars below, but Grian was more than experienced enough to not look down, shuffling along until he was within reach of the pipe.
“Good job,” Tango called out to him once he got a handhold on it, and he risked a glance back to see the man leisurely peering around the wall to watch him. “But where’s all that confidence you were talking about before?”
Grian rolled his eyes, following the motion along with his head to make sure Tango saw, before he returned his attention to his work, swinging around until he was straddling the pipe, a hand on either side. Planting his feet firmly on the wall, he pushed up, walking the pipe as he went hand over hand. That part was easy enough, a move he’d done a thousand times, but when he reached the AC rumbling above him, Grian paused, shuffling up a few more inches until he was able to grasp a lower handhold.
Swinging out, Grian fully let go of the pole, and, legs dangling above nothing, grabbed another handhold with his other hand and pulled himself up, breath hissing between his teeth as he kicked up, shoes scraping against the metal until he’d pulled himself on top. The machine seemed to groan under his weight a little so he didn’t dally, jumping up and grabbing the ledge of the roof and kicking up and back onto safety.
This rooftop was fairly bare, the ledge of the wall a few inches above the plaster roofing. A few ventilation ducts were scattered about, with several cords and a roof access hatch. Nothing of real worth, so Grian returned his attention to the wall he’d just scaled, where Tango was following his path. He, as the resident expert of this area, went at the route like a spider, scampering up the wall in half the time Grian had, pulling himself up to his feet on the roof with a little “hup!” as he bounced onto his feet.
“Done making me try your routes first?” Grian asked, rather dryly. Tango grinned back at him, unrepentant.
“But watching you struggle is so much fun,” he teased, and got a punch in the arm for his efforts.
“Just wait until you get assigned to my sector of the city,” he shot back. “I can’t wait to get you into crane running.”
To his credit, Tango shuddered, shaking his head a bit before pausing, startled out of their banter. Grian watched him with mild interest as he fished his phone out of his pocket, glancing at what must be some new text notifications.
“What is it?” Grian asked, noting how Tango’s expression shifted into something halfway between confusion and irritation.
“One of my hand sensors got tripped a few blocks over,” he replied, pulling up the mapping app they used and showing Grian the ticking red dot two streets over. “Not sure who it is.Want to check it out before we head home?”
“Sure, X doesn’t have any jobs for us tonight, anyways. Maybe we’ll get into something fun.”
“Or it’ll just be another rat chewing through the wires.”
“Or that.”
Tango waved a hand, bouncing on his feet a little before taking off down the rooftop. Grian followed suit, and the two Runners made the jump to the next building with relative ease. With the sky rapidly dimming, the rays of the sun were swiftly replaced with the artificial yellows and neons of the city, the nightlife emerging with the setting of the sun.
The route between the two sensors was much easier than the one Tango had him running earlier, and since it wasn’t for time, the two kept a swift but easy pace, vaulting a chain link fence with a “keep out!” sign to access the hanging power line that brought them to the next street over. The zipline was even easier, Tango hopping out of the way before Grian landed and they took off again.
As they made the next jump over, Tango slowed, reaching back to tap Grian on the arm. The two came to a stop, taking advantage of the growing darkness to mold into the shadows. Tango made a few more hand gestures, pointing down at the next building below. Grian followed his gaze, crouching at the lip of the roof. The next skyscraper was a story or so shorter, with a small alley between them. Distantly, he could see two figures talking on the far side of the roof, too blotted in the contrast between the city lights and twilight sky to make out too many features.
Tango muttered to himself as Grian ducked down more in an effort to stay out of sight. An actual person tripping their sensors was almost always one of two types of people, and he was pretty sure that there weren’t supposed to be any Runners out here tonight.
His partner, meanwhile, pulled out a pair of binoculars from yet another pocket. Barely the size of his palm, Tango extended the small apparatus and turned it on, peering through the lens before he swore abruptly.
“It’s freaking…” He tsk’ed, shaking his head as he passed the binoculars to an increasingly curious Grian. “It’s a Vig. And Scar. ”
“Scar?” Grian nearly shouted, catching himself before he got too loud. “What’s he doing up here? How did he get up here?”
“Beats me, but he must’ve tripped my sensor. Kind of hard to slap that thing on accident. Do you recognize that Vig? I haven’t seen them ‘round here before.”
Grian pulled the binoculars up, squinting as he steadied his gaze on the two figures. Sure enough, there was Scar’s silhouette against the street lights. With magnification, he could tell that his friend didn’t seem to think he was in any danger—but then again, it could go either way when it came to that man. He was leaning lightly on his cane, brown jacket and slacks pressed to perfection as he conversed with the other person on the roof.
