Iris couldn't focus.

After her grueling detention, in which the few lines she'd cared enough to write were overlooked by Kennedy due to the Moron's absence, she'd taken the forty five minute long bus ride home, sat herself down at the kitchen table, and stared at a blank document.

She was supposed to write an essay about the Romanov assassination and subsequent rise of Communism in the Soviet Union, but the words that she knew on the topic remained stuck in her subconscious, refusing to budge onto her keyboard.

Instead, her mind continuously drifted to Wesley — the Phantom, coming up with a dozen different scenarios that would've had him rushing out of the classroom in the way he had.

The thought of it being Villain related had her more enticed than she knew she should've been. Ideas of fires and battles and murder — hopefully none of which resulted in the death of the Moron, though she'd never admit that part aloud.

She wasn't even supposed to know who Wesley Moran was.

Yet she did. Cared, too, in a way that felt far too foreign. Like a parasite that had stuck to her skin, going unnoticed until it was too late.

She'd known him for what, a day? Unless she counted the nosebleed incident, she couldn't recall ever having spoken to him before that time in the hall — and the parking lot later that day. Neither moment had stuck to her more than it naturally should've — but the party.

The freaking party.

She would've sooner picked her own father out as the Phantom than considered Moron for the role.

And yet, here she was, his soon-to-be fake girlfriend.

She brought a hand to rub her bare arms at a sudden chill.

The excitement was practically bouncing off of her, more reasons than Wesley had any way of knowing producing her enthusiasm.

Her dad would be furious. Ruined, even. Brayden would be humiliated, more so than the viral pool video had caused him to be.

And, most importantly her status would elevate to the height she'd fallen from — perhaps scale even higher than Helena's. After all, what was more badass than dating a Hero?

Having a Villain at her side.

Her phone buzzed, drawing her away from the blank screen she'd zoned out into.

Jessica: Hey, is this Iris? I got your number from Becca.

Iris: Hey. Yeah, it's me.

Jessica: Cool!

Jessica: I just wanted to see how you were doing. I know today was a bit crazy.

Iris: Yeah, all good. Thanks.

Jessica: Are you doing anything tonight?

Tearing her gaze away from the phone, Iris glanced at the untouched essay — and the Monday due date in the corner, then shook her head and closed her laptop. A passing grade in Russian History wasn't going to make or break her graduation, not to mention the quality she knew the paper would be even if she did manage to finish it. It wasn't worth the effort.

Iris: Nah.

Jessica: Want to hang out?

Any other day, and she would've said no. Jessica wasn't her friend, after all, and veering outside her strict social circle was too much risk for not enough reward.

But what else did she have? Helena, the only person she ever truly considered a friend was on a time out, texts unread and MIA from school — the prime time she could've apologized.

Like she wasn't sorry at all.

Like the past few years of friendship, and all Iris had sacrificed for it, hadn't been for anything. The garden she'd been nursing had dried out in spite of her best efforts, leaving her without any energy to plant a new one.

Yet, doing nothing felt like surrender, in a war she had no intention of losing. If she was going to go down, it wouldn't be without giving her all.

If she was going to go down, her pride would stand even as she collapsed.

And an opportunity had struck with Jessica's text sitting on her phone, her thumb dancing over the keys as she considered her response.

Jessica Taylor wasn't her friend. She never would be. Just like Becca from film class wasn't her friend, and Moron wasn't her friend.

Iris didn't trust the word in association with herself. Certainly not after everything that had gone down.

But that didn't mean she had to resign herself to complete isolation. She didn't have to trust Jessica like she had Helena. She could use the situation to her benefit — rub it in Helena's face, even.

Pretend Jessica Taylor was her friend, Flaunt it in public, prove to the world that she'd come out the other end of the Brayden-Helena incident on top.

Besides, it wasn't like Jessica actually liked her. No doubt she was climbing up the social ladder at the first opportunity she saw.

Mutually beneficial. Just like her arrangement with Moron.

Iris: Sure. Where?

Jessica picked up Iris half an hour later, pulling into her driveway in a white minivan she promptly informed her belonged to her mother, and to ignore the half empty McDonalds bag she had sitting in the passenger seat.

