Viper's POV

‘I know what you were thinking. Why does Viper, someone we barely know, get a whole chapter to himself? Well, it’s simple. I am the best, and if you disagree, then you're definitely the problem. Anyway, the author is so stingy and she’ll probably only give me a short chapter, so don't get too worked up about it.’

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Ever since I met Arachne three weeks ago, my life had taken a turn for the better. Some might have found it dull—spending long hours in combat, sustaining bruises and scrapes, grabbing quick bites from food trucks, engaging in casual conversations, and then heading to sleep (not that I did, thanks to my insomnia)—and then doing it all over again day after day. But honestly, I couldn’t have been having more fun. As much as it pained me to admit, I was really glad I had met Arachne. I might have even considered him a friend, but I’d never actually have said that out loud; I didn’t want to inflate his already massive ego.

At that moment, we were locked in a fight with Havoc. We had been at it for two hours, and it was getting painfully monotonous. I just wished he’d leave us alone so I could have spent more time with Arachne. ‘Wait, what?’, I thought, shaking my head to dispel those peculiar thoughts. ‘What was I saying?’

“Viper, focus! Havoc is on my case!” Arachne’s voice crackled through the comms.

I tried not to laugh, but I couldn’t help myself. “On it, Arachne! Just try not to get too banged up.”

“Stop calling me that, you jerk,” Arachne shot back, but I could tell he was smiling, which made me grin.

I came across Arachne, lying on the ground while Havoc was cackling uncontrollably beside him, acting like the oddball he was. I couldn’t understand why Havoc seemed fixated on Arachne and why he found the situation so amusing. I was ready to get rid of him for good, but I could never seem to catch him alone. Whenever I did, Arachne was right there, and I just couldn’t bring myself to do it with him watching, especially since he was all about avoiding violence and that sort of thing. Plus, he didn’t trust me very much to begin with. I really didn’t want to jeopardise the little bit of trust he had in me.

I managed to kick Havoc away and help Arachne to his feet.

“You good?” I asked him.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Arachne replied, then suddenly waved his hand in alarm, pointing behind me.

“Viper, look out! Havoc is—” Before he could finish, I turned and threw a punch right at Havoc’s face.

My fist connected hard, and I pulled back to see blood staining the purple area of my suit. Gross. I’d broken his nose; he staggered back, wincing in pain.

“I’ll be back, and next time you won’t be so lucky!” he spat.

‘Yeah, whatever,’ I thought. He was so unoriginal—and wasn’t he, like, 60? After a few more beatings, I bet he’d have dropped dead, making my job a whole lot easier.

After he left, I turned to Arachne with a proud smile. “All in a good day's work, am I right?” I exclaimed, gesturing for a high-five.

Arachne looked at me with a blank expression. “You're kidding, right?”

I tried to lighten the mood. “Yes?” I replied, hoping to elicit a smile from him, but instead, Arachne just rolled his eyes.

I noticed the tension in Arachne's jaw as he spoke urgently. “Viper, Havoc is still out there. Once he gets better, he's coming back to hurt me, you, and innocent civilians.”

“Yeah, I know, but we can deal with that later. Let's grab a burrito and get some rest first,” I suggested nonchalantly.

Arachne's frustration was palpable as he emphasised the gravity of the situation. “Viper, this is serious,” he said firmly.

I nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I know it is,” I assured him.

Arachne couldn't hide his exasperation. “You're acting like this is just another Thursday for you,” he remarked, clearly annoyed.

I shrugged in an attempt to ease the tension. “We've been at this for three weeks, so it kind of feels like a routine now,” I explained.

Arachne let out a sigh. “I don't know how I put up with you,” he scoffed. “Whatever, I'm going home.”

Perplexed, I protested, “What? We're not getting burritos?”

Arachne shook his head. “You can get them yourself. Goodnight, Viper,” he uttered before vanishing into the darkness.

That evening, as I lay on my couch eating burritos inside my dimly lit apartment. – I couldn't bring myself to go to our usual spot without him – I felt an overwhelming sense of loneliness. It was like a part of me had been torn away, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't put it back. Although we hadn't fought, and I'm hoping Arachne will move past his little tantrum by tomorrow, I couldn't shake off the guilt that lingered within me. I could have taken things more seriously, as he suggested; the safety of innocent lives hung precariously in the balance due to the chaos wrought by Havoc.

As the night progressed, I came up with two potential solutions to my dilemmas. Firstly, figure out a way to either neutralise or contain Havoc so that no one else is in danger. Secondly, I realised I might have a slight attraction towards Arachne. Just a tiny one. Swiftly dismissing this notion, I was left musing over my colossal misstep, knowing that dwelling on it would only be a distraction from the pressing mission that lay ahead for me.

‘Wonderful. I just hope the author at least gives me some good music.’

