"Look who came crawling back," Someone said as Tommy walked into the apartment. It was fifty six minutes after midnight. Drista was sitting on the recliner with her legs folded in an oversized hoodie, black shorts, and knee length dark gray socks. Her dirty blonde hair was down, resting on her shoulder with a hood pulled up. Her dark green eyes were illuminated by the lamp she had on right beside her on the stand by the chair. She had probably been waiting there ever since Tommy left to get himself a coffee. Drista seemed tired from doing that, but Tommy didn't have any sympathy for her. Especially when she was smirking at him like she had won something.

"Look who's fucking blind. Does it look like I'm crawling?" Tommy snapped back as he closed the door. Tommy threw his shoes in the mudroom archway around the door. Clay's shoes were straightened out beside the small wall that separated the mudroom from the living room. Drista's shoes were right beside him, obviously placed there to look exactly like his did. Tommy snarled as he kicked one of her shoes to mess them both up. Now, Clay's were the only ones that looked appropriate.

"Do you know how much trouble you're going to be in when Clay wakes up? He was pissed that you left," Drista said, unfolding her legs. She stood up, trotting over to Tommy with a growing smirk. Tommy slammed into her with his shoulder as he walked past her. Tommy went into the kitchen. It was a mess like how he had left it. Tommy sighed as he started to pick up the pan that he had been using to heat up the vegetable oil. Tommy placed it in the sink. He grabbed onto a rag to clean up the spilt oil. Drista stomped her foot on the rag. "Why did you bandage yourself? That's just going to make him angrier."

Tommy pulled the rag with all his strength. Drista squealed as she windmilled to stay standing. Tommy snickered as he continued cleaning. He heard Drista huff in annoyance. Tommy didn't look up at her as he started talking. He didn't need or want to explain himself to Drista, but he thought it would make her leave him alone. "I didn't fucking bandage it. Some lady at the cafe did it."

"Oh, have you gotten so weak that you can't tell some civilian woman no? Did she hold you down so you couldn't escape?" Drista said, squatting down with her hands crossed over her knees. Tommy tilted his head up to glare at her while he kept scrubbing the oil with the rag. "Or have you gone soft? Did she smile at you? Did you cave immediately? Let me guess, you begged her to help you because it hurt. Which is it, Tommy, are you weak or soft?"

"The only weak one here is you, Drista," Tommy snapped as he raised his hand up. A ring of red electricity formed around his hand, and a bolt of lightning slammed into Drista. She was knocked back onto her butt, sliding across the tile until she slammed into the cabinets. Drista growled at him, her hand shooting out. A sphere of green mist surrounding a white baseball sized orb of light came out of her hand. Tommy was able to stand his ground when the sphere made contact with his chest, but he still sucked in a breath of pain. Tommy lifted his hands again, and Drista matched it. Bolts of red lightning clashed against a beam of white light covered in green mist, creating a swirling orb in the middle that sucked in the two powers. Drista caved first, her powers slowly weakening until she couldn't conjure anything. Tommy let his hands drop when Drista had given up. "I told you that you were the weaker one."

"At least I'm disciplined! You're nothing but a reckless coward with a power he can't understand, much less control! You act like your special, but we both know that you're a sham!" Drista nearly screamed. She kept her voice quiet only because Clay was asleep in his room elsewhere in the house. If the two of them were to wake him up, the punishment they would receive would be a lot worse than normal. Tommy didn't doubt that if the two of them were anywhere else in the world, she would be screaming at him with all the anger in her heart.

"You act like that makes you any less shit than you are," Tommy retorted, picking the rag up. He threw the rag into the sink. Drista scrambled to her feet that way Tommy wasn't looking down on her. Well, he was looking down on her because she was shorter than she was and he knew he was superior. Tommy didn't know what Drista thought she was doing. Did standing make her feel less defenseless? "Drista, you're not better than me. Not in any way."

"Are you going to stand here and lie to me? Are you telling me that you actually think you're good?" Drista said with a low voice that seemed to resonate in Tommy's mind. For a moment, the two stared at each other. Tommy couldn't tell anyone why they hated each other so much. They should have been each other's closest companion. In another world, they could have confided each other about the hardships that the world put them through. Instead, they had arguments in the middle of the night, trying to poison each other enough that they felt something. Tommy's only emotions were when he was angry at Drista or satisfied that he made her angry. He could thank her for giving him some emotion. Tommy didn't even hate her. It was easier to loathe than to love, and Tommy kept a tight leash on his heart. Drista was right. Tommy was lying. To himself, to her, to Clay. Tommy wasn't better than Drista, and he wasn't much better than the criminals they fought on a daily basis. Tommy thought about telling her that, but the two of them moved in a fragile dance where they didn't care about each other because it would hurt worse if they did.