They drove around for a bit, blasting Jessica's Chappell Roan CD (because owning physical media is important nowadays, she explained when Iris asked), and singing along carelessly off-tune, until they eventually rolled to a stop at a diner Jessica insisted was the best in the suburbs.

Somehow, Iris had become all smiles, only dimming when she realized where exactly they were at — a restaurant.

Her empty stomach ached, which she quelled by wrapping a hand around her opposite wrist, touching her fingers together.

"This is seriously the best?" Iris repeated in disbelief as she slid out the door, eyeing the place up and down. Simply called Lucy's, she'd have been surprised if they'd been paid a maintenance visit once in the past decade. The place appeared to be falling apart from the inside out — a crack running up alongside a window and the sign hanging at an angle from the corner that had stopped supporting itself.

She wouldn't have been surprised if this was some sort of prank. Get Iris Crawford alone, embarrass her just as she had to Brayden.

The only thing that prevented her from further exploring this possibility was the reminder of Jessica's public stance taken. Firmly Team Iris.

"The burgers are to die for," Jessica insisted as she shut the car door. "I know it looks...sketchy, but trust me."

Trust.

A weighted word.

She'd trusted Helena. Brayden, not so much, but still hadn't considered him capable of what he'd done, and so shamelessly at that.

They were the people closest to her, and yet, Jessica freaking Taylor wanted her to trust her?

It was laughable.

Yet, she went along.

Unlike the one with the diner's name, a sign reading NO SUPERS in bold red lettering was perfectly intact on the door, to which Iris winced at.

"Huh," Jessica commented as she pulled the door open, sparing it no more than an extra second of attention. "That's new."

The opinion Jessica held about the restaurant seemed to be popular, as it was jam packed with patrons, requiring a ten minute wait before they were able to be seated at a high top table near the back.

Iris was digging her nails into her palm when the waitress handed them the menus, promising to return for their drink orders momentarily.

"Get whatever you want," Jessica told her as she unfolded the paper. "It's on me."

"I'm not hungry."

"Oh, don't give me that. I don't mind paying, really."

"I'm serious. I'm not hungry." Iris said, refusing to look at Jessica — or the untouched menu in front of her. Instead, she let her gaze drift towards one of the many TVs, watching some weatherman discuss the night rain expected.

"Whatever. We're sharing onion rings, at least."

"I don't like onion rings," Iris lied.

"Everyone likes onion rings."

"Not me."

She knew she was being difficult. Could see on Jessica's face that it was irritating her, too, the way her lips curved downward and her eyes shifted in what she knew was a cut off roll.

Didn't care enough to take it back.

"Well, I'm getting onion rings," Jessica eventually said. "And you're free to have as many as you want."

Iris bit down on her lip, preventing herself from further pissy behavior.

Internally, she tried not to dissolve into panic.

She knew what that old therapist of hers would say, if she was here. The one she'd made up a bunch of lies about to convince her dad to let her stop seeing — that the woman had tried to impose Mormonism onto her and had spiders in her office.

Diane, with her cat-eye glasses and frumpy pantsuit. Diane with her UCLA degree hung proud over her desk. Diane with her never ending solutions to problems Iris never wanted to solve in the first place.

Something something, relationship with food, something something, nourishing your body, something something. The kind of therapy-speak Iris had learned a few days into her hospital stay at the end of Freshman year were hollow. Meaningless. Built on foundations of sand — pretty at first glance, but toppled over the moment pressure was added.

She rubbed her arms.

The waitress returned with Iris's ice water and Jessica's Cherry Coke, the former of which downed half the drink in one go as the latter ordered the onion rings.

As Iris sucked through the straw, the chill from the ice seeping into her bones, Jessica leaned towards her, propped up by her elbows. "How was detention?"

"Uh..." She gave herself a moment to consider her answer, what lie to concoct that didn't entirely contrast the truth. "Fine. Moron left early. Some family emergency. So I got away with not doing my lines."

"Moron?" Jessica repeated, brows furrowing. "You mean Wesley?"

Iris made a mental note to tell the kid that Jessica Taylor knew his name. Imagined how elated he'd be by the news — and grateful to her for delivering it. More debt owed to her — the fake dating in exchange for keeping his identity a secret, and now, helping him out with his actual crush.

"Yeah," Iris said. "Wesley Moron."

