Crap. Crap. Crap. Someone had leaked her plans - it was bound to happen someday. Fabia anxiously jumped from car to car, fleeing as fast as she could. That ‘Chameleon’ numbskull was already catching up to her, and she hadn’t even been able to snatch yet! Maybe she should grab something while on the run, just to avoid coming home empty-handed. She glanced around the touristic streets that lead to and from the Isfet Museum : cafés and shops lined the sidewalk, along with stone flower pots and streetlights. Most of these streets were cut off from traffic and buzzing with pedestrians – meaning the only road that did allow vehicles through, the one Fabia was currently parkouring in, was all the more crowded, and slow. She leaped off the truck she was on top of and into a jewelry shop’s window front, smashing through the glass then slowing her fall down right at the last moment like she had practiced a thousand times. She swiped an expensive looking necklace, threw the shopkeep an air-kiss and by then had already pulled herself to the backdoor with lateral gravity, all in no more than ten seconds. Now in a quieter, tighter street, she could relax a little until those GHH dogs inevitably caught up to her.

Who the hell had sold her out? Had this been District 14, Kelly’s turf, she wouldn’t have been surprised in the least - but it wasn’t, and she’d been told the D12 captain was rather diligent, and adamant about being independent from other districts. She figured to think about it the other way around - who could’ve known? It was true that she had gotten… unwisely intoxicated at a gathering few evenings ago. Somehow making it unscathed, but with no memories of who she’d told what. As for who else was attending - C and B ranking robbers and moles, rogues and spies – thieves who’d stayed independent from Basilisk, MSW, Nozhnitsy and the rest, and were damn proud of it. They often had these little hangouts, giving each other a hand here and there. They weren’t formal allies or friends, barely knew each other - they just feared for what the Underground had become, with MSW, Nozhnitsy and even the GHH treating everyone like pawns and treating the place like their chessboard. The ‘little guys’ had chosen to stick up for each other. On paper, anyway. They still had their own little gangs and such – Frivole just did her own thing, however. One of those gangs was that little group of punks… Just yesterday, she heard, they’d gotten rid of-

She ducked – close call. A full trash bag had just been thrown her way. She jumped three meters up, gripping a wall gutter, and looked back down - Chameleon, now joined by two others. Some buzz cut brunette with heterochromia, and…

Well now.

“Ah, Shraaaaaapnel! Didn’t think we’d see you again, tr-” Fabia let herself fall back lightning fast to the ground to avoid another trashbag thrown to her face. Weren’t chameleons reptiles? So why was this one such a pest!? Regardless, at least she had her answer. That posh weightlifting blonde had another thing coming. She leapt to a balcony and wall-jumped away, giving him the middle finger as she left.

Felicio stayed dumbfounded for a bit while the other two ran after Frivole. He felt quite stupid for not realising it before. Duncan... was Shrapnel, a rather irrelevant B-ranking villain from District 9. He didn’t know much else about him, really. He never acted alone, playing a support role to his group, yet now here he was, joining the GHH for whatever reason. The blonde turned around and shot him a death glare. Right, the chase. He’d just have to ask him on the way – or rather, ask Brett to ask him on the way. Felicio began speed-walking after them. He couldn’t help but notice the many wires and lamps bolted onto the walls - these inner streets weren’t as well kept or fancied up as the larger arteries of traffic. The metallic gutters lining the rim of the roofs, which went down to the floor and into the sewer grates, also caught his eye. Frivole seemed quite fond of hanging onto them. Maybe if he just…

Fabia fell to the ground before she could brake, a sharp shock catching her off. Electric current? Looks like the dogs really were after her this time. She had to be careful. If she ended up paralyzed, that was the end of it. She leaped back up and ran along the wall, making sure to avoid anything that might conduct electricity. She reached District 12’s main avenue in a flash, all six lanes roaring of car horns and motors - they drove too fast, she couldn’t risk it. Instead, she hopped from shop front canopy to balcony canopy, using the charming stripped fabric roofs as impromptu trampolines - until one such platform broke under her weight before she could adjust it, and a lovely café date was ruined - or perhaps made more memorable - by an escape artist landing right on the table and squashing the pudding, sending it flying in the two lovers’ faces. She apologised with a head bow and rushed off. Not her finest moment. And now, she needed to go airborne once again before Chumpeleon, that coward Shrapnel and Zappy-Boy caught up to her.

“Brett. Where are you”, Felicio whispered, finally running after Frivole. “On a bus.”, he answered. “I’ve got her on sight, she’s walking up a building. Like, up the wall.

- If you used your ability on her, what do you reckon would happen?

- Well she’d fucking pop, duh! Let’s, like, not do that.

- I’m not sure, though. I don’t think it works the way we think it does, though.”