And yeah, that was a Vig if he’d ever seen one. They were young, with a dark red jacket cut short, revealing a thick white shirt underneath, with tan pants and black combat boots. They shifted a little as they spoke, clearly quite agitated, and Grian caught a glimpse of a green bandana and black gas mask underneath a shock of curly blond hair.
Overall, not one of the Vigilantes Grian had ever had the misfortune of running into, but he didn’t look like one that was very well-supplied in the first place either. Probably not someone they had to worry about, but you never knew with Gifted, especially when they were a Vig.
“Nah,” he replied, passing the binoculars back to Tango. “They look pretty young though. Maybe they’re new.”
Tango hummed uncertainly, before pocketing the binoculars.
“Well, Scar probably expects us to go help him out,” he sighed, shaking his shoulders. “Who knows what mess he’s gotten into this time.”
“We still don’t even know how he got up here,” Grian grumbled, standing up as he did so. Scar and the Vig, engrossed in their conversation, still hadn’t noticed them.
It was a simple enough job to get down to the same rooftop as them. There was a metal drainage pipe, and Tango and Grian slid down that, tapping down on the lower level without much sound. As they moved forward, practiced steps silent against the rubber, Grian grew close enough to see the moment Scar noticed their approach. True to his skills, it was hardly any acknowledgement at all, just a subtle shifting of his body to get the Vig’s back to them, and them facing him. Why he couldn’t use that talent of his to not get in altercations with Vigs in the first place, Grian didn’t know.
“No, I’m not falling into whatever scheme you’re trying to play on me!” The Vig was saying, and he was definitely young. Maybe 17 or 18? “Look, man, I appreciate your help, but—”
He cut himself off, turning around in a flash to face Grian and Tango, electricity dancing across his fingers in wide arcs as he raised copper-tipped gloves.
Grian let himself stop, keeping one eye out for Tango’s cues and the other on Scar and the Vig, who was clearly some kind of electrokinetic. He wasn’t too worried just yet, but Vigs weren’t like Heroes, who did their best to just try and ignore the Runners that they occasionally had the luck of spotting. And unlike Runners, which toed the line of legality supremely carefully, Vigilantes were full-on illegal thanks to the non-registered usage of their Gifts, which put the two groups in an uneasy relationship on their good days.
“Scar, what did you do this time?” Tango sighed, crossing his arms. The Vig relaxed a little when it didn’t seem like they were going to attack, but Grian kept an eye on him nonetheless as he let his friends do the talking.
“Oh, just helping out this poor Vigilante!” Scar exclaimed, as if he was offended at the mere idea Tango would question him (Grian knew, for a fact, that he was not). “He was in quite the pickle, you see, and I just happened to walk by and diffuse the situation.”
“And now you’re trying to scam me into working for you!” the Vig snapped, stomping his foot. Grian blinked, unimpressed.
“Oh, he’s not trying to recruit you,” Tango scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Scar, are you really trying to extort a kid for an IOU?”
“Well, my services aren’t free for people I don’t know, you see! I have to stay in business somehow.”
“I was just fine before you came along!” The Vig near-screeched, still waving his arms. Scar scoffed, giving the other two a knowing look.
“He bit off a little more than he could chew,” Scar clarified. “And angered some minor Villains. He’s lucky I was there and talked them down.”
And that was probably the most genuine thing Scar had said since they’d arrived. Grian sighed, looking the Vig up and down. Yeah, he was a Vig, but he was also very clearly a teenager who, talent disregarded, was clearly a little in over their head.
“Just take the IOU, kid,” he said, ignoring how Scar was grinning. “Scar won’t try anything that’ll do you harm. He’ll push the IOU to hell and back, but it’ll be annoying at most.”
“All I want is a nice Vigilante who won’t hurt my precious Runners,” Scar agreed, completely unrepentant. The Vig started a little, glancing over at Grian and Tango with narrowed eyes.
“You all are Runners?” he asked, somewhere between surprise and indignation. Grian resisted rolling his eyes.
“And?” Tango asked, crossing his arms as he leveled the kid with a low stare. They knew exactly what Vigs thought of them: the poor, vagabond Giftless who couldn’t be trusted as far as they could throw them. Never a threat, but not exactly nice to have either.
“Nothing,” the Vig muttered, any comments burnt away under Tango’s stare. Grian hummed appreciatively. Well, at least he had some common sense. “Fine, I’ll take it.”
“Perfect!” Scar cheered, a grin crossing his face as he pulled a business card out of his pocket. “Here’s my contact information, I’ll shoot you a text sometime. Maybe we can go out for snacks. My treat.”
The Vig hesitantly took the card, flicking it into some hidden pocket. He didn’t say anything, but he clearly didn’t look too happy about it, either.
