Chapter Text
Being a hero sucked, honestly.
Like, okay, being able to help people was amazing, and the publicity definitely stroked Cypress’s ego, but the hero work , the shit she does to get paid, sucked actual ass.
You've got to be on call 24-fucken-7 and it got so goddamn annoying when Cypress was trying to go to sleep when all of a sudden some random bitch(not to be confused with Duke) decided to rob a bank halfway across the city.
Like, can’t the fucker do it during the day? It's ridiculous!
She just wants her fucking sleep, but nooooooo , she has to wake up at the ass crack of dawn(noon) because this one guy keeps killing people, or something annoying like that. And then she has to go to the tower and change into her outfit, and then she has to mentally prepare herself for dealing with cops.
Fuck the police. They once got mad at her for crossing the street! They kept going on and on about how it “wasn’t safe” and how “you could’ve gotten hit” and that “you can’t cross when the light is red, kid.”
Like, shut the fuck up she is legally 19.
But now she has to work with them because some guy decided to get killed in an alley or something lame.
Murder isn’t cool, don’t get her wrong about that. And it's so fucking annoying when losers who manifest a strong power think they get to be the fucken Terminator or some shit because they can stab crap easier than most other randoms, but she wants to go back to bed.
And yet here she is, at the scene of another gruesome death that she couldn’t care less about, because every other hero must’ve just imploded or some bullshit as there is no reason she should be here right now, and because even though half of Alden’s taxes go to the cops, heroes still need to help out as “civil servants.”
Fucken ridiculous.
Yet she digresses; Murder is super lame, and she would never be pathetic enough to resort to it if she had any say in the matter.
…But at the same time whoever died today kinda had it coming.
Cypress isn’t gonna get into the question of “does anyone deserve to die,” because it is an obvious yes, but even just glancing at this dude’s records proves that the dead bozo was an awful person.
Well, she’s pretty sure they’re the same guy. The dead dude in front of her is mangled beyond recognition, but the file was handed to her when she arrived in her stylish hero getup so she’s gonna assume it’s plot-relevant.
Wait, no. At second glance there was more than just one file here.
Okay. So this isn’t just a one-time thing, there's a mystery to solve here.
…
She ain’t no fucken Scooby-Doo so why the hell is she here?
Y’know what—Fine. Whatever. Work’s work.
Each of the dead dudes had a hefty list of human trafficking, sexual assault, abuse, and tax evasion charges put on ‘em, but it looks like the charges were all they got, nothing in the files mentions fines paid or prison time. From what she can sus out most of these guys had some pretty thick wallets as well, and any that didn't had some type of friend in government.
The killer must think of themself as some kind of edgy Robin Hood or something.
But for a Robin Hood, these were… intense.
There should be a very fine line between deserving death and deserving your jaw getting ripped off of its hinges and having your insides scooped out.
Like seriously, who the fuck did this? It’s brutal. Cypress can’t even begin to imagine how awful it’ll be for someone to clean the literal organs off of the alley walls.
The police aren’t doing much about any of this either. They all have their panties in a twist trying to figure it out, and the news is going batshit insane over it, but Cypress needs a break. She just woke up and wants to eat one of those muffins Jorja baked yesterday.
And y’know, fuck it. She’s getting paid either way, and she’ll probably just get assigned as the person in charge of apprehending Emo Robin Hood anyway, so she might as well dip for now. Nothing’s gonna happen till later, the guy seems to have a schedule built up for himself.
She’ll figure out her excuse for ditching later. The higher-ups will be on her ass about it, she's confident about that, but for now, she couldn’t care less. Cypress wants a fucking muffin.
Emo Robin Hood can wait.
It turns out she was dead(pun intended) right, Cypress got put in charge of the case later that day, and nothing new happened either, yay for her!
After leaving the crime scene she got home, fed Floof, and then ate some muffins. They were so good Cypress could’ve killed God with the power they provided her, but she decided to spare the guy.
She’ll make a note to steal more of the muffins next time she stops by Jorja’s place.
Duke came into her office after she—reluctantly—decided to go to the tower to get some files organized for her newest and bloodiest headache. Because although she hates work she is not a slacker! She’s so cool and smart and has the best motherfucking work ethic ever.