Brett frowned. “What do y-

- Shit, they’re coming back to get me. I’ll tell you later.” Brian was ran back towards Felicio and supplexed him, carrying him on his back before running back in Fabia’s direction. Bolt protested ; “Uh- Uhm-

- You’re too slow. Sorry pal.” He was still going just as fast as before despite the extra weight. Granted, Felicio didn’t exactly eat much, but it was still impressive. “Woah… sure you don’t have like, super strength or something?

- Nope! All hard work.” What a show-off. ‘Wow… that’s crazy!’ Brett murmured from beyond the earpiece - he didn’t actually understand what had been picked up, but he had a feeling Felicio was struggling.

“Wow, that’s- nuts!” Felicio mumbled. ‘Can’t even get it right when I let you cheat off of me, can ya, edgelord?’ Oh, shut it, fanboy.

Soon enough, they’d reached the car, with Duncan standing next to it. Brian let go of Felicio, who was infinitely glad to meet back with solid ground. Parson Chameleon slipped into the vehicle without wasting a second. Bolt shot a glance at Duncan. “Does he do this to everyone?” The blonde scoffed. “No. I think he just doesn’t like you.” And then he entered the car too. Felicio followed, disgruntled.

“So, was the plan always to chase after her in the car?

- Sure.”, replied Parson Chameleon, now driving. This wasn’t in the previous chauffeur’s contract, apparently.

“Then... why didn’t we get in straight away?

- Thought we could grab her right there and then without wasting time in traffic. If the chance’s there, you gotta take it, you know?

- Well that was mighty irresponsible.”, Felicio whispered, a tad too loudly. Brian had a little pout. ‘No, you’re supposed to be a fan of the guy!’’ Brett desperately protested from beyond the earpiece. To his credit, there was one key advantage to Felicio’s approach - he’d gotten Duncan’s attention, and he wasn’t going to let it go. “So… you’re Shrapnel?”

The blonde looked away. “Was.

- Sorry. But, uh, why’d you end up here?

- Hardly your buisness.

- Aren’t we supposed to be a duo?

- Like I said. I don’t plan on staying a C rank forever.

- Why? Because you were a B rank as a villain? Plenty of people go down in rank when making the switch, you know?

- No.

- Then why?

- Shut it.

- Just tell him, Duncan.” Brian intervened. “Or what? Are you just here to make ennemies right off the bat?” Duncan frowned. “...I don’t want to.

- What are you, ten?” Brian’s boisterous voice was genuinely intimidating when he wanted it to be. Neither Felicio nor Brett had expected the Chameleon to suddenly become so harsh. And yet, Duncan kept quiet.

“We’re here.” The car stopped. The whole road had been blocked off, to give Frivole less platforms to jump off of. She was there, casually laid on the roof, and apparently hadn’t noticed them yet. In fact, she looked at though she was waiting for them, likely to boast or taunt them further. Felicio looked around. Brett was in that crowd of bysanders, perfect. The one-eyed twin slithered off fast as a shadow, forced the helmet onto his brother, grabbed his jacket back and disappeared into the mass. “Procrastinating snake”, Brett mumbled under his breath - but in reality, he was glad to take over again. He was bored with anticipation, and Felicio was clearly not in the mood to act today.

“Okay - got all that, Bolt?” Brian looked in Brett’s direction, likely after explaining some plan or other that Felicio had missed out on. He blankly nodded. From how things had been unfolding so far, it likely barely involved him anyway.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

Duncan spoke up. “That’s not going to work and you know it.

- And why not?, Brian retorted without missing a beat.

- If I hit her, she dies. If I miss, we lose the element of surprise.

- Just don’t shoot too hard.

- It’s a gun, Brian.

- A fake one, surely?

- No.

- Blimey. That’s unfortunate.” Brian had returned to his nonchalant smile. “Well, your ability’s just telekinesis, innit? Doesn’t have to be bullets.

- Actually, it does. ‘Guided. Bullets’.

- Do they have to be fired from the gun, though?

- I don’t think so. But if I just throw it - What would the point even be? To lightly poke her?”

Fun as watching them argue was – it wasn’t - Brett had been intently to something else ‘Okay, here’s my theory. She can only change her gravity while she’s airborne. Like, she always needs to jump first, can’t just- float away while sitting or something. But she can’t modify it while she’s in the air. So like, rather than changing her own gravity, she has to ‘push’ against something. Which means if she can’t move, she can’t use her ability.’ Felicio was very observant, and knew a good deal about villains. Brett believed him in a heartbeat, even if he didn’t have much proof. He wasn’t known to second-guess. ‘So, if we go with that, and she’s not actually targeting herself… you can use your ability on her, so that whatever she tries to push against goes 'ka-boom' instead, and catch her offguard. The explosion’s blast shouldn’t kill her. I think. Depends, I guess. Maybe wait for her to jump off of another canopy or something.’ Okay, nevermind. Sure, Fel was smart and he believed him and all, - and he was likely more confident than he let on, worrying Brett needlessly was just his idea of humor - but this was way too risky. Like, if he was wrong, Frivole was dead. And the mission statement had made it clear that that was a no go.

