“Just your lucky day!” Gabriel looks back at the creatures chasing him. There are about fifteen, maybe twenty blue tang fish the size of refrigerators with enough human musculature to make Olympians jealous sprouting from them. If this were a war of attrition, then he would have lost. His only chance would have been his keen mind — a mind that has studied enough cinema to make it to the other side of Freytag’s Pyramid.

That was until help arrived. It was an assumption on his end, it always was, but in a war predicated on two opposing species fighting over the same territory, who would assume a proudly human whistle would come from an enemy?

If this was a trap, they got him hook, line, and sinker.

But the thought doesn’t cross his mind. Instead, he wastes valuable seconds running backward as he waves goodbye.

“I’ve got a hot date, looks like.” He says. “Shame 'cause I would’ve had to kick all your asses.”

A lie followed by the emptiest of threats. His only solace was that this hero would be able to take care of the monsters on his behalf. And if not, he’d have to come up with something. He’s not letting someone else get hurt in his stead.

“Love the rope.” He makes his way to her, jogging in place. Ready to move if the situation calls for it. But her stilted expression is more interesting than everything in that damn ocean. “How’re you so calm in a situation like this?”

He stops jogging and sticks out his hand.

“It’s really not the time nor the place, but who am I to deny an introduction to my hero?” He winks. “The name’s Gabe. The pleasure is all mine.”

---

Great. A turf war!

As if being potentially mugged by his ‘brothers in arms’ wasn’t enough, now he was caught in a conflict he wanted no part of. When he escaped from the heroes, he thought he’d have some time to investigate the scene and create counter measures. At least arm himself with a weapon or something — he hadn’t even had time to search through a dumpster for a metal pipe.

“Look at that, I’m so out of place here. I’m not tryna take anyone’s turf. All situational, I think it’s best I let you all sort it out.” Gabe tries to exit the situation to no avail.

“Don’t you fuckin’ move.”

Gabe stops, sighs, then turns around.

The two men are back to back. One with the switch blade toward Chirp and the other with the bat toward Retsu. As she approached, one nudged the other and they both faced her.

“On second thought, help us out and we’ll let you keep the alley.” They talked tough, but those were the words of a coward.

“Good deal. Even better one coming to mind,” He looks to Retsu. Yikes. She’s terrifying. “I help you clock these guys and I’ll get out of your hair? I don’t even want any turf. I bet the TOA is awful.”

For the love of god let’s hope she’s reasonable.

---

A voice.

No, worse. A disembodied voice.

As far as he knew, his intel on this laboratory was fairly accurate. There were only a few oversights that Iphi promptly corrected when she reviewed the files. But criminals were fickle. It wouldn’t surprise him if people were under new management. The turnover rate was cuh-razy.

But the disembodied voice wasn’t working for them. Whether newly in charge or a bodyguard, they would have opted to stop him from scavenging every little gizmo he could tinker with. Gabriel would’ve expected alarms. Maybe a dramatic, villainous speech. Instead, he got… a warning?

“You know we’re safer in numbers.” Gabriel’s measuring something now. It’s unclear what, but as he makes room on a countertop, his work ethic is far more deliberate than his cheerful, carefree attitude suggests.

“We’ve only got an hour, y’know.” He wobbles his head back and forth, literally rocking an idea in his head. “But that is a whole hour. Think of all the unsupervised trouble we could get into.”

If he were actually trouble, he might be able to stall to create the sleeve. Between Iphi’s most recent design and his work on Elijah’s prosthetic, he’d built an internal model of what this should look like and how it should function — it's just a matter of time.

He turns to the camera with a peace sign, one of the lenses closing to simulate a wink.

---

Okay.

You’re a villain now, Chirp.

Put on the mask — cause you can do that again — and make sure to only do bad enough things. You can steal from crooks. Which makes this okay. The heroes know you’re just playing the part. And it doesn’t hurt to hurt the bad guys, as a bad guy, right? They beef all the time. And more importantly, they’ve got a lot of shit.

Chirp dug through the scraps of the laboratory. If he were going to live this life, a life without the support of hero infrastructure — not direct support, anyway — then he’d need to defend himself. He could fight, yeah, but he wasn’t all that strong or fast or anything. With the number of monsters out there, ranging from shapechanging giants to ravenous fishmen, he’d need something non-lethal, but also lethal. Something that’ll save his ass when it needs saving. Which is always.

“I think that’ll be enough voltage.” He says to himself. As far as he knows, he’s alone. He’s been tailing these peeps since Ouros. And they’re pretty regimented in how they operate. As long as he’s done within the hour, he’s safe.

---

Guilty.

It was his plea. It was his verdict.

Gabriel believed in the system. There was a time he didn’t. During that time, Gabe acted on his own accord, playing hero without the license or resources to do the job justice. Time after time, he failed and left things worse than they were. Worse than if he would have called a hero for help. Worse than if he would have reported the bomb to the cops.

He could make as many excuses as he wanted. There wasn’t enough time. I had to do something. None of it mattered — even if it was true. The system is here to keep people safe. Because some people, people like ‘Chirp,’ thought they could act outside of it and save the day.

They couldn’t.

Even those who can can’t always.

Gabriel’s court case ends with a plea deal. To the public, he’d spend a few years in prison. But behind closed doors, a deal was struck.

Heroes from various agencies would find themselves in this small, confined room. A government official propositioned the following:

“Gabriel Dos Santos will be our double agent.” He said. “He will ‘escape’ from our facility and act on his own accord. It’s not a difficult sell. An attention-seeking, self-absorbed man —”

“I’ll do it,” Gabriel chirped. “Whatever it takes to help.”

Purpose never tasted so sweet.

“The rest of you will hold him accountable. If he needs to disperse vital information on the field, he’ll contact one of you. He is to never interact with the government in an official capacity. As far as everyone else is concerned — the police force, other hero agencies — ‘Chirp’ went rogue.”

Beat.

“Are we all on the same page?” He doesn’t wait for a response. “Good. Take his cuffs off. You have a five-minute head start.”

Without hesitation, he runs off.

---

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