Apparently Emo Robin Hood already had a name. The news anchor who came up with it must’ve been an avid user of r/Im14AndThisIsDeep though, because they decided that the perfect name for this serial killer was “ Mortem .”
…Huh?
Cypress doesn’t understand why people do shit like that. You’re gonna tell her that you chose some badass name for a killer and then get shocked when people want to murder each other? She would kill(pun intended) for a sick-ass name like fucken ‘Mortem.’
That’s why she’s gonna keep calling him Emo Robin Hood. Cause now she’s salty that he got a cool name. Stupid fucking murderer.
He’s just lucky she hasn’t caught him in the act yet. That bitch’ll be begging to be called Emo Robin Hood once she’s done with him!
“Heya, welcome to Taco Bell, what can I get for you today?” Cypress said as the front door’s bell chimed because she was the best employee known to man. Taco Bell fucking sucks and they should be happy that Cypress decided to pretend her quant little cafe was part of their nasty-ass fast food chain.
Despite her kindness, though, the customer did not look impressed.
Idiot.
He glared at her for a moment before sighing, he probably realized she was simply too amazing to argue with!
“Yeah, can I get the—” He paused briefly, allowing Cypress to take in his appearance. The dude looked like a hot mess. Not only did he not laugh at her joke, but he also looked like the type of loser who asked the teacher for extra homework, “—Iced coffee?”
His hair was sticking all over the place and the suit and tie he wore looked like they got slam-dunked into a dumpster before he entered the cafe.
Cypress hoped he didn’t touch anything, who knows what germs he had.
She nodded and began ringing up his total. He then paid and fucked off to the corner of the cafe without saying thank you.
She decided she hated this asshole.
Cypress began preparing his iced coffee. She almost considered spitting in it, cause he didn't acknowledge her kindness, but she was a strong-willed person so she restrained herself.
She was so amazing and kind, everyone should praise her.
The iced coffee turned out amazing, cause she's the most talented barista ever. He took it from her silently and stomped over to whatever seat he decided to stain with his musk.
And that was the end of their interaction.
…until he spat out his drink and stormed up to her. Because God must’ve cursed her entire bloodline or some shit, with how her luck was going.
“Why is this coffee cold?!” He shrieked.
…What.
“Young lady, I asked for a coffee , not a cold drink. A coffee,” As he spoke his face contorted into the ugliest fucking thing Cypress had ever seen. “Why is my coffee cold ?” he spat out that last bit of his stupid fucking complaint.
Wait, holy shit.
This dude was serious.
This—wha….
Huh?
“...are you high?”
Fuck. She did not mean to say that out loud. He deserved it, 100%, but she didn’t want him to shit his pants over this interaction. She hates cleaning the floors.
“Excuse you?” He snarled, full-on fucking snarled at her, “How dare you say that to me?! I’ll have you know that I’ve been coming here for seven years—” the cafe opened three years ago. “—and yet you disrespect me? I want to see your manager I’ll have you fired, do you have any idea who you jus—”
He continued to whine, or something similarly pathetic. Cypress wasn’t listening.
She was too focused on the cafe’s front door opening because her best-est (she made that a real word right now) friend decided to walk in.
“Flick!” Cypress happily shouted, cutting off the shit-for-brains idiot who glared at her after she, rightfully, cut him off.
Like jeez, how entitled do you have to be? Getting pissy when someone cuts off your complaining? Grow up.
“Hey Cypress,” Flick started, his brown and green tail swishing behind him as his eyes surveyed the cafe, “How's it going?”
“It’s going great!” Cypress cheered in response. Flick was always a really calm sort of guy, it was a nice change of pace from
Icey
, who was still glaring at her.
As the wolf hybrid began walking towards her his eyes flicked over to Mr. Ice For Brains and then landed back on her as if nothing happened.
That was another thing about Flick, along with his calm demeanour he also carried the air of a predator, cold calculation hidden under each word he spoke and sharp, ice-blue eyes that flicked to even the slightest movement.
Or maybe she’s just looking too deep into it. It's entirely possible she’s just used to the cynical world of heroes and villains.
“Who’s this guy?” Flick pointed to Discount Canada , who turned his too-angry attention to Flick instead of Cypress.