Oh well. He was a Vig, after all.
“What’s your name, anyways?” Grian asked, and the Vig turned back to him.
“Electrostatic,” he said shortly. Scar chortled.
“It’s such a cute little name!” he giggled. “Little Static protecting the little guys!”
“Fuck you, man,” Electrostatic snapped at him. For a moment, he almost looked like he wanted to pick a fight with them, but then clearly thought better of it. He turned away from their group, taking a few steps before he took off by a small electric explosion from his feet, hurtling him to the next street over. In a few moments, he was out of sight.
“Fun kid,” Scar commented.
“He’s a bratty Vig, that’s what he is,” Tango snorted, crossing his arms. “Can’t believe I haven’t heard him screeching around, considering how loud he is.”
“Oh, he’s not from around here.” Scar waved a hand dismissively. “That’s why he got in over his head; he strayed too far from home.”
“Whatever,” Grian snorted, trying and failing to suppress the smile crossing his face. “How did you even get up here, Scar?”
“Oh, it’s quite simple, actually.” Scar picked up his cane, jabbing it to where there was metal fencing peeking over the edge. “Fire escape. I needed you guys to seal the deal with Mr. Static anyways.”
Grian groaned exaggeratedly, then laughed, jumping up to swing an arm around his shoulders. Scar laughed, letting himself get pulled down and jostled a bit.
“You need to stop going after Vigs like this,” Grian said, half serious. “At this rate, you’re going to have scammed half the population out of their pocket money.”
“ Or a very handy IOU,” Scar shot back, whacking Grian with his cane to get him off. “You know how Vigs are with their word. If you get ‘em on a promise, they’ve gotta fulfill it, or their precious reputation is on the line!”
And therein laid Scar’s genius. Most Vigs relied on the goodwill of the people they ran into to avoid getting the Heroes on their trail, and that depended on having a good reputation. If word got around about a Vigilante breaking a promise to someone, especially with someone visibly disabled like Scar, word tended to get around.
The thing was, Scar knew that, and he milked it to high heaven. His bribery was probably half the reason why the Vigs and Runners left each other alone. Without it, Grian was sure they’d have at least one or two or a half dozen of them on some moral crusade to get their little operation shut down.
“Alright, you’ve successfully gotten another Vig under your belt,” Tango drawled, waving a hand. “X is expecting us back within the hour. Do you want us to help, or have you got a ride?”
“Nah, I’ve got enough to catch an Uber,” Scar shrugged. “And it’s been a pretty good day for me, so I can make the rest of the walk. Thanks for offering, though.”
“Ew, Ubers,” Grian teased, and got a tongue stuck in his direction.
“ Some of us mortals can’t just jump two stories to get where we need to go.”
“Alright, alright, you’re both pretty,” Tango cut in, catching a groan from Grian and a snicker from Scar in response. “But we do have to head out soon. Twilight’s fading now, which means…”
He trailed off, finger spinning somewhere towards the horizon. Grian just scoffed good-naturedly, rolling his eyes.
“You’re not going to get it, man, you’ve been trying for days now.”
“No, no, just give it a second.” Tango made a shushing sound. There was silence for a few moments, then…
An explosion rocked them, a soft sonic boom crashing into them, off the coattails of a distant pop of light. Scar whistled as Tango cheered.
“Finally!” he shouted, holding out a hand. Grian rolled his eyes, but smiled, and he slapped a crumpled five-dollar bill in his palm.
“You win, you win,” he conceded. “Who do you think it is this time?”
“Well, it was a bit of a fireball,” Scar noted, tapping his chin. “Who’s that pyrokinetic Villain going around again?”
“Sapnap?” Grian echoed, shrugging. “Yeah, I guess it’s possible. He and Technoblade have had that rivalry going on for a while now.”
“Still can’t believe I got that,” Tango breathed, still grinning.
“Well, I suppose it is time I take my leave,” Scar announced, tipping an imaginary hat and bowing to the pair. “Uber prices skyrocket every time those Heroes get in a scuffle, and I don’t want mine to cancel on me.”
“We’ll see you back at base!” Grian replied, and he and Tango waved as their friend walked away, swinging himself over the roof and onto the fire escape.
“I love that man,” Tango said once he was gone.
“Don’t we all?”
Tango nodded with a breathy chuckle, then turned back to him, smirking.
“Bet I can beat you back to base.”
“That’s totally not fair! You know this place like the back of your hand.”
“O ho, are those some nerves I’m hearing?”
Grian let that question hang in the air for a moment, before he darted off, feet slapping the ground as he stole a head start. Tango screeched something unintelligible behind him, and Grian laughed, vaulting up the pipe and back onto the taller section of the building.
He was so going to lose this race.