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The sun laid low over the city horizon, its many high rises like shards of dark steel and mirror glass piercing the gilded cloudscape. A faint mist of rain silently stained the city in darker, richer tones. Combined with the stirring breeze, a rainstorm seemed to be looming, but for now all was still. Golden hour. The last rays of the sun refracted into hazy rainbows, imparting its final shreds of warmth.
Coruscate watched from his vantage point. An apartment complex rooftop not far from his own home, the rain beading on the clear plastic of his coat. For once his strange choice of costume was used for its intended purpose. A raincoat wasn’t the usual choice for a vigilante, but it had its uses, mainly in the dizzying way it and water reflected the gossamer threads of his power. For now the weave of reality only veiled him gently. Faint shimmers like cobwebs in the wind adorning him in place of a mantle and mask. He had no need of an actual disguise, the ever shifting weave was more than enough to warp any perception of his form.
Neither his duty nor guise were on his mind though. Rather, he found himself enthralled by the sights. To his eyes the world he saw was not built but woven. Everything from the sky to the dampening tarmac, a warbling tapestry. Coruscate breathed in, the air cold in his chest despite the warmth of the sun, and let himself settle. This evening there would be work to do, and not the kind that involved his usual academia.
If all went brilliantly, he’d walk away unharmed. If it went well enough then it would be a few scrapes and bruises. Hopefully he wouldn’t get shot, but one could never predict with these things. He had to be ready for it all. Best to enjoy the calm and quiet now, who knew what trouble awaited him on his patrol.
A faint buzz crept up on the edges of his hearing, an uncommon stability to the weave approaching. With a sigh he lowered his head from where he’d tilted it into the sun, and turned to face the first obstacle of his evening.
Sanctum. Sigil’s most established hero, the face (or at least as much a face as he could be said to have) of justice, and Coruscate’s trusty rival.
He hovered gently above the ground, adding a few inches to his already prodigious height. It was unclear how much of the form was suit and how much person. But surely not all of it could be human, unless he was of truely prodigious size. The masked face, a blank angular visage wrought of the same gold as the rest of him, dipped in a faint greeting.
“Greetings, Interloper—”
“Greetings, Angry Beehive.” Coruscate grinned at the slight shift of the man’s shoulders, whether it was frustration or defeat he didn’t know, but it pleased him. “Also, you’re in my side of the city. You’re the interloper here. You can only call me that when we’re on your shiny rich boy side.”
Sanctum seemed to huff. Coruscate liked to imagine he was rolling his eyes behind the inscrutable face. He gently lowered, until his metal feet scraped against the concrete.
The vigilante turned back to watch the setting sun as footsteps approached him. It was impossible for them not to sound heavy, but they weren’t the slow and deliberate manner that he knew Sanctum favoured when aiming to intimidate. He stopped beside him. An imposing golden edifice in the corner of his vision. Usually Coruscate would think him out of place amongst the weathered brick, cracking plaster, and graffiti adorned walls of the area, but for once he seemed to fit in. With the world gilt by the sun, the hero appeared as its pinnacle rather than an incongruity.
Not that Coruscate was going to let him know that.
“You’re really messing with the scenery, maybe go back to your big office buildings and pretty edifices. It’s like someone hucked a pretentious statue into my perfectly nice neighbourhood, clashes horribly” he mused, no real bite behind his words.
Despite himself he glanced over, and considerably up, at Sanctum.
He showed no visible response. As still as a statue and fare less emotive. But Coruscate had to admit, even if he was a pretentious one, a work of art was certainly an apt category to place him in. Especially like this, glowing in the last rays of the sun, not a mark to be seen on his smooth curving metal, a broad and sharp silhouette against a fading blue sky.
He quickly turned away. Sanctum may be perfect, but that was the point. The perfect poster child of the city. Blind, unflinching, indestructible justice. Coruscate sighed. They’d already made their point, making their hero’s guise so strikingly beautiful was just unnecessary.
Said hero cocked his head at the sound. It was impossible for Coruscate to know for sure if he was being watched, but the heavy feeling that washed over him was a pretty good indicator.
“Does my presence really cause you such displeasure? I am not looking to fight, nor argue, I was merely curious as to what you were doing here,” he said, voice a mix between the low rumble of an earthquake and crackling speaker static.
Coruscate shrugged, not meeting his unseen eyes. “No more than it usually does. But if you have to pry, which you always seem to, I’m trying to enjoy my afternoon before I inevitably get drenched tonight.”
“Ah, I see. Understandable. I suffer no such issues, it hadn’t occurred.”
“Mm, I suppose there are benefits to being stuck inside that thing,” Cosuscate rapt the metal of his arm, his iridescence dancing across it in a spattering of sparks. “I could never. Too cut off from everything. I couldn’t feel the threads, wind, the pain. Must be like wearing gloves all the time. Protective yet, always a bit unwieldy… But hey, what would I know, I’m just some upstart interloper after all.”
