A/N: I changed the timeline a bit since seven days feel too little for too much change.
"Pffft! What are you, five?"
Max snorted at her airheaded blonde, who was still cooing with her hands pressed to her chest, visibly enthused by what could only happen in her fantasies. The last thing she needed after a long day at the shithole called Williamsburg was to listen to Caroline's endless chattering about her superhero fetish, but here she was.
"Oh, please! Like you haven't had such fantasies!"
She rolled her eyes, hating how right Caroline was.
Even she, in all her sarcastic and jaded glory, had dreamt of being in a relationship with a Cape before, but at least she had the sense to know such a fantasy would remain exactly that: Afantasy.
Caroline, on the other hand, still seemed genuinely… Hopeful?
It shouldn't be surprising, not with her upbringing, but Max thought Channing had grown out of her 'princess phase' by now.
"Oh sure, because nothing screams 'romance' quite like a guy who spends his nights rolling around in alleyways with criminals… The smell alone would kill the mood."
"I'm just saying! Imagine how romantic it would be if a hero just drops out of the sky, and I nurse him back to health! He'll be gruff at first, then slowly soften as our epic romance blooms!"
"Right, and then he disappears every night to fight psychopaths while you sit home wondering if he's coming back in pieces," Max sputtered, quickening her pace and forcing Caroline to chase after her until something—someone actually—fell out of the sky. Both girls yelped away from the concrete planters, or what remained of them anyway, glancing left and right, up and down for signs of a battle.
They breathed a sigh of relief when they found none. "What was that?!"
"Well, I guess you have your 'hero.'" Max mockingly taunted, but the sass did little to slow the pounding heart beneath her ribs.
'Curiosity killed the cat,' She told herself as Caroline pushed her toward the armored Cape, then threw all caution to the wind, because truth be told, the brunette was as curious as the blonde about the figure who had been just a meter short of crushing them both to paste. Only then did Max realize how... Short he was. "... Do you happen to be a cradle-robber?"
"What?"
"It's a sidekick." Max replied, then turned to the sky and demanded loudly, "I want a million dollars!!!"
The only power that answered her sincere prayer were crickets, never mind the fact it was already Autumn.
"Figured." She blew air out of her mouth, brushing back her hair as she leaned in for a closer look. "Scratch that—you have your 'villain.'"
Max couldn't think of a single hero who wore edgy black and red full-body armor with crimson skin and six unopened eyelids, nor one whose Shadow squirmed beneath them like a nest of serpents… The whole aesthetic screamed 'VILLAINY' if nothing else. Caroline, on the other, did not look as convinced; still eyeing the figure with curiosity. "We shouldn't judge a book by its cover, Max."
"Caroline, what do I look like?"
"A slutty, cynical waitress with no taste who'd give a handy in the last stall of the restroom for fifty bucks?"
It was an oddly accurate assessment for a girl who barely knew how to balance a checkbook, save the 'handy' part, but that didn't make the observation sting any less.
Max shot a withering glare at the blonde and resisted the urge to flip her off. "What am I, Caroline?"
"A slutty, cynical waitress with no taste who'd—"
The murderous look in Max's eyes finally shut Caroline up. "Exactly. When something looks like shit, smells like shit and feels like shit, you don't need to taste it to know it's shit."
Pulling Caroline along, Max couldn't quite bite back a sigh when the airhead wrestled free of her grip. "What are you doing?! We have gotta head home!"
"I should be asking you that! We can't just leave him here!"
"Well, do you have a car?"
"W-Well, no?" Caroline stuttered.
"Then what do you suggest—that we drag an armored Cape to our tiny apartment?"
"We can call a taxi?"
"Who's gonna give this—"
Gesturing at the random Cape, specifically at his inhuman features, Max continued. "A ride? What if his enemies follow us home…? What if he's a bad person?"
"What if he isn't?" Caroline shot back, and Max had to admit the airhead had a point… One that made her stomach churn uncomfortably. She was jaded, sure. Sarcastic, definitely.
But Max Black wasn't evil.
She'd been that kid once—alone, hurt, invisible to those who could've helped.
'Never bled that much before though.' Well, except for that time she got her period in white jeans during a double shift… Now that! That'd been a total fucking disaster.
