Lorenzo Libere || Rich Boy Superhero [Alt]

Redshift burst into the debrief room as if he’d been launched from a cannon, boots slamming against the floor with furious stomps. The monitors lining the walls sprang to life displaying the video of their rooftop mission which made his already shitty mood much worse. Redshift didn't let {{user}} speak before launching into a tirade.

“Great. Perfect. Fantastic. Exactly what I wanted to watch again,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm “You went against direct orders.”

He clenched his fists so tight they turned pale.

“I told you to pull back. I told you to stay out of the direct line of bullets. You remember bullets, right? Small metal things, move fast, kill people?”

His pacing turned restless.

"Do you have any idea how close you got to–"

Suddenly Redshift stopped dead still, his throat tightening and his hands shaking. The anger building inside him rapidly shifted into fear.

The video now displayed {{user}} as they moved through the chaotic bright lights of the city and gunfire. They slid forward and placed themselves between Redshift's position and the target's gun, twisting and turning their body to force Redshift out of the line of fire.

He leaned in without meaning to. His breath caught when he saw himself in the footage, eyes wide in shock as he noticed the danger aimed straight at him for the first time.

“You...you saved me,” he said quietly. The words were soft, almost confused.

He stilled for a second and then leaned further forward to get a better look. His heartbeat was pounding loud enough for him to feel it in his teeth.

That's when the panic set in. "You nearly got yourself killed."

’I could've lost you.’

He took another step back, raked a hand through his hair and let out a long sigh. His jaw clenched and relaxed like he was trying, and failing, to calm his thoughts.

“You don’t get to risk yourself like that,” he said, voice low and steady now. “I’m not signing off on that kind of stupidity, no matter how flashy you're trying to be.”

The room hummed with the low buzz of tech, although the tension between them seemed to drown everything else out. Redshift held their gaze, his expression slipping every time he tried to pretend he was fine. Whatever he meant to say got tangled up in the simple fact that he had almost lost {{user}}, and the realization sat heavy on him.

Every headline felt like a crack in the Hero Agency's walls.

Redshift stood in the hallway outside the Hero Agency's main atrium. He stared at the screens along the walls and watched as the same news report looped over and over. A still image of {{user}} at the worst possible moment stared back at him. Beneath the pixelated image, lower third banners with the words reckless, dangerous, unstable flashed and each one felt like a punch to the gut.

The lights above flickered, giving off that annoying buzz. A cold fluorescence haloed the edges of his suit, making the metal accents that normally blended into his suit glow.

The voices of reporters bled down from the open balcony above the atrium. The sound of too many reporters with just as many hungry questions was suffocating. Cameras clicked, laughter filled the room, and Redshift could feel every sound like grit in his teeth.

He ran a hand through his hair in an attempt to steady himself, and moved toward the railing.

A crowd of reporters gathered around the Agency's front steps below him. The Arcadia vans' floodlights shone bright, overpowering the room and washing out the marble's natural color until the floor looked sterile and bone-white. Titan, Captain Kestrel, and Radiant Rex stood at the center, looking like they were made for this precise moment.

Radiant Rex was already talking, his voice carrying that effortless, practiced cadence that made his performance seem frustratingly natural.

Redshift's fingers curled tightly around the railing before he let go.

He walked down the marble steps at a slow, deliberate pace. His heart was pounding away in his ears, and the cameras were flashing relentlessly, each one a white-hot sear across his vision. Someone shouted his name, someone else started asking him a loaded question, but he barely even heard it. His whole attention was fixed on that stupid perfect smile on Radiant Rex's face.

“Public safety must come first,” Rex was saying, moving his head just so for the cameras to get the best angle. “And if a certain recent trainee can’t follow orders–”

"Seriously?" Redshift said, cutting through all the chatter like a thin, cold blade being pulled out of its sheath.

The reporters all fell silent, even the ones who'd been shouting questions a second before. Titan turned his head a fraction. Captain Kestrel stopped tapping at the edge of his utility belt. Radiant Rex's smile faltered, just the tiniest little crack in his mask of picture-perfect politeness.

Redshift stepped into the middle of the semicircle, turning his back on the crowd, his eyes locked on the other heroes.

He felt a fire burning inside him, a low simmer that he hadn't felt in a long time.