**

The next time I saw Arachne was a week later. I had a feeling he’d been trying to avoid me, which, to my surprise, stung more than I wanted to admit. But of course, I ignored that feeling, pushing it down deep, where all inconvenient emotions go. When I spotted him, he was in the middle of trying to trap a group of robbers who were attempting to hit the bank. I decided to stay put, watching from a distance as he fought them off with his usual grace and precision.

There was something hypnotic about the way he moved, like a well-rehearsed dance. The end of his mask had ridden up slightly, leaving a sliver of his neck exposed. I couldn’t help but notice the beads of sweat trickling down his sun-kissed, tan skin. My gaze lingered longer than it should have, and before I knew it, a strange thought crept into my mind—I wondered what his sweat would taste like on my tongue.

‘Okay, author, what the hell?’ I mentally snapped, shaking off the unsettling thought. ‘Why are you making me think this? I’m not a fucking weirdo… Okay, maybe I am, but there's no need to broadcast it to the world.’

I debated with myself whether I should jump in and help him. But after a moment of consideration, I decided against it. He had it under control, as always. I figured I’d just swoop in at the end, play it cool, and offer to buy him some tacos.

After a few minutes of watching, Arachne finally hurled the robbers into a nearby building, rendering them temporarily paralyzed. He handed them over to the police with an air of nonchalance, like it was just another day at the office. That was my cue. I jumped off the building I had been perched on, landing silently behind him. With a mischievous grin, I crept up and placed my hands over his masked eyes.

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“Guess who?” I teased.

Arachne shuddered at my touch, and quickly stepped back, putting a few metres of distance between us. I frowned, puzzled by his reaction.

“Oh, um, hi, Viper,” he greeted, his tone awkward and guarded.

“Hi, Arachne!” I responded with forced enthusiasm. “I was watching you take down those robbers—well, not watching you, per se, but I happened to see you, and I couldn’t help but notice. The way you fight is really entrancing, but enough about that. Do you wanna go get tacos? My treat!”

He hesitated, glancing around nervously. “Oh, um, I’m busy, y’know, with everything concerning Havoc.”

I tried to mask the disappointment in my voice. “Yeah, but he’s not here right now, so let’s just pretend he doesn’t exist for a little bit.”

“I don’t know,” Arachne muttered, shifting uneasily on the balls of his feet.

“Please?” I blurted out, hating how desperate I sounded.

‘Seriously, what is this guy doing to me? I hate it.’

Arachne finally relented, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Yeah, okay. Just this once.”

Internally, I was practically jumping for joy when he said yes. I tried to keep my excitement in check, but the grin that spread across my face was impossible to hide, even through my mask. “I'm regretting this already,” he remarked, his tone half-joking, half-resigned.

I ignored his comment, waving him forward with an eager hand. Without even thinking, I placed my hand on his waist, the warmth of his body seeping through his suit. We began to leap from rooftop to rooftop, the city blurring beneath us as we moved. Arachne’s eyes went wide, his hands flailing in the air as he tried to grasp what was happening.

“What is happening?” he asked, his voice tinged with bewilderment.

“Just hold on,” I replied, trying to conceal the embarrassment creeping up my neck. I didn’t mean to get so close, but now that I was, it felt like the most natural thing in the world. His arms instinctively wrapped around my neck, and I felt a rush of emotions that nearly threw off my balance. I forced myself to focus on the leaps, even as my heart pounded wildly in my chest.

After what felt like a surreal few minutes, we landed on the ground near the Birria-Landia food truck, one of the best taco spots in the city. The savoury aroma filled the air as we grabbed our tacos, and before long, we found ourselves perched on a prime spot atop the Empire State Building, looking out over the twinkling lights of New York City.

“So, I haven’t seen you in a week. What have you been up to?” I asked, trying to spark a conversation and fill the comfortable silence with something more.

Arachne didn’t answer right away. Instead, he looked at me with a furrowed brow, his gaze intense and unreadable. “What? Do I have something on my mask?” I asked, puzzled by his scrutiny.

Without a word, he reached out, his fingers brushing against my cheek as he slowly removed my mask. My breath hitched in my throat, my pulse quickened at the sudden vulnerability.

“Why do you keep hiding your face?” he asked softly, his tone free of judgement. “I’ve already told you that it doesn’t matter. You’re beautiful; don’t be so insecure.”

For a moment, I was completely at a loss for what to do. My usual confidence evaporated, leaving me exposed in a way I hadn’t anticipated. He could see everything now—the small scars that littered my face, the fangs that jutted slightly from my mouth, the blood-red eyes that had always made people shrink away in fear or disgust. But he wasn’t doing either. He wasn’t running away, and he wasn’t recoiling. He was just looking at me, as if this were normal, as if I were normal.

The silence stretched between us, thick with unspoken words and the weight of the moment.

“Are you going to eat?” he asked, breaking the tension with a casual question that made me realise how tightly I’d been holding onto the anxiety.