"Moran," she corrected quickly. "I think it's Irish."

Iris shrugged, not sure where the urgency came from. "I prefer Moron."

"It's his name — I don't think it's a matter of preference."

Another shrug, this time unaccompanied with any verbal commentary.

"That was nice of him, though," Jessica went on. "Making sure he would be in detention with you, I mean."

"I guess."

"I mean, especially with Brayden being a Super." She shuddered. "Fucking freak. Your dad's totally right about all that — they should be banned entirely — like, thrown in jail. I'm shocked they let Brayden back in the school since it got out."

Iris nodded, not sure whats he was meant to say.

"Do you even know him? Wesley Moran, I mean." She went on, the topic for some reason of great interest to her. Iris wasn't sure what to make of it. "Like, I don't think I've ever seen you two talk. Did he just do that for the sake of it? Or are you friends?"

"We're definitely not friends," Iris insisted, nearly choking on her water.

"Maybe he has a crush," Jessica hummed.

She didn't dignify her companion with a response, just the roll of her eyes, and an internal laugh at the irony. Draining her cup of water, she was about to inquire about Jessica — something she'd realized she hadn't done since their afternoon hangout begun, but she beat her to the chase.

"Helena wasn't at school, was she?"

Iris shook her head.

"Weird." Her lips pressed together, as she took another small sip of her soda. "Do you know where she was, then?"

"No?" It came out more like a question on its own than an answer. "Probably hungover from that party."

Jessica nodded. "I didn't even see her there, either. The party, I mean."

"Your onion rings!"

They turned as the waitress set the platter between them, a chipper smile flashed their way before she moved to the table next to theirs, occupied by a group of middle aged men seemingly watching the game.

Jessica cleared her throat, before taking a bite of one of the onion rings. "Seriously though. Was Helena even there?"

"Where? The party?"

She nodded, swallowing.

"It was at her house," Iris said slowly. "She was probably busy. You know, being an attention whore."

Iris wasn't sure the cruelty would land, but it did. A laugh tore from Jessica, though not long lasting. "Whatever. All that aside, Helena's a jerk — and you're better off without her."

She wasn't, but Iris wasn't about to argue that.

Instead, she watched as Jessica twisted one of her tight curls in a ringlet around her finger. Lips parted in tandem with their upward curve, preparing to speak—

BANG!

Iris nearly fell out of the stool as Jessica let out a flurry of curses, both of their heads pivoting towards the source of the noise — the door, which had been blown off its hinges and thrown halfway across the diner, splinters of wood cast across the tile floor.

In the door frame, two familiar figures.

The Buzzer on the left, whom Iris recognized from the news — and Moron's own tale. The Supervillain so evil, she lacked a Hero counterpart. The last one she'd had — some woman called Bloody Mary, had vanished when Iris was in middle school, never to be replaced.

Donned in yellow, an eye mask not too different from Brayden's Bravin' Raven one was the only thing concealing her true identity, though even from the distance, Iris could see her dark blue eyes.

Her attention didn't remain on the first Villain for long, drawn over to the one on the Buzzer's side.

A head taller than the Buzzer, it took a moment for Iris to recognize where she'd seen the figure — also in yellow — before.

It was the lighting person from her dad's rally.

A man, about six foot tall, with a mask drawn over their entire face rather than just their eyes like the Buzzer. The yellow he wore was a shade lighter than the Buzzer's, more reminiscent of the lightning powers he utilized rather than the Buzzer's bee abilities.

For a moment, they just stood there. Like they too didn't know what they were doing at some random restaurant.

"Dramatic," Jessica commented, having gathered herself enough. Still, there was a tremor to her voice. "How hard would it have been to open the door like a normal person?"

"Did you not see the sign?!" One of the waitresses stormed up to them, bravely jamming a finger into Lightning Guy's chest. "No Supers allowed — Villains especially."

"Not a Villain," the Buzzer snapped.

Iris's brow furrowed, as Jessica accidentally knocked the onion rings that'd just been delivered onto the floor. Muttering a curse, neither of them paid it any mind as they watched the scene before them.

Not a Villain — had the Buzzer retired? And what were they doing with the man from Evan's rally? Was he, too, not a Villain, nor a Hero but something else entirely?

Were there even words for that?