“Fine, then, Parson! We’ll do things your way, then! But don’t come complaining to me later!” And with that, Duncan removed a bullet from his gun, threw it bare-handed, and his ability guided it to light bop Frivole’s forehead.

Ow. Fabia blinked. Oh, real funny, Shrapnel. First, he makes like a deserter, and now he throws rocks at her like it means anything. Condescending twat… She gave him a mocking laugh, tip toed along the roof, dancing around to avoid the dozen or so other bullets he threw her way. She’d been taken off guard at first ; but it was now clear to her that those amateurs didn’t have a shadow of a plan. In fact, she could probably afford to go back to the Museum, and they’d be none the wiser! She hoped onto a solar panel, and leaped away - or at least tried. Whereas she should have blasted off with her usual grace, she instead fell to the ground, leaving behind an exploded rooftop. She ripped her knee and face against the tarmac. Crap, crap, she had to- needed to- She stumbled back to her feet, running and trying desperately to use her ability, without results – no matter what she targeted, it blew up. Dragging herself onto a car, she finally managed to take off again, despite her broken ankle.

Dumbfounded by the impromptu blast, Brian and Duncan hadn’t followed after her in time - and Brett was too focused. The former two turned back to look at him. “Did you-

- Using the electricity in the solar panel, yeah.

- Why not the car too?

- Woulda died. And. Property damage.

- ...Fair enough.” Brian looked… genuinely impressed. Maybe that was just Brett’s wishful thinking applying too much meaning to his expression, but regardless – it made him feel nice.

“Let’s get back in the car. She’s leaving again, and heading out of the district this time.” Taking Bolt’s words as orders, the two larger men abided. Heh, this wasn’t so bad.

“So what’s the plan now?

- We catch up to her, and Duncan uses his ability again., Brian replied.

- ...second time’s the charm, or?

- No, I got an idea.” Duncan replied. Brett opened his mouth, only for Felicio to whisper to him again. ‘Ask him about the underground.’ Sigh… Well, he did help out just then. His brother could at least indulge his curiosity.

“Hey… Duncan, Pars- Brian. How… do you two know each other?

- Whaddya mean?, Brian replied.

- I mean, you… clearly do. I’m guessing that’s why you asked to be assigned to this mission, yeah?

- Aw shucks, you’re smarter than you look!” Brett and Felicio both frowned in sync, far apart as they were. That - was uncalled for.

”You’re right. We’ve sort of known each other a minute. I used to put him in his place back in the day.

- You never caught me.

- Well that ain’t what I said, is it?

- Pft.” Duncan seemed a lot more relaxed than before, somehow.

“So- you… know him from when he was a villain?

- Yep.

- Then… do you know why he-

- Fine. I’ll tell you. Rather that than Brian getting the details wrong…” Duncan finally intervened.

“Rude!

- Drive, Parson.” And Brian nodded.

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Duncan was born underground, beneath District 9, without a name or a clue. He wasn’t a rare case ; the Underground was a prime spot for the abandonment of unwanted newborns or toddlers that were too expensive to care for. In that sense, he was more fortunate than most ; he hadn’t ended up as a product in the organ trade, or worse. He survived off of pick-pocketing and the rare pity coin thrown his way - until his pre-teenage years, the development of his ability, and finally, the opportunity to join a gang.

Thinking back on it now, he never saw them as friends, but compared to his prior situation, he was blessed to have them. A roof to sleep under, food relatively frequently, basic things like that. He was almost naively grateful, at first. Though that sentiment of thankfulness faded with time, he always kept a sense of trust in the punks that took him in.

Duncan stopped, looked down at his hands, then away from Brett before continuing.

He stayed with them throughout the years. He could’ve left any time, really. He knew well enough how to take care of himself by then, and they didn’t have much of any influence in the gigantic Underground. But the idea never really even came to him. So he stayed.

12529, in some fancy restaurant, downtown in District 12. The gang was planning a robbery ; Duncan and his guided bullets were in charge of keeping an eye on the hostages, while the rest grabbed the cash and whatever they could. In retrospect, it was obvious that they meant to ditch him from the beginning ; but at least, they most likely didn’t expect him to die.

A moment’s inattention sealed his fate. One of the hostages, likely not a law abiding citizen themselves, pulled out a hand gun and shot - not at Duncan, like he expected and had prepared himself to deviate, but at the chandelier above his head.

Brett and Felicio were now both on the edge of their seat. “How did you live through that?” Duncan frowned. He clearly wasn’t too comfortable with how much interest his story had spawned in that GHH-brat. He turned around again. “Brian.”

