Adir stared out at the city from the rooftop of a quiet office building. His glazed eyes watching the city come to life in the early hours of a cold February morning. He waited atop the building, anticipating a flash of dark brown hair, waiting to see a soft smile. Adir sat quietly with his jacket pulled around him tightly and gloved hands shoved into his pockets. He’d found this spot when he first moved into the city. Starry-eyed and young, he’d sat atop this rooftop watching the city come alive. Eventually it became a part of his routine, long after he’d lost the stars he continued coming up here. He’d reminisce sometimes, or he would simply sit there listening to the monotone thoughts of everyday people.

The hours ticked by and the sun blazed down on him in mockery, offering no heat. His powers sat idly, tuning out the thoughts of the people below him. 

At 10:37, Adir got up, a feeling of dread pooling in his stomach. 

He jumped over to the rooftop in front of him and kept moving. Leaping over chasms that led to dirty street fights and an occasional drunk drowning his sorrow till the sun appeared. He ran through rooftop gardens, briefly admiring the twisting vines and blossoming flowers in slightly crumbly pots. Pink, yellow, gray, blue all raced by as he bounded across the city until he reached the building he was searching for.

He jumped onto a windowsill, balancing precariously on the edge. He reached for the next one and pulled himself up and then once again until he was standing on the rooftop of an apartment building. The blue paint had faded with time and he could see red brick in some spots. Adir glanced around taking in the rooftop. He’d been up here once or twice, but he had never paid attention to what it looked like. 

There was a tent set up next to the door with lights hanging around it. Flowers and other various plants littered the area. A community garden he guessed. 

Adir approached the tent cautiously. Something curious fluttered in his chest as he reached out for the tent flap. 

Adir pulled it open and was sorely disappointed to find it devoid of human life. 

Inside, the tent was bursting with things. There was a worn record player, comics, books and piles of blankets. He recognized the curved handwriting that covered pages spilling out of a journal. Adir picked up the journal holding it like it was a fragile artifact that would crumble if he misplaced his hand even slightly. It was a simple leather bound journal with an etching of a peony flower on the cover. Adir opened it, scanning the pages. Inside there were pages and pages of notes on all kinds of flora. Adir could recognize some that he used in his cooking and others that grew in his backyard. Some had foreign sounding names that he’d never heard of before. 

Adir gently closed the journal and placed it back with the other books, what seemed to be a collection of journals really. He turned around and examined the other side of the tent. He glanced at the drooping lights hung up on the tent wall, matching those on the outside. Newspaper clippings were hung in between the bulbs.

Adir reached out, pulling one of the clippings off the wire. 

It was a cutout of “The Diem Chronicles.” In bold black the headline screamed “HYPNOSE STRIKES ONCE AGAIN, THE CITY IS LEFT IN CHAOS” Underneath was a picture of him standing perfectly still on a building amidst flying debris and screaming people. A wicked grin stretched across his face and even without any color in the picture you could tell his eyes were glowing with power. Adir grinned triumphantly, he’d held the entire city in the palm of his hands. His eyes skipped to the next clipping. 

“A NOTE FROM HYPNOSE THROWS INVESTIGATORS FOR A LOOP”  and the next “HYPNOSE BRUTALLY ATTACKS CITY HALL; MAYOR LEFT REELING” and on and on it went, clippings from Aurora Record, Lodestar Times, The Daily Emerald, The Evening Era. All of them detailing their fights, or his attacks. Why had they decided to put up all these pictures? All these pieces of their story. His eyes dragged over each one and it hit him that they were all in chronological order. He reached for the first clipping and gasped softly. It was maybe 5 years old by now. 

“EPIC BATTLE BETWEEN AUSPICIOUS HERO SUNRAY AND ASPIRING VILLAIN HYPNOSE” Adir stared at the picture underneath the headline. They were staring at each other with eager hatred and ambition. Adir was above them reaching out with his hands trying to grab them while they crouched low ready to intercept him. How did they even get this clipping? The newspaper had been bought off the streets within the first 12 hours. Everyone wanted to know about the up and coming rivalry. He clipped the piece of history back up on the wall. As he surveyed the clippings on the wall he saw the same curved handwriting in the corners of the paper.

How do I hide my thoughts from him? He knows every move I make before I make them

Need to find his tell for attacking

How does he make these stupidly strong inventions? Where does he get the parts

I FOUND HIS TELL! HIS EYE TWITCHES EVER SO SLIGHTLY

I wonder what he’s like when he isn’t trying to blow up the civilians?

BREAKTHROUGH: He gets his parts from the old trash plant

I FOUND HIS BASE

Does he wear contacts? I mean no one’s eyes can be that green…

I FIGURED IT OUT. I KNOW HOW TO HIDE MY THOUGHTS. 