Flick, a brown full wolf hybrid with green-tipped fur and a white snout, flicked his ears in annoyance. Thank fuck she wasn’t the only person pissed off by this bozo.
Her friend was all decked out in a new outfit. It had an all-blue pallet to it, with the skirt and crop top being a darker shade while the thigh highs and arm warmers had a much paler look to them.
“Customer,” Cypress waved her hand in dismissal, “He’s throwing a tantrum ‘cause he wanted an iced coffee that wasn’t cold,” as she spoke Cypress moved to grab a few of her world-famous chocolate cupcakes—Flick ordered them every time he came to the cafe.
Well, they weren’t actually chocolate, since the cafe she worked at was a pretty popular place for hybrids—and lots of hybrids can't eat chocolate—she often used carob-based recipes instead. It was perfect for her dog-hybrid friend.
“—yes, I know. It's ridiculous because iced coffee has ice in it.” Cypress sighed in annoyance.
No matter where she worked, work was always annoying.
Oh, what she would do for a life where she could just rob a bank every once a year and be fine for the rest of her life—to be free to do whatever she wants with no laws confining her. Sure, she’d be a villain, but Phoenix hasn't been caught yet, so she has a pretty good chance of getting away as well.
Then again, the HC would probably just dox her or something. Having a vigilante contract gives you no rights, after all.
The customer—who, mind you, was an adult—stomped his foot to the ground as he yelled, “I’m right here! How dare you act as though I'm not! I will not tolerate this harassment!”
Flick was about to respond, probably to say something based, but the guy pushed him to the side before running out the door. His coffee was left spilling on the ground.
…
“You might wanna get those clothes washed…”
“So, hows everything going today?” Cypress questioned as Flick—who was in a new outfit now—took a bite out of a cupcake.
“Fine. Until I came here,” Flick complained between bites, covering his mouth because apparently, this nerd has manners . Lame.
Cypress snickered from her place across from him. The cafe was basically empty after Ice Cube decided to be a bitch, so she was pretty much free to chill out ‘till anyone new came through the door. Perks of working at an out-of-the-way local business.
“I just came at a bad time, I guess.”
“Sucks to suck.” Cypress laughed as she stole one of his cupcakes. He glared at her as she raised her hands in mock surrender. “Hey man! You’re not paying so it’s free game.”
“Aside from coming here, what’ve you been up to?” Cypress changed the subject as she began unwrapping the cupcake and Flick paused, taking a moment to think.
“Hm,” he trailed off, “I got a new outfit. It’s why I came in the first place.” His expression darkened as he continued speaking, “Doesn’t matter much now, though. Since that idiot decided to ruin it.”
“Well, from what I saw it was good! Could’ve been better without the greasy stain to it, but I don’t judge.” She laughed and ducked her head when Flick threw a cupcake wrapper at her.
Flick grumbled before continuing to eat his food. Cypress lifted her head and, with a more genuine tone, said, “By the way, do you wanna hang out tonight? The cafe’s probably not gonna have anyone new coming in, so I can close it whenever, and my second job assigned me to something I can put off for a bit.”
Even though Cypress and Flick were close, she never really got around to telling him anything about his “second job” of hers. Having your friends gushing about your achievements was great and all, but she enjoyed the separation between Cypress and Emperor.
“I found a really cool place in Lower last week, and they have some killer tacos,” Cypress began rambling, “it's a nice place, good area—for lower—and it has some good nightlife. It's a food truck, so it's in a park. But, get this, this park is an actual park , it's not just one of Lower’s famous concrete jungles. It’s got trees and pathways and fresh-cut grass. There are nice strung-up lamps and everything! I’m telling ya, it’s amazi—”
“I, uh, I got work tonight, Cy.” He cut her off, his voice light in that I-don’t-wanna-offend-you sort of way.
Okay, buddy. Looks like someone got moved to the 2nd best-est friend rank.
“Prick.” She glared at him. “What about, like, Mcdonalds? It’s the same price but I guess it’s faster, or whatever. Asshole.” Ultimatums never hurt anyone.
He hesitated, his tail swishing to the left, before finally saying, “I mean, maybe? But don’t get your hopes up or anything. Sorry Cy. Work’s a pain sometimes but it is what it is.” He shrugged.
Fuck him. She just wanted someone to mooch off of but I guess that was too grand a request.