Max looked at Caroline, then back at the motionless figure on the ground. Every instinct screamed for her to walk away, but it appeared her conscience had decided to be a real bitch tonight.
"This is such a bad idea…" She muttered, peeling off the threadbare trenchcoat she'd scored from Goodwill last Winter and draping it around the boy's shoulders. The thing barely fit her to begin with, so it looked like a blanket on the teenager—in layman's term: Perfect. "Well, c'mon!"
She dropped to one knee, jerking her thumb toward her back. "Piggyback ride time, Princess. And try not to let his pointy ears poke through the coat."
Two girls carrying what appeared to be a very oddly-shaped drunk guy would still be suspicious as hell, but it beat explaining why they had an unconscious, red-skinned, armored whatever-he-was slung between them. Caroline's face lit up like Christmas morning as she struggled to maneuver the limp form onto Max's back.
Her twig arms shook under the weight, nearly toppling all three of them sideways. 'Of course.' What had she expected from a former daddy's little princess who thought 'cardio' was French? Max gritted her teeth, feeling the kid's weight settle against her spine. 'Jesus, what do they feed these kids? Protein shakes?!'
Then he started sliding to the left. "Caroline, I swear to God—"
"I'm trying!" Caroline squeaked, frantically adjusting the coat to hide the more obvious non-human features.
"Well, try harder!" Max rolled her eyes and pushed herself upright, her knees protesting immediately. "If anyone asks, he's your very drunk, very weird little brother with a weird skin condition."
"What kind of skin condition—"
"The kind that's none of their fucking business." Max grunted, trying to pick up the pace before her legs gave out entirely. Step by step, she carried the boy through the empty streets, her breathing growing more labored with each block.
By the time they reached the third street corner, Max was huffing like a chain smoker climbing the Everest.
Her legs nearly gave out just as their building came into view.
Collapsing in front of their shared apartment, she gasped, the unconscious boy sliding sideways off her back. Dark hair plastered to her forehead by sweat from the trek upstairs, Max threw open the door with more force than necessary, then whipped around to glare at Caroline. "My spine has filed for divorce from the rest of my body. You carry him in."
Caroline's eyes went wide. "But I can barely—"
"Nope." Max held up a hand, backing away like the unconscious Cape might explode and leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. "I have done my good deed for the decade. You want to play Mother Teresa? Put those muscles to work, Princess."
Too exhausted to care about tact, Max rubbed her throbbing lower back and surveyed their cramped living space filled with hand-me-down furniture and thrift store finds.
She spread a ratty blanket on the couch, creating the world's most pathetic makeshift infirmary, then gestured at her handiwork. "There! Max Black Medical Center is officially open for business."
"This is harder than it looks…" The blonde panted, just barely propping the kid up by the shoulders.
"Welcome to my world!"
It took a solid five minutes of grunting, sweating, and creative cursing she had learned from Max herself, but the airhead finally got the Cape through the doorway, kicking it shut behind her.
Collapsing forward, the blonde deposited him onto the couch in what could… Generously be considered a… Controlledfall.
"At this rate, you will finish him off before his enemies get the chance."
Caroline shot her an indignant look. "I got him here in one piece, didn't I?"
Max rolled her eyes but said nothing else, pawing at the chestplate instead. 'Wonder how much I can get for this at the pawnshop…'
"Hey, hey! What are you doing?!"
"Getting him out of that stupid armor, what else?" Max growled, then caught the scandalized look on her roommate's face and gasped in realization. "What, you think I'm—really, Caroline?!"
"I just thought—"
"You thought wrong. I'm trying to keep him alive, not cop a feel from an unconscious kid. Jesus!"
Clawing at the armor's clasps and seams, Max fell back on the couch with a frustrated thud. "Well, that thing's bolted up tighter than Fort Knox."
"Maybe we should get professionals on the job?"
"Do you happen to have Green Lantern's number?" Max shot back sarcastically.
"I was thinking we could get him to the hospital?" Caroline suggested, wringing her hands.
"How's that any different from leaving him on the street to get dissected by some government lab?"
"Well, what else are we supposed to—"
After nearly fifteen minutes of heated back-and-forth, with the blonde insisting hospitals were the responsible choice while the brunette painted increasingly dire scenarios, they both suddenly spotted movement from the corner of their eyes.