"Hero or Villain, it doesn't matter. We don't service Supers here," the waitress insisted.

How they enforced that, Iris almost considered blurting out. Supers almost always concealed their identities — Moron, for example. No one would bat an eye if he stepped into Lucy's without his Phantom attire, wouldn't be able to tell this from that.

"Discrimination," the Lighting Guy added in a low baritone, something in the back of Iris's mind igniting at the sound of his voice. It was familiar enough to take note of, but not grasp onto tight enough to put a name to it.

All she knew was that she'd certainly heard this voice before.

And that voice knew her.

Just as the waitress began to speak again, a frantic attempt to usher the two alleged not-Villains out, she watched as his eyes found hers, then widened through the small holes in his mask.

Who the fuck—

"We're not here for food," the Buzzer said, reaching into the pocket of her spandex leggings. Half expecting a weapon and preparing to leap beneath the table for cover, Iris breathed a sigh of relief when all that came out was a colorful piece of paper. "We're going from place to place, to spread the word."

"The word," the waitress repeated.

From across the table, Jessica coughed into her elbow, an echoing noise through the now entirely quiet diner.

A moment passed. Then, Lightning Guy let out a soft laugh as the Buzzer's eyes narrowed. "Yes. The word. Now, unless you want me to summon the nearest hive and have you stung to death, I suggest you allow us entry."

Any cockiness the waitress had held vanished, skin going a ghostly pale. "I..."

"Thank you." Cutting her off, Lightning Guy pushed by the waitress with a final glance in Iris's direction, swiping the flier out of the Buzzer's hand as he did.

Then, he spoke, voice carried throughout the diner in an eerily calm way. "I am not your enemy, in spite of what the media may say — nor is my companion here."

"You're Villains," a middle aged women countered.

"Former," the Buzzer corrected. "I was never given a choice."

Iris and Jessica exchanged a glance, Moron appearing in the thoughts of the former. She didn't understand much about the life of a Super — but she could see just how strained he was becoming by nature of who he was, and what was expected from him.

Never given a choice.

Was Moron ever afforded one? Was Brayden?

Why did she care?

"There are forces beyond your knowledge that operate the vast majority of Supers," Lightning Guy went on. "Simply by being born with extraordinary powers, we are collected the moment they start to develop, if not before. Two rival organizations seek to use us against each other. Turn us into Heroes and Villains, not for the benefit of the world, but to annihilate the other."

"Why?"

Iris spun around. It was Jessica who had spoken up, throwing out a simple question — simple, yet one Iris was certain was impossible to fully answer.

The Buzzer laughed. Laughed.

"I don't know."

Iris bit down on her tongue.

"All I know is that, until very recently, I was in a trance working as a Villain. Doing evil was all I knew, and yet, I never found myself rewarded for the tasks. I did so much bad to serve the people above me. But I know the truth. These people, the Villains, they want you to fear Supers, just like the Heroes want you to revere them."

"You're a Hero, then?" A man at the bar asked, casually sipping on a glass of what appeared to be pure whiskey.

Another laugh from the female Super, this one more harsh. "Are you not understanding a word I'm saying?"

"No, not really," he admitted.

"I'm not a Hero," the Buzzer explained. "Or a Villain. And neither is the Bolter." She nudged towards Lightning Guy — the Bolter, apparently. "These labels, they're created by powerful men and women who want to increase their own standing — not do any actual impact on the rest of the world."

"As opposed to what?" The man sipped on his drink, too drunk to care for precisely who it was he was speaking to. "Evil acts?"

"Evil should be done for the sake of evil, not for uplifting those too lazy and incompetent to commit such crimes themselves." The Buzzer's gaze slid towards the Bolter. "Evil and good are arbitrary. They don't mean anything, not really. Which is why we're forming our own organization — void of such concepts." She lifted the flier, turning to the still pale waitress. "I hoped to put this on your wall — and I will. Again, I can have you mauled by bees the moment you anger me."

"What..." The waitress stammered. "What is it? The paper, I mean."

"A call to action," the Buzzer said simply, bringing the flier to the wall. Procuring a piece of tape from her pocket, she sealed it to the brick with ease. "All Supers — unclassed or in organizations, it doesn't matter. Come to us. Come to B&B."