I nodded, finally tearing my gaze away and turning my attention to the tacos in front of us. We ate mostly in silence, the only sounds being the crunch of the tacos and the distant hum of the city below. It was in that quiet moment that something dawned on me. I realised why I kept helping Arachne, why I found myself sharing meals with him nearly every day on top of the Empire State Building, and why I hadn’t tried to push him away when he removed my mask.

“How old are you?” I asked, my voice cutting through the stillness.

He looked at me, his eyes narrowing slightly in suspicion. “Why do you want to know?”

“Please, just tell me,” I urged, my tone more serious than before. “I promise I’ll answer one of your questions in return.”

He seemed to mull it over, his gaze searching mine for any hint of deception. Finally, as if swayed by my offer, he relented. “I’m 21.”

I let out a breath I hadn’t realised I’d been holding. A two-year age difference—that was something I could work with, something that made this complicated mess of feelings a little more manageable. For the first time in what felt like forever, I felt like the answers I’d been searching for were within reach.

‘I’m hopelessly in love with Arachne. The realisation is like a weight pressing on my chest, making it harder to breathe every time I’m near him. It’s impossible to hide, especially from someone as sharp as he is. Sometimes, I catch him giving me these curious looks, and I can’t help but wonder if he already knows. It’s frustrating—just when I start to feel something for him, he always manages to steal the spotlight, leaving me floundering in his wake.’

“It's my turn,” Arachne said suddenly, his voice cutting through my thoughts. I felt a lump form in my throat, my heart skipping a beat as the words hung in the air.

What was he going to ask? My mind raced with possibilities. Would he ask about the scars that mar my skin, the unnatural redness of my eyes, or the fangs that sometimes peek out when I’m not careful? I’ve let him see those parts of me, the ones I usually keep hidden from the world, but explaining how I got them is another story entirely.

“What do you do?” he asked, catching me off guard.

I froze. “What do you mean?”

He let out a sigh, his gaze steady and unwavering. “I mean, you've never told me what you do for work. Whenever I try to ask, you always change the topic.”

I could feel my pulse quicken, a nervous energy bubbling up inside me. I reached up to scratch the back of my head, trying to play it off. “It's not that interesting, really.”

“So?” he pressed, his voice soft but insistent. “I don't care if it's not interesting. I want to learn more about you. Can't I?”

‘I wanted to tell him, I really did, but the truth lodged itself in my throat like a jagged piece of glass. How could I admit that I’m a mercenary, someone who takes lives for money? I was terrified that he’d hate me, that he’d stop talking to me, or worse—report me to the Noveas. I had to think of something, anything, to say before the silence stretched too long.’

“Well, would you look at the time,” I said, forcing a chuckle that came out too hollow. “I've got to go. You know, get my beauty sleep.” I gestured awkwardly to my face, hoping to lighten the mood.

I couldn’t bear to meet his eyes, so I turned to leave, preparing to jump off the ledge, when I felt a firm grip on my wrist. My heart skipped a beat as I looked back to see Arachne holding onto me, his brow furrowed in a scowl that made my stomach twist. All I wanted in that moment was to kiss away that scowl, to erase the frustration etched on his face. But I couldn’t, and it hit me like a punch to the gut that I was the one who caused it.

“I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked,” Arachne said, his voice low and filled with regret.

Fury welled up inside me, but it wasn’t directed at him. No, it was aimed squarely at myself. He shouldn’t be the one apologising. I’m the one out here killing people, hiding the darkest parts of myself from the one person I care about most.

“No, it's okay, really,” I said, trying to reassure him, though I knew my words sounded as hollow as I felt.

Arachne’s grip loosened, but he didn’t let go. Instead, he looked at me with quiet intensity, his eyes searching mine. “Can you tell me something about yourself, though? Anything you want,” he asked, his voice almost pleading.

I hesitated, the truth clawing at the inside of my chest. I wanted to give him something, a piece of myself that wasn’t tainted by blood and violence. After what felt like an eternity, I finally whispered, “My name’s Wade.”

Before he could respond, I pulled free from his grasp and took off, not daring to look back.

That evening, I collapsed onto my bed, my emotions crashing over me like a tidal wave. I buried my face in my pillow and screamed, cursing the world for making my life the way it is. If only I could go back in time, stop my father from ever meeting my mother, maybe then everything would be different. Maybe then, life would be perfect. But even as I thought it, a deeper part of me wondered if I would have ever met Arachne. Would it have been worth it?

‘Maybe, in some twisted way, it’s all for the better. I can’t let him get hurt because of me. He deserves so much more than to be loved by a foolish mercenary like me.’

Strangely enough, I managed to catch some sleep that night, but I’m pretty sure it was only because I cried myself to exhaustion. Imagine that—a 23-year-old man crying himself to sleep like a child.

‘God, I’m so pathetic.’

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Author's Note!

Hey, my Luvs! I really enjoyed writing this chapter from Wade/Viper's perspective, and I'm excited to create more in the future! I didn't anticipate his POV to be so long, but it is what it is. I hope you all liked this chapter. Have a wonderful day!