They hurriedly backed away, trembling as the Shadow writhed and stretched in ways that defied every law of physics they knew, not that either of them knew much to begin with… But still.
"I knew this was a bad idea," Max muttered, watching the Shadow crouch over the guest.
The thing looked rather similar to the unconscious Cape but with lanky, elongated limbs, six glowing eyes and a mouth so wide its head looked ready to fall clean off.
Inside, crimson motes swirled, and Max could even faintly make out the shapes what appeared to be humanoid shapes being broken down. Hiding behind her, Caroline let out a strangled gasp, pushing the brunette toward the demon. "I'm too skinny, don't eat me! Take her instead!"
Max's jaw dropped. "Thanks a lot, roomie."
ignoring their panic, the shadow waved a dismissive hand at Caroline's shrieking, then turned its attention to the boy on the couch.
"Oh, great. Now we're annoying the Demon." Max whispered, slowly inching toward the door as the thing reached down and started peeling off the boy's armor with surprising care.
Within moments, it had stripped the Cape, revealing beat-up dark clothing torn in various places underneath.
Blood seeped through the fabric onto the blanket in spreading dark stains, then soaked into the couch cushions, dripping steadily to pool on the floor below.
Even the discarded armor pieces were slick with blood, their surfaces reflecting the overhead light in a wet, crimson sheen. Only then did the girls notice the new bulbs above had begun to flicker erratically, casting the room in strobing shadows.
The shadow pointed at the bleeding boy as though to say 'Take good care of him,' then flickered and dissolved, leaving behind two terrified girls and a coppery scent that made Caroline gag in disgust. "S-Should we approach him?"
'Great. Just fucking great.' Max took a shaky step forward. 'So our options are: help the bleeding mystery boy and maybe live, or stand here like idiots and definitely die when his pet comes back…' The math was simple, even if it blew chunks: That thing had just ripped apart armor that weighed a solid fifty kilograms like it was wrapping paper.
It could snap their necks without working up a sweat.
If it wanted them to play doctor, saying no really wasn't an option.
"Caroline, when this goes sideways and gets me killed, I'm totally haunting your ass."
The blonde looked close to tears. "What? Why me?!"
"For dragging me into this!" They bickered some more, but eventually Max forced herself to approach the couch, palms slick with sweat. She tip-toed forward, then leaned over only to freeze when her brown eyes met the Demon's plastered on the carpet below.
Its six eyes tracked her movement while its mouth hung slightly open, revealing the swirling red motes inside.
It didn't blink.
It didn't move.
It simply watched her like a cat still deciding whether to pounce on a mouse.
A single wrong move, and it'd be her last.
'Okay, Max,' Max thought, trying to keep her breathing steady. 'Just pretend it's a really ugly customer at the diner. Smile, nod, and don't do anything stupid.'
The shadow tilted its head slightly, and Max's heart jumped to her throat, but it made no further move, seemingly content to observe. Her eyes swept over the boy next, taking in his pale face and white hair before dropping to his torso, gasping.
His entire chest had been riddled with bullet holes, and what she'd initially mistaken for a red shirt was actually white fabric dyed with blood. "Oh God… What do we do?"
"What can we do? Call an ambulance."
The demon, however, did not appear very happy with her conclusion, snarling as it pointed a clawed finger at the boy's pocket. "Alright, alright! No ambulance!" Max threw up her hands, then hesitantly reached into the Cape jeans, finding a beat-up smartphone with a spider web of cracks across the screen. She pressed the power button and, as expected, nothing happened.
"It's fucking broken!" The brunette snapped, annoyance momentarily overriding her terror. "What now, genius?"
The shadow pointed again, this time gesturing at the gaping wounds across the boy's chest.
When Max just stared at it blankly, the Shade moved to their coffee table and began scribbling dark streaks that spelled out 'Fix him.'
"Fix him…?" The brunette repeated incredulously. "What do I look like, a fucking surgeon? I work at a diner, not Grey's fucking Anatomy!"
The Shadow's eyes narrowed dangerously, tapping the glass insistently. Helpless, she could only turn and ask. "Please tell me you remember something useful from that one episode of ER we watched."