Sanctum turned back to the skyline. “You would still feel the pain, believe me. I find it comforting though, it as much armour as it is a disguise. But each to their own.”
“Yeah… suppose so.” Coruscate fell silent, trying to ignore the prickling on the back of his neck. He was sure he was being watched, but Sanctum wasn’t facing him, so he couldn’t be sure.
The mist of rain gradually grew more hazy, until its silent fall turned to a quiet pitter patter. Droplets rolled off the golden figure beside him, entirely unbothered, glittering almost as much as Coruscate. Drips began to fall from the edge of his raised hood. One hit his nose, and he flinched back with a muffled curse.
He may enjoy the rain, but not when he had to do this kind of work. Being soaked and bruised was up there with his least favourite feelings, though hopefully anyone looking to cause trouble would be equally discouraged. With a sigh, he adjusted his coat, the thick plastic crinkling as he moved. The disturbed water droplets sent a dazzling array of prismatic light into the air, refracting his threads. The feeling of being watched vanished, and Coruscate grinned. No doubt Sanctum had given himself a headache trying to stare him down.
But enough time thinking about him, he was here to enjoy the peace before it was broken.
The sun slowly slipped away behind buildings and clouds, plunging them into a silvery grey. At some point, Coruscate figured the rain had died down, as he could no longer feel the faint tremor of it pattering across his shoulders. Yet the cloak of water only seemed to thicken, growing dark and heavy. He frowned. Water rushed through the gutters around them and left the roads shining, so the weather hadn’t passed over his spot.
Rather…
He looked up, sighing at the realisation, equal parts exasperated and fond. Above him was an almost imperceptible shape in the air. Invisible to most, but a faint net of gold to Coruscate. A telekinetic shield, sending the water cascading around him rather than on. The vigilante glanced at Sanctum, still unmoving despite the rivulets cascading down his form.
“Ever the hero,” Coruscate whispered, nearly too quiet to hear.
For a time he thought Sanctum hadn’t heard him, and was honestly relieved. He’d sounded far too soft and not nearly sharp enough.
But eventually he replied. “As much as I can be… Is that better?” He made a small gesture at his telekinetic umbrella.
Coruscate looked away, tensing slightly at the bait, at the ask for an admission. A compliment. He relented, his barbs blunted by the gesture. “Yeah it’s— It’s nice. Thanks.”
Sanctum didn’t respond, seemingly waiting for more.
His barbs were blunted, but not broken. “What, do you want me to call you a good boy or something? Lavish you with praise? Perhaps I could give the dashing hero of our fair city a kiss like I’m a damsel rescued from the horrors of being a bit damp—”
“This is hardly necessary,” Sanctum interrupted, and he delighted in just how strained he sounded. “And no, I do not.”
“Ah… pity,” Coruscate grinned, an idea forming in his head. “I suppose you’ll just have to suffer through this then—”
He stepped closer to the hero, the indomitable and unshakable, the golden fisted symbol of power, and placed both hands on his shoulders. It was a bit of a reach, but before he could be stopped he raised himself to the tips of his toes, but a few mere inches from Sanctum's faceless visage. He wasn’t sure where to go for, so he settled on the vague cheek region.
The metal was cold on his lips, the taste of rain water seeping onto his tongue, as he planted a quick and teasing kiss. Sanctum probably couldn’t feel it, but he tense regardless. The shield above him faltered. A few errant raindrops landed on his cheeks before it settled again.
He pulled back, trying not to laugh, and patted the hero on the shoulder.
“You’re so uptight, relax a bit, it makes you so easy to mess with,” Coruscate said, like he wasn’t much the same when his vigilante disguise didn’t provide him with the confidence of anonymity.
Sanctum paused, frozen and staring.
“I—”
Before he could speak the air rattled, a shockwave hitting them both square in the chest. Coruscate stumbled, but was steadied by a golden gauntlet.
They both turned to look out at the city, seeing smoke and the clamour of commotion rising through the rain a few blocks away.
“Damn it,” Coruscate sighed, “So much for a quiet night.”
Sanctum rose from the rooftop, held aloft by that same warbling force used to shield his companion from the rain. “Indeed. It seems we have some true interlopers to deal with.”
“Yeah, yeah,” the shifting threads around Coruscate concentrated, humming with energy, static and heat filling the air. “Try and keep up.”
Sanctum got halfway through a retort before he realised he was alone on the rooftop. His companion had unravelled beside him, no doubt reconstituting himself nearer to the scene of the crime. It was his turn to sigh, still trying to ignore the heat across his cheeks, and the slight hint of smile playing across his lips.
“Ah, well… I’ll get you back for that one,” he sighed, before using the edge of the building to push himself into open air, his metal encased body held effortlessly aloft.
Time enough for that later. They both had work to do.