The Bolter spoke next, clapping his hands together and drawing Iris's attention towards him. "With Evan Crawford rapidly gaining support for his radical, heinous beliefs, other cities will soon follow suit. The whole country, in time. It's not safe to be a Super, not in New York City, not in the United States as a whole. And it's certainly not safe to reside in current Hero and Villain organizations, who would sooner throw you to the wolves than give any leeway to their own power."

"But they're Heroes," someone at the table next to Iris and Jessica's blurted. "They're good."

Amusement shone in the Bolter's eyes. "That's what you think?"

The person shrugged. "I mean, it's kind of in the name..."

The Bolter nor the Buzzer — B&B, apparently, didn't dignify this with a response, simply exchanging an amused glance.

"You'll learn soon enough," was what the Bolter eventually said, adjusting the hem of his mask from where it met his neck. Turning to the waitress, he added, "And we'll pay you back for the door. Just invoice us."

The waitress blinked. "Uh...I'll speak to my manager about that."

Iris was certain she was the first one to see it — the figure emerging in the distance. What at first glance appeared to be a bird, rapidly swelling to a larger and larger size as it grew closer, until it was flying through the open doorway.

Not a bird, Iris realized with a coil of dread in her gut, as Jessica let out a yelp.

Brayden fucking Berry.

The Bravin' Raven, having been going so fast, he crashed up against the wall after a failed effort to slow himself down. Taking a moment to groan in pain as he collapsed to the ground, he was back on his feet within a few seconds, shoulders squared and eyes narrowed in on B&B.

"Not today, Buzzer."

He didn't seem to notice Iris and Jessica's presence, much to her relief. She didn't think she'd be able to handle another confrontation, hold herself together enough to keep her pride intact through her insults.

Once had been more than enough. Now, she was searching the room for an exit she had no hope of finding — a way out that wouldn't notify Brayden that she was there.

Jessica appeared to be in the same predicament, mouthing something to Iris that she couldn't decipher through her own spinning head.

"Oh, please. This is two verses one," the Buzzer commented with a laugh. "If we were here for a fight, you'd be dead already, Raven. It's your lucky day, though. We've come in peace."

"Peace." Brayden scoffed. "You don't know the definition of the word, Buzzer."

"My companion speaks the truth," the Bolter said, lifting his hands as if to surrender. "This isn't an ambush — nor would you succeed in stopping it if it was."

Brayden took the bait without second thought. "Says who?"

Iris couldn't help the small breath that left her — a half laugh she was able to cut off before it fully formed.

Luckily, it went unnoticed by Brayden. The Bolter, not so much, eyes once again shifting in her direction.

"There's a reason you're paired with the Phantom, rather than an actual competent Villain," the Buzzer chided.

This sparked a wave of confusion across the onlookers, all silent in their anticipation as to which Super would make the next move.

The drunk man broke the quiet. "The Phantom is evil, though. He—"

"A series of coincidences." The Buzzer cut him off. "It's smoke and mirrors, all of it." Her lips curved as she reverted back to looking at Brayden, who carried the same baffled expression.

Of course, Iris thought, slowly shrinking in her seat. They had no way of knowing the Phantom wasn't all he was cracked up to be. Until yesterday, she'd been in the same boat.

Now, he was her fake boyfriend — to the current knowledge of no one. Weak enough to be blackmailed into such a position.

She didn't even need to convince him.

Still, a surge of defensiveness built in her at the insult — even though she knew calling the Phantom weak was in turn calling Brayden more so.

Insults towards Wesley were only okay when coming from Iris, not from some yellow freaks recruiting for their new club in a run down diner.

The only thing that held her back was knowing speaking up would draw attention to her, when being an invisible observer had been working in her favor so far.

That, and rushing to the defense of a Villain was probably bound to lead to questions asked, when they hadn't gone public with the fake relationship just yet.

She didn't need to do anything, either. Brayden, the egotistical dumbass he was, took offense all on his own. With a steady breath taken, he was leaping into action, lunging in the direction of the Buzzer.

She didn't bat an eye as she dodged with ease, Brayden flying into the wall behind her with a thud.

"You don't want to do this, kid," the Bolter warned, though there was a hint of animosity in his tone that suggested he wanted nothing more than to have an excuse to beat the ever loving shit out of his opponent.