This is her villain origin story. She’s gonna rob banks for real now. Screw Emo Robin Hood and Duke and the Commission. She’s gonna move out to some mansion in the middle of nowhere with Floof and she’s gonna have a secret lair with her villain gear and it’ll be sooo cool.
And when everyone finds out about it they’ll all be like “Oh gosh I’m so sorry Cy, I didn’t realize how stupid I was. Here, you can have my credit card and buy all the food you want, in fact, have my firstborn child too, you deserve it. You’re simply so cool and amazing I should’ve never rejected you.”
Yeah. No doubt in her mind, they’ll all be singing that tune eventually.
They should be doing it already, honestly. The fools.
“Bitch. I take back what I said. You’re paying for those cupcakes. Fuckface.” Cypress stood up from her spot across from Flick and left into the back room, leaving her dick of a friend to fend for himself in her empty cafe.
She stayed there for another 30 minutes before leaving, the new high score on Subway Surfers was proof of that. On her way out she found a 10 dollar note left where Flick was sitting, she snatched it without looking back.
..She’ll forgive him for now .
The wind flew past her as Cypress sprinted across rooftops, a familiar but comforting feeling through her hair, against her face and below her feet.
Each building she jumped to aligned with the rapid beating of her heart, each roll and dive and leap became her breath, and each railing, that she clung onto as she pulled herself from ledges just a little too far away, was the essence of her very soul.
Through everything in her life, the rooftops of Alden were a place Cypress could call home. A risky but so incredibly addicting thrill exploded throughout her body every moment she spent running above every unimportant loser below her.
If Alden was a cage then she was one of the lucky birds who learned how to pick the lock with its beak. The muted cacophony of cars and people below her was nothing more than a faraway song as she danced above the winding maze of buildings, roads, and alleys.
With the setting sun behind her, Cypress’s silhouette inspired awe and cheer from her onlookers on the ground.
The attention gained from roof-jumping was also one of the reasons she enjoyed it so much.
A hero’s reputation is important, the public needs to know you're there for you to get anything out of the career, after all.
The sky continued to dim, and as time went by, more and more of the city’s light shined from the streets and buildings rather than the sun that was now hidden by skyscrapers.
This is exactly why night patrols are the best.
It also helps that she has way cooler eyes than almost everyone else and can see in the dark a bit.
Speaking of seeing… it seems like most people have already gone home for the night. At least they have where she was in Lower.
Thats not surprising though, the everyday crime down here is worse than any villain fight in Upper. It’s why she spends most of her patrol time here as well.
Villains cause property damage, but in Lower where all the buildings are already too damaged to repair, the biggest concern is the safety of your life and your wallet.
For your information, the wallet is the one you should be trying to protect more. Watching a criminal squirm and panic at the thought of taking another life while holding you at knife-point is very comedic.
Though—you probably shouldn’t be tempting fate unless you know how to fight back. Just in case.
Like… right below Cypress. If you are not a trained professional, or if you're not cool and sexy (again, like Cypress), and instead some weirdo old man, you’re gonna get your ass beat.
She didn’t get there soon enough to see the fight start, but from the blood on the floor below the man and the dangerous-looking figure blocking his exit from the alley, he wasn’t in a fight with some scared, desperate mugger needing extra cash.
He was dealing with an actual criminal. A convict. Some type of pervert who reeked of bloodlust. With sharpened eyes and too-long, too-pointy , fingers, yellow teeth and an unnaturally stretched smile.
The figure, person, creature—whatever it was—wasn’t normal. Its arms long enough to be level with its feet, despite standing tall, were coated in a black sort of ink. And spikes; bent and skewed and so incredibly sharp. She couldn’t see its neck, but its shoulders and upper torso were splattered in the same inky substance and blood. Below that, though, was a giant gash through the thing’s too-thin body. A winding, uneven ‘X’ cut deep into their skin, leaving the flesh below it visible, raw, and coated in a mixture of deep, voidlike black, and dark, dried crimson.
The desaturated greens and browns of its skin (fur?) drilled themselves into Cypress’s brain, every one of her flight or fight instincts kicking in and ordering her to leave .
She stayed rooted in her spot above them. Watching as the figure stepped (dragged itself?) toward the man, before grabbing him by the jaw and ramming him into a nearby dumpster.