"I mostly just looked at George Clooney!" Caroline squeaked.
Seeing how useless both were, the shadow jabbed at the phone in frustration. Max was about to snap back when something clicked in her head. "Oh. You want us to Google it?"
The Shade nodded curtly.
"Caroline—"
"Way ahead of you!" Her roommate was already hunched over her phone, muttering search terms under her breath. "Okay, I found something! It says we need to apply direct pressure to stop the bleeding, check for exit wounds, and keep the victim calm while monitoring their breathing."
"Just tell me what to do first. I can't perform surgery blind here, Caroline."
"Cut away the clothing around the wounds so you can see them properly. Then apply pressure with clean clo—"
"I don't feel any bullets inside these wound—"
"Just keep applying pressure and—"
"This isn't working… We're so screwed."
"Keep trying."
"KEEP TRYING!"
"PRESEVERE!!!"
.
.
.
Opening his eyes, Rowan tumbled off the couch with a heavy thud, groaning as he curled in on himself, fingers finding several pieces of cloth stuffed into what felt like bullet holes scattered across his torso. He hissed at the sharp pain, his head strangely hollow and… Disconnected.
His vision might be blurry, his brain muddled, but he could sense the warmth of living bodies as clearly as the rumbling in his stomach.
'Hungry.'
Instinct took over as he began to crawl, drawn by the steady rhythm of heartbeats in a room nearby.
'I'm hungry.'
Stumbling his way to the room, he silently snuck inside, saliva dripping from his mouth as he spotted the shapely figure sprawled on the bed.
Lying on the mattress, the girl was still fast asleep, dressed in simple light pink pajamas that hugged her beautifully. But where a person should be, Rowan saw only a dark silhouette pulsing with brilliant light at its center while luminous veins branched through her.
Egged on by the rhythmic glow that had drowned out every trace of the civilized mind that once occupied his body, leaving only raw need, he crawled on top of her, lips peeled back to reveal elongated fangs.
He didn't know who told him, why or how, he just knew that if he devoured her flesh, drank her blood and absorbed her Immortal Soul, the gnawing pain might subside.
The certainty came not from conscious thought, but from ancient knowledge carved into his bones.
Rowan obliged, leaning down and sinking his teeth deep.
Blood erupted in a crimson arc, painting her pajamas and sheets in violent streaks.
But the metallic taste flooding his mouth was wrong, somehow.
It was bitter, and cold.
It was his own blood pouring from the bite wound on his hand.
Startled and disgusted by his own behavior, Rowan scrambled off the bed, eyes darting to the window only to lock with hers.
Mumbling an incoherent apology, he stumbled toward the window and rolled out, barely clearing the emergency exit railing as he climbed down and fled nto the night, leaving in his wake a trail of questions and a very shaken waitress who'd probably never sleep soundly again.
He ran through empty streets until exhaustion forced him to stop near a homeless man sleeping by a trash bin. Rowan stared, hunger stirring again.
'Just a taste. He's nobody anyway. I'd be cleaning up the streets.'
His hands shook as he stepped forward, the man's heartbeat calling to him like the seductive whispers of an old crush, but the horror at what he was contemplating made him jerk backward, sprinting into the alleyways to put some distance between himself and any living thing.
Propping himself up by the elbow, he sighed and searched his pocket for a phone that was no longer there.
Then his eyes caught on a bundle of newspapers against the opposite wall that looked relatively fresh, albeit soaked in liquid he could smell a mile away.
Dragging himself across the alley, Rowan reached for the top paper, hoping the date might tell him how long he'd been unconscious and freezing as he took in the headline.
THE BAT'S DEAD?
'Gotham's Dark Knight killed in confrontation with unknown assailants?'
His hands trembled as he flipped to the next paper.
RIOTS CONSUME GOTHAM CITY!
'Chaos erupts as criminals break loose from Arkham and Blackgate.'
And the next…
SIX MURDERED BY DEATHSTROKE, ONE SURVIVOR IN WITNESS PROTECTION!
'Mercenary's assault leaves families devastated!'
And the one after that.
GOTHAM LOST!
'City descends into anarchy as crime families and villains battle for control.'
Everything had gine to absolute shit in just two weeks. Fourteen. Fucking. Days. "What the fucking hell?!"