the feathers in our veins (scarian superhero au)

000. prologue.

The streets lay silent and abandoned, devoid of the usual hustle. Each whisper of the breeze echoed through the emptiness, creating a hushed symphony that seemed to provide ease amidst Scarlett City's usual clutter. This peaceful moment marked the city's traditional dead hour, providing a opportunity for Scar to keep watch atop the courthouse rooftop.

Stretching out on the cold cement, Scar gazed up at the starless sky with a mixture of boredom and vigilance. It was late, and Scar had been stationed here for nearly two hours patiently waiting for word about any ongoing activity, but there had been nothing but silence.

The courthouse roof provided little comfort, with its unforgiving surface lacking any amenities except a minimal guardrail. Scar tolerated the discomfort only because it provided him with a strategic vantage point in the city's heart, allowing him to keep a close eye on the streets.

Yet, despite the peace of the dead hour, Scar couldn't shake his weariness for this lull in activity. In his experience, dead hour could be a double-edged sword, sometimes living up to its name, but just as often becoming the stage for unexpected madness.

Over the years, Scar had learned to accept that he couldn't control when or where crime would strike, nor could he dictate its outcome. All he could do was remain vigilant, ready to spring into action at a moment's notice, and hope for the best possible outcome – to swiftly address the issue and aid the city he swore to protect. Despite its challenges, Scar knew that this was his duty, and he embraced it with determination and commitment.

"HotGuy," Scar's attention spiked at the sound of Cub's voice echoing through his earpiece. "Silent motion alarms activated in the confidential archives. You need to move fast before anything valuable disappears.. the press would have a field day with that one."

"On it," HotGuy replied briskly, grabbing his bow and swiftly locating a nearby building ledge to hook his grapple onto.

For the uninformed, the confidential archives housed vital government documents and records crucial for the city's operations. Therefore any breach would cause an issue.

In less than two minutes, HotGuy arrived at the scene. Silently, he slipped through a roof-mounted trapdoor and found himself in the confines of a janitor's closet. His familiarity with the building's layout from previous encounters lent him a confident edge as he prepared to confront whatever threat awaited within.

Stepping out of the closet, HotGuy moved with caution, his senses keen and his bow at his side. Each step was measured as he navigated the dimly lit halls, his eyes scanning for any signs of movement.

The building lay shrouded in darkness, the only illumination filtering in through the windows from the glow of streetlamps outside. HotGuy was on the verge of dismissing the call as a false alarm when he heard a faint shuffling sound that sent a jolt of adrenaline coursing through his veins.

"There it is." he thought to himself. Pausing in his tracks as he listened intently. With precision born of experience, he pinpointed the sound and made his way towards a distant backroom, where the faint glow of moonlight revealed a figure hunched over, rifling through drawers with purpose.

As HotGuy observed from the doorframe, he noted the intruder's smaller stature and the unmistakable presence of wings sprouting from his back. It was clear that this was no ordinary trespasser – this was someone from the underworld with a specific agenda.

Scar frowned, steadying his breath before addressing the trespasser. "Excuse me," he began softly, but even his gentle tone seemed to startle the hybrid lurking in the shadows. The man with wings jumped, spinning around in surprise, his feathers bristling defensively.