His reluctant kindness didn't get heeded, as Brayden gathered himself, adjusting the eye mask that had gone wonky (why he still wore one in the first place, considering his identity had been leaked, Iris couldn't fathom), and jumped in the direction of the Bolter.

He didn't flinch. Instead, his hand lifted, and with nothing more than the softest of movements forward, a bolt of lightning hit Brayden square in the chest, rendering him unconscious within a moment.

Where, Iris wondered to herself as the room dissolved into shrieks, was that aim when he was attacking her dad at the rally?

Then she realized she might be in actual danger, and swiftly jumped off of the stool and onto her feet.

Jessica was doing the same, pulling out her phone alongside her movements, dialing 9-1-1 as fast as her trembling hands would go.

She wasn't the only one — when Iris spared a moment to glance around the diner, half of the occupants had their phones lifted, either recording the incident or reporting it.

In her pocket, her own phone buzzed, which Iris ignored.

"There's Supers here!" Jessica cried into the receiver. "They just took down the Bravin' Raven and — oh goodness, it's terrible! Come quick!"

"Do we run?" Iris asked her, not able to gather up the fear she knew she should be experiencing. Nothing about her surroundings felt quite frightening — aside from the way the Bolter continuously glanced her way, even as he stepped up to Brayden's unconscious body.

Maybe he'd been the one to leave that note on her bed. It claimed to have been from a Villain, after all...

Except Wesley had said he'd never seen the Bolter before.

And for some reason, Iris trusted him.

"No," the Bolter answered for her. "No running." He remained fixated on her as he addressed the onlookers. "Anyone else have a challenge?"

The room was silent.

The Buzzer and the Bolter exchanged a glance, before looking down at Brayden.

Then, the Buzzer asked in her raspy voice, "Shall we do away with him now?"

Iris, who'd been inching backwards on instinct, froze.

Jessica hiccuped. "You can't—"

Ironic. They'd both been professing their hatred for Brayden just minutes ago, bonding over how cruel he'd been to Iris.

He was a cheater and a liar and had thrown crueler words at her than she'd ever faced before.

And still, on the ground, unconscious...

It wasn't fair, was it?

Iris was never one to go into a fight the underdog. Refused to engage in social warfare from anything aside from the higher ground. Every mean retort, every bite into the flesh of someone's confidence, it was done from an advantage.

Ensuring her victory was certain.

From her position atop the social pyramid, side by side with Helena Haider, it never occurred to her that every step she took on the backs of others hurt.

It never occurred to her to consider what her words meant. What her actions did. Calling people losers and morons and insulting the way they dressed and acted, leaving them out. She won those battles because she hand crafted them to end in her favor. Picked and chose those she could uplift herself with, and ignored those closer in stature to hers.

It was why she never went against Helena.

Why she still couldn't bring herself to check her texts from her.

On the outside looking in, she could see how vile it truly was, picking on someone smaller. Someone who wouldn't, couldn't, fight back.

Iris shoved that thought, and the guilt it came with, to the side.

It could be addressed when she wasn't currently face to face with something that needed to be stopped — something only she could stop.

There was a bitter irony to it — to the realization of her ill behavior occurring while a witness to karma in action. If anyone deserved what was about to happen, it was Brayden Berry.

And yet, Iris could fix this.

She knew she could — should.

It was only a matter if she would.

She glanced in Jessica's direction alongside inhaling a sharp breath, watching as the girl burst into tears.

The Bolter lifted his hand.

Fuck's sake, she really had to do this.

"Stop!"

The Bolter obeyed — just as Iris knew he would.

Looked up, focus centered on her, alongside the attention of the Buzzer — noticing her for the first time.

Oh, Brayden owed her big time.

"You can't kill him," she stammered, confidence sucked into the vacuum of fear. The emotion was making its overdue arrival, pushing out everything else within her as the two Supers fixated their attention onto her.

Jessica hiccuped.

In her pocket, her phone buzzed again.

Bringing her hand up to her nose, she wiped away the blood she felt begin to trickle down her face, praying it went unnoticed. Waited for someone to say something — kill Brayden like they'd planned, even.

Anything but this maddening silence.

"I know you."