"Shut the fuck up, Drista. No one gives a damn what you think. It doesn't matter which one of us is better. We're both puppets for the masses to gawk at," Tommy settled on saying instead of lying or telling the most honest truth in his heart. Tommy knew that if he opened himself up, either rejection would sting him or Drista would be used against him. It was better for everyone that they kept their guards up.

"I'm not done with you, yet. I didn't stay up for half the night for you to push my buttons and smite me with your burden," Drista said, stomping behind Tommy as he tried to leave. Tommy looked back at her with an unimpressed stare. Drista huffed as she crossed her arms. "I overheard Clay on the phone. He was talking to Schlatt. And I say talk because they weren't arguing or yelling at each other. They're up to something."

"How is that our problem? Are you daring to question the actions of our dear Clay?" Tommy said with an eyebrow raising. While it was curious that Clay was getting along with Schlatt considering how much they despised each other, Tommy know it wasn't his place to be curious. In some ways, Clay and Schlatt were like Tommy and Drista. The difference was that Tommy and Drista fought each other to protect each other and themselves. Clay and Schlatt hated each other for some reason in their past. It could have been that Clay was a more popular hero, but Tommy knew that a hate like that came from a much deeper place.

"Tommy, if the two of them are working together, it has to be important. It has will be nothing short of revolutionary. The only thing is that I don't know if it will be goo-" Drista began talking. Tommy slammed his hand against her lips to muffle her words. Drista glared at him, yanking his hand away with more force than necessary. She squeezed tightly on the bandages around Tommy's arm, and he clenched his jaw as pain swarmed his body from the burns. Drista finally let go, stepping away from Tommy was a heavy glare. "What was that for?"

"Don't fucking say that. What if Clay overheard you? If he finds out that you are suspecting him of something dangerous, something evil, bad things will happen," Tommy muttered quietly. It was late nights like these when Tommy and Drista could admit out loud that Clay didn't treat them right. When the morning came, Clay's firm hold on them would return, and they would be happy dolls that would do his bidding. When he was asleep, they had enough freedom to speak their minds. Not like they would take advantage of this since Clay could stumble upon their words by happenstance. Tommy could not go back to Logstedshire.

"Fine, I won't. But... keep my words in mind," Drista said stepping away from Tommy. He watched her disappear into the hallway branching off the living room on the opposite wall to the kitchen that led to their bedrooms. Tommy heard her door open and shut. All Tommy could do was sigh as he lowered himself onto the couch. He fumbled with the bandages around his arm, wondering if taking them off would make Clay happier in the morning.

——

"We had new customers at the cafe today," Nemesis mentioned as she looked down from the rooftop. She wore a domino mask around her long-lashed brown eyes with her faded pink hair pulled up into a ponytail. She wore a sleeveless, tight gray shirt tucked into an almost golden belt that covered her stomach area. Nemesis had white pants with a black line running down each side and two dots near where pockets would be on normal pants. These were tucked into knee length black boots. She had fingerless black gloves that went all the way to her elbows. Around her shoulder was a small cape that was tied together with a golden chain. "They almost got into a fistfight in the corner booth."

"Like that hasn't happened before," Blaze responded with a quiet laugh. He wore a golden jacket with copper clasps that were closed. Underneath he wore dark red leggings with soot all over them. Floating around him were golden rods that sparked with fire that Blaze could manipulate at will. His heterochromatic eyes, one a dull red and the other a deep blue, were gazing through a binocular at the happenings of the street.

"There was one boy who came with bare burn marks on his arm. He didn't flinch or cry when I bandaged him. He was so prickly, but he was never outright mean. He could be insensitive," Nemesis continued with a sigh. "All of them were an odd bunch. Even though they were all vastly different, they had the same air about them. They got along fairly well, too. They acted like old friends."

"That's sweet... I guess? What kind of reaction do you want from me?" Blaze said, turning his attention away from what he had been staring intently at to Nemesis. The female vigilante huffed as she took the binoculars into her hands. She looked at what they had been observing for the entire night. Instead of going on their normal patrol, they were having a stakeout on a building that the famous hero Minotaur had gone into. The building was presented as a brothel, but Nemesis and Blaze had worked on this street long enough to know that this building was the bidding site for humans that had been trafficked. What Minotaur could want there was what Blaze and Nemesis were trying to figure out.

"He's on the move. Let's go," Nemesis said, stashing away the binoculars in a pouch. Nemesis leaped off the building into the alleyway. She pointed her palms down to the ground, and the air began to vibrate beneath her hands from the heat she was emitting. Blaze flicked his wrist. The rods around him swung around to create a staircase down to the ground for him. Once he stepped off one rod, it repositioned itself around him. When the two vigilante partners were on the ground, they peered around the corner to see Minotaur trotting down the street without a care, his lips pressed against a bottle of expensive alcohol. The two vigilantes began to follow close behind.