“The” Parson Chameleon was sent to stop the gang – and though too late for that, he was just in time to jump after Duncan and push him out of the way of the falling chandelier. Although, he was shapeshifting at the time, so Shrapnel hardly couldn’t have recognised him as the boastful S-rank that had been after them for a while.

Soon enough, Duncan was arrested. Only then did he realise his gang had intentionally left him behind. He was quickly judged and sentenced ; 3 years with the right to parole, and AR within the first month.

Ultimately, he only served a week, and never even came close to ability removal. The reason was, once again, Brian. Naive and unaffected as he may have been, Duncan had already long realised through his many run-ins with the Chameleon that the latter had a thing for him. Even now, he still wasn’t sure if the reason Brian had saved him was his inner sense of heroism… or his second brain doing the talking.

“Oy! I’m here, you know? You don’t have to ridicule me in front of a fan, jerk!

- So you deny it?

- Well gee. You’re hot, point taken. But you were also a life in danger. Reckon even I know which one’s more important in that situation.” Duncan simply scoffed at his reply. For just a second, the blonde finally let out a hint of a smile. ”Regardless...”

Brian asked to visit him while in temporary holding several times. After refusing the first few demands, Duncan finally agreed to see him. It was then that Brian made his offer ; the absolution of his crimes and sentence, should he agree to join the GHH. The deal in itself was nothing unusual, of course, but the context was different. The proposition hadn’t come from a captain or higher up, but a simple hero. The GHH really only cared to make that kind of offer to S and A ranks, after all. But Brian had the kind of privilege and connections that allowed him to do this himself. And so… Shrapnel became Fragmental Patterns.

----------------------------------------

Brett stayed rather dumbfounded. He didn’t know what to think or say. After finishing his story, Duncan cracked his knuckles. “There you have it. I was a dumb thug, and the only reason I’ve lived to be here today is because Parson over there fancies me. Pathetic, I know. You happy?” Bolt took a minute to think on how to respond. “Yes, I am. Thank you for opening up to me, partner.”

Duncan seemed somewhat taken aback. “Oh, shut it. Like I said, this C rank’s only temporary.

- T’was the captain’s condition to allow him to join”, Brian explained. “Makes him ‘easier to survey’ or whatever. But he’s got what it takes to reach A rank, trust me!” and then he gave a nice, hearty laugh.

‘Well, come on, man! Ask him about it now before they change the subject!’, whinned Felicio through the earpiece. Brett gulped. “If… it’s not indiscreet… What’s the underground like?”

Duncan froze. “...Don’t get me wrong. I know that many underground-born just - love - the place. Just look at Frivole – ah. She wasn’t in my group or anything. But we met here and there. Doubt she liked me much. Likely thought of me as the naive tool I was. She revels in that ditch. I never did. It’s an entire city’s worth of walking corpses. It’s foul, and smells like it too. A battlefield maze with traps at every corner.” He looked down at his hands, they stuffed them in his pockets. “I know it sounds like I only took Parson up on his offer to save my own skin. But… I really don’t want to go back there. I… don’t want to let down this opportunity. I want to join the GHH.”

And with that, he stepped out of the car. They’d finally caught up to her.

Duncan emptied his pockets : another handful of bullets, which he hurriedly threw. Frivole, who’d stopped on a roof to rest her ankle, immediately shot to her feet and dodged them nearly as elegantly as before. Unfortunately, something had changed.

All while he talked, Duncan had also been preparing for their next stop. He’d tied fishing string - which he’d noticed in the car earlier - to bullets, thus creating a handful of ropes with bullets tied on either ends ; in other words, ropes he could control remotely with his ability. He hadn’t been meaning to hit Fabia at all ; her attempts at dodging only served to doom her further. In just a few seconds, she was strung up like a ham, tangled up in nylon string, and wound up tripping off the edge of the roof entirely. Thankfully, Brian caught her before she had another rough kiss with the concrete.

As she was stuffed into the car, Fabia shot one last cocky glare at that blonde prick, spitting in his direction. “Enjoy minimum wage, traitor.” He looked sorry, which only served to piss her off further. “From your point of view, probably.” Oh, was he actually asking for pity here? Go to hell!

“What, you’re going to claim you didn’t have a choice?

- No, I did. And this is the one I made.” Duncan closed the door. He couldn’t bare to face her any more. He turned around to face Brian, with the same death stare Frivole had given him, minus the mocking grin. “You’re just going to stand there and say nothing?

- What more d’you want from me? The law’s the law. I’m lucky, not all powerful. If I abuse my privileges, they’ll just take ‘em away from me.

- They’re going to sentence her to AR.

- No they won’t! She ain’t even killed no one, right? I’m sure she’ll be fine.

- Huh-huh.” Duncan got in the car without letting Brian continue.

Felicio disconnected his earpiece, and lay in bed, eyes staring up at the ceiling.