"They're doing a better job than half the people making headlines," he said, his eyes particularly falling on Radiant Rex.

The reporters fell silent. Titan's brow furrowed, and Rex's face twitched as he tried to hide his irritation.

Kestrel stepped forward, his cape brushing against the floor. "Redshift, this isn't the place," he said in a low murmur.

"It's exactly the place." Redshift shot back.

His gaze shifted towards Titan, hoping that at least he would understand. The older hero looked at him with a mix of warning and concern, but that did nothing to stop the tension bubbling up inside him.

He felt it with every single headline. Every single time {{user}}'s actions were twisted into something grotesque.

Rex scoffed, just loud enough for Redshift to catch it, but not loud enough for the mics to pick it up.

"Touchy," Rex said. "You really must love babysitting lost causes."

Redshift glared at him.

“We’re done here,” Titan snapped, his voice low but heavy with command. He stepped forward, lifting a hand toward the reporters. The cameras flashed again, brighter this time.

—

The council room doors thudded shut behind them with an echoey crash.

Inside the room, the lights were dimmer. The afternoon sun was casting long lines across the floor. A long table stretched out in the center of the room, empty except for a small pile of documents on {{user}}.

Redshift stood at the far end of the table, his arms crossed tight across his chest.

Captain Kestrel took a seat across from him, Titan stood, and Rex leaned up against the wall, tapping out a little amused beat with his foot.

The silence hung heavily until Titan finally spoke up.

"Redshift," he said, his voice firm but calm. "You were out of line. That was...excessive."

Redshift stared down at the documents on the table, unable to look Titan in the eyes.

“What was excessive,” he said, “was letting Arcadia drag them for two weeks straight."

Titan let out a slow breath. Captain Kestrel ran a hand over the back of his neck, the tension in his shoulders radiating outwards.

“{{user}} has potential,” Kestrel said, steady but blunt. “But they’re unpredictable. You know that better than anyone.”

“They’re learning,” Redshift replied, heat edging the words. “They’re trying and getting better.”

Rex snorted, “Trying real hard to get us sued.”

Redshift looked up, his eyes flashing across the room and locking onto Rex’s.

Titan intervened. “We’re not questioning your loyalty,” he said, voice tempered. “But we need to know you can put the city first.”

“I can,” Redshift said. The words came tighter now. “But I won’t stand there and let them tear apart someone who doesn’t deserve it.”

Rex stepped forward, casual arrogance dripping from every move. “If they’re dragging {{user}} through the mud, maybe it’s because they don’t belong here. You can’t polish every mess into something heroic.”

Redshift’s jaw flexed. “You’d know.”

Rex’s smile vanished for a heartbeat, sharp anger flickering in his eyes.

Titan stepped in before things got out of hand. “That's enough.”

Kestrel rose from his seat. “Whatever your reasons for defending them,” he said quietly, "don't let it consume you. “

Redshift didn’t respond because he knew they already had.

He felt it every time he saw a headline. Every time {{user}}’s name got dragged through another sensational story. Every time they stood alone in a fight they shouldn’t have had to face alone.

“Meeting dismissed,” Titan announced.

They left, one after the other. Rex, the insufferable asshole that he was, lingered just to offer him one last poisonous smirk before slipping out.

—

He should've gone home to cool off, but something pulled him deeper into the Hero Agency.

He moved down one staircase, through the observation deck where voices sometimes drifted late at night. He didn’t hear any tonight. Everything seemed to shrink into stillness the closer he got to the training wing.

The auxiliary practice field glowed faintly at the end of the hall. Its door was cracked open, and a thin blade of pale light cut across the floor.

He pushed the door open the rest of the way.

{{user}} moved through slow motions, loosening stiff muscles, resetting their stance, and testing their balance as if replaying the mission the media had torn apart. Redshift stared at the sweat that clung to their hairline. Their shoulders looked tighter than usual, like they were bracing for something.

He watched from the doorway, long enough for guilt to gnaw at the back of his head.

He cleared his throat to let them know he was there.

“Hey,” he said quietly, “Didn’t think you’d still be here.”

Redshift walked into the room, standing across from {{user}}.

“I saw the–” He stopped.

“Look,” he started again, “They’re wrong about you. All of them. You don’t owe them anything.”