It was the Buzzer who spoke, a sort of thrill in her voice that had Iris wanting to throw up. "You're Evan Crawford's daughter."

The note — could it have been from the Buzzer? With the familiarity she professed, it was possible, if not a bit of a stretch. Why would the Buzzer want Iris to meet with the Villains if she was no longer one?

"Don't bother," the Bolter said, nudging the Buzzer with his elbow then glancing back down at the unconscious Bravin' Raven. "She's clearly with the Heroes."

What he was being told not to bother with, Iris hadn't a clue. Wasn't sure she wanted to know — or wanted the rest of the world to know if it got pressed on.

Still, she held her ground. "Go away, yeah? Seriously. Fuck off. We're trying to have a nice day without you freaks coming here and recruiting us for your scouts club."

The Buzzer's lip curled — and Iris braced herself for her attempts to fail.

But to her surprise, she was turning to the Bolter, who nodded. "We've finished our business here." The Bolter glanced at Brayden, still lifelessly sprawled out across the floor, then towards Iris. "Tell your father hello from us, Iris."

"No need."

Iris swore — loudly. Though no one paid her any mind as their attention instead drew towards the figure in the blown out doorway. Evan Crawford had made it to Lucy's in record time, without so much as a single bodyguard at his side to protect from the Supers he knew he would be confronting.

Fuck's sake.

Iris wiped her nose again, preparing herself to leap into action as she had with Brayden. The two people she despised the most, becoming the defender of.

Would they do the same for her, she wondered.

Probably not.

Still, she couldn't shake the need away.

Jessica, when she looked towards the girl, had huddled beneath the table, knees pressed into the floor.

It wouldn't just be protecting Brayden and Evan, Iris justified. It would be sparing Jessica from what was sure to be a traumatic thing to witness, if it crossed the line into further violence.

And maybe she owed it to the world, like the realization she'd had upon watching the two Supers gang up on Brayden. She'd been a bitch, even if Moron refused to call her that. And sure, maybe some people deserved her ire — Evan and Brayden most certainly, Helena, if she ever bothered to respond to her texts.

But maybe now was a good enough time to try something new. Throw kindness at the wall and see if it stuck.

If only as an experiment.

"I told you two to leave," Iris hissed, fixated on the two conscious Supers.

It was a long shot, a risk she wasn't sure she could reasonably take. Not with Evan as witness, especially.

But to do otherwise felt wrong.

And for once, she wanted to be right.

When everyone stared at her, no doubt wondering what the fuck she was doing, she ran a hand up the bone of her arm, reaching her elbow. Self soothing, until the twisting in her stomach ceased.

While the Bolter remained staring at Iris, as if the mayor candidate wasn't even there, the Buzzer glanced towards the baffled Evan.

"Iris," he warned. "Stand down. You shouldn't be here."

"I know what I'm doing," she snapped.

Did she?

She hadn't been ordering him to, but her father's lips locked tight anyways.

On the ground, Brayden began to stir.

"Everyone back the fuck off!" Iris screeched, demanding the attention that she knew would flicker to him.

Oh, Brayden Berry, you were about to be in so much debt.

He better grovel his ass off.

Iris held her breath, praying it would work. Moved only to wipe the blood she felt further dripping down from her nose, holding her hand there in hopes it would go unnoticed.

For a moment, everyone simply stared at her. The Bolter, the Buzzer, Evan, Jessica.

All eyes fixed on Iris.

"Come on," the Bolter broke through the silence, grabbing onto the Buzzer's wrist, tugging ever so slightly in the direction of the exit. "We're wasting time here." He turned to the waitress. "Don't take down the flier, or we'll be back — and this time, we won't show restraint."

The moment the two Supers were vacating the restaurant, Evan was rushing over to Iris and Jessica, stepping over Brayden in the process as he slowly regained consciousness.

Then, as Jessica rose from where she'd hidden beneath the table and Iris wiped her blood-stained hand on a napkin, Evan cleared his throat. "Who wants to explain to me what the fuck just happened?"

AUTHOR'S NOTE ⋆ didn't even try to edit this im SAWRRY im so tired and have a busy day! i'm seeing a concert tonight then leave for a trip tomorrow so i gotta prep haha. anyways i hope you enjoyed the chaos! let me know what you think and tysm as always for reading <3