Hermits Incorporated

1. why so complicated?

John Booko, a man of average height with a toned build and short brown hair, walked through the rain-soaked alleyways of the city. His mossy green hoodie was pulled tightly over his head, the red bandanna across his mouth and nose leaving just enough room for his muddy brown eyes to peer through. The city was a blur of neon lights reflecting off the wet pavement, each droplet a tiny mirror holding a distorted glimpse of the chaos above. John, known to the city as the vigilante B00100, had seen better days. His hands, usually steady, trembled slightly as he replayed the events of the night in his mind. A fight with a hero he once considered an ally had left him questioning his place in this mess of a world.

As he approached the vigilante base, hidden behind the facade of an abandoned electronics store, he took a moment to compose himself. The base was a sanctuary for the lost and misunderstood, a place where those with extraordinary abilities could find refuge from the judgments of the outside world. John's power to manipulate time had made him a force to be reckoned with, but it was also a burden that isolated him from those who couldn't comprehend the weight of his gift. He took a deep breath and pushed open the heavy metal door, the sound echoing through the emptiness within.

The lights flickered on as he stepped inside, revealing a stark contrast to the damp streets outside. The base was a maze of screens and monitors, beeping machinery, and a faint scent of burnt circuits. The walls were lined with weapons and gadgets, each one meticulously designed and crafted by the inhabitants for their unique battles. John's gaze fell upon the screens, displaying various parts of the city under surveillance. The silent sentinels watching over the streets, hoping to spot the next move of their ever-elusive foes.

Ren, a South African hero, one of the very few that know about the illegal place he is currently working in, with brunette hair and dog-like features, looked up from his workstation, his eyes scanning John with concern. "You okay, man?" he asked, his voice a low rumble. Ren, or Warren, his real name, or his hero name as he was known to the world outside the base, TheRedKing for his extravagantly regal outfit, had the power of telekinesis and a penchant for hacking. He was one of the few who truly understood the toll their line of business took on the mind and body.

John nodded, his voice gruff. "Yeah, just a bad night." He stripped off his damp hoodie, revealing the muscular frame beneath. Ren raised an eyebrow but said nothing, returning his focus to the screens. John walked past him, each step echoing through the cavernous space, heading towards the medical bay. He needed to patch up the gash on his arm, a souvenir from the fight. The sterile smell of the room was a comfort, a stark reminder of the humanity they were fighting to protect.

As he cleaned and bandaged the wound, he couldn't shake the image of his former ally, now a foe, from his mind. The hero had turned on him out of nowhere, one leaving the vigilante to his devices and helping people as normal before turning and trying to arrest the vigilante at last. Why had they turned? What was happening to the heroes of this city? Why couldn't heroes be what vigilantes tried to be; free, independent, helpful, real heroes.

John took a seat on the cold, metal bench in the medical bay, his thoughts racing. He knew that he couldn't let this one incident define his path. He had a responsibility to the people of the city, especially with villains like Zedaph lurking in the shadows. Kris Playn, the British villain with the unnerving sheep-like persona and mind-bending abilities, was a constant thorn in the heroes's sides. Why did they attack the vigilante that was friends with the villain? Why not use it to their advantage? It all confused him.

As he bandaged his arm, the sound of the door opening interrupted his contemplation. In walked Tango Tek, the American pyrokinetic known as Deep Frost, his blue hair stark against his black outfit. His eyes, usually filled with a fiery passion, now held a hint of wariness as he saw John's state. "Hey, Bdubs," he said, his voice a mix of warmth and caution. "Heard you had a run-in with a hero. What's the deal?"

John sighed heavily, noting the affectionate nickname from his vigilante name while tossing the bloody cloth into the bin. "It's complicated," he replied, his eyes flicking to the screens. "But it's not the first time a hero has gone after me."

Tango nodded, his hands resting on his hips. "Well, you know what they say, right?" His voice had a touch of humor in it, trying to lighten the mood. "With great power comes great... misunderstanding."

John couldn't help but crack a smile at the old joke. "Yeah, something like that." He finished bandaging his arm and stood up, the gravity of the situation weighing him down once again. "We can't keep operating like this, Tango. We're supposed to be the ones fighting for justice, but it feels like we're treated like the very monsters we're trying to protect people from." He says this as Tango gives him a look, John not being his usual cartoony self, which was a rarity.

Tango stepped closer, his eyes searching John's. "You're not a monster, B. You're just doing what you think is right." His tone was firm, a reassurance that John desperately needed to hear. "But maybe it's time we rethink our approach. We can't just keep banging our heads against the same wall and expecting it to crumble."

"Try telling that to Skizz." John chuckles as he brings up a good friend of theirs, another hero named Andy. His hero name being Skizzleman. The 6'2 brunette is always messing around and running into things. The bright white wings on his back not providing any balance for him, but boy does he try. "He'd probably trip over his own feet trying to be more 'hero-y'."

Tango's smile faded into a contemplative look. "Maybe we need to start working more with the good guys," he suggested, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "I mean, we're all on the same side, right?"

John considered this for a moment before shaking his head. "It's not that simple," he said, his voice filled with the weight of past experiences. "They don't trust us, and with good reason. We've got our own rules, our own code. We're illegal, Tango. Vigilantes are against the law."

Tango nodded solemnly. "But maybe we can change that," he said, his gaze intense. "We've got the skills, the power. If we can show them we're not just a bunch of vigilantes causing more trouble, maybe we can work together."

John leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. "And how do you propose we do that?"

Tango shrugged. "We start with the ones we know. Maybe reach out to some of the more... understanding heroes. Like DocM77. He's got your back, right?" Doc and Bdubs have a very long and complex past with each other, either one trusting the other with their life and saving each other's on multiple occasions.

John thought of Steffen Mössner, the German hero with a robotic arm and goat horns, whose actual name was a secret to everyone except for the core group. Known to the public as DocM77, he was a rare breed of hero who didn't always tow the line of the law but had a strong sense of morality and a soft spot for vigilantes. "He's been sympathetic before, but he's still a hero," John said, skepticism lacing his words.

Tango leaned against the wall beside him. "Look, I know it's a long shot, but we can't keep fighting alone. The city needs all of us." His voice was earnest, the flames that danced in his eyes dimming slightly. "And we could use a doctor who doesn't ask too many questions." Though most don't believe it, DocM actually has a PHD and is a certified doctor at times. The muscular, tall hero isn't what anyone expects as a doctor though.

John sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I'll talk to him," he finally conceded. "But we need to be careful. If word gets out that we're collaborating..." Very little civilians have gotten word about the new villain in town. A great, bad, legitimately evil person. Doing things purely for evil rather than necessity like Zedaph or impulse, two villains that are both compassionate and friendly with the group, especially Tango, who they seem to have taken a liking to.

"I know," Tango said, his voice low. "But we've got to start somewhere." He clapped John on the back before heading out of the medical bay, leaving John to his thoughts. The idea of working with heroes was fraught with risk, but the alternative was growing more and more unsustainable. The city was changing, the lines between good and evil blurring with each passing day

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Really hope I can keep motivation with this one, lol. Please let me know if you see any inconsistencies or spelling/grammar mistakes, I tried to proofread this one best I could.

-Aegro