A sharp crack and low, gurgling moan of agony echoed through the alley, across the streets around it, and into the sky above the buildings Cypress loved to scale.
The figure then stopped, loosening its grip on the man as he fell with a cold, wet, slump that seemed to silence even the rats and crickets.
She waited in morbid anticipation, glaring into the figure as if that would show her its next move.
A quick glance at the now more red-than-green dumpster answered itself though. The corpse on the ground and the blood-slicked murderer in front of her were done. The decaying body of a man in a grey suit would be abandoned with an unrecognizable face and skull fragments coating a nearby dumpster, and the too-wrong figure would walk away without a trace.
That… sounds familiar.
A string of murders— gruesome murders—and an unidentifiable culprit who always got away before anyone even caught wind of him being there.
Holy shit. She is Scooby-Doo! She totally cracked this case wide open!
She was face to face with the one and only Emo Robin Hood!
Before he could fully leave the alley, Cypress jumped into action. Rising from her crouched spot on the roof, she ran to the alley’s mouth and jumped right in front of the man of the hour.
“Mortem! My friend, my pal, how goes it?” She cheerfully questioned, moving out of the way from Emo Robin Hood’s hand as it attempted to slice her neck.
His head twitched to the side, a bewildered, murderous smile contorting his face as he took in the mighty form of Emperor.
A rattling chuckle came from in front of Cypress as Emo Robin Hood looked at the hero blocking his path, her cape billowing in the wind like a badass comic-book superhero. His face remained crooked, but Cypress just knew he was shaking in his boots.
Who wouldn’t after getting cornered by the mighty number three hero Emperor herself! With the power to topple even the gods, and the plot armour to survive any attack, Cypress was the most feared hero around!
She was also known for having the biggest head, but everyone who thought that of her was probably just smelly.
“Woah now buddy, I don’t know if you knew this, but decapitation is not how you say hello.” Cypress tutted. “Usually, it’s respectful to say something like ‘Oh great Emperor, I’m blessed to be in your presence, please, spare me for my transgressions.’”
Cypress opened her eyes, which she had closed as she began her prideful and righteous speech. “And once you do that I’ll go, ‘Okay! Since you know you’re place I’ll make sure you get only the freshest of prison foods, no thanks nessessar—’” she stopped. Her mind coming to a complete halt when she took another look at Emo Robin Hood and realized just who he was.
With green and brown fur, pitch-black scleras with bright blue irises. A swooping tail, and long, pointy ears.
Who was decidedly not busy with work, despite fucking up all her plans with that excuse.
“Flick?!” Cypress’s voice created a new, ninth octave when she spoke; her cocky, nonchalant tone was abandoned for something completely dumbfounded.
Emo Robin Hood ( Flick , that was Flick) paused, his eyes widening at the name as he took a moment to stare at who he only knew as Emperor.
“Holy shit? You—you’re Mortem?!” She breathed out, cackling like an insane person.
Mortem remained silent for a few more seconds, after which he seemed to jump at the realization of who he was talking to. The voice that normally reminded her of chestnuts and cherry-picking in spring now cracked and rasped as each spoken word overlapped in on itself, like an echo heard from a scratched, chipped disk. “Cypress?”
Upon hearing her name, Cypress broke out into a fit of maniacal laughter that wracked her entire frame and sent her tripping towards her, apparently, murderous friend.
Oh my fucking god. Of course this bitch was Mortem! The fur, the weird cold and calculating eyes, the sharp reflexes, the shitty “oh I have work and can’t hang out” excuse that every person with a secret identity (herself included) uses.
Wait.
“You fucking bitch! You stood me up so that you could just—fucking—” she sputtered angrily, eyes snapping to him as she organized her thoughts, “You just fucking ditched me so that you could go play vigilante and murder rich people!”
She walked up to him, to the point that she could feel his warm breath against her face as she looked up into his eyes. They stood neck and neck, and in that moment, with her entire vision coated in a deep, burning red, Cypress pulled back her arm and punched him.
She continued yelling as his head lolled to the side, her identity reveal forgotten as his mind blue-screened. That bitchass murderer better take his time and process exactly what she did. He better feel it with all his being.
It better fucking hurt.