Adir swallowed heavily, feeling oddly disconcerted by the clippings on the wall and the feeling that no one had been inside this tent in days. Everything was a mess, and there was nothing that really indicated that no one had entered the tent in days, nothing except for the fact that the air was too still. And there had been a thin layer of dust over the journal, which had struck him as particularly odd. From the way the journal had been left out, unlike the other books which had been half-tidily stacked away into the corner of the tent, Adir knew it was probably written in often.

He pushed his way through the tent flaps once again and glanced around, looking for anything that might deter him from what he was planning to do next.

Nothing caught his eye and he groaned under his breath.

Adir clambered down the side of the building, using window ledges as footholds and passing by like a shadow, careful to make very little noise.

Once he landed in the alley, Adir turned around and made his way to the front of the building and walked in through the front doors.

He schooled his face into friendliness as he made his way to the security guard that sat behind the front desk.

“Hi! I’m here to see my friend but he isn’t answering his phone, do you think you could let me up to see him?” Adir asked, giving a friendly smile and wave to the tired looking man.

“What’s his name?” The guard asked, looking him up and down.

“Zyair,” Adir replied easily. He hated that he knew, he hated the feeling that his knowing was directly tied to why that goody-two shoes wasn’t anywhere to be found this morning.

“Yeah, just head on up to floor 6 then,” The security guard said, nodding past him to the elevators. Adir smiled amicably and bid him a friendly goodbye.

The smile slipped from his face the minute he entered the elevator. He leaned against the railing on the back wall, glaring at the gray steel elevator doors.

He shouldn’t be here, he should never even have known where this stupid idiot lived. It wasn’t right, heroes and villains don’t know that about each other.

They don’t know each other’s civilian identities, they don’t know where the other lives, and they definitely do not care if the other one doesn’t show up for morning patrol.

Adir stepped out onto the 6th floor with his heart in his throat and dread eating him alive.

He approached the first door and knocked. His foot tapped against the linoleum floor impatiently.

His eyes widened and something akin to relief flooded him when the door began to open.

It crashed down around him abruptly when the person who came to the door was a confused looking woman with her hair in a bun and comfy looking pajamas with red heart print.

“Can I help you?” She asked, looking at him with a skeptical eyebrow raised. He forced a sheepish smile onto his face, pushing through the layers of heavy emotions laying over his shoulders.

“Hi sorry, I’m here to see my friend. I guess I knocked on the wrong door,” He laughed awkwardly. The woman made a small “ah” noise and glanced over his shoulder at the door behind him.

“Oh, Zyair right? I haven’t heard any noise from that apartment in a while, so I’m glad you’re checking on him. I was planning on it, but we’re not super close,” She said and shrugged her shoulders.

“Ah, right. Well, sorry to bother you.” He nodded at her and turned away as the door closed. 

“Please be home, please just have overslept,” He muttered as he raised his hand to knock on the door.

He knocked once, twice, and then a third time. 

He waited. Then, he knocked again and waited again.

Nothing happened, there was nothing. No sounds of human life, no voices, no rustling. Adir’s breath stopped as he reached for the door knob.

He twisted. He pushed.

The door fell open.

Adir stepped inside and knew he was right.

The entire space looked spotless, like it hadn’t been lived in for days. There was that telltale thin layer of dust collecting on the surfaces. Everything had been put away properly, books, remotes, even the tissues were stacked and arranged perfectly in their holder.

Adir wandered further in, a chill settling into his skin as he examined everything he could see and everything he couldn’t see.

He could see that this place used to be lived in, if the blanket draped over the back of the couch and the scuff marks on the coffee table were any indication.

He couldn’t see why this place had been left in such a clean condition. Did Zyair know he wasn’t coming back?

Adir’s heart stuttered to a stop in his chest and he froze in the threshold to the kitchen.

Was Zyair…was he not coming back?

Adir’s world seemed to narrow in an instant. Suddenly it was just him standing in the middle of an apartment that wasn’t his, chest constricting over someone he was supposed to loathe.

Adir stumbled into the back of the couch, grabbing onto it for support as he tried to expel the panic tingling in his arms.

The soft fabric of the couch helped, and the smooth texture of paper jolted him from his head.

Paper was unexpected.

Why was he feeling paper, couches weren’t made of paper.

Adir curled his hand around the feel of paper and yanked it from the crevices of the couch where it had been hidden.

It was small, folded, and white.

Adir ignored his trembling hands as he unfolded the paper and smoothed out the creases as best he could.

In hasty, curled handwriting, there were a couple of words on the paper.

They fixed nothing.

They made everything twice as worse.

Don’t come looking for me, they have come for their lamb