Chapter 6
The metallic stench of blood died down as it dried on the wall. Mary had left her chair to go alert the other operators and neighbouring districts.
‘Can’t you do it seated?’ Sirius had thought to ask her, but he knew the answer.
She didn’t want to sit and watch. Try to guess where the blood came from or how it must have been extracted. He let her leave, he would leave too if he had the choice. But he didn’t. He sat there unmoving on the rooftop and stared blankly at the red coating the walls.
Instincts awakening like buried seeds growing saplings under his skin, he pressed his fingertips to the left corner of his visor and let it flash bright. He shut his eyes temporarily blinded as the flash went off and the visor took a picture of the message on the wall.
He should be doing something. Searching for the villains, dropping to the floor and deliberately picking up the glass bottle shards, trying to decode the message left in red below the bloodied number high and proud on the wall. But the air remained still as stone as he sat there unmoving on the rooftop.
Nobody came by the place to make out or do anything at all. Maybe they all felt it, and had no intention of dealing with it again after Dementis ruined their perfectly good peace of mind and sense of safety.
The air turned warm and humid again. A shadow moved near the green glowing glass shards sprawled on the floor. The Grim Reaper shifted from his seat. The way the weight lifted off his shoulders indicated he knew who was appearing.
“What in the-” Lunaire jumped back as soon as he emerged from the dark.
“Hello Moony.” He waved his hand, his voice felt hollow even to him, “Best to sit away until the green recedes.”
He couldn’t see the vigilante’s face but he could picture the unamused scowl he was wearing. Sirius’ mouth quirked upwards as he gestured for the vigilante to sit beside him.
“What in the world is this?” Moony asked in shock, suddenly remerging beside Sirius.
He shrugged, trying to pretend it wasn’t shaking him to his very core, “A warning? A message? I cannot investigate yet.”
The streets brightened green foam. Not mist or fog, but a semi aqueous green gunk that certainly was not safe. The vigilante stared at the blood on the walls. The message written on it. Even through the mask the hero could see his jaw clench as he fought the urge to not be sick.
“What do you mean you cannot investigate yet?” He demanded.
“Use your brain, Moony. The green is a Greek fire of some kind. One touch and we burn instantly. Best to wait out until it slowly fades into the air.” The Grim Reaper answered.
“And you just know that off the top of your head?” He pried, sounding impressed.
Sirius nodded but stayed quiet. He did know that off the top of his head that it was a type of Greek fire. Most hero trainings just informed that if you saw something green and glowing it was best to not be anywhere near it. It was insane how many types of chemical green muck heroes came across.
The silence hung heavily as Lunaire observed the space. His blindfold was lower than it had been last time Sirius had seen him. His eyebrows were showing slightly. He noticed there was a scar splitting one of the man’s eyebrows just small enough to stroke with a finger.
“Did you fight any villains?” He turned his head to look at the hero, his gaze burning through his white blindfold.
‘Checking for wounds.’ The hero noted mentally. Heat rose to his cheeks as he shook his head, his arm reaching for Lunaire’s face to turn it back to the bloodied wall.
“I am fine. I didn’t even see them, Clytemnestra and Agamemnon. They left before I reached here.” He assured him.
“Fuck. Shit. Clytemnestra and Agamemnon? Those villains are monsters.” Lunaire sucked in a sharp breath.
Sirius nodded. But a sort of sinking feeling twisted in his gut.
Clytemnestra. His cousin. She was a monster, but she had also been a girl. He recalled the most vulnerable version of her he had seen. The most broken, the most family.
A half-hazy memory of a young blonde teenager came to view. She was fifteen with her face in a pillow. Her older sister, Andromeda, was sitting next to her on the pink-curtained bed with a hand on the girl’s back.
Sirius must have been twelve then. He brought out a steel goblet with ice water that Andromeda had asked him to fetch. He didn’t know why she was crying but he obeyed anyway.
“I c-cannot believe it! I just cannot! Six years he was betrothed to me and I…he was betrothed to me and I almost thought he liked me! I thought we would be the first…I thought we would be the first to like being husband and wife.” She sobbed into her pillow.
She raised her head up from the pillow. Sirius had to stifle a giggle at how she looked with her mascara smudged and streaming down, her pink lipstick (which her mother despised) smudged everywhere from her face to her hair and pillow.
From what he knew of it, some rich bastard she had been arranged to marry long ago had found some other girl even his family deemed suitable enough for him and they broke the arrangement with his cousin.
He closed his eyes, trying to block out the blood and present time and relive the memory a little longer, but it was short-lived as he remembered how she had insulted him and splashed the ice water on his face and threw the goblet at the wall next to him. Whatever moments he had with Clytemnestra were just fragments like the shards below.
Could that girl that cried her heart out over some boy she barely spoke to getting another betrothed write the writings and do the deeds she had done?
Yes. She could and she did. There was an ache in his chest, like a lump forming making his heart hurt to beat. His breathing sored but a presence next to him made his eyes flash open again.
“Are you alright?” Lunaire asked.
It felt odd. The first thing a hero was always supposed to ask were about the area and the dangers. But Lunaire certainly couldn’t be considered a hero.
Before Grim Reaper could answer the vigilante’s head popped up. He was reminded of a hunting dog, turning it’s head to a sudden noise only it could hear. Only he looked more like prey than predator.
“I have to go.” Lunaire said, voice grim and reluctant, “I can hear your hero mates.”
Huh. Even Sirius hadn’t heard them. But if he paid close enough attention he could hear Knight flying through the night clouds. He turned to the vigilante who was walking back to the other side of the shop to get off on the proper street. His shadow warping must have run out again or whatever.
Sirius opened his mouth and the man must have heard him, because they both paused.
“About the message.” He informed, feeling a little stupid, “Me and the heroes will have it handled. I promise.”
The vigilante hesitated. Sirius knew that was a bad thing to say already to a criminal but his pride shrivelled up and died as Lunaire began to shake his head no.
“Don’t promise me things so out of your hands, Padfoot.” He sighed before jumping in style off the shop’s roof.
He disappeared before Sirius could ask him where he got that nickname from.