“Apparently killing this bitch couldn’t wait another day, huh? It couldn’t wait another fucking day! You just had to go bash this loser’s head in when you could’ve been having the time of your life with your fucking friend!”
“I don’t even fucking care that you’re Mortem!” each breath she took shook her entire body as she looked at him with pure rage. “I don’t fucking care! Kill people all you fucking want, mutilate their corpses and leave them in complete suffering—it doesn’t fucking matter! But don’t prioritize it over your own friends!”
She stared at him for a long moment. His expression curled into a similar anger as hers.
Cypress cut him off before he could even consider defending himself.
"You’re not a damn puppet, so stop acting like it."
Mortem stopped where he stood. His breath, which might’ve been more of a snarl, hitched in his throat.
His eyes widened for a brief, barely noticeable moment.
Cypress noticed.
“You’re a piece of shit who ditched me, and I’m never gonna forgive you.” Cypress paused as she looked at the corpse behind Motrem, her next words much softer than before, “But you’re not as bad as the people you kill.”
“So don’t let them control you,” she whispered with a booming echo that could shake mountains. Her voice, barely audible in the silent alley, shook the walls around them and flipped the floor inside out as Mortem stood and listened and realized exactly what she had said.
They sat there like that for a long moment. Cypress looking up to Mortem in muted anger and Mortem looking down at her with an unreadable expression.
He said nothing.
Until he did.
“I’m sorry.”
…
Cypress… was not expecting that.
Hearing an apology coming from an eldritch demon who has murdered dozens of people was not on her bucket list, but obviously, that didn’t matter, because it still very much happened.
She doesn’t even have a bucket list, which might be part of the problem, but superstition isn't real and therefore not owning a bucket shouldn't matter.
Why was she talking about buckets? She should be responding to his apology, or walking away, or doing something .
She honestly didn’t think that far.
Cypress was just yelling for the sake of yelling.
Mortem rejected her, and he was still a bitch for that, but usually people get angry at her when she's yelling at them. They don’t just stand there. Or apologize.
Or whatever the ever-loving fuck Mortem was doing.
One moment he was Mortem in all his nightmare-inducing glory and the next moment his entire body started to shift and move and holy fuck did his spine just snap? What was that noise ?
The sound of bones snapping and compressing echoed throughout the alley, skin and fur growing through the giant gash in his stomach as if it was never there, the sound of wet movement and something clicking into place.
His entire form started to bend and break as if he were putty.
The spikes coating his arms sliding into his skin like some knock-off nightmare Wolverine and the ink that covered him faded in a way that made it look like some ink-drying timelapse.
She was convinced this was God intervening or some shit.
But then the snapping, cracking, and clicking—she almost gagged at that sound—stopped.
And Flick (not Mortem) was standing right in front of her.
And he looked…
Sad.
He looked completely miserable. His eyes locked to the floor as he hugged himself.
“I—” He started, his voice back to normal, “I’m sorry.”
“I didn’t, well, I—I didn’t think of it like that. Didn’t think it was…”
“I just didn’t think about it.”
After Flick took a deep breath he looked up to Cy.
“W-whatever. You still owe me food, jackass.” Cypress huffed. Her head snapped towards the alley wall.
The wall looked really gross. Bleh
“Of course.” He smirked as he pretended he didn’t see the pink coating her ears.
“Bitch,” Cypress mumbled.
Before he could say something not true and completely slanderous, Cypress began to speak, “That taco place better be open, and when we get there you’re gonna buy me the whole damn menu, and then I’m gonna remind you how much of a shitty friend you are. And how just downright mean you are.”
She huffed.
“You’re never gonna live it down.” Cypress then started walking towards the alley’s mouth, raising her hand to flip Flick off as she left.
He stood there momentarily before sighing, shrugging, and following her away.
Cypress was damn right about the food. The best part about it all was how cheap everything was. All-you-can-eat food-truck tacos for the good ol’ price of free.
Minus whatever Flick had in his wallet, but he deserved losing some zeros in his bank account after the stunt he pulled.
Cypress got what she wanted and everything else was irrelevant.
The next morning, after arriving at yet another crime scene, Cypress genuinely considered building a time machine just to punt her past self for saying that.
Fucking—
Irrelevant, huh?